The feeling of returning to Hogwarts was completely different from any time before.
When Hermione held Lia's hand and walked up the spiral staircase leading to the Headmasters Office, every portrait they passed stopped talking.
A portrait of The Fat Friar even dropped the wine glass in his hand to the bottom of the frame with a soft "clink," then hurriedly covered his mouth, fearing he might disturb the center of the walking storm.
The soreness in Lia's body hadn't fully faded yet; it was a "punishment" mark left by Hermione's undeniable tenderness, reminding her of the price of running away from home.
Every twitch of her muscles carried a trace of tingling afterglow, making her involuntarily tighten her grip on Hermione's hand.
The wizarding ladies in the paintings stopped waving their fans, and the knights stopped polishing their armor; they all turned their heads in unison.
Watching Lia with a gaze mixed with awe, curiosity, and fear, as if witnessing a walking legend with their own eyes.
Opening the door to the Headmasters Office, the atmosphere inside was just as heavy as lead.
Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, fingers interlaced, his half-moon spectacles reflecting the flickering candlelight, making it impossible to see the emotions hidden deep in his eyes.
Harry and Ron were also there; when they saw Hermione and Lia enter, their expressions appeared extremely unnatural.
Ron almost reflexively shrank back half a step, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.
He instinctively reached for his wand, but found nothing; his hand froze in mid-air, looking incredibly awkward.
In his mind, he uncontrollably flashed back to that white lightning in the Department of Mysteries—Lia rushing toward Lucius at an inhuman speed, the spells along the way collapsing as if hitting an invisible wall.
That wasn't a Wizard's way of fighting; that was an apex predator hunting its prey.
He could even recall the metallic scent of magic bursting in the air and those blue eyes locked onto the prey.
Meanwhile, Harry opened his mouth, a complex mix of emotions welling up in his heart.
There was relief for his friend's safe return, frustration at being crushed by her power, and even a hint of relief at having a burden lifted—a feeling he was unwilling to admit even to himself.
He looked at Lia, who was being tightly protected by Hermione, and a voice in his heart said: 'Maybe... maybe I don't have to face him alone anymore.'
This thought brought him a wave of relief, followed by deeper shame.
He wanted to say something, like "welcome back," but the words only turned into a dry cough when they reached his lips.
In the end, he just awkwardly scratched his messy hair.
They had both witnessed that earth-shattering battle.
They knew Lia was powerful, but they didn't know she was this powerful!
The Cat-girl who usually only clung to Hermione and acted spoiled, wagging her tail like a windmill for Dried Fish, could actually trade Killing Curses with her bare hands, forcing even the arrogant Dark Lord to temporarily retreat.
This scene completely overturned their understanding of Lia, and even of the entire world.
"Sit down, Hermione, Miss Lia," Dumbledore's voice broke the silence, carrying a hint of imperceptible fatigue.
Hermione pulled Lia to a chair and sat down, her arm never letting go of Lia's hand.
She could feel that the complex gazes around them made Lia a bit uncomfortable; the tip of the snow-white tail behind her twitched unconsciously, wrapping more tightly around Hermione's calf.
"First, I have some news to tell you," Dumbledore spoke calmly. "Cornelius Fudge resigned from the position of Minister yesterday."
This news was not surprising.
"His successor is Rufus Scrimgeour, the former Head of the Auror Office."
Dumbledore continued,
"He is a man of action, tough and decisive. The Ministry of Magic has officially recognized Lord Voldemort's return and has entered a state of war."
"Then they..." Hermione immediately caught the point, her voice wary, "What is their attitude toward Lia?"
Dumbledore's deep blue eyes finally looked up from behind his lenses and landed on Lia.
That gaze was as deep as the sea, piercing through her skin to look directly at the dark vortex coexisting with the light deep in her soul.
"They are panicked."
Dumbledore said slowly,
"In panic, the Ministry of Magic always makes some foolish decisions.
In their eyes, Miss Lia is both the hero who ended that night's disaster and a... huge risk, more incomprehensible and uncontrollable than Lord Voldemort."
His tone became serious.
"Scrimgeour sent someone to contact me this morning; he hopes the Ministry of Magic can 'take over' Miss Lia,
to conduct a comprehensive'study' and 'evaluation' of her to determine her 'controllability' and 'utility value'."
"Again?!" Hermione's voice instantly rose, visible ripples of magic dissipating from her, making the silver instruments on the desk hum.
Anger burned in her eyes; she was already used to this.
The Ministry of Magic seemed to have some morbid obsession with Lia, always harboring unrealistic fantasies about her, acting as if they could actually control an existence that even Lord Voldemort could do nothing about.
To put it bluntly, a magical creature that could trade Killing Curses with Lord Voldemort—
if she was willing to sit here quietly and talk to them now, they should get on their knees and thank Merlin!
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