As Lord Voldemort's words fell, Lia's heart gave a violent lurch.
An agonizing pain, as if the deepest bond of her soul were being torn apart.
That invisible thread connecting her to Hermione was being brutally, icily seized by a malevolent force!
Hermione!
The icy facade on Lia's face shattered instantly, replaced by utter panic.
Forgetting her standoff with Lord Voldemort, her body turned into a white blur as she frantically charged towards the second-floor bedroom!
The corridor seemed to stretch into infinity at this moment.
The stairs became unreachably distant.
Lord Voldemort stood where he was, unmoving, not even bothering to look at her.
He merely raised his hand, admiring his own pale, slender fingers, a cat-and-mouse pleasure on his face.
"Bang—!"
The bedroom door was slammed open by Lia's shoulder.
The room was empty.
The covers were thrown back, the bed was in disarray, and near the window, a few shards of glass littered the floor.
Night wind poured in through the shattered window, making the curtains dance wildly, as if mourning for someone.
By the window stood a Death Eater Lia recognized.
Amycus Carrow.
A savage, triumphant smile was plastered on his fat face.
And beside him, Hermione floated silently in mid-air.
She was still in her pajamas, her thick, brown curls disheveled, her eyes tightly shut, her face deathly pale.
A wand glowing with an ominous light was pressed firmly against her neck.
Lia's footsteps came to an abrupt halt, one step away from the doorway.
All her strength, all her speed, all her killing intent—upon seeing Hermione, were locked away inside her by an invisible, massive lock.
"Look who it is," Carrow said in a nauseating tone, "a little stray kitten who ran away and came crawling back."
"Don't be so agitated, little one," Lord Voldemort's voice drifted eerily from behind Lia. He slowly ascended the stairs, each step feeling like it trod on Lia's heart.
"I admit, your power is... peculiar. Immune to the Killing Curse, able to devour souls... even capable of easily killing my incompetent followers. But your greatest weakness is far too obvious."
He walked up beside Lia, his crimson serpentine eyes looking past her at Hermione, held hostage in the room, as if she were an insignificant object.
"Your weakness is now in my grasp."
As he spoke, from the shadows, one by one, Death Eaters in black robes and pallid masks materialized, completely blocking the narrow corridor.
Their wands rose in unison, tips gleaming with malicious light of various colors, all aimed at Lia.
Lia didn't move.
Her body was as stiff as stone.
Her [Danger Intuition] was already screaming.
She could feel the magic coiled around every wand pointed at her, enough to tear her to pieces.
But she couldn't move.
She didn't even dare to show the slightest hint of aggressive intent.
Because Carrow's wand pressed against Hermione's neck was like a Sword of Damocles hanging over her own soul, ready to fall at any moment.
"The Master said," Carrow sneered, tracing a faint red line on Hermione's smooth neck with his wand tip, "if you so much as twitch, I'll make this mudblood's head explode like a ripe pumpkin."
Lia's pupils contracted to pinpricks.
A murderous intent, older and more savage than Lord Voldemort's, surged up violently.
Her slender fingers began to change uncontrollably, nails elongating, turning pitch-black, gleaming with a terrifying light.
"Oh?" Lord Voldemort watched her transformation with interest. "Losing control? Let me see what that 'ancient power' Lupin spoke of really is."
He seemed eager to see Lia go berserk.
However, Lia ultimately forced down that impulse.
Looking at Hermione's pale face, those black claws slowly retracted.
She couldn't gamble.
She couldn't gamble with Hermione's life.
"Good," Lord Voldemort said, sounding somewhat disappointed. He waved a hand, as if directing a boring play. "Begin. Let her witness the consequences of defying me."
As his words fell.
The first curse shot from a Death Eater's wand tip.
It was a Crucio.
A crimson flash of light streaked through the narrow corridor.
Lia didn't dodge.
She didn't even assume a defensive posture.
She simply stood there quietly, her sky-blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on the captive Hermione, as if trying to etch her image into her very soul.
"Thud—!"
The curse struck her chest squarely.
Lia didn't make a sound.
Her body only trembled violently once, then she straightened up again.
"Interesting," Lord Voldemort let out a light chuckle. "It seems the Cruciatus Curse isn't very effective on you. Let's try something else."
"Sectumsempra!"
"Reducto!"
"Imperio!"
In an instant, dozens of different curses, of various kinds and colors, surged towards Lia like a bursting dam, engulfing her from all sides!
The torrent of curses completely submerged Lia.
Sectumsempra carved deep, bone-exposing wounds into her pale skin, blood instantly staining her thin clothes.
The impact of Reducto slammed her against the wall again and again, only for her to slide down, the crisp sounds of breaking bones piercingly loud in the silent corridor.
All sorts of dark spells tore at her body, eroded her magic, crushed her soul.
Relying on her incredible resistance and recovery, Lia never fell.
She was like a small tree rooted on a cliff, stubbornly standing despite the relentless storm.
Her [Super-speed Regeneration] ability was operating frantically, newly formed flesh and skin waging a brutal tug-of-war with the splitting wounds.
Shattered bones forcibly reconnected with grating sounds, only to be shattered again by the next curse.
She didn't feel the pain.
Or rather, the physical agony was numbed by another, deeper despair.
Her eyes, from beginning to end, never left the unconscious girl floating in mid-air.
Using the force of the spells constantly blasting her, Lia gradually closed the distance between herself and Hermione.
Just a few more impact-heavy curses, and she would have a good chance of saving Hermione before any curse could hit her.
Under the cover of blood and grime, she focused all her energy on healing her wounds.
No one present noticed Lia's subtle maneuvering.
"Truly tenacious vitality," Lord Voldemort stood outside the fray, observing like a cold scholar watching a dying lab rat.
He could feel Lia's life energy draining at an alarming rate. [Super-speed Regeneration] was not without cost; healing had its limits.
He was growing impatient.
This kind of simple physical destruction was too crude, too dull.
What he wanted to see was more... breakdown.
"Stop."
He raised his hand, and all the Death Eaters immediately ceased casting.
In the corridor, only Lia's ragged panting and the *drip-drip* of blood hitting the floor remained.
She was drenched in blood, barely recognizable, only able to stand leaning against the wall, but those sky-blue eyes were still startlingly bright.
"Let's try a different game," Lord Voldemort's voice carried a hint of cruel amusement as he pointed his wand at Hermione.
"Tell me," he hissed in Parseltongue, "what would you do if I used the Cruciatus Curse on her, bit by bit, making her scream in the most agonizing pain right before your eyes?"
Lia's pupils contracted violently, in that instant, all light drained from them.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
A chill more terrifying than death itself shot from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head.
She could face any enemy, but she could not bear to see Hermione harmed in the slightest.
Just a few more steps... just a few more steps and she could have been sure to save Hermione perfectly, without them reacting at all... "Don't you dare..."
She gritted her teeth and forced out the words, her voice broken, hoarse, and blood-flecked, yet filled with ferocity.
"I will kill you! I absolutely will!"
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