Evening, the most remote corner of the library.
Hermione slammed a stack of heavy ancient spellbooks onto the table with a "thud," dust dancing in the fading light streaming through the window.
She looked at Harry across from her, who could barely hold his wand steady, her brow furrowed into a tight knot.
"Harry, concentrate. The key to the Accio Charm is intent."
Her words were interrupted by an abrupt sound of footsteps.
An uncoordinated, eerie sound of footsteps drifted from the end of the corridor without warning.
"Clack... thud... clack... thud..."
One leg made the dull sound of flesh hitting the floor; the other was the staccato rhythm of a magical prosthetic striking the stone slabs.
Lia, who had been curled up on Hermione's lap, drowsy from the scent of parchment, had every hair of her white fur stand on end the moment that "thud" landed!
She suddenly sprang from Hermione's warm lap, her petite body stretching and lengthening in mid-air, landing silently as she transformed into human form.
She glared unpleasantly at the shadow where the sunlight couldn't reach.
A rotting stench, a mixture of rust and lies, wafted toward her!
It was exactly the same as the Dark Arts used to manipulate the goblet of fire at the Quidditch World Cup that day!
Only this time, the source was right before her eyes!
"Who's there?" Harry finally sensed something was wrong as well. He grabbed his wand and aimed it nervously at the darkness.
From the shadows, Alastor Moody emerged, limping and leaning on his peculiar staff.
His frantically spinning magical eye made a faint buzzing sound, his gaze sweeping back and forth over the three of them.
"Playing house in a place like this is hardly what a 'Champion' should be doing, Potter."
Moody's voice was coarse, eliciting not a shred of goodwill.
"We're preparing for the tournament, Professor."
Hermione stood up immediately and tried to pull Lia behind her, but Lia gently broke free from the movement.
"Preparing?"
Moody grinned, revealing a mouth full of teeth stained yellow by tobacco, his smile filled with blatant mockery.
"Miss Granger, there are some things that books can never teach you."
His magical eye suddenly locked onto Harry.
"Like how to avoid being burned to a crisp by the breath of a full-grown Hungarian Horntail."
Dragon!
"The First Task is Dragons."
Harry's face turned pale instantly.
Moody thoroughly enjoyed his fear, slamming his staff heavily onto the ground with a loud "thud."
"They want you dead, Potter. And yet, you're here wasting time with two little girls?"
Before he had finished speaking, Moody raised his wand without warning, pointing it directly at Harry!
An ominous glimmer began to coalesce at the tip of the gnarled wood.
"Let me 'give you some pointers' and see just what the Boy Who Lived is capable of!"
"Professor, stop!" Hermione screamed.
"Expelliarmus!"
A crisp, soft voice spoke, but the syllables it uttered were starkly cold.
Moody didn't even have time to react before his wand flew out of his hand, spinning toward Lia.
Just as it was about to reach her, she gave a light flick of her hand.
The wand was shattered into several pieces by sharp fingernails in mid-air and fell to the ground.
"You..." Moody's magical eye twitched frantically, an instinctive fear seizing him.
Lia looked up.
Her face was still that of a charming and cute girl, but her sky-blue eyes were filled with a bottomless indifference.
She looked at Moody, with no anger, no killing intent, only a condescending coldness.
"Get out."
Moody's body shuddered violently, a strange "gurgle" coming from his throat. In the end, he couldn't say a single word and could only turn away in embarrassment, limping off in a panicked retreat.
That suffocatingly cold aura receded from Lia.
"Hermione..."
She gave a long yawn, a physiological tear pricking the corner of her eye, her voice thick with nasality and exhaustion. "I'm so sleepy..."
The next second, she turned back into that familiar cat and skillfully burrowed into Hermione's warm embrace, finding a comfortable position to prepare for sleep.
Hermione, however, was stiff all over, not daring to move.
The sensation in her arms was a warm familiarity.
She looked down and saw the gold and red ribbon collar on Lia's neck, woven with Phoenix tail feather, which she had put on her with her own hands.
The pattern on the ribbon remained bright.
Hermione knew better than anyone what this meant.
Last time, in the dream, the collar had glowed of its own accord to resist Lord Voldemort's corruption.
But this time, the collar had no reaction.
This meant that everything just now... was Lia who had taken the initiative.
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