Although Halloween had not yet arrived, late autumn at Hogwarts had already taken on a bleak chill. A cold wind swept across the stone corridors, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. The skies were perpetually gray, and the castle grounds felt quieter, as though bracing for winter.
There were no classes on Friday afternoon. Normally, this would have been a welcome opportunity for Slytherin students to lounge beside the fireplace in their Common Room or immerse themselves in advanced magical theory in the Library. The warm green-lit chamber beneath the lake would be especially inviting in weather like this.
However, Tamara Riddle found her peaceful afternoon interrupted in the courtyard corridor.
"Hagrid wants to see you."
Harry Potter stood a few steps away, scratching his perpetually messy hair with visible awkwardness. Beside him, Ron Weasley watched Draco warily, his ears slightly red as if expecting trouble at any second.
Harry and Ron occasionally visited Hagrid's hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The enthusiastic half-giant would pour them oversized cups of steaming tea, insist they try his rock-hard cakes, and then chat for hours about magical creatures. His hospitality was sincere, even if his cooking left much to be desired.
"He said he was curious about you," Harry added earnestly. "And… since we're friends now, I thought maybe we could all go together and have some tea."
Since the midnight duel incident Draco had orchestrated, Harry and his friends had developed a rather bleak impression of Slytherin House. Yet Tamara—who had come looking for them that night out of apparent concern—stood as a contradiction to that prejudice. In their eyes, she was perhaps the only genuinely good Slytherin they had ever met.
Before Tamara could respond, Draco let out a soft scoff, wrinkling his nose as though he had caught the scent of something rotten.
"That big oaf?" he sneered. "The gamekeeper who lives in that wooden shack? Merlin's beard, Potter, your standards are truly beyond saving. I imagine the place is crawling with fleas and mud."
"Who are you calling a big oaf?!" Ron shot back immediately, his face flushing crimson.
Tamara observed the exchange without expression.
Go to Hagrid's hut?
The very idea was absurd.
She had no interest in visiting such a place. Worse still, that man—Hagrid—was the very person Tom Riddle had framed decades ago. The thought alone irritated her. Why would she voluntarily approach someone whose ruined life was tied to her former self?
"No," Tamara said coldly, turning on her heel. "I have more important matters to attend to."
She had barely taken three steps when—
[Ding! Warning! Host attempting to evade historical responsibility.]
The familiar mechanical voice exploded inside her mind, sharp and grating, accompanied by a faint crackle of electric static.
Tamara's jaw tightened.
[Special Bond Quest Triggered: Debt of History.]
[Quest Background: Fifty years ago, it was 'you' who opened the Chamber of Secrets, released the Basilisk, caused the death of a student, and ultimately framed Rubeus Hagrid, then a Hogwarts student.]
[Result: Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts. His wand was snapped. His future was destroyed. He was forced to remain as gamekeeper for the rest of his life.]
[Though you now inhabit the body of Tamara, the sins of the soul cannot be erased. This stain upon your record remains.]
[Quest Objective: Accept the invitation. Visit Hagrid's hut. Eliminate Hagrid's hostility toward the surname 'Riddle' and raise his favorability to 'Friendly.']
[Failure Penalty: Dream every night for one month of Hagrid's tearful face at close range.]
Tamara stopped abruptly.
Her eyelid twitched.
The mental image alone made her feel vaguely nauseous.
"…Damn it," she muttered under her breath.
"Tamara?" Draco looked at her in confusion. "Let's go. Don't waste time on these two idiots."
Tamara inhaled slowly, suppressing the irritation swirling within her. When she turned around again, her expression had shifted—cool, composed, and faintly polite.
"I've reconsidered," she said calmly, looking at Harry. "Since it is an invitation from an elder, refusing outright would indeed be discourteous."
Draco's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're actually going?"
"You may return to the dormitory," Tamara replied evenly. "Please bring the book I borrowed from the Library back with you."
"But—"
"That is an order."
Draco stiffened. Though his face clearly reflected confusion and reluctance, he obediently clutched the book to his chest. Before leaving, he shot Ron a glare so sharp it could have cut glass.
Ron glared right back.
