Lys had prepared everything, even having double portions of potions and materials ready.
Looking at the ring and bead string on her left hand, Lys gulped hard. She set a timed spell at the infirmary door; if she didn't cancel it in time, it would send a note inside requesting help.
Removing the ring and bead string and placing them in a small wooden box, Lys piled everything onto the bed, making space for herself and the materials: blood-stopping potion, sedative, and a self-emptying trash bin.
Skele-Gro...
Lys glanced at Gabon but ultimately placed it in its snake nest, setting a magical restriction. Initially, she planned to entrust it to Hagrid or Snape but, after much hesitation, decided to keep it by her side.
Her right hand trembled for a long time before she finally cast a cutting spell, which went off-target.
How could she not be afraid? But if she remained fearful, this mark from the past, which her entire family cared about, would linger in her life, reminding her with each glance, and the fear would be endless...
Standing before the array of magical formations, potions, and materials, Lys gritted her teeth and finally cut into the scarred and pitted flesh of her left arm.
From infancy to now, Lys's arm had relied on magic to function normally, with broken bones and dislocated tendons not in their usual state.
So Lys couldn't drink the sedative to numb herself; she needed to truly feel every reaction to her spells and cuts to determine her next steps.
Fortunately, this pain was much less than when Snape helped treat the curse on her right hand, and Lys had always had a high tolerance for pain.
She continuously cut away the flesh that instinctively healed through magic, ultimately using spells and curses to fix the cut shape.
Sweating profusely, she groped for her bones amidst the flesh, drinking bottle after bottle of blood-replenishing potion and Skele-Gro, suppressing the urge to cough from the potion's irritation, removing the excess from the permanent damage left by childhood, and waiting for the missing parts to slowly grow.
To slow down the overly rapid growth, Lys had to use dark magic to cause greater harm, then heal these injuries after some time to balance their growth rate.
Cold sweat dripped from her brows and eyes as she used her willow wand to accelerate the growth of the missing parts. She placed the removed bone fragments in the cursed array, using her bone remains to curse and extract the mingled power of werewolves, full moons, potions, and spells left in the tendons and muscles. Although the results were minimal, Lys was overjoyed.
What had been mere theory now bore fruit, and Lys couldn't help but smile, tilting her head to wipe the sweat from her face.
The arm in front of her bled continuously, with bones and tissues twisting and growing rapidly under the influence of spells and Skele-Gro, encroaching on the space for normal growth. Lys could only repeatedly endure the pain of carving her own bones and flesh, cursing to extract the damage.
She was dissatisfied.
The physical repair was done, but what about the soul?
Even after nearly two days, she was close to her limit.
No matter how she sculpted, the arc in the middle of the radius was always wrong.
She pushed herself to the brink of unbearable pain, her body shaking uncontrollably.
The blood-replenishing potions in front of her were running out; even if there were more, she couldn't drink them. Her body was at its limit. As her vision began to darken, Lys no longer had the strength to undo the curses and spells fixing her flesh in place.
Pouring a vial of soul stabilizer down her throat, she struggled to open her dormitory door, collapsing on the stairs of the girls' dormitory, looking at the transparent dome of the common room and shouting,
"Help! Someone, help!"
She lay face down on the steps, clutching her left arm, blood flowing down her chin, splitting behind her ears, soaking into her disheveled hair, staining it even redder.
Sunlight shimmered on the water above the dome, casting rippling light, and Lys squinted slightly, watching the giant squid suck on the glass ceiling, eating fish and basking in the sun.
Her right hand reached into the open flesh of her left arm, feeling the straight bone, and she couldn't help but laugh heartily, mouth wide open.
She laughed until her vision went black, until the blood on her face dried and scabbed, itching.
She placed her wand on her throat, using a Sonorus charm as weak as when her father first spoke for her,
"Someone's dying, help!"
A prefect arrived at the sound, standing beside Lys but not touching her. The thick residue of dark magic and curses on Lys made her hesitate, so she had some students who had just returned from outside fetch the head of the house.
By the time Slughorn arrived, Lys was nearly unconscious, her head involuntarily twitching, her right hand still clutching the arm bone she had painfully restored.
Feeling the thin but smooth flow of magic within her body, she forced herself to stay awake, smiling at the giant squid on the dome. Had it finished eating and was now swimming away?
Her eyes reddened as she swallowed another useless blood-replenishing potion; her body had no energy left to convert. The new arm bone absorbed the passing power, Lys felt it being filled and assimilated bit by bit, the sensation growing colder.
The healing process had nearly exhausted her magic; she had indeed... overestimated herself, pouring everything into the effort.
The dried blood on her body itched, but she had no strength to scratch it.
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