Chapter 82: Legend
While spending time in the hospital wing might have been torture for others, for Tamara it was a rare period of peace and quiet.
Madam Pomfrey was like a dragon guarding her young. She not only strictly restricted Tamara's movements, but also hung up a sign at the entrance explicitly refusing all visitors.
That suited Tamara perfectly.
She had no desire to see Potter's stupid, guilt ridden face, much less deal with those Gryffindor lions swarming in to express their so called friendship.
The only real benefit of saving Potter was that the system had helped her unlock all the first year spells.
Lumos, the Softening Charm, Diffindo, Alohomora, Locomotor Mortis, Periculum. Now Tamara no longer had to worry about such low level magic.
As for the mountain of sweets and flowers sent by the Slytherin students, Tamara did not even spare them a glance. She simply ordered the house elves to clear everything away.
To be honest, in her current physical state, she could not stand those sickly sweet snacks.
A few days later, when Tamara was finally allowed to leave the hospital wing and return to the dungeons, the air was still damp and cold, carrying the unique chill of the Black Lake's depths.
But the moment she pushed open the stone door of the Slytherin common room, she immediately sensed that something was different.
At this hour, the room was usually filled with noisy conversation, the stink of exploding Gobstones, and the arrogant voices of upper year students lecturing the younger ones.
But the instant Tamara stepped inside, the once noisy common room fell completely silent, as if someone had cast a Silencing Charm over the entire place.
Dozens of eyes turned toward her at once from every corner of the room.
Those gazes held far more than simple awe or caution.
There was a near fanatical worship in them, the look one gave to a living legend, an existence too powerful to properly describe.
The news had already spread.
Although Dumbledore had suppressed most of the details, there were no true secrets in a place like Slytherin. Information moved freely there, and many students had parents who were school governors.
One person had entered the forbidden area alone.
One person had confronted a powerful Dark wizard head on.
One person had been gravely injured protecting the savior.
And the detail that made every Slytherin's blood run hot was this. She was a Slytherin, yet she had achieved something even Gryffindors would not dare imagine.
Tamara swept her gaze across the room without a trace of expression.
In that instant, she no longer looked like a little first year girl.
The soul of the Dark Lord who had once stirred the entire wizarding world and made it tremble seemed to descend through her eyes for a brief moment.
She lifted her chin slightly, the arrogance of a superior etched into her bones.
Without saying a word, she walked slowly toward the best seat by the fireplace, a dark green velvet armchair usually reserved for prefects or the most important figures in the house.
The third year boy sitting there jumped up as if his seat had caught fire before Tamara even reached him. He even dusted the cushion off for her before respectfully stepping aside.
Tamara sat down as if it had always belonged to her.
She leaned back against the chair, crossed her slender fingers over her knees, and settled into a languid, elegant posture.
"Welcome back, Tamara!"
That high pitched cry cut through the silence.
Draco Malfoy rushed through the crowd like a proud white peacock, his face glowing with reflected glory, as if he were the one who had stormed into the forbidden area.
"Merlin, we wanted to visit you! But that old fossil Madam Pomfrey would not even let a fly in!"
Draco complained with a wronged expression, then instantly switched back to excitement.
"I sent you so many sweets from Honeydukes. Did you get to eat them?"
"Mhm."
Tamara gave a perfunctory reply. She had no desire to dampen the young master's enthusiasm.
"You have no idea, everyone has been talking about you these past few days!"
Draco planted himself at Tamara's side like a loyal herald and loudly addressed the gathered first years.
"I knew it. I knew Tamara could do it!"
"I heard from my father that the commotion that night was terrifying!" Draco spread his arms dramatically. "She was alone against a Troll at least two stories tall! One spell, and boom, that monster turned into a stone statue!"
"It was not just a Troll!"
Pansy Parkinson squeezed through the crowd as well. Looking at Tamara's restored face, her eyes sparkled with infatuated admiration.
