The Great Hall of Hogwarts was magnificent, the magical sky on the ceiling reflecting the bright stars.
But this year's atmosphere was exceptionally oppressive, as if even the light of the candles was swallowed by an invisible haze, so sticky it made one feel suffocated.
The students' conversations were kept very low, whispering about the pink figure at the staff table.
Dolores Umbridge sat there conspicuously, like a ripe peach about to fester, surveying the entire Great Hall with her cloyingly sweet smile; wherever her gaze landed, even the air became thick.
Lia sat between Hermione and Ginny, taking small bites of the steak Hermione had carefully cut for her.
Even with delicious food in front of her, that "sweet poison" scent—a mix of rotting nectar and stale rules—still stubbornly irritated her keen sense of smell, making her stomach churn and her appetite vanish.
In Lia's [Eye of Truth], the dark pink thorny magic spreading from Umbridge was no longer just a probe like on the train.
They were like living poisonous vines, silently growing and spreading along the ancient cracks in the walls, ceiling, and floor, intending to weave the entire Great Hall into a pink cage full of poisonous thorns.
The Sorting Ceremony ended, and Dumbledore stood up, his azure eyes filled with his usual gentleness.
"Welcome, everyone..."
"Hem, hem."
A delicate, affected, and gratingly deliberate cough interrupted him.
Umbridge stood up with a smile, acting as leisurely as if she were taking a stroll on her own property; interrupting the Principal's speech was a perfectly normal thing for her.
"Thank you, Principal," her voice spread clearly through the Great Hall via magic, her sweet tone carrying an unquestionable authority. "The Ministry of Magic has always believed that progress in education stems from the continuous reform of outdated customs."
She began to deliver that carefully designed yet hollow and tedious speech, Claiming to abolish dangerous practices,Prioritize theoretical knowledge.
"We will usher in a new era of peace, order, and strict discipline. Thank you."
Having finished, she sat down gracefully, leaving the entire hall in a suffocating silence.
Dumbledore stood up again, his silvery-white beard twitching slightly, but his expression showed no sign of emotion.
"Thank you, Professor Umbridge, that was... most illuminating."
His gaze swept across the hall, finally lingering on Harry for a moment, his eyes deep.
"As I warned last year, we are facing dark and difficult times. Death Eater activity is becoming increasingly rampant, we must..."
"Hem, hem."
That annoying cough, enough to scratch one's eardrums, rang out again.
But this time, before Dumbledore could use magic to raise his voice, Lia, sitting at the Gryffindor table, turned toward Umbridge and let out a hissing breath.
"Haa—"
A faint breathy sound, barely audible amidst the background noise.
However, on the level of magic, this soft sound caused a massive uproar.
Lia condensed the magic usage she had learned from Tom into an invisible ice needle. Following the trajectory of that sound wave, a precision-guided miniature spell crossed the entire Great Hall and pierced Umbridge's throat just as she was preparing to speak.
Umbridge, about to cough for the third time, suddenly felt as if a large chunk of winter ice had been stuffed into her throat. Her delicate, affected voice caught halfway, abruptly turning into a bizarre, unpleasant "croak," like a toad being strangled.
Her face instantly turned the color of a pig's liver. She clutched her throat, her eyes bulging in horror as she frantically scanned her surroundings, but she couldn't find the source of the attack at all.
Every student in the Great Hall heard that ridiculous squawk. After a moment of stunned silence, a wave of irrepressible laughter broke out and spread like a tide.
Behind Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles, an imperceptible glimmer flashed.
He took a deep look at Lia, who was looking down and continuing to eat her steak with a straight face. The corners of his mouth seemed to quirk up slightly before he finished his speech with a louder, more powerful voice.
"...We must stand united! The bonds between us are far more important than our differences!"
This time, no cough interrupted him.
Umbridge sat there in shock and fury, the burning pain in her throat making it impossible for her to say a single word.
Her malicious gaze swept across the student tables like a venomous snake, trying to find the culprit who dared to challenge her authority... During the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Umbridge had decorated the classroom with her personal vulgar taste.
On the walls hung a series of decorative plates featuring various silly cats; the cats were painted with bows and posed in stiff, ridiculous positions.
Lia looked at those pictures, her azure eyes cold.
That wasn't love; it was objectification and control, turning life into soulless decorations.
"See, she's all bluster and no substance, fearing the truly powerful. Everything about her is shallow and laughable compared to the power of real Dark Arts."
Tom's voice appeared clearly in her mind, carrying a tempting inducement. "People like this only deserve to be your stepping stones."
Lia's tail flicked restlessly; only by leaning closely against the warmth from Hermione's arm could she suppress the irritability in her heart.
Umbridge told everyone to put away their magic wands and open that stupid textbook—Defense Against the Dark Arts: Basic Theory.
"In my classroom, you will have no need to use magic."
Hermione's hand shot up immediately.
"Professor, the book says that the core of Defense Against the Dark Arts theory lies in practice..."
"Be quiet, Miss Granger." Umbridge's smile didn't change, but her eyes turned cold. "Five points from Gryffindor for such a pointless interruption."
Hermione sat down unwillingly.
Lia's gaze toward Umbridge became increasingly unfriendly, and a barely audible, threatening growl emanated from her throat.
"So we're not going to learn how to use spells?" Harry's voice suddenly rang out, carrying suppressed anger.
