Chapter 79: Give It to Me
Tamara brushed the ash from her robes with visible disgust. The Troll's shrill screams had already been swallowed by the wall of fire.
Ahead lay a vast circular chamber.
At the center of it stood only one thing.
A huge, magnificent mirror. The Mirror of Erised.
At that moment, a one sided game of cat and mouse was unfolding before it.
Harry Potter was slumped on the steps, his face deathly pale, clutching something tightly in his hand. His eyes were filled with terror.
In front of him, a man with his purple turban unwrapped was closing in step by step, his back turned to Tamara.
It was Quirrell.
And on the back of his head was that hideous face, Lord Voldemort's main soul.
"Give me the Stone!"
The main soul let out a hoarse, greedy roar.
"Not a chance!" Harry shouted, scrambling backward in desperation.
"Kill him, you fool! Stop wasting time!" the main soul shrieked at the hesitant Quirrell. "Get the Stone, and I can return!"
Quirrell raised his wand.
Although he had already reached an agreement with Tamara, under the crushing pressure of the main soul, he did not dare disobey.
"Avada..."
The deadly incantation had already begun to leave Quirrell's lips.
Tamara, meanwhile, watched coldly from the side without lifting her wand an inch.
This was fine.
She could not kill the savior herself, but that did not mean she was obliged to stop others from doing it.
Then, at the critical moment, the system shrieked in her mind.
[Ding! High risk alert!]
[Key figure Harry Potter is about to die! The world line is at risk of collapse!]
[Forced mission: Guardian Angel.]
[Reward: Unlock all first year spells.]
[Please stop this murder immediately! If Harry Potter dies, your legal identity in this world will also be severely threatened.]
Before Tamara could even snap back that it had nothing to do with her, the system spoke again, colder this time.
[Warning: Harry Potter is the fate anchor of this world. If he dies an unnatural death, the world line will completely collapse.]
[The system will then initiate an emergency rollback program.]
[Punishment: The host will be forcibly stripped of all magic talent and deported to Wools Orphanage in 1926 to relive your wonderful childhood without any magic power.]
Tamara's hand jerked violently around her wand.
Each sentence was like a poisoned knife, striking at the deepest fear buried within Lord Voldemort's soul.
If she were turned into a powerless wretch and thrown back into that orphanage filled with mildew, despair, and Muggles, she would rather die again on the spot.
"Damn it..."
No matter how badly she wanted Potter dead, she could not let him die in a way that dragged her down with him.
"Expelliarmus!"
Tamara snapped her wand up.
A red bolt shot out and struck Quirrell's wrist with perfect accuracy.
"Ah!"
Quirrell cried out in pain as his wand flew from his hand and skidded across the marble floor.
He and Harry turned toward the doorway at the same time.
There stood the black haired girl in Slytherin robes, her holly wand still smoking faintly.
"Tamara!"
Harry's voice burst with surprise and joy, as if he had just seen an angel descend from the heavens.
"You again..."
Quirrell turned, exposing that monstrous face on the back of his head.
The main soul's blood red eyes fixed on Tamara. The greed inside them burned even more fiercely than before.
"That perfect vessel..."
The moment he saw her, the Philosopher's Stone in Harry's hand seemed to lose all importance.
All his attention shifted to Tamara.
"Since you've come, then stay!"
"Kill her! Take her body!"
Driven by the main soul, Quirrell lunged like a rabid beast. Even without a wand, he charged at Tamara with murder blazing in his eyes.
He did not merely want to kill her.
He wanted to devour her.
"Move, Potter!"
Tamara shoved Harry roughly aside while slipping away from Quirrell's lunge.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The curse struck Quirrell in the shoulder, but he only swayed and did not fall.
The main soul was burning through Quirrell's life force, making him temporarily resistant to such low level spells.
"Useless..." the main soul hissed with contempt.
"Such childish magic cannot harm me!"
Quirrell lunged again, this time at Harry.
The main soul understood very well that the greatest weakness of these righteous fools was their need to protect one another.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Even without a wand, Quirrell gathered the main soul's Dark Magic in his bare hands. A ball of green death light condensed and flew toward Harry in the corner.
It was not the full Killing Curse, but against a defenseless first year, it was more than enough.
"Damn it!"
Tamara cursed under her breath.
She was too far away to put up any real defense in time.
There was only one option.
Her eyes flicked to the enormous object behind Harry.
The Mirror of Erised.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Tamara swung her wand with all her strength.
The great mirror tore loose from the floor and flew across the room like a massive shield, slamming down directly in front of Harry.
Boom!
The green death light crashed into the mirror.
Even that ancient mirror, steeped in deep magic, could not fully withstand the impact.
A sharp crack split the air.
The mirror shattered.
Countless shards of glass burst outward like a storm of knives.
Harry escaped injury because the mirror had blocked the attack in time.
Tamara, standing off to the side, was not as fortunate.
Several jagged shards slashed across her cheek.
Blood flowed instantly, trailing down her pale skin.
Tamara did not even blink.
She did not bother wiping it away.
Her black eyes remained fixed on Quirrell, who had been driven back by the recoil.
"Is that all?" she asked quietly, her voice calm enough to make the air feel colder.
"It seems these really are your death throes."
The failed attack did not discourage the main soul. It only drove him deeper into madness.
He forced Quirrell forward, ready to strike again.
