Seeing that Lucius was about to lose and would soon be struck by a spell, Lys had no choice but to jump up, grumbling in annoyance:
"If you can't fight, just stay close to the others and let them protect you! Why are you running around everywhere?"
As she spoke, the spell Lys had prepared earlier took effect—plants on the ground twisted and wrapped around Fenwick's ankles and calves.
Both men were startled by Lys's sudden leap; Lucius's spell even misfired, nearly knocking his own mask off, which Lys promptly slapped back into place.
Lys's wand was pointed straight at the temporarily immobilized Fenwick. Fenwick recognized the dented mask—though he didn't lower his wand, he also didn't attack, knowing he had no advantage. It was better to gamble on this person's allegiance.
Lucius tried to raise his wand again, but Lys smacked him on the back of the head. "Hold your mask yourself! If you don't stay put, and the Lord gets angry because you can't report in time, just wait for Crucio! Now run!"
Watching Lucius's retreating figure, Lys shook her head hard. She'd stood up too fast—her vision swam and darkened. She needed a moment to recover.
Still, despite her words, Lys's wand never wavered from Fenwick.
Neither lowered their wands, but Lys slowly backed away, gradually fading from view.
Fenwick breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized there was such a powerful witch among the Death Eaters, but at least she didn't seem keen to escalate. He quickly began dispersing the plants snaking up his legs.
Lys ran through the chaos—everywhere she went, there was fighting. She kept changing her mask, stirring up trouble and darting around, searching for a good place to hide.
She'd just found a spot and was pretending to be unconscious when, of all the rotten luck, Potter jumped off his broom and started dueling Severus Snape right in front of her.
She couldn't have been this unlucky even with Felix Felicis—Lys furiously pounded the grass beneath her.
At least Potter didn't seem to recognize his opponent; the two fought in silence. From the look in Snape's eyes, it was clear he was unleashing all the Dark Magic he'd never dared use on Potter at school.
The good news: the farther they fought, the further they got from Lys.
The bad news: Potter had backup—lots of it.
Lys yanked up a handful of grass, Transfiguring the blades into a pile under her hand. She watched intently, ready to drag Snape away if he showed any sign of exhaustion.
Thanks to Snape's exceptional talent for Dark Magic, he was battered but never quite on the verge of capture. He even managed to take out one of his opponents with a well-placed curse.
Lys exhaled, ready to relax a bit—until she saw that, freed from the threat of a sneak attack, Potter's offense ramped up dramatically, and Snape began to falter under the relentless barrage.
With a silent sigh, Lys used magic to float her Transfigured grass shreds toward their faces, aiming for their eyes.
Caught off guard, most of the group lost their fighting ability, rubbing their eyes in confusion.
Though Snape was puzzled, he seized the opportunity, swiftly knocking out more opponents. The sudden turn of events made Potter fight even harder, determined to protect his friends.
Lys, lying on the ground, lifted her head slightly—thank Merlin, no one was dead, just out of the fight.
She hated being involved in the deaths of innocents.
Yet Snape still couldn't take down Potter. The two had always been evenly matched at school, and even now, with no restrictions on Dark Magic, nothing had changed.
As Lys kept a wary eye on the battle, she couldn't help but admire Dumbledore's sharp eye—recruiting these young men from their second and third years. They really were formidable.
Seeing Snape start to tire, Lys could only sigh—wizard stamina really did matter.
She took a few deep breaths to avoid another dizzy spell like with Lucius. After all, Potter was nowhere near as reasonable as Fenwick.
"Arrow Flight."
Lys sprang up at lightning speed, nearly dragging Snape away with her. She used "Arrow Flight" to speed them along, even having to deflect one of Snape's spells as they went.
"It's me!" Lys called out in warning.
She could tell Snape wanted to turn back and keep fighting, but Lys blasted Potter's broom out from under him. As he crashed down, clutching his groin, she figured he was probably hurt.
Snape frowned under his mask at the sight.
Well...
Lys just hauled Snape along at top speed, dumping him beside Lucius—she honestly didn't know what else to do.
If the opportunity she'd been hoping for didn't arise, Lys just wanted to find a place to wait out the chaos.
Things were wrapping up anyway—Lucius was grumbling about some Death Eaters slacking off, but then received further instructions from the Dark Lord.
