"Truly excellent defensive reflexes. Had you joined the Quidditch team back then, I suspect the Quidditch Cup would've belonged to Slytherin throughout my post-graduation years."
Lys settled Friedm beside her, switching her wand to her right hand to cast a healing charm. Before she could respond, Snape exposed her shortcomings.
"Indeed—a Quidditch player who can't manage a foot off the ground on a broomstick. Perhaps you should've donated ground-level goal hoops specially designed for her to Hogwarts, Lucius."
Snape seized the opportunity to mock Lucius's method of securing his son's place on the Quidditch team by supplying Slytherin with brand-new, cutting-edge broomsticks for every player.
Friedm bristled at these words, frowning at Snape with clear displeasure:
"Broomsticks are merely tools for wizards to achieve flight. Those of us who can only ascend through broomsticks are the ones deserving ridicule."
Snape arched an eyebrow at Friedm, drawing his cloak about himself as if to retort, but Lys interrupted whilst arranging her hair: "Enough, Friedm. Go tidy the pitch you've set up with your friend."
"Really, Severus—without anyone to defend you, you resort to bullying children. Mind that little hothead doesn't take his wand to your shins."
After struggling to remove her hair tie, Lys tapped her wand. The tie automatically secured itself, neatly binding her hair once more.
Snape's expression tightened as he snorted, watching the woman gather the snake with its glittering collar and lead the way indoors.
As the three settled on the sofa discussing Draco's rather frail constitution, the two boys entered. Friedm stood a full head shorter than Draco, tugging him forward by the hand whilst answering his questions.
"Lys is an examiner at Durmstrang, not a professor, but she's absolutely brilliant. Well..." Friedm added earnestly, "except with flying broomsticks."
At this, Snape snorted derisively. "And potions."
"Lys is an intermediate potioneer! That's already amazing!" Friedm glared at Snape with obvious irritation. "Nobody can excel at everything. Lys is already wonderful!"
He thoroughly disliked this gloomy man who kept mocking his Lys!
Lys merely glanced at Snape without obvious expression, though the smugness glinting in her eyes proved rather conspicuous.
Draco appeared somewhat uncomfortable with Friedm's boasting, turning to introduce his Head of House.
"This is our Slytherin Head of House! Britain's youngest Potions Master!"
Perhaps recognizing his intent as too transparent, he quickly added: "But Friedm, your sister's magic truly is remarkable!"
Lys leaned back in her chair, observing Draco. Upon hearing his words, she demurred: "My magic isn't remarkable whatsoever. The person with the most impressive magic in this room is your Potions professor. I simply possess relatively strong magical power."
Noting the children's puzzled expressions, Lys flicked her wand and obliterated the reception room's fireplace. Amid everyone's startled exclamations and Snape's disdain, she explained matter-of-factly: "This is magical power."
She then lowered her wand. The airborne dust and scattered stone fragments leaped back to the fireplace, miraculously restoring themselves. "This is magic."
"Magical power provides fundamental strength; magic requires skillful application." Lys waved her wand again, gathering the lingering ash and directing it up the chimney.
"My magical abilities amount to nothing in the eyes of truly formidable wizards—isn't that right, Severus?"
Watching Snape nod with an expression clearly conveying 'at least you possess self-awareness,' both Draco and Friedm appeared incredulous. One had always believed his sister omnipotent—after all, their father back then...
The other considered this witch who could fly unaided and perform silent magic effortlessly to be extraordinarily powerful already.
"You'll encounter them eventually—genuinely powerful wizards. And you'll become powerful wizards yourselves." Lys glanced at Draco again, which reminded her of that Horcrux belonging to the Dark Lord. She couldn't help reflecting:
"What matters is understanding which processes you can control, what prices you can afford to pay. Only then can you avoid being consumed by what you obtain."
For some inexplicable reason, Snape's expression darkened upon hearing this, though he remained silent.
Lucius felt uneasy about Lys's pointed glance at Draco. He wondered internally whether Stalys was hinting that his son had been seduced by certain promises of power. Why hadn't she spoken directly? Or was he being overly sensitive?
"Oh, incidentally, senior—I'm planning to take Friedm to Diagon Alley tomorrow. We might need to impose upon you for the night."
Lucius immediately made enthusiastic arrangements. Even Draco extended a somewhat reserved invitation to Friedm: "My room contains a complete collection of Quidditch star posters. Perhaps we might appreciate them together?"
"Brilliant! That's fantastic! I only possess one signed Lynch poster... Lys, I want a complete set too!" Seeing Lys merely looking down at him without response, Friedm seized Draco and dashed off.
Observing Lys's lack of objection to the children sharing quarters, Lucius quietly exhaled in relief.
Before departing, Lys inquired curiously: "Where's that house-elf called Dobby?"
Lucius shook his head. "That creature's mind isn't sound. I rarely permit it to appear."
After Lys also departed the reception room, Lucius anxiously requested Snape examine Draco's school belongings.
Lucius's behavior heightened Snape's vigilance. After confirming once more and securing Narcissa's consent, he employed his Head of House privileges to conduct a thorough search upon returning to school—yet discovered nothing.
The following day, Lys escorted Friedm to Diagon Alley. She treated him to crushed-nut ice cream amidst the heavy snowfall, showed him their family's magically sealed reading room, then brought the chattering Friedm to Ollivander's wand shop.
Lys occupied a side chair, watching her brother test Ollivander's wands one by one—those containing phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, and unicorn hair cores. After boxes accumulated into a towering stack before him, she finally accepted reality.
He truly could wield virtually any wand, yet the most suitable remained that makeshift stick in his possession...
Broomstick handle with pet hair...
Pressing her nose bridge slightly, Lys assisted Ollivander in repacking the mountainous collection of boxes, offered her thanks, and departed.
"Lys, must we return immediately?" Friedm tugged his cloak and sniffled. As he did so, similar sounds emerged from behind Lys:
"Tonks, bloody hell—we draw outdoor patrol duty in this weather."
Another masculine voice responded: "Dawlish, work diligently without complaint."
The sniffling voice muttered again: "You're becoming increasingly like your uncle."
Lys shifted slightly aside, using the pretext of offering Friedm a handkerchief to evade the two men's line of sight.
Her means of entering Britain weren't entirely legal—she couldn't appear openly before patrolling Aurors.
However... after the pair passed, Lys glanced upward, her lips curving faintly as her tone acquired a trace of lightness:
"Friedm, hold tight to me. I'll take you to purchase my favorite sweets from my school days."
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