On the way back to The Burrow, inside the Ford Anglia that had been cast with an Undetectable Extension Charm, the atmosphere was so heavy it felt like water could be wrung out of it.
No one spoke.
The only sounds in the car were the monotonous roar of the engine and the heavy breathing in everyone's chest.
Fred and George had also put away their usual mischievous grins.
Ginny leaned against the car window, her eyes looking blankly at the darkness retreating rapidly outside.
Hermione sat in the corner of the back seat, the chaos of the World Cup campsite replaying in her mind over and over again.
The wild laughter of the Death Eaters, the green light of the dark mark, and Barty Crouch's face, which was filled with lies.
Lingering fear hit her sanity in waves, like a cold tide.
If Mr. Arthur hadn't arrived in time... if those officials had really taken Harry away... if she, Lia, and Ginny hadn't been found in the chaos... She felt Lia move slightly in her arms.
A furry cat paw with soft pads gently patted the back of her hand.
Hermione looked down and met a pair of clear blue eyes.
Lia had turned back into her cat form at some point and was looking up at her, eyes full of worry.
The next second, Lia took the initiative to stretch her head out and affectionately nuzzle Hermione's chin.
She didn't speak, but used this most direct and pure form of snuggling to comfort her silently.
Hermione turned her head, drawing from the warmth that could put her mind at ease.
She closed her eyes, her fingers unconsciously tightening as she pulled Lia's small body closer into her arms.
Just after returning to the residence, Ron, with tired eyes, blocked Hermione at the door.
His hands were in his pockets, his toes uncomfortably rubbing against the floor, and after hesitating for a long time, he squeezed a sentence out of his throat.
"Hermione, I'm sorry."
His voice was very small, carrying obvious frustration and shame.
"Just now... I was terrified. I didn't help at all, and I kept holding everyone back... like a useless fool."
Hermione looked at his flushed face and sincere eyes, and the bit of resentment she had accumulated due to the chaos dissipated quite a bit.
She shook her head, her tone much gentler than she had imagined.
"It's not your fault, Ron. The situation was too chaotic then, and we were all terrified. You and Harry protected Ginny, and that's enough."
Ron's shoulders slumped as he let out a long sigh of relief, shedding a heavy burden.
A simple apology and forgiveness allowed the atmosphere between the two friends to quietly mend.
Late at night, everyone had fallen asleep, and The Burrow was silent.
But Hermione was not sleepy at all.
She sat by the window, the moonlight spilling over her and illuminating the sleeping Lia in her arms.
Lia had changed back into her cat form, curled into a furry ball, letting out steady purrs.
Hermione gently stroked her soft back fur, but her fingertips could feel a lingering, abnormal coldness.
It was the feeling left behind after Lia's clothes were soaked last night; no matter how Hermione used her body heat to warm her, it couldn't be completely dispelled.
She thought of the moment Lia and Ginny were separated by the crowd, and her heart suddenly tightened.
She didn't dare think about what they had actually encountered during that time they were out of contact.
It shouldn't be anything... they were separated for less than ten minutes.
It should be impossible, right?
The last few days of the summer vacation passed in an oppressive calm.
The Ministry of Magic's final investigation results into the Quidditch World Cup riot were published on the front page of The Daily Prophet—a mentally deranged House-elf had stolen Harry Potter's magic wand and, out of longing for its old master, foolishly imitated and cast the dark mark.
An absurd ending full of loopholes, yet one that everyone was forced to accept.
Barty Crouch kept his reputation, the Ministry of Magic saved face, and the truth was buried in the tears of a House-elf.
The day before school started, Hermione took Lia and said goodbye to The Weasley Family at the Leaky Cauldron.
"Hermione, Lia, take good care of yourselves at school, and don't try to be heroes anymore."
Mrs. Molly hugged them tightly, her eyes red and her voice full of worry.
The experience at the World Cup had clearly terrified her; as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, she didn't fear those hateful Death Eaters, but what she always feared was something happening to the children.
Harry and Ron clumsily comforted Molly from the side.
Ginny took advantage of everyone not paying attention to secretly pull Lia over and tuck a small bag of candy tied with a pretty ribbon into Lia's hand.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was as busy as ever, the roar of the steam train mixing with the instructions of parents, filled with the sadness of parting and the anticipation of a new term.
Just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were preparing to move their luggage onto the train, an arrogant and cold voice rang out behind them, a voice like ice-tempered poison that made the surrounding noise fall silent for a moment.
"Look who it is, poor Weasley, the savior Potter, and... a mudblood and her pet of unknown origin."
