Chapter 48: Finally, Something Useful
As Christmas approached, Hogwarts Castle appeared trapped within the frozen confines of a massive snow globe. Outside the arched windows, heavy snow danced erratically in the biting wind, the white drifts already piling halfway up the stone sills. Inside the castle, particularly down in the Slytherin dungeons anchored at the very bottom of the Black Lake, a bone-deep chill permeated the air. Even the thick, emerald-and-silver tapestries clinging to the damp walls and the perpetually roaring fire in the hearth could not entirely banish the damp cold.
Tamara Riddle sat enthroned in her exclusive high-backed leather chair, a sleek eagle-feather quill pinched between her fingers. She was currently correcting—or rather, violently rewriting—Gregory Goyle's History of Magic essay.
"The Goblin rebellions happened because they wanted more holidays?" Tamara read aloud, her voice dangerously soft. She slowly looked up from the parchment. "Goyle. Is your skull entirely hollowed out and stuffed with slug slime?"
She stared at the crooked, blotchy handwriting and the utterly suffocating lack of logic scrawled across the parchment. A vein throbbed steadily at her temple. Goyle shrank back into the shadows like a reprimanded gorilla, his heavy features twisted into a mask of pure grievance.
"But... that's what Professor Binns said in class," Goyle mumbled, shifting his massive weight from one foot to the other. "Or... maybe I dreamed it while I was asleep?"
"Shut up."
Tamara cut him off with the frigid snap of a guillotine. Her quill flew across the parchment, viciously crossing out his idiotic arguments. Beside the ruined ink, she began drafting a historically accurate—if somewhat radically bloodthirsty—analysis of goblin-wizard economic warfare.
'I am the Dark Lord, not a glorified nanny,' she sneered inwardly.
But if this lumbering oaf handed in this pathetic excuse for an essay and received a Troll grade, Tamara knew it would reflect poorly on her. She had spent months cultivating her influence over these useful idiots. A Slytherin could be wicked, they could be cruel, but they absolutely could not be stupid.
"Take it. Rewrite it." Ten minutes later, Tamara tossed the parchment back. It was bleeding with red ink corrections. "If you miscopy even a single syllable, I will personally drag you to the Black Lake and shove your empty head under the Giant Squid's tentacles."
"Th-thank you, Tamara!" Goyle snatched the parchment out of the air, treating the heavily vandalized essay like a priceless artifact. His beady eyes actually glistened with unshed tears of gratitude.
In his hopelessly warped mind, the fact that Tamara was threatening him with a watery grave simply meant she cared enough to help him pass.
Just as the hulking boy lumbered away, clutching his homework to his chest, a sickeningly cheerful mechanical chime rang out in the quiet confines of Tamara's mind.
[Ding! Detected that the host did not give up on a struggling student, but instead provided patient, one-on-one academic tutoring!]
[What a truly magnificent spirit of education! No one left behind, no one forgotten! You are a beacon of light in the dungeons!]
[Triggered daily settlement reward: Wisdom +1.]
Tamara ruthlessly ignored the system's patronizing drivel, her mental focus snapping entirely to her translucent attribute panel. With this final, agonizingly earned point of Wisdom added to the tally, the numbers finally underwent a qualitative shift.
[Current Attribute Panel Updated:]
[Love: 14]
[Life: 14]
[Courage: 12]
[Wisdom: 30]
"Finally..."
Tamara murmured aloud, staring at the glowing golden number. She let out a long, slow breath, releasing months of pent-up frustration.
'Over these past agonizing months, how many brain-dead questions have I endured? How many garbage-filled essays have I salvaged? I even forced myself to smile and guide that insufferable mudblood Granger...'Her inner voice dripped with venom.'All of it... all of it was for this exact moment.'
[Ding! Congratulations to the host!]
[Detected that the 'Wisdom' attribute has successfully broken through the 30-point milestone, reaching the first stage threshold!]
[Matching reward for your outstanding intellect... Match successful.]
[Unlocked High-Tier Elemental Spell: Incendio Max.]
[Skill Description: Ordinary fire spells can only light firewood, but a true master of the flame can grant fire both form and will. Although it has not yet reached the forbidden, all-consuming level of Fiendfyre, at this stage, it is more than enough for you to keep warm!]
[Note: Playing with fire leads to bed-wetting; please pay attention to safety, host~]
Tamara's jaw locked in brief irritation at the mocking note, but the annoyance was instantly washed away. A vast, scorching torrent of magical knowledge flooded directly into her consciousness.
It was not merely a string of Latin syllables or a specific flick of the wrist. It was a deep, fundamental deconstruction of the element of Fire itself. She understood the precise manipulation of temperature, the complex shaping of form, the exact trajectory of combustion.
Tamara's eyes snapped open. Deep within her obsidian pupils, a cluster of dark, blood-red flames seemed to ignite and dance.
She felt it. That long-lost, intoxicating rush of destructive power.
Compared to the pathetic parlor tricks of the Levitation Charm, the mundane utility of the Scouring Charm, or the harmless transfigurations taught by that old fool McGonagall... this was what her soul truly craved.
Offense. Destruction. Pure, unadulterated combustion.
"Whew..."
Tamara slowly exhaled, a thin wisp of white mist escaping her lips in the frigid air, and rose gracefully from her chair. The temperature in the common room remained uncomfortably low. Although the fire in the grand stone fireplace crackled steadily, the ordinary orange-red flames looked weak, almost listless against the encroaching winter draft.
"It is far too cold in here," Tamara stated softly, her voice carrying effortlessly across the quiet room. She walked deliberately toward the hearth.
