For most students, being confined to the hospital wing would feel like a punishment.
For Tamara, however, it was something else entirely—a rare stretch of peace.
Madam Pomfrey guarded her like a dragon protecting its hoard. Not only did she strictly restrict Tamara's movements, but she even hung a sign outside explicitly forbidding visitors. No exceptions.
Tamara had no complaints.
In fact, she preferred it this way.
She had no desire to see Potter's guilt-ridden face hovering awkwardly at her bedside, nor did she want to deal with the overly enthusiastic Gryffindors who would inevitably swarm in, eager to express their gratitude and friendship.
If there was any tangible benefit to saving Potter, it was that the system had unlocked all first-year spells for her.
Lumos. The Softening Charm. Diffindo. Alohomora. Locomotor Mortis. Periculum.
A complete set—basic, but sufficient.
At the very least, she no longer had to waste time on such trivial magic.
As for the mountain of sweets and flowers sent by Slytherin students?
Tamara didn't even spare them a glance. She simply instructed the house-elves to clear everything away.
In her current condition, she had no appetite for overly sweet confections anyway.
—
Several days later, Tamara was finally cleared to leave the hospital wing.
The moment she stepped back into the dungeons, she was greeted by the familiar damp chill of the underground corridors. The air carried the cold, heavy scent of the Black Lake pressing against the stone walls.
It was… comforting.
But something felt different.
When she pushed open the heavy stone door to the Slytherin common room, she immediately noticed it.
At this hour, the room was usually filled with noise—students chatting, gobstones exploding, older students scolding younger ones with thinly veiled arrogance.
Today?
Silence.
The moment Tamara stepped inside, the entire room fell quiet—as if someone had cast a powerful Silencing Charm.
Dozens of eyes turned toward her in unison.
Those gazes were not merely curious.
They carried awe. Reverence.
Something deeper.
Something closer to worship.
The news had spread.
Even though the headmaster had tried to suppress details, secrecy was fragile in Slytherin. Too many students came from influential families. Too many connections existed beyond the school.
Information flowed freely here.
Everyone knew.
She had entered the Forbidden Zone alone.
She had confronted a powerful dark wizard.
She had been gravely injured protecting the so-called savior.
And most importantly—
She was a Slytherin.
Yet she had accomplished something even Gryffindors would hesitate to attempt.
Tamara's gaze swept across the room, calm and unreadable.
For a brief moment, she no longer resembled a first-year student.
Something older… darker… surfaced behind her eyes.
A presence that had once commanded fear across the entire wizarding world.
She tilted her chin slightly, an instinctive gesture of superiority ingrained into her very being.
Without speaking, she began walking forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like a monarch surveying her domain.
Her destination was obvious—the armchair near the fireplace, upholstered in dark green velvet. A seat usually reserved for prefects or those of high standing.
Before she even reached it, the third-year boy sitting there sprang to his feet as if burned. He hastily brushed invisible dust from the cushion and stepped aside, head lowered.
Tamara sat down without hesitation.
As if it were her rightful place.
She leaned back, crossing her fingers loosely over her knee, her posture relaxed yet elegant.
"Welcome back, Tamara!"
The voice cut through the silence.
Draco Malfoy pushed his way through the crowd like a peacock in full display, his face glowing with excitement.
"We wanted to visit you!" he complained immediately. "But that old fossil Pomfrey wouldn't even let a fly in!"
Without waiting for a response, he shifted tone instantly, his eyes shining.
"I sent you loads of sweets from Honeydukes. Did you get them?"
"Mhm."
Tamara gave a noncommittal reply.
She had no intention of dampening his enthusiasm.
"You have no idea how much people have been talking about you!" Draco continued, turning toward the surrounding students and raising his voice.
"I told you! I knew Tamara could do it!"
He gestured dramatically.
"My father said the disturbance that night was terrifying! She faced a troll—at least two stories tall! Alone! And with one spell—boom! Turned it into stone!"
"It wasn't just a troll!" Pansy Parkinson chimed in, pushing forward. Her eyes sparkled as she stared at Tamara.
"There was also a dark wizard! I heard he was one of You-Know-Who's most brutal followers! But in front of Tamara, he was like a terrified child—he couldn't even hold his wand!"
"Really?" Millicent Bulstrode's eyes widened, her expression filled with admiration.
"That powerful… Tamara, can you teach me that spell? I want to use it on that Longbottom from Gryffindor."
Tamara's lips twitched faintly.
The story had clearly passed through countless retellings, each layer adding more exaggeration than the last.
Still…
The feeling was familiar.
Being surrounded.
Being feared.
Being admired.
It had been a long time.
This was where she belonged.
Not lying in a hospital bed, forced to drink milk under supervision.
"It was nothing," Tamara said calmly.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried effortlessly across the room.
The understated response only intensified the atmosphere.
"See? I told you!" Draco exclaimed proudly.
At that moment, a few quieter figures approached from the edges of the crowd.
Theodore Nott simply closed the book in his hands and gave a slight nod.
No flattery. No unnecessary words.
But for someone like him, that gesture alone carried weight.
Recognition.
Acceptance.
Blaise Zabini followed, holding a cup of steaming tea.
"I thought you might need this… Your Majesty," he said lightly, a faint smile playing on his lips.
There was no blind worship in his expression—only measured admiration.
He placed the cup beside her.
"Black tea with honey. Better than the hospital, I assume."
Behind him, Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis stepped forward.
Daphne's usually cold expression had softened, just slightly.
"These are nourishing potion fudges from home," she said, placing a small silver box on the table. "They help with magical recovery."
"Thank you."
Tamara inclined her head.
This time, she accepted.
Behind her, Crabbe and Goyle took up positions like silent sentinels, glaring at anyone who came too close.
Without anyone explicitly organizing it, a structure had formed.
A hierarchy.
A court.
Draco acted as her voice.
Crabbe and Goyle as her guards.
Pansy and Millicent hovered nearby like attendants.
And the more perceptive students—Nott, Zabini, Daphne—positioned themselves as something closer to advisors.
Tamara lifted the teacup and took a slow sip.
Warmth spread through her body, easing the lingering chill from the dungeons.
Her gaze moved across the faces around her.
Young.
Inexperienced.
But full of potential.
Once, she would have marked them all, binding them with fear and control.
Turning them into tools.
Weapons.
But now…
Her eyes lingered briefly on Draco's eager expression, Zabini's composed smile, and Pansy's obvious admiration.
Perhaps this was more interesting.
Rule through strength and presence.
Not just fear.
At the very least… the tea was good.
"Draco," she said softly.
"I'm here!" he responded immediately, leaning closer.
"Tell everyone to stop crowding."
She leaned back, her eyes half-lidded.
"I'm tired. I need quiet."
"Of course!"
Draco turned instantly, waving his arms with exaggerated authority.
"You heard her! Disperse! Don't crowd around! Give her space!"
The crowd obeyed quickly.
No one argued.
No one lingered.
They stepped back, maintaining silence.
Order.
Efficiency.
Control.
Tamara's lips curved slightly.
This was Slytherin.
As it should be.
As it always had been.
Her mood improved.
And with it, a stray thought surfaced.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
If she remembered correctly…
He should still be in the Black Lake.
Floating.
Possibly unconscious.
Or worse.
Tamara's expression remained calm as the thought passed through her mind.
I hope the squid isn't too hungry.
Perhaps she would take a walk by the lake tonight.
After all…
It might be time to retrieve her new
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