She couldn't understand the riddle on the parchment, but with her extraordinary sense of smell as a cat demon, she could clearly distinguish the magical aura and essence of the liquids.
One bottle emitted a poisonous scent of rotten almonds mixed with rust, making her feel physically nauseous.
Another was sickeningly sweet, like a lethal saccharin, tempting the mind toward madness.
A few others smelled like cold steel and dust, completely useless.
Only one, the smallest, round-bellied bottle, smelled... safe.
It emitted a cool magical scent, like peppermint leaves after rain mixed with a hint of catnip. More importantly, Lia caught a faint but familiar scent from it—the fragrance of Hermione's hair.
This scent carried a sense of "moving forward" and "hope."
Lia jumped onto the table, walked precisely to the small bottle, and gave it a firm nudge with the tip of her nose.
"Meow." This is it.
Harry watched Lia's actions and then looked down at the complex riddle, memories of the cat's previous miraculous feats flashing through his mind.
Ultimately, he chose to trust this cat that Hermione cherished so much.
He picked up the small bottle, pulled the stopper, and downed the Potion in one gulp.
An icy sensation instantly spread through his entire body.
"Thank you, Lia." Harry gave her a grateful look and then stepped fearlessly into the black flames.
The flames slid over him like cold silk, causing no harm.
Lia followed closely behind, also passing through the flames.
They arrived at the final room.
It was empty, except for an ancient and ornate mirror standing on a stone platform in the center—the Mirror of Erised.
And someone was standing in front of the mirror.
It wasn't Snape, as they had thought.
It was the Professor who usually stuttered and seemed so nervous in Defense Against the Dark Arts—Professor Quirrell.
"Professor Quirrell?" Harry spoke in disbelief.
Quirrell turned slowly, the usual nervousness and cowardice gone from his face, replaced by a cold and twisted smile.
"It is I." His voice no longer stuttered; it was clear and sharp. "I wondered if I'd be seeing you here, Potter."
Under Harry's shocked questioning, Quirrell admitted everything. It was he who tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, he who let the Troll in, and he who tried to kill Harry during the Quidditch match. Snape had actually been protecting him.
"But why does Snape hate me so much?" Harry was puzzled.
"He and your father were arch-enemies at school," Quirrell sneered, walking toward Harry step by step. "Now, enough talk. I need you to look into this mirror for me and tell me what you see."
Standing before the mirror, Harry saw a red stone appear in his pocket.
When Harry reached into his pocket, the Philosopher's Stone really did fall into his palm. He tried to trick Quirrell with a lie.
But a sharp voice rang out in the room from nowhere; it didn't belong to Quirrell.
"He lies!"
"Let me speak to him... face to face..." Quirrell muttered to himself, his voice returning to that weak tone.
"Master, you are not strong enough!"
"I have strength enough for this..."
Under the terrified gazes of Harry and Lia the Cat, Quirrell began to slowly unwind the large purple turban from his head, layer by layer.
The turban fell away completely.
The back of Quirrell's head was revealed.
Where there should have been hair, there was a face. A face... so terrifying it defied description. The face was as pale as aged bone, with no nose—only two snake-like slits for nostrils—and lips as thin as a line, while those blood-red eyes gleamed with madness, malice, and infinite evil.
It was Lord Voldemort.
"Harry Potter..." the face said in a hissing voice, "we meet again."
The moment she saw that face, the [Danger Intuition] screaming inside Lia reached an unprecedented peak!
In the face of this extreme cold and evil aura, Lia's breathing nearly stopped.
Every strand of her white fur stood on end, her muscles tensed to the limit, and a threatening growl rose in her throat, only to turn into a pitiful whimper due to extreme fear.
Her soul felt as if it were being gripped by an invisible hand, being crushed inch by inch! It was an absolute terror that even [Super-speed Regeneration] felt powerless against, as if her very life essence were being drained!
Just as Lord Voldemort ordered Quirrell to reach out, intending to snatch the Philosopher's Stone from Harry and kill him—
At the entrance of the room, the black flames flared up violently once again.
A figure stumbled through the flames and appeared at the door.
It was Hermione!
Ultimately, she couldn't rest easy. After using magic to urgently treat Ron's injuries and setting a warning charm, she had solved Snape's Potion riddle on her own and followed them!
"Harry! Lia!" she shouted, her face filled with anxiety.
However, in the next second, she saw the scene in the room and the face on the back of Quirrell's head.
Lord Voldemort's blood-red, snake-like eyes instantly shifted away from Harry.
That tangible, cold, and malicious killing intent, like an invisible shockwave, crossed the entire room and pinned itself firmly onto the sudden intruder.
Lia felt the cold hand gripping her soul let go.
Then, with even greater speed and more ferocious force, it reached out across the air to throttle Hermione's throat!
In that instant, her unprecedented fear was replaced by an even more primal and violent emotion!
Lia's azure eyes were instantly bloodshot. She arched her back, every strand of fur standing up like steel needles, and let out a sharp roar filled with endless rage and protective resolve toward Lord Voldemort!
"Meow—ow!!!"
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