Despite her anxiety, Lys knew she still had time. After all, she hadn't graduated yet.
As the thought of exams being over crossed her mind, Lys reached under the table and pulled out two bottles of alcohol—one mead and one whiskey.
She fetched a glass for herself, took a couple of sips, and let the sweet yet spicy taste linger on her tongue. Exhaling a faint breath of alcohol, she savored the flavor.
Her thoughts drifted back to the exams over the past few days. Quietly, she evaluated her own abilities. She was acutely aware that her magical power was far from ordinary. Even among wizards, if age were disregarded, her magical level would still be considered exceptional.
However, her application of magic and her situational awareness were glaring weaknesses. Casting powerful spells took her an inordinate amount of time, while weaker spells demanded quick reflexes and precise calculations.
The memory of being struck by a simple Freezing Charm three months ago made her uncomfortable. Clear logic, precise calculations, and quick reactions—these were skills she sorely lacked.
Noticing her glass was empty, Lys poured herself another drink and took a large gulp.
If her opponent didn't follow conventional combat methods, she could only rely on overwhelming magical power to suppress them, rather than employing true combat techniques.
She had read about Transfiguration spells or using the Summoning Charm to call forth large shields. She understood their applications in theory, but in real combat, she could only rely on instinct.
Frustrated, she would either intensify her magical output or simply bind her opponent and throw a punch.
Lys lifted the bottle and took another swig.
She had no natural talent, apart from the sudden bursts of magic that seemed like compensation for years of suppressed emotions.
She would have preferred to be an ordinary, clumsy little witch, sorted into Hufflepuff, gossiping, snacking, dealing with trivial problems—some solvable, some not.
Clutching her left arm, she thought about how, instead, she seemed to see hope everywhere, yet the path forward remained shrouded in uncertainty.
She knew. She absolutely knew…
If she wanted her mother to notice her, as she had always longed for, she needed to become an indispensable part of the family—a resource that could never be discarded.
She had to achieve more.
Grabbing the bottle, Lys thought about how dark the dormitory felt. There needed to be light. She needed to stand in the light. Throwing on her cloak and slinging Gabon onto her shoulder, she staggered out.
She wanted to go to the beech tree. There, she could feel the wind, the sun, the sky—no doors, no eternal darkness, no curses, no helplessness.
She desperately wanted to see the light—not just a thin sliver, but an all-encompassing embrace of light.
As she reached the corridor, she saw the four enormous hourglasses. Lys stared at the one with the most gemstones—it was emerald green.
Slytherin had the fewest students among all houses, but they were shrewd and hardworking, never missing an opportunity to earn points. They never missed a chance to win the House Cup!
Lys took another sip from her bottle. She thought the whiskey tasted better than the mead—spicy enough! She took another big gulp.
Never missing an opportunity—neither would she. Grades? She'd study hard! Healing? Even if it meant experimenting on herself, her father would laugh because of her, and her mother would be proud!
Dazed, Lys walked forward. She saw her father laughing heartily because of her; she saw her mother's approving gaze.
Shaking the half-full bottle, Lys clumsily climbed the beech tree, casting two Disillusionment Charms and a Confundus Charm on herself.
Pulling her cloak over herself, Lys lay there, staring at the sunlight filtering through the leaves, dancing on her face. She couldn't see the sun, but she could feel its shadow.
After fumbling in her pocket for a while, she pulled out a lollipop. Biting open the wrapper, she didn't bother checking if it was clean and popped it into her mouth, wrapper bits and all.
Taking another swig of whiskey, Lys watched Gabon find a sturdy branch and lie down. "Gabon! Gabon!" Every time she called, Gabon would look up at her. Lys chuckled twice before finally quieting down.
The sunlight grew warmer, making Lys, already tipsy, feel even more drowsy. She looked down at the lively scene below the tree.
A group of Gryffindors was playing with a Golden Snitch. A large black dog was repeatedly catching and releasing the Snitch, while a short, pudgy boy cheered loudly.
Lys squinted her eyes, not annoyed. The liveliness was better—it was more relaxing than the despairing cries.
Resting her head back on the branch, she lifted her cloak slightly to cool off. Feeling drowsy again, she held the bottle in her left hand against her stomach, her wand in her right, resting on Gabon. Taking another sip of whiskey, Lys closed her eyes, drifting into a shallow sleep as bizarre images swirled in her mind.
But before she could fully fall asleep, a sharp female voice startled her awake. Clutching her chest to calm her racing heart, Lys turned her head toward the sound.
"Let him go," said Evans, repeating the sentence.
Staring at the black-haired boy, Lys squinted. Oh, it was Potter.
Evans looked annoyed. "What did he do to you?"
"Well," Potter ran a hand through his hair, "as long as he exists, I feel unhappy. I think you understand what I mean!" The Gryffindors behind him burst into laughter.
Lupin, pretending to read a book, didn't laugh. Neither did Evans.
Lys squinted, wondering who had been caught by Potter this time. Fresh out of exams, what bad luck.
Still squinting, Lys tried to identify the person. She had drunk too much, and everyone looked blurry. If not for Evans's red hair and Potter's annoying voice, she wouldn't have recognized them.
"Don't reject my invitation, Evans. If you agree to go out with me, I'll let go of that greasy Snivellus," Potter said quickly.
Snivellus? Snape? Where was he? Lys wanted to sit up for a better look but felt too dizzy and nauseous.
"Oh! Forks, your face!"
Covering one eye, Lys finally saw. The person who had just cast a spell, leaving a deep gash on Potter's cheek, was Snape.
To suppress her nausea, Lys took a sip of whiskey. But before she could swallow, another flash of spelllight ended the scene.
Snape was hoisted upside down mid-air, his robes hanging down, revealing things that shouldn't be seen.
The crowd erupted in chaos, with boos and laughter.
For a moment, Evans's furious expression twitched as if she was suppressing a smile. "Put him down!" she demanded.
"As you wish," Potter waved his wand, and Snape fell to the ground in a heap. He quickly untangled himself, stood up, and raised his wand, but Sirius Black hit him with a Full Body-Bind Curse.
Snape fell flat on his back like a plank.
"Let him go!" Evans's sharp voice made Lys feel even sicker. She sat on the branch, covering her mouth.
Evans drew her wand. Potter and Sirius Black stared at it. "Oh, Evans, don't make me hex you," Potter sighed. "Alright, alright, Snivellus got lucky this time…"
He turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse. "You're free to go," he said as Snape scrambled up. "Lucky for you, Evans still cares. Otherwise, you greasy Snivellus—"
"I don't need help from a stinking Mudblood like her!"
Evans tilted her head, blinking.
"Fine," Evans said expressionlessly. "I won't bother next time. Also, if I were you, I'd wash my underwear, Snivellus."
Lys, trying to suppress her nausea, nearly swallowed her lollipop stick upon hearing that.
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