In Diagon Alley, the clamor of the night never truly fades.
The guest room window above Weasleys Wizard Wheezes shut out the noise.
After the lie came a long, thick silence.
Hermione lay with her back to Lia, her body curled up, her shoulders straining to remain steady, not betraying even a hint of a tremble.
The wet patch on the pillow, rapidly cooling, was the only evidence of her roiling emotions.
Her kitten was protecting her in the clumsiest way she could think of.
And she had learned to accept this "protection" in silence, only to then use her own methods to dig out the heartbreaking truth buried beneath the lies.
The night finally dragged on, inch by inch, between two souls each harboring their own secrets.
The next morning, sunlight pierced the glass, casting bright spots of light on the wooden floor.
Hermione woke up as usual, washed up, and changed into clean clothes.
Her expression was calm and her eyes clear, as if the undercurrent of testing from the night before had never happened.
When Lia sleepily nuzzled over, Hermione's heart skipped a beat, but she immediately reached out and stroked the soft cat ears atop Lia's head more gently than ever before.
The warmth of her fingertips was a deliberate effort, masking the lingering chill deep within her heart.
Everything was as usual; she had to make everything look normal.
Lia narrowed her eyes in relaxation, a satisfied purr vibrating in her throat.
She rubbed her cheek against Hermione's palm, confirming that the scent of "suspicion" and "heartache" on Hermione had completely dissipated, leaving only the reassuringly familiar warm fragrance.
Her lie had succeeded.
Lia thought so, and her heart, which had become steadfast due to "Resilient Spirit," felt a soft flicker of secret joy at this small "success."
So this was what it felt like to protect Hermione. Her tail wagged happily behind her.
Downstairs, Weasleys Wizard Wheezes had already opened for business. Fred and George had huge dark circles under their eyes, yet they were exceptionally high-spirited.
"Good morning, our esteemed partner!" George gave an exaggerated bow when he saw Hermione and Lia come down.
Fred was excitedly tossing a silver coin engraved with a coiled viper.
"I must say, Lia, this is the best payment we've ever received! An internal commemorative coin from the Malfoy family! I bet if we melt it down to make molds for our joke products, Lucius's old face will turn a proper shade of liver-purple with rage!"
Hermione only gave a faint smile and took the hot milk and bread George handed her.
"We're moving out today," she announced while taking small bites of the bread.
"What?" the twins said in unison. "Is it uncomfortable here? We can swap out that hiccuping pillow!"
"No, it's great here." Hermione shook her head, her gaze falling on the constant stream of people outside the window. "It's just... I have some things to do. For the rest of the holidays, we'll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron."
The Leaky Cauldron was the hub connecting Diagon Alley and the Muggle world of London.
It was a place with many eyes and ears and high turnover, making it an excellent spot to hide one's tracks and gather information. It was much more convenient than staying at The Burrow, where the atmosphere was too warm and everyone knew each other.
She needed a place to investigate the secrets Lia was hiding without attracting the attention of any of their friends.
Lia tilted her head, looking at Hermione in confusion.
She didn't understand why they wouldn't stay at the livelier Weasley home. But Hermione's decision was her direction; she nodded obediently, sat down next to Hermione, and lightly hooked her tail tip around Hermione's wrist.
The twins exchanged a look and shrugged. They never questioned Hermione's decisions; they only provided help.
"Alright, use the Two-Way Mirror to contact us if you need anything!" Fred said, stuffing a large bag of various joke products into Hermione's hands. "New items, enhanced versions—they're particularly effective against those Malfoy brats!"
After saying goodbye to the enthusiastic twins, just as they were crossing the crowded Diagon Alley to head towards Flourish and Blotts, a familiar figure stepped out of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Platinum blond hair, a pale face, and a set of well-tailored black robes.
Draco Malfoy.
He looked even gloomier than at the end of the term, with dark circles under his eyes that almost rivaled Fred and George's.
He wasn't accompanied by his usual lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle; instead, he was alone, warily scanning the surrounding crowd before hurrying off into a dark side alley.
"Where is he going?" Harry immediately became alert.
"Where else? Probably to buy some disgusting Dark Arts junk," Ron muttered with a dismissive curl of his lip.
"Follow him," Hermione said without the slightest hesitation.
Lia's intel echoed in her mind—Draco had been assigned a task by Lord Voldemort, and Lucius had spared no expense in launching a media attack just to cover for him.
This task was definitely of no small importance.
Harry and Hermione quickly pulled out the invisibility cloak, and the four of them slipped inside in pairs, following Draco silently.
At the end of the side alley lay Knockturn Alley.
The air was thick with the scent of damp mold and decaying souls. Shop windows displayed skulls, withered hands, and even cursed jewelry... Draco walked familiarly into a Dark Arts shop called Borgin and Burkes.
Hermione's group followed closely behind. Lia pressed tightly against Hermione's leg, her snowy-white cat ears pricked up alertly, her nose twitching as she differentiated the various dark auras mixed in the air.
The shopkeeper, Mr. Borgin, immediately came forward upon seeing Draco.
"Young Mr. Malfoy, you've come."
"Cut the chatter," Draco's voice carried an irrepressible tension and arrogance. "Where is the item I asked you to keep?"
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