The path leading to Hagrid's hut was far from pleasant. The earth had grown soft from recent rain, and mud clung stubbornly to the soles of their shoes. The air carried the damp, decaying scent of the Forbidden Forest, along with a faint musky odor belonging to creatures far larger than any student would prefer to imagine.
"We're here," Harry announced, stepping up to the massive wooden door and knocking firmly.
Heavy footsteps echoed from within. A deep bark followed—Fang, no doubt.
"Comin'! Comin'!" came Hagrid's booming voice.
The door swung open.
Rubeus Hagrid's enormous figure filled nearly the entire doorway. He wore his usual moleskin coat, and in one massive hand he held a copper kettle.
"Harry! Ron! Come on in!" he greeted warmly.
Then his eyes shifted.
They settled on the black-haired girl standing slightly behind the two boys.
For a fleeting moment, Hagrid's smile froze.
"And this is…?"
"This is Tamara," Harry supplied quickly. "Tamara Riddle. She's the Slytherin I told you about—the one who's always helping other students."
"Clang!"
The copper kettle slipped from Hagrid's hand and crashed onto the floor, spilling scalding water across the threshold.
He did not even glance at it.
Earlier, when Harry had spoken of a kind Slytherin girl well-liked by her peers, Hagrid had been curious. Slytherins had not historically been friendly toward him. Meeting an exception had seemed refreshing.
But he had forgotten to ask one crucial detail.
Her name.
Now, he stared at Tamara as though the air itself had grown heavy.
The warmth in his dark, beetle-like eyes vanished, replaced by something far more complex—fear, caution, and the deep ache of old wounds.
"Riddle?" Hagrid's voice had gone dry. He unconsciously took half a step backward. "You… you from that Riddle family?"
Memories surged forward unbidden.
A handsome boy with neatly combed hair and a prefect's badge gleaming on his chest. A top student. Polite. Brilliant. Trustworthy.
The boy who accused him of raising a monster.
The boy whose words led to his expulsion.
The name that shattered his future.
Harry and Ron exchanged startled glances.
"Hagrid? What's wrong?"
Tamara observed the half-giant's reaction with detached calm. She felt no guilt—only the faint annoyance of inconvenience.
Still, the quest required performance.
"It is merely a coincidence, Mr. Hagrid," she said smoothly. Her tone was clear, measured, almost gentle. "Riddle is not an uncommon surname in the Muggle world. I grew up in an orphanage and have no knowledge of my family background."
The lie came effortlessly.
Perhaps deception was simply second nature.
"A coincidence…" Hagrid murmured, breathing heavily.
He scrutinized her face as though searching for a shadow of the past. There were similarities—refined features, composed bearing, that cool detachment. Yet she was a girl, younger, softer somehow.
After a long moment, his shoulders sagged slightly.
"Yeah… maybe it is," he muttered, wiping his face with one enormous hand. "Sorry. Lost me composure there."
He bent down, retrieved the fallen kettle, and forced a strained smile.
"That name just… brings back some bad memories."
Tamara's gaze softened just a fraction—calculated, precise.
"I understand," she replied. "Some names carry burdens that do not belong to those who bear them."
Hagrid paused at that.
The tension in the air eased by a small degree.
"Come in, then," he said gruffly, stepping aside. "No use standin' out in the cold."
The interior of the hut was cramped but warm. A fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth. Copper pans hung from the ceiling, and Fang lumbered forward to sniff at the newcomers.
Tamara stepped inside.
The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the earthy smell of damp fur. It was humble. Simple. Entirely different from the grandeur of the castle.
Harry and Ron took their usual seats, and Hagrid busied himself pouring tea—this time with more care.
Tamara accepted her cup with steady hands.
She met Hagrid's gaze directly.
"I hope," she said after a brief silence, "that whatever happened in the past… does not continue to cause you pain."
The words were neutral. But sincere enough to pass.
Hagrid stared into his tea.
"Some things," he said quietly, "ain't easy to forget."
Tamara inclined her head.
"But sometimes," she replied evenly, "understanding can change how we carry those memories."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The fire crackled.
Outside, the wind stirred the trees of the Forbidden Forest.
And somewhere deep within her mind—
[Favorability +5]
Tamara allowed herself the faintest inward sigh of relief.
The quest had only just begun.