After confirming the identity of the red-haired fifth-year senior, known for her excellent spellcasting, bravery, strength, and intelligence in deceiving bad people, Professor Sprout respected Lys's request and awarded Slytherin 50 points for saving the school's precious property in the heavy snow. Rumors spread that Lys had reinforced the greenhouse, preventing it from collapsing under the snow.
Only Evans looked at the Slytherin badge on Snape's chest with an unclear expression in response to such a perfunctory reason.
Meanwhile, Snape was engrossed in a book on curse-breaking borrowed from the Malfoy family.
"No problem, learned about counter-curses a week ago? We can try it. Lately, it's been really annoying, always feeling drowsy, and my arm in the brace is either in pain or soaking wet," Lys agreed cheerfully to Snape's suggestion.
Counter-curses can be somewhat dangerous; if unsuccessful, they might backfire. Therefore, Lys took him to the infirmary.
Counter-curses are a form of Defense Against the Dark Arts, nothing shady about it, and for their safety, Snape agreed.
Although Madam Pomfrey still suggested Lys wait for Headmaster Dumbledore or let a teacher handle it, she silently brought enough potions as backup when Lys pulled out her perpetually bleeding arm from the brace.
Lys had never tried the Cruciatus Curse, but when the wound repeatedly burst open, and fresh blood appeared, she thought it must be similar.
Cold sweat dripped down Lys's face to her chin. The pain wasn't just physical; she felt a tremor in her soul, an indescribable shiver that transmitted to her body, nearly collapsing her onto the bed, biting her teeth to suppress her screams!
She wished she could go back to the time near the bookshelf and slap herself hard for being so ruthless!
Finally, one wound healed, and Snape, also sweating profusely, stopped.
"It worked. Was it a curse you cast on yourself?" That look of disbelief filled his eyes...
Lys tiredly laughed, "Ha, I admire myself for achieving this effect, especially since I didn't even have my wand then! Maybe I had a death wish? Haha, just kidding!" Lys quickly explained under Madam Pomfrey's stern gaze.
Lys tucked her arm, now with one less wound and no longer constantly bleeding, back into the brace, giving Snape a thumbs-up, "You're amazing. You can perform counter-curses of this level. You're so excellent!"
Madam Pomfrey, while administering blood-replenishing potions to Lys, agreed.
Faced with such straightforward praise, Snape couldn't help but feel proud, raising his head and leaving the infirmary with reddened ears.
Indeed, even the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher might not understand the curse-breaking book, let alone learn to operate it in a week.
Lys lay on the hospital bed, marveling at Snape's terrifying learning ability and meticulous mind.
She had learned curses quite smoothly, even with some talent, but counter-curses... She had been learning them since she started with curses and hadn't even mastered the simplest ones. She was impatient with deducing and responding, almost unable to do it.
When facing curses weaker than herself, she would dismantle them violently.
Learning advanced counter-curses in just a week...
Lys remembered a book in the library where the author lamented at the end: an 'O' (Outstanding) requires everything to be just right, but that essential component, called talent, isn't something everyone possesses.
Her father had a similar note scribbled in a book:
"What's the use of diligence? In the path of magic, talent is Merlin's final decision."
Talent is the key.
Sighing, Lys felt the pain had subsided a bit, got up, took a stack of blood-replenishing potions, and bid farewell to Madam Pomfrey.
The next counter-curse attempt was before the Christmas holidays, with Madam Pomfrey suggesting it be left to a professor. Ultimately, only the Arithmancy teacher and Professor Flitwick could understand and perform it.
As for Headmaster Dumbledore? He couldn't be found.
But Lys vowed never to use Professor Flitwick again!
The professor's control over magic was perfect, but during the deduction and breaking process, he hesitated, causing Lys to scream uncontrollably in pain, and then the professor completely panicked, this former dueling champion's hand shook while holding his wand!
"Oh, my student is screaming, oh, I can't do this, it's too terrifying!" This counter-curse attempt was utterly ineffective, not a single wound healed, and Lys was bedridden for two more days.
Seeing this result, the Arithmancy teacher backed out, "My control over magic is terrible, I don't think I can do it either."
Ultimately, the task fell back to Snape.
On the last day of the Christmas holiday, as Lys lay on the infirmary bed enduring the pain of the counter-curse, Dumbledore arrived. Lys, shivering, demanded, "Extra points! He's doing your job!"
Her grimace of pain scared Dumbledore into nodding hurriedly, "Alright, alright, Mr. Snape did well. If it were me, I'd only be a bit better."
Lys didn't believe he'd only be a bit better, but she didn't want Dumbledore near her, those pitying eyes behind the glasses...
Disgusting!
But she wronged the headmaster; he indeed didn't know much about curses.
Snape occasionally experimented with his potions and spells on her wounds, which Lys accepted, except when Snape asked her to stick her arm into a cauldron emitting a manure stench.
"As long as it smells like this, I refuse to cooperate!" Lys nearly fled, and two days later, under Snape's murderous gaze, she stuck her arm into the odorless cauldron filled with what seemed like rotting matter.
Lys hesitated and glanced at Snape, "It's not painful anymore, whether on the arm or... well, it's just..." Almost immediately, Lys was knocked out by the potion's power.
"A sedative, too strong, what's wrong with it?" Snape muttered, contemplating over the rigidly paralyzed Lys Black.
When Lys struggled to get up from the floor, the numbing sensation still lingered on her fingertips and tongue.
"Share the recipe, it's too strong, is this a knockout potion?"
Lys couldn't resist trying the recipe, with Snape recording everything with a quill, restraining himself from criticizing the rough shaking and handling, examining the final product.
Lys's concoction was as thin as transparent water.
Its appearance was obviously unsuccessful, yet it emitted a seemingly reasonable scent.
Unable to discern the difference, Snape lightly dipped a finger and quickly wiped it off.
Shorten the stirring time after dissolving the tree snake skin and venom, add a solidifying agent, then incorporate dragon sinew powder?
Snape had known since first year that Lys was skilled with potion ingredients. But he couldn't fathom why she did it this way.
Could this be the instinct mentioned in their family's library books?
"Why?" Snape asked.
"What why?" Lys replied, puzzled, while tidying her silver knife.
"Shortening the stirring time and the solidifying agent."
"The confusion or anesthetic effect comes from the reaction between tree snake skin and venom. The longer the stirring, the stronger the effect might be, but if you just shorten it, when you add the brain matter later, it still needs stirring, so it will continue reacting. Though I'm not sure why, the solidifying agent can solidify part of the biological venom, stopping the reaction."
Lys tried her best to explain, unsure if Snape understood.
He still looked up at her with questioning eyes.
Lys lowered her head and continued explaining:
"This can all be achieved through an in-depth understanding of the materials and mastering the changes under different conditions."
Lys glanced at the cauldron beside her and sighed, "You're so excellent and patient, and you love potions. You'll be the greatest potions master in Britain in a hundred years!"
So stop looking at me with such questions, I can't explain it clearly...
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