On Professor McGonagall's perpetually stern face, the lines seemed to soften for a fraction of a second.
She didn't show any surprise or reproach; she merely gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod before turning back nonchalantly, as if she hadn't seen a thing.
Hermione's heart finally settled back into her chest.
This was tacit permission.
"...Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper; he sold them out to You-Know-Who," Fudge's voice rang out gloomily.
Betrayal.
Hermione felt Lia's nose twitch slightly in her arms.
As a cat, she couldn't understand the complex meaning of the word, but her innate Eye of Truth and keen sense of smell allowed her to catch a nauseating scent from the emotional fluctuations accompanying those words.
It was like a drop of rotten meat juice mixed into fresh milk.
"...More than that," Fudge continued, "Peter Pettigrew, another friend of the Potters, went after Black..."
Hagrid let out a whimper.
"...Black killed him with a single curse, along with twelve Muggles on the street. Only one of Peter's fingers was found at the scene..."
"Peter."
When that name was spoken, Lia's nose wrinkled even tighter.
That "wrong" smell grew ten times stronger.
It was no longer meat juice in milk, but a whole bucket of trash soaked in the stench of lies, decay, and death.
It was pungent and false, making her let out a low growl of extreme disgust from her throat.
The sound was very faint; only Hermione, who was pressed against her, could feel the vibration in her chest.
Under the table, Harry had long since turned bloodless.
Listening to the truth about his parents' death, his hands were clenched into tight fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.
His intense grief and hatred burned like fire in this small space.
Lia's cat ears turned downward; she could clearly "smell" the thick aura of pain coming from under the table.
She hesitated for a moment, then let her fluffy tail hang down through a gap in the robes, gently and tentatively patting Harry's shoulder twice.
Harry jolted, turning his head to look at the warm, soft tail. The warmth coming from it strangely soothed the wild rage in his heart.
Subconsciously, he wanted to touch the fluffy long tail, but before his hand could reach it, she sensed him and slapped the back of his hand with her tail.
Fine, no touching... The conversation continued.
"Black is a madman; he's coming for Harry now..."
"The Dementors of Azkaban will deal with him..."
Finally, the Professors and the Minister finished their conversation, paid, and left the bar in a flurry of wind chimes.
Hermione let out a long sigh of relief and immediately crawled out from under the table.
Parvati and Lavender's faces were written with shock and lingering fear.
"Oh my god... Harry..." Parvati didn't know what to say as she watched a pale Harry crawl out from under the table.
Harry didn't say a word; like a puppet whose soul had been snatched away, he turned and rushed out of the bar.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted urgently, but it was too late.
Hermione watched the doorway with concern, but ultimately sat back down. She felt the cat in her arms still squirming uneasily and looked down to ask softly, "What's wrong, Lia? Are you uncomfortable?"
The fluffy little head poked completely out of her collar, its sky-blue eyes filled with confusion and disgust.
Her little paw rested on Hermione's collarbone, while her fluffy tail pointed in one direction—not toward the door where the Professors had left, nor the direction Harry had run, but toward the other end of the bar, where Ron had excitedly run off to find his brothers earlier.
Hermione followed the tip of her tail; there were only a few empty tables and some laughing upper-year students.
"What's wrong, Lia? What's over there?"
Lia changed back into her Cat-girl form and leaned close to Hermione's ear. She seemed to loathe that smell, struggling to organize her limited vocabulary, and said clearly in a trembling, soft voice:
"Hermione... over there..."
"Hmm?"
"There's... the smell of that 'Peter' from just now."
Hermione froze, thinking she had misheard.
"What did you say?"
Lia wrinkled her small nose, the expression on her face both disgusted and certain.
"It's the scent of lies. Old, stinky, and mixed with the smell of dust."
She paused, her azure eyes reflecting Hermione's shocked face, and added the most crucial sentence.
"That smell is right next to Ron."
[Damn, after watching Infinity Castle, I really want to write about Demon Slayer +_+]
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