Chapter 250: Allegiance
"Let go of me... you two crude, red-haired trolls..."
Despite Tamara using the most vicious, venomous vocabulary she could muster to intimidate her captors, the heavy numbness of alcohol rendered her struggles entirely pathetic. Her weak, uncoordinated resistance was completely useless against the sheer physical advantage of the two beaters.
Fred and George, their shoulders shaking as they desperately tried to stifle their laughter, half-pushed and half-dragged the swaying Slytherin straight through the frilly doors of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.
The very second the door chimed open, a cloyingly sweet wave of mixed artificial floral perfumes, carried on the thick, suffocating steam of brewing black tea, rushed out to assault their senses.
Since tomorrow was Monday, and today happened to be February 13th, the over-energized young couples of Hogwarts had decided to make up for the tragedy of a weekday Valentine's by packing this tiny, claustrophobic tea shop to the absolute brim.
Pink confetti drifted lazily from the ceiling, catching in people's hair. Eye-searing, ruffled lace trimmings choked every inch of the wallpaper, while aggressively chubby, animated Cupids fluttered through the humid air, brandishing little golden bows and shooting harmless, sparkling arrows at unsuspecting patrons.
This hellish, pastel-colored visual impact slammed into the already dizzy Dark Lord, triggering a wave of deep physiological nausea that struck her very soul.
However, finding even a sliver of peace in this hormone-drenched nightmare was simply a pipe dream.
At the incredibly cramped table right next to them, a Hufflepuff boy was desperately trying to impress his giggling girlfriend. He clumsily brandished his wand, his wrist movements stiff and unpracticed, as he attempted to cast a romantic Levitation Charm.
Accompanied by the boy's outrageously sweet, sickeningly gentle voice, one of the powdered paper roses on the table jerked upward. It traced a wildly distorted arc through the humid air and, as luck would have it, slapped directly against Tamara's pale cheek.
The Great Dark Lord had endured enough.
"Unforgivable..."
Tamara shoved herself upright, her chair scraping harshly against the floorboards. She didn't even bother to draw her wand. Relying purely on the lethal instincts ingrained in her very bones, she locked her cold, murderous gaze onto the delicate porcelain teacup sitting in front of the offending Hufflepuff.
She channeled her magic, attempting to cast a silent, flesh-shredding jinx directly into the porcelain, fully intending to give this group of ignorant, love-struck fools a bloody, unforgettable lesson in respect.
However, the exact millisecond the dark magic surged toward her fingertips, the system's cheerful, mechanical voice rang piercingly inside her skull.
[Beep—Host detected in an intoxicated state; sanity value currently below the safe threshold. To protect the Host from being immediately deported to Azkaban, the Dark Magic output circuit has been forcibly intercepted and automatically replaced with a harmless, festive alternative!]
The moment the altered magic released, the tea inside the Hufflepuff boy's cup suddenly boiled violently, hissing and spitting hot droplets onto the lace tablecloth.
The boy flinched back, expecting an explosion. But the terrifying, shrapnel-filled detonation Tamara had envisioned never materialized.
Instead, with a soft, pathetic pop, a fat, translucent snake made entirely of pink strawberry gummy candy squeezed its way out of the teacup in an utterly ridiculous manner.
It wobbled its chubby, gelatinous body, reared back, and opened its sugary jaws at the dumbfounded Hufflepuff—only to spit out a long, shimmering string of colorful soap bubbles that popped harmlessly against his nose.
"...Hahahaha!"
Fred and George instantly doubled over, bursting into exaggerated, breathless roars of laughter that drew the irritated stares of several nearby couples.
"A pink strawberry gummy snake! Oh, brilliant!" Fred gasped, wiping a tear from his eye. "Riddle, your ultimate sense of humor should get you sorted into Gryffindor immediately!"
Tamara's jaw locked. A vein pulsed dangerously at her temple. She was thoroughly, violently infuriated by such a humiliating display. Just as she was about to physically strangle these two reckless redheads, the tea shop's door, adorned with its obnoxious silver wind chimes, was suddenly pushed open.
"Excuse me, is there a student using unauthorized magic in here?"
Professor McGonagall's stern, piercing voice sliced through the humid air, instantly making the entire bustling tea shop go as quiet as a graveyard.
"Oh no! It's McGonagall!"
The Gryffindor troublemaking duo was already intimately acquainted with such sudden, high-stakes situations. The moment the first syllable of their Head of House's voice registered, Fred and George moved purely on reflex. They grabbed the still-dazed, swaying Tamara by both arms, nimbly darted up the narrow wooden stairs to the second floor, and dove straight into a shadowed, private booth tucked away in the farthest corner.
The entire evasion maneuver was as smooth as flowing water, executed without making a single audible sound.
The light inside the cramped booth was dim, illuminated only by a single, flickering pink candle.
Listening to Professor McGonagall's stern questioning downstairs gradually fade away as she inspected the first floor, the twins finally slumped against the velvet cushions, breathing a long, synchronized sigh of relief.
"That was close. We almost got caught and slapped with a month of detention," George whispered, patting his chest dramatically.
Meanwhile, Tamara's head was still buzzing fiercely from the Firewhisky, but her dark eyes were fixed intently on the two redheads.
In the Dark Lord's deeply twisted, pragmatic value system, this specific ability—to react instantly, move silently, and retreat decisively when faced with a sudden search by Aurors, or in this case, Professors—was an absolutely very useful quality for any minion.
"Very good..."
