Lys stared at the bones she had transformed, now unrecognizable, gleaming with a dazzling brilliance. Inspiration struck her like lightning. Unable to resist, she pulled out several arm bones and began her research anew.
A wizard's magic was like flowing water—its source unknown, its end unseen. It diverged when encountering protrusions, surged when encountering depressions, and filled every crevice it touched.
The alchemical materials on the surface of the bones should work similarly. The fractured surfaces of the bones were riddled with grooves and holes, perfect for experimentation.
The shattered arm bone beside her confirmed her hypothesis. Some fragments were too small to be reassembled, so why not discard the unusable pieces and let the magical patterns fill the gaps with alchemical materials?
Feeling she had solved a major problem, Lys exhaled deeply and decided to take a rare break. She headed to the observatory for some fresh air.
Originally, Lys disliked the observatory—it was cold, windy, and offered an unobstructed view of the moon, which she despised. But now, with goals to chase and progress to celebrate, she found the observatory oddly appealing.
As for the moon, well, she would deal with that problem eventually, wouldn't she?
Calming her recent agitation, Lys left the observatory and made her way back to her dormitory to continue her research on magical patterns and alchemy.
Lys never imagined that her reclusive lifestyle and irregular meal habits would lead to trouble simply because she wasn't often seen or recognized.
After her Care of Magical Creatures class, Lys planned to check on the Manticore's condition. Trudging through the snow and braving the wind already dampened her mood, and being stopped by a group of upper-year Gryffindors only made it worse.
The boys staggered as they walked, striking exaggerated poses as if to say, "Look how handsome I am!" They rubbed their hands together and licked their lips, blocking Lys—a Slytherin—with the apparent intention of impressing the girls nearby with their bravado.
Gabon, her snake companion, slithered into her lizard-skin pouch, inadvertently concealing Lys's reputation as the Slytherin snake-handler and a formidable fighter.
Lys ignored them entirely and continued toward her destination.
One of the boys, angered by her indifference, ignored the girls' attempts to stop him and began hurling insults at Lys, cursing her mother for giving birth to an "evil Slytherin." Lys raised her wand and summoned a swirling torrent of water above his head.
Facing multiple wands pointed at her, Lys remained unfazed. She swiftly cast Protego and reinforced herself with defensive spells before grabbing the nearly suffocated boy and delivering a relentless beating—with her fists.
When the emblem of her Protego charm began to shatter, Lys wiped away the blood trickling from her mouth, a result of the spell's impact, and continued to focus solely on the boy.
As he neared suffocation, Lys dispelled the water spell, grabbed his collar, and punched him squarely in the nose. She renewed her protective magic and threw him to the ground.
Summoning dark mist to obscure the vision of the others, Lys resumed kicking the boy.
Trouble? Fine, trouble is normal. But insulting my mother? Unacceptable!
Reflecting on her previous encounter with Thomas, where she had gone too easy on him, Lys resolved not to repeat the mistake. She deflected an Expelliarmus directed at her and turned her attention to the girl who had broken free from the mist. Two silent spells, cast with shaky precision, tripped the girl and sent her wand flying.
Afterward, Lys cast a warming charm on the girl lying in the snow.
"You attack me, I retaliate. But calling that boy brainless? That deserves support," Lys muttered before delivering another hard kick to the boy on the ground.
Teaching them a lesson so they wouldn't dare cause trouble again seemed sufficient.
"Go ahead, report me to Professor McGonagall. Tell her Stalys Black beat you up. Ha!" Lys scoffed, spitting out the blood in her mouth and sneering at the groaning boy on the ground. She glanced at the other frightened boys, her disdain evident.
"If you're looking for friends, you should choose better ones. These guys are hopeless," she said to the two girls before adjusting her cloak and walking away.
What a joke. If she remembered correctly, that boy was a seventh-year student. How could he be so slow at casting a defensive spell?
Moreover, the only effective attacks had come from the two girls. The remaining boys seemed to wield fake wands, unable to even break her Protego charm.
Professor McGonagall would surely be furious again, lamenting the incompetence of her students. Using Incendio without considering wind direction? Truly incomprehensible.
And that wand grip—was it supposed to be impressive? More like delicate. Without Expelliarmus, he could barely hold his wand steady.
Spotting Hagrid's cabin with the door ajar, Lys knocked and entered.
She sat on Hagrid's couch, letting Gabon out to play. Rubbing her sore side, Lys noted the girl's fierce attack—though her spellcasting was too slow, overly focused on clear enunciation.
Clearly inexperienced in real combat.
Running her hand through her hair, Lys reminded herself to control her emotions. If a professor came looking to discipline her, it would only waste her study time.
Hagrid wasn't in the cabin, but the fire was lit and the door unlocked. Lys guessed he would return soon. She sat upright on the couch and stared into space.
Her thoughts wandered to Professor Snape, who seemed to be aligned with Malfoy, a servant of the Dark Lord. Then she wondered whether Narcissa had completed her marriage with Malfoy.
Eventually, Hagrid returned, advising Lys not to check on the Manticore. Since its recovery, it had been running wild, and he hadn't been able to find it.
He handed Lys a box, urging her to take it. Inside were some peculiar materials. He mumbled about how much he loved the oversized wool hat Lys had given him and hinted at wanting more of that special jerky.
But Lys had no time to make jerky now. Staying up late to read left her little spare time. She taught Hagrid the method and told him to make it himself.
After rummaging through the box, Lys took about half of the materials and promised Hagrid that if her experiments yielded results instead of waste, she would bring him something. Then she left without ceremony.
Recently, it seemed Hagrid's success with the Manticore had earned him some fame. Injured or poisoned magical creatures were frequently brought to him. Lys treated those she could; the rest were beyond her ability.
Some grateful wizards who retrieved their pets alive even sent her gifts—usually odd materials or peculiar items. Lys's recent expenses and experimental supplies had largely come from these sources.
Returning to the Slytherin common room, she was greeted by its familiar oppressive atmosphere. Though the fires of war couldn't reach Hogwarts, protected by the world's most powerful white wizard, the Slytherins, accustomed to caution and foresight, couldn't adopt the carefree attitude of the Gryffindors.
They exchanged every piece of useful information—for safety, for the honor of pure-blood lineage, or for greater interests.
They knew their paths after graduation led to the battlefield. Whether by choice or family obligation, the dazzling rewards promised by their futures inevitably carried the shadow of death.
Maintained decorum kept this pressure unspoken, except among those who couldn't bear it or sought to boast.
For instance, the Carrow siblings flaunted their status as Death Eater recruits, boasting that they would serve the Dark Lord upon graduation.
Apart from Barty Crouch, who occasionally responded positively, most others simply smiled and nodded. The siblings, oblivious, believed they were on the brink of unleashing havoc, purging unworthy wizards in service to their master.
They spoke endlessly of the Dark Lord's unparalleled demeanor, extraordinary mastery of dark magic, and commanding presence at gatherings.
But lacking eloquence, their descriptions boiled down to the same few phrases. Lys listened briefly before retreating to her dormitory.
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