Chapter 159: Courage
"Hiss..."
Accompanied by the dull grinding of stone, the circular wall engraved with two serpents slowly split open, revealing a dark space beyond that seemed to lead straight into hell.
It was a vast stone chamber, so long that it seemed almost despairing. Pillars carved with coiled serpents stood on both sides, stretching all the way to the end of the darkness.
Amid the eerie green light stood a statue as tall as the chamber itself.
It was the aged face of Salazar Slytherin, with a sparse, long beard hanging down to the hem of his robes.
And between those massive stone feet lay a small, thin figure.
"Ginny!"
Ron let out a heart wrenching scream and rushed over without caring about anything else.
Ginny Weasley lay on her back on the cold stone floor, her face as pale as paper, even her lips drained of colour.
But what was even more chilling was the visible black mist shrouding her.
The black mist had not formed a complete human shape. It was like a greedy parasite, frantically sucking wisps of life force from Ginny's eyes, nose, and mouth, attempting to condense into a physical form.
"Is this... that thing?" Harry looked at the black mist in terror.
Tamara frowned in disgust.
After losing its host, it now looked like a starving beast, devoid of reason and possessing only the most primitive survival instincts.
"How ugly," Tamara evaluated coldly in her mind. "A complete disgrace to me."
Seemingly sensing Tamara's approach, the black mist that had been feeding suddenly stopped.
It had no eyes, but Tamara could feel a gaze filled with malice and jealousy locking tightly onto her.
A soul of the same origin.
But more complete and powerful than itself.
A threat.
And also... more delicious nourishment.
"Speak to me... Slytherin, greatest of the four founders of Hogwarts..."
A sharp, rasping voice came from Ginny's tightly closed mouth.
Immediately after, the entire Chamber of Secrets began to shake violently.
Salazar Slytherin's massive stone mouth slowly opened, revealing a bottomless black hole.
Something enormous was surging inside. The rustling sound of scales rubbing against stone was enough to make one's scalp prickle.
A giant green serpent, as thick as an oak trunk, rushed out from the statue's mouth and slammed heavily onto the ground, sending clouds of dust into the air.
It raised its massive head, its yellow vertical pupils emitting a deadly glare in the darkness.
"Merlin's beard... what the hell is that?!"
Ron's eyes widened, his voice cracking with fear. Although he had seen many magical creatures in the Weasley family, he had never seen such a suffocating monster.
"A Basilisk."
Tamara spat out the word coldly, as if introducing an old friend. Her tone even carried a hint of arrogance and fanaticism that only a Slytherin could understand.
"Slytherin's... gift."
"A Basilisk?!"
Hearing the name, the last trace of colour drained from Draco's face, leaving it as pale as paper.
As the heir to the House of Malfoy, he had read all sorts of guides to Dark Arts creatures since childhood and naturally knew what that name meant.
"Close your eyes! Don't look into its eyes!"
He screamed, his voice trembling uncontrollably, covering his face tightly. He did not forget to pull Tamara beside him.
"The ancient books say... as long as you meet those yellow eyes, your soul will be ripped away instantly! It's instant death! Even looking at a reflection will result in petrification!"
The black mist attached to Ginny did not give them much time to react and quickly issued a frantic command.
"Kill them all... tear them apart..."
The Basilisk opened its gaping maw, revealing fangs sharper than scimitars, and was about to lunge at the nearest person, Ron.
"Stop! You are not allowed to eat people!"
At the critical moment, Harry closed his eyes and roared with all his might.
It was Parseltongue.
The charging Basilisk slammed to a halt.
Its movements froze, and its massive head tilted in confusion.
The signal source on the left was shouting, kill them all.
The signal source on the right was shouting, shut up and lie down.
And most crucially, standing directly in front of it was Tamara, who, although she had not spoken, exuded an aura of I am your ancestor from head to toe.
Tamara merely stared coldly at the Basilisk, and that suppression stemming from bloodline made the Basilisk instinctively want to submit.
Thus, the scene became extremely chaotic and comical.
The Basilisk would open its mouth to bite, then close it to lie down, then try to bow to Tamara.
Its already poorly developed brain completely crashed.
"Hiss?"
The Basilisk irritably whipped its massive tail, thrashing wildly through the air. Because its movements were so twisted, it even tied its own long body into a knot.
Boom!
Its violent tail slammed heavily into the stone pillar beside it.
The stone pillar snapped, and a massive chunk of stone, mixed with countless shards, came whistling down toward Tamara's head.
"Hmph."
Facing a blow that could crush a person into paste, Tamara did not even blink.
She merely raised her wand coldly and flicked her wrist with elegant precision.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Although her body was weak, it did not hinder her from precisely controlling the spell.
The huge rock paused in midair, then was violently swatted away by an invisible force, smashing into the distant wall with a boom and shattering into dust.
Cool, clean, and every bit in the style of the Dark Lord.
However, she was, after all, not at her peak.
Although she had blocked the fatal boulder, the sharp shards that had broken off slipped through.
Swish.
A sharp stone shard flew past her cheek.
A thin, long bloodstain instantly appeared on her pale skin. Immediately after, warm liquid slid down.
Tamara paused.
