That word, whispered right against her ear, was like an icy needle piercing her brain.
"Forever."
Hoarse, cold, it didn't belong to Lia, or even to a human.
The doting smile on Hermione's face froze instantly. The warm body in her arms felt as if its temperature was being drained away, and even her own blood began to run cold.
"Lia?" Hermione's voice was dry as she tried to look at the girl's face.
But Lia only buried her head deeper, as if acting spoiled, or perhaps hiding something.
The air in the Hospital Wing solidified.
The shock on the faces of Ron and The Twins stiffened into masks; they instinctively backed away, their heels hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Fred's hand, frozen in mid-air, jerked back as if it had been burned.
"Uh... Hermione," George spoke dryly, trying to break the dead silence, "we just came to bring some sweets..."
"Right! To celebrate!" Fred immediately stuffed the bertie botts every flavor beans into Ron's arms as if getting rid of a cursed object. "We remembered we forgot some prank materials! We're leaving now!"
The Twins practically bolted out of the Hospital Wing. They were prank geniuses, not exorcists.
Holding the box of candy, Ron looked at the door, then at Hermione and the silver-haired girl nestled intimately against her; he couldn't say a single word.
The real blow came from Harry.
The scar on his forehead began to burn, the sharp sting making his breath hitch. That tone, that snake-like hiss... it wasn't an imitation.
It was a recurrence.
"Hermione..." Harry's voice was frighteningly dry as he stared intently at the seemingly harmless Cat-girl, every word squeezed through his teeth. "That wasn't her voice... it was Lord Voldemort."
Hermione's body gave a violent shudder.
Lord Voldemort.
fear, like an icy tide, instantly submerged her mind.
But only for a second.
Another stronger, more frantic thought overwhelmed everything else.
Dumbledore's words echoed in her head—"Love and protection are a more powerful... restraint than any spell."
Hermione lowered her head and rubbed her cheek against the top of Lia's silver hair. She looked up, her gaze meeting those eyes with a ring of dark green, her voice returning to that drippingly sweet tenderness.
"Lia, it's okay, I'm here. They're friends, 'our' friends."
She said the words "our" softly and slowly, as if taming her, or more likely, declaring ownership.
Lia let out a satisfied purr in her arms, and that suffocatingly cold aura quietly dissipated.
When she raised her head and her deep blue eyes looked at Harry and Ron again, the ghostly green ring had faded, leaving only pure dependence and bewilderment.
It was as if the terrifying presence that had just declared "forever" was merely an illusion.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look, seeing unspeakable complexity and a hint of fear in each other's eyes... the door to the Hospital Wing closed behind them.
The noisy chatter in the corridor came to an abrupt halt.
As soon as Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped out, they felt like three sheep thrown into a pack of wolves. Gazes from all directions, a mix of awe, jealousy, and blatant hostility, clung to them.
Rumors had already twisted their experience of passing the trials into a myth. Gryffindor saw them as heroes, while Slytherin viewed them as thorns in their side.
Hermione held Lia, looking straight ahead with her chin slightly raised. She needed a target to test the "reins" she had just acquired.
And the target had delivered itself.
"Look, the savior and his loyal sidekicks."
A drawling, malicious voice rang out. Draco Malfoy, accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, blocked their path.
His pale face was full of mockery, and his gray eyes swept over Harry before settling on Hermione and the pure white Ragdoll Cat in her arms.
"I've heard, Granger," Malfoy's lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. "Where did you pick up this little monster? I heard it was found in some Dark Wizard's lab, a failure. No wonder it can mimic dead people's voices; what a disgusting talent."
He lowered his voice and laughed wickedly, ensuring everyone around could hear: "But it makes sense. Defective creatures always need to find an equally lowly master. You're a perfect match—a mudblood and a half-blood."
"half-blood."
The word was like a poison-tipped needle, accurately piercing Hermione's sore spot.
Hermione's face darkened instantly.
But in the next second, her gaze turned cold. She held Lia tighter and took a step forward, looking Malfoy straight in the eye: "How pathetic, having to use words to show off your insignificant sense of superiority."
Malfoy was startled by her cold gaze and then turned angry from embarrassment. He actually drew his magic wand.
"What? You want to stand up for this beast? I'll use 'Eat Slugs' to make you..."
His spell was not finished.
The moment Malfoy said "half-blood," Lia's Danger Intuition had already shrieked.
A white shadow exploded from Hermione's arms!
A storm of white fur and silver hair, moving in a trajectory that defied the laws of physics, slammed into Malfoy instantly.
"Ah—!"
A short cry escaped Malfoy's throat as his magic wand flew out of his hand, and he clutched his other hand tightly.
Three deep gashes, showing the bone, tore across the back of the hand he had used to hold the wand. Blood instantly stained his pristine white cuff.
Crabbe and Goyle stepped back in shock, dumbfounded.
Harry and Ron were also stunned.
But what horrified them even more was that the white light that had caused the injury didn't land.
It unfurled in mid-air in a twisted posture.
The petite Ragdoll Cat had vanished.
A silver-haired Cat-girl with bare feet landed steadily in front of Hermione, shielding her.
Having experienced her fourth death, Lia's figure had grown a size larger and become more shapely, but her aura was now so sharp that one didn't dare look at her directly.
She slowly bared her sharp canine teeth at the terrified and pained Malfoy, a continuous low growl rumbling deep in her throat.
In those pure blue eyes, there was no longer any trace of soft cuteness or dependence.
Only cold, pure killing intent.
And deep in her pupils, a ring of ominous ghostly green was burning fiercely.
She raised her hand, which was still dripping blood and had nails as sharp as knives, and tilted her head to lick a bead of blood from her fingertip.
Then, she looked at Malfoy, her voice clear and cold.
It was no longer an imitation of anyone's tone, but her own coldness—a blend of innocence and cruelty.
"Your blood tastes terrible."
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