Chapter 17: The Demonic Light Emerges and the Synchronicity of the Stars and Moon (Part 1)
The morning at Hogwarts was awakened by a unique magic. Sunlight streamed through the towering stained-glass windows of Gryffindor Tower, casting colorful shadows on the floor. The air was filled with a mix of toasted bread, fried bacon, and fresh parchment. Lynn woke up in the boys' dormitory, where the air was a unique blend of wool blankets and youthful sweat, with the star stone resting warmly against his chest.
The Common Room was already bustling. Hermione was sitting early at a table near the fireplace, with 'Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1' spread open before her. She was nibbling on marmalade toast while reading intently, her fluffy curly hair gilded with a faint gold by the morning light. Seeing Lynn come down, she immediately looked up, her eyes bright with an eagerness for new knowledge: "Lynn! Look at the timetable!" She pushed a piece of parchment over.
The parchment clearly listed the first day's classes: Charms Class (Professor Flitwick) and Transfiguration (Professor McGonagall) in the morning, and History of Magic (Professor Binns) in the afternoon.
"Professor Flitwick is the Dean of Ravenclaw, and he's said to be incredibly skilled in Charms!" Hermione's tone was full of reverence.
"Professor McGonagall is even stricter, and Transfiguration is one of the hardest subjects in the O.W.Ls!" Ron chimed in, holding a huge beef pasty, his mouth full and words muffled, a clear look of awe on his face.
Harry, however, looked at History of Magic on the timetable with some concern: "Professor Binns... is a ghost?"
After a hearty breakfast, the first-years followed the timetable's instructions, navigating the still-mischievous stairs (this time, a step suddenly turned into a slippery slope, nearly sending Neville's "Trevor" sliding away), and finally found the Charms Class classroom at the end of a corridor on the fourth floor of the Castle.
The classroom was spacious and bright, with rows of long tables and benches facing the podium. Behind the podium were towering bookshelves packed with thick magical tomes. Professor Filius Flitwick stood on a specially made stack of books, barely able to get his head above the podium. He was short, with white hair and beard, dressed in neat dark blue robes, and wore a pair of small round-rimmed spectacles, behind which his eyes sparkled with wise and gentle light.
"Good morning, first-year fledglings!" Professor Filius Flitwick's voice was high-pitched but clear, with a peculiar rhythm, "Welcome to the wonderful world of Charms! Here, will resonates with magic, and spells will become reality! I am Filius Flitwick, your guide."
His opening remarks were concise and enthusiastic. After a brief self-introduction and emphasis on classroom discipline, he immediately got down to business.
"Today, we will learn one of the most basic, and indeed most important, charms — **'Lumos Levioso'**!" Professor Filius Flitwick drew his slender wand, and with an incredibly elegant, conductor-like flick of his wrist, the tip of his wand precisely pointed at a pure white feather on the podium.
**"Lumos Levioso!"**
A soft, pure milky white glow instantly emanated from the wand tip, not a blinding beam, but a substantial, mist-like aura enveloping the feather. To everyone's astonished gaze, the feather seemed to lose its weight, rising lightly and steadily from the podium, floating about a foot above the desk, slowly rotating, and emitting a soft halo!
"Perfect control! Will must be like a thread, magic like flowing water!" Professor Filius Flitwick looked at his result with satisfaction, then gestured for the students to take out their wands and practice feathers (one each). "Now, it's your turn! Concentrate, feel the flow of magic, and clearly enunciate the spell — **'Lumos Levioso'**! Remember, the wrist movement should be light, as if lifting a cloud!"
Immediately, the classroom filled with a cacophony of chanting and wand-waving, rising and falling unevenly.
"L-L-Lumos Levioso!" Neville's voice trembled with nervousness, his wand flailing, but the feather remained motionless, instead accidentally getting poked onto the floor.
"Lumos Levioso!" Seamus gave a forceful flick of his wand, and a small cluster of sparks shot out from the tip, nearly scorching his feather.
