"...What remains unknown is that Severus Snape, a Death Eater who later became Dumbledore's spy, could actually cast the Patronus Charm—a spell only those with love and light in their hearts can produce. According to our Golden Boy's own words during the great battle, this Patronus took the same form as his mother's, and when they were still children..."
Frey's expression remained blank, his tone wooden, only his eyes holding a trace of pity as he watched Professor Snape, petrified by his sister's spell, and forced himself to finish the last sentence.
"Perhaps we never paid attention to the deepest tenderness within an oily and gloomy Potions Master's heart."
Setting down the newspaper, he felt he'd never again have the chance to study potions and spells at the Professor's home...
He sighed and tried persuading: "Sigh... Sis, let's release the Professor and go back to rest. That doctor said this could damage your lifespan."
At this moment, Lys was clutching her ribs, wanting to laugh but afraid of triggering her injuries, breathing through gritted teeth.
Hearing Frey's words, she thought for a moment then told him: "Wait, wait..." Lys took a breath and hesitated, "I still have something I want to discuss with Severus."
Lys glanced around, pointing to a chair for Frey to sit, even pulling out some butterbeer fudge for him...
Frey sighed. When would Sis stop treating him like a child? He was almost seventeen!
After watching Frey sit down with Gabon, Lys turned toward Snape, the smile and mirth in her face and eyes vanishing completely.
"Severus, I'm sorry for intruding on your privacy. I also saw those memories you gave the Savior. But now Potter is still alive, which makes me very uneasy—it makes me constantly feel that the thorns that once buried me still have seeds remaining in this world."
The petrified Snape could only move his eyes, having no idea what he was thinking upon hearing this.
"If..."
If that seed truly remained, Lys couldn't guarantee to anyone whether Harry Potter would still exist in this world after some time.
Snape didn't miss the flash of ruthlessness in Lys's eyes. He roughly understood what she wanted to say.
Lys clutched her ribs and hunched over as she stood up.
"It's laughable—my Death Eater identity and past wrongs have been lightly set aside. So have yours. Listen to those newspapers—our misdeeds are covered up, ignored... Severus, I should be happy. This means my life can start over, and you can focus on your potions and magic research. But I can't be happy."
"Wrongs committed are wrongs committed. I want to make amends, but their souls must ultimately cross to the other side—that's suffering I brought to others that I can never repay, delivered by my own hands. The very thing I once hated most: suffering."
"You were forced."
Gabon wasn't wearing its collar or magic vial—its playful petrification effect was weakening.
Snape struggled to squeeze out his next words: "You're not like us. We once delivered others' suffering like currency to the Dark Lord in exchange for what we needed. You took nothing and even resisted, didn't you?"
"Perhaps... but the result is the same... I'm equally detestable, Severus..."
"If I hadn't been unable to solve Frey being targeted by the Dark Lord, I was going mad—I might not have done those things, intercepting Death Eaters and saving people..."
Lys slowly straightened and skirted around that topic. Grindelwald had said that right and wrong would be judged after the fact.
Regardless of her original motives, she had ultimately done those things... whether good or bad.
She slowly shuffled toward the door, beginning to complain:
"I'm almost forty, and I have to pin my hopes on that arrogant glasses-wearing man's son not disappointing me. How utterly ridiculous."
Snape watched Lys move like a decrepit old woman and couldn't help asking:
"Who beat you up this badly?"
Of course, if anyone had visited Snape or provided him newspapers, he wouldn't have asked this.
Unfortunately, the newspaper Frey had just read was the only outside information he'd received since that bald doctor mentioned the Dark Lord's death.
"Fought the Dark Lord and got blasted away." Lys succinctly explained her injury's source.
Ignoring Snape's slightly narrowed eyes, she continued with emotional agitation, complaining about something else:
"I! Cough! Honed my magical power for over a decade! Runic spells! Plus Fiendfyre! Cough!Fiendfyre modified by Dumbledore and Grindelwald! Couldn't match that brat's single Disarming Charm! Cough cough cough! ...Getting beaten this badly is absolutely humiliating! Cough..."
Before Lys could finish complaining, Frey, chewing candy, quickly jumped up to stop her. He'd heard her complain about this several times over the past two days.
Every time she complained, Lys got very agitated.
And after getting agitated, Lys would be listless for a long time...
He skillfully comforted Lys, helping wipe away the blood spots she'd coughed up, then awkwardly bid farewell to Professor Snape.
He sincerely hoped Professor Snape wouldn't hold reading the newspaper to him against him.
He was forced into it—if he didn't read it, Sis might be disappointed! Sis had to maintain good spirits!!
Before leaving the room, Lys looked at Snape with confusion. "Don't you have anything to say?"
Not protecting Evans's son anymore? Didn't understand what she'd said?
"Release my petrification." However, Snape only impatiently made this request.
With Frey's support, Lys shuffled toward the door, ignoring Snape.
She was somewhat disappointed. So after paying the price of a life for that boy and experiencing the weight of that cost, Snape's youthful obsession had vanished?
But Snape behind her simply closed his eyes silently. When Lys finally reached the door, he spoke:
"I revealed that prophecy, causing Lily's death. That's what I owe myself and Lily. That child with Lily's eyes... hmph."
Snape seemed to think of something and snorted coldly. "He's a child taught by Dumbledore. This will be the last time I trust him."
Lys's outstretched hand paused. She didn't ask whether he meant Dumbledore or little Potter, then withdrew her left hand—which had destroyed quite a few things these past days—and directed Frey to open the door:
"That boy looks like his father and has his personality too. At such an important moment, fighting and still wanting to poke at people's pain points—I could guess you wouldn't like him."
Snape's another cold snort answered her.
Hearing this, Lys rolled her eyes at the Auror pretending to be deaf beside the open door. Lys's request to see Potter had long been passed up through the Aurors at the door.
But whether due to Lys's poor health or Potter's currently sensitive status, Lys still hadn't been able to see little Potter.
Here, Lys leaned on Frey's shoulder, urging those Aurors to let her see Potter as soon as possible:
"Think about it—if you don't let me see Potter while my injuries are still severe and I'm still weak, won't you worry when I've recovered and we meet then?"
The nearby Auror silently kept nodding, while the other Auror responsible for Snape responded: "I'll report your request upward as soon as possible."
Watching that terrifying witch being supported back to her room by her brother, both Aurors agreed she made sense, but...
They were just messengers—they didn't know what their superiors were thinking.
Lys's request to see Harry Potter was not approved.
The Ministry of Magic even tried to take Lys away for questioning.
But the bald chief physician refused:
"You can take the one next door but not this one! Do you even know what her injuries from the Dark Lord mean?!"
So before seeing Harry Potter, Lys met the Ministry of Magic's Minister—Kingsley Shacklebolt, whom Dumbledore had recommended for the position while still alive.
Originally they'd hoped to bring Lys to the Ministry of Magic for procedural reasons.
Not for interrogation or conviction.
But that chief physician was extremely insistent—he absolutely would not allow Lys to leave her room by more than fifty steps!
Fifty steps!
He even made time to check on the special care rooms, preventing any patients from being taken away without his knowledge.
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