Lulu stood to one side, shielding Noah and Friedm from view. The abnormally brilliant glow from the advertising board—enhanced by Lys's processing—flickered across everyone's faces, yet couldn't escape being tainted with an oppressive green hue from the Dark Mark above.
The chains securing the broomstick model had snapped at some point.
The broomstick, radiating gentle, flickering silver light, carried the potion light-effects born from Lys's alchemy as it soared skyward, careening wildly through the air.
Silver streamers trailed from the broomstick's tail, blazing defiantly against the forest-green luminescence overhead.
Flying in chaotic spirals.
Through some inexplicable principle, silver droplets of light happened to fall upon the serpent of that sinister green Dark Mark, and the few silver flowers that bloomed refused to retract.
Lys attempted to recall the broomstick. She didn't want her mother's potion shop logo flailing about beside the Dark Mark.
But the Aurors had already imposed martial law. Any raised wand triggered sharp reactions from them.
Fortunately, the broomstick flew farther and farther away. Lys lowered her wand and grasped Noah beside her.
Noah felt Lys's icy hand and squeezed back firmly.
"The Anti-Apparition's been lifted. When can we leave?" Lys's parched voice cut through the Aurors' interrogation.
A French Auror assisting the operation glanced at Lys once, then twice, explaining in fluent English, "Momentarily. Once we complete registration, you're free to go."
His tone was remarkably patient, as though fearing Lys might suddenly erupt and harm someone.
His captain had announced something to all Aurors on duty today: show courtesy when encountering tall, thin, red-haired witches. Though the reason remained unclear, his captain was someone who'd crawled out of countless perils—best to follow orders.
Lys didn't acknowledge him. The quill in her grasp was inscribing information with such force it nearly sliced through the entire parchment stack.
After delivering Draco to the Malfoy estate's entrance, Lys observed the bewildered house-elf but didn't venture inside. Instead, she led her three companions back to the reading room in Diagon Alley.
By then it was quite late, and everyone was utterly drained.
Following hasty arrangements, the four finally collapsed to rest.
Friedm clutched the two rescued dogs and one of Lys's arms, attempting to help her relax.
But exhausted as he was, he soon lost control of his snoring. Still fretting over whether Lys had fallen asleep, his previously decent snoring became an absolute shambles.
This stoked the fire in Lys's skull even higher.
After relocating Friedm aside and conjuring mosquito netting shrouded in silencing charms around him, Lys finally managed brief sleep whilst hugging Gabeng. Early next morning, she ventured to Diagon Alley for a copy of the Daily Prophet.
Reading it repeatedly, apart from some ambiguous reporting, Lys couldn't discern any meaningful clues.
Lulu prepared breakfast and departed to purchase daily necessities. Upon returning, she shook her head at Lys. Lys paused momentarily, then signalled her understanding.
Lulu meant they couldn't return to Germany directly. Britain had reimposed martial law following this incident. At least immediate return to Germany was utterly out of the question. Vast numbers of international spectators remained stranded, though this proved rather pointless—individuals with sensitive identities possessed their own departure methods.
But Lys had no desire whatsoever to reveal her presence. Her ticket purchase and advertising board were far too conspicuous; the Ministry might well take notice of her.
Moreover, she wanted to understand precisely what had transpired. After all, when that mark ascended skyward, Lys hadn't sensed the slightest alteration in her arm's mark.
The Dark Mark held special significance. Unless marking death or acting upon the Dark Lord's direct orders, none would deploy it lightly.
The death notice in the newspaper was mere speculation; no actual official had confirmed the information's accuracy.
When nobody was watching, Lys brought her three companions to Malfoy Manor.
Lucius was somewhat displeased by Noah's arrival, but glimpsing Lys's expression, he merely coughed dryly to express gratitude for their care of his son the previous night.
Due to prolonged excitement, last night's terror, and this morning's early rising, even Friedm—usually energetic as a headless chicken—was now yawning.
"Lulu, take Dad and Friedm upstairs to find a guest room for rest." Seeing Lulu's questioning glance, Lys replied, "Any room will do. We'll return to the reading room shortly."
Once the child and Noah had departed, Lys's composure completely shattered. "What the bloody hell happened, Lucius Malfoy!"
"I haven't a clue either! I was also threatened into going by that imbecile from the Lestrange family last night. I did my utmost to mediate!"
Lucius's expression grew increasingly vexed. "That mark wasn't cast by any of us. After it appeared, those idiots scattered faster than anyone!"
Lys believed only half of Lucius's account. The core Death Eaters maintained their own philosophies and protocols.
She didn't probe deeper—it was meaningless. What mattered was—
"So," Lys's expression eased slightly, "He wasn't involved in this?"
Lucius studied Lys intently for several moments. "I'm uncertain, but I saw nobody clutching their arm."
Only then did Lys release a faint sigh of relief, nuzzling Gabeng on her shoulder. She examined the newspaper on Lucius's desk, where within the enormous Dark Mark photograph, several silver flowers adorning the serpent's sinuous form appeared blurred and gently swaying. The departed broomstick remained barely visible as a silhouette darting about.
The headline beneath was utterly sensational—
Has the Dark Lord Returned Once More!
Lys couldn't fathom Lucius's thoughts, but she sensed matters weren't so straightforward.
This incident was ultimately suppressed by Britain's incompetent Ministry. They swiftly compensated certain confirmed tourist losses, then reopened departure channels from Britain.
Exit screening was so lax that Lys watched a fugitive employing human transfiguration attempt to enter the same Floo fireplace as herself—only to be expelled by Lys's magic.
Upon departure, the staff member even offered sincere yet mechanical apologies to Lys and Friedm: "Terribly sorry for the unpleasant experience we've caused you and your son."
Then to Noah and Lulu: "Terribly sorry for the unpleasant experience we've caused you and your daughter."
Observing Noah's awkward smile, she added: "Please secure your two pet dogs to prevent any mishaps."
Indeed, Friedm had brought home the two Whippets he'd rescued...
Soaring on his broomstick through the courtyard whilst walking the dogs, Friedm sighed wistfully. "My personally signed Connolly poster..."
That had been purchased with overdrafted pocket money for a meet-and-greet opportunity. Though merely a handshake and autograph, Friedm had been thrilled about it for ages.
And Lys? Lys was busy enough to take flight herself.
She used this to escape contemplating those unanswerable questions with no means of exploring solutions.
Lys's sphere of influence encompassed only the materials sector. She couldn't reach intelligence networks or certain upper echelons whatsoever.
Any move she made would inevitably be discovered by others. She was a Death Eater herself—even doing nothing, she couldn't withstand others' speculation and scrutiny.
Remember Durmstrang's upcoming exchange programme?
More precisely, it wasn't an exchange but a competitive tournament. This competition had been suspended for three centuries due to its extraordinarily high casualty rate.
"Triwizard Tournament! Tournament! Tournament! Tournament! What's there to bloody compete about!"
"Might as well ponder how to reach the moon."
"Just throw the three headmasters together for a brawl and we'll know who's strongest! Quidditch's already such chaos, and now this—what does the British Ministry want?!"
Lys complained incessantly.
Igor Karkaroff was headmaster, but he managed absolutely nothing!
As an accompanying instructor, Lys was ordered about by the deputy headmaster so extensively she had no time to consider her own affairs.''
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