Draco Malfoy was currently seated on the plush emerald rug near the fire, engaged in a heated game of Gobstones with Crabbe. Hearing her approach, Draco immediately scrambled to his feet, kicking his Gobstones aside to make room.
"Tamara? Do you want to warm yourself by the fire? Take this spot, it is the best one."
"No, Draco."
Tamara stood perfectly still before the stone arch of the fireplace. She watched the weak, dancing flames, a cruel, elegant curve hooking the corner of her mouth. Slowly, deliberately, she drew her holly wand from her robes.
The surrounding Slytherin students instinctively halted their conversations and games. Dozens of eyes turned to watch the exquisite, dark-haired girl.
"Incendio."
Tamara chanted the incantation, her tone barely above a whisper.
BOOM—!!!
The previously docile fire in the hearth suddenly erupted with a deafening roar, like a starved beast violently awakening from slumber. The firelight flared with blinding brilliance, casting sharp, monstrous shadows against the dungeon walls.
This was no ordinary magical spark. The mundane orange flames surged outward, their color shifting rapidly from a warm, domestic glow to a heart-stopping, violent gold-red. At the very core of the inferno, a dangerous, ethereal blue heat pulsed steadily.
Then, a scene unfolded that every first-year student present would burn into their memories for the rest of their lives.
The massive volume of fire did not scatter or spill onto the rug. Instead, guided by the precise, almost lazy movements of Tamara's wand, the inferno began to twist. It stretched frantically upward, condensing and solidifying into a distinct, terrifying shape.
Hiss—hiss—
Accompanied by the sharp, crackling sound of superheated air being incinerated, a colossal python composed entirely of living flame slowly slithered its heavy head out from the stone hearth. It was as thick as a wooden barrel. Its scales were rolling, overlapping tongues of fire, and its eyes were two blinding clusters of white-hot light.
"Merlin's beard!" Pansy shrieked. She scrambled backward so frantically that the Gobstones in her lap scattered across the stone floor with a clatter.
Goyle and Crabbe fared no better. The two massive boys crashed into each other, hugging their knees and shivering in absolute terror as the heat washed over them. The older Slytherin students lost all color in their faces, staring in paralyzed horror at the serpentine demon that seemed to have crawled straight out of the deepest pits of hell.
"Do not be afraid."
Tamara's voice cut through the heavy, crackling atmosphere, exceptionally clear and chillingly calm. She stood mere inches from the blazing beast, not flinching in the slightest. Before her, the terrifying fire snake acted like a perfectly trained, docile pet.
Tamara gently raised her empty hand, the tip of her holly wand twitching just a fraction of an inch.
The giant fire python obediently bowed its massive head. With a sudden, fluid motion, it coiled its body and shot out of the fireplace entirely. It hovered in the open air of the common room, its brilliant, scorching body illuminating the dark, gloomy basement until it was as bright as the midday sun. Rolling waves of intense heat washed over the room, instantly incinerating the winter chill.
"This is merely... for warmth."
Tamara reached her hand forward. Although the beast was hovering several meters away, her gesture looked exactly as if she were affectionately scratching the fiery serpent under its chin.
The fire snake let out a low, thrumming hiss of pleasure. Then, without warning, it unhinged its massive, blazing jaws and made a lightning-fast lunging feint directly toward the shivering first-year students huddled in the corner.
"Ah!!!"
Several of the more timid freshmen threw their arms over their heads, squeezing their eyes shut and screaming in raw panic.
But the fire never touched them.
A mere inch away from the tips of their trembling noses, the monstrous snake instantly collapsed. The solid mass of flame shattered, dissolving into countless, harmless warm sparks that drifted through the air like glowing fireflies before fading into nothingness.
Only a perfectly comfortable, balmy temperature remained in the dungeon.
A deathly silence followed. The only sound was the heavy, ragged breathing of terrified children.
A few seconds later, Draco pushed himself up from the floor, his legs visibly trembling. He stared at Tamara. The initial, instinctual fear in his pale grey eyes had already melted away, replaced by a dark, near-fanatical worship.
If Tamara had previously conquered this house through cunning, academic brilliance, and calculated tactics, then this... this was pure, unadulterated power. It was the exact kind of overwhelming force that every true Slytherin craved in their bones. The absolute ability to dictate life and death.
"Is... is that Incendio?" Pansy asked, her voice shaking violently as she clutched her chest.
"Just a little trick."
Tamara slipped her wand back into her robes, her tone entirely indifferent, as if summoning a massive elemental beast hadn't drained the slightest drop of her magic. She turned around slowly, sweeping her gaze over the room. Looking at those wide, reverent eyes, a deeply familiar, long-lost sense of supreme satisfaction bloomed in her chest.
"It is much warmer now, is it not?"
She walked back to her high-backed chair and sat down gracefully. She picked up her porcelain teacup, which had grown entirely cold during her tutoring session. With a casual, almost lazy tap of her index finger against the rim, the dark tea instantly began to steam.
"Continue with your homework, everyone," Tamara commanded softly. "I do not want to see tomorrow's assignments turned into a pile of garbage simply because the room was 'too cold'."
"Yes!"
The response was instantaneous and unified, echoing off the stone walls louder and more desperate than ever before.
Tamara lowered her eyes to her teacup, taking a slow, measured sip to mask the cruel, smug smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
This was exactly the effect she desired. Fear and awe. They were the absolute, unshakable foundations of true rule.
As for that pathetic, so-called virtue system... Tamara snorted coldly in the dark recesses of her mind.
'It seems that as long as it is wielded properly, even this sickening shackle called kindness can be forged into a very sharp sword in my hand.'
[Yes indeed! Well said, host! ^v^]
[Akarin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/AkarinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/AkarinTL
🔗 All My Links: linktr[.]ee/AkarinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]