Setting aside the little one's disappointment, Lys was currently in her office, gazing down at the bald heads of the students before her, unconsciously pulling her clothes tighter around herself.
"Starting fights during class? The old History of Magic professor nearly had a stroke. Let's hear your reasons." Lys picked up the steaming mug before her and took a sip.
She didn't usually drink hot water, but bloody hell—wherever Durmstrang was built, it was freezing.
"He's just some Muggle miner's brat! So what if we roughed him up?!" The ringleader, a young pureblood, remained defiant. Some newly appointed teacher speaking so sternly—as if she could actually do anything about it!
Lys took another deliberate sip. "Mm, quite right—you can't do much. If you'd fought him one-on-one, I wouldn't give a damn. But five against one, and you're proud of that? Right now you look like a complete tosser."
Lys's German came out slow and measured, carrying a distinctly sardonic edge, though she was actually showing remarkable restraint. These past years abroad had taught her more than just academic subjects—she'd heard plenty of colorful language from old rogues too.
Besides, German wasn't Lys's mother tongue, so the deliberate pace was understandable.
The young master's expression remained equally mutinous, even muttering something vulgar under his breath.
Lys set down her mug. "I'm beginning to suspect your father misplaced his actual child and just grabbed some garden gnome to raise instead."
"Don't say I didn't offer you a chance. You"—Lys pointed at the young master—"and you"—her finger shifted to the miner's son—"dueling arena. One-on-one. Loser apologizes."
Durmstrang worshipped strength above all else, yet the rigid class divisions between nobility and commoners ran bone-deep. This created an environment where spoiled young masters constantly formed gangs.
Apart from a few genuinely powerful students, the rest strutted about like lords, commanding their lackeys to do their fighting—as if their own weakness would cease to exist so long as it remained unacknowledged.
Upon hearing this resolution, the Muggle-born child's head snapped up toward Lys. The young master also stared at her, his voice rising threateningly: "Do you have any idea who my father is?!"
"I do. Feel free to send him my way." Lys responded with complete indifference, then urged everyone toward the dueling arena.
The young master's desperate resistance proved utterly pathetic. Lys used Mobiliarbus to float him overhead as she herded the group along.
Lys encircled the two combatants with a ring of flames. "Begin."
While the pair dueled within, Lys struck up a conversation with a nearby instructor. "That boy"—she gestured vaguely at the young master—"reminds me terribly of some git I despised during my school days." She paused to deflect a potentially maiming curse. "Absolutely identical."
Lys felt a wave of nostalgia. She remembered declaring in third year that she'd make those four reckless fools taste the loss of their most precious possessions... And now? Two were dead, one rotted in Azkaban, and the last was a werewolf, vanished without trace.
After the young master offered his apology through gritted teeth, face pale as parchment, Lys patted his shoulder. "Listen here, little gnome—cause less trouble for daddy, won't you? He still needs to earn his keep through my business ventures."
Over recent years, Lys had acquired genuinely coveted merchandise. With Malfoy's backing and Karkaroff's tacit approval, her enterprises had soared to new heights. She possessed ample leverage to discipline these pampered brats.
She then turned her attention to the Muggle-born student: "Learn some restraint. If you'd actually crippled or killed him, what would become of your family?"
Minor scuffles typically escaped their families' notice, but serious incidents would bring the full weight of noble vindictiveness crashing down—ruthless and unreasonable.
Speaking of which, Lys paused, recalling how she'd hurled Potter from the Quidditch stands in third year—dozens of feet high, nearly killing the boy—yet his family never sought retribution.
Truly... rather sporting of them...
After resolving these petty matters, she escorted the student group to apologize to the elderly professor threatening resignation.
From that point forward, students under Lys's jurisdiction behaved considerably better, though provocative incidents continued surfacing before her.
On one occasion, a first-year girl actually knocked to ask: "Professor, my brother's terrified of you—he's even skipping classes. He claims you're a werewolf's daughter. His mate even told me you eat raw meat. Is that true?"
Lys studied the composed, fearless child, then narrowed her eyes slightly: "Raw meat? Hardly. When circumstances permit, I prefer sweets—or perhaps ginger-braised chicken. Though your brother wasn't lying—my father is indeed a werewolf."
Fishing through her pocket, Lys produced a Super Blow Bubble Gum and offered it to the girl: "Doesn't it frighten you, knowing I'm a werewolf's daughter?"
The child continued examining the bubble gum with fascination, apparently searching for traces of blood or raw flesh, though the candy's sweet-tart aroma revealed nothing sinister.
"Not particularly. You're a school professor, which makes you safe. My brother forbids me speaking with you—told me to keep my distance—but I was simply too curious. Eating raw meat sounds absolutely revolting, not something someone as lovely as you would do." The little girl cheerfully betrayed her brother and his friend without hesitation.
She also retrieved some toffees from her pocket, offering them to Lys in exchange.
Just as both girls examined their confections, a boy burst through the door, gasping heavily. Lys glanced up with irritation.
The girl studying her Chocolate Frog turned to discover her own brother.
She held up the Chocolate Frog and its card excitedly: "Brother, look! This is Britain's bestselling sweet from the magazines! Though I can't recall who this person is—he seems familiar..."
The girl displaying her treats was suddenly yanked to her brother's side. The Chocolate Frog seized its chance to leap onto Kreacher's head while the card fluttered away—Dumbledore winked his twinkling blue eyes mischievously from behind his spectacles before vanishing into the portrait.
"Nini, get away from her! I've told you—werewolves are the most dangerous creatures alive!"
He attempted raising his wand, but Lys smoothly disarmed him. When she moved to return it, he cried out: "Don't come any closer! I've written the headmaster! God knows what lies you spun to secure a teaching position!"
The boy appeared genuinely terrified yet still dragged his sister away, abandoning his wand entirely.
Lys understood that German werewolf reputations weren't stellar, but this level of panic... leaving behind his wand seemed rather extreme...
The following day brought clarity. The little girl returned for her brother's wand, casually sucking a lollipop while squatting outside Lys's office door. Through their conversation, Lys learned that before the girl's earliest memories, their family employed a housekeeper who'd raised her brother, only...
"She was attacked by a werewolf called Fenrir Greyback. Initially she survived, but chose death a year later."
Watching the little girl relay this information without flinching, Lys sighed deeply.
She declined the offered salted fish and chips: "Thank you, but I don't eat fish," then selected a crystal-encrusted lunch box containing Lys's homemade chocolate butter sandwich biscuits.
"Mother explained this to me. I'm only telling you so you'll understand—my brother's usually quite polite. He simply reacts poorly to things that once caused him pain."
The little girl munched chips while chatting: "Father's departing for America soon, following Mr. Karkaroff's business arrangements. My brother and I will accompany him. Apparently there's a magical school there called Ilvermorny... Oh, and our family serves the Karkaroff household too. Mother's letter mentioned you do as well."
The girl's gaze settled on Lys. After posing her intended question and receiving an answer, her brother appeared and swiftly whisked her away.
This left Lys alone with half-eaten fish, scattered biscuit crumbs, and contemplative silence.
"I've never encountered werewolves before, but you're the first werewolf family member I've met. Are werewolves truly dangerous?"
"Why would someone leave when they knew another person depended on them completely?"
...
"Werewolves represent inescapable suffering and curse—both for themselves and those surrounding them."
...
"I might comprehend the reasoning, but I'll never accept such a choice. Selecting death ends their own torment, not mine."
...
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