"Lu... Lumos Levioso..." Ron's face turned red with effort, the feather twitched, rose only an inch from the desk, and then "plop" it fell.
Harry's situation was slightly better; his feather wobbled up a short distance, its light weak and flickering, but after a few seconds, it too fell.
Hermione took a deep breath, her small face taut, her eyes incredibly focused. Following the description in the book, she diligently adjusted her breathing, flicked her wrist at what she believed was a perfect angle, and clearly enunciated: "Lumos Levioso!"
A soft milky white halo lit up at the tip of her moonlight grapevine wand, enveloping the feather. The feather trembled, rising extremely slowly, as if burdened, about three inches from the desk! The light, though faint, was relatively stable!
"Very good! Miss Granger!" Professor Filius Flitwick exclaimed in surprise, "To get the feather off the ground on your first try! Excellent concentration!"
A glow of pride and joy instantly blossomed on Hermione's small face. She tried hard to maintain the output of magic, but it was clearly a struggle, and the feather began to sway slightly.
Just then, Lynn, who was sitting next to her, also raised his wand. He didn't cast the spell immediately, but closed his eyes, seemingly feeling something. The star stone in his chest gave a faint pulse. He wasn't feeling his own magic, but rather sensing the milky white halo at the tip of Hermione's wand – that pure but slightly sluggish energy flow.
He opened his eyes, and his star-patterned fir wand traced a strange, almost imperceptible arc in the air, like a star's trajectory. There was no incantation, no light, not even a noticeable magical fluctuation. But the moment he completed this tiny movement—
Hermione suddenly felt the sluggishness in her wand disappear! It was as if a gentle yet firm warm current (from the moon-white stone?) instantly permeated the magical pathway! The milky white halo enveloping the feather at her wand tip suddenly became bright and stable! The feather, which had been teetering, was as if supported by an invisible airflow, rising lightly and steadily into mid-air, floating stably, emitting a light several times brighter and softer than before! It was even purer and more ethereal than the light from the feather Professor Filius Flitwick had demonstrated!
"merlin's beard!" Professor Filius Flitwick excitedly jumped off the stack of books (nearly falling), adjusting his round-rimmed spectacles, looking at Hermione in disbelief, "Perfect! Absolutely textbook 'Lumos Levioso'! Five points to Gryffindor! Miss Granger, your talent is astonishing!"
Hermione herself was stunned. She looked at the stably glowing, floating feather in the air, then at the wand in her hand, her small mouth slightly agape. That feeling of magic suddenly becoming incredibly smooth a moment ago... what was that about? She subconsciously looked at Lynn beside her.
Lynn had already put away his wand and was calmly looking at her, a hint of an imperceptible smile and... encouragement? in his deep eyes. He nodded slightly, as if to say: See, you can do it.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and her cheeks quickly flushed. Was it him? That strange smoothness just now... could it have been him? But how did he do it? No incantation, no light... Just as her mind was in a whirl, Lynn raised his own wand, pointed it at the feather in front of him, and clearly enunciated: "Lumos Levioso."
A condensed, profound, deep blue stream of light, like morning mist being cut through, instantly surged from the wand tip, precisely enveloping the feather. The feather did not slowly rise, but was instantly and smoothly suspended in the air as if guided by an invisible star track! It no longer emitted a soft milky white light, but a restrained, deep blue glimmer, like a cold night's stars. The light was stable, profound, with a peculiar cold texture, complementing Hermione's vibrant milky white light.
"Oh! Equally excellent! Mr. Li!" Professor Filius Flitwick exclaimed again, "Unique magical characteristics! Deep and stable! Another five points to Gryffindor!"
Ron's mouth hung open as he looked at the starlight-emitting feather in front of Lynn, then at his own feather lying on the table, and wailed: "That's not fair!"
The atmosphere in the subsequent Transfiguration class was entirely different.
