It was late at night.
In the Gryffindor Common Room, only the occasional "crackling" of wood burning in the fireplace remained.
Most students had long since returned to their dormitories; only Hermione still sat in that soft armchair before the hearth.
A piece of parchment was spread out before her, and she was using a quill to analyze the notes in advanced potion-making.
Lia curled up on her lap, sleeping soundly.
The warm fire toasted her snow-white fur, making her let out a satisfied purr.
Hermione's focus, the temperature of the fireplace, and the scent of ink on the parchment in the air formed a domain that made her feel at ease.
All was silent.
Suddenly.
Lia, in her sleep, opened her eyes.
Those sky-blue eyes, in the dim firelight, showed not the slightest hint of sleepiness; instead, they were terrifyingly clear.
The notes left by Snape, crossing vast distances of space, emitted a peculiar scent that drew Lia's attention.
A thought of despair and determination, like an invisible thread, hooked into her primal perception of the concepts of "vow" and "protection" deep within her soul.
Following the scent emitted by the notes, she did not resist.
She actively released control over her consciousness, perceiving the information behind that scent.
In the next second, the warmth and comfort of the common room vanished.
Lia's consciousness plunged into a cold, damp, dark place filled with cobwebs.
The air was thick with the smell of dust and decay.
She "saw" a blonde woman kneeling on the floor, trembling and weeping.
Her face was a mask woven from extreme despair and innate pride.
Narcissa Malfoy.
Lia recognized her—the woman in the Department of Mysteries whose eyes were filled with worry for her son.
And in front of Narcissa, kneeling on one knee, was a man with greasy hair, a sallow complexion, and an expression as gloomy as still water.
The shell of his soul was as hard as rock, but the core had long since been hollowed out by a bitter, decaying love.
Severus Snape.
Lia's nose twitched; she "smelled" that familiar bitter herbal scent on Snape.
There was another woman standing nearby, with disheveled black curly hair and eyes that were wild and burning, like glowing embers.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
She pointed her wand at the two people kneeling, acting as the witness to this ceremony.
"Will you look after my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?" Narcissa asked.
"I will," Snape's voice was flat.
"Will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"
"I will."
A thin, snake-like tongue of flame shot from the tip of Bellatrix's wand, winding around Snape's and Narcissa's clasped hands.
Lia's pupils contracted slightly.
An irreversible chain of fire, condensed from magic and soul fragments, bound the two together.
Narcissa's voice became hoarse.
"If... if Draco fails... will you take his place and personally carry out the task the Master has assigned?"
A brief silence.
In that silence was a mixture of betrayal and the smell of deep-seated despair, so strong it made Lia want to gag.
"I will."
Snape spoke the final promise.
A second tongue of flame shot from the wand, intertwining with the first, like a red-hot iron chain, searing itself onto their souls.
The Unbreakable Vow was complete.
Lia's consciousness was suddenly snapped back.
She found herself still curled up on Hermione's lap; the common room fire was still burning, and nothing had changed.
She looked up at Hermione's profile as she continued to study the notes diligently, then reached out a finger and gently poked Hermione's arm.
Hermione looked up from the complex comparison of handwriting, looking down affectionately at Lia in her arms.
"What's wrong, Lia? Hungry?"
Lia shook her head.
She organized the images she had just "seen" and the scents she had "smelled," recounting the scene word for word.
"Snape."
"He made a vow."
"To that Malfoy's mother, to protect him."
Hermione's quill stopped mid-air; a drop of ink bloomed on the parchment like an ominous black spot.
Lia's azure eyes reflected Hermione's startled face; her voice was clear and precise.
"If that boy fails, he will do it himself."
These few simple words, like a bolt of lightning, cut through all the fog in Hermione's mind.
Draco Malfoy!
He had been acting suspiciously all summer!
His mother is Narcissa Malfoy!
The Malfoys were all Death Eaters!
Snape had made an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa!
The terms of the vow: protect Draco, and if Draco fails a certain task, Snape will complete it personally!
What task?
What could drive a mother to such despair that she would seek assurance through a soul-binding vow?
The answer was self-evident—a task assigned by Lord Voldemort!
This was top-secret intelligence capable of overturning the entire chessboard.
Dumbledore trusts Snape.
Yet Snape is actually one of Lord Voldemort's people!
But this vow is ironclad proof—Snape is collaborating with core members of the Death Eaters to carry out Lord Voldemort's orders!
The entire intelligence network and strategic layout Dumbledore relies on to oppose Lord Voldemort is built upon a fatal lie!
A suffocating fear gripped Hermione's throat.
She felt that she and Lia—no, the entire wizarding world—were standing on the edge of a cliff about to collapse, with a bottomless abyss beneath their feet!
Hermione dropped her quill and made a decision almost instantly.
She stood up, scooped Lia up from her lap, and held her tightly in her arms.
"We're going to see Dumbledore!"
Her voice trembled slightly from extreme shock, but her actions did not hesitate.
Holding Lia, Hermione hurried through the empty common room and pushed open the portrait of the the fat lady.
She burst into the cold, deathly silent corridor of the Castle, sprinting toward the Headmasters Office.
The night wind rushed into her collar, but it could not dispel the chill in her heart.
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