Lys released her left hand from Friedm's shoulder, touched his face through her glove, then moved to ruffle his hair. "Don't be afraid."
Friedm didn't know what Lys was referring to, but he nodded nonetheless.
Lys's emotions had been suddenly volatile for ages now.
He'd never seen anyone depend on Calming Draught as desperately as his sister did.
Friedm understood clearly—that was the price of their father's return.
He gripped Lys's hand tightly, spinning with his sister around the dance floor until Lys began feeling dizzy. Only then did they retreat to a side table for rest.
Friedm noticed no one approaching nearby, so he headed to the refreshment table to fetch Lys a drink. Krum waylaid him briefly, requesting help with English phrases.
When he finally returned, he found the brooding Potions professor seated beside Lys.
"Dumbledore sent me to have a word with you. I suggest moderating your aggressive attitude, Starlys. You must understand Moody's purpose here. He watches me constantly as well—I believe you know why."
Lys accepted the juice Friedm offered, drew her hawthorn wand from her dress robe's waist, and tapped it once. The juice instantly lost its chill.
"He's not right."
"Of course he's not right. He's filled half of Azkaban, been hunted by enemies for years—he lost his mind long ago. What matters is Dumbledore trusts him."
Lys glanced at Snape, who appeared troubled, and sipped her juice without further comment.
Dumbledore dispatching an obviously unhinged person to monitor her and others—Lys found it absurd, yet somehow felt it was perfectly typical.
Only after Snape departed did Lys lift her head from her drink. She extended her left hand to rest on Friedm's broad shoulder. "Let's dance a bit more."
Not until the stroke of midnight, when the stage wizards ceased their magical control of the instruments, did Lys release Friedm's hand. She staggered two steps and complained:
"Rather tired. Should've known better than to spin so bloody much."
But the faint smile gracing her features expressed quite the opposite.
Recent events had left Lys somewhat oppressed.
Leaning against her family's solid shoulder whilst freely enjoying the dancing pleasure she'd never experienced—this genuinely delighted her.
Following the ball, Lys remained holed up in her tent, scarcely venturing to the Great Hall anymore.
Originally, students would admire the lilies from a respectful distance near Lys's tent, but after the ball—save for occasional Hufflepuffs—they ceased appearing altogether.
Perched by the tent entrance, she rummaged through her personal belongings but couldn't locate any experimental materials.
Lys visited Hagrid. She intended to find an owl for correspondence, requesting Lucius or Lulu collect her goods and arrange fresh materials.
Lys accepted some unidentifiable bird Hagrid offered and sighed. "Hagrid, now d'you understand why I insisted on that contract preventing you from mentioning me carelessly? When will you break this habit of blurting whatever crosses your mind?"
Dismissing the creature, Lys examined the water-stained newspaper. "Hope there's no snot from you on this, Hagrid."
Hagrid seemed caught between laughter and tears, producing a tremendous "hmph" from his nasal passages.
"Right then, Hagrid—rest for a few days."
Lys paused whilst pushing the door open. "I'll find you this afternoon. No secret projects in the forest this time—can you take my brother and me for a look?"
Hagrid, whose eyes were too swollen for proper vision, blew his nose and nodded through his sobs.
Lys studied the newspaper. The biased reporting bore the Daily Prophet's typical style, but honestly, the information wasn't fabricated. Hagrid was indeed half-giant—this fundamentally mixed heritage might face even harsher discrimination than werewolves.
After all, official rhetoric often termed werewolves lycanthropy—beautified as disease and curse through former peers' fear and sympathy.
But half-giants?
This report's restraint from more inflammatory language likely stemmed only from its official publication status.
These stated facts made everyone ignore the beauty radiating from Hagrid's unique soul, instead fixating on his despised bloodline.
All of this tormented him.
Noting the approaching lunch hour, Lys prepared for the Great Hall to await Friedm.
Perhaps having Hagrid interact with another child who adored "little" creatures might ease his distress somewhat.
However...
"Why d'you always prevent me mentioning that filthy-blooded mongrel whilst defending Potter! Friedm! You constantly stop me stating disgusting facts about Potter and his mongrel mates! Is it because your father's a werewolf that you reckon you're on their side?!"
The pale-haired boy, surrounded by supporters sporting "Potter Stinks" badges, stared incredulously at the friend he'd assumed would stand firmly beside him.
"Draco Malfoy, perhaps you could owl your father—inform him precisely what you've just said to my brother." Lys's voice carried distinctly sinister undertones.
Friedm, who'd been standing aside in distress, quickly stepped forward to embrace Lys, deliberately pressing down her wand hand.
"Lys, we should go, er..." Lys observed her brother, eyes glistening with unshed tears, uncertain what to say. She cupped the back of his head, pressing his face into her wizard robes.
"I was stating facts." Though Draco's complexion had drained and his gaze remained fixed on Friedm's head, he persisted stubbornly.
Glancing at the obviously regretful boy, Lys offered no mercy. "Facts even your father wouldn't mention casually, hmm?"
Lys opened her mouth for further comment but glanced down at her brother's head buried in her embrace and fell silent.
If possible, she preferred letting Friedm choose for himself.
After Lys dragged her brother away, surrounding spectators quickly dispersed, whispering amongst themselves—so that Durmstrang professor's father was a werewolf!
Some watched Lys's retreating figure.
"No wonder she never approaches crowds—afraid of suddenly going barmy and biting people?"
"Are you thick? Malfoy said it was her father who's the werewolf."
"A werewolf! No wonder she so savagely attacked Professor Moody at such an important occasion."
"That was because he'd injured her brother previously and kept leering at her with that magical eye."
"Quite right—if I were a girl, I wouldn't fancy Moody staring with that ghastly eye either! Who knows what he might glimpse that I wouldn't want seen, intentional or not!"
Traversing the snowy castle grounds, Lys asked Friedm:
"This afternoon I'm venturing into the forest with Hagrid to gather materials. Fancy coming?"
Friedm looked up at Lys.
"Are you mates with Uncle Lucius?"
"Sort of."
"Right, I'll come."
"Good."
Lys perched on a tree branch, watching Friedm astride a Hippogriff, furiously battling a juvenile boarhound.
After tossing Hagrid a bag of sweets, Lys blew a Super Bubble-Blowing gum bubble and opened a Muggle book.
The bubble floated upward, catching on overhead twigs.
Crunch cocked his head expectantly, awaiting the bubble's burst so he could collect and devour the fragments.
The atmosphere remained tolerable, though everyone's mood seemed rather off.
Following that incident, Lys frequently brought Friedm into the forest to visit Hagrid, then left Friedm in Hagrid's care whilst pursuing her own activities.
But Hagrid's spirits showed little improvement.
Not until Friedm mentioned spotting Potter and friends departing Hagrid's hut did Hagrid appear considerably brighter—and only then did Lys irritably obliterate Hagrid's vegetable garden.
"Blimey! Lys, those were the house-elves' herbs—this is dreadful, they won't permit me in the kitchens again!"
Lys mockingly mimicked his words in a peculiar voice: "they won't permit me in the kitchens again."
Then she snorted derisively and departed.
Leaving Hagrid standing there, clutching his explosion-resembling hair, utterly baffled by Lys's anger.
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