Chapter 67: Encounter
The air in the Forbidden Forest was thick and cold.
Towering ancient trees blocked out the moonlight, leaving only scattered silver rays to filter through the gaps in the branches and illuminate the winding, fluorescent trail of blood on the ground.
The group stopped at a fork in the path.
"All right, we're splitting up."
Hagrid lowered his voice and looked at the blood on the ground with a grave expression.
"That thing is wounded and won't get far. Ron, Hermione, you come with me. Harry, Tamara, and Malfoy, you take Fang and go that way."
"I'm not going!"
Draco's voice turned shrill with fear.
"That's the Forbidden Forest! There are werewolves! And you said there's a blood sucking monster!"
"If you're scared, stay here and wait to be eaten by the monster."
Tamara cut him off coldly as she adjusted the collar of her cloak. There was not a trace of fear in her eyes, only the excitement of a hunter about to find her prey.
"Or keep up with me."
Draco looked at the pitch black forest, then at Tamara's calm face, and finally gritted his teeth and followed after her.
"Fang's a coward too. He suits you perfectly," Ron mocked from the side, full of gloating.
"Shut up, Weasley!"
Meanwhile, Hermione looked at Tamara with some concern.
In truth, she had nothing to worry about. Tamara had already saved her from the troll once.
Even so, she still said, "You... be careful."
Tamara glanced at her, said nothing, and merely gave a cold nod.
Unnecessary concern.
That was what Tamara thought.
After the brief argument, the group split up.
Tamara walked in front, holding a kerosene lamp, her pace as steady as if she were strolling through her own back garden.
Harry followed in the middle, gripping his wand tightly and watching the surroundings with vigilance.
Draco and Fang brought up the rear, both trembling so badly that even the rustle of leaves made them jump.
"Tamara... are you sure we should keep going deeper?"
After about ten minutes, Draco asked in a shaking voice.
"There's more and more blood..."
He was right.
Silvery white liquid had splashed across roots and blades of grass everywhere.
"That means we're very close to the target," Tamara said softly.
Her fingers brushed a smear of silver blood on a tree trunk, sensing the lingering magic within it, magic filled with pure power.
And beneath that, the faint, nauseating trace of darkness clinging to it.
It was the scent of a decaying soul.
"Harry, do you feel it?" Tamara suddenly asked.
Harry clutched his forehead, his face pale.
"Feel... what?"
"Nothing."
Tamara withdrew her hand.
It seemed the savior's scar had not yet fully reacted to the main soul's nearness. That meant there was still some distance left, though not much.
They continued deeper.
The trees grew denser, and the silence around them became terrifying. Even the chirping of insects had disappeared.
Then, suddenly, a patch of dazzling white appeared in the clearing ahead.
"That's..." Harry gasped.
In the middle of the clearing lay a beautiful creature.
It had slender limbs and a pearly mane, but its neck was now twisted at a grotesque angle, and beneath it spread a shocking pool of silver blood.
A unicorn.
It was dead.
Even in death, its sacred beauty had not faded.
That only made its slaughter seem even crueler.
"Who would do such a thing..." Harry felt sick with anger.
Draco was already too terrified to speak. He clutched the back of Tamara's cloak so tightly that his fingers had gone stiff.
Then a dreadful sound came from the other side of the unicorn's corpse, like some slimy creature dragging itself over the ground.
Rustle. Rustle.
The bushes were pushed aside.
A hooded black figure, like some enormous shadow beast, crawled slowly out of the darkness.
It did not stand upright, but moved on all fours like an animal, inching toward the carcass.
Then it lowered its head toward the wound in the unicorn's neck.
A wet, revolting slurping sound echoed through the deathly silent clearing.
It was drinking blood.
"Aah!"
Draco finally broke. He let out a shrill scream and turned to run, but the scream had already alerted the shadow.
The figure snapped its head up.
Beneath the hood was bottomless darkness, with only two pinpoints of crimson light flickering within.
Fang gave a pitiful yelp and bolted with his tail tucked between his legs.
And Harry...
"Aah!"
He suddenly dropped his wand and clutched his forehead with both hands, crying out in agony.
Without the system's protection, direct contact with Lord Voldemort's soul made his scar feel as though a red hot iron had been driven into it. The pain stripped him of all ability to move.
His legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.
Only Tamara remained standing in the clearing.
The shadow rose.
Even upright, it was still hunched, like some cursed specter.
It ignored the fleeing Draco and did not immediately move toward Harry, who had collapsed in pain.
Those crimson eyes fixed themselves on Tamara.
A resonance from the depths of the soul exploded between them.
It was the aura of its own kind.
Its own aura.
"It's you..."
The shadow spoke.
It was not Quirrell's stammering voice, but a shrill, hoarse rasp that sounded utterly inhuman.
"You... carry my scent..."
It moved slowly toward Tamara, each step radiating a suffocating pressure of Dark Arts.
Tamara did not retreat even half a step.
She looked at the thing that had once been arrogant and invincible, now reduced to crawling on the ground and drinking blood like a beast, and deep disgust flashed through her eyes.
"How unsightly."
Tamara spoke coldly.
"Look at yourself now. Like a dog with broken bones."
The shadow paused, then erupted with even greater rage.
"Insolent... How dare you..."
Then it seemed to realize something. Greed flared in those crimson eyes.
"A soul... a perfect soul..."
"Join me... or become my nourishment..."
It raised a withered hand, and green light gathered at its fingertips.
The main soul wanted to devour her.
It could not tolerate a soul fragment that had gained independent consciousness, especially one as complete as Tamara, one that even possessed a physical body.
If it devoured her, it would gain this body full of potential and be directly resurrected.
Draco's legs were weak with terror, but he had not yet fled far.
He looked back and saw the monster raising its hand toward Tamara, while Harry had already collapsed.
"Tamara! Run!"
He did not know where that burst of courage came from, or perhaps he simply could not bear to watch his only idol die here.
He raised his wand with trembling hands, trying to cast a spell, but he was so frightened that he could not even get the incantation out.
"In the way."
The shadow waved its hand casually, sending a streak of red light straight at Draco.
Draco closed his eyes in despair.
But the expected pain never came.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Tamara's wand snapped up so quickly it was little more than a blur.
A rotting tree trunk nearby, as thick as a thigh, seemed to lose its weight at once. It shot through the air with a whistle and slammed across Draco's path.
Boom!
The curse struck the trunk, blasting it to splinters.
It was not as elegant as a Shield Charm, but the crude and direct physical defense blocked the attack perfectly.
Draco was thrown to the ground by the shockwave, but that very impact saved his life.
"Stay back, Draco," Tamara said without turning around, her voice terrifyingly calm.
"This is no place for children."
.....
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