Chapter 167: Reward
After staying in the hospital wing for several days, the hideous marks left by the Dark Arts backlash on Tamara's neck finally began to fade, turning into pale red streaks that could be hidden beneath a high collar.
However, for Tamara, this period of time was even more agonising than fighting the remnant soul in the Chamber of Secrets.
The Weasley family sent various homemade snacks and thank you cards every single day without fail, and Ginny was like a ghost, secretly watching her from the neighbouring bed every day.
Not to mention the many people who came to visit over and over again under the title of friends.
But among everyone, the one Tamara found most unbearable was Gilderoy Lockhart.
The former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had also woken up.
Just as Tamara had expected, two consecutive, unrestrained Obliviate charms, combined with that solid physical blow from the Basilisk, had completely destroyed Lockhart's already rather dim brain.
He forgot that he had once been a despicable villain who swindled people by plagiarising their stories.
He even forgot most common knowledge of the wizarding world.
But the single obsession Tamara had forcibly implanted in his mind remained like a brand.
He firmly believed he was a hero who had stepped forward to protect his students.
On the morning he was discharged, Lockhart made a special point of coming to Tamara's bedside.
"Oh! Miss Riddle!"
When Lockhart, his head wrapped in thick bandages, limped to Tamara's bed, his eyes were actually brimming with tears, and he wore a genuine smile.
"It was you... it was your words, so full of Wisdom and encouragement, that awakened the true light deep within my soul in this dark age!"
He clenched his fists excitedly, his voice trembling slightly with a sob.
"If you hadn't kept reminding me in that dark tunnel, reminding me of my responsibility as a hero, I might never have experienced the joy of using my life to protect others!"
"I've decided!"
Lockhart stood up abruptly, looking firmly toward the distance outside the window.
"I'm going to resign from my teaching post at Hogwarts! I'm going to travel the world! I'm going to truly help those in need! Even without a wand, I will use this heart full of love to fight against all evil!"
"..."
Tamara sat stiffly on the hospital bed, staring expressionlessly at this fool who was radiating the aura of a martyr.
She felt her blood pressure soaring uncontrollably again.
She had originally only wanted to find a meat shield to draw the Basilisk's fire, and incidentally take revenge on this fraud who had stolen her position.
[Ding! Congratulations to the host! Hidden Achievement Completed: A Prodigal Son Returns!]
The damned system in her head began frantically scattering flowers and setting off celebratory cannons at the worst possible time.
[Heavens! What a great feat! You have not only saved the lives of students, but even purified the soul of a fallen adult wizard! Your kindness is as warm as the sun! You are practically a walking moral lighthouse of the wizarding world!]
[Reward: Cheering Charm, a mysterious little spell that makes people happy!]
"Get out..."
Tamara let out a weak cry.
This made her feel ten thousand times worse than being forced to swallow a whole toad that had been skinned alive.
If she could, she truly wanted to pull out her wand right now and give Lockhart an Avada Kedavra.
But the torment prepared for Tamara today had clearly only just begun.
In the afternoon, Madam Pomfrey finally finished brewing the Mandrake Restorative Draught.
All the petrified victims woke up one after another, including that troublemaker, Hermione Granger.
When Hermione learned everything that had happened in the Chamber of Secrets from Harry and Ron, and learned who had stood in front of everyone with a dying body, this Gryffindor girl, who was usually known for logic and rules, completely lost control.
"Tamara!"
Accompanied by a cry heavy with sobs, a mass of bushy brown curls rushed into Tamara's vision like a whirlwind.
Before Tamara could react, Hermione had already lunged forward and hugged her tightly.
"I knew... I knew you would solve everything!"
Hermione buried her face in Tamara's shoulder and wailed loudly without caring about her image, her tears instantly soaking Tamara's hospital gown.
"Harry told me everything... you suffered such a terrible injury just to save Ginny..."
