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During a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the professor couldn't help but marvel at Lys's magical power.
It was common knowledge that the same spell could produce vastly different outcomes depending on the caster. For some, it might result in nothing more than a harmless flash of light, perhaps causing a nosebleed at most. For others, it could sever a limb—or even take a life.
And this Stalys Black, her magical reserves were already far greater than those of her peers. The strength of her spells should have been far beyond the norm.
Yet it seemed as though she was either unable or unwilling to unleash her full potential. Her magic was always controlled, restrained to a standard level.
The professor suspected she was deliberately holding back.
A third-year student, gloomy and reserved, and already adept at concealing her abilities—this was no small matter.
The current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had been removed from the Auror ranks due to his insatiable curiosity, found himself increasingly intrigued by Lys.
After every class, he would ask her to stay behind for a chat. However, it was clear that Lys, even as a third-year, still struggled to understand the nuances of casual conversation or humor.
The first time he asked her to stay, he had said, "I noticed you don't take notes in class. Does that mean you've mastered everything? If not, I might have to deduct points from your assignments~."
His tone was more teasing than serious, but Lys didn't pick up on it. From that day on, Defense Against the Dark Arts became the only class where Stalys Black diligently took notes.
Even though her handwriting was as chaotic as that of a toddler.
During their conversations, the professor would subtly probe into her background. Lys was extremely tight-lipped about anything related to her family. If a topic even remotely touched on her personal life, she would immediately clam up.
However, she displayed no such caution when discussing the current controversies surrounding white and dark magic.
When he told her she could come to him with any questions, she actually brought a book to him, earnestly asking about the effects of dark magic on the soul.
What was even more alarming was that, during one of his casual probes, he discovered that this child had an astonishing amount of knowledge about magical experiments so extreme that only the most deranged individuals would be familiar with them.
Ignoring Lys's pale complexion, which mirrored his own, the professor found an excuse to discourage her from coming to him with further questions.
What on earth? This kid is only 13! What kind of lunatic would teach a child these things?
As a professor, he deliberated for a while before deciding to report the matter to the headmaster.
"That's the situation, Headmaster. This child possesses magical reserves far greater than her peers, along with a disturbingly twisted educational background. While I haven't seen any clear signs of alignment, you know... with that individual recruiting followers so aggressively, it's hard to say..." The professor didn't finish his sentence, but the implication was clear. This child might end up on the same side as the Dark Lord.
Dumbledore stroked his long beard, the small bells tied to it jingling softly with the motion. He said nothing, his eyes peering over his glasses, seemingly observing something through the professor, through the walls—or perhaps simply lost in thought.
After a long pause, he suddenly picked up a candy jar and popped a piece into his mouth.
"Oh, forgive an old man for his occasional lapses in attention, won't you? These past few days have been exhausting. Now, if there's nothing else, I believe we can both look forward to a restful night, can't we?"
And just like that, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was ushered out of the headmaster's office.
By the second month of the term, Lys had somewhat recovered from the inexplicable rejection by the professor.
Her spirits were lifted by the imminent blooming of her Singing Lily, which had spent the past six months in bud.
Recently, she often brought books to sit by the plant, letting Gubang bask in the sunlight in the flowerpot.
Her initial curiosity about summoning spells and whether they could summon the lily had faded.
Watching the bulb sprout, its leaves unfurl after watering, and its stem quiver after pest removal brought her a sense of comfort.
The experimental notebook that so easily evoked her fears and sleepless nights seemed to lose its grip when she was with the Singing Lily.
Lys even dozed off for a rare nap on the steps of the flower platform.
She was startled awake by a first-year Gryffindor who had come to the greenhouse for class, and she hurried off to her Transfiguration lesson.
The third-year curriculum was significantly heavier, with three or four lessons per subject each week. Professor McGonagall, a strict teacher with zero tolerance for mischief, was particularly demanding.
However, ever since last year's breakthrough, when she saw the red-haired girl carrying a snake and rushing into class just as the bell rang, Professor McGonagall had softened slightly.
This time, she simply told Lys to find a seat quickly without further comment.
Gubang was getting heavier. Lys shrugged her shoulders to adjust the snake and set it on the desk. When she checked her bag, she realized she had every book except her Transfiguration textbook.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall only lectured for five minutes before instructing the class to continue practicing the Transfiguration spell from the previous lesson.
As a top student in Transfiguration, Lys quickly completed the task.
Having skipped lunch and been rudely awakened from her nap, she felt utterly drained. She decided to rest her head on the desk for a bit, confident that Professor McGonagall wouldn't mind. To make the desk more comfortable, she placed a book on it.
Just as the book touched the edge of the desk, a beam of Transfiguration magic struck it.
Lys's eyes widened behind her thick hair.
She quickly tucked Gubang, who had been shielded by the book, into her robes and turned to see where the spell had come from.
"Oops, my mistake," said Sirius Black, shaking his head with a smirk that screamed, "I did it on purpose."
"Who told you to have a snake that looks just like our practice dummies?"