But then Quirrell's body suddenly locked up.
The hands already mottled with corpse spots began to shake violently. His skin started peeling away like scorched paper.
The overuse had finally pushed him beyond his limit.
"No... Master... I can't..." Quirrell wailed in agony.
"Trash!" the main soul roared.
At last, Quirrell's own consciousness began to fight back.
It was a rare opening.
Tamara had no intention of wasting it.
But the problem was obvious.
The spells she currently possessed were too limited.
She had not unlocked any advanced magic that could directly target a soul, and the Dark Arts she knew by instinct were still tightly sealed by the cursed system.
"To rip that parasite out of the body, a Levitation Charm won't be enough."
She needed raw impact.
Pure force.
Something with enough repulsion to tear soul from flesh.
A thought flashed through her mind.
The bonus reward the system had granted her after she was forced to save Potter at the Quidditch pitch.
[Designated Skill Book x1.]
"System!" Tamara snapped inwardly. "Use the skill book. I want Flipendo."
[Ding! Item used.]
[Loading spell: Flipendo.]
A strange current of warmth surged through her mind. Dormant magic paths lit up one by one.
Tamara charged forward.
The instant Quirrell's body faltered, she drove the tip of her wand straight against his chest.
Against his heart.
That was where the soul's grip was weakest.
"Get out."
She spoke the words almost gently.
Then she drew on every bit of magic inside her, magic that shared the same source as the main soul's, but was younger, purer, and far more intact.
"Flipendo!"
What should have been a simple Knockback Jinx erupted into something else entirely in Tamara's hands.
A brilliant blue white shockwave exploded outward from her wand.
The air itself seemed to twist.
That overwhelming repulsive force plunged into Quirrell's shell, seized the soul hiding within, and tore it out by force.
A shrill scream split the chamber.
A mass of black smoke burst from Quirrell's body.
It was Voldemort's main soul.
Stripped of its host, the black mist twisted violently in the air and screamed with unwilling rage.
"I will remember you... I will return..."
The black cloud cursed her viciously, then shot upward toward the ventilation shaft in the ceiling.
Tamara did not dodge as it passed near her.
Instead, she drew in a slow breath.
In that instant, a portion of pure energy from her original self flowed into her soul through her nose.
The sensation of devouring a fragment of herself was so exquisite that her soul seemed to tremble.
"Tastes good."
A red glint flashed in Tamara's eyes, and an extremely dangerous smile appeared on her lips.
She could feel herself becoming stronger than before.
With the main soul gone, Quirrell collapsed to the floor like a sack of bones, barely breathing.
He was not dead yet.
But he was close.
Tamara glanced down at him.
This tool was still useful.
She would still need someone outside the castle to act on her behalf.
"Lucky you."
She flicked her wand, and Quirrell's limp body floated into the air.
Tamara walked to the window and pushed it open.
Beyond it lay the dark waters of the Black Lake.
"Go wash up, Professor."
Without a trace of pity, she sent him out the fourth floor window like a bag of rubbish.
At the last second, she added a rather insincere Levitation Charm so he would not die immediately.
Whether the giant squid in the lake decided to eat him afterward was a matter of fate.
Everything had been dealt with.
Now only Tamara and Harry remained in the room.
Harry was still sitting on the floor, clutching the crimson Philosopher's Stone tightly in both hands, staring at Tamara in mute shock.
He had seen her get injured protecting him.
He had seen her drive off the monster on her own.
He had seen her throw the culprit straight out of a window.
"Tamara..."
His voice shook.
Tamara turned and walked toward him, step by step.
Blood still ran down her cheek.
There was no warmth in her eyes.
The coldness radiating from her made Harry instinctively feel afraid.
"Give it to me."
She extended one hand, palm up.
"What?" Harry blinked, still stunned.
"Don't play stupid, Potter."
Tamara dropped into a crouch until her eyes were level with his. The pressure in her gaze was impossible to ignore.
"The Philosopher's Stone."
"Give it to me."
"But... Dumbledore said..."
"Dumbledore isn't here!"
Tamara cut him off sharply and reached directly for his wrist.
"That thing is too dangerous. Keeping it on you will only get you killed."
"Give it to me. I'll keep it safe. It's for your own good."
Her fingertips were only a breath away from the warm stone.
And yet Harry did not let go.
Instead, he reached out and caught her wrist.
The boy's palm was warm, almost hot, around her cold hand.
Tamara frowned at once. A flicker of murderous irritation crossed her eyes. She had never tolerated being touched so freely.
Harry looked straight at her and said, very seriously,
"I trust you."
Before Tamara could react, he placed the crimson Philosopher's Stone into her palm.
Then he closed her fingers over it one by one.
"You got hurt because you were saving me."
Harry looked at the blood still running down her cheek, his face full of guilt and determination.
"If it can help you... then take it."
Tamara stared at the Stone in her hand, feeling the immense magic pulsing inside it.
Then she looked at the foolishly sincere savior in front of her.
The sensation was strange.
It was like preparing to rob someone, only for the victim to smile, hand over his wallet, and ask whether it was enough.
"...Idiot."
Tamara muttered the word under her breath and quickly slipped the Philosopher's Stone into the inner pocket of her robes.
She glanced once more at Harry, whose eyes were still full of trust, and sneered inwardly.
"You handed it over willingly."
"So if you regret it later... don't come crying to me."
.....
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