Chapter 80: Things Won't Always Go Your Way
The warm, weighty touch of the Philosopher's Stone pressed against her chest through the lining of her robes felt like a second heart beating beneath her ribs.
Tamara could feel the sheer magic contained within it. It was enough to drive any wizard mad.
Even if she could not brew the Elixir of Life at once, as long as the Stone was in her hands, doing whatever she wanted in the wizarding world would only be a matter of time.
I've won.
The corners of Tamara's mouth lifted before she could stop them.
Quirrell had been discarded. The main soul had fled. The savior had been thoroughly played.
Tonight, she was the only true winner.
However, just as she was about to turn away and think up some excuse to send Harry off, something unexpected happened.
[Ding! Congratulations, host, on completing the mission: Guardian Angel.]
[The system has detected that the crisis has been resolved and the current environment is safe.]
[Please uphold the traditional virtue of returning lost property and hand back the valuable item that does not belong to you, the Philosopher's Stone, to its rightful guardian, or surrender it to Headmaster Dumbledore, who will arrive shortly.]
The smile on Tamara's face froze.
"What did you just say?"
She spoke inwardly, her tone cold and dangerous.
[Please return the Philosopher's Stone.]
The system's icy mechanical voice rang out again.
"Absolutely not."
Tamara rejected it without hesitation.
"Anything that reaches my hands is mine. You want me to hand it over? Even if Merlin crawled out of his grave to beg me, the answer would still be no."
"I won it with my own ability. It is called spoils of war. Understand, idiot?"
"Besides, didn't you say that keeping the Philosopher's Stone out of that evil main soul's hands was an act of justice?"
Tamara hurled her twisted logic at the system in rapid succession, leaving it silent for a moment.
[Ding! Correcting logical error...]
The system paused, then resumed in the patient tone of someone teaching a preschool child.
[Host, please do not substitute concepts and play word games.]
[The instruction to stop evil refers to preventing someone from obtaining it out of selfish desire. It does not mean you may rob the robber.]
[If you take a wallet back from a thief, it should be returned to the owner. If you put it in your own pocket instead, then you are merely the second thief.]
[We are a Positive Energy Virtue System, not a fencing system for a criminal organisation.]
[Because the host has displayed extreme greed, used fallacious reasoning, and attempted to justify illegal behaviour...]
[To correct the host's distorted values, the system has decided to initiate the Level Three Electric Shock Punishment Programme.]
"You dare...!"
Tamara's pupils shrank.
The instant she heard the word punishment, her body reacted faster than her mind.
It was pure reflex, hammered into her by countless past shocks.
Her spine stiffened at once. Every nerve ending beneath her skin seemed to remember what was coming and began to tremble before the current even struck.
Then it hit.
The current surged up her spine, bringing with it a deep, bone numbing weakness.
It was as if every bone in her body had been pulled out at once, leaving her a pathetic, boneless thing.
Tamara discovered, to her horror, that the more fiercely she insisted in her mind that the Stone was hers, the less strength she had in her limbs.
The current seemed made for this exact purpose. It turned defiance itself into collapse.
"Ugh..."
There was nothing dignified about the way she fell.
Her knees gave way and she slowly dropped to the floor. She wanted to grit her teeth, but even her jaw had gone soft. All that escaped her were broken, humiliating gasps.
It was utter disgrace.
Her black hair, usually kept immaculate, had come loose around her face. Fine cold sweat clung to her pale skin. The arrogance and coldness that usually filled her eyes had dissolved into a misty haze under the assault of forced helplessness, and the corners of her eyes had flushed faintly with shame.
She looked fragile, breakable, and utterly harmless.
When she noticed Harry staring, Tamara glared at him viciously. If looks could kill, he would have died a thousand deaths on the spot.
But in Harry's eyes, that glare meant something very different.
It was not ferocity.
It was helplessness born from pain too great to endure.
A moment ago, Tamara had been standing upright like an unshakable Valkyrie.
Then, the instant she pocketed the Philosopher's Stone, some hidden curse seemed to erupt inside her. She let out a muffled cry and collapsed without warning.
"Tamara!"
Harry went white and rushed to her side.
At that moment she looked like someone hit by a dreadful curse.
Her eyes had rolled back for an instant, her lip was bitten raw, her body was curled tightly in on itself, and both hands clutched at the fabric over her chest as if something there were burning through her heart.
"What's happening? What's wrong with you?"
Harry was truly panicking now. The body in his arms was trembling violently, and her skin felt terrifyingly cold.
"Is it an injury from just now? Did that monster do something to you?"
"Get... away..."
Tamara barely managed to force out the words.
But beneath the ongoing punishment, they sounded feeble and unconvincing, more like a plea than a threat.
Harry's eyes dropped to the place where she was clutching her robes.
That was where the Philosopher's Stone was hidden.
A thought struck him like lightning.
"The Stone!"
Harry's eyes widened with horror.
"That's what Voldemort wanted. It must have Dark magic on it. It's hurting you. It's draining your life!"
To Harry, the conclusion felt perfectly logical.
After all, that monster had murdered for it. The Stone itself had to be evil.
"Throw it away, Tamara! Quickly, throw it away!"
He shouted the words and reached for her hands, trying to pry them loose and remove the cursed object.
"No..."
Though Tamara was half delirious from the current, the Philosopher's Stone was still her only prize, her only hope for the future.
