Standing in Honeydukes, Friedm counted his pocket money three times before pouting and turning his big, round eyes toward Lys.
"Absolutely not," Lys refused curtly. "You've bought a complete set of posters, the most premium pet carrier available, and a new breed of Pygmy Puff. You've already blown through six months' worth of allowance."
Friedm crouched down with his wand and newly purchased box, counting his remaining coins.
Since British wizarding currency conversion differed entirely from what Friedm knew in Germany, he'd lost all sense of his financial situation whilst shopping in Diagon Alley, leaving precious little spending money.
In the end, Friedm's candy purchase was calculated down to individual sweets.
"Next time I'll get Draco to buy my candy!" Friedm muttered whilst paying his bill.
He gazed enviously at the enormous bag of Blowing GumLys had selected.
"Draco can't visit here until third year." Lys crushed her brother's hopes, then popped a piece of bubble gum into her mouth and tossed a Fizzing Whizzbee to Gabon, who remained under a Notice-Me-Not Charm.
She also packaged some Honeydukes' Special Chocolate. "Dad adores these," followed by a pile of Ice Mice. "Mum's favorites."
Whilst Friedm examined an assortment of peculiar confections, Lys discreetly grabbed several packages of the very sweets Friedm had spent ages calculating costs for.
Lys tossed everything into Friedm's box. "Right then, time we headed home."
Before departing, however, Lys suddenly asked Friedm: "We're quite close to Hogwarts from here. Fancy a look?"
Friedm wasn't particularly keen, but noting the wistful expression in Lys's eyes, he nodded agreeably.
Standing outside Hogwarts' firmly closed gates, Lys pointed toward the castle's massive Quidditch pitch and asked Friedm: "This Quidditch pitch is twice Durmstrang's size. Well? Any regrets?"
Friedm withdrew his hand—which had been secretly pilfering Lys's sweets—mumbling: "I don't regret anything. I want to stay with Lys."
Then, seeing Lys wasn't watching, he sneakily popped another sweet into his mouth.
Lys gazed at the castle, though her thoughts drifted to that suit of armor in the dungeon corner. Perhaps... Senior Lucius served on the Board of Governors... she could purchase it outright, then return it during holidays for maintenance by Hogwarts' protective enchantments.
Actually, that sounded rather brilliant...
"Stalys Black?" Lys gripped her wand and whirled around sharply. Her magical senses hadn't detected anyone's approach.
Behind them stood a tall gentleman with an impressive white beard—Hogwarts' headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
Lys felt an immediate headache brewing. Observing the elderly headmaster in his emerald robes, complete with twinkling spectacles adorned by a small star, she suspected her decision hadn't been terribly wise.
"Perhaps you'd care to warm up in my office? This young fellow's nose has gone quite red." Though phrased as an invitation, Lys recognized from Dumbledore's expression that she had no alternative.
"Do try some—I've become frightfully fond of these recently."
In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore slid a plate of biscuits across his desk. "I still recall those three biscuits of yours—hard as iron ingots, they were. Oh..." He unconsciously touched his cheek, affecting the manner of a kindly grandfather sharing confidences.
Lys understood precisely why Dumbledore hadn't exposed her during that courtroom proceeding, but her hands weren't nearly as clean now as they'd been then. Facing her former headmaster left Lys distinctly uncomfortable.
Furthermore, Lys knew Dumbledore harbored designs concerning her—don't misunderstand, she meant regarding Dark Lord matters. British wizarding society had buzzed with commentary about Dumbledore's insistence that You-Know-Who might yet return.
The current Minister for Magic apparently viewed this as Dumbledore's method of maintaining influence whilst undermining ministerial authority.
But individuals like Lys, possessing reasonable grounds for suspicion, recognized Dumbledore's accuracy.
Lys genuinely wished to extract information from Dumbledore. She felt rather guilty about it.
"Hogwarts' protective enchantments detected an enormous magical signature, so I ventured out for a look. Otherwise, on such a bitter day, I'd be warming myself by the fire with some sweets, wouldn't I, young man?"
Friedm, however, remained silent due to Lys's obvious tension.
"And this is?" Dumbledore regarded Friedm with mild uncertainty, refraining from voicing his assumption.
"My brother, Friedm Lamb."
"Ah, Lamb... hmm? Lamb?"
Lys selected a biscuit from the plate and offered Friedm a piece, signaling he needn't remain so anxious whilst introducing Dumbledore to him.
"I no longer use Black, either. I've adopted my mother's surname—everyone in Germany addresses me as Miss Lamb."
Dumbledore studied Friedm, then Lys, his eyes reflecting surprise and approval. "I remember your words—that your father never attempted to claim what wasn't rightfully his. You've honored that principle."
The Black family fortune was, after all, so substantial that few wouldn't be tempted.
Friedm glanced questioningly at Dumbledore before biting into his biscuit. The next instant, his face contorted dramatically. "Lys, don't eat that! It's ghastly sweet!"
He stared at the biscuit plate with genuine alarm. "Sweeter than all the candy I've just consumed combined!"
Hearing this, Lys discretely replaced the biscuit she'd lifted for appearances.
"Oh, rather disappointing. Seeing your evident fondness for sweets, I'd hoped we shared similar tastes..." Dumbledore's tone carried deliberate wistfulness.
The following moment, however, his piercing blue eyes fixed upon Lys from above his half-moon spectacles. "I understand... you lingered extensively in Albanian forests some years past during your expeditions, seeking rare materials."
He afforded Lys no opportunity to respond, continuing: "Several months ago, I'd intended inviting you for conversation through Severus, but then heard you'd participated in Muggle conflicts in Africa?"
Lys had maintained silence, but then heard Dumbledore inquire: "Severus mentioned you told him Tom wouldn't perish. What, then, are your future intentions?"
Lys's mind had engaged Occlumency upon encountering Dumbledore, despite her Occlumency's considerable side effects.
Now, consider his questions: Albania—the much-whispered final refuge of the Dark Lord in recent years.
The International Statute of Secrecy—beyond the Dark Lord, he was probing her German allegiances.
Lys suddenly regarded Dumbledore with frank irritation. She'd grown weary of circumlocution with this elderly headmaster.
"If I don't venture into perilous territories to personally obtain rare materials, should I resort to brigandage instead? If I don't establish trade routes through Muggle territories, will you provide the fundamentals for wizarding existence? Will you occupy my warehouse, casting permanent Transfiguration upon leaves to render them valuable?"
"Regardless of the suspicions such activities invite, I must pursue them—there's simply no place for me within established, pre-allocated markets, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Lys had undertaken all these endeavors under her genuine identity, requiring others to recognize and trust her merchandise sources.
Dumbledore commanded international wizarding leadership. Lys understood one word from him could determine her next decade.
"I recognize you're not some extremist lunatic seeking universal destruction, but I refuse to choose you or endure your interrogation."
Lys frowned deeply. "Dumbledore! You won't protect me—observe Sirius Black! Consider Remus Lupin, whom I encountered in those forests! Think of Fenwick and those other Order of the Phoenix members whose bodies remain undiscovered!"
Dumbledore had utterly failed to protect his followers!
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