Watching the two children being picked up by their Auror relatives, Lys Black glanced around the platform. Her parents were nowhere in sight.
Frowning, Lys calculated the time. Yesterday had been a full moon. Her parents must be at home enduring the painful werewolf transformation. It seemed she'd have to make her way home on her own this time.
Suddenly, Lys froze. She had felt something was off before the term started, but she hadn't been able to pinpoint it.
Ah, now she remembered. She didn't know where her house was!
Her family's two-story house was on a small hill, but where exactly was that hill? Lys had no idea, as leaving and returning home had always been via Apparition with her mother, Senna.
Taking a deep breath, Lys grabbed Severus Snape, who had just gotten off the train late to avoid the crowd.
"Snape, do me a favor. How do I get to Diagon Alley?"
"…"
Even Lucius Malfoy, skilled in social graces and ever so calculating, found himself momentarily at a loss when faced with these two. One didn't know where her own house was, and the other didn't have a home at all. This was... a bit awkward.
"Well, my lady, how about I Apparate you directly to Diagon Alley?" Lucius suggested. Originally, he was supposed to pick up Snape and head straight to Malfoy Manor to brew potions. But it seemed his plans would have to change.
Lys quickly agreed.
After a moment of hesitation, she scrutinized Lucius from head to toe. His robes were embroidered with gold thread, and she didn't want to hold his arm or be grabbed by him. Finally, Lys decided to hold onto the corner of his robe.
Lucius forced himself to maintain a gentlemanly smile. She was disdainful of the noble Malfoy! He hadn't even shown disdain for her yet. Forget it—great power comes with great tolerance.
Lucius, however, got distracted, which resulted in a splinching during the Apparition. Fortunately, it was minor. Unfortunately, even a minor splinching was beyond the capabilities of ordinary wizards to handle. Lucius Malfoy, now annoyed, realized he'd have to waste more time.
Lys stretched out her hand toward him. "Lend me your wand. Mine isn't allowed to be used during the holidays."
A wand was the most personal possession of a wizard. "Impossible. A wand is—"
Clutching his bleeding thigh, Snape rasped, "If you don't mind, you'd best lend it to her. It wouldn't be very dignified if your dear junior bled to death because of you."
Reluctantly, Lucius handed over his wand, watching as Lys wiped her hands before taking it. His expression softened slightly, though he discreetly clutched something in his pocket.
Lys noticed his subtle movement but said nothing. She muttered an incantation to heal herself first, then used a Severing Charm to tear Snape's robes and healed his leg wound.
Returning the intricately carved wand, its handle encrusted with diamonds, to Lucius, Lys remarked, "Apply scar-removal potion for a week, and it'll be fine. I must say, senior, your wand is truly beautiful!"
Pleased by the compliment, Lucius raised his head proudly. "Your healing skills are equally admirable, my lady. Well then, farewell."
With that, Lucius grabbed Snape and Disapparated from the secluded alley.
Lys reached for her willow wand to clean up the bloodstains on the ground but stopped mid-motion. Instead, she adjusted her sleeves and brushed off the dust on her clothes.
Using traditional methods, she laboriously cleaned up the blood. After glancing around, she left the alley and headed toward her family's shop.
"Quite an extraordinary junior, don't you think?" Lucius remarked to Snape as they reappeared elsewhere. "I thought she might have a spare wand!"
Snape pulled his robes tighter around himself, offering no reply.
Unlocking the door to the shop with her own spell, Lys stepped inside and resisted the urge to smash things. The books were in utter disarray, scattered everywhere but the shelves. Two books were even fighting on the ceiling.
Her father, due to his injuries, couldn't cast spells properly. As for her mother's spellcasting skills...
From behind the counter, Lys retrieved her crooked blackthorn wand.
Clearing all the bookshelves, she used the Summoning Charm to reorganize the books one by one according to the inventory list. She also replaced some of the less popular books on the Lam family's private collection shelves with fresher titles.
Keeping things fresh was the key to attracting visitors, wasn't it? Her father loved being around people, after all.
Lys wanted to use flowers to create a notice for the glass window at the shop's entrance, but her summoning spell only produced a handful of weeds with a few lonely yellow flowers mixed in.
"New arrivals?" someone sneered at the door before spitting toward the entrance. "Filthy werewolf's shop!"
Lys, holding groceries she had just bought, stood right behind the man.
Lifting her foot, she kicked him squarely in the back, then pressed her wand against his spine. Licking her dry lips, she said coldly, "What about werewolves? My father may be a werewolf, but did he bite you?"
The man's female companion screamed, but Lys ignored her completely. She used her magic to fling the man aside. Standing at the shop's entrance, she cast two Scourgify spells to clean up the mess. She nodded indifferently at the florist peeking out from next door.
The reading room was quiet, with only a few elderly men and clueless visitors browsing the books. Occasionally, troublemakers would show up, but Lys "gently" threw them out.
Some of the elderly men advised Lys to isolate herself. While they understood that not all werewolves wanted to harm others, they cautioned her nonetheless.
"Still, during a full moon, werewolf instincts can't be controlled by reason. To date, only that scoundrel Fenrir Greyback can barely retain his thoughts during a full moon. You're a good kid; you should think carefully," one of the previously ejected grumpy old men and his friends advised.
"There's a potion that's said to reduce a werewolf's aggression and ease transformation pain, but the recipe is rumored to be with the Prince family. That family, though..." The more rational elder shook his head. "Their bloodline has completely died out."
Lys smiled politely at these well-meaning individuals but began calculating in her mind: Werewolf potion, Prince family... Snape?
That night, Lys carefully composed a letter, written in sharp, formal cursive, requesting the potion recipe from Snape.
The next day, she sent it via owl from the post office.
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