HP: The Stellar Witch [OFC]

Lys wasn't bored. She had a shrunken, shiny lunchbox in her pocket, filled with warm food. Standing by the railing, she idly kneaded her magic, occasionally expanding it around her to experiment with new ways of sensing.

"Magic, target emotion, and determination," Lys recalled Professor Flitwick's repeated emphasis. Ever since she lost her sight and her magic became unruly, Lys deeply felt the impact of unstable emotions on her magic.

Sensing the stairs, Lys quickly stepped onto them. Anywhere would be fine as long as there were portraits and people who could talk.

This environment, devoid of sight and sound, was unsettling.

This time was better; the portrait told her she was on the second floor. If she bypassed this corridor, there would be a fixed staircase leading down to the Great Hall and then back to the common room. Lys recalled her mental map of the castle and planned her route.

Due to the many classrooms and people on the second floor, Lys compressed her magic to her feet to avoid disturbing others. She moved forward, feeling her way along the wall.

When Gulp's tail and a young boy's scream reached Lys's ears, a sharp spearhead was already pressing into her cheek.

Blood dripped to the floor almost instantly.

Normally, when injured, people would instinctively move away from the source of harm. However, Lys remained motionless, allowing the spearhead to pierce her flesh.

"Hahaha, I told you she's blind. What are you afraid of? She's just a bastard's child, nothing to be scared of."

Despite his words, the seventh-year Slytherin took two steps back behind his lackey.

Firth was indignant. After that gathering in Diagon Alley, his father had harshly reprimanded him at home, saying he was inferior to a bastard's child. Upon inquiry, it turned out to be that red-haired Black in the house.

This term, the much-praised Starlys Black was late and blind, which was the happiest news for Firth since the start of the school year.

Firth was determined to vent his anger. Seeing her walking along the wall and noticing a suit of armor with a spear ahead, he simply redirected the armor's position, causing the gleaming spearhead to stab into her eye.

"Too bad I didn't gouge your eye out completely. A blind eye suits your status, you identity-thieving red-haired rat!"

Lys wasn't standing still for show or bravado; the spear had barbs, and pulling away would cause more pain and bleeding.

As this fool spewed his venom, Lys noticed that the bleeding left side of her face felt cold, and importantly, her left eye could see clearer outlines than her right.

Hissing in pain, Lys tore her face away from the weapon, exclaiming, "Ah! That hurts!"

Her cry startled the nearby young wizard, who quickly ran off to tell a teacher!

Blood flowed even faster now.

Covering her face, Lys waved her wand and cast several Protego charms on herself, uncertain if the other party would attack again.

Someone approached to support Lys, placing a handkerchief over her face.

"You can't do this; the professor will be here soon!" a boy's voice warned.

Lys let her magic flow freely, wiping her face with the handkerchief, unconcerned about causing trouble. "Thank you, but please step aside. Everyone not involved, move away. I was having a good few days, and now these fools keep running into me?"

Standing arrogantly, Firth retorted, "What can a blind girl do?" But his spell wasn't as bold as his words; the poorly cast spell didn't even break through Lys's Protego charm.

His two lackeys tried to flee but were blocked by someone—it was Thomas, the blond who once spread rumors about Lys defying the Dark Lord.

"Why run? Even if she's a skilled blind girl, I don't believe she can take on four or five people."

As it turned out, she could. Lys's magic was far stronger than theirs. She only needed to disrupt the magic around them to render them unable to cast spells, then bind them with a few Incarcerous spells.

Then it was Lys's solo performance. Afraid to use other spells in case she accidentally killed them, she opted for—

Her fists.

Punching noses, kicking stomachs, Lys swung her bloodied face at them until they cried out in pain, stopping only when Professor McGonagall intervened with a sigh.

"Stop! Fighting in the corridor, you two houses—" Seeing the beaten Slytherins, she paused. It wasn't one of her Gryffindors getting pummeled, so her house's reputation and points were safe. But seeing Lys's face, any fleeting satisfaction turned to heartache.

"Your face! You little ruffians! Twenty points deducted. My Merlin!"

Lys tilted her head, rubbing her knuckles, realizing she had punched too hard and broken the skin.

"Professor, if you could, I need to go to the hospital wing."

"And," Lys added, turning toward the fallen students as best she could remember.

"A bastard is an identity my father couldn't choose, but he didn't try to claim what wasn't his, so he's not wrong! If I hear about this again, I'll beat you again. Try me."

Though her aim was slightly off, Lys's presence was still intimidating.

Covering her cheek, Lys followed the prefect McGonagall sent to the hospital wing.

Earning Madam Pomfrey's ten-minute-long exclamations.

Madam Pomfrey applied scar-removal potion while icing Lys's knuckles. Skin healed well, but swelling needed treatment.

"You once said you wanted to be a healer at St. Mungo's. Although that's no longer possible at a formal hospital, there are still many things you can do, aren't there? Don't take to heart what those brainless kids say."

Madam Pomfrey didn't voice her thought that sometimes certain choices were better than living surrounded by danger.

"I'm surprised you came back."

"My father likes seeing 'Outstanding' on my report card, Madam. And school is safer for me now that I'm a bit famous. It's hard to leave the country now... and the Dark Lord doesn't take in dropouts, right?" Lys touched the scar on her face. "Besides, Madam, I don't think I can't handle a few Slytherin fools."

"Who? Slytherin?" Madam Pomfrey was puzzled; wasn't it with Gryffindors?

"If they dare to insult my father, I'll beat them until they don't dare anymore!"

Though she couldn't see, Lys mimicked Dumbledore's wink. "Madam, apart from those odd-looking Ravenclaws and Slytherins, at Hogwarts, I might only need to worry about the professors."

"Ah, yes, yes, only worry about professors not giving you 'Outstanding,' right? Before the O.W.L.s last term, you had Babbling so anxious she came to me for sleeping draughts." Madam Pomfrey chuckled, taking away the ice packs.

"As long as you know your limits. Things outside aren't so good now." She muttered softly, then asked if Lys needed someone to escort her back, to which Lys shook her head.

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