He signaled for Lys to send up the Dark Mark as a rallying signal.
But Lys just spread her hands: "I don't know how."
Lucius couldn't help but give her a second look, then ordered another Death Eater to handle it.
It was late now—the sky was streaked with brilliant red clouds. The eerie green glow of the Mark against the crimson horizon made Lys feel nauseous.
She rubbed her head, watching Snape rush back to the front lines, hurling Dark Magic—some spells Lys had never even heard of. She could only sigh.
The Dark Lord's infamous hound—no, his right-hand man.
Always the first to charge into battle with the Order of the Phoenix.
At moments like this, Lys found herself drifting off. Lucius had once told her that, when the Dark Lord suspected Severus's connection to Lily Evans, Snape had openly admitted it, saying that if the time came, he hoped the Dark Lord would grant Lily to him.
Lys knew Snape mainly wanted the Dark Lord to spare Lily's life, but still... She shook her head, thinking he was mad. Lucius, seeing her odd expression, also shook his head—what had old Thomas done to bring people like this into the Death Eaters?
Lucius sighed inwardly but didn't delay. "The Lord will be here soon. You..." Lys nodded in understanding and darted into the woods.
That way, when she slipped out of the forest later, it would make perfect sense for her to be on the outermost edge.
Fate had a cruel sense of irony. When the Dark Lord appeared beside the house in a swirl of black mist, radiating unmatched power, Lys, hidden in the tree shadows, spotted two werewolves amusing themselves. On one of them, her Avenseguim blazed like a little sun in Lys's eyes—
Fenrir Greyback.
What a pity—if only she'd had the chance during the earlier chaos...
As Lys's gaze made the werewolf tense with unease, another surge of powerful magic descended on the lake.
At that moment, the Dark Lord was toying with the remaining young Order members with his spells. Potter, who'd found another broom, was among them.
The Killing Curse's green light flashed, but Potter dodged it with a QuidditchWronski Feint, and the deadly spell struck harmlessly into the grass.
Exhausted and injured, Potter was pulled by Dumbledore into the ranks of the Order's reinforcements.
"Tom, what's the rush? I suppose the failure of your aristocracy bill has made you rather... irritable."
"Dumbledore, aren't you supposed to be in Germany? Or is it that the deaths of a few pure-blood traitors have you so rattled?"
The two exchanged barbs as they faced off by the lakeside cottage.
Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix members gathered, each side banding together for the coming confrontation.
In the woods, Lys listened to the werewolf's increasingly mocking tone as he recalled their last encounter on Hogsmeade Lane with malicious glee.
"I remember your scent. That time, that idiot failed to catch the brat and make Dolores's family swear loyalty to the Dark Lord. The punishment wasn't light... Not that I care. What I really want—" Fenrir Greyback circled Lys like a predator, "—is all that tender meat I missed out on. Children's flesh is the most... hmph!"
His greedy words were cut short as Lys blasted him into a tree with a vicious spell. The woods weren't large, and the trees at the edge were thin and weak—several snapped like twigs as the werewolf crashed through them.
"You dare attack me! Aren't you afraid I'll tell the Dark Lord you ruined his plans? Dolores's family has caused him no end of trouble these years—you'll be in for it—argh!"
Shock was etched across the werewolf's face—he couldn't understand why she dared attack when he had leverage over her!
Under her mask, Lys's expression was almost indescribable—like the time her father had slipped an opal ring onto her finger in recognition of her achievements, that feeling of profound satisfaction after striving for something and finally earning it.
Yes, that's it. My power, what I paid the price for, should be mine to use as I wish.
Gripping her blackthorn wand, Lys dispatched two of Greyback's underlings with quick spells—Avada Kedavra. Out of her way.
Green light flashed, and Lys even had the leisure to gulp down a potion Senna had given her before leaving.
The more dangerous werewolf tried to use his brute strength to dodge Lys's spells and escape the forest, hoping to expose himself to others and save his own skin.
But under the magic of "Arrow Flight," his body grew less and less responsive—Lys's abnormal magical power gave her the decisive edge.
It was a new twist on the spell: if she could use it to speed herself up, she could just as well drag others toward her with magical force.
Lys couldn't help but think—the only regret was that there were no witnesses to justify her actions.
