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Kestrel came hopping over with an air of cheerful familiarity, as if she'd been here a hundred times before. She bounded forward a few more steps, her voice bubbling with excitement, as though she'd just found a long-lost relative.
"I found this place through divination! Pretty cool, right?"
Suddenly, she leaned in, dropping her voice to a dramatic whisper, as if she were about to share a secret that could shake the world.
"But you have to keep it to yourself, okay? I'm only telling you… no one else!"
The old headmaster gave a small nod, his expression kind and indulgent.
"It seems you're quite the talented Seer," he said with a gentle smile, though his tone carried a hint of curiosity as he pressed on, "So then, may I ask what brings you here?"
"I'm here to find a job!" she declared instantly, straightening her back and puffing out her chest. Her voice rang out clear and confident.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Dumbledore replied gently, shaking his head. "The current Divination professor at Hogwarts, Madam Sybill Trelawney, doesn't appear to have any intention of retiring anytime soon."
"Oh, who said I wanted to teach Divination?" she waved her hand dismissively, as if brushing away a bothersome fly. Her manner was bold and carefree, her energy impossible to ignore. "Divination's all about talent and… well… gut feeling. I could never actually teach that!"
Once again, she leaned in far too close, blatantly ignoring the usual sense of personal space. This time, her words came in a near-whisper, just loud enough to reach his ears.
"I heard you're short a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, right? I can help with that! I'm pretty good at defensive magic!"
Dumbledore gazed at her quietly. His eyes, clear and deep, seemed to look straight through the bright and bustling energy she radiated, as if he were gently peeling away the layers to see the truth beneath.
After a pause, he slowly shook his head once more.
"I'm sorry, child. Hogwarts can't hire a witch whose… well… background remains unclear."
"Who said my background's unclear?!"
Kestrel sprang up like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on, instantly on the defensive.
"My grandfather was the former President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Scanode Sandtan! My name is Iresa Lumina! I even know your…"
She cut herself off mid-sentence, as though she'd suddenly realized she'd almost let something slip. Then, just as quickly, she swapped her expression for one of hopeful anticipation and looked straight at the old man.
"You can totally write to verify it! I've got nothing to hide."
As she said this, she extended one hand and began patting her chest repeatedly, swearing up and down, "And you absolutely don't have to worry about my qualifications either! When I graduated from Kordos Dorez, I got a Гром—Grom—in all eleven subjects! That's top-tier, just so you know!"
Silently, she added a little footnote in her mind: Though… I might be a tiny bit timid sometimes… but hey, it's not like I'm going into real battle. I'm just teaching young kids, right?
That part, however, she wisely kept to herself.
The old man looked at the girl in front of him, a small, energetic witch who seemed to burn with the liveliness of a flickering flame. His long silver beard trembled ever so slightly, stirred by his silent contemplation.
At last, a faint smile curled at the corners of his mouth, wry and barely there, with a trace of helpless amusement.
"Well then, Miss Lumina," he said gently, "perhaps you should find somewhere to settle down for the time being. After all, verifying all that information might take a bit of time."
"No problem at all! Time's something I've got plenty of," she said brightly, brushing it off without the slightest hesitation. "You've got loads of empty rooms in the castle, don't you? And even if there aren't, I don't mind sleeping in a tent!"
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The next morning, just as the great hall was starting to hum with the usual bustle of breakfast, Professor Sargeras stepped through the doors, expecting nothing more than a quiet meal.
But what greeted him instead was a sight so wildly unexpected, it stopped him dead in his tracks.
Right there, seated proudly at the high table, was the Kestrel herself… or rather, Iresa Lumina. She sat front and center like she owned the place, surrounded by a mountain of food, knives and forks clinking as she shoveled one bite after another into her puffed-out cheeks, as if her goal was to devour the entire Hogwarts breakfast in a single sitting.
The way she tore into her meal with such open enthusiasm stood in stark contrast to the sleepy, slow-paced nibbling of the students around her. She looked like a firecracker in a room full of yawns, and it didn't take long for every eye in the hall to turn toward her.
Sargeras furrowed his brow and halted mid-step, suddenly unsure whether he was still half-dreaming from too little sleep. Had he finally started hallucinating?
How could she be here?
"Iresa?" he approached a few steps, his voice filled with unmasked confusion. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh—mmph!—gulp—"
Iresa nearly choked on a mouthful of smoked bacon. She grabbed her goblet and took a quick swig of pumpkin juice, coughing a little before finally catching her breath. Then she beamed at him with a grin so wide and dazzling it felt almost too much for this early in the morning, and waved as if they'd just run into each other on a sunny stroll through the courtyard.
"Professor Greengrass! Good morning! What a lovely coincidence, I'm actually here for work."
"Work?" Sargeras repeated slowly, the frown on his face deepening. He found it nearly impossible to reconcile the word with the girl before him… who, at the moment, looked far more like an overeager first-year raiding the breakfast buffet than anything remotely resembling a Hogwarts staff member.
"That's right!"
She set down her knife and fork with a clatter, wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve in a manner that made several nearby students grimace, then straightened her back and tried to strike a more formal pose. But the excitement gleaming in her eyes completely betrayed her attempt at seriousness.
"Headmaster Dumbledore personally wrote to me," she announced with grand importance, "A formal invitation, asking me to come teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts!"
