As Christmas approached, Hogwarts Castle seemed sealed inside a giant crystal sphere.
Outside the tall windows, heavy snow swirled endlessly through the sky. The drifts had already piled halfway up the glass panes, frosting the world in white silence. Inside the castle, however—especially in the Slytherin common room deep beneath the Black Lake—a damp chill still lingered.
Even thick emerald tapestries and the ever-burning fireplace could not fully chase it away.
Tamara Riddle sat in her exclusive high-backed chair, quill poised in hand, correcting—or more accurately, rewriting—Goyle's History of Magic essay.
"...The Goblin Rebellions happened because they wanted more holidays?" she read aloud flatly. "Goyle, is your brain filled with slug slime?"
She stared at the crooked handwriting and suffocating logic covering the parchment, feeling a pulse throb at her temple.
Goyle shrank into himself like a scolded gorilla, looking deeply wronged. "But… that's what Professor Binns said in class. Or… maybe I dreamed it while I was asleep?"
"Shut up."
Tamara cut him off without looking up. Her quill slashed mercilessly across the parchment, crossing out entire paragraphs of nonsense and replacing them with a sharp, if slightly radical, historical analysis.
She did not want to be anyone's nanny.
But if Goyle submitted this garbage and received a 'T' for Troll, she felt her own reputation would suffer by association.
A Slytherin could be ruthless.
A Slytherin could be cruel.
But a Slytherin could never be stupid.
"Take it," she said at last.
Ten minutes later, she flung the parchment—now almost completely covered in corrections—back at him. "Rewrite it. If you miscopy even one word, I'll personally introduce your head to the Giant Squid's tentacles."
"Th–thank you, Tamara!" Goyle clutched the parchment as if it were a priceless treasure, his eyes misting with gratitude.
In his mind, although she threatened to kill him daily, she was sincerely helping him.
As Goyle hurried away, the long-awaited mechanical voice finally echoed in Tamara's mind.
[Ding! Detected that the host did not abandon a struggling student, but instead provided patient one-on-one tutoring.]
[What a noble spirit of education! No one left behind, no one forgotten!]
[Daily settlement reward triggered: Wisdom +1.]
Tamara ignored the saccharine commentary and focused on the attribute panel floating in her mind.
With this final point of Wisdom added, the number shimmered—and changed.
[Current Attribute Panel Updated:]
[Love: 14]
[Life: 14]
[Courage: 12]
[Wisdom: 30]
"Finally…"
Her gaze lingered on the glowing '30'. She exhaled slowly, a rare note of satisfaction slipping through her composure.
Over the past months, how many idiotic questions had she endured? How many dreadful essays had she corrected? She had even been forced to tutor that mudblood Granger.
All of it had been for this moment.
[Ding! Congratulations, host!]
[The 'Wisdom' attribute has broken through the 30-point threshold, reaching the first-stage milestone!]
[Matching reward in progress… Match successful.]
[Unlocked High-Tier Elemental Spell: Incendio Max.]
[Skill Description: Ordinary fire spells merely ignite firewood. A true master of flame grants fire form and will. Though it has not reached the forbidden level of Fiendfyre, which devours all things, it is more than sufficient at your current stage.]
[Note: Playing with fire leads to bed-wetting. Please exercise caution, host~]
A vast, searing torrent of knowledge poured into Tamara's consciousness.
This was not merely an incantation or wand movement.
It was understanding.
Temperature control. Combustion trajectories. Structural shaping of flame. The very philosophy of fire as destruction and rebirth.
Tamara's eyes snapped open.
Deep within her obsidian pupils, faint crimson embers flickered.
She felt it.
That long-lost, intoxicating power.
Compared to the Levitation Charm, the Scouring Charm, or the harmless manipulations of Transfiguration class… this was what she truly desired.
Offense.
Destruction.
Dominion.
"Whew…"
She exhaled slowly and rose to her feet.
The common room was still cold. The fireplace crackled dutifully, but its orange flames seemed weak—almost timid.
