Chapter 64: The Aftermath of a Horrifying Tale

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Thunder cracked across the sky, and an image from the research notes suddenly flashed through Lys Black's mind—a body dissected and struck by lightning, all for some trivial piece of knowledge the experimenter sought.

She shook her head vigorously, trying to shift her focus to something mundane, like what might be new on tonight's dinner menu.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be pumpkin. From the very first day she tasted it at school, Lys had disliked its flavor and texture.

But distraction was hard to come by. Just as she thought of baked sausages with tomatoes, her mind conjured up images of unidentified organs soaking in solution.

Frustrated, she pulled out a tiny book from her robes and began reading. It was a magical book, one that relied on intuitive understanding.

Next to her, a Hufflepuff student noticed this disheveled witch with hair so messy it covered her eyes and ears. She was nodding solemnly at times and tilting her head in occasional contemplation.

When the train arrived, Lys didn't bother thanking her waterproofing charm or drying spell. Instead, she quickly joined her housemates and stuck close to them, refusing to stray.

Slytherins were terrifying! And just as someone was about to glare at the person who scared their housemate, Earle Eybore recognized it was Lys and quickly averted his gaze.

He explained to the younger students, "Oh, that's Stalys Black from Slytherin. She's nice, but if you're scared, just don't get too close. And remember, that snake of hers is venomous. It's tame, but absolutely don't touch it, understood?"

Sitting at the Slytherin table, Lys continued reading her book. She only glanced at the Sorting Ceremony occasionally. If there were whispers, she'd look up to assess; if not, it meant there wasn't much historical baggage to note.

The seating rules at the Slytherin table weren't strictly by year but by ability and status.

Severus Snape sat at the front, likely due to Malfoy's support before his graduation. Talent was an investment, and in the face of benefits, bloodline meant little.

Even so, Snape still wore that perpetually sullen expression, as if attending the opening feast was a waste of his life.

The feast began after Headmaster Dumbledore introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and gave a brief five-minute speech.

But Lys couldn't bring herself to eat. The images from that experimental record kept flashing before her eyes.

In the end, she barely ate half a chicken leg and slipped away to her dormitory during the school song.

Placing Cracker, her snake, on the bed, she went to the washroom to check her reflection. A pale face, dark circles, and eye bags under her hair—all signs that her physical and mental state deserved a failing grade.

After organizing her belongings, Lys glanced at her timetable and frowned. So many classes this year!

She restored all the books in her trunk to their original size and arranged them on the shelf. When the shelf proved too small, she stacked the rest on her desk.

Sighing, she thought she might catch a glimpse of the photo on her dad's desk, but she hadn't even set foot home this holiday.

She sorted through her wardrobe and realized she'd forgotten to buy sweaters. The one Earle had gifted her was now far too small.

But that was fine. She'd heard they could visit Hogsmeade Village this year. Her mom had given her some money, along with a few Galleons from Narcissa during her first year.

A wizarding village—surely they'd sell sweaters there.

Slytherin had produced three gloomy figures: Severus Snape, Stalys Black, and Barty Crouch. These three were downright peculiar.

According to Lestrange, one had maxed out his talents in Potions but had negative emotional intelligence and was a despicable half-blood. Another was a bookworm who carried a snake everywhere and kept her face hidden. And the last was a fanatical pure-blood supporter who should've been a Ravenclaw by lineage.

It was absurd. Even as a generational Slytherin, Lestrange wasn't that obsessive!

The start of the term was uneventful. Aside from minor squabbles due to increasing house rivalries, things remained relatively peaceful.

Lys prepared some spices and, with no classes that afternoon, slipped into Hagrid's hut. As always, Hagrid was openly critical of her Slytherin robes.

"Lys, if I hadn't known you for half a year, I'd never let a Slytherin into my house."

Lys had heard this countless times and paid it no mind. She handed over the cookies she'd prepared and stood by Hagrid's large cauldron, lighting the fire with a spell to start stewing the meat.

Hagrid was taking it to his 'friend,' though Lys never asked who that friend might be.

Cracker slithered over to the cage, inspecting its meals for the next month. Hagrid rarely saw the lazy snake move. Watching its alternating side patterns ripple as it crawled, he chuckled, "Lys, your snake looks like a Flobberworm!"

Lys ignored him. How could he mock Cracker like that? Even if Cracker resembled a worm, it was the most beautiful worm ever.

This big guy, who only liked large, intimidating creatures, would never understand.

After the stew was ready, Hagrid looked at the sky, then at Lys's pale complexion. He ladled out a bowl for her.

"You're too thin, and you don't look well. You need to eat properly. Don't be like those girls who… what's the word… diet, yes, that's it." He muttered something else and handed her two green fruits. "You're not even as heavy as this pot of stew."

But his words made Lys gag. The section in the research notes about how temperature affected magical circulation in wizards resurfaced in her mind.

"Urgh…"

Under Hagrid's concerned gaze, Lys took the two green fruits and returned to the castle.

There was Astronomy class tonight, focusing on star charting—one of Lys's strengths. Adjusting the telescope and observing the wondrous celestial bodies helped banish those haunting images from her mind.

Awakened in the middle of the night, Lys's thoughts were filled with, "Did they not plan to keep you until they knew you were a wizard?"

And those images from the notes. She checked the time and got up, carrying Cracker to the common room.

At this hour, the common room was empty. Staring at the ever-burning fireplace, her expression was somber. Her rust-red hair, under the shadows, resembled dried blood spreading across her face, obscuring her features.

Suppressing her thoughts, she sipped water mixed with a magical stabilizer and opened a book on the Patronus Charm.

By dawn, as students began heading out for classes, Lys returned to prepare for her Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.

Last year's teacher, who had a unique perspective on Slytherins, had encountered a group of dark wizards during his travels and was still recovering at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

This year's professor seemed interesting. He often emphasized practice over theory, which Lys appreciated. Perhaps this year she could secure an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Please turn to page 109, 'The Practical Advantages and Disadvantages of the Shield Charm.'"

As part of the first group to successfully cast the spell, Lys earned Slytherin five points. Her spell strength surpassed most of her classmates, gaining another three points.

But she lost one point for failing to answer the professor's question.

Her book was missing pages, so she had no idea what the professor was talking about.