Though slightly complaining, Lys also felt relieved when her repetitive chewing over memories was interrupted.
When the final two Inferi, moving turtle-slow due to rope bindings, were transformed into flames and disappeared into the air as rising silver starlight, Lys finally lowered her wand.
Even knowing that visiting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was just her brother's excuse, Lys still let him take her to Diagon Alley by broomstick.
Entering the Weasleys' joke shop, Lys immediately saw one-eared George and his brother Fred, who'd lost an eye.
They stood on the shop's suspended ladder, laughing at someone.
Frey remained half-dead from his earlier retching experience, clearly having zero desire to browse the shop. Lys greeted the two proprietors, releasing a streaming bird from her wand tip to signal she had business with them.
The brothers, who'd changed their nicknames to "Gred" and "Forge" after the war, saw a major customer arriving and immediately abandoned their exasperated younger brother to welcome Lys.
Ever since learning from their sister-in-law that the explosion nearly claiming Fred's life had been prevented by that Death Eater who'd made the papers—despite her injuries—they'd been extremely warm toward Lys.
Even knowing she'd primarily been saving Harry then, that innocent blood stained her hands.
But compared to other Weasley family attitudes, Fred and George's gratitude came from the soul.
"Oh! Forge!" George raised his hand in greeting.
"Oh! Gred!" Fred crossed his arms and bowed.
"Welcome, madam!"
Exchanging glances, they winked at Lys in unison.
Lys tapped her wand, unceremoniously pouring herself a cup of mint water from the brothers' counter for her brother. Ignoring Frey's frantic beard growth after drinking, she plopped onto a nearby sofa with relief—she was tired.
Actually, very tired. She felt listless and sleepy.
Resting her armored left arm on a cabinet, Lys asked: "I remember you bought a prosthetic eye from my alchemy shop. Doesn't it fit? You bought the premium product—my shop includes adjustment customization."
"As for this," said eye-patch-wearing Fred, "when our dear Gred is willing to wear Extendable Ears on his head, maybe I'll stuff that rolling marble into my skull."
George pretended to grab an enormous Extendable Ear sample model from a nearby shelf to clamp on his head.
"If that's the case, I'll have to ask dear Miss Lam to find a matching eyeball for our Forge, won't I?"
Lys laughed heartily. She liked these young men—every encounter with them was interesting.
After chatting briefly, Lys had them attend to business first. "I'll occupy your space to rest a bit. After I recover, I have a favor to ask."
Once Lys sank into the soft sofa, her eyelids grew heavy. She could only let them handle the increasing foot traffic while she rested.
The departing brothers saw Frey excitedly shrieking as rapidly growing whiskers buried him, acting dramatically surprised.
Then one cracked jokes while the other lightly tapped his wand, summoning a cup of strange-tasting water for the counter-curse.
Frey regretfully watched his rapidly retracting whiskers, pulling out his wallet to buy two large jars of Beard-Growing Mint Water and one large jar of Counter-Curse Strange Water, stuffing them in his waist pouch.
Hugging his wand while guarding his drowsy sister, Frey sat cross-legged beside a cage of Pygmy Puffs, studying them.
His breeding farm was built with Sis's borrowed money—he had to catch current fashion trends to earn it back quickly... But these tiny fluffballs had so little fur he couldn't even grip it, conflicting with his aesthetics...
He preferred big ones with lots of fur!
Until stars began twinkling outside and darkness fell, Lys finally threw off the blanket Frey had covered her with, yawning listlessly as she sat up.
Sitting unceremoniously among the Weasley brothers, Lys's red hair didn't look out of place at all. Only Frey seemed slightly constrained, being questioned about entry procedures by Hermione Weasley, current Assistant to the Minister for Magic.
"Smuggling. What of it? Mrs. Weasley curious?" asked the uncomfortable post-awakening Lys bluntly, reaching for the lunch box Frey handed her.
She still hadn't shed her patient status—she needed to maintain good spirits, eating and sleeping whenever necessary.
Hermione Weasley choked, citing immigration management regulations. Lys nodded while eating, completely ignoring what the other was saying.
Joking aside, since resuming business, Lys had frequently smuggled and sold contraband. Recently, she'd even exploited British magical society's preferential treatment toward half-bloods, trafficking spices, fabrics, jewelry, and such between wizards and Muggles, violating countless national wizarding regulations.
To silence the Ministry of Magic, she and the overseas Lucius had donated enough money for the Ministry to open another St. Mungo's branch.
Ministry of Magic management regulations? Your husband was a loyal Auror friend—hearing her admit to smuggling, what could he do?
Meanwhile, Ron Weasley carelessly continued tossing Ice Mice into his mouth, not noticing his wife's setback.
Hermione wasn't necessarily determined to pursue anything—just habitually wanting to be thorough when encountering issues.
Remembering Lys's identity and what Harry had later discussed with them, she also dropped the subject.
After alleviating her post-awakening discomfort, Lys discussed business with Fred and George: "The Malfoy family's son is getting engaged. I want to commission two batches of fireworks from you—not the troublesome kind, something interesting."
She set down her meal box, rummaging through her satchel, then Frey's, producing a small cluster of half-spent fireworks.
After igniting them, everyone present felt transported seeing Harry Potter's childish, winking, laughing face blooming across the ceiling, with brightly colored burning text below:
"Triwizard Tournament Champion~ Harry Potter!"
This firework was George and Fred's work from the Triwizard Tournament year.
"Like this—I think this was a freebie you gave me that year. Um... then I also want those big ones..."
"Mm, let me search a bit. There's too much stuff here—I haven't organized this bag in over two years."
Lys rummaged through her satchel, extending her entire arm inside, pulling a stack of photos from some corner. After confirming with Frey, she handed them to George.
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