"Please raise your hand to speak, Mr. Potter."
"Then how are we supposed to defend ourselves against the dangers outside? What if... Lord Voldemort..."
"Ten points!" Umbridge's voice became shrill and piercing. "Another ten points from Gryffindor for blatantly spreading lies in my classroom!"
"I'm not lying! I saw him come back with my own eyes!" Harry stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound.
"Enough!" Umbridge shrieked. "Mr. Potter, come to my office after class for detention!"
Lia had been sitting quietly next to Hermione.
Since seeing Lord Voldemort at the station, that fragment of Tom had become even more active.
It observed through her eyes from time to time.
The moment Harry confronted Umbridge, her [Eye of Truth] had already pierced through the disguise and locked onto the strangely shaped black quill on Umbridge's desk.
The pen emitted a thick, pungent aura of Dark Arts, mixed with the smell of dried blood and agonizing wails.
Wisps of invisible black threads extended from the tip of the pen like a snake's tongue, licking the air excitedly.
A torture device. A tool for writing with flesh and blood.
The sharp tip reminded her of the knife that had once sliced open her own flesh.
That intense pain engraved deep in her soul, under Tom's influence, turned into a murderous intent that threatened to overflow from her eyes.
The bell rang, and Umbridge dismissed everyone except Harry.
Hermione and Ron stood worriedly at the classroom door, anxious.
"We have to wait for him," Hermione said, biting her lip.
"No need." Lia pulled them away, her voice frighteningly calm. "Wait for him back there."
Lia had a very bad feeling; that quill might be for Harry's use.
An hour later, Harry walked out of the classroom.
His face was as pale as paper, but his expression was exceptionally stubborn, his lips pressed tightly together as if enduring great pain.
"What did she do to you?" Ron asked urgently.
"Nothing, just lines." Harry's voice was somewhat raspy; he tried to walk away quickly to prevent his friends from seeing his abnormality.
Lia whispered softly in Hermione's ear: "His hand."
Hermione frowned and silently reached out, grabbing Harry's slightly trembling left hand which he had been hiding in his sleeve.
She could feel the cold sweat on his palm and the stiffness of his muscles.
Then, she pried open his clenched fist, finger by finger.
Fresh red, bone-deep wounds appeared hideously on the back of Harry's hand, forming a sentence—
[I must not tell lies]
Blood was seeping from the wounds, carrying an ominous black aura. The scent mixed with pain and humiliation made Lia's [Danger Intuition] scream.
Hermione gasped, a towering rage instantly igniting in her eyes.
Ron's face twisted with anger, his fists clenching until they cracked.
"She... she used... a Blood Quill..." Hermione's voice was trembling; this kind of Dark Arts item, only seen in forbidden books, had actually appeared at Hogwarts!
Lia looked at Harry's hand, her face devoid of any extra expression.
That memory of pain from being tortured in the past overlapped with the torment Harry was suffering now, igniting the flames deep within her soul.
She slowly turned around, facing the end of the corridor, toward Umbridge's office.
That sweet, rotting poisonous gas had become even thicker and more jubilant from feasting on Harry's pain and blood.
"See, this is the territory of the 'greatest' White Wizard, yet he allows such a lowly creature to strike at his own people."
Tom's voice rang in her head again.
"Against such people, mercy and reason are useless,"
Tom's voice rang out again, full of provocation. "Against such people, mercy and reason are useless. Only power and fear can make her learn her lesson! Blood for blood, an eye for an eye!"
Lia closed her eyes.
This time, she did not resist the dark whispers from deep within her soul.
"You possess my knowledge, Lia!"
Tom's voice suddenly became loud.
"You have felt unbearable pain; recall that agony, and then... return it!"
In her office, contentedly sipping black tea and admiring her masterpiece, Umbridge suddenly felt an inexplicable chill deep in her bones.
Immediately after, a sharp, knife-like pain suddenly shot through the back of her right hand as she held her teacup!
She raised her hand in horror; the plump back of her hand was as smooth as ever, without any wounds.
But the phantom pain of flesh being repeatedly carved by a sharp blade was so real it made her whole body tremble.
She felt as though a pair of cold, non-human eyes were watching her from some dark corner, like an apex predator that had locked onto its prey.
She instinctively looked back; the moonlight outside the window was bright, and there was no one there.
In the corridor, Lia slowly opened her eyes and turned back, her gaze falling on Hermione.
"Hermione," her voice was very soft, carrying a tremble she hadn't even noticed herself, "I just... let her taste it too. Something is wrong with me."
Under Lia's calm yet fragile gaze, Hermione's anger quickly subsided.
She looked at the faint, flickering dangerous green light in Lia's eyes, and her heart tightened.
When it came to Dark Arts, not only was Harry being hurt, but even Lia was being influenced.
Fortunately, her Cat-girl remembered to ask her for help even when on the edge of a violent rage.
Hermione reached out and soothingly rubbed Lia's head, gently pulling her into her arms.
"It's okay, Lia, you did the right thing." Hermione's voice was gentle and firm. "Whether it's Umbridge or Voldemort, I won't let them have their way."
Feeling Lia tremble slightly as her ears were being rubbed.
Hermione couldn't help but find it amusing.
"What kind of kitty would proactively confess after doing something bad!"
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