Chapter 80: Eighty

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Without Snape's guidance, Lys's progress in studying the books her father had given her had ground to a halt.

Sometimes, she couldn't help but sneak a glance at Snape and Evans—not out of concern, of course, but purely for gossip.

Snape's days were growing increasingly bleak. Malfoy had elevated his rank within Slytherin slightly, but it didn't seem like he was receiving any real favor.

Previously, when he and Lily Evans spent time together, they always chose neutral locations and times. But now, things had changed. He frequently went to Gryffindor to find Evans, and it seemed the "Gryffindor flower" no longer treated him as warmly as she once did. This gave the Slytherins who disliked him even more ammunition to mock him.

He looked disheveled, and after being taunted and attacked by those four Gryffindors, he ended up in the hospital wing.

Lys, holding her wand low and clutching her books, passed by the group without even glancing at them. She overheard Sirius muttering through clenched teeth, "One day..." Lys didn't even bother to turn her head.

She maintained her habit of reading newspapers in the common room, keeping herself informed about the outside world.

A wizard's lifespan stretches over a century, and school lasts only seven years. If she ever got the chance to venture out after graduation, she figured it would be wise to know a bit about the world.

While engrossed in the gossip section, Lys heard the grating laughter of the Carrows.

She didn't know how they managed it, but their laughter sounded like the croaking of toads from the Black Lake—the kind even Gobble wouldn't eat, big and ugly. Hagrid had mentioned that during school holidays, he would hunt some to feed the owls.

Now, Lys felt like grabbing those two by the mouths, just like squeezing a toad. Enough with the laughter—it was unbearable.

"A filthy half-blood," they sneered. Ugh, the same old insult. Couldn't they come up with anything new?

"...a perfect match... those foolish Gryffindor lions dug up his past, cheap birthday gifts..." Birthday gifts? He even received gifts for his birthday?

"...worthless trash... Malfoy's taste..." Ah, so the final target was actually Malfoy or Senior Narcissa. After all, it seemed they were set to marry once she graduated.

Snape, the subject of their mockery, stood there awkwardly, trying to maintain his composure.

Back when they were still studying together in that abandoned classroom, Snape had even managed to modify some of the spells in the books himself. Such a brilliant mind, now reduced to standing there, enduring ridicule?

And that other Slytherin, Barty Crouch, who was often mentioned alongside Snape and Lys as one of the "Three Oddities of Slytherin," clearly took offense. He was already highly reactive to the idea of a Slytherin associating with a Gryffindor, and when he heard the word "Mudblood," he nearly exploded. With an arrogant and fanatical tone, he began preaching about the importance of bloodlines, even waving a newspaper around. The whole scene reeked of something off.

Well, it seemed Snape was running short on money. Lys had always wondered where he got the materials for his potion experiments, but it was clear he was now looking for ways to earn some. Turning a corner, she saw him handing a bottle of pink potion to a Slytherin senior who clearly looked down on him, in exchange for a pouch of coins.

Lys thought for a long time, feeling the scene was oddly familiar, but she couldn't recall what kind of potion it was. And then, Snape noticed her.

"What are you doing here?!"

Passing by! Why did it feel like she was caught spying?

"Nothing. Um, here, take this," Lys suddenly remembered the potion purchase list she had stuffed into her knitting pouch.

"I'm not sure, but you can check it out."

Snape's "What's wrong with you?" expression made Lys a bit flustered.

She really hadn't meant to eavesdrop!

"Uh... it's for your, um, potion thing," she stammered, her habit of babbling nonsense when caught red-handed clearly unchanged.

Snape glanced at the parchment, as if he wanted to snatch it and examine it further, but then he squinted at Lys suspiciously. "No."

"Alright then." Lys, whose mind was solely focused on leaving, didn't even hear what Snape said. She grabbed his sleeve, stuffed the list into it, and turned to leave.

She still had an unfinished sweater, a singing vase, the Patronus Charm, those books, essays, and Gobble's upcoming molting to deal with. There was so much to do.

Her spellcasting progress had hit a plateau, which made Lys even more anxious. Every time she woke up in the middle of the night or early morning, she felt like smashing that vase! Yet, during those moments, her progress with her father's spells seemed to accelerate, as if...

Lys reluctantly drank two bottles of magic stabilizers, though they didn't seem to work very well.

She began pondering what conditions might favor successful spellcasting. Her conclusion? An explosive desire to destroy and vent.

Realizing this left Lys at a loss. After all, she had just mocked Dumbledore for saying, "It's not dark magic that clouds my mind," only to discover that a more agitated state of mind indeed made dark magic flow more smoothly. This...

Sitting at her desk in the early morning hours, Lys stared at the book, her thoughts spinning in circles. It wasn't until Gobble nudged her leg that she snapped out of it. She placed Gobble on the desk, stretched him out, and examined his skin. It wasn't quite time for him to molt yet.

Her thoughts kept circling back. Her father wanted her to excel, and her mother wanted her to prove she wasn't insane.

So, these dark magic books wouldn't make her crazy.

Her mother had always had eyes only for her father. Surely, the requirements she set wouldn't contradict her father's teachings. And her father had mentioned that her mother was a powerful witch. Running a shop in Knockturn Alley for so many years certainly proved that. So, where was she going wrong?

Where?

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