Returning to Malfoy Manor, Lys couldn't be bothered with further arrangements and simply settled into the guest room she'd previously occupied.
At the dinner table, Lys asked Friedm how his day had gone. Draco replied that they'd flown broomsticks for ages but had also practiced magic.
Lys noticed Friedm's slightly weary expression as he nodded, marveling inwardly that someone had actually managed to tire out her energetic brother.
Seeing the blisters and wounds on Friedm's palm that hadn't fully healed, Lys reckoned the boy had gone mad with broomstick flying again.
But she was exhausted herself. As long as her brother hadn't literally twisted his head off like a fly, she couldn't be arsed to lecture him today.
The following morning, Lys arrived early at Hogwarts' gates to wait for Snape to collect her.
She didn't mind Dumbledore observing her from his window—merely calculated mentally which sections she needed to process today.
Thus Lys spent nearly a fortnight in that gloomy underground chamber. Midway through, she'd even dragged Friedm off his broomstick to remind him about his unfinished holiday assignments and the risk of detention lines after term began, then handed him those two red strands.
When Lys finally dissected the last organs requiring processing, she solved a mystery that had long puzzled her:
Where exactly Gabon's beloved fist-sized white magical serpent bezoar had originated.
The answer: it was a Basilisk bezoar.
Meager food and wretched living conditions had severely compromised the Basilisk's health. Those stones—somehow expelled—had been flushed through the sewers to various locations, where Hagrid had discovered and gifted them to Lys.
Lys smiled at Gabon coiled around the bezoar. This explained the source of Gabon's petrification abilities.
Now that she knew, however, she couldn't waste it so carelessly. This stone needed entrusting to Mother for brewing into a magical serpent restorative potion.
Gabon's petrification was pathetically feeble—petrifying a single wizard consumed at least one magical crystal.
Consider that if Lys directly channeled one crystal's worth of magical energy, she could maintain petrification for a full minute...
After distributing all materials, Lys instructed Snape to deliver everything to Malfoy Manor when ready. "Lucius will arrange transport to Germany."
Lys flexed her left hand, smoothing wrinkles from her gloves. "Severus, certain you won't visit? I've materials aplenty."
"You need only help Mother handle those narrow-minded potion associations who despise her werewolf family connections." Lys's expression had already chilled. "I've made them wary of casually provoking our family, but sometimes their superiority complex truly courts death."
Lys continued grumbling to Snape whilst employing a Flying Charm to exit through the pipes: "If Dumbledore weren't constantly monitoring me lately, I'd definitely pay their homes some proper visits."
"I cannot travel abroad freely." Following Lys's lengthy discourse, Snape replied with mere syllables.
Yet he understood Stalys's meaning perfectly.
For Mrs. Black's potions to achieve genuine recognition as legitimate formulations within the wizarding world, she required stable experimental data.
In bygone eras, such data predominantly derived from Muggle testing, but under current secrecy statutes and Muggle protection laws, Senna's potion data must be legally obtained. This meant that without those potion associations' approval, Senna's brews wouldn't gain wizarding world recognition.
Her path toward Potions Mastery could face serious challenges.
"Sod it, I'll devise another approach. This period's been absolutely knackering." Lys cast several Scourgify charms upon herself before departing Hogwarts.
Before leaving, Lys deposited a bag of sweets Friedm had given her at the castle entrance—some ghastly new Honeydukes creation called Cockroach Clusters that resembled actual cockroaches with revolting accuracy. They nauseated Lys thoroughly, appearing even less appetizing than Veela hair.
"For you, Headmaster." Knowing Dumbledore was watching, Lys set them down and Disapparated directly from Hogwarts' gates back to Malfoy Manor.
Malfoy Manor was unusually tranquil save for fountain murmurs. Lys recalled this should be the boys' broomstick flying hour.
"Fifi! Where's my brother?"
House-elf Fifi materialized with a sharp crack, bowing before Lys:
"Hon—honored guest, young guest and young master are in the library."
Then, casting nervous glances about, she vanished with another crack.
Lys never quite grasped the recent changes in Lucius's house-elf, though she paid it little mind. Including her family's Coco, none of the house-elves Lys knew were particularly normal anyway.
In the study, both lads huddled over those two red strands, whispering about unknown schemes.
"No broomstick flying today?" Lys called from the doorway to announce her presence, then froze.
"Friedm, why d'you look so bloody knackered?"
"Dunno, sis. Probably just too hot these past days—tiring from all the broomstick riding." Friedm's complexion was pale, dark shadows beneath his eyes.
Lys regarded Draco suspiciously, finding him equally pallid with heavier dark circles, appearing far more exhausted than Friedm.
"What've you two been staying up all night doing?"
Friedm rubbed his eyes, complaining irritably: "We haven't done anything! Uncle Lucius asked us the same bloody thing, but we honestly went to bed early."
Lys remained skeptical, suspecting the boys had been mucking about with something in their bedrooms.
"Lys, we're wondering—could these strands be crafted into wands? That'd be absolutely brilliant! We found this wood type in a book, called... what was it..." Friedm couldn't recall the name.
Draco quickly supplied: "Dragon blood tree—anything named after dragons must represent tremendous power."
Lys paused thoughtfully. "I know that timber. Indian wizard-healers' wands are nearly all crafted from that material."
"You must understand—your greatest strength lies within yourselves. Even with a powerful wand, if you're inadequate, the bloody thing won't even acknowledge your mastery."
Lys lifted her robes, drawing the blackthorn wand from her thigh holster: "This wand has completely submitted to me. When I cast powerful spells through it, everything flows seamlessly."
"However," Lys sheathed the blackthorn wand, adding, "before earning its recognition, it was merely a relatively compatible wand."
Draco stared transfixed at Lys's blackthorn wand. "What's that upon it?"
"Fiendfyre." Lys plucked fruit from their table and bit into it. "I suggest you both get proper sleep—look at those shadows under your eyes."
Draco's jaw dropped in astonishment, repeatedly nudging Friedm: "Friedm! Friedm! Fiendfyre! That's incredibly advanced Dark Magic!"
Friedm beamed proudly. "Course it is—Lys is absolutely brilliant."
Despite Friedm's proud expression, he'd actually never witnessed Lys wielding the Fiendfyre from her wand.
The boys abandoned their Basilisk hair wand research, instead rifling through Lucius's collection.
Reading about Fiendfyre, both lads lost themselves in imagination.
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