Chapter 114: The Unwanted Thing
With a sickening crack of splintering bone, the rogue Bludger finally seized the opportunity it had been painstakingly hunting through the stormy skies. It slammed with merciless force into Harry's right arm.
Harry tore a scream of pure agony from his throat, his grip failing as he tumbled from his Nimbus 2000.
He plummeted through the torrential downpour, a helpless blur against the gray storm, before crashing heavily into the pitch. The impact sent a massive spray of murky, freezing mud into the air.
"He's fallen!"
"Harry!"
Terrified shrieks erupted from the stands. A sea of scarlet and gold swarmed the pitch as the Gryffindors abandoned their seats in a panic.
High above the chaos, seated at the very pinnacle of the Slytherin stands, Tamara finally released her death grip on the iron railings. The metal groaned, nearly crushed under the sheer force of her fingers.
She slumped back against the wooden bench, her chest heaving with heavy, ragged pants. The icy rain battered her already soaked cheeks, plastering her dark hair to her skin.
Inside her body, a residual electric current still raged. Every nerve ending screamed in violent protest, a lingering punishment for her malicious intent. Yet, despite the agonizing spasms wracking her muscles, a flicker of near-cruel, intoxicating pleasure danced in the depths of her dark eyes.
'Did he break his neck?'she thought, a vicious smirk threatening to break through her trembling lips.'It would be best if the little savior never gets up again.'
However, reality proved bitterly contrary to her darkest wishes. Down below, though Harry was curled into a miserable, mud-caked ball of pain, he was distinctly, infuriatingly alive.
Worse still, a conspicuous attention-seeker clad in blindingly bright pink robes—looking for all the world like a flamboyant, overgrown flamingo—shoved his way through the frantic crowd and squeezed right to Harry's side.
"Make way! Everyone, make way! I am a Professor, let me take a look!"
Gilderoy Lockhart's booming voice echoed over the roaring wind. He flashed a brilliant, perfectly white smile that somehow managed to sparkle even beneath the gloomy, rain-choked sky.
He dropped to one knee beside Harry, pretentiously examining the boy's arm, which was currently bent at a truly bizarre, unnatural angle.
"Oh, it's no big deal at all! Isn't it just a simple broken bone?" Lockhart drew his wand with an air of absolute, unearned confidence. "I only need a simple spell to mend your bone right up!"
"No... don't!" Harry gasped. He was sweating profusely, his face drained of color from the blinding pain, but his raw survival instinct made him shrink back desperately into the mud. "I want to go to the hospital wing... I want to find Madam Pomfrey..."
"Don't be shy, Harry! It'll only take a blink of an eye!"
From her lofty vantage point, Tamara watched the unfolding farce with freezing detachment, her lips curling into a sneer of utter disdain.
'With just that useless waste of magic?'she scoffed internally.'If that peacock could actually mend a bone, Merlin himself would crawl out of his grave and recite a hymn of praise.'
The so-called bone-mending incantation he had been muttering under his breath just moments ago was fundamentally flawed. The pronunciation was completely botched. If he actually managed to cast it, the spell wouldn't heal the bone—it would most likely vanish it entirely.
But what did that have to do with her?
If the great Savior of the Wizarding World lost his bones and was reduced to a soft-bodied caterpillar, capable only of wriggling pathetically in the dirt... well, that image was simply too satisfying to pass up.
Just as Tamara settled in, fully prepared to enjoy the delightful spectacle of a quack doctor permanently maiming his student, a sharp chime shattered her thoughts.
[Ding! Highest-level medical accident warning!]
That haunting, overly perky system prompt, accompanied by a blindingly frantic red alarm light, flashed violently across her vision!
[Detected that an incompetent Professor without a valid medical license is attempting an illegal operation! Harry Potter faces a severe risk of his right arm bones disappearing completely, potentially leading to permanent disability!]
[Forced Mission: Terminator of Medical Disputes!]
[Mission Requirement: This tragedy must not be allowed to happen at Hogwarts! Please proceed down to the pitch immediately. Stop Lockhart's foolish behavior at all costs, and ensure Potter receives the correct medical treatment!]
Tamara's expression instantly darkened to a murderous extreme.
'In your absolute dreams,'she roared through gritted teeth, her mental voice dripping with venom.'I've already endured that damn lightning strike just for hoping he'd fall! Whether he becomes a cripple now or turns into a literal pile of mud has absolutely nothing to do with me!'
