The spiral staircase closed slowly behind them, sealing the heavy, suffocating secrets of the Headmasters Office and Dumbledore's weary figure behind the door.
The corridors of Hogwarts were as they had always been, with torches casting flickering shadows on the stone walls, stretching the shadows of the two figures long and short.
Yet the campus tranquility in the air felt exceptionally oppressive, much like the Forbidden Forest before a storm.
Hermione's steps were somewhat unsteady, Dumbledore's terrifyingly calm words echoing repeatedly in her mind.
"In the end, Snape will personally... end my life."
"This is our joint plan, Miss Granger."
Every word was like a cold chisel, carving huge cracks into the understanding of justice and sacrifice she had built.
She had always thought that battle meant heroic charges and justice ultimately triumphed over evil.
She had never imagined that on the chessboard of this war, the greatest Wizard would treat his own life as the most critical sacrifice.
Lia turned back into her cat form and lay quietly in the crook of Hermione's arm.
She made no sound, only using the tip of her tail to gently brush against Hermione's cold wrist, over and over again.
The next day in the Gryffindor Common Room, the fire in the fireplace was burning brightly.
Harry and Ron learned of Hermione and Lia's deductions and actions from the previous night, their faces filled with worry.
"How did it go? What did Dumbledore say?" Harry asked urgently.
Hermione shook her head, forcing a smile that looked more painful than crying. "It's nothing... the Professor said he would handle it."
She didn't want to, and couldn't, tell anyone about that cruel plan.
It was a scheme Dumbledore had laid with his life; any leak could lead to a total collapse.
In the days that followed, classes at Hogwarts proceeded as usual.
In Transfiguration Class, Professor McGonagall remained strict; in Potion Class, Professor Slughorn was still enthusiastically boasting about his prize students.
On the surface, nothing had changed.
But Hermione, Harry, and Ron could all feel that beneath the calm surface of the lake, a colossal wave was brewing.
Whispers in the corridors increased, the barriers between different houses became more distinct, and even the air carried a tense atmosphere of a gathering storm.
And the biggest change came from Lia.
Hermione keenly noticed it.
She no longer needed constant petting and hugging like before.
She no longer nudged Hermione's hand with her head or brushed her cheek with her tail just because Hermione had ignored her for over an hour while reading.
Lia had learned to be quiet.
She would pull a thick volume of Advanced Rune Translation from Hermione's bookshelf in a way incomprehensible to ordinary people, then transform into her Cat-girl form and curl up in the soft armchair beside Hermione, reading for the entire afternoon.
Her movements while turning pages were very light, her slender fingers tracing the ancient parchment, her blue eyes reflecting those complex symbols, focused like a scholar who had studied for years.
Once, after Hermione finished reading a lengthy Ministry of Magic announcement about strengthening Hogwarts security, she subconsciously complained: "Fudge is simply being utterly stupid! These measures do nothing but cause panic among students; they have no practical effect at all!"
Lia, beside her, didn't even look up, just spoke calmly.
"Not entirely."
Lia's voice was crisp, yet carried a calmness that didn't belong to her age.
"The core purpose of this announcement isn't security; it's a declaration. It's declaring to everyone that the Ministry of Magic has lost control of the situation."
"It creates panic to cover its own incompetence, while simultaneously diverting the public's attention from the core fact of 'Lord Voldemort's return'."
She paused, turned a page, and continued: "This is a display of weakness. There are many similar tactics in Tom Riddle's memories."
"When a regime begins to maintain stability by creating internal chaos, it means it is not far from collapse."
Hermione stared at her blankly. That terrifyingly cold logic and precise analysis of power dynamics carried a heavy Tom-like style.
Yet the one saying these things was Lia. Her will, her voice, and her eyes all clearly belonged to herself.
She was no longer a contaminated vessel; Lia was starting to truly digest and utilize that dark knowledge as a player in the game.
This change reached its peak late one night.
Hermione woke up from a nightmare once again.
In the dream was the cold hall of the Department of Mysteries, the sinister faces of the Death Eaters, and Antonin Dolohov's purple silent curse.
She saw Lia falling slowly before her like a broken white butterfly, her body dissolving inch by inch in the light of the spell until not even a trace of ash remained.
"Lia!"
Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat, her heart thumping wildly in her chest, nearly jumping out of her throat.
She gasped for breath, her vision blurred by fear, her hands trembling uncontrollably.
Every time in the past when she woke from such a nightmare, the little white cat sleeping by her pillow would immediately come over, nuzzling her cheek with its warm, soft body and making a comforting purr to pull her back to reality from the deep sea of fear.
But this time, there was none.
An arm wrapped around her from behind.
It wasn't a cat's furry paw, but a slender, warm girl's arm.
Lia had transformed into her human form at some point, and she pulled the fearfully gasping Hermione into a full embrace from behind.
One hand rested on the back of Hermione's head, pressing her forehead into the fragrant softness of her chest.
"I'm here."
Lia's voice was very low and soft, like a night breeze brushing over the calm Black Lake.
"I'm here, Hermione."
She didn't purr or nuzzle her with her cheek; she simply held Hermione tightly like a true partner, her other hand steadily and rhythmically patting her back.
"I will always be here."
Hermione's body froze.
She could feel the warmth of Lia's embrace, hear her steady heartbeat, and smell that unique scent mixed with a milky fragrance.
This wasn't a pet's dependency on its owner, nor a child's affection for a mother.
This was protection.
It was the strong comforting the weak, a promise and support.
Hermione's body slowly, slowly calmed down in that warm embrace.
She reached back to grasp Lia's hand, fingers interlacing, and buried her face deep into the slight curve of Lia's chest, taking a deep breath.
An untimely thought popped into Hermione's head.
So fragrant, so soft... so delicious...
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