HP: The Stellar Witch [OFC]

After tidying up the chaos in her dormitory, Lys carried a few textbooks mailed from Diagon Alley and headed to class the next day. The significant blood loss caused by the repair of her left leg had somewhat restored her vision.

She was heading to Potions class. Even if she wasn't going to brew anything, she still wanted to listen.

After all, she could keep up with other subjects and was confident about getting an O (Outstanding), but Potions was different. Every year, her Potions grade barely scraped an O.

As Lys walked out of the classroom, a tawny owl blocked her path. It eyed Gabo, who was perched proudly on her shoulder, with caution, flapping its wings and landing on a corridor statue. With a reserved demeanor, it let out two low hoots toward Lys.

However, when Lys saw the invitation held in the owl's talons, an inexplicable chill climbed up her spine.

Noticing that some curious eyes were already turning her way, Lys quickly grabbed the invitation and rushed back to her dormitory.

The golden wax seal gleamed on the envelope, and the recipient's name was intricately written: Stalys Black.

Tearing open the envelope in her haste, Lys nearly ripped the contents inside. Inside was an opulent invitation, written in dragon blood ink, with silver corners and a stiff, luxurious texture.

It was a timed Portkey, inviting Lys to the Black family ancestral home on Christmas evening to witness the ceremony for the next generation's family heir.

The signature bore the name "Black" alongside the family crest.

Lys hesitated, struggling internally, and ultimately decided not to go. After all, based on what Regulus had said last time, the fact that this invitation had reached her hands was likely due to that crazy woman, Bellatrix.

Although the seating arrangement at the last gathering had been loose, Lys had roughly discerned that the madwoman, the Lestranges, and the masked Malfoy with his entourage held significant status among the Death Eaters—perhaps even as upper echelons.

Given this, it was certain that the madwoman would stand by the Dark Lord's side. Surely, she wouldn't necessarily notice whether Lys attended or not, would she?

With two weeks until Christmas, it was probably time to submit her stay-at-school application in a few days.

Lys casually tucked the invitation into a book, downed a bottle of Soul Stabilizer, and went to class with her blurry vision.

However, two days before the holiday break, Lys received a letter from Noah in the Great Hall.

My Little Star,

I must admit, I have failed terribly—whether as a son, a husband, or your father.

I must be brief; Senna will be back soon.

If you don't want to join that organization, then don't attend the banquet, no matter what Senna tells you.

Orion Black came to see Senna. She was furious but didn't want to bring trouble to our home.

I'll try to persuade Senna to find a new place to live. Mrs. Last has passed away, and I can't let the Black family become a shadow over us again.

My Little Star, if you don't want to, then don't go.

Forgive me; my experience is too shallow to offer you advice as a father. But I hope you can protect yourself in my stead, alright?

Your father, Noah.

Beneath the signature was a half-drawn little wolf. Judging by the crumpled folds on the letter, he must have been startled by Mom's sudden return.

So, it wasn't Bellatrix who sent the invitation... but Walburga Black and her husband.

Lys reread the letter, feeling an inexplicable discomfort. What was wrong...

Reading it again.

Finally sorting her thoughts, Lys abruptly stood up from her chair. The screeching sound of the chair dragging against the floor echoed sharply, and due to the resistance, the chair toppled backward and slammed onto the ground with a loud bang.

Half the Great Hall turned to the source of the noise. Such an ungraceful sound coming from the Slytherin table—where even in the face of urgency, elegance was paramount—was bound to draw attention. Everyone wanted to see what was going on.

"What's happening, your..." The Slytherin Prefect, about to reprimand, raised his head but quickly lowered it again. Best not to provoke her.

The last person who crossed her still had a crooked nose, thanks to some unyielding reinforcement spell.

Lys stood there, clutching the letter, raising it closer to her eyes in an attempt to scrutinize every word.

Hearing her heavy breathing, those seated nearby tactfully moved away. How improper, truly improper—they would never admit that it was the oppressive magical waves emanating from Lys that made them uncomfortable.

