The dark night enveloped the tranquil fjord, where a dark, imposing castle stood, emanating faint yellow lights.
This was Durmstrang Institute, a magic academy located in Northern Europe, and one of the very few academies that actively taught the Dark Arts.
This was true even though they had already produced Gellert Grindelwald, who was currently stirring up violent trouble across the entire European continent.
For the Greater Good. These mottled words were carved deeply into the stone wall outside the library. Students passing by would, more or less, glance at them with reverence. But when they saw the girl sitting on the cold steps beneath the wall, holding a heavy book, they all showed expressions of pure disgust.
Lyla Hamilton. A half-blood born of a wizard and a magical creature. A timid freak who dared not even speak aloud.
But at this moment, she seemed to be entirely concentrating on the book in front of her.
This was a highly advanced book on Magic Array Studies. Ever since she came to Durmstrang, the young girl felt as if she had entered a vast, comforting ocean of knowledge.
'This is truly a good place...' Lyla thought. 'Provided I don't think about the awful things I encounter every single day...'
"Thwack."
"Ah..."
The girl's head flared with sudden pain. She clutched her head and looked towards the source. It was a small, sharp stone, which had flown from who knew where.
"Hehehe."
Cruel giggles echoed from the courtyard. Were they the instigators?
'It doesn't matter...' Lyla reasoned with herself, shrinking back. 'The knowledge of Magic Array Studies is far more important than arguing with them...' Moreover, the severely socially anxious girl was simply terrified of arguments. But sometimes, arguments and conflicts never go your way; they always show up when you least want them to.
"Hey! Pointy-ears!" A slightly playful, arrogant voice called out, followed by a flurry of heavy footsteps.
"Ah..." The young girl raised her head and pursed her lips. She clutched her book tightly to her chest and slowly stood up, pulling her hood tighter with her other hand to hide her silver hair.
She seemed to recognize the newcomers, so she instinctively wanted to flee.
But unfortunately, two young men in thick, blood-red Durmstrang robes blocked her path. These young men had malicious smiles on their faces, their wands pointed directly at the young girl.
"I heard Veela ears can be used as rare potion ingredients, but I don't know if it's true or false." It was a young man with curly black hair.
He walked right in front of the young girl, his head held high, surrounded by his sycophantic companions.
"Why don't you just give me your ears?" He shrugged and said with a dark chuckle, "You don't want them anyway, do you?"
"No... not..." The young girl softly retorted, trembling. "This is my... mother's..."
"Ah, we certainly know your mother is a filthy magical creature." The man shrugged and yawned exaggeratedly. "And we also know how she, as a Veela, seduced your pure-blood wizard father into bed."
"You..." The young girl stammered, desperately wanting to explain. But as soon as she opened her mouth, her quiet words were completely drowned out by their raucous laughter.
"Oh, I also heard that Lord Grindelwald is coming here soon." The young man raised an eyebrow and continued his torment. "Do you know what he's coming for?"
The young girl bit her lip and remained silent. She curled into herself, wanting nothing more than to leave, but all she saw were tall figures in thick robes blocking her escape.
"He's coming to kill you." The young man curled his lips into a sneer. "To kill dirty half-breeds like you, who are a defilement of wizard blood from birth..."
"Enough!" Another sharp voice rang out, making the young man frown and the young girl jump in surprise.
"I said, enough, Karkaroff!"
The owner of the voice slowly emerged from the gathered crowd. He first glared fiercely at the black-haired young man and then continued, "Do you always enjoy these pathetic games of bullying the weak?"
"Or are you just such a talentless person, so completely pathetic that you need to belittle others to feel satisfied?"
"This is none of your business, Muller," Karkaroff spat, glaring back.
"Of course, it concerns me." The young man named Muller walked smoothly between the terrified girl and the bullies. "I cannot tolerate a talentless good-for-nothing like you bullying others."
His words were incredibly insulting, making Karkaroff frown deeply and raise his wand. But the people beside him quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him back.
"That's Muller... Don't fight him." The person next to Karkaroff whispered in fear. "It's said he once used the Cruciatus Curse on a classmate."
Hearing of the Unforgivable Curse, Karkaroff's face turned stark pale. He gritted his teeth, hastily retreated a few steps, and then said, "Just you wait... pointy-eared freak... and you, Muller."
"You'd better not walk alone."
