Chapter 164: It Won't Kill Me
Tamara turned her head away in disgust, refusing to look any longer at the idiot who was sending her blood pressure soaring.
But the moment she looked away, the pressure seemed to fall with it.
The backlash from forcing herself to overdraw her physical strength came rushing in like a tide.
Tamara's body swayed violently, and the scene before her began to spin.
"Tamara!"
Harry noticed something was wrong and rushed over, wanting to steady her, but Draco had already caught Tamara one step ahead of him.
"Don't touch me..."
Tamara instinctively knocked Harry's hand away, but the movement was too abrupt, tugging at her already dishevelled collar.
The collar of her black robe loosened slightly, revealing a section of neck that should have been pale and smooth.
By the faint light in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry caught an unintended glimpse of an unusual mark.
His breath hitched.
Around Tamara's slender neck, a shocking ring of bruises was clearly imprinted.
It was not an ordinary bruise.
It was a circle of deep purple and red fingerprints, the edges tinged with sickly blood red streaks because of the violent backlash from soul resonance and Dark Arts.
Although the skin was not broken, the purple red welts looked especially grotesque and glaring against her bloodless, pale skin.
It was like an invisible serpent coiled tightly around Tamara's neck, silently testifying to how brutal the life and death struggle had just been.
"You..."
Harry's words stuck in his throat, his face filled with shock and disbelief.
She had been using her own life to battle the Dark Arts monster inside Ginny.
She had endured pain and backlash beyond what any ordinary person could imagine to pull that monster out of Ginny's soul.
And to save Ginny, Tamara had not only avoided using magic that would hurt her, she had even forcibly borne this fatal injury herself.
Thinking back to how Tamara had dragged such an almost dead body upright, forcing herself to stand, using the harshest words to stop Neville from provoking the Basilisk, all to protect everyone's safety...
Harry reached out as if possessed.
"Tamara... your neck..."
Tamara lowered her head, following his gaze.
A stinging, burning sensation came from her neck.
It was the mark left by Dark Arts backlash.
Ordinary healing spells or Dittany could not heal it. She could only wait for it to fade away bit by bit.
This was nothing, really.
But when she realized that the backlash mark on her neck had been exposed before Harry, an intense surge of humiliation welled up in her heart.
For the Dark Lord, scars were disgrace, a mockery of her insufficient power.
Especially when she was being looked at by the foolish saviour with such a disgusting expression.
The feeling of exposing her vulnerability to an enemy made Tamara exceptionally agitated.
Tamara ruthlessly struck Harry's reaching hand away.
She quickly pulled up the collar of her robe, hiding the mark in darkness.
"Wipe that disgusting expression off your face, Potter."
Tamara raised her head, her pitch black eyes cold and devoid of warmth.
"It is just a bit of Dark Arts backlash. It won't kill me."
Immediately after, Tamara keenly sensed something and whipped her head around to look at the large golden red bird circling above Neville's head.
Fawkes the phoenix was flapping his brilliant wings, his intelligent eyes watching her quietly, as if he could pierce through her skin and see her decaying soul.
Tamara frowned in disgust.
Dumbledore's spy.
As long as this beast was here, it meant that the white bearded old man's gaze had already fallen into the Chamber of Secrets.
Her current wretched state, and everything that had happened in the Chamber, had likely already been transmitted back to Dumbledore through the phoenix's eyes.
There was no value in staying here any longer.
Staying any longer would only suffocate her in the cheap sympathy of these Gryffindors.
"Malfoy."
Tamara spoke coldly. Though her voice was soft, it carried an unquestionable command.
Draco shuddered and immediately trotted to her side.
"There is nothing left to stay here for."
Tamara did not even glance at Harry. She turned directly toward the dark corridor. At the corner of the path, there was a staircase reserved for the heir left by Slytherin.
Of course, she knew that leaving without the main group at a time like this would inevitably invite Dumbledore's investigation and suspicion later.
But so what?