Hermione looked up, her gaze falling on Tamara's slightly open collar. When she saw with her own eyes that mark which, though faded, still radiated the sinister aura of the Dark Arts, she cried even harder, her arms tightening around Tamara.
"Merlin, that must have hurt so much... you fool, why do you always put yourself in such danger..."
She was being embraced so recklessly by a Mudblood, who was even breathing warm air against her neck.
This strange tingling sensation caused Tamara's muscles to tense instantly.
She instinctively wanted to raise her hand and use a Knockback Jinx to throw this reckless Gryffindor away like rubbish.
However, just as her hand was halfway up, Tamara thought of Dumbledore's suspicion level, which was as high as fifteen percent.
Gritting her teeth, Tamara awkwardly rested her hand on Hermione's sobbing back.
She patted her mechanically, as if she were patting a stiff wooden board.
"Enough, Granger."
Tamara looked at the ceiling, her exquisite, pale face written all over with a lack of will to live.
"If you don't let go, I'm going to be strangled to death in this hospital bed."
The end of term feast began amid the warm atmosphere of the Great Hall.
To celebrate the resolution of the Chamber of Secrets crisis, Dumbledore cancelled all final exams, sending the whole of Hogwarts into a frenzy of celebration.
Although Harry, Ron, and Neville each received a massive bonus of more than two hundred points for their bravery in the Chamber, it still could not shake Slytherin's absolute advantage.
Furthermore, Tamara and Draco had personally participated in the rescue.
When Dumbledore announced that Slytherin had once again won the House Cup, the decorations at the top of the Great Hall instantly turned green and silver, and a giant silver serpent banner fluttered proudly across the ceiling.
However, to the surprise of the other three houses, the Slytherin table did not immediately explode into unrestrained celebration.
Most Slytherin students, though joy showed on their faces, collectively suppressed their excited voices.
With tacit restraint, they all turned their gazes toward the black haired girl sitting at the front of the long table.
After the turmoil of this year, especially during the period when Dumbledore was briefly away, the prestige Tamara had built within Slytherin had already quietly changed the power dynamics of the house.
During the months when the castle was plunged into panic because of the Chamber of Secrets, it was Tamara who had stood up time and time again.
With her highly inflammatory speeches, she had precisely stabilised Slytherin's morale at the most chaotic moments.
And every one of her actions and decisions had maintained Slytherin's inviolable pride to the extreme.
For these Slytherin students, who were naturally drawn to the strong and valued honour and decorum, the skill and boldness Tamara displayed were more effective than any prefect badge.
Even if a few older students privately harboured resentment about being bossed around by a second year, in the face of absolute strength and the prevailing trend, they could only keep their mouths shut.
They were waiting.
Sitting at the focus of everyone's attention, Tamara looked calmly at the silver serpent banner in the air, appearing somewhat uninterested in Dumbledore's announcement.
In a brief yet incredibly subtle silence, she slowly raised her pale, slender hands and clapped twice.
The leisurely applause rang out crisply.
In the next second, a deafening explosion of cheers and applause finally erupted from the Slytherin table.
Only then did Draco start clapping, even turning his palms red, making the goblets rattle and ring.
At that moment, what he and the other Slytherins were celebrating seemed no longer to be the House Cup awarded by Dumbledore, but their invincible queen.
This fanatical scene fell clearly upon the head seat of the staff table.
Dumbledore's hand, which was holding a goblet, paused slightly.
His eyes gazed deeply at the black haired girl at the front of the Slytherin table.
The old man seemed to see once again that handsome youth from fifty years ago, sitting in the same spot, surrounded by a group of followers.
In fact, at this very moment, she was even more flamboyant and carried a more alarming aggression than Tom Riddle had back then.
[Ding. System Emergency Alert!]
In her head, that spoilsport electronic voice immediately rang out shrilly.
[Detected an increase in Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's danger assessment of the host! Current suspicion level has soared to 25%! Warning! Please immediately restrain your evil aura and maintain the low profile, friendly model student persona!]
