Chapter 186: Understanding
The moment they stepped out of the Hospital Wing, they found the corridor completely deserted. Nearly every student in the castle was still enjoying the feast in the Great Hall.
"Tamara, I..."
Harry had only just begun to explain. He truly had not meant to expose her. He had simply, without thinking, believed that she needed medical attention.
"Shut up."
Tamara spun around.
In only a few steps, she closed the distance between them, her eyes so cold that she seemed to be looking at a corpse.
"Do you feel particularly accomplished, Potter?"
Her voice was low, every word carrying barely restrained fury.
"Running to Madam Pomfrey and announcing my name? Telling her that I collapsed in the corridor? Was humiliating me your intention all along?"
"I didn't!"
Harry answered at once, frustration and confusion filling his eyes.
"I was worried about you! You looked terrible in the corridor, and... and Madam Pomfrey said you needed help!"
"I don't need help!"
Tamara stepped closer with a cold sneer, contempt filling her eyes.
"Put away that disgusting saviour act of yours. Do you think you're generously offering me your sympathy? Do you think that because you happened to witness one unpleasant moment, you suddenly have the right to stand there and lecture me?"
"I never thought that!"
Harry's temper finally flared.
He had truly had enough of Tamara taking every kind gesture and twisting it into an act of malice.
This time, he did not retreat.
Instead, he straightened and met her gaze directly.
"Why do you always treat everyone's kindness like an attack? I wasn't trying to humiliate you. Yes, I saw you crying, but I wasn't mocking you!"
Harry's voice echoed through the empty corridor with all the blunt stubbornness of a Gryffindor.
"Because I went through the same thing! I heard those horrible voices in the compartment too. That despair nearly drove me mad. So I know what it feels like!"
Harry stared intently at Tamara's face, which had tightened with anger.
Over the past two months, he had replayed countless memories of her in his mind.
Her coldness.
Her arrogance.
The constant vigilance in her eyes whenever she looked at him, as though every glance had been dipped in poison.
Yet the more viciously Tamara attacked him, the more fiercely she seemed to grit her teeth and push him away, the more strongly Harry felt that something did not fit.
There was a strange resonance deep within him, something even Harry himself could not properly explain, that allowed him to glimpse Tamara more clearly than anyone else at that moment.
Through those cold eyes, Harry suddenly saw something painfully familiar.
He saw himself, years ago, sitting alone inside the cupboard beneath the stairs at Privet Drive.
The difference was that Harry had eventually learned to accept kindness.
Through awkward but sincere concern, shared sweets, and hand knitted Christmas jumpers, he had slowly discovered that genuine care existed in the world.
Tamara, however, seemed determined to extinguish every light that came near her with her own hands.
An absurd yet unmistakably clear thought surfaced in Harry's mind.
Tamara looked down on everyone as fools and mocked every act of kindness, not because she was truly invulnerable.
She was pretending.
As Harry looked at the mocking girl before him, the urge to retreat disappeared completely.
Instead, understanding flickered in his eyes.
"You think I'm humiliating you? You think I'm showing off?"
Rather than stepping back, Harry moved one step closer.
"Tamara, you're always acting as though you're above everyone else, pushing away anyone who cares about you. But in front of that Dementor, you were terrified!"
His voice was not particularly loud, yet every word carried clearly through the corridor.
"What are you actually afraid of?"
Harry stared straight at her.
"Are you afraid to admit that you can be weak? Or are you afraid someone will realise you're not nearly as invincible as you pretend to be?"
Tamara's pupils contracted sharply.
He had struck directly at the Dark Lord's most sensitive wound.
Afraid?
She, Lord Voldemort, the great existence who had transcended death, was being asked by a thirteen year old brat what she feared?
Tamara's rationality shattered beneath an uncontrollable surge of rage.
"You're asking for death..."
A terrifying crimson glow surfaced in the depths of her eyes.
Her right hand shot into her sleeve and closed around her holly wand.
Even if the System electrocuted her into unconsciousness, she was going to teach this arrogant Scarhead a lesson he would never forget.
[Warning! Warning! Extremely strong killing intent and malicious attack behaviour detected!]
[Serious violation of Virtue Code Rule #1: Do not harm innocent classmates!]
[Defence mechanism activated. Wand casting permissions are being forcibly locked. Any attempt to bypass the restriction will immediately trigger the highest punishment: Level Five Electric Shock!]
The shrill mechanical warning in her head was almost deafening.
Under normal circumstances, Tamara might have compromised to avoid unnecessary physical suffering.
But Harry's words had struck directly at her pride.
The obsessive, tyrannical soul of the Dark Lord rebelled violently against the System's restraint.
Get out of my way!
Tamara roared inwardly.
The veins at her forehead stood out.
Against the terrifying pressure gathering within the System's restriction, she actually forced her arm upward.
The tip of her wand trembled.
Then, despite the System's suppression, several ghostly green sparks burst from it.
Even if the price was a Level Five Electric Shock powerful enough to knock her unconscious the next instant, Tamara was determined to pin this arrogant Scarhead against the wall.
"Avada..."
Her pale lips parted.
The most vicious of the Unforgivable Curses was already forming on her tongue, while the System's ultimate punishment hovered on the verge of activation.
Then, at that critical moment...
Click.
The oak door at the far end of the corridor suddenly opened.
"Tamara! Harry!"
A bright, cheerful voice shattered the deadly silence.
Hermione Granger stepped lightly out of Professor McGonagall's office.
Her face was glowing with excitement, and a thin golden chain could just barely be seen around her neck.
When Hermione looked up and spotted the two of them standing together in the corridor, her smile grew even wider.
"You're both here! Brilliant!"
She seemed completely unaware of the murderous tension hanging between them.
Hermione hurried over, glancing first at Harry and then at Tamara, whose hand was still half raised beneath her sleeve.
Her eyes sparkled.
"Madam Pomfrey said you're both all right? That's wonderful!"
Hermione continued excitedly before either of them could respond.
"The feast isn't over yet. We should hurry to the Great Hall! Oh, Tamara, Professor McGonagall approved my request to take all the subjects. I've signed up for every class I possibly can this year!"
Tamara's fingers remained frozen around her wand.
The crimson light in her eyes was forcibly extinguished the moment she looked at Hermione.
She drew in a deep breath.
Slowly, she loosened her grip on the wand.
Her expression shifted several times before finally settling into a deathly calm.
"...Is that so?"
The words seemed to be forced from her throat.
Her voice was several degrees colder than a Dementor.
"Then... congratulations, Granger."
Tamara looked at her without expression.
"I hope you manage to finish all those classes before you work yourself to death."
Without sparing Harry another glance, she turned and strode quickly toward the staircase leading down to the dungeons.
Hermione stared after her in confusion.
"What's wrong with her?"
She turned toward Harry.
Harry remained where he was.
The genuine killing intent Tamara had unleashed only moments before was still vivid in his mind, and his heart continued to pound violently against his ribs.
"It's nothing..."
Harry's voice was quiet.
His eyes remained fixed on Tamara's retreating figure, his expression complicated.
"I probably... said something stupid again and completely infuriated her."