Lys continued her usual routine of reading—Runes, magic arrays, spells...
In the reading room, there was no one to help her clarify the obscure points. Whenever she made mistakes that caused harm to herself, she relied solely on her magic to suppress the damage.
While Senna took Noah home to endure the full moon period, Lys took the money she had earned from her collaboration with Loralyn Eibach and headed to Knockturn Alley.
Apart from Borgin and Burkes, Lys, wearing a half-open singing lily mask, also visited a shady pub that accepted all sorts of commissions.
The owner, a Romanian vampire, cheerfully weighed the 50 Galleons Lys placed on the counter. "Guaranteed satisfaction."
Lys wasn't worried about him reneging or pocketing her money. After all, this place was part of the Malfoy family's underground operations.
Recommended by Snape, it was probably the most reliable place she could find.
Lys flicked two silver Sickles into the air. "A pint of mead. This place is really out of the way. I even had to fight my way here. Honestly..."
The owner froze for a moment. "A fight? You fought my men?!"
Looking at the bandaged man before her, who resembled a mummy, Lys licked her molars. Well, this was awkward. Four wizards surrounded Lys, and half the pub's patrons were watching the commotion.
The man demanded compensation and lost wages, asking for an exorbitant amount.
Lys proposed to examine his injuries first, refusing to accept what she considered extortion.
"After all, I just waved my wand casually."
When the bandages on the man's head were removed, the horrifying sight wasn't the bleeding wound but his lips, swollen like wheels, and his tongue, which kept splitting anew.
Lys sneered. Let this be a lesson. If you dare to insult someone's family again, don't expect to keep your tongue.
After all, in such a gray area, losing one's life the next day was something everyone understood.
With a casual flick of her wand, Lys lifted the curse. A few more wand movements and the man was moving freely, his split lips healed. However, the pain he had endured couldn't be erased.
The now-mobile wizard's first reaction was to beg for mercy. "I was wrong, I was wrong, please forgive me!"
Lys waved her wand and nodded toward the owner, signaling him to say something.
In the end, Lys was respectfully offered a large cup of aged mead and even received a job invitation from an old wizard.
A black-market clinic... That's when Lys realized why Madam Pomfrey had told her last year that she had no hope of joining a "regular hospital." Apparently, there were irregular ones.
Lys waved the parchment job offer, dispelled its tracking charm, and told the owner she might visit if interested.
In the following days, while the reading room remained open, Lys wasn't there. The few visitors were left to read on their own.
Instead, Lys spent her time at the shady pub, drinking a large pint of mead daily while listening to wizards brag and gathering the information she wanted.
The Dark Lord, noble families, secrets—though important, none intrigued Lys as much as gossip.
Mrs. Zabini, who had lost three husbands, was getting married again.
Lys clicked her tongue. She remembered that in her first year, the newspapers reported Mrs. Zabini's second marriage. Three years, three husbands...
A male wizard in the back seat lewdly remarked on how beautiful Mrs. Zabini was. The garishly dressed witch beside him puffed out her chest and scoffed, "What's so great about that woman? She's probably cursed or has some bloodline defect! Whoever touches her dies!"
Hearing this, Lys took another sip of her drink. A curse?
She couldn't help but recall the cursed book in the Restricted Section. The female author had exhausted her imagination cursing her husband. The content was bizarre, and to this day, Lys didn't understand what the ominous thing mentioned in the book was.
Thinking of this, Lys downed the rest of her drink in two gulps and returned to the reading room with the goods she had received that day.
Lys opened the Muggle medical books the pub owner had delivered, their pages reeking of potions. She meticulously studied the photos within. Under the cold, precise descriptions, the visceral impact of the flesh-and-blood images was quickly set aside.
She even pulled out her third-year research notes, which had once scared her sleepless, and compared them with excerpts from the cloth-bound book.
Cross-referencing and analyzing, Lys longed to see and explore a real, intact spine—complete with membranes and muscles.
But she couldn't find one. The books mentioned that monkeys were often used for experiments and dissections...
So she returned to the forest where she and her mother had once fled during a chase and found a dying gorilla.
She initially wanted to take it away directly. But despite the gorillas' evident fear of her, the largest one became aggressively protective when it realized she intended to take one of its kind.
Lys spent three days observing the gorillas. They would glance at her sideways, pick their noses, lick their fingers, and pretend not to see her. But the moment she moved, they would shield the old gorilla and bare their teeth, pounding their chests and swinging their fists, sparks practically flying.
Lys almost laughed.
It wasn't until the old gorilla passed away that Lys took its body and Apparated back to the reading room.
Immersed in the thrill of knowledge and mastery, Lys constantly sought to learn and achieve more.
She wandered the corners of Knockturn Alley, searching for what she needed. Occasionally, she intervened in the grotesque scenes of the dark world; other times, she walked away.
The child once ignored at home was now building a world increasingly grounded in reality.
Initially, she tried to treat these people with the habits and lessons she had learned at school. But...
Looking at the wizard curled up on the ground, Lys came to a stark realization: in both the light and the dark, power was the ultimate currency.
There was no need for politeness toward those already harboring malice.
With a flick of her wand, she tossed the would-be murderer aside and ignored the watching eyes as she left.
