Struggling to survive at Hogwarts

Chapter 345 Covering Up

cramped.

This was Thea's first impression of the attic of the humble dwelling.

Although the walls, covered in old newspapers, showed that the cleaner had tried very hard to make the attic barely habitable, but…

"Ah chirp!"

Thea sneezed uncontrollably, her nose turned red, and even the area around her eyes became red. She unconsciously pulled the blanket around her even tighter.

Once inside the room, Thea truly experienced the cramped and confined space. A single bed already occupied most of the room's area, along with a bedside table and a row of newly nailed hooks on the wall—just a few items, which constituted all the furniture in the room.

Despite this, Thea stood by the bed, feeling that even turning around was difficult.

"This... how about we—"

Lupin noticed Thea's predicament, but considering the size of the room, he frowned and was about to speak up to help her out, but Thea interrupted him before he could finish speaking.

"This place is fine, it's good."

Lupin's expression froze, and even his eyes revealed a hint of disbelief.

But in the end, he didn't say anything more, just gave Thea a deep look before turning and leaving.

It wasn't until the door was closed that Thea discovered the source of the light in the room—a tiny window that Thea couldn't reach even if she jumped.

By the light of the moon, Thea groped her way into the thick quilt that smelled of sunlight and dust.

As her consciousness faded completely, a thought vaguely surfaced in Thea's mind:

"I swear on my honor that they have absolutely violated the Geneva Convention!"

Thea slept relatively soundly, if it weren't for the sounds of the door opening and closing downstairs and the deliberately hushed conversations.

"...Locked upstairs?"

"...Amazing...A hero emerges from among the young..."

"Dumbledore... has good taste..."

“...Traitor...retribution…”

The rustling whispers were nothing new to Thea; in fact, she had now cultivated such composure that she could even hilariously analyze the deeper meanings behind their tone.

When Ginny came in, this was the scene she saw: Thea was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing that cotton and linen dress, but her long hair was cleverly tied up, revealing a section of her fair neck.

Should I go down?

Thea asked the question so casually that Ginny lowered her head somewhat awkwardly.

"……Um……"

This surprised Thea, who glanced at Ginny with considerable astonishment. Was she really that timid?

Why is it different from what she remembered?

The idea briefly crossed Thea's mind before vanishing into nothingness.

She listened intently to the increasingly noticeable noises outside, and her expression gradually became serious.

"Let's go."

At Thea's subtle urging, Ginny swallowed the pleasantries she had prepared for so long and obediently led the way.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The joint trial was to be held in the living room on the first floor.

Besides the negotiating table, the original bookshelves and sofas were all moved away.

The empty room made all the sounds particularly clear. Thea glanced up at the second-floor corridor without leaving a trace, and sure enough, everyone was there.

Good morning, Thea.

Thea was greeted by Harry's lively greeting; he was noticeably more composed than he had been yesterday when he fled from Black's old house.

"Hello, Mr. Potter."

Unsure of Harry's approach, Thea could only go along with it and agree.

But somehow, one of the greetings touched Harry's sensitive heart, and Thea noticed that his expression darkened for a moment.

"Would you like a glass of hot milk? That would be breakfast."

Following Harry's sales pitch, Thea's gaze fell on the milk glass on the table.

She slowly picked up the glass of milk, but didn't drink it right away.

Seeing that Thea hadn't drunk the milk yet, Harry wasn't worried, but Hermione and Ron next to him couldn't help but clench their clothes.

"...Have you had breakfast yet?"

"……ah--"

In his tense state, Ron was taken aback when Thea asked him in a soothing tone, and he uttered a blank sound.

"We've already eaten."

Harry glanced at Ron, whose face was flushed, before answering Thea.

"Oh."

Thea got the answer, but instead of drinking it immediately, she looked directly at Harry again.

He has indeed become more composed and has learned to be cunning, but... he's not quite there yet.

Thea couldn't quite describe her feelings, but she silently drank the milk in her glass in one gulp, her movements surprisingly decisive.

Seeing that the other party had drunk every last drop of the "milk," the anxiety in the hearts of the three people present vanished, replaced by an unspeakable silence.

Did she really not recognize that it was truth serum?

What are the chances that they didn't recognize it?

She was a top student in Potions class who never received anything other than an "O"...

Could truth serum really fool her?

Therefore—it could only be voluntary on her part.

All the scheming, the darkness, the deception, were ultimately covered up by a fig leaf called "milk," along with all their unscrupulous means.

As Thea drank the "milk," the interrogation, exposed to most of the Order of the Phoenix members, officially began.

"...Could you tell me about the hours before you arrived at the Black mansion?"

The words were so sincere, it was as if they were old friends reminiscing, if only there hadn't been that truth serum.

"Hmm...it's very simple—"

Thea could clearly feel the truth serum taking effect. The feeling of her brain being covered by a thin veil was something Thea missed, but at the same time, her body instinctively resisted.

As a result, Thea now has to split her forces into two groups: one to suppress her physical instincts, and the other to let the thin veil cover her brain, eventually uttering truth after truth.

"After the engagement party, he used the excuse of preparing for the wedding to keep me confined to a small conference room—"

Unsurprisingly, Thea heard the sudden increase in breathing on the second floor and a few surprised words uttered. Even Harry's expression turned cold.

“A few days ago, he brought me several newspapers. When I saw those headlines, I knew that he had already decided on my guilt in his mind.”

Thea's tone gradually lowered, as if a child of nightmares was struggling to break free from fear and slowly recounting the nightmare.

Meeting the shocked yet deeply guilty gazes of Harry and his friends, Thea uttered the charge, word by word:

"He's convinced I'm the traitor who led the Order of the Phoenix into the old house—"

The room was deathly silent.