Chapter 45: Come, Let's Have a Snowball Fight
The next morning brought the first true snow to Hogwarts.
The Great Lake had frozen solid overnight, transforming into a vast sheet of cloudy glass. Out in the frosted clearing beyond the castle walls, Hagrid was already hauling massive fir trees through the drifts, preparing the grounds for the approaching winter holidays.
To the average student, it was a picture-perfect winter wonderland plucked straight from a children's storybook. To Tamara Riddle, it meant nothing but piercing, agonizing cold and the irritating, endless shrieks of overly energetic children.
Having died more than once in her previous life, she possessed a deep, instinctual loathing for the cold. It reminded her too much of the grave.
Wrapped tightly in the heavy dragon-hide cloak Draco had given her, Tamara clutched a stack of heavy tomes she had just procured from the library. She hurried her pace across the snow-dusted courtyard, desperate to retreat to the comforting, fire-warmed gloom of the Slytherin dungeons.
"Hey! Watch out!"
A burst of raucous giggling echoed from a nearby stone corridor.
Tamara's brow twitched. She ignored the noise, keeping her gaze fixed forward. She only wanted to escape this wind-swept courtyard before her fingers went completely numb.
However, just as she rounded the corner of the cloister—
Whoosh—Splat!
A massive, magically compacted snowball hurtled through the air. Originally, this icy projectile had been aimed squarely at the towering purple turban of Professor Quirrell, who was scurrying across the grounds. But Quirrell had suddenly stumbled over his own boots, causing the enchanted snowball to trace a bizarre, curving arc over his head.
It slammed with pinpoint accuracy directly into the back of Tamara's skull.
The sheer kinetic force of the impact nearly threw her face-first into the paving stones. Her arms jerked, and the heavy library books scattered across the slushy ground with a series of wet thuds.
Clumps of freezing snow slid down the collar of her robes, melting instantly against her warm skin. That bone-chilling, wet sensation sliding down her spine ignited a dormant, apocalyptic murderous aura deep within her soul.
Her carefully brushed hair was utterly ruined. Several wet, icy strands plastered themselves against her pale cheeks, leaving her looking thoroughly wretched.
Silence fell over the courtyard. The winter air seemed to freeze solid in that single instant.
A few yards away, the culprits—Fred and George Weasley—stood frozen like statues. Their wands were still raised, and the mischievous grins on their freckled faces had completely solidified into masks of pure horror.
"Oh, Merlin's pants. We are in so much trouble..." Fred swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"George, I think we've massively messed up." George's face drained of all color, matching the snow beneath his boots. "We accidentally hit Miss Riddle... Mum is actually going to murder us."
Ever since they had parted ways at King's Cross Station, Molly Weasley had made it a point to ask in her weekly letters how the poor, tragic orphan girl was faring. If she found out they were bullying her...
Tamara turned around. The movement was agonizingly slow, like the turning of a rusty gear.
She did not reach up to wipe the melting slush from her neck. She did not bend down to retrieve her fallen books.
She simply locked her dark, bottomless gaze onto the two red-headed twins.
Inside her mind, Tamara was already weaving the incantations for at least three unforgivable curses. Even without drawing her wand, she calculated the precise magical output required to transfigure these two insufferable blood-traitors into permanent ice sculptures. She would leave them standing in this courtyard until the spring thaw, a monument to their own stupidity and a warning to every other idiot in this castle.
"You two..."
Tamara's pale fingers twitched, ready to unleash a wave of dark magic.
[Ding! Warning! Strong retaliatory murderous intent detected.]
That sickeningly perky, loathsome voice chimed right on schedule inside her skull.
[Triggering Sudden Quest: The Magnanimity of Forgiveness.]
[Quest Description: Playful antics between youths are a beautiful symbol of vitality! As a broad-minded, kind-hearted top student, how can you possibly hold a grudge over such a tiny, harmless accident?]
[Quest Requirements: Prohibited from using any hexes, jinxes, or verbal abuse. Please forgive the Weasley twins with a warm smile and demonstrate your delightful sense of humor.]
[Failure Penalty: For the next 24 hours, whenever you experience anger, your voice will automatically shift into a high-pitched, coquettish, and spoiled tone.]
Tamara felt a vein throb violently at her temple. Her blood pressure spiked to dangerous levels.
'Is this broken piece of garbage actively trying to get me killed?'Tamara roared in the dark confines of her mind.'They shoved freezing mud and snow down my spine!'
[Please smile, host. Love and peace!]
Tamara dragged in a sharp, freezing breath. The overwhelming, burning impulse to commit double homicide clashed violently against the system's absolute mandate. The internal war raged for three agonizing seconds before settling into a deeply twisted compromise.
She closed her eyes. When her dark lashes fluttered open again, the suffocating, murderous pressure in her gaze had been ruthlessly buried.
In its place bloomed an incredibly gentle, radiant smile. Yet, no matter the angle, the curve of her lips radiated a sinister, blood-curdling chill.
"Ri... Riddle, we really didn't mean it!"
Looking at that sweet, angelic smile, Fred felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. Every survival instinct he possessed screamed at him to run. He honestly would have preferred it if she had just pulled her wand and started blasting curses.
"We were aiming for Quirrell! Honest!" George added, taking a slow step backward.
