"Just them? You must be joking, Evans! This..."
Lys pulled her right hand out of the brace.
"They have the ability to achieve that? Don't make me laugh. No matter what, I'm far better than a bunch of arrogant fools who only know how to show off, aren't I?"
To prevent the knitted fabric of her sleeve from sticking to her wounds after bleeding, Lys's right arm was bare. The red wounds, gaping open like a baby's mouth, revealed flesh and blood. There were even more than a dozen such wounds on her pale arm.
"I did this to myself. So don't plaster such unearned glory onto Potter and his gang!"
Behind the tree, Severus Snape watched as Lily disdainfully cast a Levitation Charm to pull a few soaked Gryffindors out of the water. He glanced back at the retreating figure of Lys Black.
Always alone, always chased by something, always running forward. It must be hard for her brain, filled with instincts and muscle memory, to keep up.
But perhaps he could try something for those wounds. It would be a good opportunity to test the applicability of some of his spells.
In the Slytherin common room, Snape blocked Lys, who was holding two books and munching on a chicken leg, and made his proposal: a treatment involving appropriate Dark Magic, something the Hospital Wing wouldn't use.
"Your arm makes spellcasting inconvenient. I have some ideas and potions I'd like to experiment with. You could also use my hand to cast any spells you want to try," Snape suggested.
Lys pondered for a moment. "I wasn't in the right state of mind at the time. I don't even know what my intent was when I cast those spells, and there isn't even a trace of magical residue. Yet the wounds just won't heal. If you're confident, then give it a shot."
After downing four or five potions and enduring two or three spells, the wounds remained stubbornly unchanged.
Snape brushed aside the hair obscuring his vision, crossed his arms, and stroked his chin in thought.
"It's not caused by magical creatures, nor is there any Dark Magic residue. It even looks like wounds that could be caused by a simple Cutting Curse..."
Lys didn't respond. She rummaged through her pocket, pulled out some cookies baked by house-elves, and stuffed one into her mouth. Noticing Snape's look of disdain, she blinked and offered him a cookie as well.
When he refused with a scornful glance, she withdrew her hand and popped the cookie into her own mouth.
"You don't have to look at me like that. It's just a cookie." Brushing off the crumbs that had fallen on her chest, Lys complained about Snape's disdainful gaze.
Lys had recently realized something. Although she still sought her mother's attention, she was no longer the child waiting for survival resources to be allocated when her mother was at a loss.
She could now meet her own needs.
Jumping onto the podium, Lys dared not dwell further on her thoughts, sensing that her mind was treading a dangerous path.
She longed for her mother's attention and recognition. Even though she could achieve more and gain more, she still wished her mother would look at her, just as she had when she was a child.
Snape tried a few more spells, but the wounds remained unchanged, showing no signs of healing.
Seeing Snape's discomfort with the results, Lys gestured for him not to worry about the details.
"Have you considered the possibility of a curse?" Snape asked.
Placing her arm back into the brace, Lys nodded. "I've suspected it might be a curse. After all, I wasn't in the right state of mind at the time and might have gone too far. If that's the case, I'll need a top-tier counter-curse."
"Regardless of the experiment, thank you for caring about my pain."
Lys nodded at the pensive Snape before leaving the classroom.
One of the potions had been a pain reliever. The taste brought back childhood memories—how familiar it was. During her time at St. Mungo's, it had been almost like her food and drink.
Behind her, Snape watched Lys's retreating figure. This girl treated everyone without connection equally, showing neither pity nor blame. From weakness to strength, indulgent yet disciplined, even if her mind was filled with instincts and muscle memory, she still deserved respect.
Lys, however, paid little attention to her arm. Madam Pomfrey had mentioned that Dumbledore was looking into a solution. The greatest white wizard of the century—couldn't he handle the handiwork of a teenage girl?
The lack of progress thus far simply meant it wasn't a priority.
The newspapers reported that two members of the Order of the Phoenix had been killed by Death Eater attacks, and two Muggle villages had been massacred. How could a Slytherin girl, who was destined not to belong to his faction, compare in importance?
Lys got out of bed, extinguished the flames in her cauldron, and felt the cold air and the sting in her left arm. Was it snowing?
Today was a Hogsmeade day. Lys planned to visit the Hog's Head Inn to find a middleman and buy some supplies. However, her arm was still in its current state, showing no improvement, which meant she couldn't provide adequate protection for herself in that pub.
To be safe, Lys decided to spend a bit more money and get some essentials from the apothecary for her experiments. She could make larger purchases next time.
Clumsily changing into her clothes, she draped the fur cloak Hagrid had given her last year over her shoulders, covering her brace and wand. Lys stepped out of the school gates.
Walking in the snow was exhausting, especially since Lys was tall and one of her arms was restrained, making it hard to maintain balance.
Gripping her wand, she assessed her magical reserves and control. Following Professor Flitwick's teachings, she made her magic work for her.
The snow in front of her parted, revealing a foot-wide path. Holding her wand, Lys was contemplating the nuances of magical control and transformation when she felt something odd behind her—a chattering noise.
Turning around, she saw a group of third-year Hufflepuffs neatly following the path she had cleared. The boy leading the group even nodded in thanks.
After taking a few more steps, Lys couldn't resist looking back again. The children's eyes sparkled with admiration, filled with "Wow, that's amazing!"
Seeing the impressive and generous senior looking back again, the boy quickly stepped forward to strike up a conversation.
"Senior, senior! You're amazing! Are you a seventh-year?"
"Call me senior sister~ I'm a fifth-year Slytherin." Lys revealed her house early, hoping those who wanted to distance themselves would do so.
"Wow, you're so tall and amazing! My sister is a sixth-year, but she's short and useless!"
Lys rolled her eyes. Hufflepuff students excelled in Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, but when it came to spells, while there were exceptions, they were rare.
"Study hard, and you can be amazing too," she replied perfunctorily, continuing her journey.
The boy chattered all the way to Hogsmeade, with Lys responding half-heartedly.
When they arrived, the boy organized his classmates to bow politely to Lys as a gesture of gratitude.
Though she had inadvertently looked after a group of kids, it felt surprisingly good.
Lys adjusted her wand and cloak before entering the apothecary. The shopkeeper informed her that her items would be ready in the afternoon.
Lys left the shop and found a small tavern to sit in, listening to the gossip and chatter. After finishing a glass of hot milk, she rummaged through her pockets. She remembered putting two books in this coat last time.
Unable to find them, she thought about her dwindling supply of quills and notebooks. She decided to head to the stationery shop to stock up on some notebooks and quick-quill pens.
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