"There was also that Dark wizard! I heard he was You Know Who's most brutal subordinate! But in front of Tamara, he was like a frightened baby. He was so scared he could not even hold his wand!"
"Really?"
Millicent Bulstrode, tall and broad shouldered, widened her eyes and looked at Tamara with open worship.
"So powerful. Tamara, could you teach me that spell next time? I want to use it on that Longbottom from Gryffindor."
As she listened to Draco's heroic tale after it had passed through eight hundred layers of embellishment, the corner of Tamara's mouth twitched slightly.
Most of it was nonsense, of course.
Still, the feeling of sitting at the center of a crowd, surrounded by fear and adoration, was one she had not tasted in a long time.
This was where she belonged.
Not lying in a hospital bed, being forced to drink milk.
"It was only a trivial little problem."
Tamara spoke calmly. Her voice was not loud, yet every person in the room heard it clearly.
That dismissive attitude only sent another wave of worship through the crowd.
"See? I told you!" Draco looked around smugly, as if taking pride in his own foresight. "It was nothing to her!"
At that moment, a few normally quiet figures approached from the edge of the room.
Theodore Nott closed the book in his hands and gave Tamara a slight nod.
No extra movement. No flattery.
Just that simple nod.
But from someone as reserved as Nott, it already represented silent recognition and submission.
On the other side, Blaise Zabini made his way through the crowd with a steaming cup of black tea in hand.
"I thought you might need this, Your Majesty."
Zabini was not as fanatical as Malfoy, but the faint smile on his lips carried genuine admiration.
He set the delicate bone china teacup on the small table beside her.
"Madam Pomfrey said you needed nourishment. I thought black tea with honey would be rather better than the smell of disinfectant."
Behind him came Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis.
Even Daphne's usually cold and beautiful face showed a trace of softness.
"These are nourishing potion fudges from home," Daphne said, placing a small silver box on the table. "They are good for magical recovery."
"Thank you."
Tamara gave a small nod and did not refuse the offering.
Crabbe and Goyle, those two hulking boys, automatically took up position behind her chair like a pair of door guardians. They glared fiercely at anyone who tried to come too close, acting as temporary bodyguards.
At that moment, the entire first year of Slytherin seemed to form a miniature court with Tamara as its unquestioned center.
Malfoy was her herald.
Crabbe and Goyle were her shields.
Pansy and Millicent were her attendants.
And the sharper pure bloods, like Nott, Zabini, and Daphne, were her advisers and future allies.
Tamara lifted the teacup and took a small sip.
Warmth spread down her throat, easing some of the chill of the dungeons.
She looked over the young faces surrounding her, immature, foolish, but full of potential.
In the past, she might have branded them all with the Dark Mark and turned them into obedient slaves fit only for slaughter.
But now...
Her gaze passed over Draco's endlessly talking face, over Zabini's cool smile, over Pansy's unconcealed worship.
Perhaps rule founded on personal charisma and absolute strength was far more interesting than rule founded on fear alone.
At the very least, this tea had been brewed quite well.
"Draco."
Tamara set the cup down and called softly.
"I am here!"
Draco stopped boasting at once and leaned closer.
"Tell them all to stop crowding around."
Tamara leaned back in the chair once more, half closing her eyes. Her tone turned lazy.
"I am tired. I want quiet."
"No problem!"
Draco spun around and immediately began driving the others back, putting on his full young master airs.
"Did you hear her? Tamara needs rest! Everyone, move along! Move along! Do not block the air!"
Watching the crowd obediently fall back, still staying quiet and not daring to make much noise, Tamara let the corner of her mouth curve upward.
This was how Slytherin should be.
Order. Hierarchy. And absolute obedience to a single sovereign.
In her good mood, another thought occurred to her.
Speaking of which, how was her loyal Defense Against the Dark Arts professor doing?
If she remembered correctly, that unfortunate man should still be floating somewhere in the Black Lake.
I hope the giant squid is not too hungry, Tamara thought idly. Perhaps tonight she should go to the lake shore and fish her new servant out.
.....
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