The death of his most loyal subordinate made him realize this war should end.
The most important Potter was already dead.
And perhaps he could wait a bit longer for matters of traitors and establishing authority.
Otherwise, endless challengers would make the Dark Lord's shadow dissipate, and cracks would appear in his rule!
His magic and fury erupted together as he pointed his wand at the witch who had killed Bella.
Let all the damned people die!
If they all died, the war would naturally end!
"..."
"Protego!"
Lys leaned against the sphinx's claw. When the armor that had jumped from the eighth floor with her lifted her up while carrying Gabon, she thought something was wrong with her ears...
She seemed to hear little Potter's voice.
Amid the thunderous roar, Lys confirmed it...
Little Potter had appeared again!
He was back!
Lys felt overwhelming shock and even layers of disappointment.
Though she'd had her fun—it wasn't a loss.
But if she'd known Potter wasn't dead, she wouldn't have charged out like that!
Even if Potter stood there saying all the Horcruxes and fragments had been destroyed... Lys could do nothing now.
Her left arm had endured two or three of the Dark Lord's spells in succession and had maximally opened those two magical patterns. She could even feel those magics corroding something deeper in her arm.
Even Soul Stabilizer couldn't completely ease the pain at her soul's wound—like being constantly ground to dust.
Lys leaned against the cold armor, Gabon sprawled across her legs, forcing herself to stare unblinkingly at the central clearing, ignoring the pain she felt.
She wanted to know the final result.
She remembered the scene when she'd pointed at the Dark Lord's back—black mist, her scarred left arm bearing the Dark Mark pointing at that thin, terrifying figure.
She laughed. Prophecy was truly magical! Wasn't this exactly the scene she'd seen in the crystal ball during fifth year!
Lys's eyes fixed tightly on the central clearing.
Since prophecy was so accurate...
She wanted to see which one would die in the Dark Lord and Harry Potter's "one must die at the other's hand," to decide whether to run now, when an arm appeared before Lys—
The armor's.
It had removed its own arm and offered it to Lys.
Lys, puzzled, reattached it, but the armor kept repeating "I am goblin-made" while trying to place its arm in Lys's hands.
"I am goblin-made"—when the armor spoke, its visor made slight clanging sounds, making it hard for Lys to hear the conversation in the clearing.
Those conversations about Elder Wands and Dumbledore's plans.
Lys poked her head above the armor's arm, trying to see what Potter and the Dark Lord were dawdling about.
But the armor kept repeating "I am goblin-made," making her unable to hear anything clearly.
Still wondering why the two in the clearing weren't fighting yet, Lys couldn't guess what the armor was trying to say.
A house-elf approached, gripping a silver fork, even wearing a tea towel with a white crystal pendant.
"Respected, powerful..." After its lengthy praise, it finally delivered important information: "Goblin silver is special—it absorbs things that strengthen its power."
Lys listened sideways to the conversation in the clearing while trying to understand the elf's words.
But she couldn't manage it. Listening to the central conversation, she felt Snape's underwear was being displayed before everyone.
What did this mean: "Snape loved my mother, from when they were children, he loved her with his whole life"?
?!
Did Snape know Potter was saying this?!
If possible, Lys had to let Snape know!
And! What was Potter saying about using love to protect everyone present from the Dark Lord's harm?!
So I fought the Dark Lord! Do I look like a villain? Don't I deserve your protection, your love?
Didn't he see me save Snape! Really, it hurts so much...
"Respected! Powerful! ...Goblin... earlier materials have higher purity!"
If love was so great... then all those broken families... the Prewetts, the Bones families—they had no love? Unreliable. If it could protect such a large area, it would be more like Hogwarts' protective magic...
Distracted, Lys saw the elf's large eyes sparkling with expectation as it stared at her. Lys asked directly, "What should I do?"
"Put it on!" "I am goblin-made!" The elf's shrill voice and the armor's clanging sounds entered Lys's ears together.
Half-believing, Lys extended her left arm into the armor's offered left arm. Her fingers gripped inside the reasonably fitting gauntlet. Lys was amazed to find the corrosion speed of her left arm and the damage from those two magical patterns had indeed slowed considerably.
And she'd regained a bit of sensation in that arm.
Though only a little, Lys had studied this for years without achieving it!
Momentarily, Lys's sympathy for Snape was diverted. She wiped blood foam from her mouth corner—coughed up from surprised gasping—and straightened to look at the armor. "What about you?"
"Maintenance, goblin, suitable, mine, hands." Lys looked at the large dent in the armor's breastplate, then at the two-handed sword it disdained.
She rolled her eyes, picked up Gabon whose tail tip was broken, and pointed toward the boy who had killed Nagini with his sword...
Then she supported herself up, wearing the armor's left arm section, leaning against the wall with her right hand covering her ribs.
She felt it was time to leave.
Swallowing a mouthful of Soul Stabilizer she'd just taken out, Lys glanced at little Potter still babbling in the central clearing about wands and Snape being Dumbledore's man.
Congratulating herself on keeping two bottles of medicine while dosing herself and avoiding some people's sight as she walked out.
Lys left the Great Hall. She saw storm clouds splitting overhead, golden light flickering.
She spread her magic haltingly throughout her body, ready to flee instantly if the Dark Lord's laughter came from inside.
But what came instead was thunderous cheering after a tremendous crash.
Thunderous cheering!
"Potter! Potter!" "The Dark Lord is dead, dead!" "It's over! It's over!"
Lys's knees hit the ground hard. She couldn't hold on anymore. The Dark Lord was addicted to soul magic, wasn't he? Even his curses attacking her targeted the soul—he didn't want to give her a chance to meet Merlin.
But...
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