Chapter 86

On a Sunday afternoon, Lys was perched on a beech tree, engrossed in a book about the Patronus Charm.

Down the slope, a group of senior girls appeared. They conjured a yellow checkered picnic blanket with magic, spread it out, and began chatting.

"I've already messed up my O.W.L.s. Doesn't matter—my mom doesn't care. Once I graduate, I'll marry into a pure-blood family in Germany," one of them said nonchalantly.

"Same here," another chimed in. "My dad found me a decent husband, so he insists I get at least two 'Outstanding' grades. But that man... he seems a bit old."

After lamenting their less-than-ideal marriage prospects, the seniors moved on to complain about their hairstyles. One of them pulled out a book titled The Trendy Hair Guide.

"This book was fine last year, but it feels outdated now. Does anyone want it? I don't need it anymore." Naturally, none of the girls, too proud to accept something declared outdated, made a move for it.

Just as the girls were wrapping up their tea time, Lys jumped down from the tree and pointed at the book. "Excuse me, could I have that book?" she asked.

The senior with the lovely curls glanced at Lys in surprise, shrugged, and left the book on the ground. After tidying up their trash and lifting the preservation charms with a few household spells, the girls departed.

The book, filled with colorful illustrations, showcased handsome men and beautiful women demonstrating various hair-related spells and potions.

Lys carried the book back to her dormitory's washroom. Looking into the mirror, she saw her own slightly curly, rusty-red hair sticking up messily, much like James Potter's unruly mop.

Determined to try one of the spells, she first practiced on the tassels of the curtain. Satisfied with the results, she turned the wand on her own hair.

But casting spells on herself proved far more challenging than on inanimate objects. Unable to aim properly, Lys ended up trimming and fixing repeatedly.

The bad news: her hair was now less than three fingers long.

The good news: with hair that short, even if it stuck up, it no longer resembled that arrogant Gryffindor's hairstyle.

Pleased with the outcome, she flipped through the book again and found a potion called "Instant Sleek Hair Serum." The model with long hair tossed her locks dramatically, and in an instant, her hair settled into a smooth, shiny, perfectly styled look. Impressive. But then Lys noticed the fine print—Potter family invention. Hah! It looked so unnatural, so fake!

She tossed the book into her toiletries basket, uninterested in it anymore.

Glancing at her reflection, Lys suddenly regretted cutting her hair. Her pale face, gaunt cheeks, and large eyes with dark circles made her look as if she were suffering from some illness.

In truth, she was merely eating poorly, sleeping badly, and overburdened by the thoughts in her head.

She rummaged through her pockets and found a lunchbox packed by the house-elves. Taking a few bites, she decided to bake Hagrid's rock-hard biscuits during the free evening before Astronomy class.

This time, Lys added even more of those berries, making the biscuits even harder than the last batch. They were so solid that not a single crumb fell when scraped with a knife.

And the aroma—oh, the aroma! It was so strong that it wafted through the bag.

As she walked out of the castle, Lys spotted Dumbledore standing by the Great Hall entrance, smiling as he watched a few Hufflepuff badgers exchanging food and toys.

When Lys passed by, Dumbledore gave her a few curious glances. "Ah, the house-elves mentioned a little Slytherin girl who loves cooking. That must be you, Lys. They adore you, you know. That bundle of yarn you gave them brought them joy throughout the holidays."

He glanced at her briefly as he spoke, but his eyes soon fixated on the bag of biscuits, as if intensely curious about its contents.

Out of politeness, Lys opened the bag to let Dumbledore try one. Before she could warn him about their hardness, he popped one into his mouth.

The loud crunch startled Lys. The Slytherins often joked in the common room that Dumbledore must be a hundred years old. What if he broke a tooth?

"This is... for Hagrid," Lys stammered. "He likes them a bit on the hard side."

Dumbledore covered his face, said nothing, and nodded while holding two more biscuits. Then he quickly walked away.

When Lys reached Hagrid's hut, he wasn't there. She thought about hanging the biscuits on the doorknob but worried the aroma might attract animals. Last time, Hagrid's prepared beef left outside had disappeared, supposedly eaten by Thestrals. But Lys hadn't seen any creatures; the meat had just vanished into thin air.

After some thought, she decided to wait for Hagrid. This way, Gulp could roam freely in Hagrid's room, playing in the oversized feeding trough until it was time for her Astronomy class. She had already prepared her paper and quill for class.

Hagrid returned after a while, his hair tangled with grass and dry leaves, as if he had stuck his head into a pile of foliage.

"Oh, you've been waiting a long time. Your face is all red from the cold. Why did you cut your hair so short? Girls—" Hagrid stopped mid-sentence, recalling that Lys didn't like being defined by others. He swallowed his words.

"It's nothing. My hair was blocking my view and felt uncomfortable brushing against my face," Lys replied. Most importantly, it no longer looked like Potter's. Too ugly.

As for whether girls shouldn't cut their hair that short—Lys didn't care. Her mother didn't either; otherwise, she wouldn't have bought her trousers meant for boys.

The hut was freezing. A recent snowfall had left Lys's boots filled with snow, and even a Scourgify spell couldn't dispel the biting cold.

Hagrid noticed her discomfort and quickly cleaned out the fireplace, arranging the firewood.

"Oh, where's my beard tie? Ah, here it is," he muttered, pulling a black hair tie from an inner pocket and securing his beard. Then he took out a Pepper Imp from another pocket.

Holding his beard in one hand, Hagrid popped the candy into his mouth. Instead of lighting the fire immediately, he tilted his head back, took a deep breath, and pinched his nose. Then, leaning forward, he exhaled a fiery breath into the fireplace!

Lys's already wide eyes grew even larger. Was that even possible?

"Oh, Lys, I wanted to show you this last time, but the fire was already lit then. Isn't it impressive? Just like a dragon! Dragons are simply the most fascinating creatures in the world, aren't they?" Hagrid exclaimed.

The conversation veered off to dragons. As Hagrid chewed on the biscuits, he described his longing to raise a dragon someday. Lys listened, sprawled on the sofa, watching Gulp chase the mouse Hagrid had set free for it to play with. The little furball was so quick that it often startled Lys. She cast a Lumos charm on it to make it more visible.

After expressing his dream of owning a dragon, Hagrid prepared to brew tea with freshly boiled water. But as he moved, some twigs and leaves from his hair threatened to fall into the pot.

"Hagrid, let me use a Scourgify on your hair," Lys offered. Hagrid always had a peculiar mix of reluctance and longing when others used wands, so Lys either cast spells discreetly or asked for his permission.

Sipping the oversized mug of tea, Lys finally felt her feet regain sensation, though they tingled slightly from the earlier cold. She lounged there, watching Hagrid chop some meat, rambling on about various topics, occasionally flashing her a goofy grin.

For once, Lys felt a rare wave of drowsiness, much like the time she had dozed off in the greenhouse listening to that humming lily.

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