The Great Hall of Hogwarts was magnificent, the magical sky on the ceiling reflecting the bright stars.
But this year's atmosphere was exceptionally oppressive, as if even the light of the candles was swallowed by an invisible haze, so sticky it made one feel suffocated.
The students' conversations were kept very low, whispering about the pink figure at the staff table.
Dolores Umbridge sat there conspicuously, like a ripe peach about to fester, surveying the entire Great Hall with her cloyingly sweet smile; wherever her gaze landed, even the air became thick.
Lia sat between Hermione and Ginny, taking small bites of the steak Hermione had carefully cut for her.
Even with delicious food in front of her, that "sweet poison" scent—a mix of rotting nectar and stale rules—still stubbornly irritated her keen sense of smell, making her stomach churn and her appetite vanish.
In Lia's [Eye of Truth], the dark pink thorny magic spreading from Umbridge was no longer just a probe like on the train.
They were like living poisonous vines, silently growing and spreading along the ancient cracks in the walls, ceiling, and floor, intending to weave the entire Great Hall into a pink cage full of poisonous thorns.
The Sorting Ceremony ended, and Dumbledore stood up, his azure eyes filled with his usual gentleness.
"Welcome, everyone..."
"Hem, hem."
A delicate, affected, and gratingly deliberate cough interrupted him.
Umbridge stood up with a smile, acting as leisurely as if she were taking a stroll on her own property; interrupting the Principal's speech was a perfectly normal thing for her.
"Thank you, Principal," her voice spread clearly through the Great Hall via magic, her sweet tone carrying an unquestionable authority. "The Ministry of Magic has always believed that progress in education stems from the continuous reform of outdated customs."
She began to deliver that carefully designed yet hollow and tedious speech, Claiming to abolish dangerous practices,Prioritize theoretical knowledge.
"We will usher in a new era of peace, order, and strict discipline. Thank you."
Having finished, she sat down gracefully, leaving the entire hall in a suffocating silence.
Dumbledore stood up again, his silvery-white beard twitching slightly, but his expression showed no sign of emotion.
"Thank you, Professor Umbridge, that was... most illuminating."
His gaze swept across the hall, finally lingering on Harry for a moment, his eyes deep.
"As I warned last year, we are facing dark and difficult times. Death Eater activity is becoming increasingly rampant, we must..."
"Hem, hem."
That annoying cough, enough to scratch one's eardrums, rang out again.
But this time, before Dumbledore could use magic to raise his voice, Lia, sitting at the Gryffindor table, turned toward Umbridge and let out a hissing breath.
"Haa—"
A faint breathy sound, barely audible amidst the background noise.
However, on the level of magic, this soft sound caused a massive uproar.
Lia condensed the magic usage she had learned from Tom into an invisible ice needle. Following the trajectory of that sound wave, a precision-guided miniature spell crossed the entire Great Hall and pierced Umbridge's throat just as she was preparing to speak.
Umbridge, about to cough for the third time, suddenly felt as if a large chunk of winter ice had been stuffed into her throat. Her delicate, affected voice caught halfway, abruptly turning into a bizarre, unpleasant "croak," like a toad being strangled.
Her face instantly turned the color of a pig's liver. She clutched her throat, her eyes bulging in horror as she frantically scanned her surroundings, but she couldn't find the source of the attack at all.
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