Half a year later, Lys had been permitted by the bald chief physician to venture fifty steps beyond her room, and she secretly indulged her desire to play doctor.
She transfigured medical robes and slipped into the room of an Auror named Tonks in the adjacent corridor, using bone remnants to craft curses that alleviated her dark magic injuries.
Though she disliked Lupin, whom Tonks had married, a young witch insisting on her choice to marry a werewolf and bear his child truly made Lys...
Hiss... honestly, if Noah had been a werewolf when he first met Senna, Lys wasn't sure she'd still exist in this world.
So she greatly admired this witch.
Then she was caught by St. Mungo's actual healers.
"Did it lessen or not! Cough! Just tell me if the residual effects lessened! Cough cough!"
Lys was still clutching her ribs, pointing at the still-immobilized Tonks watching the show, emphasizing that her operation had no negative effects.
But unexpectedly, the young healer across from her narrowed her eyes and asked a question that made Lys's gaze begin wandering:
"Where did you get the corpse you used?"
Then Lys lost a pocket watch...
The Auror who came to handle this matter stared thoughtfully at the Death Eater's corpse they'd been hunting for ages without a single clue.
He asked Lys: "Are there any more?"
"No more."
Lys clutched her satchel, insisting she had none left.
But actually... compared to the rewards for turning in those pocket watches and unrecorded illegal materials.
Lys chose the materials.
As for Aurors spending great effort hunting for a batch of dead people?
What did that have to do with Lys?
Her unique method of using bone remnants to cast curses for removing dark magic residue made the bald chief physician's already sparse hair stand on end.
Dark magic damage wasn't necessarily permanent—certain counter-curses could provide relief—but the threshold for such healing techniques was far too high.
Moreover, the ratio of time and energy consumed to results was too disproportionate.
He even prepared a seat and snack box for Lys in his office, trying to learn those once-illegal dark magic techniques from her while busy with work.
The Aurors stationed at St. Mungo's could only pretend they saw nothing—after all, when this technology matured and became legitimate, they might benefit most.
More than the individual healing techniques, the chief physician was curious about how Lys's original thinking had opened up.
"I don't know what I was thinking back then—I was only third year..."
Lys chewed the small cookies the chief physician had bribed her with:
"No idea. I'd only been exposed to the magical world for two or three years then, spending holidays in Knockturn Alley during my most imaginative period. How would I know the proper way to handle things? Just fumbled around... not dying counted as success..."
Having finished the chief physician's cookies, Lys tried to pick up Gabon and walk around.
But she ran out of energy halfway and was collected by another healer who wheeled her back to her room.
During this, she heard gossip from that healer:
The Thomas family ancestral home had been bought back by old Thomas's brother, who'd fled when Thomas joined the Dark Lord, returning to British wizarding society wanting a fresh start, but progress seemed very poor due to old Thomas's past actions.
Thomas's daughter had renounced her inheritance rights and gone to Gringotts, truly becoming a goblin collaborator.
The Longbottom couple would hold a ball in a few days celebrating their son's birth, inviting everyone they could.
The Ministry of Magic had awarded Snape an Order of Merlin, First Class, but also issued restriction orders—though Lys thought both the medal and prohibition were jokes.
At Lys's room door, the healer who'd been gossiping during his break couldn't resist sharing internal gossip: "Phil Ritus from the Potions department was admitted to his own ward because he took a large sum of Galleons to slip love potion into Professor Snape's vegetable soup..."
"There'll be an internal reprimand this afternoon. I'm sure you'll know, so please keep it secret until then~"
Seeing Lys finally raise an eyebrow, no longer looking disinterested, the healer puffed out his chest smugly and closed Lys's door.
Slowly moving to her bed, Lys finally realized Snape's insistence on discharge hadn't been about escaping her boring harassment—he'd been more frightened by those maintaining strange fantasies about him...
"Haha, cough!Cough cough, hahaha!"
Lys lived on St. Mungo's fifth floor. Originally, she should have been in a secure ward, but for reasons all healers knew, her room couldn't be secured.
