Lys only had one Charms class in the morning, but her afternoon was packed with two classes: Ancient Runes and Potions.
The two classrooms were far apart—one on the eighth floor, the other in the dungeons. Lys decided to prepare all her materials after lunch to avoid being late.
But perhaps before lunch, she could visit the lily in the greenhouse and test out her new idea from Charms class.
She ran to the greenhouse to see the magical lily that Professor Sprout had cared for over the holiday, only to be disappointed.
It had bloomed.
The tune it hummed was the Scottish melody Professor Sprout often sang.
It was nothing like the first flower—not just in fragrance or appearance, but most importantly, it wasn't hers.
What's lost is lost. What reappears is never the same...
Lys felt a pang of sorrow, her grip on her wand tightening until her knuckles turned white.
Forcing a smile, she told Professor Sprout that her coursework this year was too heavy and she wouldn't be able to care for the lily anymore.
Under the professor's regretful gaze, Lys left the greenhouse and stood under the beech tree on the small hill. Raising her disguised hawthorn wand, she recalled the feeling of desperately wanting to hold on and began experimenting with her new magical idea.
A successful, complete piece of Dark Magic. Calmly assessing her emotions and the spell's effectiveness, Lys could once again declare, "It's not Dark Magic that clouds my mind."
Magic is just magic. Like the creatures used as teaching materials last year, the distinction between Dark and Light Magic is merely a classification by wizards. Only the Unforgivable Curses, in Lys's eyes, could truly be considered Dark Magic in a meaningful sense.
The wizards sent to Azkaban weren't imprisoned for using Dark Magic but for the harm they caused. A spell for chopping vegetables could be used to kill, while an eerie piece of Dark Magic could be used to provide shade—it all depends on the wizard's choice.
With this weight lifted from her heart, Lys regained some appetite and, unusually, ate two chicken legs and half a salad at the dining table.
During dessert, she picked up a pudding from nearby. She even had the energy to critique it, finding it too sweet and lacking the essence of the ingredients... the essence of the ingredients... Hmm...
As she savored the pudding, Lys began pondering what fleeting thought had just crossed her mind.
The side effects of her unstable magic began to distract her at this moment. The malice of others drifted her way, prompting Lys to impatiently glance over.
Tch, Severus Snape! Just as she was grasping a bit of inspiration, he had to disrupt her! Lys glared at him angrily, only to notice that his plate was clean—he hadn't eaten anything for lunch.
Unable to resist the gossiping habits she'd developed in her first two years, Lys followed Snape's gaze. Oh, my! That red-haired Evans girl was standing with that arrogant glasses-wearing boy, Potter. Though she was reprimanding Potter alongside the prefect, it must have been enough to sting Snape's heart!
Perhaps her schadenfreude was too obvious? Snape's dark gaze briefly met Lys's, then shifted to his plate before he left the table, looking utterly dejected.
What a forlorn figure. Tsk tsk, it seems the flower in his palm has finally fallen to the ground.
Lys mocked Snape, unaware that she had looked even more broken than him last year. Her sullen, terrifying appearance, with an unclear face and a frail frame, had even led some to describe her as a drug addict.
Now, though Snape looked unhealthy, his greasiness and pallor weren't sudden developments. Compared to Lys's state last year, he was a hundred times better.
Finishing her dessert, Lys patted Gobang on her shoulder, signaling it to switch to the other shoulder as her left one had grown sore. Checking her pocket watch, she decided to head to the Ancient Runes classroom early to review the material.
Sitting in the classroom, Lys once again felt the undeniable truth: she was illiterate.
Professor Babbling stood at the podium, explaining one incomprehensible language in another incomprehensible language.
Closing her mouth, which had been open in frustration, Lys lowered her head to flip through the Runic Dictionary that came with Ancient Runes Made Easy. Finding it equally incomprehensible, she turned to the Magical Phonetics Chart and began the arduous process of cross-referencing while listening, much like her first year at Hogwarts.
Few students chose this class, most of them Ravenclaws. There was even a younger student in the back observing the class to decide whether to take it next year.
Sighing, Lys shamelessly moved behind a diligent student who kept nodding and copied their neatly organized notes.
She had to learn it now that she'd chosen it. Her father had demanded better grades this year. No matter how difficult it was, could it be harder than History of Magic?
Potions class was even tougher. The complexity of this year's potions was worlds apart from last year's, with far more irregular steps. Fortunately, Lys's instincts remained sharp, allowing her to narrowly avoid disaster with each brew.
Now, there were no students remaking their potions—only a few top performers remained.
The best among them was Snape. His potion's earthy color and precisely rotten smell earned him ten points from Professor Slughorn.
By the end of class, only three bottles of potion had been submitted. Thus, only five students received grades: Snape, Evans, Lupin, Potter, and a borderline-passable Stalys Black.
Overall, Slughorn seemed satisfied. He even invited three of them to his Slug Club gathering.
"It's just a little relaxation with some of the excellent or promising students I've worked with. Yes, I look forward to seeing you all in the eighth-floor classroom on Friday evening." Slughorn chuckled, patting his belly.
Lys and Lupin crouched by the classroom sink, scrubbing cauldron stains left by dittany juice that resisted magical cleaning.
The water was too cold, and Lys's hands began to ache after a while. She wanted to give up but, knowing she'd need the cauldron for the next class, gritted her teeth and kept scrubbing.
Before Potions class, Lys had removed her ring and placed it in Gobang's lizard-skin pouch. Both successful and failed potions could be corrosive, which worried Lys greatly. She always stored it carefully before such activities.
Gobang, constantly shifting positions on Lys's shoulder, eventually settled into an odd pose: its lower body nestled in the pouch on Lys's chest while its upper body draped over her shoulder.
Just as Lys was about to finish scrubbing and looking forward to dinner, Lupin suddenly nudged her.
Startled, Lys stepped aside and asked, "What?"
Lupin, lost in thought and feeling uneasy about his own issues, hesitated for a long time before mustering the courage to get Lys's attention. However, her exaggerated reaction startled him.
Blushing, Lupin quickly lowered his head and scrubbed the cauldron vigorously, mumbling, "Nothing. My hand slipped."
Lys didn't believe him but couldn't figure out what was wrong. She moved to a faucet farther from Lupin and resumed scrubbing, mentally planning her schedule.
After dinner, she still needed to study the labradorite bracelet her mother had bought her. It carried a tricky curse effect—emotional disturbance—which caused magical
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