HP: The Stellar Witch [OFC]

Lys meticulously prepared for the two days during the full moon when her vision would temporarily return. She intended to address the condition of her left leg during this rare window of clarity.

It was only the day before the full moon that Snape managed to procure the finished Felix Felicis potion. Its quality was average, and if not for the potion's six-month brewing process, Lys might have asked Snape to concoct it directly.

On the very night of the full moon, Lys hurriedly retrieved her potion from the hall. Time was of the essence; any further delay and she'd need to resort to taking the soul-stabilizing potion again.

However, as she rushed back to her dormitory, a nagging doubt crept into her mind. Wasn't the purpose of acquiring Felix Felicis to increase her chances of success and prevent mishaps? Yet now, in her haste, wasn't she undermining the very advantage the potion offered?

Stopping abruptly in the corridor, Lys rubbed her chin thoughtfully. She decided to cut her losses rationally. Instead of rushing headlong, she would take Gobble to the forest to hunt for snacks.

This would also allow her to gather some Liquid Grass, which reached peak quality during the full moon. Additionally, she resolved to craft a ring to aid her in calming down and thinking clearly, as her emotions and thoughts had been increasingly erratic lately.

Clutching the cloth bag tightly, Lys glanced at the snake tail dangling from Gobble's mouth. She couldn't fathom Gobble's recent peculiar taste—eschewing young mice and bird eggs for magical creatures. This particular snake, for instance, had been flapping its tiny wings before Gobble captured it.

[Cheerful] "Oh, happy, happy indeed! Gobble likes it; we'll come back to catch more tomorrow!" Lys chirped in response to Gobble's mood, chatting away regardless of whether Gobble understood her.

"These past two months must have been tough on you. My blindness has affected your meals—"

What was that sound?

Even under the faint moonlight of the Forbidden Forest, Lys sensed something amiss—hooves crunching dry branches, heavy objects dragging across the ground, and then...

"Awooo!"

A werewolf! Lys practically flung Gobble onto her shoulder and bolted.

No wizard would willingly confront a werewolf on a full moon night. Their fur and skin gained extraordinary resistance to magic during this time, their muscular strength and stamina rivaled magical creatures, and their insatiable craving for flesh drove them to pursue prey even with broken limbs.

As Lys ran, the old injury on her leg became her greatest hindrance on the uneven terrain. Worse still, the sound of hooves seemed to be drawing closer.

Taking a deep breath, she suppressed the rootless fear gnawing at her. "Stalys, you're not a two-year-old meatball anymore. You have strength, a wand in your hand, and Gobble on your shoulder. Stay calm."

But calmness eluded her. Her unstable emotions churned her magic, and flashes of silver light blurred her vision.

Lys had previously discovered that her blindness was partly due to her magic. The rapid growth of her magical energy affected her blood, which contained the highest concentration of magic. Whenever she bled or released magic, her vision seemed to recover faster.

As for the other causes of her blindness, Lys had yet to unravel them.

Since she couldn't allow her magic to rampage within her body, nor should she create wounds on herself, she decided to release it outward instead.

Though she couldn't escape before, the massive release of magic now made her presence as conspicuous as a beacon in the darkness.

Holding her wand aloft, Lys repeatedly reminded herself that one day she would face Fenrir Greyback. Werewolves weren't scarier than the Dark Lord; as long as she stayed composed, she'd be fine.

In just a few breaths, Lys spotted the source of the hoof sounds—a massive stag with prominent antlers. She recognized it. It held a large black object in its mouth.

Lys took another deep breath but couldn't suppress a shudder when she saw the enormous figure trailing the stag.

Its sheer size wasn't a trick of memory from her childhood; it was genuinely gigantic. Even from this distance, she knew that facing it up close would mean certain death. Its size dwarfed hers by more than threefold.

Its protruding snout couldn't contain the saliva dripping from its fangs, and each roar sent droplets spraying outward.

In such a tense moment, Lys suddenly wondered if an open wound exposed to its saliva would have the same effect as being bitten.

With that thought, Lys quickly cast several layers of armor protection and waterproofing spells on herself.

The werewolf's attention shifted from the stag to Lys, drawn by the rich magic coursing through her veins.

Within moments, the werewolf charged toward Lys, its patchy fur, sharp humanoid claws, and those eyes—

Murky yellow, filled with brutality and a maddening hunger for flesh.

No trace of humanity remained in its struggle. This was a werewolf—a beast during transformation, who would later recall everything after the full moon period.

Inflicting pain on others, and on themselves.

Swinging her wand, Lys blasted the werewolf away—not to harm it, but because she couldn't inflict damage.

"Potter, go find Dumbledore!"

Curling her left leg, Lys struck the enraged werewolf again and again. Her attacks grew stronger, her curses increasingly vicious and intricate, but they only caused minor bleeding that seemed inconsequential to it.

The fight left Lys both angry and frustrated. She knew who this werewolf was—Lupin, an underage student. And yet, she couldn't defeat him. How could she possibly face the stronger Fenrir Greyback?

Even though she had to restrain herself somewhat because they were at school, this result was unacceptable. Damn it, what had Lupin eaten to become so strong?!

As the fight continued, Lys noticed the werewolf was particularly drawn to the abundance of magic. In moments, its focus would shift entirely. Calculating the time it would take for Potter to fetch Dumbledore and her own stamina, Lys decided to take a gamble.

Using her left hand to cast basic obstacle spells with her willow wand, Lys gripped her disguised hawthorn wand in her right hand and rapidly chanted runic incantations. The divided magic rampaged through her body like a thorny beast, stabbing her organs, limbs, senses, and numbing her pain.

She regretted taking such a risk but couldn't stop now. Lys's wand danced swiftly through the air, weaving grand strokes that formed golden and silver threads into a massive tapestry.

Lys knew she had made mistakes in her incantations, yet the effects were flawless. This made her realize the power of strong emotions on magic, the influence of a wizard's will on spells.

The miraculous control, the feeling of being an upper-level manipulator.

It made her unconsciously addicted.

~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~

Welcome to visit my Patreon, read the early chapters, and enjoy your reading!

 patreon.com/DarkGolds