In the early morning, sunlight streamed onto the sprawling green lawns of Hogwarts. The glistening dew drops marked the arrival of a peaceful new day.
It was the summer holiday. Without the bustling students, the castle seemed exceptionally serene.
Except, of course, for the Headmaster's office.
"Albus..." Professor McGonagall coughed lightly. She looked at Dumbledore, who was calmly sitting behind his desk, sucking on a Fizzing Whizzbee.
"This Miss Hamilton... I have never heard of her before," she said, shaking her head helplessly. She held a newly drafted employment contract in her hand.
"And two professors jointly responsible for a single course? This is an entirely unprecedented arrangement."
"We cannot always live in the past, can we?" Dumbledore replied, looking up slightly over his half-moon spectacles. He casually popped another Fizzing Whizzbee into his mouth.
"You know that is not the point, Albus," McGonagall said, her expression severe. "Last year, Quirrell caused us enough trouble as it is."
"We cannot hire someone who has just graduated to be a professor." McGonagall looked down at the age column on the contract. "She is only eighteen years old!"
Seeing the surname, McGonagall seemed to realize something. She lowered her voice cautiously. "This matter isn't related to the Hamilton family incident, is it?"
"On this point, I must clarify," Dumbledore said slowly. "This matter has absolutely nothing to do with the Hamilton family."
"Furthermore, strictly speaking... Miss Lyla Hamilton is not merely eighteen."
"What do you mean?" McGonagall asked, momentarily stunned.
Dumbledore sighed and slowly recounted exactly what had happened to Lyla. As the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, such delicate matters naturally could not be kept from Minerva.
"Fifty years... truly?" McGonagall looked at him in sheer disbelief.
Her initial expression of deep sympathy quickly morphed into a look of sudden realization.
"Is she that Miss Lyla Hamilton?" she gasped. "The prodigy who mastered non-verbal magic and graduated early from the Durmstrang Institute?"
"Exactly," Dumbledore nodded gently. "Fifty years ago, we even discussed her together."
"That was to recruit her to fight against—" McGonagall abruptly stopped. Knowing Dumbledore's painful history with Grindelwald, she tactfully changed the subject. "Well... if it is that Miss Hamilton..."
"She certainly has the magical qualifications to become a professor at Hogwarts."
Lyla Hamilton had been a rising star who shone brilliantly across the European wizarding world fifty years ago. She had won the Durmstrang Inter-School Dueling Championship twice in a row during her studies.
Graduating at just fifteen, she was the youngest graduate in Durmstrang's history. She was also the only witch of her generation to have completely mastered non-verbal spells.
The Wordless Witch.
McGonagall clearly remembered The Daily Prophet's glowing headlines from that era.
"But..." Thinking of the girl's subsequent scandals, McGonagall frowned slightly. "Miss Hamilton was imprisoned in a wizarding prison at the age of seventeen for illegal Dark Arts research."
"To hire a witch who has been to prison as a professor is perhaps a bit... inappropriate?"
"Minerva... I can also clarify this point on her behalf." Dumbledore seemed to have anticipated the objection. He coughed lightly.
"Miss Hamilton was not arrested for engaging in Dark Arts research. The real reason..." Dumbledore trailed off, pausing for a few seconds before shaking his head.
Seeing his reluctance to speak on the matter, McGonagall sighed helplessly. "Albus, I trust you unconditionally. But the Board of Governors and the students' parents will not be so forgiving."
Dumbledore smiled gently; he had already prepared for this. "Therefore, Miss Hamilton is currently engaged in an endeavor that draws a clear, respectable line separating her from her past."
As he spoke, he retrieved an official report from his desk and handed it to McGonagall.
"The Ministry of Magic?" McGonagall looked at the seal on the parchment, stunned. She examined it carefully.
"They are hiring Miss Lyla Hamilton as a special consultant for the Dark Artifact Investigation Team?"
"Exactly," Dumbledore nodded. "I used a slight variation of her name to bypass the bureaucracy. After all, if the Ministry knew her true historical identity, they likely would not agree."
"If she is officially sanctioned to investigate Dark artifacts for the Ministry... it will naturally placate the Board of Governors and the parents," McGonagall murmured.
"You had this all planned out?" McGonagall asked, genuinely surprised.
She looked at Dumbledore's perfectly relaxed demeanor. "But Albus... why go to such incredible lengths for her?"
"It is quite simple." The leisurely expression on Dumbledore's face slowly faded, replaced by a heavy sense of guilt.
"To ensure everyone involved in that terrible conflict receives due compensation," he said, enunciating each word. "I wish to make up for the fifty years Miss Hamilton lost because of our war."
"Albus..." McGonagall sighed softly, wanting to comfort her old friend.
But Dumbledore quickly curved his lips into a slight, knowing smile. "And Minerva... thanks to Quirrell, we have learned troubling news regarding Lord Voldemort."
"He will eventually return to us one day," Dumbledore said softly. He slowly rose from his chair and walked to the window of the office.
Looking out at the green lawns bathed in sunlight, he smiled. "We are well aware of exactly what Miss Hamilton is capable of, are we not?"
"Harry..." McGonagall whispered, her thoughts immediately going to the young Gryffindor boy. She nodded in quiet agreement.
It was true. To fight against Lord Voldemort, they would desperately need Miss Lyla Hamilton's formidable abilities, just as they had fifty years ago. Only now, their enemy was even more terrifying and cruel.
However, Lyla—who was currently hiding out in a private parlor at the Leaky Cauldron—had absolutely no idea she held such an important position in Albus Dumbledore's grand chess match.
At this exact moment, her only opponent was the tiny owl perched on the nearby table.
"No... Nova, c-c-come... here..." Lyla mumbled softly, staring nervously at the owl.
"Miss Hamilton... you need to speak up," Lupin said from the corner of the room, shaking his head gently. "Even an owl's excellent hearing cannot pick up such a soft whisper."
"I... I know..." Lyla took a deep breath.
Her blue eyes fixed on the owl, and the pointed ears hidden beneath her hood perked up slightly in concentration.
"No... Nova!" Her voice was a little louder than before, finally reaching the normal volume of an everyday conversation.
Nova finally heard her. The small owl instinctively swiveled its head entirely backward to look directly at Lyla.
"Eek!"
Startled by the owl's abrupt, unnatural head movement, Lyla shrieked and scrambled backward against the wall.
"Miss Hamilton..." Seeing her terrified reaction, Lupin pressed a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing out loud. "I really do not think little Nova is going to eat you."
"S-sorry..." Lyla pursed her lips, poking her index fingers together nervously. "I... I'm just a little scared..."
'Does no one else find it absolutely terrifying when an owl spins its head all the way around like that?!' she thought indignantly. 'It didn't even move its body!'
"Alright, let's try calling her again, Miss Hamilton," Lupin urged gently.
"Y-yes... right away!"