Chapter 88

Once Astronomy class started, both the professor and the students were trembling, their hands shaking as they tried to hold up brass telescopes to observe the designated starfield. Lys felt as though her hands had frozen onto the telescope's metal surface.

Even the ink in her inkwell showed signs of freezing, leaving her with a blurry star chart to submit. She pulled Gulp closer to her chest; it had recently shed its skin and was still quite delicate.

Lys had considered leaving Gulp in her dormitory to play, but the memory of her belongings being haphazardly tossed into a new dormitory at the start of her second year made her distrust the safety of the dorms.

By the time class ended, it was already midnight. Apart from the Astronomy students, even the portraits in the corridors were nodding off. On her way back, Lys broke away from the group and headed to the kitchen. Her stomach felt uncomfortable, and she thought a cup of warm milk might help.

Anything would do—just not Sleeping Draught or Draught of Living Death. The last time Madam Pomfrey gave her a potion during Christmas, she had swallowed it on a Friday night, only to find herself trapped in a dream she couldn't wake up from.

In that dream, she vividly saw her father calling her useless, her mother saying, "If you can't win your father's favor, we don't want you," before waving a wand with willow leaves to turn her back into a monkey! Then, they transformed another monkey into a child, and upon closer inspection, it was Regulus Black!

That Saturday, Lys didn't leave her dormitory all day. The dream had made her so angry that she wanted to storm out and punch Regulus Black in the face!

It also intensified her pressure to excel in her studies, whether it was schoolwork or the knowledge from her father's books. Yet, she struggled to cast spells smoothly.

In the library, one book's author lamented in the final pages: "An 'Outstanding' grade is born from countless factors; miss even one, and it becomes a 'C.' And that missing factor is something not everyone possesses—it's called talent."

Her father's book had a similar sentiment scribbled in quill at the end:

"What's the use of hard work? In the path of magic, talent is Merlin's ultimate decree.

Talent reigns supreme."

Lys was terrified. What if she truly lacked that so-called talent? What would she do then?

Sipping the warm milk from the jug, Lys felt her hands, feet, and stomach gradually thawing from their near-frozen state.

Taking the handkerchief offered by a house-elf, Lys wiped her mouth and complimented its knitted bowtie. "The craftsmanship is excellent, very pretty." The house-elf looked so thrilled it nearly fainted as it took the empty jug from her.

Feeling warmer, Lys decided to head back to the dormitory early. Gulp had been unusually quiet, likely exhausted from chasing that mouse in Hagrid's hut earlier. She should have brought the mouse along.

As she opened the common room door, Lys was met with a surprising sight: Snape was being held at wand-point by Carrow, a senior, yet he seemed utterly unfazed. In contrast, Carrow, who appeared to have the upper hand, was sweating profusely.

Lys tried to adopt an "I didn't see anything, this has nothing to do with me" attitude and head back to her dorm.

But clearly, the two didn't think so. Carrow, looking somewhat dazed, wavered her wand between Snape and Lys, switching targets rapidly.

Seeing her gaping mouth but hearing no sound, Lys knew Carrow posed no real threat. After all, the senior's academic performance was notoriously poor.

However, the thought deeply ingrained by her mother and fear—Never let anyone point a wand at you!—overpowered her. With a quick Expelliarmus, Lys sent Carrow's greasy wand flying.

She then adjusted Gulp's yarn basket and returned to her dormitory. Gulp was getting heavier.

Though Lys didn't know what Snape did to Carrow afterward, the senior never again cornered Snape in the common room to insult Evans' bloodline or to curry favor with Malfoy. She even became less arrogant toward Lys.

In fact, Carrow ended up spending a week in the hospital wing, plagued by mysterious, unremovable mold growing on her face.

For a few days, Snape seemed less burdened by his usual mix of pride and insecurity.

Tsk, probably the same way he dealt with those classmates who used to flatter the powerful while stepping on the weak, Lys thought.

In Charms class, perhaps due to the impression left by that screaming monkey vase, or perhaps because she simply couldn't forget monkeys, every vase Lys conjured afterward would scream "Monkey!" The only difference was the volume.

After class, Professor Flitwick kept a few students who had made no progress. Lys, feeling her screaming vase wasn't a success, stayed behind as well.

Standing on a chair, Flitwick addressed the group. Though many students each year used clumsy spells to pass their O.W.L.s and even graduated unable to cast many complete spells, Flitwick remained committed to his duty as a Charms professor.

He hoped these children could acquire at least one skill to protect themselves in these turbulent times. Whether it was potions or charms, they needed something—be it for resistance or survival—to shield them from mortal danger.

He reiterated the importance of emotion and determination in spellcasting. Finally, one student managed to make their vase say, "This is so hard, why is it so hard? I'm hungry, I want a drumstick." The voice was feeble, but it was a success.

Lys felt like she was missing something but couldn't quite grasp it.

When she first succeeded, her mind had been filled with shock from what she'd seen the night before. For this student, it was intense frustration and hunger. Neither was a clear, focused desire for the vase to speak.

So, could strong emotions alone suffice for spellcasting? Whether it was rapid healing or something else—what about dark magic? Those maniacs seemed to wear expressions of pure joy when using dark magic. If they were merely feeling excitement, could they still cast dark spells?

Holding her wand, Lys could feel nothing but frustration. Even recalling that experimental notebook no longer evoked the same level of fear. She spent the entire afternoon brooding in the dormitory.

The more anxious she became, the less she could muster any useful emotion or sentiment. Tugging at her hair, Lys decided to head to the hospital wing—it was time for her regular lice treatment.

~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~

New chapter live! Patreon updated to Chapter 121

Join for exclusive content: patreon.com/DarkGolds

Thank you for your support!