That Orion Black—Lys knew who he was.

He was Walburga Black's husband. He actually went to see Dad and Mom.

That meant Dad might already know who sent the werewolf, and what the family he had pursued for twenty years had done to him. How heartbroken he must be.

To think that what he had longed for was the root of all his suffering...

And what did they mean by "finding a new place to live"?! That was her home—the home whose location she still didn't even know!

The very house that held the room she had dreamed of for over a decade, the room she hadn't even had the chance to live in properly...

That house was everything to her. All her efforts were for one goal—to live peacefully in that house with her mom and dad!

Clutching the letter tightly, Lys seethed. Just because the Black family had set their sights on it, her home was no longer hers?!

At the staff table, Slughorn sighed, pretending to be very interested in the whole-grain biscuits before him.

Lys was furious, unsure how to vent her anger, when yet another owl landed before her, clutching a note in its talons.

Little Madwoman:

I saw Noah write to you. I don't care what you're thinking. Either you manage to kill Walburga Black and her husband Orion outright, and I'll make sure our family relocates to Italy, no matter the cost.

If you can't, then behave and attend the banquet. Don't bring trouble to Noah again!

Lys felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over her, extinguishing all her anger, all the magical ripples around her.

Yes, her family was now confined to Britain. Over a decade ago, after Dad was bitten, the Ministry of Magic had registered him as a werewolf.

He could only leave the country through legal channels. Otherwise, if discovered as a stowaway abroad, werewolves would be classified as dangerous magical creatures, subject to control and even execution.

At that point, Dad would lose his identity as a wizard, as a human—his freedom, even his life.

And with the current travel approvals controlled by the elite families, the Blacks were among those with privileges...

Until she could openly kill those two, if she wanted her dad to live under the sun, she really couldn't afford to offend those maniacs.

This realization made Lys slam the table.

Milk splashed onto her sleeve, but she didn't care. Ignoring the various gazes behind her, Lys stormed out of the Great Hall, clutching the two letters. The intense emotions bottled up inside her felt like they were about to explode.

Suppressing the itch in her throat, Lys plunged into the Forbidden Forest. She needed to vent; otherwise, the continuous magical ripples and accumulation would worsen the silver glow in her eyes.

Even if only to remain inconspicuous, she had to maintain her state.

The Forbidden Forest was vast, one of the largest magical forests in Britain, with a rich diversity of species. Even in her agitated state, Lys remained vigilant.

After all, decades ago, a magical creature master named Newt had released some of his rescued creatures into the forest. In recent years, a certain creature-loving Hagrid had added to the mix, creating an astonishing biodiversity.

Fortunately, not far in, Lys encountered the Hippogriff she had once healed. It carried her, leaping from branch to branch amidst the dense canopy. The wind, mixed with fragments of snow, lashed against her face and shirt.

She hadn't even donned a cloak. The fury in her chest was so uncontainable that she no longer tried to suppress it. With a horizontal sweep of her wand, a crude Severing Charm felled a swath of treetops that the Hippogriff used to leap.

She even reignited that feeling... that in the vast forest, perched on the Hippogriff, it seemed as though the surrounding world was hers alone. As if, with a mere flick of her wand, everything could be torn apart—including...

Including those she hated!

A Dark spell, one Lys had never successfully cast before, burst from her wand tip. Trees and birds it touched withered and died.

Guiding her wand tip, Lys felt it for the first time.

The true nature of Dark magic—the way malice and emotion amplified its effects.

Because for the first time, she genuinely, sincerely wanted to kill someone while casting Dark magic.

That emotion filled the gaps in Lys's magical shortcomings.

For the first time, she realized that spells and magic existed to serve the wizard's intent.

No need for complete incantations; as long as the heart willed it and there was enough magic to sustain it, Dark magic became the blade in hand.

No wonder that Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had merely said Dumbledore "knew" Dark magic.

Knowing and embracing were two entirely different things.