"Sis, don't break it! Don't break it! I'll open it for you!"
Sunday, visiting through Hogwarts' fireplace, Frey rushed forward to open the door for Lys when he saw yet another door about to fall victim to her hands.
Lys's first words upon seeing Frey: "Frey! Come on, bring Gabon to the sixth floor—the chief physician's note says the tea room has limited cookies today."
"When I go home, I'll just stay there, have Coco bake sweets according to my recipes, cough cough! Live quietly. This place isn't bad... tsk, just the food's terrible... Last time Lulu came with Mom to visit, bringing Dad's cooking... but this can't be eaten, that can't be eaten... really fed up..."
Listening to Lys's chatter, Frey pushed over a wheelchair, but Lys shoved it aside.
"I'd rather walk slowly than sit in that thing again. Last time Agnes saw me being wheeled back, cough! her laughter echoed through half the ward corridor like barking."
Frey knew that witch—a dedicated Transfiguration enthusiast who'd made an error completing Animagus magic, becoming half-human, half-dog, unable to use magic anymore, living here for years.
Frey smiled, then tried explaining why he didn't send food by owl: "St. Mungo's special care wards, since three years ago when an Unspeakable named Broderick Bode died from Christmas gifts sent by owl..."
Lys's expression instantly darkened.
Realizing something, Frey immediately changed topics: "I also brought some Fizzing Whizzbees, Sis."
He carefully tucked the candy into Lys's hospital gown pocket while watching her expression, then shouldered Gabon from the bedside to accompany Lys to the sixth floor.
On the way, they encountered a patient. Frey felt those big white teeth looked familiar—he wore neat but slightly worn violet robes, holding a peacock feather quill that was almost just the shaft.
"Hello! Want an autograph?"
"Lockhart! If you wander around again, I'll tell Mrs. Strout to confiscate all your signature practice parchment!" Lys glowered at the wizard.
Watching the frightened wizard retreat to the room marked "Gilderoy Lockhart," Lys looked away.
"An idiot denying his identity and past. In '92 or '93, he used a broken wand at Hogwarts and blasted himself stupid with a Memory Charm."
Lys introduced her neighbor—er, fellow patient—to Frey.
Thinking it over, Lys told Frey to bring a fancier quill next visit. "It's completely bald..."
Then Lys stopped at a corridor corner. A woman wearing an eagle hat walked stiffly past with a rigid expression.
"That's Mrs. Longbottom. You should know her grandson, Neville Longbottom."
"She doesn't like me because I'm a Death Eater... Around '81, her son and daughter-in-law were tortured insane by fellow Death EaterBellatrix with the Cruciatus Curse. They've never recovered."
Lys sighed, her medical urges surfacing again, her expression no longer gloomy.
Clutching her ribs, she shuffled forward slowly, not forgetting to voice her opinions:
"If I may say, if her tortured son and daughter-in-law are truly as mentally resolute as she claims, she could try erasing some of their memories instead of trying to awaken them. And I think St. Mungo's treatment methods, chosen due to their special admission status, are somewhat rigid and conservative."
"Cruciatus..." Lys sighed again. "Mental and memory torture isn't less than physical."
"Isn't madness caused by pain exceeding their capacity? Forget those parts... maybe the will blocked by pain and terror could..."
Mid-flow, Lys suddenly looked back. Since that Ministry of MagicDepartment of Mysteries incident years ago, she'd been sensitive to sounds behind her.
There stood Neville Longbottom, clutching Fizzing Whizzbee wrapper, looking at Lys thoughtfully.
Then he spoke: "And then?"
Hearing Neville's question, Lys fell silent—this was just her speculation.
She deeply understood having family submerged in pain. She didn't know if her guess proved ineffective or negative...
Whether the final result would be worse for the person before her.
"This is just my immature speculation."
But remembering Longbottom's sword severing Nagini on the battlefield, Lys raised an eyebrow. "But if you want to gamble, I suggest finding Severus Snape for specific operations and borrowing a Pensieve from Professor McGonagall."
