It had only been a week since school started, but Professor Hamilton's and Professor Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes had already become the hottest topics at Hogwarts.
Professor Lockhart had given a ridiculous pop quiz about his own autobiography in his very first class and even caused a lot of trouble. The Cornish Pixies he released ran wild in the classroom and were eventually stopped by Professor Snape, who had been patrolling the corridors.
Professor Hamilton's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, however, was definitely not as lighthearted or humorous.
Most students believed that Professor Hamilton's class should simply be renamed "Dark Arts," dropping the "Defense Against" entirely.
Many students were quite scared by the incredibly realistic Killing Curse in her memory projection, and there were even wild rumors that a second-year student had been hit by it and was hospitalized in the infirmary for several days.
Lyla also knew that her recent classes had caused quite a stir. She had received many letters from students. Some asked curious, innocent questions, such as whether she was hiding a werewolf muzzle under her silver mask.
Others sought dark guidance; many Slytherin students seemed to genuinely think Lyla was some kind of powerful dark witch... although she actually was.
'But that doesn't mean I actually dare to teach the Dark Arts at Hogwarts!'
Some students even asked very strange questions. For example, several older girls asked if Lyla had Mr. Muller's contact information... or his home address.
Lyla had never received so many letters in her life. Of course, this didn't mean she was happy about it.
These weren't lovely letters from friends like Luna Lovegood or Remus Lupin... These were letters from unpredictable students. 'Who knows if something like a death threat is hidden in that envelope?'
'Or perhaps something slightly unsettling like, "I know who you are and I'm telling the Aurors."'
Therefore, when replying, Lyla was always concise, mostly ending with "No, I don't know, no." Occasionally, she would answer some serious academic questions regarding the Dark Arts... but she felt her brief replies probably weren't very good.
But simple letters were still tolerable. What was most troublesome were the metal memory headbands that were sometimes sent back along with the letters.
'I don't know what they do with these headbands during the day, resulting in damaged Magic Arrays being sent to my desk every morning... This is the most malicious act!'
While painstakingly repairing the delicate Magic Array props, Lyla fiercely memorized the names of those destructive students. 'Once Dumbledore falls and Lord Grindelwald returns, I will settle scores one by one!'
'Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Parkinson, Mr. Weasley... Why are they almost all Weasleys?!'
Just as Lyla was fuming, she suddenly heard a sharp knock on her office door.
"Professor Hamilton, I need to speak with you!"
'It's the stern Deputy Headmistress!'
'Why... why is she here?!'
A deeply surprised Lyla quickly waved her ebony wand to tidy the room and frantically pulled her hood up.
'She... she couldn't be here to fire me, could she?'
Lyla, looking a bit pale under her mask, walked to the door, carefully pushed it open a crack, and poked her head out.
"McGonagall... Professor McGonagall... it's an honor to meet you..." She stammered out the most respectful greeting she could manage.
"The honor is mine," McGonagall's voice sounded quite serious and clipped. "It's an honor to meet you."
"Eek!" Lyla squeaked.
'I'm definitely going to be fired!'
Professor McGonagall frowned, pushed the door fully open, and walked in. She surveyed the dimly lit office before slowly sitting down.
"Professor Hamilton, do you know what has happened this past week regarding your classes?"
"I... I know I was wrong!" Seeing McGonagall's stern expression, Lyla immediately panicked. She quickly bowed ninety degrees and pleaded, "Please... please don't fire me!"
"Even if you fire me as a Professor... please... please give me a job... like cleaning the castle..."
"I'm definitely cleaner than those... those house-elves..." Lyla's voice grew softer and softer until it was completely inaudible.
"Professor Hamilton, I am not here to fire you." Seeing the masked witch tremble so violently, McGonagall paused. She shook her head, her strict displeasure turning into a hint of genuine sympathy.
"I am merely here to remind you," she paused and said clearly, "Please do not demonstrate the Unforgivable Curses in class."
"I... I didn't..." Lyla said subconsciously, trying to defend herself. "That was... that was Mr. William..."
