That intense pain engraved deep in her soul, under Tom's influence, turned into a murderous intent that threatened to overflow from her eyes.
The bell rang, and Umbridge dismissed everyone except Harry.
Hermione and Ron stood worriedly at the classroom door, anxious.
"We have to wait for him," Hermione said, biting her lip.
"No need." Lia pulled them away, her voice frighteningly calm. "Wait for him back there."
Lia had a very bad feeling; that quill might be for Harry's use.
An hour later, Harry walked out of the classroom.
His face was as pale as paper, but his expression was exceptionally stubborn, his lips pressed tightly together as if enduring great pain.
"What did she do to you?" Ron asked urgently.
"Nothing, just lines." Harry's voice was somewhat raspy; he tried to walk away quickly to prevent his friends from seeing his abnormality.
Lia whispered softly in Hermione's ear: "His hand."
Hermione frowned and silently reached out, grabbing Harry's slightly trembling left hand which he had been hiding in his sleeve.
She could feel the cold sweat on his palm and the stiffness of his muscles.
Then, she pried open his clenched fist, finger by finger.
Fresh red, bone-deep wounds appeared hideously on the back of Harry's hand, forming a sentence—
[I must not tell lies]
Blood was seeping from the wounds, carrying an ominous black aura. The scent mixed with pain and humiliation made Lia's [Danger Intuition] scream.
Hermione gasped, a towering rage instantly igniting in her eyes.
Ron's face twisted with anger, his fists clenching until they cracked.
"She... she used... a Blood Quill..." Hermione's voice was trembling; this kind of Dark Arts item, only seen in forbidden books, had actually appeared at Hogwarts!
Lia looked at Harry's hand, her face devoid of any extra expression.
That memory of pain from being tortured in the past overlapped with the torment Harry was suffering now, igniting the flames deep within her soul.
She slowly turned around, facing the end of the corridor, toward Umbridge's office.
That sweet, rotting poisonous gas had become even thicker and more jubilant from feasting on Harry's pain and blood.
"See, this is the territory of the 'greatest' White Wizard, yet he allows such a lowly creature to strike at his own people."
Tom's voice rang in her head again.
"Against such people, mercy and reason are useless,"
Tom's voice rang out again, full of provocation. "Against such people, mercy and reason are useless. Only power and fear can make her learn her lesson! Blood for blood, an eye for an eye!"
Lia closed her eyes.
This time, she did not resist the dark whispers from deep within her soul.
"You possess my knowledge, Lia!"
Tom's voice suddenly became loud.
"You have felt unbearable pain; recall that agony, and then... return it!"
In her office, contentedly sipping black tea and admiring her masterpiece, Umbridge suddenly felt an inexplicable chill deep in her bones.
Immediately after, a sharp, knife-like pain suddenly shot through the back of her right hand as she held her teacup!
She raised her hand in horror; the plump back of her hand was as smooth as ever, without any wounds.
But the phantom pain of flesh being repeatedly carved by a sharp blade was so real it made her whole body tremble.
She felt as though a pair of cold, non-human eyes were watching her from some dark corner, like an apex predator that had locked onto its prey.
She instinctively looked back; the moonlight outside the window was bright, and there was no one there.
In the corridor, Lia slowly opened her eyes and turned back, her gaze falling on Hermione.
"Hermione," her voice was very soft, carrying a tremble she hadn't even noticed herself, "I just... let her taste it too. Something is wrong with me."
Under Lia's calm yet fragile gaze, Hermione's anger quickly subsided.
She looked at the faint, flickering dangerous green light in Lia's eyes, and her heart tightened.
When it came to Dark Arts, not only was Harry being hurt, but even Lia was being influenced.
Fortunately, her Cat-girl remembered to ask her for help even when on the edge of a violent rage.
Hermione reached out and soothingly rubbed Lia's head, gently pulling her into her arms.
"It's okay, Lia, you did the right thing." Hermione's voice was gentle and firm. "Whether it's Umbridge or Voldemort, I won't let them have their way."
Feeling Lia tremble slightly as her ears were being rubbed.
Hermione couldn't help but find it amusing.
"What kind of kitty would proactively confess after doing something bad!"
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