Chapter 67: Sixty-Seven

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She navigated her way through the excited and boisterous Gryffindors, her eyes catching sight of Snape seated next to Evans, his face as dark as a storm cloud. "What a sacrifice," Lys mused wryly to herself.

Just as she was about to reach the professors, the entire crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and groans.

The announcer's voice rang out, even louder than before:

"James Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker, has caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor scores 150 points and wins the match!"

Lys cast a brief glance at the arrogant, bespectacled boy celebrating below. Standing amidst the throng of people leaving the stands, she struggled to make her way toward the professors.

"Professor, Professor Sprout—" she called out, but it was too late. The professors, seeing the match end, had already begun leaving in small groups, their expressions ranging from disappointment to lingering excitement.

Buffeted by the Gryffindor crowd, Lys had no choice but to retreat to a corner, deciding to wait until the crowd thinned before heading back to the castle.

She rubbed her sore left arm and adjusted Gubang on her shoulders. Finally, when the crowd had dispersed to just a few stragglers, Lys prepared to leave, only to catch a familiar whiff of potion—a scent unmistakably tied to Snape.

"Your potion will be ready in two days," Snape said, mistaking Lys's glance as a question. Turning to Evans, he added, "Black asked me to brew some reserve potions for her."

Evans, seemingly uninterested, offered Lys a polite smile before preparing to leave. Snape, however, followed after her, calling, "Lily, Lily!"

Wanting nothing more than for the pair to vanish from her sight, Lys lowered her head, focusing on the tip of Gubang's tail in an attempt to quiet the pounding pain in her head.

"Hey! Lily Evans, don't rush off! What's so fun about hanging out with Snivellus? Why not join us this weekend instead?" Sirius Black sauntered out from the stairwell, his gait deliberately exaggerated.

He tossed his slightly wavy black hair and smirked. "Snivellus, stop clinging to Lily like a pathetic leech. Garbage is garbage. Even under the sunlight, you're still filthy and reeking, your stench all the more obvious!"

Before Snape could respond, Sirius sneered again, "Snivellus, this isn't your greasy little dungeon. Potter has something to say to Evans today, so you'd better know your place!"

Sitting quietly in the corner, Lys wrinkled her nose. She must still be mourning the Singing Lily she never got to see bloom. Otherwise, why would she still catch its fragrance—so calming, so soothing?

Wait. No. There was singing. Gentle, distant, tinged with sorrow...

Lys's head snapped up. Below the stands, James Potter was flying upward on his broomstick. His wand was tucked into his waistband, and in his hand was a lily. He halted midair before Lily Evans.

Running a hand through his hair to make it even messier, he declared, "The beautiful flower of Gryffindor, Miss Lily Evans, accept this flower! Would you do me the honor of spending the next Hogsmeade weekend with me?"

Lys inhaled sharply, unable to register anything Potter said after that. The flower in his hand—its leaves bore familiar insect bites, and its petals shimmered with a unique glow. That flower, which once hummed soothing, relaxing tunes, was now sorrowful, lamenting. Her Singing Lily! And now it was grieving, in the hands of that insufferable James Potter!

She had failed to protect it!

Ignoring Snape's livid expression and Sirius's smug grin, Lys raised her wand. With her left hand, she dug her nails into her right palm, drawing blood that she smeared onto the wand. She cast the most vicious curse she knew.

Caught completely off guard, Potter plummeted from his broomstick, slamming into the railing before tumbling off the stands.

The lily in his hand slipped from his grasp, teetering precariously on the edge of the stands.