Tamara stepped toward them. Her boots crunched softly against the snow. The smile on her face grew even brighter, practically blinding in its forced sweetness.
"It is quite alright."
Her voice flowed as soft and soothing as a warm spring breeze. But to the highly attuned ears of the Weasley twins, it carried the distinct, echoing whisper of the Grim Reaper.
"It was merely a joke, wasn't it?"
Tamara closed the distance. She reached out with one pale hand and gently, delicately brushed a stray snowflake from the shoulder of Fred's winter cloak.
"How could I possibly be angry? A snowball fight... what a wonderfully fun activity."
"Really?" Fred let out a massive, shaky breath, his shoulders dropping. "You aren't mad at us?"
"Of course not."
Tamara tilted her head to the side. A dangerous, predatory glint flashed through her dark eyes, completely hidden behind her sweet facade.
"Come, let's have a snowball fight, shall we?"
The twins blinked, completely stunned.
Before their brains could even process the underlying threat in her polite invitation, the courtyard erupted.
Tamara did not reach for her wand. She simply raised both hands in a graceful, elegant gesture, turning her palms upward toward the gray sky. The thick, heavy accumulation of snow blanketing the courtyard seemed to hear the silent command of a dark master.
It surged upward, swirling with sudden, violent joy.
Two massive, roaring tornadoes of pure white snow erupted from the ground. They spun with terrifying velocity, snapping forward like vipers to snare Fred and George tightly by their ankles.
"Hey! What is this?!"
"Whoa—!"
Amidst their panicked shouts, the twin snow-cyclones climbed their bodies like massive constricting pythons. In the blink of an eye, the magic hoisted both boys high into the freezing air, leaving them dangling upside down, their robes flapping wildly over their heads.
"Do not be in such a hurry. I am simply playing a little joke of my own."
Tamara looked up at the dangling, flailing twins. Her smile was absolutely beaming now. She raised a single index finger and gave it a light, playful hook.
"If we are going to play, let us have some real fun."
Following the subtle flick of her finger, the magical tornadoes vanished. Gravity took immediate control. The twins plummeted straight down from the sky like two oversized carrots being violently planted into a garden bed.
Because the snowdrifts in this section of the courtyard were exceptionally deep and soft, there was no sickening crunch of bone.
Instead, the upper halves of Fred and George's bodies—from the tops of their red heads straight down to their waists—plunged perfectly into the dense snowbank. Only their four legs remained visible, kicking frantically and helplessly at the winter air.
From a distance, they looked exactly like two bizarre, thrashing bushes that had decided to grow upside down.
Watching their muffled struggles, the dark, suffocating frustration that had been building in Tamara's chest finally evaporated. A genuine sense of peace washed over her.
[Warning! Suspected violent behavior detected!]
The system's interface flashed a harsh, angry red across her vision.
'Violence?'Tamara sneered coldly in her mind, adjusting her ruined collar.'I did not even pack bricks into the snow. That is practically an act of saintly mercy.''Besides,' she continued, her mental tone dripping with condescension,'if a snowball fight lacks an actual fight, how can it be called a snowball fight?''And look at them... are these two not providing excellent humor right now?'
[System is determining...]
The red light flickered, hesitating.
[Determination Result: According to certain historical records, burying opponents in snowbanks does indeed fall within the acceptable parameters of a snowball fight.]
[Barely passed.]
Tamara gave a quiet huff of amusement. She elegantly clapped her hands together, dusting the lingering frost from her pale fingers.
With a casual flick of her wrist, her wand finally slid into her hand. A silent summoning charm sent the scattered library books flying neatly back into her waiting arms.
"Do have fun, Messrs. Weasley."
Tamara pinched the edges of her dragon-hide cloak and performed a flawless, mocking curtsy toward the two pairs of frantically kicking legs.
Without waiting for a muffled reply, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving behind nothing but a graceful, unbothered silhouette against the white landscape.
It was not until Tamara was completely out of sight that two passing Hufflepuff upperclassmen noticed the bizarre spectacle in the snow. They dropped their bags and hurried over, grabbing the flailing ankles and hauling the nearly suffocated twins out of the drift.
"Cough, cough... Ptooey! Merlin, mouthful of snow!"
Fred's face was flushed a brilliant, freezing red as he spat out a massive glob of slush, gasping greedily for the crisp winter air.
Beside him, George furiously wiped the clinging ice shards from his eyelashes. He turned his head, staring down the empty corridor where Tamara had disappeared. There was absolutely no fear in his eyes. Instead, they sparkled with the intense, manic excitement of a man who had just discovered a kindred spirit.
"She is way too cool, Fred."
"Yeah, George." Fred grinned widely, even as his teeth chattered like castanets. "Planting people head-first into the frozen ground—it is pure, unadulterated genius!"
"Come on, let's go find Ron and try it out on him!"
[Ding! Quest Completed: The Magnanimity of Forgiveness.]
[Reward: Love +1, Weasley Twins' Favorability Unlocked.]
Walking through the damp, freezing stone of the underground dungeon corridor, Tamara heard the cheerful prompt ring out in her head.
Her footsteps faltered. The corner of her mouth twitched uncontrollably, once, twice.
'...Is this thing actually sick in the head?'
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