But it didn't matter. Her desire to kill this beast had already been made obvious to the Dark Lord. She'd saved Lucius and helped Snape fight—surely they'd speak up for her. The Dark Lord was unpredictable, but she'd never heard of a Death Eater being punished to death.
Lys spread her magic, confirmed there was no one around, and removed her mask. She couldn't resist the urge for Greyback to see her face—even knowing how dangerous it was, she just couldn't help herself...
So many years—this was her deepest wish. Lys's breathing grew heavier.
The werewolf was still pleading and threatening: "I lead the outcast wolves! The Dark Lord still needs me! You can't kill me—he'll punish you! Let me go, and I'll take care of anything you need done in the future!"
Could it really be this easy?
Lys swallowed hard, her smile growing wider and more terrifying.
She ignored the waves of magical energy from the lakeshore, the thunderous roar of water being manipulated by spells, the cacophony of the crowd's battle cries.
What she wanted was finally within reach. Only now did she feel the true benefit of joining the Death Eaters—otherwise, how could she have gotten close to such a slippery target?
Even if she'd found him, would she have dared risk the Dark Lord's wrath without her Death Eater status?
No—Lys was absolutely certain. That price would have been too high to pay.
Greyback, desperate, revealed his natural werewolf strength, biting down on a hidden vial of enhancement potion, trying to break free from her magical bonds.
And for a moment, he succeeded.
But only for a moment—Lys's power far surpassed that of ordinary witches and wizards. She only stirred up trouble because she refused to let her hard-won strength be commanded by others.
Werewolves like Greyback relied on stealth and the convenience of their fearsome reputation—after all, wizards often hesitated to fight them out of terror, failing to display their true strength.
If werewolves truly possessed overwhelming power, they'd have carved out better lives for themselves by now. What intelligent being would choose to live in godforsaken swamps and deep forests if they had any other choice?
Clutching his life in her hands, Lys looked at his right hand—the very hand that had slashed her father's lower back with Dark Magic.
A series of spells landed on his arm. His screams and curses made Lys's cheeks flush with a terrible satisfaction. She pulled her left hand from its guard, rolled up her sleeve, and undid the dragonhide bracer.
She stretched out her left arm, comparing her own mangled flesh to his increasingly bloody wounds.
"Heh heh heh... hahahaha..." A low, breathless laugh bubbled from Lys, the sound chilling the werewolf to his core. He begged and threatened, but pain didn't frighten him—monthly transformations were far worse agony.
What he feared was death. Only by surviving could he have more opportunities. But the killing intent radiating from Lys had completely shattered his nerve—and he was powerless to fight back.
On the shore, the Dark Lord and Dumbledore exchanged more words—various proposals and negotiations that seemed to go nowhere. Dumbledore mocked 'Tom' in his speech, and their magical powers clashed once more.
Amid the thunderous explosions of spells by the lake, Lys plucked out Greyback's teeth one by one—the very fangs that had bitten her father.
One by one, she didn't let a single tooth fall to the ground, instead tucking them carefully into her enchanted lizard-skin pouch.
She wanted to take them home to show her parents! Her eyes and ears were flushed with surging emotion, but the thought filled her with joy.
As the magical clash by the lake ended, the sickly green light at Lys's wand tip flashed once.
The source of over a decade of terror—and the architect of suffering that extended into the present, perhaps even forever—was finally ended.
Lys looked down at the corpse, then at the wand her mother had given her.
This—this was what the power in her hands was meant for. This was what she wanted to do, what she should do.
Weighing the rather large corpse before her, LysTransfigured it into a misshapen stone and buried it beneath a tree. If she had the chance, she'd want her parents to see it too, but she couldn't take it now—she still might have to face the Dark Lord's wrath.
After all, her desire to kill had been so obvious. If Greyback was found missing and presumed dead, who knew if the paranoid Dark Lord wouldn't come to test her?
Or if those who knew she bore a grudge would use this incident to make trouble? An explosion of hidden secrets under Legilimency would bring risks Lys couldn't bear—there were no secrets in her mind that could withstand such scrutiny.
That could ignite every hidden danger at once...
Following the terrifying magical surge by the lake, Lys put her mask back on and slipped into the ranks of the Death Eaters.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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