Chapter 19: Injured Snape

A few days later, Lys went to return her homework and borrow "A Compendium of Common Spells" from the library.

Professor Flitwick had become serious about her Charms grades. Now her essays covered more basic content, simpler than her classmates'. The professor even asked students sitting near Lys to keep an eye on her.

After class, Potter and Sirius Black mocked her mercilessly: "Gutter trash! Why don't you go back to your slum? Maybe you're not even a real wizard. You'd be better off picking coins from the gutter - might even afford some new clothes!"

Pointing to her head at those idiots who could only laugh, Lys glanced at the frowning Lily Evans and Snape before darting behind Professor Flitwick in the corridor. She leapt onto a moving staircase as it detached from the floor, escaping to another level.

Flipping through the spell compendium, Lys struggled to understand the differences between the Severing Charm, Reductor Curse, and Blasting Curse, though the book categorized them differently.

She pondered: Aguamenti is a Conjuring Spell, but where does the water come from? Where do things go when vanished by Scourgify? Why are the wand movements for Incendio and the Blasting Curse so similar?

Clutching the spell book, she gazed at the Great Hall's ceiling, where candles flickered beneath the magically overcast sky. It always made her legs ache, feeling like snow was imminent.

Waving to El at the Hufflepuff table, she sat down to eat. Swatting away flying bats, she noticed Prefect Malfoy patting Snape's shoulder as he passed.

Lys could guess why. In recent Potions classes, Professor Slughorn had praised Snape's talent, his mustache quivering with enthusiasm.

Before dinner ended, the once-ignored boy in Slytherin was now surrounded by first-years and even approached by older students. He responded to all with a haughty nod.

Lys mused silently. Now she was the only outcast in Slytherin. But it wasn't too bad - unsure of her connection to Narcissa Black, Malfoy's fiancée, no one dared verbally abuse her as they once did Snape.

Lys longed to tear into the massive roast chicken on the table, but observing her elegant tablemates, she regretfully left it intact. She decided to learn the Severing Charm next - surely a neatly cut piece would be acceptable to eat.

Back in the common room, Lys avoided her dormitory. Greengrass would barge in, complain loudly while noisily rearranging things, then leave without closing the door. Irritating.

So Lys preferred the common room, reading discarded newspapers when alone.

Sprawled on a corner sofa, struggling with newspaper vocabulary, she heard the stone door open. Peering over the sofa back, she saw Snape limping in, clutching his shoulder.

Not noticing Lys in the dim room, he settled by the fireplace, producing a glass vial. After several failed attempts to pour its contents, he angrily flung it away.

Snape peeled back his robe, revealing a raw, bleeding abrasion on his shoulder. Lys winced at the sight. She retrieved the discarded vial - it smelled of diluted dittany. She fetched her own essence of dittany, given by Madam Pomfrey after her near-blinding incident, and offered it to Snape.

"Use it sparingly, there's not much left. Was it that arrogant glasses boy and the pompous dog again? I avoid them now. I bet they're just after Evans' beauty and targeting you. Their behavior is more like dark wizards."

Snape, face gloomy, eyed the crystal vial and this classmate who fared worse than him in Slytherin. Noting her nicknames for his tormentors, he finally accepted, "I'll repay you."

"Alright. Need help with your back?" Without waiting for consent, Lys pulled down his robe and applied the essence. Snape hissed, arching forward like a shrimp. "Has your brain been invaded by knotgrass? Did you eat salted eggs without washing your hands?"

Lys recalled awkwardly - she had, praising the novel salt-baked eggs she'd never tried before.

Awkwardness hung between them: Snape, half-shouldered, leaning forward; Lys, hand outstretched towards his pale, thin shoulder.

This was the scene Narcissa encountered upon entering - a glaring, dark-haired, pale boy and an androgynous pursuer tearing at clothes. "Tsk, mind the impression you're making," she coolly remarked after several glances.

Lys awkwardly held back until Snape finished treating his reachable areas and returned the vial.

She watched regretfully as Snape, adjusting his clothes, grumbled, "Troll-brain full of knotgrass. Surprising she even knew to use dittany essence!" before rushing to his dormitory.

Holding the nearly empty dittany vial and Snape's discarded bottle, Lys hoped he'd remember to repay her generously.

He was like the wizard with the hairy heart and hopping cauldron that Herpo met on his journey, wasn't he? Lys hesitated - perhaps not. That wizard chose to remain by the sea, not following Herpo to the final fertile land.