Once Lys put on the suit, she became much less noticeable from a distance. Narcissa instructed the house-elf Fifi to simply tie up Lys's hair, bringing the styling to a close.
Narcissa frowned as she folded up the dress and put it away.
Sensing her senior's confusion, Lys took the initiative to explain:
"I don't have anything against dresses—it's just that they're terrible for fighting. The last time I wore a dress in a fight..."
Lys's voice and expression both faded away. Narcissa paused but didn't press further, simply inviting Lys to step into the Floo Network fireplace and head to the banquet.
As the green flames of Floo Powder flared up, Lys glimpsed Narcissa resting her head on Lucius's shoulder. She suddenly recalled that incident in Diagon Alley—Lucius was probably one of the masterminds behind it... Then she was swept away to Dolohov Manor's banquet hall.
The house-elf greeting guests at the door looked so frail it seemed about to faint. Lys simply dropped her gift onto the growing pile—a pair of wand clips, enchanted for focus and mutual signaling.
It was perfunctory, but Lys didn't know the newlyweds; the gift was just a formality.
Standing in a corner, Lys listened to people chatting in German and English. She'd spent a few days learning German out of curiosity about Grindelwald coverage in German papers—not enough to speak or write, but she could catch some words.
But their conversation moved too quickly, and Lys soon lost interest. She decided to find someone familiar to talk to.
Behind the lounge sofa was Severus Snape. Just as Lys was about to approach, a German man with a goatee came over and clinked glasses with Snape. Though Snape looked annoyed, he didn't dodge.
The man's voice was smooth and enthusiastic, while Snape replied in his usual manner: "Igor Karkaroff, I believe the last time the Dark Lord..."
Seeing no point in chatting with Snape, Lys retreated to her corner. If she hadn't been holding a glass of wine and sipping slowly, someone might have mistaken her for a server.
Nibbling a biscuit on the sofa, Lys watched the newlyweds. They seemed almost complete strangers—Lys noticed the groom didn't even know the bride was left-handed, and the bride didn't trust him to hold her wand.
Lys would have believed it if someone said they'd only met today; one didn't speak English, the other didn't speak German.
During the banquet, a few people approached out of curiosity about Lys's identity. Once they learned she was the daughter of the Black family's werewolf bastard, they walked away with contemptuous sneers.
Lys didn't care. In fact, she suddenly felt this kind of life wasn't so bad. If only she could work as a healer at St. Mungo's—but unfortunately, the Dark Mark on her arm made her ineligible, as St. Mungo's only hired neutral staff.
Then again, if the Dark Lord actually won, maybe the Dark Mark wouldn't be such a bad thing...
As long as she had choices, Lys honestly didn't care who used what means to achieve their ends.
While everyone was busy congratulating the newlyweds, Lys helped herself to cake and even drank some milk from the children's table.
Laughter behind her made Lys stop chewing, and she instinctively touched her neck.
"Miss Stalys, you're as unique as ever. Allow me to introduce myself: Menelquede Karkaroff. Pleased to meet you."
Lys swallowed her cake, feeling the man looked familiar—that slick, refined voice...
He appeared to be in his thirties, tall and impeccably dressed, with neatly combed, slightly wavy brown hair. His face was pale but sharply defined, radiating a cold, severe air.
Lys used the excuse of offering him a drink to turn away and search her memory—why did his face strike her as so... so... Lys hesitated, then settled on the word: shocking?
But as she turned back and handed him the wine, Lys smiled graciously and said she was pleased to meet him as well.
They chatted briefly, and it was clear Menelquede was quite interested in Lys. He pointed to her braced left arm and asked if he could help, but Lys politely declined.
As he walked away, Lys's polite smile faded. She didn't expect him to suddenly turn back.
Their eyes met—Menelquede smiled, and Lys's expression twisted for a split second before turning cold. As she turned away, she shot him a sidelong glance.
His laughter echoed in her ears, grating and sharp. Lys knew she must have missed something; otherwise, why would his laughter make her feel a twinge of fear?
Meanwhile, Lucius stood in the ceremony area, watching as the Karkaroff family's British representative approached from the banquet with an unreadable smile. Lucius stepped forward to congratulate the Karkaroffs on their new partnership with the Dark Lord.
The two exchanged pleasantries and headed to the lounge for more detailed discussions.
Lys crunched a sweet in her mouth and ruffled her hair—why couldn't she remember? Who was he?
"Did you know him before?" A question sounded behind her.
Lys stiffened, startled, and turned to see Regulus.
She answered simply, "No, I don't," and walked away.
If Regulus hadn't helped her during a previous operation, Lys wouldn't have bothered replying at all. She just had an ominous feeling about that Karkaroff—he seemed dangerous.
After the wedding, Lys returned to Malfoy Manor with Narcissa—she had questions for Lucius.
"What's the story with the Karkaroff family?" She didn't mention Menelquede by name, but her question was enough for Lucius to provide the basics.
The Karkaroffs were an old, once-prominent German family—a bellwether for German upper society. After the last wizarding war, they'd gone into hiding, but this time, two members had come to Britain, apparently to test the Dark Lord's strength and ideals before forming an alliance.
They claimed the young man who'd caught their attention years ago was now stirring up storms in Britain—how could they not be tempted to meet someone like that?
Igor Karkaroff, who'd been chatting with Snape, was eager to get close to the Dark Lord, but his status within the family wasn't high. He seemed to be considering leaving the family to join the Death Eaters—possibly with the family's tacit approval.
"As for Menelquede, if you can avoid it, don't get involved with him. He's powerful, and... well, you probably couldn't beat him. He's cunning, unpredictable, not someone you want to cross, and he's the Karkaroff family's primary representative in Britain. The Dark Lord values him highly... You'd better keep your wits about you—don't act rashly."
