She refused to believe it.
Her father had simply accompanied her mother to some insignificant conference. For years, he'd only ventured to the nearby market on weekends.
How could this happen?
Britain had been chaotic back then, yet her parents had been fine. Why would people who'd brazenly attack her father appear randomly in Britain now?
Lys's hand paused. Just meeting on the road... how did they know Dad was a werewolf...
She'd equipped her father with so many expensive alchemical protective items. Anyone with sense should've recognized upon seeing those items that this person wasn't someone they could afford to provoke!
The notebook in her hand slammed violently onto the desk. The already fragile binding burst open, scattering white sheets across Lys's workspace.
She recalled the gossip she'd heard before, turning to find the collaborator and academic invitee list from Senna's confirmed itinerary invitation.
She stared at the desktop list as though it contained something unbearable. Even without her wand, the magic around her began fluctuating and scattering with increasing intensity.
Those garbage nobles who'd once suggested her mother remarry into their families...
And those perpetrators couldn't speak clearly—that was Confundus Charms at work...
Her mother had mentioned Noah stopping those nobles from harassing her...
Werewolf? Just because he was a werewolf?!
Like a caged beast, Lys covered her arms and paced constantly. Observing the scattered books and papers, she unconsciously grabbed at her hair.
She had to kill them!
But now the crucial thing was stopping her father's soul from advancing!
Otherwise, everything would be too late.
Death was reversible, but soul progression wasn't. Soul progression had to be fair, fair... fair...
Just fair... but needn't be just...
Lys's gaze fixed on several notes pasted back together on the desk. She hesitantly reached for them. If... this represented what she considered a loss more difficult to accept than any sacrifice, would she willingly bear any consequences?
But before choosing consequences, she needed to solve one small problem.
Yes, a small problem... small problem...
Lys uncomfortably grabbed her hair and wrapped her cloak tighter. She now stood inside Azkaban, located on a small island in the sea's center.
The place crawled with Dementors. Reaching here had cost Lys and Lucius considerable effort and favors.
Storms raged at sea. Physical discomfort, fear of losing her current life, and shadows of ocean and cold had caused her to be momentarily affected by a Dementor upon landing.
Fortunately, Lys'sPatronus had never been summoned through happiness from the beginning. In times like these, Lys's protective conviction grew even stronger.
When that silver gorilla violently beat its chest, Lys had already bypassed the guarding Aurors and located the bastards she sought.
Those experimental results Lys had accumulated over years were applied to several people. The souls composed of memories, emotions, and will were searched through by Lys's inexpert technique, causing them to lose the chance of rebirth through afterlife gates even in death.
Look at these arrogant nobles—a werewolf's wife didn't deserve superior potion-making talent! A werewolf's wife couldn't refuse providing them potions!
How could a werewolf be considered human? How could a woman willing to marry a werewolf deserve their proper attention?
Werewolf...
Lys even regretted that when Walburga had died of illness, she'd let her off so easily.
They'd used this method to destroy her carefully maintained life. How could Lys willingly let them prosper? But Lys lacked time for prolonged suffering.
If Lys had sufficient time, she'd rather transform them into werewolves too, enduring discrimination's pain for life.
But if she couldn't control pain's spread, Lys still chose their immediate death.
Three days later, newspapers reported a malicious incident occurring six years after the Dark Lord's disappearance:
Three Azkaban prisoners dead, one escaped and presumed dead. A British potion merchant and his son brutally murdered at home. Surviving servants and house-elves retained no memory of that night's events.
Afterward, Lys wandered daily through the courtyard and her small building, not daring to appear before Senna.
Senna also couldn't look directly at Lys. She feared opening her mouth would voice unreasonable demands—demanding someone to whom she'd never given anything pay expensive prices she didn't understand for her wishes.
Only Friedm attempted getting both to eat something. Together with Kreacher, he ran between houses on little legs, carrying food and milk repeatedly heated and cooled. On nights without Noah and Senna's company, he barely managed sleep listening to the house-elf's peculiar stories.
Clutching her cloak tightly, Lys carefully placed the morganite bracelet and ammolite ring from her hands into her waist pouch.
Lys examined those symbols she'd experimented with countless times, unconsciously grasping another strand of hair.
Noah remained awake for increasingly shorter periods, even beginning to show situations where he couldn't be roused. And Noah could no longer consume those soul stabilizers—his eyes, teeth, and hair had all undergone different, irreversible changes.
Time was insufficient for Lys to hesitate and prepare.
The prisoner Lys had retrieved was confined in the previous small building. He stared at the woman watching him and desperately shrank backward.
Though he knew that for spellcasting, his small retreat was useless, fear still destroyed his rationality.
He was originally a researcher from a soul research institute. He clearly understood this woman's madness.
Those grey eyes revealed hatred—hatred so intense she'd been stingy about granting even her several dead companions the chance of rebirth through afterlife gates.
And now the madness in her expression directly terrified him senseless.
While dodging, he saw Lys staring straight at him, nearly fainting from fright.
"Remember? Herpo shouted loudly on a ship far from shore, thirsting for power. The mysterious being in thunderclouds... The wizard with the Hairy Heart lacked courage to resist, remaining forever at the sea's bottom... While Herpo and others stepped onto fertile soil, escaping the dark Veil."
A voice spoke in Lys's ear, yet Lys, grasping her days-unkempt hair, hadn't opened her mouth at all.
The voice repeated the story Lys had recited countless times in childhood.
"Herpo shouted loudly on a ship far from shore, thirsting for power. The mysterious being in thunderclouds... The wizard with the Hairy Heart lacked courage to resist, remaining forever at the sea's bottom... While Herpo and others stepped onto fertile soil, escaping the dark Veil."
"This world is like the sea's bottom. Without struggling and waving limbs, who'll be next to sink?"
"Will it be me?"
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