"Don't awaken memories—directly remove some memories, see if they improve. Cough cough, some Cruciatus damage is permanent, but if this method works, at least they should understand when you call them Mom and Dad."
"Neville! Don't talk to those misplaced villains!" came Mrs. Longbottom's displeased call from afar.
Lys nodded at the young man thanking her:
"You'd better discuss with your grandmother, then ask that bald chief physician. I think he's quite good at accepting new things and ideas."
When they finally reached the sixth floor, the limited cookies were gone...
Lys stared blankly at the ice cream next to the empty cookie barrel.
She still couldn't eat ice cream...
Frey looked around, bought sweet tea and a muffin for Lys, leading her away from the ice cream window.
Lys slowly ate her treat, squinting at Frey'sHistory of Magic homework spread on the table.
Merlin... this wouldn't even get an A (Acceptable)...
A portrait of Phineas Nigellus spotted Frey in the crowd, pushing aside a sleeping portrait occupant beside Frey.
"Black's foundation is far more than I described last time. If you plan to have your son inherit the Black name and family..."
Frey was somewhat helpless: "Draco also has Black blood! He's also pureblood! You can find him!"
"He's a Malfoy now—their family has single heirs! Only you remain for Black!"
"I refuse!"
"..."
Lys's wand silently pointed at Phineas, who wisely decided to corner Frey after he returned to Hogwarts.
A year later...
"Sis! You still can't Apparate. If you want to go somewhere, tell me and Dad—we'll take you by broomstick!"
Frey looked helplessly at Lys holding her wand, preparing to sneak out.
Since all speculation had been confirmed and all turmoil gradually settled.
He felt his discharged sister had activated some strange switch.
Fighting, provoking rules.
Rushing to Azkaban to unleash her silverback gorilla Patronus, knocking away and roaring at Dementors, just to kill the Carrow siblings.
And she'd succeeded. More outrageously, the Ministry of Magic had only summoned her three or four times but done nothing else!
Who knew what she'd given the Ministry of Magic...
Then she continued after returning.
Completely disregarding her incompletely healed injuries, acting recklessly.
This completely contradicted her bedridden claims of wanting quiet days eating sweets!
But what could he do? His sister—he had to watch over her!
Frey couldn't help remembering Sis sneaking out six months ago to fight Karkaroff's family head, Menilqued Karkaroff.
If old Mr. Karkaroff hadn't intervened, Frey thought his sister might have beaten the opponent to death.
Frey grabbed Lys's hem to prevent escape. "Sis... what exactly did Mr. Karkaroff do to make you so angry?"
Lys tried swatting away Frey's restraint. "Ha, plenty—going back over twenty years. When I have time, I'll tell you. Don't grip so tight..."
Frey paused with his broomstick, muttering "so many years ago..." but his reddened hand holding her hem didn't loosen:
"I won't ask, but where are you going? I'll take you. Draco's wedding is in a few days—if you're unwell then, you'll miss it! I don't want you to miss Draco's wedding..."
Draco's wedding would definitely have that pudding Sis often craved—missing it meant she'd complain for ages.
Seeing Frey's hesitation, Lys remembered he truly cared about Draco's wedding. Lucius had specially sent an invitation plus a personal letter—her absence would indeed be inappropriate.
In their conflicting thoughts, Lys compromised.
Taking Frey to her intended destination via Floo, broomstick, and boat.
She retrieved Regulus—yes, retrieved him.
Frey stood at this strange island's edge, remembering the Inferi encountered en route, his complexion still poor.
Too much time had passed. Those Inferi's clothes had severely decayed, but their white-filmed eyes remained open, reflecting the perpetual mist shrouding this sunless place.
Even though Sis said what they guarded was gone, even though their creator was dead, they remained trapped here.
With seawater, with the ocean floor as companions, they'd never again have a chance to reach the other shore.
