She stood up, carrying Crunch on her shoulder, and wandered around the house, looking toward the wall where she'd hidden that box of Thomas's belongings.
Lys drifted into another daze. Now that she thought about it, the secrets she knew were becoming increasingly terrifying—so much so that even the Dark Lord's murders seemed almost trivial by comparison.
Noah entered, looked Lys up and down, and sighed. "Let me take you clothes shopping." He inwardly lamented that the clothes he was still making would be too small again—his tailoring simply couldn't keep pace with Little Star's, er, expanding figure. Those potions were truly ruthless.
Lys stared at the unfamiliar reflection in Madam Malkin's full-length mirror, unconsciously pinching her own cheek.
Tugging at the suit she wore, Lys couldn't help but exclaim:
"Blimey, Dad, I look even more like a bloke in this."
Previously, Lys in men's clothing still looked somewhat like a girl, but now...
Madam Malkin couldn't help but massage her temples. This customer had tried on so many outfits, yet none seemed quite suitable.
In the end, Lys left with two sets of wizarding robes and several pairs of specially tailored trousers.
The two of them, carrying their purchases, entered the pet shop to buy food for that stupid bird and Crunch.
Crunch was about to shed his skin—his first molt since becoming a magical creature. Lys was inevitably nervous and even bought some conditioning oils that supposedly all magical serpents loved.
Afterward, they visited different shops to replenish various supplies before Apparating home with their numerous packages.
Watching the forest gradually part before them to reveal the house with its small courtyard, Lys nodded with satisfaction.
This protective magic was her own modified research. If her body hadn't been so compromised at the time, she would have preferred to relocate their previous small house here as well—she'd barely lived in that room for a few days.
Stepping into the courtyard, Lys had planted a row of Singing Lilies near the gate. The flowers were softly humming gentle melodies. In the sunnier spots, Noah had cultivated patches of roses and climbing roses, now in brilliant bloom.
Between the stepping stones grew Irish moss and some speedwell, lending a lively, vibrant atmosphere. At the courtyard's far end stood a small swing—Lys could barely fit into it before, but now it was absolutely impossible.
Lys crossed the courtyard, carrying nothing in her hands—Coco had taken everything with household magic.
Lys's left hand remained secured in its brace, suspended from her neck. Though she couldn't use magic, she still clutched her wand constantly in her right hand.
Entering the kitchen, after Coco had organized everything, Lys began cooking, tossing kitchen scraps out the window where Senna had planted a Bloodthorn.
This plant had enormous nutritional and fertilizer requirements—within an hour, those scraps would be completely decomposed and absorbed.
This thorn was the most crucial ingredient in the potions Lys regularly consumed. Store-bought materials were not only expensive but always had various flaws. Senna, whose temper had grown increasingly volatile, was thoroughly disgusted and had simply gone to the deep mountain forests to dig up one herself.
Lys's massive food and energy requirements also stemmed from this ingredient's side effects.
After Coco helped set the table, the family sat down to eat together. Lys's plate contained only two meager chicken legs and some vegetables—it looked pitiful, but neither Coco, Noah, nor Lys herself dared add anything more.
Post-meal honey water and sweets had been completely eliminated. Though Lys couldn't help sneaking treats, she understood this approach.
Those previous potions couldn't be thoroughly researched for certain reasons, but Senna had still drawn some conclusions. That potion contained nothing lethal, yet it brimmed with rarely seen, pure malice.
The withering potion's deprivation effect remained undiminished while hallucinogenic weakening and erosive corruption effects had been added—clinging to Lys like bone-deep maggots, worn away by her magic yet also nourished by it.
This was why the corrosion on Lys's left fingertips had never healed—that damage could only be slowly worn away with time.
Fortunately, Lys was young with strong magical power. Otherwise, even with Senna's potion assistance, recovery would likely take five to eight years.
Senna had tried to learn why Lys had drunk that potion, but Lys always responded with silence.
Unable to hide her disgust, Senna brewed several bottles of Baruffio's Brain Elixir and intelligence-enhancing potions to supplement Lys's medicine chest.
Crouching in the flower beds, Lys had Cerebold deliver her letter to the witch in Knockturn Alley, then sighed that the witch's name was truly cumbersome—nearly longer than the letter itself.
Standing up, Lys used scissors to trim the rose bushes' extending branches while humming the same melody as the Singing Lilies.
Her mind was calculating the German matter.
Actually, Lys had previously deduced an even more absurd secret—something about the Dark Lord and the Karkaroff family's connection.
She'd originally planned to use this as a springboard to Germany, but upon reflection, exposing her knowledge of this seemed even more dangerous than remaining in Britain...
Just as she was pondering how to leave, Regulus's letter and the Daily Prophet's news about German-British wizarding cooperation provided a new breakthrough. Recognizing the potential, Lys decisively abandoned her previous plan.
Now... Lys had even decided what belongings and people she'd take when leaving. The letter to that witch asked whether she'd be willing to accompany her to Germany.
After trimming the branches and admiring her work, Lys glanced at the pruned branches on the ground. Appropriate sacrifice enables better survival and growth—sometimes she needed to make choices too.
To leave quickly, she needed faster recovery, which required doubling her potion consumption. But Mother would never agree...
She sighed, cleaned up the debris, then went to write letters to Senior Lucius and Snape.
Two days later, Lucius's reply merely said there had been progress, but specifics were still under discussion. He subtly complained about the Ministry's sluggish efficiency.
Snape's reply was quite concise—polite, restrained, yet caustic. But Lys was accustomed to this. After extracting the information she wanted, she wrote back:
Severus, I understand everything you've said, but I simply cannot brew a qualified potion. I wonder if a tree snake shed of sufficient age might persuade our future Potions Master to brew this meaningless potion for me?
Oh yes, plus an exclusive manuscript I found in my family's collection.
The reply contained only a few words: Have that stupid bird collect it in a month.
Lys raised an eyebrow and set down the note.
Snape was wrong—very wrong—but Lys couldn't pinpoint exactly what. She felt he'd been excessively active lately, not just his reputation within the Death Eaters, but even the wider wizarding world was hearing ambiguous rumors about Snape.
Especially when Lys had mischievously sent him Potter-brand shampoo—she'd actually seen expectation in his eyes...
Had brewing potions addled his brain?
That day, Lys was caught by Senna sneaking sweets in the rose bushes. Not daring to remain home, she clutched Crunch and was taken by Noah to Diagon Alley for shopping.
But standing in Diagon Alley, looking at the sparse crowds and familiar shops on both sides, Lys had no interest in shopping or exercise. She just wanted to eat something and lie in bed.
She stood unabashedly outside the ice cream shop, staring at that never-melting nut banana boat and swallowing hard.
Lys had money in her pocket, but didn't dare eat—today's stolen spoonful of maple syrup was already her limit. Her left hand's brace had already been enlarged by two sizes!
When Snape last saw her, he'd mocked that she now looked like Hagrid...
Like Hagrid...
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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