By sheer will alone, she protected the pocket containing it, refusing to let Harry touch it.
"Don't... touch..."
But under the system's interference, her strength was slipping away fast.
Harry suddenly exploded with reckless Gryffindor strength. To him, Tamara was only refusing because she did not want him harmed in her place.
"Leave it to me!"
He gritted his teeth and forced her fingers apart, then yanked the blood red Stone from her robe.
The moment it left her body, the current weakened enough for Tamara to draw breath again.
"Give... it... back..."
She reached toward him with a trembling hand, her eyes filled with murderous fury and desperate longing.
But in Harry's eyes, she was clearly only afraid he would be hurt by the cursed thing.
"I'll be fine, don't worry!"
Harry stared at the red Stone glowing in his hand, then looked at Tamara lying on the ground, pale and shaking.
Anger overwhelmed hesitation.
He sprang to his feet and raised the Philosopher's Stone high above his head.
Tamara's eyes widened violently.
"Potter! You...!"
The scream never fully made it out. It remained trapped in her throat and in her mind.
Harry brought the Stone down with all his strength and smashed it against the hard floor.
To Tamara, it was like watching her immortality, her prize, and her future all being destroyed by the most idiotic possible act of heroism.
Crack!
A sharp, brittle sound split the hall.
The blood red gem shattered on impact, exploding into countless fragments and fine scarlet powder.
The red glow flickered once, then went dark.
The Philosopher's Stone was destroyed.
Silence swallowed the room.
Tamara stared at the red dust spread across the floor.
Her immortality.
Her spoils.
Just moments ago it had been in her hands.
Now this bespectacled fool had smashed it to pieces out of some idiotic desire to save her.
"Cough... cough..."
A rush of fury, combined with the lingering weakness of the shock, brought a sweet metallic taste into Tamara's throat. She very nearly coughed up blood.
Her vision dimmed. This time, she truly almost fainted.
"Potter..."
Her fingers clawed at the ground hard enough to leave marks.
In that instant she swore to herself that sooner or later, Harry Potter would die by her hand.
And before that, she would use the Cruciatus Curse on him a thousand times.
Just as she was on the verge of exploding with rage, the system spoke again.
[Ding! Detected that the host is in extreme distress. Psychological trauma level excessively high.]
[Although the Stone has been destroyed, it was ultimately for your own good. It belonged to someone else.]
[However, because the host has just suffered immense physical and emotional damage, and because the core essence released when the Philosopher's Stone shattered has not yet fully dispersed...]
[The system has activated the Waste Utilisation Compensation Protocol.]
[Absorbing the residual essence of the Philosopher's Stone for the host...]
The scattered red dust on the floor dissolved into thin wisps of light and drifted silently into Tamara's body.
A warm current spread through all four limbs and every bone in her body.
[Absorption complete.]
[Congratulations, host. Although you have lost the Philosopher's Stone, your body has now fused with part of its nature.]
[New constitution obtained: Golden Bloodline.]
[Effect 1: Generates one bottle of life extending potion at a fixed interval.]
[Effect 2: Alchemical Blood. Your blood now possesses weak Philosopher's Stone properties. It is a top tier alchemical material and may replace certain rare magical catalysts.]
[Additionally, to prevent malicious exploitation, the system has enforced one restriction: only fresh blood released by your own will through self inflicted skin damage, such as cutting a finger, will possess alchemical properties.]
[This effect applies only to the first three drops of blood each month.]
[Any blood beyond that amount, no matter how much you cut yourself, will automatically lose its magic and revert to ordinary, worthless human blood.]
[Please remember, host: rarity creates value, and a thin stream lasts longest. Do not attempt to turn yourself into a portable blood bank for profit.]
[Well? Feeling a little more balanced now?]
Tamara felt the new force settling into her body.
It was nowhere near as powerful as possessing the complete Philosopher's Stone, but at least it was not a total loss.
More importantly, this power had fused with her. No one could snatch it away, and no idiot could smash it to pieces again.
"...At least you still have some sense."
Tamara snorted inwardly, finally giving up the urge to crawl over and strangle Harry on the spot.
Then the door behind them burst open.
Albus Dumbledore strode in.
He took in the powder that had once been the Philosopher's Stone.
He saw Harry, pale and shaken, still full of concern.
And he saw Tamara on the floor, white as paper and looking as though she had just crawled back from the edge of death.
"Headmaster!"
Harry called out at once, his voice thick with emotion.
"Please, save Tamara! That Stone... it nearly killed her, so I smashed it!"
Dumbledore stopped short.
His eyes moved from the red powder on the floor to the trembling girl collapsed beside it.
For the first time, genuine doubt crossed those wise blue eyes.
Could it be... had he truly misjudged this child?
Not only had she fought to protect Harry, she had nearly died under the curse of the Philosopher's Stone itself.
Dumbledore hurried forward and knelt beside her, gently taking her wrist to examine her condition.
To avoid any chance of Legilimency, Tamara closed her eyes at once and arranged her face into a pained but resilient expression. At exactly the right moment, she even forced a tear to slip free.
"Headmaster Dumbledore..."
Her voice was little more than a whisper, and her acting would have shamed seasoned performers.
"I'm sorry... I couldn't... protect the Stone..."
"No, child."
Dumbledore's voice softened completely, and there was guilt in it now.
"You have already done more than enough."
"Far more than I imagined... far more."
.....
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