Professor McGonagall's classroom was on the second floor, spacious, cold, with only a podium and neatly arranged desks. Professor McGonagall herself was the embodiment of her classroom, dressed in her impeccable dark green robes, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, her expression as stern as granite. Her sharp gaze swept over each first-year entering the classroom, and the room instantly became so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
"Transfiguration," Professor McGonagall's voice was as severe as her gaze, "is the most complex, most dangerous, and most disciplined magic you will learn at Hogwarts. It requires precise incantations, perfect wand movements, and strong willpower. Any foolish antics or carelessness could lead to... irreversible consequences." Her gaze lingered on Ron and Seamus for a moment, and both immediately shrank their necks.
"Today, our goal is to transform what is in front of you—" Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and a smooth, polished round pebble appeared on each student's desk, "—into a polished brass button of the same size!"
She drew her wand, her movements precise, swift, and without flourish, pointing it at a pebble on the podium: "**Forma Mutatio!**"
A dazzling, metallic-silver-white flash of light! The pebble on the podium instantly vanished, replaced by a shiny, clearly edged brass button! The entire process was lightning-fast and clean.
"Did you see that?" Professor McGonagall put away her wand. "The incantation: **Forma Mutatio**. The wand movement: a quick and steady half-turn from inside out, like turning a key. Willpower: you must clearly visualize every detail of the target form in your mind! Now, begin practicing!"
Chapter 18: The Demonic Light Emerges and the Synchronicity of the Stars and Moon (Part 2)
A tense whisper filled the classroom. Professor McGonagall slowly paced between the desks, like a hawk surveying its territory, her sharp gaze scrutinizing every student's movements.
"Mr. Finnigan! Is your wrist swatting flies? Start over!"
"Mr. Weasley! Enunciate the spell clearly! It's not 'Changey Changey'!"
"Mr. Potter, willpower! Imagine the texture of the button! Not the shape of a stone!"
Strict criticisms were constant. Ron's pebble only emitted a puff of smoke and became blacker; Harry's pebble twisted, turning into an irregular metallic lump; Seamus's pebble directly split into two halves.
Hermione once again became the focus. She was completely concentrated, her small face slightly flushed from effort, and fine beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. She meticulously followed the instructions, clearly enunciating the spell, striving for perfect wrist movements, and desperately visualizing the details of a brass button in her mind.
"Forma Mutatio!"
A silvery-white light flashed! The pebble on her desk... transformed! But it wasn't a perfect button; instead, it became a metallic disc with somewhat rough edges, a color between stone and brass, and an irregular shape. It barely resembled the outline of a button.
"The form is close, but the details are crude, the Starlight Magic control is not precise enough, and it lacks metallic texture." Professor McGonagall walked over to her, examining the "metallic disc," and gave an objective but merciless evaluation, "Miss Granger, your theoretical foundation is very good, but practice requires more precise control. Start over."
Hermione's small face instantly fell, the pride from Charms Class earlier vanished, replaced by frustration and a hint of grievance. She bit her lower lip, her eyes slightly red, and reluctantly raised her wand again.
Lynn watched. He could understand Hermione's frustration. Transfiguration demands extremely high levels of detail and precise control, which is precisely an area Hermione, with her book knowledge, found difficult to fully master at the moment. He picked up his own pebble, concentrated, and clearly constructed a three-dimensional model of a standard brass button in his mind—the size, curvature, smoothness of the edges, the central perforations, and even the subtle metallic texture. The power of the star stone granted him powerful mental construction abilities.
"Forma Mutatio." His voice was calm and even, his wrist movements precise, steady, and meticulously rotated half a turn, like a machine.
A deep blue light flashed and disappeared, so quickly that one might almost think it was an illusion. The pebble on his desk vanished, replaced by a perfect button with smooth edges, uniform color, and the genuine luster of brass! Even the central perforations were clear and round!
