The voice of the prophecy dissipated in the deathly silence of the woods, and the Centaurs retreated silently into the deeper parts of the forest like a tide merging into the shadows.
Lia stood alone on the spot. After a long time, she forcefully swallowed the last mouthful of roots that tasted of earthy musk; the coarse texture scraped against her throat, yet it was not even a ten-thousandth of the pain of her soul being scorched.
She did not return to Hogwarts.
She did not dare to.
That word had been spoken by her own mouth.
That hatred and contempt for all things in the world, originating from Tom Riddle, had pierced straight into Hermione's heart through her eyes like the most vicious curse.
Regardless of whether it was her intention, the harm had already been done.
She could not imagine, and did not even dare to think, what kind of look Hermione would give her.
Disappointment? Anger? Or... the same cold, disgusted look she had at that moment?
At the thought of that possibility, Lia's soul curled up in pain.
She began to wander in the Forbidden Forest, completely returning to the life of a wild beast.
She lived like a true beast.
By day, she curled up in the densest canopies, wrapping herself in layers of interlaced branches and leaves, falling into a deep sleep in the isolated darkness.
By night, she turned into a streak of white lightning, running on all fours through the tangled woods, as agile as a specter born of this place.
She began to relearn how to hunt, in the most primitive and cruelest of ways.
Sharp claws tore open the throats of her prey, and warm blood splashed onto her snow-white face, yet she felt not a single spark of a predator's pleasure, only a numbness that reached her marrow.
She was simply hungry and needed to eat, nothing more.
She no longer spoke, and rarely even maintained the human form that would remind her of Hermione.
Her cat form gave her a greater sense of security, allowing her to curl into a ball and pretend she was just an ordinary beast with no worries other than survival.
But she was not.
Whenever the moonlight spilled through the gaps in the leaves, she could not help but think of Hermione's room.
She thought of the warm firelight in the fireplace, the gentle touch of Hermione's fingertips when she stroked her chin, and Hermione's focused profile when she read.
Then, that damned word would be like a maggot in her bones, scorching her soul once again.
She began to actively seek out danger.
She frantically provoked the Acromantula nests, fighting her way in and out under the siege of hundreds of spiders.
She allowed fangs and pincers to leave wounds deep enough to see bone, using the intense pain of the healing process to suppress the never-ending burning deep within her soul.
She intruded into the territory of the Unicorns; those purest of creatures sensed the lingering aura of darkness and blood upon her and let out mournful cries, fleeing from her in terror as if she were a walking plague.
She completely transformed into a ghost that made every creature in the Forbidden Forest tremble.
Firenze would occasionally appear before her, bringing herbs that could steady the mind or speaking a few obscure astrological prophecies.
He never urged her to go back, nor did he ever judge her behavior.
He was like a silent observer, only using the wisdom of the stars to nudge her back onto the path when she was about to be completely consumed by the dark power within her, preventing her from falling entirely into the abyss.
In an accidental conversation, she learned that Firenze had noticed her many years ago; he told Lia that creatures born pure would receive Nature's Blessing.
Specifically, in those early years when Lia was mysteriously born in the forest and didn't know how to hunt yet, elderly animals nearing death would proactively come to her and wait to die.
Often, Lia would wake up to find the carcass of a recently deceased animal at the base of the tree in front of her.
"Nature is your true mother; rest and recover in the forest with peace of mind."
That was what Firenze told Lia.
Returning to a life in the wild made it easy to lose track of time.
She didn't consciously count the days, only vaguely remembering the moon waning and waxing, waxing and waning.
Fortunately, this period of living like the walking dead did not last too long.
During a hunt, Lia was chasing a rabbit that had exhausted its strength.
Just as she was about to pounce, she saw her own reflection in the rabbit's red eyes, which were dilated with extreme terror.
A white beast covered in mud and dried blood, with eyes cold and hollow, filled with a violent aura.
Her movements stopped.
The rabbit scrambled and fled into the bushes.
Lia remained in her cat form, sitting blankly on the spot.
Who am I?
She thought of Hermione.
Would Hermione like the way she looked now?
The answer was no.
Hermione liked the clean, fluffy Lia; she liked the Lia who would act spoiled and purr; she liked the Lia who would wrap her tail around her and rub against her cheek.
Not this dirty, violent, devilish creature before her, who felt like a stranger even to herself.
She had to go back.
No, she couldn't just go back like this.
She hadn't yet figured out how to face Hermione, or how to earn her forgiveness.
However, at that moment, an inexplicable urge arose—an extremely weak but persistent warning from her Danger Intuition.
Like an invisible thread, it pulled her, pointing toward a distant direction outside the Forbidden Forest.
There, she sensed Hermione's presence.
It was very, very faint, like a candle in the wind, flickering and uncertain.
She left the Forbidden Forest.
Like a white shadow, she moved silently through Hogsmeade Village and along the railway tracks, heading all the way south.
She entered the human city.
London.
Towering buildings blocked out the sky, the roar of cars replaced the sound of the wind in the trees, and the pungent exhaust fumes mixed with the scents of countless strangers, pushing her senses to the brink of collapse.
She became a stray cat once again.
By day, she hid in dark, damp corners, avoiding the hurried footsteps of humans and the steel-wrought vehicles.
By night, she scavenged for food in foul-smelling trash cans and drank rainwater from dirty puddles.
She saw a girl who, like Hermione, had bushy brown hair; she was holding an orange cat, affectionately rubbing her face against the cat's head while letting out a doting laugh.
Lia hid around the corner, her tail drooping unconsciously.
She, too, had once been held like that.
She saw a man hurrying out of a bookstore, clutching a thick stack of books in his arms, just like Hermione every time she left the library.
A suppressed whimper escaped Lia's throat.
She missed Hermione so much.
She missed her hugs, her voice, and the scent of her—that mixture of parchment, ink, and her own unique fragrance, the best smell in the entire world.
That longing hurt more than any wound she had received in the Forbidden Forest.
"Hermione..." She curled up in the cold alleyway, murmuring that name over and over in a voice only she could hear.
"I'm sorry."
"I said things I shouldn't have said."
The rain began to fall, and the cold water soaked her snow-white fur, clinging to her icy skin and making her look utterly wretched.
She closed her eyes, letting the cold and hunger consume her.
Perhaps dying once again would be a form of release.
How many times had she died now?
Lia could no longer remember.
Forget it, let this life be her atonement.
[I heard from the Marketing Accounts that after Snape, Voldemort has also turned dark! I really want to see what the new version is like!]
[Darlings, if you've read this far, please give me a nudge to update for some motivation!]
[I'm begging you, meow!]
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