The System, however, seemed to have fully anticipated her stubborn resistance. Its cheerful electronic voice dropped an octave, turning incredibly cold, carrying the distinct, lethal edge of a threat:
[Mission Reward: Basic Mana Potion x 1, Designated Skill Book x 1, Life +5.]
[Failure Penalty: Immediate execution of Level 5 Lightning Strike.]
[Warm Tip: A Level 5 Lightning Strike will cause a deep overload of the cerebral cortex. Host will lose all control over bodily functions and facial expressions, temporarily turning into a purebred idiot who giggles at everything. Host might even hug Albus Dumbledore and call him 'Mama'.]
[Duration: 48 hours.]
Tamara's breathing completely stopped. The air hitched in her throat.
She could grit her teeth and endure physical agony. She could handle the spasms and the burning nerves. But if she were to lose her sanity? If her brilliant, proud mind was turned into mush, leaving her to be gawked at by every single idiot in Hogwarts like a drooling simpleton for two whole days?
That was ten thousand times more cruel than just killing her directly!
'You... despicable, shameless, bottomless piece of trash...'
Tamara unleashed a desperate, frantic string of curses in her heart, but her body humiliatingly compromised with that uncrossable bottom line.
Besides, the rewards this time were admittedly quite generous.
"Make way!"
Tamara shoved the student in front of her aside. Stumbling and staggering, she rushed down the steep stone steps toward the pitch.
Because she had just endured a full ten seconds of electric shock punishment, her legs were currently limp and weak, refusing to exert any real strength. With every hurried step she took, her muscles spasmed violently under the unbearable burden.
Her immaculate black hair, usually so carefully groomed, was now a messy, tangled web plastered to her paper-white cheeks. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, mixing with the icy rain, dripping continuously down a jawline that was pulled taut from enduring such intense, lingering pain.
But the most critical, damning part was her eyes.
Due to the lingering agony of the electric shock that had struck her very soul, her tear ducts were completely out of her control. Her eyes were flushed a deep, irritated red, with physiological tears swirling heavily within them.
It made those dark, abyssal eyes—which usually harbored nothing but cold, calculating killing intent—look as if they were veiled by a delicate layer of mist. She looked so fragile, so incredibly vulnerable, that she seemed as though she might shatter at the slightest touch.
When Tamara stumbled out of the Slytherin stands' passage, half-falling and half-walking into the mud...
The crowd automatically parted, creating a wide path for her.
Everyone stared in absolute shock at the usually elegant, untouchable, and notoriously cold Slytherin beauty.
"Oh my god... Tamara, she..." Hermione Granger covered her mouth with both hands, staring at that pale, tear-streaked face in sheer disbelief.
Draco Malfoy followed close behind, his mouth hanging open in dumbfounded shock. Even if he desperately didn't want to admit it, Tamara's current state was screaming one obvious conclusion to the world.
She was worried sick about Harry.
From the perspective of every single onlooker, the logic of the situation was perfectly, flawlessly seamless:
Just moments ago, when Harry was in mortal peril high in the sky, Tamara had sat in the stands, shaking all over, her face deathly pale with terror.
And now that Harry had broken his arm and his fate was uncertain, this girl—who was usually so composed and aloof—was actually so frantic over his injury that her eyes were misty with tears and she couldn't even walk steadily!
What a deep, heart-wrenchingly touching bond between schoolmates!
Tamara had absolutely no idea what ridiculous, sentimental garbage was running through these students' heads. Her mind was entirely consumed by one singular, desperate objective:
Stop that flamboyant peacock from waving his wand, and ensure she didn't turn into a giggling idiot.
"Back up, Harry, this just needs a bit of space..." Lockhart rolled up his ostentatious pink sleeves. He raised his wand, aiming it directly at Harry's mangled arm. "Brackium Emen—"
At the absolute critical moment, just as that disastrously incorrect syllable was about to leave his lips.
"Expelliarmus!"
A sharp, blinding flash of red light instantly split the heavy curtain of rain. It struck Lockhart's wrist with ruthless precision.
Lockhart let out a sharp cry of pain. The wand in his hand was instantly ripped away, tracing a high parabola through the stormy air before plunging into a deep mud pit ten meters away.
Startled, his spell violently interrupted, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher turned his head in a mix of bewilderment and rising annoyance.
He saw Tamara standing in the ankle-deep mud just a few steps away, her chest heaving violently with exertion.
Her arm, gripping her holly wand, trembled slightly in the freezing air, betraying her severe exhaustion and physical weakness.
Yet, within those tear-filled, seemingly fragile eyes, there burned a cold ruthlessness and a deep, naked disgust that made Lockhart involuntarily shudder.
"Get lost...!"
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