"Perfect!" Professor McGonagall's voice carried a hint of barely concealed surprise and approval. She quickly walked to Lynn's desk, picked up the button, and examined it carefully. "Precise form, complete material transformation, precise and efficient Starlight Magic control! Gryffindor, ten points! Mr. Li, you did very well!" The initial scrutiny in her gaze towards Lynn was now replaced by intense interest.
Hermione looked at the perfect button on Lynn's desk, then at her own rough metallic disc. The stark contrast made her even more frustrated, almost making her bite through her lip. She tried again, but the pebble only turned slightly yellow, moving further away from being a button.
"Don't rush," Lynn's low voice sounded beside her, very soft, audible only to her, "Imagine its weight, the coolness of the metal, the tactile sensation of rubbing it with your fingertips, and not just its appearance."
Hermione paused. Weight? Tactile sensation? She had previously only focused on visual form. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to recall the feeling of touching a brass object—that heavy, smooth, slightly cool texture. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze held a hint of calmness.
"Forma Mutatio."
This time, the silvery-white light was much more stable. The pebble on her desk transformed into a brass button that, while its edges were not yet perfect, already had a distinct metallic luster and texture! It was much better than before!
"Significant progress!" Professor McGonagall nodded, "Keep that feeling, Miss Granger!"
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, giving Lynn a grateful look. Her earlier frustration was replaced by new motivation. Lynn returned an encouraging look. The star stone and the moon-white stone, across the desk, seemed to silently communicate the joy of success.
In the afternoon's History of Magic Class, Professor Binns (a translucent, monotonous ghost Professorwhose voice was like chanting scriptures) lectured on "The Rise and Fall of Medieval European magicCouncils," which for most first-years was an excellent lullaby. Harry and Ron quickly began nodding off. Hermione, however, forced herself to stay awake, diligently recording key points in her starstone notebook (using the pen of the stars, with her thoughts flowing, the starlight writing was incredibly smooth). Lynn appeared to be listening, but in reality, he was partly thinking about how to repair the crack at the tip of the pen of the stars, and the subtle connection between the astrolabe compass and Hermione's moonlight magic.
In the evening, the day's classes ended. At dinner, the "sky" of the Great Hall's dome had turned a deep inky blue, dotted with sparse stars.
"Astronomy Class tonight!" Hermione's eyes lit up as she looked at the timetable. "It's in the highest North Tower! We can see the full night sky!"
As night deepened, a chill permeated the air. Led by Prefects, the first-years walked through the silent Castle corridors, climbed the long and narrow spiral stone staircase, and finally reached the observatory at the top of the North Tower. The view here was expansive, the night wind was biting, and the deep purple sky was like a giant velvet blanket adorned with dazzling diamonds. The Milky Way stretched across the heavens, breathtakingly magnificent.
The Astronomy Professor was a tall, slender Witch with long silver hair and gentle eyes—ProfessorAurora Sinistra. She distributed brass orreries and star charts.
"Tonight, we will get to know the king of the autumn sky—the 'Crown of the Gryphon' constellation group," Professor Sinistra's voice was as soft as the night wind. She pointed to a crown-like pattern formed by several bright stars in the eastern sky, "and the 'Moonlight Lake' nebula it guards..."
Lynn's gaze, however, was involuntarily drawn to another part of the sky. Southwest of the "Crown of the Gryphon," a star emitting a soft, milky-white light was exceptionally bright, and not far from it, a deep-colored, inwardly glowing blue star shimmered in harmony, as if forming a natural star map in the night sky. The star stone in his chest warmed slightly, as if resonating with that part of the sky. He subconsciously looked at Hermione beside him.
Hermione was intently comparing the star chart, measuring angles with the orrery, her small face looking especially serious in the starlight. The moon-white stone pendant on her chest, against the backdrop of the night, was emitting an extremely faint, soft glow almost identical to the milky-white star in the distance.
