Early in the morning, even though the sun had only just risen, Diagon Alley was already bustling with activity. A constant stream of witches and wizards hurried along the narrow, cobblestone street, browsing the colorful window displays for their desired goods.
Among them, of course, was Lyla... or rather, she should have been among them.
Instead, she was practically glued to Remus Lupin's back. Wrapped tightly in a dark hood and refusing to lift her head, she followed him blindly. It was only by desperately clutching the hem of Mr. Lupin's robes that she wasn't swept away by the chaotic crowd, but even that required her full concentration.
Walking ahead of her, Mr. Lupin felt entirely out of his depth. He wasn't a Hogwarts professor, yet here he was, tasked with escorting Miss Hamilton to buy school supplies.
He didn't particularly like crowded places either; the loud, lively environment always made his senses ache and left him feeling fundamentally uncomfortable. But compared to Lyla's paralyzing anxiety, he was practically the life of the party.
As the crowd swelled, Lyla's only response to Mr. Lupin's gentle questions was to tug sharply at the hem of his robe.
Why do I feel like a father wrangling a lost child? Mr. Lupin suddenly thought. In the next second, he mentally slapped himself.
He shouldn't be so impolite! Strictly speaking, Miss Hamilton was actually a bit older than him.
Dumbledore had briefed him on Lyla's situation, and Lupin had to admit... Miss Hamilton's fate was tragically unfortunate.
To lose fifty years of one's life in the blink of an eye... who knew how many of her friends and family had passed away during her endless slumber?
Thinking this, Mr. Lupin looked over his shoulder at Lyla, a profound pity softening his gaze.
If Lyla had known Mr. Lupin's thoughts, she might have felt a bit awkward. She hadn't actually had many friends to begin with—at least, she didn't think so. As for family... her family had died long before she ever set foot in Durmstrang.
Of course, Lyla was still incredibly sad about losing fifty years! After all, she had failed to complete Lord Grindelwald's final task!
"We're here," Mr. Lupin whispered, stopping to look at Lyla.
Lyla peeked out from her hood and subconsciously scanned the shop's sign: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
"I think you might want to purchase some new clothes first," Mr. Lupin suggested gently. "After all, the outfit you're wearing has technically been on you for fifty years..."
That's true... Lyla looked down at her dark robes. This outfit wasn't even fashionable in 1945, and by modern standards, it looked like something a beggar had dragged out of the mud.
Do I smell bad? she wondered in a panic.
Although she had taken a shower at the Leaky Cauldron, she hadn't changed clothes. Subconsciously, Lyla blushed furiously and buried her head even lower.
Mr. Lupin, oblivious to her spiral, merely scratched his head, a bit confused by her reaction.
"Please, come in!"
As the two entered the shop, a warm, bustling voice immediately greeted them.
"Ah... a young witch!" Madam Malkin, the cheerful shop owner, looked at Lyla with interest. "Coming to buy clothes this early... could it be that you've outgrown your..."
Madam Malkin paused, her smile faltering slightly. "Oh, wait. You don't seem to be wearing Hogwarts robes."
"Madam Malkin, she is not a Hogwarts student," Mr. Lupin interjected smoothly, saving Lyla from having to speak. "In fact, she is the new Hogwarts professor."
"A Hogwarts professor?!" Madam Malkin gasped, stepping back. She leaned in, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper. "Could it be for the... Defense Against the Dark Arts post?"
"Hmm," Mr. Lupin nodded slightly, glancing at Lyla. He wasn't sure if she had been told about the strange rumor surrounding the position.
Lyla immediately noticed their odd behavior. She subtly raised her head, peeking at Mr. Lupin from under her hood. What was wrong with being the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?
Could it be discrimination against the Dark Arts? she wondered. Although Lyla had never attended any school besides Durmstrang, she knew that schools directly teaching the Dark Arts were a minority.
I hope she won't be prejudiced against me because of the Dark Arts... Lyla subconsciously shrank back into Lupin's shadow.
"I see..." Madam Malkin murmured, her expression turning sympathetic. She forced a soft smile. "Well! This is certainly the first time I've seen such a remarkably young professor."
"Miss Hamilton simply has a youthful disposition," Mr. Lupin said, offering a polite smile. He chose not to disclose Lyla's magical coma to the gossiping seamstress.
"In that case... how about trying a more modern style?" Madam Malkin tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Miss Hamilton is far more petite than the usual professors we fit. Naturally, she doesn't need to dress in those stuffy, old-fashioned cuts."
"Perhaps she could opt for something closer to the student styles?"
"No... no need!" Lyla quickly shook her head, her pointed ears twitching in alarm. "Just a regular robe... that's fine..."
"A black robe," she mumbled.
She didn't want to dress conspicuously! She needed to blend in to avoid unnecessary trouble—not just for her own sanity, but to ensure the success of Lord Grindelwald's mission!
That's right! It's for Lord Grindelwald's mission!
"Is that so?" Madam Malkin sighed, sounding a little disappointed. "What a shame. Miss Hamilton is a natural clothes horse."
With a flick of her wand, a rack of clothes zoomed forward.
"I have plenty of traditional black robes... but none tailored this small," she muttered, pointing to the few options hovering in front of her. "Which cut do you prefer, Miss Hamilton?"
"This... this one..." Lyla pointed randomly, desperate to end the interaction.
"This one?" Madam Malkin raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "No problem. I'll have two tailored and ready by this afternoon."
With another flick of her wand, a pair of sharp scissors and a long tape measure flew directly at Lyla.
"Eek!" Startled by the flying blades, Lyla instinctively stumbled backward.
"Don't worry, they're just charmed to measure your size," Mr. Lupin soothed in a low voice.
"I... I know..." Lyla flushed. She knew what they were doing the second she dodged; she was just incredibly jumpy!
"Two tailored robes will be about fifteen Galleons," Madam Malkin announced casually.
Mr. Lupin nodded. He reached into his coat, retrieved a small pouch of heavy gold Galleons, and handed them to Madam Malkin.
"Thank you very much, Madam," Mr. Lupin said, bowing slightly on behalf of the once-again silent Lyla.
As they stepped back out onto the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, Lyla finally found her voice. "Mr. Lu... Mr. Lupin..."
"What is it?" Mr. Lupin paused, turning to look at her.
"Those Galleons... I... I'll pay you back..." Lyla pursed her lips, whispering softly.
"Ah... no need," Mr. Lupin shrugged easily. "These were given to me by Headmaster Dumbledore."
Dumbledore is truly a good person... Lyla subconsciously felt a swell of gratitude.
Wait! Is he trying to bribe me with money?! I'm a loyal soldier of Lord Grindelwald! I'll never be bought off by such a measly sum!
Having an immediate change of heart, Lyla pursed her lips defensively. "Then I'll pay Headmaster Dumbledore back..."
"That's not necessary either," Mr. Lupin chuckled, scratching his cheek. "Headmaster Dumbledore said these Galleons are an advance on your salary."
"..."
I really thought you were being too kind, Dumbledore.
"So, shall we go get you a new wand next?" Mr. Lupin asked slowly, noticing Lyla's prolonged silence. "After all, carrying a broken wand always makes a witch feel uneasy."
"Hmm... that... that's right."
Lyla nodded emphatically. She would definitely feel much safer with a functioning wand. At the very least, she wouldn't be clutching a useless twig if she ran into trouble!
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