Professor McGonagall hurried toward the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, her robes swishing and her face full of bewilderment.
She hadn't expected a Hogwarts Professor to faint during class. She certainly hadn't expected this Professor to faint during someone else's class, and even less had she expected it to happen during Gilderoy Lockhart's class.
As she reached the entrance of the Hospital Wing, she saw a visibly embarrassed Lockhart standing at the doorway.
"Ah, Professor McGonagall." Lockhart forced a smile. "This matter shouldn't have anything to do with me..."
"It's just that she was too excited as my fan... This is very common among students." He chuckled, rubbing his hands nervously. "So... can I leave now?"
"..."
McGonagall took a deep breath, then simply nodded. She was afraid that if she spoke, she would turn Lockhart into a speechless stone with a Transfiguration spell.
Watching Lockhart scurry away, she pursed her lips and pushed open the heavy doors of the Hospital Wing.
There weren't many people inside. Madam Pomfrey was sorting potions in her office, and there were only two people occupying the white-sheeted hospital beds.
"McGonagall... Professor McGonagall?" Seeing the stern witch walk in, Lyla's disguised brown hair stood on end, and the hidden pointed ears beneath it instinctively perked up.
"Hamilton..." McGonagall was about to speak when she noticed the other person lying in the adjacent bed.
It was Ron Weasley, one of Gryffindor's most notorious bigmouths.
Although he seemed to be fast asleep, McGonagall still lowered her voice. She walked to Lyla's bedside before asking, "What happened?"
"What did Professor Lockhart do?"
"He... he didn't do anything..." Lyla said with a hint of deep shame. "It was my own... my own fault."
"Mr. Lockhart wanted to praise me... but I... I fainted because I was too... too scared..."
"..."
McGonagall no longer wanted to ask why Lockhart would publicly praise Lyla. She only wanted to ask why anyone would faint over such a trivial thing.
But... she remembered Miss Hamilton's traumatic experiences at Durmstrang Institute... and her usual terrified demeanor.
"Miss Hamilton," McGonagall said softly. "Perhaps it's my fault... I shouldn't have forced you to audit those classes."
"Rather than having you attend them, perhaps it would be better to simply let me review the memories you intend to use in class..."
Professor McGonagall's words made Lyla quickly shake her head.
"No... no," Lyla said, pursing her pale lips. "I've already agreed to it... Professor McGonagall..."
"And in Mr. Lockhart's class... I... I really learned a lot."
'Then I absolutely cannot let you attend his class ever again!' Hearing Lyla mention Lockhart as an educational role model, McGonagall took a very deep breath. She pursed her lips, considered her words carefully, and then spoke.
"Miss Hamilton, your health is vastly more important than the curriculum."
"Can you guarantee that you won't faint again if you attend another class?"
Her strict words silenced Lyla. She really couldn't guarantee that.
'If Mr. Lockhart were to... speak to me like that again...' Lyla quickly patted her own face to prevent herself from passing out just thinking about it.
Seeing Lyla's guilty silence, McGonagall continued. "You are a genius, Miss Hamilton."
"Don't rush to deny that." She gently raised her hand to stop Lyla from stammering out a refusal. "Because of that... Miss Hamilton, I believe you can teach students very well by using your memory arrays."
"And I also believe in Durmstrang's educational capabilities."
"It's just..." McGonagall paused, and then said earnestly, "You need some... discretion."
"Particularly in your selection of memories." As she spoke, she glanced pointedly at the snoring red-haired boy lying on the other bed.
"Mr. Weasley is still lying here recovering because he walked too close to the Killing Curse in your memory projection," she said softly. "So, Miss Hamilton... as a Professor..."
"You cannot ignore any factor that might have a severely negative psychological impact on the students." She slowly stood up and looked down at the stunned Lyla. "In this regard, I trust you."
With that, she slowly turned to leave. But as she reached the door, she seemed to remember something incredibly important and quickly walked back.
