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"Poppy, while that might be the case, we can't entirely dismiss the possibility that Potter and Black provoked Stalys by attempting to attack her snake during Transfiguration class. At the time, Stalys seemed extremely tense," McGonagall said, her tone tinged with embarrassment. After all, the incident had occurred in her own classroom.
Slughorn, who had remained silent, reached into his pocket and pulled out two pieces of chocolate. Handing them to Hagrid, he said, "Place these on Lys's bedside table, will you?"
"I've been meaning to ask—what's with that lily? Can't we get the snake to let go of it? That species is highly venomous. If its fangs are disturbed and venom leaks out, it could be disastrous."
Hagrid spat out a bit of beard that had gotten into his mouth. "I tried, but no luck. Gubbon won't open its mouth or let me take the flower away."
"That must be the flower Lys grew herself," Hagrid said with a slight eye roll. "She showed it off to me once! Said I wasn't refined enough, only liking big and mighty creatures. Told me I should appreciate smaller, more delicate things…"
"What did you say?" Snape interrupted sharply, his expression suddenly alert. "Hagrid, are you saying this flower—this singing lily—was grown by Stalys Black?"
"Could be," Hagrid replied, scratching his ear and sniffing. "She did brag about it to me, said she had a magical singing lily. Smells about the same, too. She mentioned it was about to bloom and that she'd been waiting nearly a year."
"Ha! Professors, it's obvious," Snape said, his face twisting in disdain. "That idiotic Potter stole Stalys's flower to woo Lily Evans and got caught red-handed!"
In the background, Lupin buried his face in his hands, mortified. To think that stealing someone's flower had led to such a disastrous fight, leaving them all in the hospital wing—it was beyond embarrassing. But he couldn't deny that Snape's deduction was close to the truth.
The reality was that it had been Sirius who, upon catching the scent of lilies on Stalys, had goaded James into using the flower to flirt with Lily Evans. The connection between Lily's name and the flower seemed like a perfect match to Sirius.
Sirius's idea was simple: his best friend would get the girl, and their hated rival would lose her prized possession. Lupin had wanted to intervene, but as they were his only friends at Hogwarts, he feared alienating them.
Now, overwhelmed by shame and regret, Lupin nearly broke into tears, attracting Snape's attention. "What's the matter, Lupin? Do you have a different version of events?"
Lupin wished he could faint right then and there. Worse yet, Peter's shrill voice from the other side of the room was screeching, "That's not true!"—when it absolutely was.
"Sirius asked me about the scent on Stalys Black, and I told him it was a singing lily. Maybe…" Lupin trailed off, seeing the look of contempt on Snape's face and the disbelief in Lily Evans's eyes. He decided there was no point in hiding the truth any longer.
"Sirius hates Stalys Black, so he and James went to… to…" He couldn't bring himself to say "steal." Rubbing his fingers together nervously, he continued, "They went to pick the flower before the Quidditch match to give it to Lily Evans."
"But Stalys Black rarely watches Quidditch, so we didn't plan for what would happen if she caught us. Then, out of nowhere, she attacked James," Lupin sighed deeply, resigning himself to the fallout. "Stalys didn't directly attack anyone else. It was me—I stepped on the flower while checking on James."
As Hagrid gasped audibly, Lupin groaned and continued, "Then Sirius and I drew our wands. Oh, and Peter too."
"And then you started fighting?" Slughorn asked, struggling to comprehend how nearly all of the year's top students had ended up in the hospital wing—over a flower.
Though the fight had been intense and nerve-wracking for onlookers, Professor McGonagall's timely intervention had prevented any lasting damage. Apart from some deep external wounds on Lys, the others had escaped with minor injuries. Sirius had been pulled back from the brink of death due to blood loss and would only bear a few scars as a reminder.
Lily Evans was speechless as Professors McGonagall and Slughorn docked twenty points from each of their respective houses. She pointed accusingly at the row of four Gryffindor beds but couldn't find the words to express her frustration.
That insufferable Potter! Stealing a flower!
After dismissing the uninvolved students, McGonagall awarded ten points to the Slytherin student who had cast the Levitation Charm to save Potter.
Madam Pomfrey wanted to change Lys's clothes, but Gubbon wouldn't let anyone touch her. The girl remained bloodied, her hair matted to her forehead, and her clothes tattered.
McGonagall used a spell to remove the remnants of Lys's cloak, then transfigured her shirt and trousers into loose-fitting pajamas.
Gubbon, perched on Lys's pillow with the flower still in its mouth, raised its head as if sensing something. However, its walnut-sized brain couldn't discern much, so it settled back down.
Before leaving, Hagrid used a towel the size of his hand to wipe Lys's face. "Oh, what a nasty gash," he muttered before returning to his hut.
Lys woke in the middle of the night, Gubbon coiled around her left arm, which was still bound by silver ribbons of light.
"Who's there?" she called out.
The hospital wing wasn't entirely dark; some lights remained on, casting shadows. Lys could make out a tall figure bent over a bed, inspecting something.
"Who is it?" she asked again, this time reaching for her wand on the pillow beside her.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sharper now.
The light in Madam Pomfrey's office flicked on, and the figure was illuminated. Clad in a vivid purple robe and pointed hat, with a crooked nose visible as he greeted Madam Pomfrey, it was unmistakably Headmaster Dumbledore.
He looked weary and somber as he addressed Pomfrey. "The portraits informed me of the situation. Poppy, I've been Apparating all evening. Would you mind fetching me some Invigoration Draught?"
As Pomfrey went to retrieve the potion, Dumbledore turned back to Lys.
"Child, using dark magic is a dangerous thing—for both you and your classmates," Dumbledore said, peering over his glasses. The reflection in his lenses gave him an air of unyielding authority. "I must say, you went too far this time. Your magic hurt them, and you owe them an apology."
Lys gripped her wand tightly in her right hand, her gaze fixed on her left side. She refused to meet Dumbledore's eyes.
"I hurt them?" she asked, her tone different now.
"Yes, you did," Dumbledore replied calmly.
"Where?" Lys challenged, her voice rising. Dumbledore raised his wand, illuminating the beds nearby. With a wave, images appeared: Potter with broken bones and a concussion, Black covered in scars, and Lupin pale and weak. "Child…"
"Don't call me 'child,'" Lys snapped, finally meeting Dumbledore's gaze. Her eyes burned with defiance.
"It wasn't dark magic that clouded my mind," she said. "It was fear, their relentless provocation, and their actions that forced my hand. They don't deserve forgiveness! Their boundaryless taunts, disrespect, harm, theft, and robbery—they all deserved to be taught a lesson."
"And you, Headmaster," she continued, her voice trembling with anger. "If you truly cared about every student, where were you when they hurt me, when they made me suffer, when they took the only things I had?"
"You'd say that little wizards should resolve their conflicts themselves. But now that I've resolved mine, you're telling me I shouldn't have hurt my classmates?"
Does my pain and suffering mean nothing?
Am I just supposed to endure it?
"You were awake?" Dumbledore asked, recalling a time in her first year when he had spoken similar words, believing she had been asleep.
"Yes, I was awake."
Yes, I was awake. I've come to realize that this school isn't the perfect haven I once thought it was. Anything good here must be protected by oneself.
Dumbledore, his expression unreadable, gave Lys a long, searching look.