Listening to Lucius's assessment, Lys picked up a biscuit from the house-elf to hide her thoughtful expression.
She ended the conversation casually and returned to her shabby little house in Knockturn Alley. After changing clothes and donning her lily mask, she went to the black clinic to unwind and regain some confidence.
Afterwards, she checked in with her smuggling contact, leaving the Squib boy some cookies and sweets she'd taken from Malfoy Manor.
Back in the reading room, Lys still felt uneasy but much more relaxed. She grabbed Gabon's head and gave it a thorough rub, then pulled out a bag of Fwooper eggs and dumped them into Gabon's food bowl.
Seeing her father sketching something, Lys didn't disturb him. She avoided Senna, who was skinning rare northern materials, and settled into her corner with a battered copy of "& Soul ‖\ and %￥Possibilities."
Some words were smudged, but that didn't stop Lys from studying and taking notes.
The more she read, the more she could connect scattered fragments to related knowledge points.
The more she read, the more she realized how utterly miraculous her survival had been—and how unbelievably arrogant and ignorant she'd been.
The soul—Merlin's beard! Lys flexed her numb fingers inside her brace.
Everything a wizard possesses beyond flesh is carried by the soul: memory, personality, essence, reason, emotion, and so on...
What makes a person unique?
Personality! Choice!
But if parts of the soul are tampered with or stripped away, is your personality still whole? Are your choices truly your own?
The most terrifying part is—even if your choices have been altered, you might never notice anything wrong.
The fact that she hadn't gone mad or become strange was, without doubt, a miracle!
Just as Lys was settling contentedly into the cushion pile, she suddenly sat bolt upright.
Wait!
Trying to play with Fiendfyre in Knockturn Alley! Attempting to rebel against the Dark Lord! Growing more accepting of blood and cruelty...
She blinked, scanning the reading room.
Senna had gone to nap—she'd spent last night brewing potions.
Noah was poking holes in dragonhide, following a blueprint.
Gabon looked up at her.
Lys exhaled and relaxed slightly. All things considered, she was doing far better than those lunatics in the books who slaughtered everyone around them before killing themselves.
Now that she was aware, maybe—just maybe—she'd be a little more careful.
She lay back in the cushion pile. Her left hand throbbed from its awkward position in the brace, but Lys seemed not to notice, lost in thought.
In early September, Lucius secretly invited Lys over.
Sitting in the drawing room, Lys couldn't decide what to make of Lucius's plan...
"So you mean, steal something?"
"No, it's competitive strategy. When he has nothing to put on the shelves, everyone else gets a fair shot at the market."
"Business is business—how can you call it stealing? It's competition, commercial competition."
Lucius grinned smugly...
Lys grinned mockingly...
"Stealing is stealing, no matter how you dress it up."
...
Still, Lys agreed. After all, she'd never pass up a chance to make the Thomases miserable.
She accepted the large-capacity suitcase Lucius gave her but refused the extra person he'd arranged—she had no intention of following Lucius's plan exactly.
Back in her little Knockturn Alley house, Hagrid rummaged in his moleskin coat and pulled out two black creatures—those same ones Lys had "borrowed" from the Forbidden Forest.
—Nifflers.
Lys coaxed the Nifflers into her transformed lizard-skin pocket, checked that Hagrid's umbrella-disguised wand was still sturdy, gave him some of her latest homemade sweets and cookies, and patted his arm in farewell as he seemed to want to say something.
There was a Death Eater gathering tonight, so only Mrs. Thomas, the young mistress, and the little lady were at the Thomas estate. As for why Lys wasn't attending? Someone of her "rank" wasn't worthy of an invitation...
Following the path cleared by Lucius's inside contact, Lys easily reached the small warehouse at the estate's edge.
But she didn't open the door to deal with the troublesome security and anti-theft spells. Rumor had it the Thomases had once done business with goblins—who knew what bizarre protections they had?
Instead, Lys buried several amber-carved runic plates and arrays around the warehouse, activating a powerful protective spell.
The alarms here were sensitive to all magic, even a simple Scourgify—but protective magic wasn't on the list. Who would think to remove their own alarm spells before casting protective charms on their valuables?
Very reasonable, and Lys exploited this loophole perfectly. She blasted a hole in the wall, the shrill alarm ringing in her ears—but it couldn't escape her protective barrier.
Lys peered inside—everything was sparkling. Perfect!
She released the two Nifflers, fitted them with protective collars, and let them loose.
Checking her pocket watch, Lys calculated the timing: Old Thomas and Young Thomas would be under pressure from Lucius and the Dark Lord at the gathering. Even if they received the magical alarm, they wouldn't dare act rashly. By the time they returned, she'd be long gone with her two big black companions.
Heh heh...
But there was a small hitch. When Lys called the Nifflers back, one was clutching a jeweled box from a cabinet, unable to fit it into its magic pouch—and refusing to let go.
In desperation, Lys had to crawl inside herself to pry the box away from the stubborn Niffler.
She packed up the amber plates and, as she left the Thomas grounds, ran right into the two ThomasesApparating back, both drenched in sweat.
Lys even had time to stuff a Niffler into her pocket while waving at the two men raising their wands, then dashed off...
She kept Apparating: forests, the seaside, Godric's Hollow—using her abundant magic and sharp memory to wear down the Thomases chasing her trail until they were forced to split up from exhaustion.
Once she figured she'd shaken them, Lys headed for Malfoy Manor. The loot the Nifflers had gathered was far beyond what her small network could handle—especially since the Thomases had recently hijacked one of her shipments.
Give it back? Lucius had suggested as much, but would Lys believe him? Not a chance, so...
"Finders, keepers."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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