Hearing the alarm in her head, Tamara picked up the silver goblet in front of her, and the extremely faint curve of her lips actually deepened by a few degrees.
Twenty five percent?
Whatever.
Tamara let out a cold, disdainful sneer in her heart.
Back in the hospital wing, she had indeed felt irritated by that fifteen percent suspicion level because she had just experienced a life and death situation and hated any variables that escaped her control.
But now?
Looking at these pure blood wizards who were in a frenzy because of her, feeling the ultimate pleasure of holding power firmly in her palm...
Tamara did not care about that pathetic bit of suspicion at all.
She was the Dark Lord, born to sit upon a throne.
If she had to live like a submissive house elf with her tail tucked between her legs just to deal with that old fox's suspicion, not even daring to accept the worship she deserved, then she would not be Voldemort.
So what if he suspected her?
He had no evidence, nor could he find any fault.
Moreover, she was now a hero acknowledged by all the teachers and students of Hogwarts.
Even if Dumbledore pushed the suspicion level to fifty percent, he could not do anything to a hero who had just saved lives in front of everyone.
Tamara took a sip of pumpkin juice from her cup, a trace of all encompassing arrogance flashing in her dark eyes as she allowed the surrounding cheers to submerge her.
Besides the House Cup, Dumbledore announced another honour.
"To commend the students who showed extraordinary Courage and Wisdom in this crisis... Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, and Tamara... Riddle."
Dumbledore looked at them with a smile.
"You will jointly receive the Special Award for Services to the School."
The applause was thunderous.
After the feast was over, Dumbledore did not let these little heroes return to their common rooms immediately. Instead, he warmly invited them to the Trophy Room.
He said he wanted to personally find a suitable place for this history full of Courage.
Moonlight poured through the high windows, spilling over the glittering trophies and medals.
Dumbledore opened a glass display case and solemnly placed a brand new gold medal engraved with their names inside.
Unlike the other children, who felt proud of this reward, Tamara stood quietly in front of the glass case, her dark eyes staring at the cabinet before her.
Her gaze was not directed at the new medal, but at another nearby medal that was already quite old.
On it, a line of words was clearly engraved.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, Special Award for Services to the School.
Fifty years ago.
She had also stood here, watching this medal being placed into the cabinet.
That time, it was because she had perfectly framed that stupid oaf Hagrid, washing her hands clean of the crime of releasing the monster.
Under the pained and admiring gazes of the professors, she had used lies to swindle all their trust and honour.
And this time, she had been forced to be a thorough good person once to earn an almost identical medal.
Two medals engraved with Riddle, separated by fifty years of time, lay ironically side by side in the Hogwarts Trophy Room.
Both were lies.
Except this time, she had paid a very real price.
"Riddle..."
Dumbledore's voice suddenly rang out beside Tamara.
The wise old man had stood by her side at some unknown point, his gaze deep as he looked at the two medals in the cabinet.
"This is a surname that has left an extremely deep mark on the history of Hogwarts. Fifty years ago, there was also a Riddle who received the same honour for... protecting this school."
Dumbledore turned his head slightly, his bright blue eyes quietly watching Tamara.
"History has a way of repeating itself, doesn't it, Tamara?"
This was clearly a dangerous probe.
The old fox was blatantly warning her, even observing her for any hint of abnormality upon seeing the name Tom Riddle.
But Tamara only turned her head slightly, meeting Dumbledore's scrutinising gaze. A cold smile without any warmth appeared on her pale face.
"Is that so, Headmaster?"
Her voice was as calm as a pool of stagnant water, without a trace of panic, even carrying a sense of lofty mockery as if she were an outsider.
"But I prefer to believe that the price and blood paid for my medal were much greater than those of this Mr Riddle from fifty years ago."
With that, she ignored Dumbledore's instantly complicated expression and did not look at Harry, whose face showed heartache because of her words.
She turned straight around, the hem of her black robes cutting a decisive arc through the moonlight.
"Goodnight, everyone."