HP: The Stellar Witch [OFC]

Hagrid tried to carry Lys away, but she refused. She knew the Forbidden Forest was right behind her, and if it caught fire...

"Go find a professor, quickly! I'll try to redirect the fire's direction. Hurry!"

This place was remote—so remote it bordered the unicorns' territory in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid glanced around but could only urge Lys to stay safe and keep her distance from the fire. He promised to return as quickly as possible.

Lys nodded and stepped back. The black flames burning on the grass were only half a person's height, but they emitted an eerie pull, lazily yet steadily spreading further.

She tried to clear all the flammable materials around, but her actions couldn't keep up with the flames' expansion. To her shock, she discovered that the fire could even burn magic. If she hadn't separated that clump of magic earlier, she herself would have been set ablaze.

Lys instinctively moved further away from the flames.

Fiendfyre? Hermes' Fire? Neither seemed right. The former was too selective and gentle, while the latter emitted unmistakable golden light.

She gasped. Could it be Fiendfyre? But its burning speed was too slow. Normally, Fiendfyre would have already reached the Forbidden Forest by now.

Lys glanced at the Forbidden Forest behind her. With magical enhancement, the fire would burn even more fiercely. The forest was filled with towering trees and magical plants. Once ignited, it would be nearly impossible to extinguish. And if the Forbidden Forest caught fire, the castle would inevitably be affected.

Swallowing hard, she glanced again and vaguely saw two unicorns and a Niffler cautiously crouching under a tree.

She couldn't see clearly. Leaving now would be troublesome. Perhaps...

Moreover, Hagrid had already gone to fetch a professor. If she didn't try out that magic array now, she might never get the chance. Searching through her pockets, she realized she was missing some materials.

Lys turned and beckoned to the Niffler. Naturally, the creature, having been robbed by humans before, was unwilling. But the unicorn next to it grabbed the Niffler by the scruff of its neck and brought it over. Lys quickly grabbed the Niffler's hind legs and shook it.

Out tumbled coins, crystals, necklaces, shiny stones, a silver goblet, and even a wand handle inlaid with a ruby.

Lys twitched her mouth and glanced back. No amber, her most familiar material, but it would have to do.

She swiftly picked up the white crystals and empty crystal potion bottles, which still carried the faint scent of healing potion.

Raising her wand, she transfigured a carving knife and crudely etched into the materials without worrying about precision. That spatial magic she had failed to complete during the summer might now be worth a try.

Meticulously weaving her magic into the carvings, she glanced at the increasingly fierce flames. Using her magic, she melted a large chunk of raw gold and a pile of peculiar, anti-magic materials.

It was rushed, and the materials were incomplete, but Lys scrutinized the pieces closely.

Rough, almost excessively so, but it would suffice. Thankfully, her magic reserves were abundant. Otherwise, even an alchemy master couldn't have completed this so quickly.

She wasn't confident about extinguishing the flames completely. For now, deceiving the fire and preventing it from spreading further would be enough.

Carefully, Lys buried the potion bottles and raw materials along the potential intersection between the flames and the Forbidden Forest.

Then, she repeatedly cast Finite Incantatem at the fire. After a while, Lys felt she looked somewhat foolish, stopped chanting, and retreated further with Gobble in her arms.

Taking a deep breath, she recalled what the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had mentioned about the infamous Fiendfyre disaster in Paris caused by Grindelwald. It had been stopped by the Finite Incantatem spell, led by the six-hundred-year-old alchemist Nicolas Flamel and numerous wizards.

Staring at the slow-moving flames before her, Lys tightened her grip on her wand. The fire that had once burned down an entire city and the small fire in front of her, covering just a couple of grass slopes, surely had a significant difference, right?

Practical experience was always lacking and needed to be made up for.

Fixing her gaze on the flames, Lys tried to recall the feeling she had while standing on the boat, surrounded by her dense magic in the dormitory.

