The moment that poisonous voice sank into her brow, the world in Lia's eyes faded and lost its sound.
All sound and color were instantly stripped away; Harry and Ron's terrified faces as they rushed from the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets turned into a black-and-white silent film.
"Lia!"
Harry's voice was as unreal as a distant echo.
He watched in horror as Lia lay in a pool of Basilisk blood on the floor, convulsing wildly; from the wound on her shoulder, dark purple poisonous blood sprayed out like a high-pressure water gun!
It only stopped after a dozen or so seconds.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look and rushed forward.
Ignoring the massive serpent corpse, Harry hoisted Lia onto his back while Ron took Ginny, and they ran toward the Hospital Wing. Consciousness, like a stone sinking into an icy sea, was forcibly pulled back to the surface by a sharp, stabbing pain.
Pain.
It wasn't the burning pain of Basilisk venom corroding flesh, nor was it the agonizing pain of bones being shattered and reconstructed.
Since she had swallowed Lord Voldemort's soul last time, this Riddle seemed to have been eaten as well.
Lia felt herself being carried on someone's back, jolting through the slippery pipes. In her ears were Harry and Ron's anxious shouts, but those sounds were as distant as if through a layer of water.
The only thing clear was the sensation of a cold nail being driven into her soul, deep within her brow.
That fragment of soul from Tom Riddle was like a coordinate steeped in malice, flickering with eternal ill intent in the deepest part of her soul.
"...Caught you."
That voice was inescapable.
A burst of warm song and a wave of heat allowed her to briefly regain clarity. It was Fawkes. But this bit of warmth was soon replaced by the cold air of the Hospital Wing.
She was carefully placed on a bed.
"She killed the Basilisk... but she's been poisoned..." Harry's voice was breathless.
"Heavens, this toxin..." Madam Pomfrey exclaimed.
Lia's eyelids were as heavy as lead, but the [Eye of Truth] had already activated uncontrollably.
The world completely decomposed in her field of vision.
Harry and Ron were two clumps of warm red magic; Professor McGonagall was a blue network as precise as a star map. And not far away, a cauldron of potion brought by Professor Sprout was emitting a thick, vibrant green light of life.
The antidote.
But that wasn't the point.
Lia's gaze bypassed everyone and locked onto another hospital bed.
There lay a clump of golden light she was incredibly familiar with, which should have been as brilliant as the sun.
But now, that light was dim and shattered, its edges still haunted by the gray, decaying petrification magic left by the Basilisk.
Hermione's soul was like a smashed piece of art.
"Give it to Ginny Weasley first," Madam Pomfrey's decisive voice rang out. "Her life force has been drained; she's in the most danger."
She turned to take the first bottled portion of the antidote.
At that very moment.
A white shadow flashed past from the hospital bed!
"Lia!" Harry cried out.
Everyone present—Harry, Ron, McGonagall, and Pomfrey—only saw the Cat-girl who had just been judged to be "in critical condition,"
snatch the still-warm bottle of antidote from Madam Pomfrey's hand with a speed inconsistent with her heavily injured state.
There wasn't the slightest hesitation in her movements; her objective was frighteningly clear.
She wasn't seeking medicine; she was hunting.
Lia ignored everyone's shock and, barefoot on the cold floor, walked step by step toward that bed.
She held the small medicine bottle as if she were cradling fire stolen from the gods.
All the magic lines in the world were in her eyes, but she could only see that one—the only path to redemption connecting the green light of life from the antidote and the golden light of Hermione's broken soul.
She reached the bedside and, under Professor McGonagall's shaken gaze, slowly knelt on the edge of the bed.
Her left hand carefully reached behind Hermione's neck, gently propping up her head.
Her right hand unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle's mouth to Hermione's tightly closed lips.
The potion was viscous, emitting an aroma of earth and green grass.
Lia was incredibly focused, feeding the potion in drop by drop, with great care.
A drop of emerald-green liquid slid down the corner of Hermione's pale mouth.
Lia's pupils constricted.
Almost out of instinct, she leaned down, extended her pink tongue, and gently licked away the drop of liquid from Hermione's skin. Then she pressed her lips to Hermione's again, passing the liquid through.
It couldn't be wasted.
Not a single bit could be wasted.
This action, filled with primal possessiveness and devotion, plunged the entire Hospital Wing into a dead silence.
One bottle of antidote, not a drop more or less.
Having finished all this, Lia felt as if her strength had been drained, yet she continued to stare intently at Hermione's face, even forgetting to breathe.
Time froze at this moment.
Finally, those long, thick eyelashes trembled slightly.
Lia's azure eyes instantly widened.
Hermione slowly opened her eyes.
Those intelligent brown eyes were still a bit unfocused after experiencing the long darkness. But when they focused on Lia's face—which was so close and filled with ecstasy and unease—they instantly condensed into the sharpest light.
"Lia..."
The first word she spoke upon waking was her name. Her voice was as raspy as sandpaper.
Lia's cat ears twitched happily; she was just about to let out a soft whimper and throw herself into her arms to seek praise.
But Hermione's next sentence was like a bucket of ice water poured over her head.
She didn't celebrate her own survival; she didn't even have a hint of a smile. She reached out with a still somewhat stiff hand, but it wasn't to caress Lia's face.
Her gaze, like the sharpest scalpel, fell upon Lia's tattered Gryffindor uniform, which was stained with dark red Basilisk blood.
As well as her shoulder, which had been pierced by a Basilisk fang and left a hideous new scar even under [Super-speed Regeneration].
Hermione's expression changed.
The joy of reunion vanished completely, replaced by all the helplessness, fear, and frantic worry from her time being petrified.
At this moment, it all fermented and compressed, finally condensing into... a cold, extreme anger.
"You went to the Chamber of Secrets alone."
Lia's body stiffened; her tail, which was about to perk up, instantly drooped, and her cat ears flattened dejectedly against her head.
"Didn't I teach you?" Hermione's voice suddenly rose, and she began to cough violently from agitation. "If you encounter danger, go to a Professor first!"
She struggled to sit up and grab the disobedient idiot in front of her; her physical depletion made even raising her arms incredibly difficult.
Tears rolled down from her angry eyes without warning.
She looked at Lia's aggrieved expression, like someone who had done something wrong, and at the marks on her body that proved just how tragic the battle had been; her heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a hand, both aching and furious.
She knew Lia did it for her.
And because of that, it was unforgivable.
Hermione held Lia, yet she was so weak and powerless.
Finally, the angry interrogation turned into a sob-filled low growl.
"You... incurable fool!"
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