Then she cleared her throat in an exaggeratedly official manner and added, "Well, it's just temporary, of course… just to tide things over for a bit. But after much careful consideration and deep, thoughtful reflection… I grudgingly accepted the offer."
She made sure to emphasize both careful consideration and grudgingly, as if those two phrases added extra weight to her qualifications.
Sargeras said nothing.
He simply regarded her in silence, those deep, unreadable eyes quietly watching her every move.
The way she spoke of having "grudgingly" agreed, combined with the sheer joy radiating from her expression and the mountain of empty plates stacked high in front of her, left little room for genuine conviction.
Even so, in the end, he merely gave a slow nod, though his heart remained heavy with doubt.
He didn't care much about the so-called curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. What truly puzzled him… was Dumbledore.
What exactly was the old headmaster planning? How did he even know the Kestrel? And why would he go out of his way to invite someone like her to Hogwarts, and offer her a teaching post, no less?
A string of unanswered questions surged through his mind.
Sargeras had just opened his mouth to ask for an explanation when he realized… Kestrel was gone.
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As the final days of the Christmas holiday slipped away, the once quiet corridors of the castle slowly filled again with the return of students, their voices rising in cheerful, chaotic waves that brought Hogwarts back to life.
Sargeras, too, had put aside the work piling up on his desk, preparing instead to leave for Malfoy Manor.
He needed to know what Lucius Malfoy was after.
Out of respect for the old headmaster, he refrained from Apparating within the castle grounds this time. Instead, he made his way on foot, following the winding path that led toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
However, as soon as he stepped into the dusky borderland between light and shadow, something caught his eye. A small cluster of familiar figures stood huddled together at the edge of the trees.
It was Harry, Ron, and Hermione, gathered beside a group of first-years: Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and his own cousin, Astoria Greengrass.
They were all crowded in close, clearly feeding the Thestrals — those eerie, skeletal creatures that only those who had witnessed death could truly perceive.
"I believe," Sargeras' calm voice broke the silence at the forest's edge, carrying a hint of quiet resignation, "that I've already warned you all about this."
The children jumped, startled, spinning around to face him with wide eyes.
Hermione spoke up quickly, trying to explain. "Professor Greengrass! We were on our way to find Hagrid, honestly. We just ran into Ginny and the others along the way and…"
Sargeras' gaze moved past the trio, settling on the three younger girls, and then finally resting on Luna.
"Perhaps I wasn't clear enough?" His voice was steady, but firm, every word carrying quiet weight"If I remember correctly, this isn't the first time I've reminded you to stay away from the Forbidden Forest, is it?"
Luna lifted her pale, dreamy eyes to meet his. Her voice floated like a drifting breeze, light and gentle, yet filled with sincerity.
"I'm sorry, Professor. It was my idea… I brought them."
She glanced sideways at Astoria.
"She hasn't been feeling well since she came back from home, so I thought… maybe getting some fresh air, seeing the thestrals… it might help her feel a little better."
Sargeras' gaze shifted quietly toward Astoria.
The young girl stood with her head bowed, her slender shoulders slightly hunched. Her long hair fell down in soft waves, veiling part of her pale face like a curtain of shadow.
It wasn't hard for him to imagine what she had endured at the Greengrass estate. The arguments over which house she should be sorted into, the suffocating pressure of those deep-rooted and unyielding pure-blood ideals handed down by generations long past.
His once stern tone softened instinctively.
Stepping closer, Sargeras reached out and gently rested a warm hand on her head, offering a few light, reassuring pats.
"Astoria," he said, his voice low and comforting, "if you're ever in trouble, if you need help… you can come to me. Anytime."
He looked down at her delicate frame, and a heavy, all-too-familiar feeling began to settle over his chest.
The Greengrass family… so proud of their ancient lineage, so blind to the harm it had wrought. Their so-called legacy had become little more than shackles, binding their children to the past.
And Astoria… she was bearing the weight of that bloodline's curse.
The curse that had been passed down through the veins of House Greengrass, ever since the days of their notorious ancestor, the "Dark Healer" Hippolyta.
In his hunger for power, that man had stolen the blood of unicorns through dark and forbidden magic. And in return, the wrath of natural magic had marked his descendants with a terrible price.
The irony was cruel. Generations of rigid pure-blood intermarriage hadn't diluted the curse. They had only tightened its grip. Like a slowly closing noose, it had grown stronger, more pronounced… and now, it was quietly stealing away the futures of innocent children like Astoria.
How many years did she have left?
Five years? Ten years?
Sargeras exhaled in silence. Then, without a word, he drew his wand. Moving with great care, he touched the tip of it to Astoria's forehead.
A soft, silvery glow flickered briefly, so faint it was almost invisible to the eye.
And at once, Astoria felt something inside her ease.
The heaviness that had been pressing against her chest, choking her thoughts, slowly lifted… as though a warm hand had brushed it away, clearing the air in her lungs. She could finally breathe again.
"I'll find a way to lift the Greengrass family's curse," Sargeras said softly. "But until then… try to be happy. Don't let this be a life where nothing worth remembering ever happens."
At those words, the little witch finally raised her head.
And on her pale face bloomed a smile. It was simple, quiet, and filled with gratitude.
Like the first soft beam of sunlight after a snowfall… gentle, but full of hope.
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[Chapter End's]
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