That sense of unbound freedom, of floating weightlessly.

That feeling that as long as she wished, as long as she willed it—

Her will would decide everything. All things would be governed by her magic!

Then—

"Finite Incantatem!" Lys's wand pointed directly at the flames.

The black flames in her blurred vision suddenly froze. Just as Lys was marveling at how Fiendfyre was nothing special, the flames surged high with a loud whoosh.

The Niffler, startled, buried its head in Lys's pant leg, no longer tugging at her pants to retrieve its treasures.

Lys lowered her arm covering her head, feeling a bit awkward.

Where had she gone wrong? The incantation? The professor had said it exactly like that.

Could it be the wand movement? That would be tricky. During class, she hadn't been able to see clearly whether the professor had demonstrated with his wand...

However, the flames before her, after their final burst, quickly withered, struggling to burn close to the ground.

Lys took another deep breath.

Channeling her magic, she thought, Effective is good enough. Since the root of these Fiendfyre flames lies in the burning material on the ground, I'll direct my magic at the source.

Half-kneeling, Lys pressed the tip of her wand against the grass.

My will—cease burning.

"Finite Incantatem!"

This time, Lys held nothing back. Unlike her experimental mindset earlier, knowing the spell was effective, she poured all the power she could muster through her wand into the ground ahead.

Waves of silver light surged visibly along the ground, clashing with the black Fiendfyre flames for territory. Each time the flames consumed a wave, another would follow.

Though her vision was unclear, Lys could tell the black flames were no longer spreading toward the Forbidden Forest or following the magic trail back to her. It was working.

She completely unleashed her once-restrained magic, letting it surge wildly to execute her will.

Her rusty-red hair, of medium length, was lifted by the air currents. Her shirt's hem flapped loudly, stirred by the magic.

Looking at the inferno before her—a fire deemed demonic by the wizarding world, one that had consumed countless wizards and Muggles—Lys's mind flashed back to the burning mansion atop the mountain from her childhood.

The helplessness of the past would not happen again today. Even at a great cost, she would eradicate her fears one by one.

The Forbidden Forest housed the griffins and unicorns she had saved, the Nifflers she had robbed, and Hagrid's "little ones."

Moreover, Lys glanced toward the distant silver silhouette.

There stood Hogwarts Castle, the place that had given her the opportunity to learn magic and gain power.

The Hogwarts acceptance letter had been the beginning of everything wonderful for her—the start of understanding the world and what those things meant.

A single flame could burn down her home once, but it would never burn down her school in her presence.

"Finite Incantatem!" An unyielding will infused her magic, fiercely attacking the flames.

By the time Professor McGonagall arrived on her Cleansweep broomstick, only faint traces of fire remained before Lys, stubbornly clinging to life. The ground beneath was charred and lifeless.

With McGonagall's assistance, the last remnants of the fire were reluctantly extinguished.

Lys's legs gave way, and she knelt on the cold, scorched ground. Casting such high-level magic based solely on a professor's brief mention was indeed a stretch.

Moreover, Fiendfyre, ranked third among magical fires, wasn't even the most dangerous. Kneeling on the ground, Lys pounded the earth. After her fight with that dumb dog and the others, she had been smug, thinking she was an exceptional wizard.

Feeling as though she could control magic, as if she were so impressive...

Hah! The lunatics and the Dark Lord she had encountered during the holidays, her ongoing need for the soul-stabilizing potion due to her healing issues, and today's Fiendfyre—

All of it had shattered her previous complacency.

The students at school? What did they count for? If she wasn't the strongest, even being second to one meant she'd still face moments of inadequacy. She had to keep striving.

To ensure there were no unnoticed embers, Lys remained until Professor Flitwick arrived, carried by Hagrid. Only then did McGonagall take Lys, who had been helping the Niffler dig, to the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey, by now, was used to it.