Tamara nodded slowly, a look of genuine appreciation crossing her flushed features as she casually praised them. "Your reflexes are extremely swift."
She leaned forward slightly, her tone dropping into a dark, conspiratorial whisper. "This keen sense of danger is much stronger than those useless idiots currently under my command, who only know how to grovel and flatter."
Hearing such a bizarre, villainous compliment, the twins exchanged a highly amused look.
"Wow, that's quite a high." Fred leaned in with genuine interest, resting his chin on his hands as he studied the usually cold, untouchable Slytherin in the dim, flickering candlelight.
"Seriously, Riddle, we've always been curious," George chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why do you always act so stiff and unapproachable?"
"Yeah, are you really secretly plotting some massive, evil conspiracy to blow up Hogwarts?" Fred teased.
"Blow up the school?"
Tamara let out a disdainful, breathy sneer. She lifted her chin haughtily, her intoxicated mind stripping away any intention of hiding her true, grandiose motives.
"Your vision is simply narrow!" Tamara snapped. She pushed their knees aside, staggered unsteadily toward the small, plush pink sofa in the middle of the booth, and boldly stepped right onto the cushions.
Looking down at the seated twins from her elevated, wobbly position, a look of fanatical, terrifying arrogance bloomed on her flushed face.
"What I intend to do is far grander than some petty explosion!" she declared, her voice dripping with dark ambition. "I will trample the entire Wizarding World under my heel! I will make that self-righteous, hypocritical Dumbledore cry bitter tears while clutching his pile of lousy, sugar-coated candies, kneeling in the dirt to beg for my forgiveness!"
Tamara extended a pale, trembling finger, pointing it arrogantly right between Fred and George.
"And you... though you are just two penniless, blood-traitor Weasleys, I admire your agility just now."
She puffed out her chest, trying to look imposing despite the pink confetti still stuck in her dark hair. "Now, I shall mercifully grant you a rare opportunity—become my subordinates! Swear your loyalty to me! Once I have conquered the Wizarding World and purged the weak, perhaps I can bestow the entirety of Diagon Alley upon you as your personal territory!"
Any normal, rational student hearing such blatant, treasonous remarks would probably be scared out of their wits and immediately run screaming for a Professor.
But they were the Weasley twins.
The two brothers shared a long, silent look, tacitly seeing the exact same sparks of chaotic excitement dancing in each other's eyes.
They completely, utterly treated this as a hilarious, impromptu role-playing game.
Fred flamboyantly flipped the hem of his faded Gryffindor robes as if it were a nobleman's cape. He placed his right hand firmly over his heart, stepped back, and bent down in a standard, wildly exaggerated courtly bow.
George immediately followed suit, leaning down just as elegantly, and declared loudly in a dramatic, Shakespearean-style aria that echoed slightly in the small booth:
"As you wish! Great Her Majesty the Queen!"
"The unmatched humor of the Weasley family shall always be at your service!" Fred chimed in, keeping his head bowed reverently. "Our prank items shall be your sharpest swords! Please command us as you wish, Great Commander!"
This flamboyant, deeply theatrical, yet seemingly 'sincere' ceremony of allegiance gave Tamara's massive ego—which had been severely bruised by the system's gummy snake humiliation—an unmatched, intoxicating rush of satisfaction.
She narrowed her eyes with dark pleasure, standing tall on the squishy pink sofa with her arms outstretched, taking a deep breath as she prepared to deliver a grand, sweeping Death Eater induction speech to her newest recruits.
Creeeak—
The wooden door of the private booth was abruptly shoved open.
"Tamara! I've been looking for you for ages!" Draco Malfoy stood framed in the doorway, panting heavily, his usually immaculate platinum-blond hair a bit messy from the wind outside.
"Professor Flitwick said you'd been gone for a while, I thought something had—"
Draco's frantic voice came to a violent, screeching halt.
The House of Malfoy heir's pale gray pupils contracted into tiny pinpricks of absolute shock.
He stared intently at the bizarre scene unfolding before him—a scene that was entirely enough to shatter his entire, carefully constructed worldview.
In this sickeningly pink, lace-filled booth, Tamara was standing elevated on the sofa like a descending, dark queen receiving her subjects.
And right at her feet, those two notoriously troublesome, fiercely independent Weasley twins were bowing to her devoutly, their hands over their hearts, as if performing some ancient, sacred allegiance ritual to the Dark Arts.
What in Merlin's name was going on?
He had only taken his eyes off her for a short while, and Tamara had already extended her manipulative reach deep into the heart of Gryffindor?
And she had even managed to completely subjugate these two most difficult, untamable troublemakers in the entire school?
Just as Draco's aristocratic brain completely stalled out, a cold sweat breaking over his neck as he began to seriously suspect his own position as her right-hand man was about to be compromised by a pair of blood-traitors...
Tamara heard the noise at the door. She tilted her head slightly, her hazy, unfocused eyes taking a long, agonizing moment to finally lock onto Draco's utterly petrified face.
"Oh, Draco," she slurred slightly, a haughty smirk playing on her lips. "You've come at the perfect time."
Then, she pointed a lazy finger down at the still-bowing Fred and George, delivering a shocking, casual announcement to the paralyzed Slytherin at the door.
"Come in and meet them. These are my newly recruited subordinates. Although they don't seem very bright, their reactions to danger are extremely swift..."
She paused, her brow furrowing in genuine, drunken confusion as she stared down at the two identical redheads, before adding one final, baffling comment.
"I just don't know why they seem to look exactly the same. Do you have any idea, Draco? Is it some sort of cloning spell?"
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