When frustrated by her studies, she would go to the shady pub to watch others fight—or join in herself.
Each incident further validated the idea that power was the currency of the world.
Lys reminded herself that her relentless pursuit of magic was worth it. She could make her father less regretful, her mother happy, and achieve her own desires.
She told herself not to be overwhelmed by a few individuals. She was already strong, even before graduation.
She needed a clear understanding of herself—not to overreach, for she wasn't invincible, but also not to cower, for she wasn't weak.
Lys's medical research hit a bottleneck. The gorilla, despite its similarities to humans, was ultimately different.
Now, Lys desperately wanted to see a healthy human spine—to feel and compare it with her hands and magic.
Recently, Noah had been puzzled. The daughter who refused to leave the house two years ago was now rarely seen during the holidays. When she returned, her clothes often weren't the same as when she left.
He pondered for a moment and sighed.
What was Lys up to? She was at the black-market clinic negotiating. "I'll lift your curse and heal your dark magic wounds. You just pay the clinic's fees; I won't charge you."
But few agreed to sit on her examination table, as her condition was to open up their backs to examine their spines once healed. Who would agree to such a mad request?
Lys idly flipped through a Runes translation book until a dying wizard appeared.
The witch had no money, her wand was broken, and her companions had abandoned her at the clinic's door.
Opening the door to this scene, Lys laughed. She tossed two Galleons into the clinic owner's cash box and dragged the witch onto a bench by her hat.
The owner, having profited from Lys's efficient methods, couldn't say much. After all, he couldn't beat her or drive her away.
Thanks to Lys's expertise in treating difficult wounds, the once-failing clinic gained some reputation within half a month.
Lys used a powerful awakening spell to bring the witch back to semi-consciousness.
"I'll save you, but afterward, let me see your bones. Deal?"
What could the witch say? She didn't even understand Lys's words before fainting again.
Her injuries were simple: extensive, hard-to-heal dark magic wounds causing severe blood loss. At St. Mungo's, she'd recover in half a month.
But her companions didn't dare take her there. Dark magic injuries required explanations to Aurors, and their activities would land them in Azkaban.
To them, one person's life wasn't worth the risk to their freedom.
Lys barely used any blood-replenishing potions on her. When the witch awoke two days later, she cautiously asked what she owed.
"I have no money, no identity, and now no wand. I can't pay."
Lys nodded. Perfect—her research material had arrived.
The potent sedative Lys had brewed from Snape's recipe became the witch's daily dose, rendering her unconscious with each sip.
When Lys found two more "research subjects," the witch became her assistant, replenishing potions and materials. Lys wasn't worried about her running off with money. The witch had nowhere to go, her former companions arrested and blaming her for their crimes. Now, with an updated wanted poster, she was a fugitive.
The destitute, the dying, the vengeful—though Lys hadn't taken a life in the past month and a half, her hands were rarely free of blood. She disappeared from Noah and Senna's sight.
When she finally returned to the reading room, she asked Noah:
"Dad, do you want to stand up?"
Noah saw the dark circles under Lys's eyes and the light in her gaze he had never seen before.
Emotions churned within him, but he ultimately lowered his head, hiding his desire.
He had fantasized and struggled before, but that was in the past—not now.
Back then, Senna's curses were weak, and she struggled daily to make potions and survive in the gray areas, too afraid of enemies to return home.
Back then, his little star was small, completely ignored by him.
If he could have stood then, Senna wouldn't have had to endure so much, and his little star would have had a better environment or a more responsible father.
But not now. Now, he couldn't stand.
Senna and Lys had identities in the light, and Lys's future was visibly bright. A disabled werewolf father already brought her discrimination; if he stood, her future would worsen.
Noah touched the wheelchair's armrest and shook his head with difficulty.
Lys's expression didn't change. She picked up the wand long unused in the wheelchair's armrest. "Cypress wood, noble and self-sacrificing. Mom chose well for you."
Clutching the wand, Lys knew what Noah was thinking.
"But Dad, have you thought that I don't want or need to live by others' judgment? At school, I ignore all ridicule because I break their noses. Outside, I silence foolish insults with strength."
"Dad, I'm working hard to separate the future from the past. Otherwise, what am I working so hard for?" Lys placed the wand in Noah's palm, pressing his fingers around it.
"Before you, I'll make them see me. I'll make them too afraid to say anything."
She hesitated, glancing at Senna approaching. "Stand up, Dad. Mom and I both want you to. You've always been in pain, unable to protect us. I know. After that night, you never slept, sitting by the window. I know."
Of course, Lys knew. She couldn't sleep either.
"Stand up. Things won't get worse. Once you stand, you can protect Mom. As for people calling us the werewolf's family? I don't care, and Mom certainly doesn't!"
Indeed, Lys didn't care. What did those people have to do with her?
She cared only for those who had reached out to her.
Even though Noah's neglect and his implied intention to leave when Lys received her Hogwarts letter left a knot in her heart.
But even so, Lys understood that Noah hadn't abandoned her and her mom—he had abandoned himself.
Noah finally agreed. He realized that his self-sacrificing choice had become an unresolved burden for his little star.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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