After a brief examination, she said, "No issues, just a bit agitated. Rest, and you'll be fine." She placed a calming draught on the table. "Drink it or not, your choice. What happened? Why do you look so serious, Minerva? Did she get into another fight?"

"It wasn't me! I didn't! Hagrid found the fire; ask him!" Lys waved her hands hurriedly at the two women, whose curious, scrutinizing gazes bore into her.

Burning down the school—that was serious! She didn't want to be blamed for that...

In the end, Lys remained in the infirmary because Lupin hadn't woken up yet. Madam Pomfrey needed to know what Lys had done to him. After all, werewolves in their transformed state had extraordinary resistance to magic.

Reluctantly, it was acknowledged that Peter Pettigrew had indeed given Lupin a strengthening potion that day, supposedly to help him endure the transformation.

This had further amplified his resistance to magic.

"A runic spell I translated, but I don't know its effects. I can't cast it on myself," Lys explained, glancing at the boy lying on the hospital bed, covered in scars. She remembered she should send her mother a note after the full moon.

"Because his resistance was so strong, he kept struggling. Gobble, worried about my safety, bit his neck, and that's when he fell into my spell."

Lys scratched her neck; Gobble had clung too tightly earlier.

"However, OWLs examiners have tested it. They said it's all delusions. Not even Dumbledore could escape," Lys added, not boasting about the century's strongest white wizard but quoting a 160-year-old examiner.

Hearing this, Madam Pomfrey gasped. "Why didn't you say anything earlier about such a dangerous situation?"

Lys turned her head, simply staring at Lupin. "Because I was angry. Werewolves should be like my father—knowing restraint, not compromising." Pointing at Lupin, she continued, "And what was he doing? Letting his friends—"

Before she could finish, Sirius Black barged in, interrupting her. "We're best mates! You narrow-minded Slytherin, how could you understand friendship—"

Lys had no intention of arguing with the dumb dog. His brain worked differently from normal people.

How could he act brooding and nonchalant in front of others, yet lose composure entirely in front of her?

She uttered a single sentence that infuriated him:

"Sirius Black, you truly are your mother's son. Sending a werewolf to hunt down someone you dislike—how dare you? Aren't you afraid your friend will bear the burden of guilt?"

Lys lifted her chin. Even with her unfocused gaze, the threat in her narrowed eyes was palpable.

"My mother was right. Except for my father, the Blacks are all mad."

As she reached the door, Lys turned back. Though her eyes were unfocused, her slightly squinted, almond-shaped eyes conveyed a clear warning. "Of course, that includes me, Sirius Black. Keep your little secrets. Don't make me angry again, or as I warned you before, I won't hesitate next time."

Madam Pomfrey inhaled sharply once more, shooing both quarrelers out. She needed to inform Dumbledore about this!

Before Lys could take two steps, Professor McGonagall returned and brought her to the staff lounge to discuss the Fiendfyre incident.

Hogwarts' wards had delayed and suppressed the fire's spread, but extinguishing it wasn't something a student could achieve.

Especially upon learning that Lys had only heard about the countermeasure in class once and managed to accomplish this much, the professors were astonished.

Watching Lys demonstrate her patchy Finite Incantatem, the professors exchanged glances. Lacking technique but compensating with magic power—this...

However, Lys's focus shifted to the magic array the professor mentioned. The protective spells and arrays of the school had been passed down for millennia, making Hogwarts the safest place in Britain, bar none.

Could magic arrays be this powerful? Lys's heart stirred. She genuinely enjoyed the process of crafting with materials. She could delve deeper into this in the future.

Lost in thought, Lys tripped over the first step outside the staff lounge.

She fell flat onto the stone corridor, earning a heavy sigh from Slughorn.

You'd think she wasn't a Slytherin, given her self-preservation, vengefulness, occasional strength, and composure.

But then again, she lacked ambition, didn't crave power, and wasn't the least bit graceful. After all, the girl sprawled on the ground was a Slytherin!

Sigh...

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