She raised her hand, gently wiped her cheek with her fingertip, and looked at the glaring crimson on her finger.
Pain.
Bleeding.
This fragile, dirty physiological reaction that only mortals had made her eyes instantly turn extremely gloomy.
"...Disgusting."
This feeling made her feel that she was no longer a high and mighty god, but a mortal who could be injured and die at any moment.
This fear of mediocrity and death was even more unbearable to her than her current weakness.
Just as more rubble was about to fall, Tamara took a deep breath and prepared to focus on clearing away more of the debris.
A figure rushed over and blocked in front of her.
"Protego!"
It was a slightly immature, yet exceptionally firm spell.
A light blue, translucent barrier opened in front of them. Although it looked somewhat thin, it steadily blocked the dense rain of rubble.
Pitter patter.
The rubble struck the barrier, splashing ripples across it.
Tamara looked up, somewhat surprised.
Draco was standing firmly in front of her, his face full of fear, but the hand holding his wand did not retreat in the slightest.
The Shield Charm?
This was a defensive spell only learned in the fifth year.
It seemed that this young master, who usually only knew how to show off his family background, had indeed put in a lot of effort in private during the holidays so as not to embarrass the House of Malfoy.
And Draco's heart was beating so fast that it felt as if it were about to leap out of his throat.
He was actually scared to death.
His father had always taught him that a Slytherin must assess the situation, protect oneself, and never put oneself in danger for others.
Self preservation.
That was the dignity a pure blood noble should have.
But the moment he saw Tamara's cheek bleeding, his body moved faster than his brain.
By the time he realised he had done something so Gryffindor in style, his terrified, trembling brain began frantically making excuses for himself.
"This... this is an investment!"
Draco gritted his teeth and shouted desperately in his heart, trying to cover up his impulse with what he believed was a flawless Malfoy style calculation.
"That's right! Father said to befriend the most valuable allies! Tamara is so strong, she will definitely become a great figure in the future! As long as she owes the House of Malfoy a favour today, this deal is absolutely worth it!"
He comforted himself with firm determination while bracing the crumbling shield.
Besides, he was not some idiot like Potter, who only knew how to cause trouble everywhere and wait to be rescued.
He was Draco Malfoy, and everything he was doing now was for the long term benefit of the House of Malfoy.
Tamara looked at this Draco, who was clearly scared to death yet still putting on a brave front, and then glanced at his Shield Charm, which, though crumbling, had never shattered.
She raised her wand and lightly tapped the glaring bloodstain.
"Episkey."
With a slight flash of white light, the wound that ruined her perfection vanished instantly. Her pale skin became smooth as jade again, without leaving a single scar.
For the Dark Lord, fighting with a wound was a sign of incompetence. She would never allow any flaws on this perfect vessel of hers.
After finishing all this, she glanced at Draco nonchalantly, the corner of her mouth hooking up imperceptibly.
"Still somewhat useful."
Although he was a half baked amateur, at least he was much more pleasing to the eye than those two screaming Gryffindors.
And on the other side were indeed those two screaming Gryffindors.
Although the Basilisk had tied itself into a knot, it was still a fatal threat.
Harry, eyes closed, was still trying to communicate with it using that awful Parseltongue, but this obviously required time.
"Damn it! It's not listening at all!"
Harry was sweating profusely with anxiety.
"Harry! Never mind whether it listens or not!"
Ron climbed up from the ground.
He looked at the terrifying giant serpent. Although his legs were still trembling, he thought of his sister, who had yet to wake up.
"You just keep shouting! Leave this to me!"
Ron subconsciously reached for his waist, but when his fingertips touched the wand wrapped in tape, still occasionally emitting sparks, he gritted his teeth and pulled his hand back.
This damn broken stick, which usually turned feathers into ash even with a Levitation Charm, would only blow off his own eyebrows or make him vomit a pile of slugs at the Basilisk if he took it out now.
At a time like this, physical attacks were actually more reliable than uncontrollable magic.
Ron did not hesitate. He bent down, picked up a piece of rubble from the ground, and with all his might, smashed it hard toward the Basilisk's huge yellow eye.
Thwack!
Bullseye.
"Hiss!"
The Basilisk felt the pain and let out an angry roar. Its attention instantly shifted from Harry, and its massive snake head whipped toward Ron.
"Hey! Look here! You ugly, rotten shoelace!"
Ron retreated while grabbing more stones to throw, trying to draw its attention.
The Basilisk was enraged.
It no longer paid attention to the chaotic commands in its brain. It opened its gaping maw and, with a gust of foul smelling wind, lunged directly at Ron.
Ron was forced into a corner and closed his eyes in despair.
Just at this critical moment, a purple and gold figure suddenly rushed out from the side.
"Look at me!"
A voice full of confidence, even carrying a hint of fanaticism, echoed through the empty Chamber of Secrets.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
This brainwashed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had a brilliant smile on his face at this moment.
He had no wand.
He only had a brain full of crazy obsessions.
I'm going to make the headlines.
I'm a great hero.
Facing the snake mouth that could swallow a whole cow, he actually spread his arms, struck his most classic cover pose, and revealed that famous smile.
"I am Gilderoy Lockhart! The most charming smile! This is... a close up of Courage!"
.....
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