"Who is Mr. William?" McGonagall paused and asked.
"The Durmstrang... Dark Arts Professor..." Lyla whispered.
"Then please tell him not to use Unforgivable Curses in your classroom," McGonagall took a deep breath. She had felt a bit sympathetic due to Miss Hamilton's clear anxiety, but now she felt a headache coming on.
"But he... he should already be dead," Lyla whispered nervously. "He was over fifty back then, and it's been over fifty years since..."
"My point is, please do not show students memory fragments related to the Unforgivable Curses in class anymore!" McGonagall said, straightening her posture and her expression.
That's right, memory fragments. What Harry and the others saw were not scenes Lyla conjured with illusion magic, but rather the actual Durmstrang lessons she had truly experienced.
She used the Memory array based on Riddle's diary to store her memories in the headbands, and then used Connection and Transmission arrays to share them seamlessly with the students.
She had already felt that Durmstrang's curriculum might not be entirely suitable for Hogwarts students, so she had specifically modified it. For example, she blurred out her own face to hide her Half-Veela traits, and blurred the wand gestures of the Dark Arts so the students couldn't actually cast them.
'But it seems that wasn't enough...' Looking at the strict Professor McGonagall, Lyla pursed her lips and said, "I will... I will strictly screen my memories..."
"If that's really not enough... if... if Professor McGonagall wishes to see them... you can review them first..." Unconsciously, Lyla's tone became incredibly deferential.
"Review?" McGonagall was taken aback. She shook her head gently and said, "I am not questioning your magical ability, Miss Hamilton."
"To be able to create such complex Magic Array props already proves your immense talent."
"But..." Looking at Lyla, who was pale and kept shaking her head to frantically deny her own talent, McGonagall sighed. "But you need to understand what kind of courses are actually suitable for Hogwarts students."
"Understand?" Lyla was stunned.
"Hmm." McGonagall thought for a moment and proposed, "Perhaps you could audit the other Professors' classes."
"You should still have a few days until your next Defense Against the Dark Arts class, right?"
"Three... three days..."
"Then I hope you can listen to other Professors' classes during these three days," McGonagall said slowly. "Perhaps you will better understand Hogwarts' teaching methods."
"I... I can't... I can't do it..." Lyla felt that she absolutely couldn't go into someone else's classroom to audit a class!
She would definitely attract a lot of the students' attention! Just going to the restroom these past few days, Lyla had already encountered countless students enthusiastically greeting her in the halls.
Each cheerful "Hello, Professor Hamilton!" was almost enough to send her into cardiac arrest and straight to Madam Pomfrey.
Seeing Lyla's terrified, resistant expression, McGonagall pursed her lips and said, "Since the Professor's method won't work... then let's try the student's method."
"The student's... method?" Lyla was stunned.
"Hmm." McGonagall slowly rose and walked to the door of the room. "I will explain the situation to the other Professors."
"You just need to attend class alongside the other students." She said. Seeing the fiercely resistant expression still on Lyla's face, she couldn't help but recall the manipulation method Dumbledore had told her.
"Miss Hamilton, I trust you very much." McGonagall said word for word, locking eyes with the masked girl. "I hope you will not disappoint me."
"Dis... disappoint?"
"How... how could I..." Hearing that heavy word, Lyla shivered and immediately caved. "I will go... I will go to class!"
Click.
As the office door closed, Lyla, like a deflated balloon, slid down the wall and sat heavily on the floor.
'I've been trusted again... But this kind of thing...' Lyla pursed her lips and looked at the school's class schedule.
The closest class... was Mr. Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts class for the older students. Thinking of that sunny and cheerful man, Lyla took a deep breath and clenched her fists with determination.
'I can't disappoint Professor McGonagall!'
'I have to learn Mr. Lockhart's teaching style perfectly!'
Minerva McGonagall, walking down the hall delighted that Lyla had accepted her suggestion, did not know that her most troublesome Professor Lockhart was very likely to become two.