"Also, Miss Hamilton," she added sternly. "Do not emulate Professor Lockhart's teaching methods."
"They are certainly not suitable for you."
"Mm... mm..." Lyla actually felt the exact same way. 'I could never be as cheerful and generous as Mr. Lockhart.'
Watching McGonagall leave the wing, Lyla let out a soft sigh and slowly slid out of her hospital bed. Her heart was quite conflicted at this moment.
She hadn't come to Hogwarts to teach students... she was there for Dumbledore's promise to take her to Nurmengard to see Lord Grindelwald.
She also needed to gain Dumbledore's trust. But... Lyla absolutely did not want innocent people to be harmed because of her actions, especially children.
'Even though I'm technically not much older than them myself.'
She pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and looked guiltily at Ron Weasley, who was fast asleep.
'I must not do this again... Lyla... neither Dad nor Mom would want to see something like this happen...'
Click.
Just as Lyla was feeling a bit sad, the heavy wooden doors to the Hospital Wing were pushed open again.
This time, a young girl with dirty blonde hair skipped in. Upon seeing Lyla, a faint, dreamy smile appeared on her face.
"Lyla," she said softly. She walked over and gently rubbed Lyla's bewildered, magically-disguised hair tips.
"Lovegood... Miss Lovegood?" Lyla stammered and took a few nervous steps back.
'Hadn't I disguised myself? How could Luna actually recognize me?'
"Of course I recognize you," Luna said with a warm smile. "We're friends, aren't we?"
"..."
Lyla pursed her lips resignedly, then nodded gently.
"You seem a little unhappy?" Luna observed. She took Lyla's hand and led her to the far side of the Hospital Wing, where the curtains were open, and warm sunlight streamed through the glass.
"Mm..." Lyla nodded, her throat feeling a little choked up.
Seeing her one true friend while she was feeling so emotional made it hard to control herself. She hadn't had a proper rest since arriving at Hogwarts, and she hadn't communicated with Luna in person once.
"I know you seem to be in trouble," Luna shrugged and said. "Do you remember what I told you before?"
"If you have any difficulties, you can come to me."
"Miss Lovegood..." Lyla sniffled. She pursed her lips tightly and forcefully kept herself from crying.
'Crying in front of an eleven-year-old girl who is fifty years younger than me... I absolutely cannot do that!'
"I... I'm just a little lost." After thinking for a moment, Lyla asked softly, "You've attended my class, right?"
"How do you... feel about it?"
"Mm..." Luna tilted her head, thought for a moment, and said, "Very interesting."
'Ah... that certainly isn't a good review... it must have been very strange...'
With a heavy sigh, Lyla slowly recounted what Professor McGonagall had just told her about the memories.
"So... you don't want everyone to see those Dark Arts, right?" Luna thought for a moment. "Those evil, not-so-pleasant things that easily attract harassment, right?"
"Mm..." Lyla nodded gently. "But at Durmstrang... that's exactly how I learned."
Her answer made Luna smile.
"This is Hogwarts, isn't it?" she whispered. "Professor McGonagall's words actually make a lot of sense."
"You just need to tilt your head to understand."
"Tilt my head... to understand?" Lyla looked at the young Ravenclaw, thoroughly confused.
"For example..." Luna extended a finger and twirled a strand of Lyla's disguised hair. "I heard that Headmaster Dumbledore once served as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts."
"He must be one of the most outstanding in Hogwarts' history, right?"
Her casual words made Lyla's blue eyes widen in sudden realization.
"You mean..."
"You do need to consider the choice of memories," Luna hummed cheerfully. "Only, not your memories."
"But other people's memories... for example... Headmaster Dumbledore's."
Lyla pursed her lips and stared at Luna in absolute awe. "Miss Lovegood, you truly are a genius."
"I'm not a genius," Luna shook her head gently, looking at Lyla's transfigured brown hair with dreamy interest. "I can't even turn my hair red."