Lia ignored Sirius and Lupin, who were heatedly discussing tactics, as well as the nervous gazes of Harry and Ron.
After her eighth resurrection, these mortal emotions and conflicts had become distant and blurred in her eyes, as if separated by a thick curtain of water.
The essence of all things had transformed into clear Soul lines and flows of magic in her sight.
She leaned down and, with an extraordinary steadiness that belied her slender frame, picked up the still-unconscious Hermione in a bridal carry.
"Lia? What are you doing?" Harry asked in astonishment.
"I'm taking her to rest." Lia's voice was calm and flat, her sky-blue eyes devoid of any ripples.
Holding Hermione, she turned toward the door.
"Even though we're at Hogwarts," Lupin reminded her gently, "be careful of infiltrators from that side."
Lia stopped, glanced back at him, and the corner of her mouth curved into a very faint arc.
"There is no place safer than by my side."
Having said that, she ignored the others and carried Hermione out of the office.
In the corridor, students were panicking, running toward the Great Hall or secret passages.
A stream of people in different colored school robes rushed past her, filled with the constant sound of chaotic shouting.
Lia carried Hermione, walking through this turbulent flood of confusion.
She didn't walk fast, but every step was incredibly steady.
Anyone who rushed toward her was gently pushed away by an invisible, soft force when they came within half a meter.
She was like the eye of a storm—absolute stillness.
The two of them passed through the crumbling world toward their safe haven.
At the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room, the portrait of the fat lady had been removed, leaving a gaping hole.
Lia carried Hermione through the empty common room and up the spiral staircase leading to the Girls Dormitory.
She pushed open the familiar door and gently laid Hermione onto the four-poster bed covered in Gryffindor-red sheets.
The Castle's tremors vibrated through the floor, and the light of various spells flashed outside the window from time to time, casting shifting shadows across the room.
Lia sat quietly by the bed, watching Hermione.
Perhaps the external magical fluctuations were too intense, for Hermione's eyelashes fluttered a few times before she slowly opened her eyes.
Her gaze was dazed at first, her brown eyes reflecting Lia's sky-blue pupils.
"Lia..."
Her voice was hoarse and dry, and her head throbbed with a splitting pain.
Fragments of memory rushed in like a flood breaking through a dam.
She had a faint awareness of everything at Grimmauld Place, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't open her eyes.
"I..." Hermione struggled to sit up, but her strength seemed entirely drained. "What happened? Where's Dumbledore? You..."
She grabbed Lia's hand; her fingertips were as cold as icy iron.
Lia held her hand back. Her warm, dry palm offered a reassuring temperature, making Hermione's coldness feel even more bone-chilling.
"Your magic was overextended, and you lost consciousness," Lia said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm as she recounted the night's events word for word.
"Lord Voldemort came. He used me as bait to lure Dumbledore out."
"Dumbledore used the last of his strength to teleport us away."
"He died under Lord Voldemort's Killing Curse."
Lia's tone had no ups or downs; every word was like a cold stone sinking into the dead silence of Hermione's heart.
Hermione was more concerned about something else.
"You... then you..." She looked at the unharmed Lia, her voice trembling violently with fear.
"Yes," Lia interrupted, looking straight at her. Her sky-blue pupils held no emotion, yet they reflected all of Hermione's current panic. "I died."
"This is my eighth life."
"There is only... one left."
The last... one.
Those words were like a bolt of black lightning, instantly shattering Hermione's sanity.
Her head buzzed, and all the sounds in the world vanished, leaving only the thunderous pounding of her own heart.
She only had one life left. The next time would be forever.
No.
Absolutely not.
She couldn't lose Lia.
She couldn't let Lia die.
Absolutely not!
Hermione's eyes began to scan the room frantically, like a drowning person searching for a final straw.
Her gaze finally fell on the nightstand, where one of her old books lay. A frayed, deep-Red ribbon was being used as a bookmark. It was her favorite color.
As if bewitched by some primal urge, she stumbled out of bed, almost lunging at the nightstand, and pulled out the ribbon with trembling hands.
She turned around and walked back to the bed step by step, toward the calm Lia, who seemed not to understand her behavior at all.
Hermione knelt on the bed without a word, her eyes bloodshot and filled with a mixture of madness and despair.
She grabbed Lia's slender ankle. The skin there was fair and delicate, still warm—proof that she was still alive.
She used that Red ribbon, wrapping it around Lia's ankle again and again.
Then, she slowly tied the other end of the ribbon to the heavy bedpost behind her, which was carved with a Griffin pattern.
She tied a dead knot.
And another.
As if using all her strength to lock Lia here forever, to lock her in her world.
Throughout the process, Lia did not resist, nor did she even move.
She just sat quietly, lowering her eyes to look at Hermione.
In her vision, Hermione's soul was burning—a golden flame mixed with love and despair.
This fragile ribbon, under Hermione's frantic will, was unconsciously tied around Lia's ankle.
When the final knot was finished, Hermione looked up, her bloodshot brown eyes filled with endless emptiness and brokenness.
She reached out and neurotically stroked Lia's cheeks and neck, confirming she was still here, confirming she was still warm.
The Castle's Defensive enchantments, strengthened by the combined efforts of Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, made the entire room shake.
But none of this could reach Hermione's ears.
In her world, there was only Lia, whom she had personally tied to the bedpost, and that Red ribbon—representing all her fear, ridiculous yet tragic.
The Castle's tremors gradually subsided as Hogwarts' ancient protective magic temporarily held off the first wave of the assault.
Inside the room, only the crackling of the fire in the fireplace and the intertwined breathing of the two remained.
Hermione's heavily heaving chest slowly steadied. The madness and fear that had swept over her receded like a tide, and the coldness of logic reoccupied her mind.
She looked at the Red ribbon tied around Lia's ankle and the dead knot she had tied with all her might, and a sense of powerless absurdity welled up in her heart.
"I know..." Hermione's voice was hoarse. She looked up, staring directly into Lia's clear, sky-blue eyes. "I know this can't hold you."
To Lia, who could tear apart magic and consume curses with her bare hands, a ribbon was more fragile than a spider's web.
She could break free in an instant if she wanted to.
This was merely a gesture.
The most helpless and selfish gesture Hermione could make.
Lia looked at her, her eyes still holding that transcendent calm, but filled with indulgence.
She could see that the red "tether" was extending from Hermione's burning soul, firmly locking onto her.
"I know," Lia replied, her voice soft, as if carrying a soothing power.
"Then don't leave," Hermione pleaded with every word. "I will fight hard in the battle outside. Don't go out until the gates are breached."
Lia gazed at her, and finally, a ripple of tenderness appeared in those eyes that were as indifferent as a god's.
"Okay," she nodded without hesitation.
But only she knew that her current power allowed her to launch long-range strikes from this room directly into the Forbidden Forest.
I can strike from the room all the way to the school gates.
That shouldn't count as breaking our promise... right?
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