Inch by inch, her body regained its softness and warmth. A flush of life returned to her pale cheeks.
That heart, which had stopped beating, seemed to respond to a distant call after its long silence; within her quiet chest, it gave a soft, tentative quiver.
Then, with a "thump," it began to pulse powerfully once more!
"Thump!"
The cold memories of death receded like the tide. Lia's eyelashes fluttered violently, and she snapped her eyes open.
"Hermione!"
Without a second thought, the instinct deep in her soul made Lia spring from the bed the moment she woke, not even pausing to feel the changes in her own body as she threw herself desperately toward the adjacent bed!
What her hands touched was Hermione's arm, cold and stiff as stone.
Lia's movements froze. She stared blankly at the lifeless Hermione, who still held her mirror-wielding pose. Those azure eyes, which had just regained their luster, were instantly filled with immense fear and panic.
But in the next second, her new eyes—baptized by death—allowed her to see something different.
Although Hermione's body was cold, in Lia's vision, Hermione's soul was like a stubbornly burning flame wrapped in layers of grey crystals! Those grey crystals were the Basilisk's petrification curse, constantly compressing that flame of life.
She's alive! She's just trapped!
This realization allowed Lia's heart, which had been on the verge of bursting, to steady slightly. Thank goodness... thank goodness... She let out a long, shaky breath. She had a way to save Hermione.
Ignoring the shocked stares of the three Professors beside her, Lia leaned down, revealing her graceful and fragile neck. She opened her mouth without hesitation and, with her small canines, gently bit down.
"Hiss—"
Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey gasped, about to step in and stop her.
"Wait!" Dumbledore raised a hand to stop them, his eyes gleaming with an unprecedented light.
In Lia's eyes, she saw a stream of pure golden life energy flow from the tips of her teeth into Hermione's body. This energy was like the most potent de-icer, instantly smashing through the grey crystals surrounding Hermione's soul!
Those crystals of the petrification curse let out a silent wail under the impact of the golden life force, shattering inch by inch into nothingness.
Visibly, Hermione's grey and stiff skin, starting from the neck where Lia bit her, began to lose its deathly pallor and regain a healthy flush and softness, as if spring had returned to the earth.
Within seconds, the girl's stiff body softened completely, and her chest began to rise and fall steadily, as if she had merely fallen into a deep sleep.
The three Professors looked at each other, all seeing the unbelievable shock in one another's eyes. This was nothing short of a miracle!
Only then did Lia release her grip, belatedly noticing the change in her eyes. After a slight sting, the entire world was completely reconstructed in her vision.
What floated in the air was no longer dust, but shimmering particles of magic. Within the patterns of the ancient stone bricks on the walls, the magical traces left by time were deposited.
She looked up.
In her eyes, Dumbledore was no longer an old man in robes, but a warm, massive, yet restrained miniature sun; that majestic torrent of magic made her instinctively want to draw close while also feeling awe.
Professor McGonagall's magic was like countless precise silver threads, woven into a rigorous and magnificent Scottish tartan.
Just then, the door to the Hospital Wing was burst open.
"Oh, you poor children! I heard the terrible news!"
Gilderoy Lockhart walked in, wearing a set of ostentatious lavender robes, followed by a reporter from The Daily Prophet holding a camera. A formulaic expression of grief was plastered on his face, but his eyes sparkled with irrepressible excitement.
"Another victim! This will undoubtedly be front-page news! Quick, take a photo of me comforting them!" he whispered to the reporter, thinking no one could hear.
Lockhart strode to the bedside, preparing to strike a sorrowful yet handsome pose.
Lia slowly looked up, those azure eyes that had just experienced death looking coldly at him.
In her eyes, Lockhart himself was a ridiculous, clumsy piece of theater.
He was covered in a multicolored, false halo woven from stolen courage and countless Memory Charms. That halo was even entwined with blurred resentments belonging to other Wizards. But this halo was laughably thin in Lia's eyes, like a layer of low-quality, mottled oil paint that would peel off with a gentle poke, revealing the truest, filthiest base underneath.
And beneath that layer of fake oil paint, his own magic was weak and murky, like a candle about to go out in a damp Dungeon—it couldn't even compare to the magical fluctuations in a cup of water Madam Pomfrey had forgotten on the side table.
He was a complete, nauseating fraud.
A talentless hack who had risen to power by stealing others' achievements and modifying their memories.
For the first time, with these brand-new eyes, Lia saw through the essence of a person's soul so clearly and thoroughly.
Holding the newly warm Hermione, she tilted her head, her sky-clear azure eyes showing unabashed disdain.
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