"Don't be afraid, Lia."
"Don't be afraid, I'm here."
Her voice was firm and gentle, like a sturdy dam trying to hold back the surging flood of fear.
Lia couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything, but she could feel.
She felt a warm embrace, the gentle strokes along her back, and a safe haven that belonged solely to her, shielding her from the cold glint of knives and the malicious mockery of the outside world.
Hermione held the trembling ball of fur in her arms and glanced up at the table full of cutlery.
Then she looked at the meaningful, searching gazes of Dumbledore and the Professors at the high table.
Lia's transformation into a cat in public caused quite a stir in the grand Hogwarts Great Hall.
A few suppressed sneers and taunts drifted from the Slytherin table.
Ravenclaw students whispered among themselves, trying to analyze this rare transformation phenomenon using "A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration" or "An Examination of Rare Magical Creature Bloodlines."
Meanwhile, the Hufflepuff first-years mostly cast worried glances her way.
Dumbledore's gaze crossed the candlelight and landed on that corner of the Gryffindor table.
A flicker of knowing relief and compassion flashed in the old Principal's blue eyes; he said nothing, only giving a microscopic nod as a silent endorsement of Hermione's actions before gesturing for everyone to continue their meal as if nothing had happened.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, her eyes fixed on Lia with a complex emotion bordering on sympathy; she knew better than anyone that an uncontrolled transformation often hinted at a deeply etched past.
The commotion soon settled under the temptation of the food, but the atmosphere at the Gryffindor table remained somewhat subtle.
Hermione completely ignored the gazes from around her. All her attention was focused on the slightly trembling white fluff in her arms.
Lia's fear was slowly receding, but a physical instinct—hunger—was emerging.
The little cat ball's stomach let out a faint "rumble."
Hermione looked down at the shivering Lia, then up at the array of delicacies on the table.
Her eyes scanned the roast chicken, steaks, and pies; finally, she picked up a piece of plain roast chicken that didn't have much sauce on it.
Using her fingers, she very carefully tore the chicken into small strips, making sure there wasn't a single tiny bone left.
Then, holding a small strip of warm chicken, she tentatively and gently offered it to the mouth of the cat ball in her arms.
"Lia, eat a little, okay?" Her voice was so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing a dream, her eyes full of encouragement and patience.
The rich aroma of meat wafted into her nose.
The small white head buried deep in her arms shifted hesitantly.
A pair of deep blue eyes, still moist with tears, peeked out from the fluffy gaps, looking at the bit of meat on Hermione's fingertips.
Danger Intuition did not sound an alarm.
This embrace was warm.
This person was safe.
Lia's feline instincts, mixed with her trust in Hermione, finally overcame the lingering effects of the trauma.
She hesitated for a few seconds before finally poking her head out cautiously; her tiny pink tongue flicked out like lightning, gently licking the meat from Hermione's fingertip.
The real aroma and texture of the meat carried the scent of the person's fingertips.
In those blue eyes, the frost of fear seemed to melt away slightly.
No longer hesitating, she lowered her head and began to nibble on the chicken from Hermione's fingers in small, exceptionally focused bites.
That tiny, barbed tongue licked Hermione's fingertip over and over, creating a slightly ticklish sensation.
"Hey, Hermione, she's eating!" Ron, sitting nearby, watched with wide eyes; he looked amazed and envious, unable to resist lowering his voice, "She looks so soft... let me touch her too, just once!"
As he spoke, his hand—which had just grabbed a chicken leg and was still a bit greasy—reached toward the top of Lia's fluffy head.
Before his hand could even touch that snowy white fur...
A gaze as sharp as a blade pinned itself firmly onto his wrist.
Hermione snapped her head up. In her intelligent brown eyes, there was none of her usual gentleness, only an unquestionable warning. She didn't speak, but the meaning in her gaze was crystal clear:
[If-you-dare-touch-a-single-hair-of-hers-with-that-greasy-hand-I-will-chop-it-off-and-feed-it-to-a-troll!]
Ron's hand froze in mid-air, as if he had been hit with Petrificus Totalus.
Seeing Hermione's serious, almost murderous look, he sullenly pulled his hand back at a visible speed, muttering under his breath, "Fine, fine, I won't touch her. I'll just touch her after I wash my hands next time, what's the big deal..."
He turned away, turning his grief and indignation into an appetite, grabbing another roast chicken leg and taking a huge bite.
Across from them, Fred and George exchanged a look; George mouthed "you're dead" to Ron.
Fred quietly gave Hermione a thumbs-up and whispered, "Nice one, Hermione!"
For the rest of the banquet, Lia remained nestled peacefully in Hermione's arms in this peculiar fashion. The cleverest Witch in Gryffindor patiently fed her two whole chicken breasts and some shredded bread, bite by bite.
This scene attracted countless envious, curious, or jealous gazes in the Great Hall. Lia was now firmly labeled as "Hermione's exclusive."
When the banquet ended, the first-years needed to follow Prefect Percy Weasley to the house common room.
"Alright, Lia, we have to go," Hermione said softly, trying to place the well-fed and drowsy cat ball onto the floor.
However, Lia refused.
She had only just recovered from her immense fear, and Hermione's embrace was her only safe zone.
The moment she felt herself being moved, she woke up instantly, letting out a dissatisfied "whimper" from her throat, her front paws clutching tightly—yet carefully—to the lapel of Hermione's robes.
Hermione tried a few times but couldn't get the clingy little thing off.
"Fine, fine," Hermione sighed helplessly, eventually giving in.
Thus, a peculiar sight appeared in the corridors of Hogwarts:
Hermione Granger, a petite first-year, walked steadily in the line. And "hanging" from her chest, like the most unique and lifelike plush pendant, was a snowy white Ragdoll Cat.
The kitten only showed a fluffy little head and a pair of large, curious eyes.
When the stairs began to move without warning toward a completely new direction, those large blue eyes would widen in surprise.
When the portraits on the walls began to whisper and even take the initiative to greet the first-years, those snowy white cat ears would twitch back and forth curiously, trying to catch the source of every sound.
"Look! A Gryffindor first-year!"
"Oh, Merlin, that's a live one! Is it an Animagus? It's so small!"
"No, I heard she's the first-year with the cat ears! She was terrified at the opening feast!"
This unique pair drew the attention of everyone and every portrait along the way.
On her very first day of school, Lia became famous throughout Hogwarts as "Hermione's exclusive pendant" and "Gryffindor's mobile mascot."