Rather than acting like a burden waiting to be saved, being carried out by that damned phoenix, then collapsing on the floor of the Headmaster's office in this weak, wretched state to undergo that old fox's endless interrogation, she would rather take a risk.
At worst, she could make up some excuse afterwards about panicking, fumbling along the wall, and accidentally triggering a mechanism to fool them.
For the Dark Lord, even when retreating, one must never hand the initiative to others.
"Let's go."
Draco followed closely behind her, flashing a smug smile at Harry, and their figures quickly disappeared around the corner of the secret passage.
Harry stood frozen, the hand that had been struck away still lingering in the air. His fingertips still retained a trace of Tamara's coldness.
After a long while, he slowly withdrew his hand and pulled the corner of his mouth into a self mocking smile.
"Yeah. It won't kill me."
"As long as it doesn't kill you... nothing else matters."
He murmured, his tone filled with deep powerlessness.
Just as Harry was immersed in his own emotions, a shout from behind suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
"Harry! Stop daydreaming!"
Harry took a deep breath, suppressed the unnecessary emotions in his eyes, and turned around to see Ron struggling to drag the unconscious Ginny.
He was soaked through, his face covered in mud and dust. As he panted, he shouted at Harry.
"Come over and lend a hand! It's too hard for Neville to drag Professor Lockhart by himself! Go help him!"
Ron glanced at the dark corridor where Tamara and Malfoy had disappeared, pursed his lips in annoyance, and grumbled loudly.
"Typical Slytherin behaviour. Once the crisis is over, they run faster than a Golden Snitch! They can't even be bothered to help get the wounded out. Their tempers absolutely stink!"
Harry's steps faltered slightly as he walked over.
He knew Ron was not truly resentful of Tamara.
This was just the habitual grumbling of a Gryffindor facing the arrogant attitude of a Slytherin.
After all, if Tamara had not stepped forward again and again at critical moments to save him and the people around him...
Perhaps Harry would have thought the same as Ron, that she was merely a beautiful, cold hearted, and unapproachable Slytherin.
Harry opened his mouth, but he could not say anything in rebuttal or explanation.
Because he knew Tamara did not care about other people's misunderstandings at all.
She was even deliberately using that terrible attitude to push everyone far away.
"Coming."
He bent down, picked up the Sword of Gryffindor that had fallen into the water, and prepared to go help Ron.
However, at that very moment.
"Tamara! What's wrong with you?!"
A terrified cry suddenly came from the dark corridor where Tamara and Draco had just disappeared.
It was Draco Malfoy's voice, filled with undisguised panic and helplessness.
"Potter! Weasley! Come over here! Hurry!"
Harry's heart clenched violently.
He did not even bother to steady the sword before scrambling toward the entrance of the corridor.
When he rushed into the shadows, the scene before him made his breath stop completely.
The Slytherin who, a second ago, had stood with her back straight, berating them with sharp words and seeming invincible, was now lying lifelessly on the damp stone floor.
Draco was kneeling on the ground, his hand clutching his wand and shaking violently, incoherently casting an unskilled Rennervate at Tamara.
"Rennervate! Damn it... why isn't it working?!"
Hearing Harry's footsteps, Draco whipped his head around.
Although his face was filled with terror he could not conceal, the moment he saw them, he subconsciously put on airs, trying to make himself look unapproachable.
"What are you standing there like idiots for? Come help! She just suddenly collapsed while walking! It must be you Gryffindor idiots who drained all her strength!"
Harry rushed over, his trembling hand reaching out to check Tamara's breathing.
It was extremely weak.
Her body temperature was frighteningly low, and the mark of Dark Arts backlash on her neck looked even more grotesque and terrifying against her pale skin.
Saying it would not kill her, yet collapsing flat on the ground.
Liar...
Harry gritted his teeth and cursed silently in his heart.
He whipped his head around and shouted at the phoenix circling in the air of the Chamber of Secrets.
"We need to get out! Take her to the hospital wing immediately!"