"Friedm, come on—I'm taking you to Britain for a few days."
"But term isn't over yet, Lys! How long will we be gone? How many clothes should I pack? Oh, can we stop home first to fetch my pet carrier, Lys..."
Lys composed herself and addressed all of Friedm's questions and requirements.
After having Cereboldt deliver a note to Noah, she scooped up Gabon and whisked Friedm away on an illegal border crossing.
Actually, Lys appearing in Britain posed no real problem—it was simply that legal reentry channels required appointments, applications, and waiting for official notifications. Lys refused to wait.
She'd grown accustomed to unrestricted travel during her wandering years...
When they materialized at Malfoy Manor, Friedm suddenly remembered that Draco hadn't been released for holidays yet.
After all, he lacked a sister who served as his tutor whilst flagrantly disregarding regulations.
As Lys led Friedm toward Lucius's study vicinity, she sensed something amiss in the atmosphere. Moreover, Lys detected the putrid stench of corrupted soul.
This scent had once clung to her.
It made her expression thoroughly unpleasant.
For an instant, Lys suspected Lucius Malfoy had attempted creating a Horcrux but failed due to insufficient magical prowess.
The thick, nauseating reek permeating the house made part of her essence violently sick.
"Friedm, go observe the white peacocks in the courtyard."
Lys's voice turned cold and sharp. Friedm, clutching his wand, didn't understand what was happening but obediently retreated to the courtyard they'd just traversed. He crouched in a sun-shielded corner, standing on tiptoes whilst attempting to secretly peer through the windows.
But he could see nothing—hear nothing.
"Lucius, my dear senior, something in your house appears to have... spoiled."
Lys fixed her gaze directly upon the somewhat disheveled Lucius Malfoy:
"Would that be your brain?"
Lys's piercing scrutiny made the already panicked Lucius even more flustered. Ever since Stalys's father's incident years ago, she was typically manageable, but once her mood soured or dissatisfaction arose, her entire presence became razor-sharp and intimidating.
Lucius had witnessed this at a potions symposium when Stalys's aura had been directed elsewhere.
Back then, Stalys—who'd been somewhat more robust than now—had slapped a wizard who'd insulted her father so viciously the man spun several rotations. Lucius had stood smugly in the crowd, enjoying the spectacle.
Now that such intensity was focused on him, the situation proved far less entertaining.
"Stalys! I've just returned from Dumbledore's—now, cough... would you kindly rein in your magic?" Lucius's already tousled hair scattered further.
Lys glimpsed Friedm through the window and settled expressionlessly onto a nearby sofa.
"You once claimed we were friends, for whatever reason. Because of that, I must warn you." Lys's voice carried barely perceptible trembling. "What you're attempting—do you truly comprehend the consequences?"
Had everyone lost their minds? Was tampering with souls no longer forbidden?!
Lucius appeared somewhat startled but quickly explained:
"That genuinely wasn't my design! I'm not foolish enough to attempt such madness where Britain's most brilliant wizards congregate! Right beneath that old bee's very nose!"
Facing Lys's razor-sharp gaze, Lucius forced himself upright. "It was an accident. I wouldn't gamble with Draco's safety. Incidentally, how did you discover this so rapidly!"
Lys realized she and Lucius seemed to be discussing entirely different matters, but she merely continued staring at the still-disheveled Lucius without movement.
However, Lucius—who'd survived years navigating Britain's predatory political landscape whilst maintaining Malfoy's position atop the aristocratic hierarchy—possessed considerable cunning. He revealed nothing further.
Lucius swiftly attempted redirecting the conversation. "Because of this incident, my previous school board proposal was nullified, I might be expelled from the board entirely, I've been saddled with blame, and I lost one of my house-elves. Fortunately, I'd considered it mentally defective and hadn't involved it in significant matters."
He sighed, continuing beneath Lys's unrelenting stare:
"Most critically, there's Draco—his body was affected and still hasn't recovered. He doesn't even know that thing existed."
Only then did Lys avert her gaze—not because Lucius imagined she believed him.
Rather, Lys realized this wasn't what she'd suspected—Lucius dabbling in forbidden soul magic—but instead...
The diary Draco had mentioned acquiring at Christmas.
That object was the Dark Lord's Horcrux. She'd wanted no involvement whatsoever.
Lys's suddenly withdrawn aura made Lucius even more uncomfortable. He coughed twice, his complexion poor—he'd been injured by the house-elf that had betrayed him in this affair.
"Gabon, relax—you're strangling me." Lys patted the substantial coil draped across her shoulder.
But Gabon didn't relax remotely. Instead, its tail tip thrashed wildly, tangling Lys's hair into complete chaos.
"I'm gratified that someone is now... er, concerned about my welfare, but might my dear junior grant me some privacy?"
Lucius addressed his request to the junior who'd been prepared to crush him with magical pressure one moment, then conversing with her serpent the next:
"Perhaps we might arrange a pleasant reunion another time."
Lys supported Gabon with one hand as she headed toward the exit. "Friedm, we're buying sweets!"
Lucius watched his junior's departing figure, smoothing his hair whilst wondering—wasn't this his own residence? How was she more comfortable here than he was?
Rising, he extracted from his cloak pocket a diary with a punctured, scorched, filthy cover reeking of something metallic and foul, hurling it onto his desk. His momentarily relaxed mood turned irritable once more.
Lys stood outside Honeydukes, laboriously attempting to untangle her hair whilst observing her brother earnestly converting Sickles to Galleons.
She sighed internally—the boy hadn't inherited an ounce of their father's mathematical aptitude.
She tossed him a small pouch of gold coins: "Your pocket money for next year."
Friedm immediately brightened, bouncing inside to purchase an enormous pile of confections.
Watching her foolishly delighted brother, Lys glimpsed the life she'd once most desperately wanted—a little Hufflepuff blessed with a loving family, where minor problems could be resolved and major ones needn't concern him even if he couldn't handle them.
"Lys, your Fizzing Whizzbees!"
Snapping from her reverie, Lys accepted the candy and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before blowing a shimmering bubble.
Watching the blue-purple orb drift skyward in a daze, the agitated Lys suddenly seized Friedm's collar and warned him urgently:
"Never trust words or temptations lightly. Don't allow desire and fear to control you. Maintain self-awareness, weigh what you're losing against what you're gaining, and let your current life continue!"
"...Do you remember?"
Lys's gaze was so unfocused that Friedm wasn't entirely certain she was addressing him.
But this didn't prevent Friedm—whose teeth were thoroughly stuck with Butterbeer toffee—from nodding solemnly.
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