The success of their faction's plan had made their arrogance and courage higher than ever before.
Draco Malfoy, as usual, brought two lackeys and blocked their way. But this time, an adult was standing beside him.
Lucius Malfoy.
He wore a pair of finely tailored black velvet robes, his platinum-blonde hair draped meticulously over his shoulders, and in his hand he held a magic wand walking stick inlaid with a silver snake head.
His gaze was identical to his son's arrogance, yet it held a few more degrees of adult sinister and danger.
"Draco, be polite to your classmates," Lucius spoke, his voice smooth but carrying heavy pressure.
His gaze lingered on Harry's face for a second, then swept over Ron's faded old robes, and finally landed on Hermione and Lia in her arms.
"Hogwarts' admission standards are truly low enough to be disgusting," he said nonchalantly, every word stinging like a needle.
"Mr. Weasley, I heard you caused quite a bit of trouble at the Ministry? Was it worth nearly losing your job for a few irrelevant people?"
Mr. Arthur walked over from the other side, his face darkening as he shielded the children behind him.
"Malfoy, mind your own business."
"Oh, I certainly will." Lucius gave a fake smile, his walking stick tapping the ground lightly with a crisp sound.
His gaze turned to Hermione, "Miss Granger, I heard you were quite 'active' at the World Cup. Some people just don't understand their place and like to involve themselves in things they shouldn't. Sometimes, curiosity and a senseless'sense of justice' can bring about disastrous consequences."
His words were full of naked threats.
In front of a pure-blood aristocrat and Death Eater suspect like Lucius Malfoy, her family background was her most fatal weakness.
At that moment, Lia, who had been staying quietly in Hermione's arms, suddenly moved.
She jumped down from Hermione's embrace and stood steadily on the ground.
She didn't transform, remaining that silver-white kitten that looked small and harmless.
But she raised her head, her pair of deep blue eyes staring directly at Lucius Malfoy.
In Lia's vision, beneath Lucius's elegant and noble skin, there surged a black magic representing 'malice, cruelty, and fear'.
That fear was faint, but it truly existed, and it seemed to be related to the dark mark.
Lia took two steps forward, standing in front of Hermione to confront the tall man.
Using a voice only the two in front of her could hear, she slowly opened her mouth and spat out a few syllables.
"S Get lost S!" (Parseltongue)
Lucius and Draco's expressions changed at the same time.
Because that whimper sounded... strangely similar to the precursor of a certain master they feared most in their memories before he became enraged.
Uncontrollable fear flooded their hearts, a feeling of being stared down by a natural predator.
"Let's go, Draco."
Lucius didn't stay any longer; his walking stick tapped heavily once, and he turned to lead his son through the crowd, disappearing at the other end of the platform.
The train let out a long whistle.
"Get on the train, quickly!" Mr. Arthur urged.
It wasn't until the train slowly started moving that Hermione's heartbeat settled down.
She pulled Lia back into her arms, looking at the platform retreating rapidly outside the window, as well as the figures of Mr. Arthur and Mrs. Molly waving goodbye, her heart filled with mixed emotions.
Had Tom's fragment started to affect her again just because she hadn't comforted Lia every day for one vacation?
The new school year was destined from the start not to be peaceful.
When they arrived at Hogwarts, night had already fallen.
Walking into the brightly lit Great Hall, everyone discovered that today's banquet was exceptionally sumptuous; the ceiling had been enchanted to become a night sky filled with brilliant stars, even more magnificent than usual. Wider aisles than before had also been left between the long tables of the Four Houses.
An unusual atmosphere of expectant excitement spread among the students.
"What's going on?" Ron asked curiously. "It looks like an end-of-term farewell feast."
"I don't know," Hermione shook her head, her gaze turning toward the Staff Table. "But Headmaster Dumbledore looks like he's in a very good mood."
After the Sorting Ceremony ended, Dumbledore stood up and walked to the Owl Lectern.
The Great Hall fell silent instantly, everyone's gaze focused on this legendary Wizard.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasant light behind his half-moon spectacles.
"I am very pleased to welcome you all back to Hogwarts to begin a new school year."
His voice was loud and clear, carrying to every corner of the Great Hall. "At the same time, I have an exciting piece of news to announce."
He paused, enjoying the students' bated-breath expressions.
"This year, at Hogwarts, we will be hosting a very special event. A legendary tournament that hasn't been held for centuries—"
Dumbledore spread his arms, his voice full of dramatic passion.
"The Triwizard Tournament!"
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