"It's too cold," she murmured.
She walked toward the hearth.
Draco Malfoy sat on the rug nearby, playing Gobstones with Crabbe. When he saw her approach, he hurriedly shifted aside.
"Tamara? Do you want to warm yourself? This spot's the best."
"No, Draco."
She stood directly before the fireplace. The dancing flames reflected in her dark eyes, and a faint, elegant curve touched her lips.
She drew her holly wand.
Around the room, students gradually fell silent.
"Incendio."
Her voice was soft.
The effect was not.
BOOM—!!!
The peaceful fire erupted like a beast awakened from slumber.
Flames surged violently upward, their color shifting from mild orange to brilliant gold-red. At the very core, a dangerous streak of ethereal blue shimmered like the heart of a star.
This was not a simple flare.
The fire did not scatter. It did not explode outward.
Under Tamara's precise control, it twisted and coiled, compressing inward, condensing into shape.
"Hiss—"
A massive python composed entirely of flame slowly emerged from the fireplace.
It was as thick as a bucket. Its scales were writhing tongues of fire. Its eyes burned with blinding white brilliance.
"Merlin's beard!" Pansy shrieked, scrambling backward as her Gobstones scattered across the floor.
Crabbe and Goyle clutched each other in terror.
Even the older Slytherins stared pale-faced at the infernal creature now coiling through their common room.
"Don't be afraid."
Tamara's voice cut through the crackling blaze, calm and steady.
She stood before the monstrous fire serpent without flinching.
Before her, the creature seemed almost tame.
She raised her wand slightly.
The serpent lowered its massive head obediently.
It slithered fully out of the hearth, coiling through the air, illuminating the entire dungeon chamber in blazing daylight. Heat radiated outward in waves, instantly driving away the lingering chill.
"This is merely for warmth," she said lightly.
She extended her hand, as though stroking beneath the serpent's chin.
The fire snake hissed contentedly.
Then, without warning, it lunged toward a cluster of first-year students huddled in the corner.
"AHHH!"
Several of them screamed, squeezing their eyes shut.
But the serpent halted.
Just an inch from their noses, it burst apart into thousands of gentle sparks.
The sparks drifted harmlessly through the air like golden fireflies, fading into nothingness.
Only warmth remained.
Silence followed.
A thick, stunned silence.
After several seconds, Draco slowly stood.
The fear in his gray eyes had transformed into something else.
Reverence.
If Tamara had previously conquered them through intellect and strategy, now she ruled through something far simpler.
Power.
The power Slytherins admired above all else.
The power to destroy—or spare.
"Was… was that Incendio?" Pansy whispered.
"Just a minor trick," Tamara replied indifferently, slipping her wand away.
As if she had merely adjusted the thermostat.
She turned to face them, noting the awe etched across every expression.
A familiar satisfaction rose quietly within her.
"Yes," she asked coolly, returning to her chair, "it's much warmer now, isn't it?"
She lifted her teacup. It had gone lukewarm.
With a light tap of her finger, steam curled upward once more.
"Continue your homework," she said.
"I don't want tomorrow's assignments to be a pile of rubbish just because you were 'too cold.'"
"Yes!"
The response came instantly—and louder than ever before.
Tamara lowered her gaze, taking a slow sip of tea to conceal the faint smile playing at the corner of her lips.
This was the result she wanted.
Fear.
Awe.
Those were the foundations of authority.
As for the so-called virtue system…
She let out a quiet, disdainful snort.
"If used correctly," she thought, "even a shackle like 'kindness' can become a blade in my hand."
[Indeed, well said, host ^v^]
She ignored the system's cheerfulness entirely.
The fire had faded back into an ordinary blaze.
But the warmth remained.
And so did the memory of what they had witnessed.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Tamara felt that something truly useful had finally arrived.
Not a trivial charm.
Not a minor academic advantage.
But power worthy of her ambition.
And this, she knew, was only the beginning.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Jackssparrow