As long as your heart was dark enough when casting, your magic would be equally dark.

Her previous self had been too peaceful! Too emotionally stable! Lys gripped her wand, releasing another spell.

She dispelled the Dark magic with a surge of magic, as the Hippogriff beneath her seemed to be allergic to it, sneezing and stumbling slightly.

Patting the Hippogriff, Lys leaned against a tree trunk, standing on a thick branch. Taking a deep breath, her magic pulsed outward, pounding the snowy ground and soil around her, layer by layer.

Lys unleashed her magic recklessly until the ground within a half-foot radius of her had sunk. Only then did she rub her eyes and climb back onto the Hippogriff's back, feeling a bit tired.

Fortunately, after this outburst, her eyes hadn't worsened.

Returning to her dormitory, Lys retrieved the invitation, biting her lip as she stared at the time and place written on it. She had one more question: On Christmas Day, could a Portkey take her away from Hogwarts? After all, Hogwarts was entirely anti-Apparition.

She sought out Professor Slughorn.

The answer was no. Unless the Headmaster and the Heads of Houses designated a specific area, Hogwarts would not allow any wizard to suddenly appear or disappear anywhere within its grounds.

Eyeing the invitation in Lys's hand, Slughorn licked his lips. As a socialite and talent collector, he had heard from several students about this banquet.

It would be both an act of favor and intimidation from the Dark Lord.

A declaration binding the Black family firmly to the Dark Lord's cause.

And a warning to all noble families... that the Dark Lord's patience was running thin.

With a sigh, Slughorn signed Lys's holiday leave slip, then penned yet another resignation letter to Dumbledore.

Slughorn was a coward. The question that child had asked him back then was a taboo among taboos. Now that child had become the Dark Lord of the wizarding world, her methods growing increasingly extreme. It was time for him to protect himself, wasn't it?

Lys also borrowed a piece of parchment and a quill from the professor.

Leaning against the Astronomy Tower's railing, she found herself at a loss for words. After a long pause, Lys flicked her wand to boil the frozen ink. Dipping her quill, she sketched a picture—a family of three sitting in front of a three-story house, eating chicken legs.

House-elf Coco was hanging laundry, fruit trees bore fruit in the backyard, and the distant hills rolled under a bright sun.

Senna's eyes held no gloom, Noah's legs bore no alchemical chains, and Gabo hung around Lys's neck.

Lys had always been skilled at drawing. With just a few strokes, she captured the scene vividly.

Casting a Drying Charm on the picture, Lys flipped it over and wrote on the back:

Dad, Mom:

Don't worry. See you tomorrow.

Lys found a sturdy-looking owl and carefully tied the letter to its leg.

Watching the owl fly further and further into the snow, Lys stood in the biting wind, her face expressionless as she gazed into the distance.

Her emotions had always been more stable than others'. Stable enough that unless someone struck a nerve, Lys would ignore them. She had always known this.

It was a habit formed in her childhood, facing a frazzled mother. To avoid further annoying her, Lys had forced herself to suppress her emotions.

No negative emotions allowed—anger? Rage? Dissatisfaction? Fear? None of them were permissible.

Lock them away!

Hide them!

She had to appear calm, invisible, obedient.

Her mother had to deal with her father, a werewolf who was often too weak to sit up, while facing unknown enemies. She couldn't show herself in the normal wizarding world, had no savings, and had to obtain potions to nurse her father's health. She fought in an unfamiliar underground world abroad until things stabilized.

She bore it all alone, yet still reached out to Lys. Back then, it was to make life a little better. Now, she was the only constant in Lys's small world, the one who had never given up on her. So she deserved Lys's full attention.

But those maniacs—what right did they have to demand her tolerance? The darkness they had sown in Lys's heart was indelible.

Turning, Lys gripped her wand tightly as she descended the Astronomy Tower. For now, she still had to endure, because she lacked the power.

But darkness...? She would repay it all, double.

"They won't get away with it," she vowed.

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