In the murky, blackened seawater, those corpses were like soulless great fish, suddenly leaping from the sea, abnormally pale and glaring.
Until Lys used blood magic to find Regulus's remains from waters behind a cave, magically arranging them properly with a newspaper from over a year ago reporting the Dark Lord's death, saying they should leave, Frey finally recovered somewhat.
He now understood why his sister disliked the ocean and never ate fish...
He didn't want to eat fish anymore either...
Leaving, Frey held the remains Sis had him keep and a stone platform wrapped like a stone ball.
Halfway back by boat, Frey watched his sister stand and drip blood onto the sea surface.
An unimaginable number of corpses surged toward him and Sis like boiling water, terrifying him into freeing one hand to grip his sister's boat's gunwale, nearly tumbling directly into her boat.
Slapping Frey back to prevent him jumping into her boat, Lys sighed: "One boat, one person! More and it'll capsize!"
She could try replicating part of the Dark Lord's magic to confuse restrictions, but couldn't alter his magic.
If Frey dared switch boats, it would truly capsize.
Lys straightened, releasing Fiendfyre to burn the entire sea area around them.
Those Inferi caught black flames starting from arms reaching toward both boats, turning to ash.
In the dense black Fiendfyre, silver sparks scattered upward. The normally silent, consuming flames gradually carried a burning stench due to the surging Inferi.
This made Frey, already nauseous, completely unable to hold back—he hung over the gunwale retching thoroughly.
Seeing her brother's miserable state, Lys looked away.
Standing in the slightly swaying boat, she spun in place. Lys wore a tailored coat Noah had made specially for her, its hem lifting in small arcs.
Where her wand tip pointed, black flames covered the swarming pallor in the seawater. The scattered silver sparks blazed brighter, the stench licked clean by flame tips, but Frey seemed no better—still retching.
Watching the scene, Lys touched the armor on her left arm, her smile somewhat ambiguous.
"See, you gave your life, I endured so many years, but strangely, all our sacrifices couldn't match a brat's Disarming Charm. Dumbledore's portrait says it's because of love—I think that's bullshit!"
"I only recently sorted out those Horcruxes and little Potter's experiences. It was purely because Dumbledore's brain worked well enough, and ruthlessly enough..."
"Like you, he calculated himself into it."
Lys looked down at the bag containing Regulus's remains.
Really couldn't tell how these two ended up in different houses...
After all, in Lys's view, Regulus and Dumbledore were so alike.
Both once supported someone's cause so much, both tried to personally end that person's career.
Just one succeeded, one failed.
"You know... forget it..."
Lys ultimately didn't voice her question.
If they'd told Dumbledore—the only one who could suppress the Dark Lord—about the Horcrux immediately upon discovery, would the Dark Lord's shadow have ended twenty years ago?
Snorting, Lys knew there were no ifs. They couldn't blame Dumbledore for not trusting them—they hadn't trusted Dumbledore either.
Only passionate, hot-blooded children could complete Dumbledore's plan well...
Betray and overturn family honor and fundamental interests?
Sacrifice one's life, endangering friends and family?
Lys's wand continued stirring. She didn't know what Regulus would choose, but she knew she couldn't do it.
Human hearts were truly strange.
Brave yet cowardly.
Suddenly raising both arms, flames on the sea surface blazed higher with Lys's movement, even obscuring the sky overhead.
Accompanied by Lys's trembling breathing, she erased another bit of evidence that the Dark LordVoldemort had once existed.
But Lys knew clearly—what could be erased was no longer what she'd care about.
She knew that since beginning withdrawal from Stabilizing Draught addiction, her thoughts had been drilling into irreversible strange loops, knowing yet helpless.
"Sis!"
Frey retched while watching his sister acting wrong again, desperately searching his mind for diverting topics:
"Sis, let's go to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes later, retch..."
Lys lowered her armored left arm, looking at Frey helplessly.
"Aren't you giving Draco's wedding a fireworks show? Go research his wedding venue with Dad instead of constantly watching me..."
"Retch..."
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