"I am always alone," Muller said slowly, not at all intimidated by the empty threat. "As for you, Karkaroff... you can't always have a crowd around you."
Watching Karkaroff and the surrounding crowd hastily leave, Muller turned to look at the timid girl. She was violently trembling and huddled into the stone corner, clutching the heavy book in her hands like a shield.
"Miss Lyla Hamilton, I hope you can learn to protect yourself better." He said softly, shaking his head, before turning to leave.
And the young girl only dared to slightly raise her head and glance at his retreating back.
...
"Hoo..."
Late at night, Lyla took a sharp, deep breath and woke up from the nightmare. Her face was pale, and she gasped for cold air in the dark pub room.
She had dreamed of her awful days at Durmstrang... a difficult, suffocating time. She had also dreamed of the person who might have been called a friend...
'The reason for 'might'...' Lyla shook her head, violently stopping her catastrophic overthinking and no longer dwelling on what happened after that memory.
'What time is it now?'
She gently picked up her elegant ebony wand from under her pillow and gave it a precise flick.
Tiny specks of magical light emerged from the wand tip, allowing her to see the small clock in the room.
Two in the morning... She seemed to have woken up a bit early. Lyla glanced at the half-finished leather wristband sitting on the table.
Many days had passed since the first production, and the communication array's creation was nearing its end. Tomorrow should be the final finishing touches.
She wondered what time Miss Lovegood would arrive. It seemed a bit early to prepare now; should she rest a bit more?
As she was thinking this, she suddenly noticed that Tom Riddle's grubby diary on the table had opened itself at some point.
'Was it the wind?'
Lyla instinctively got up and walked to the table. Her slender fingers rested on the diary, ready to snap it closed, when a faint line of elegant text suddenly bled onto the page.
Good evening, Miss Hamilton. It was Riddle. He was initiating communication with her.
"Good evening... Mr. Riddle." Lyla thought for a moment, picked up a quill, and wrote back. "Aren't you sleeping?"
I am dead; I do not need to sleep.
'Sorry...' Lyla felt she was saying something incredibly foolish again. Perhaps it was because she had just woken up and was still a bit disoriented.
I have something urgent to tell you, Riddle continued, the ink appearing faster now. It concerns a friend of yours.
'Friend?' Lyla was startled. She only had two friends in the entire world: Mr. Lupin and Miss Lovegood.
'Could it be Miss Lovegood? After all, she did say she wanted to throw away the diary earlier.'
"Is it Miss Lovegood? She's a good person, just a bit whimsical in her thoughts..." Lyla hadn't even finished writing her defense when she saw Riddle's reply interrupt her.
I didn't say Miss Lovegood. It's Lupin... His words paused ominously. Remus Lupin.
"Mr. Lupin?" Lyla was startled, watching Riddle's handwriting slowly and deliberately appear.
Listen carefully.
'What?'
Seeing Riddle's cryptic words, Lyla was startled and instinctively pressed her pointed ear flat against the cold wall shared with Lupin's room.
"Bang!"
The sharp sound of shattering glass came from next door, making Lyla shiver violently. It was immediately followed by a heavy rush of hurried, scrambling footsteps.
'Mr. Lupin is really in trouble!'
Lyla quickly wrapped herself in her thick robe, not even bothering to put on her boots, and rushed out into the hallway to Lupin's door.
It was late at night, and the pub corridor was dead quiet. The soundproofing of the rooms seemed very good; no one else had heard the violent sound except Lyla.
"Mr. Lupin?" Lyla knocked timidly on the heavy wooden door.
The room was completely silent; there was no answer.
'Was my voice too soft?'
Lyla pursed her lips and forcefully increased her volume slightly: "Mr. Lupin!"
Still no answer... Lyla took a deep, shaking breath and raised her wand.
'I'm sorry, Mr. Lupin, if you're really fine and just dropped a glass, please just scold me...'
"Alohomora."
Lyla whispered the Unlocking Charm, flawlessly flicking her wand simultaneously.
"Click."
The room door slowly creaked open, and Lyla nervously peeked her head in.
Mr. Lupin was not in the room!
The room was an absolute, terrifying mess. Scattered books were thrown everywhere, and there were violently disheveled scraps of torn fabric littering the floor.
Meanwhile, the jagged, broken glass of the shattered window perfectly reflected the bright, full moon shining outside.