The fire in the Gryffindor Common Room crackled, but the atmosphere was as cold as if it had been kissed by a Dementor.
Hermione was applying a pungent ointment to the back of Harry's hand, but under the soak of the ointment, the deep words not only failed to heal but seemed to be provoked, their color becoming even more vivid red.
Harry pulled back his hand, hiding the hideous wound back in his sleeve, and stubbornly repeated, "It's no use. Professor McGonagall warned me, and Dumbledore is currently..."
Hermione looked grave as she put down the medicine bottle. "I've tried Essence of Dittany and Healing Spells; nothing works."
Ron paced angrily back and forth in front of the fireplace, cursing Umbridge under his breath.
Lia had been quietly curled up beside Hermione, her deep blue eyes staring unblinkingly at the back of Harry's hand.
Within her Eye of Truth, the wound was entwined with dark pink magic thorns, and deeper down, an almost invisible black line was continuously injecting painful magic into it.
"Hermione," Lia gently tugged at her sleeve, her voice very low, "Ordinary healing is ineffective against curses. It's draining Harry's pain, and every time it gets deeper."
"A curse?" Hermione looked up, "Merlin's ten-frequency remote-controlled silent vibration! I still underestimated her guts!" She immediately understood the severity of the problem, "Doesn't Dumbledore know?"
"It's no use," Harry's voice was low and stubborn as he pulled his hand back and hid it in his sleeve. "Professor McGonagall has already warned me not to provoke Umbridge. Dumbledore can barely protect himself right now."
"Hermione..." Lia's voice lost its usual gentleness. "This wound is a curse cast behind his back by that pink woman."
"Tonight, I'm going to collect some interest."
A green light swirled in Lia's eyes.
Such crude methods, such unsightly tricks, such disgusting behavior.
If it weren't for the fact that Tom was just a soul fragment now, he would have personally gone to let Umbridge experience what true Dark Arts were.
"Lia!" Hermione immediately stood up and grabbed her wrist; her palm was icy cold.
Lia didn't look back, only saying softly, "I can't stand it anymore, Hermione."
Hermione looked at Lia's profile; under the moonlight, the fur on those cat ears seemed to stand on end with anger.
From the depths of those blue eyes, she saw an unsuppressed green glow.
She looked at the silver bell collar on Lia's neck; Fawkes's gold and red patterns, unsurprisingly, were not glowing.
"Alright."
Hermione thought for a moment; rather than letting Lia vent on her own, it was better to hold the reins herself.
She took a step forward, stood in front of Lia, and gently straightened her slightly messy collar, just as she did every time they went out.
"Go ahead," she said softly. "But I'm coming with you."
Lia was slightly startled and turned her head to see the unwavering determination in Hermione's eyes... In Umbridge's office, the High Inquisitor was contentedly sipping a cup of sweet tea with seven lumps of sugar.
The bleeding wound on Harry Potter's hand and his painful yet stubborn expression gave her a long-lost, supreme pleasure of being in total control.
Suddenly, the office door was ignited by a burst of dark green fire, and a bone-chilling cold instantly filled the room, even freezing the steam from the teacup.
"Who's there?" Umbridge jumped up, her stout body appearing surprisingly agile as she quickly drew her magic wand.
Two figures stepped side-by-side onto the burning ashes, appearing silently before her eyes.
"Good evening, Professor," came the voice of the prickly top student from earlier today.
Umbridge saw a face she definitely did not want to see here and now.
Hermione and Lia.
That beautiful "little pet" she thought she could manipulate at will was standing quietly beside Hermione.
She stood there silently now, her snow-white cat ears and long silver hair emitting an ominous glow in the shadows.
"You... how did you get in? This is an illegal intrusion against the senior undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic!" Umbridge's voice became shrill with terror, instinctively citing rules to bolster her courage.
"Your door cannot stop us," Hermione slowly approached her, each step sounding like it was treading on Umbridge's heartbeat. "And neither can your magic."
Lia raised her hand and pointed a finger lightly at the strangely shaped black quill on Umbridge's desk.
She didn't even chant a spell; she merely recited a simple and pure command in her heart, one she had plucked from Tom Riddle's soul fragment.
The torrent of dark knowledge surged in her mind, bringing a thrill of destruction that left her dangerously intoxicated.
No magic wand, no light.
That blood quill, made of special materials and saturated with Dark Arts, instantly ignited with pale white flames that sounded like the wails of countless suffering souls.
In just a few seconds, it turned into a pile of pitch-black ash and was scattered by a cold wind.
Umbridge backed away in terror, her magic wand pointing futilely at Lia, her lips trembling.
"You... you dare destroy Ministry of Magic property! I'll have you thrown into Azkaban!"
"Azkaban?" Lia tilted her head as if she had heard a ridiculous joke. "In my eyes, you, the Ministry of Magic, and that quill of yours are all the same thing."
Lia's blue-green eyes stared directly at Umbridge.
"You are a pile of rotting, foul-smelling pink trash."
Umbridge felt as if her soul had been stripped bare; all her darkest, filthiest thoughts were exposed under those eerie green eyes.
A fear originating from instinct, like being stared down by a natural predator, seized her.
Lia's figure flashed, appearing instantly in front of her, her cold fingernails almost touching the tip of her nose.
"I'm warning you," Lia's voice was as soft as a whisper, yet it carried a bone-chilling cold that pierced clearly into her ears, "don't mess around in Hogwarts."
"Next time, if I see any trace you've left on anyone again..."
She withdrew her hand and extended another finger, lightly flicking the air toward the decorative plate next to Umbridge that featured a stupid cat.
"Reducto."
"Bang!!!"
With a muffled explosion, the exquisite porcelain plate instantly shattered into billions of invisible particles, leaving not a single trace, as if it had never existed.
"Ah—!" Umbridge let out a shrill scream, her legs giving way as she collapsed onto the floor. A suspicious puddle quickly spread beneath her skirt, and she shook like a leaf.
Lia didn't give her another look; such a pathetic sight made her feel her eyes were being fouled. Her body merged into the shadows again, disappearing from the office.
Only a cold sentence remained, echoing in the empty room that now reeked of urine.
"Remember this feeling. Next time, the one shattering will be you."
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