Lynn's heart stirred. He quietly took out the palm-sized astrolabe compass from his pocket. While Professor Sinistra was guiding another group of students, he gently placed the compass on the cold stone railing, held the star stone in one hand, and injected a faint trace of magic. At the same time, his mind was highly concentrated, no longer forcefully simulating, but striving to sense the pure and unique moonlight energy emanating from Hermione beside him.
This time, there was no chaotic conflict. When Lynn's Starlight Magic carefully, like a stream, touched and enveloped Hermione's naturally emanating moonlight aura, the etched star trajectories inside the astrolabe compass were once again softly and steadily lit up! Silver light points slowly flowed, forming a tiny yet clear dynamic star map! Even more wondrous, the core of the star map was precisely those two mutually illuminating milky-white and deep-blue stars in the night sky!
On the warm jade casing of the compass, a line of tiny ancient characters, formed by Starlight, quietly appeared:
"Twin stars shine, trajectories intertwine, the beginning of destiny."
Lynn's heartbeat subtly quickened. He quietly put away the compass, his gaze falling once again on Hermione's focused profile. The night wind stirred the wisps of hair by her cheek, and starlight fell into her bright eyes. The star stone and the moon-white stone, separated by mere inches, resonated silently under the vast starry sky, like two stars lost in the universe finally finding their mutual gravitational path.
Professor Sinistra's voice drifted over: "...Remember, children, the night sky not only guides direction but also mirrors the soul. When you are lost, look up; your star is always there."
Hermione seemed to sense something. She looked up from the star chart, meeting Lynn's profound gaze. They smiled at each other under the starlight, no words needed, a wonderful understanding and warmth quietly flowing between them. The night wind remained biting, but in the observatory, a warm star lamp, belonging only to them, seemed to have been lit.
Chapter 19: The Smoke of Magical Potions and the Undercurrent of Warmth
The Starlight and night wind of the Observatory still seemed to linger on his skin, but the rhythm of Hogwarts never ceased with the night.
The atmosphere of Halloween Eve, like fermenting pumpkin juice, permeated every corner of the Castle.
The sweet scent of baked pumpkin pie and caramel apples drifted through the corridors, and giant pumpkin lanterns were held aloft by the Levitation Charm, their hollowed-out eyes and mouths flickering with orange-yellow flames, casting dancing, eerie shadows.
Flocks of bats (magically conjured decorations) glided silently beneath the vaulted ceilings.
However, the last day of classes before the festival was like a bitter pill coated in sugar.
For the Gryffindor first-years, this bitter pill was called — **Potion Class**.
The Potion Class classroom was located deep beneath the Castle, even colder and damper than Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom.
The light was dim, relying entirely on the eerie green torches on the walls for illumination, casting the rows of stone tables and the shriveled animal specimens hanging above them in a scene reminiscent of a horror story.
The air was filled with a pungent smell, a mixture of sulfur, decaying plant roots, and some old Potion, making one's nostrils itch.
Professor Snape, like a silent black shadow, glided noiselessly into the classroom.
His greasy black hair hung on either side of his sallow cheeks, his thin lips were tightly pressed beneath his hooked nose, and his black robes billowed behind him like a bat's wings.
The oppressive feeling brought by his cold, deep-set black eyes as they swept across the room made even the dripping condensation on the walls sound harsh.
"In my class," Snape's voice was low, silky, and chillingly cold, exceptionally clear in the silent dungeon, "there will be no foolish wand-waving, nor will there be any showing off of those... insignificant theories."
His gaze, like a poisoned needle, precisely pierced Hermione, who was sitting in the front row and unconsciously straightened her back, "What is needed here is precise proportions, absolute obedience, and..."
His gaze slowly swept over Lynn, with a hint of deep scrutiny, "...a clear mind, undisturbed by foolish impulses."
He began a lengthy opening monologue on Potions, his tone filled with disdain for the "reckless lions" and sarcasm for "certain inflated self-perceptions."
When he finally, unhurriedly, drew his wand and wrote today's Potion recipe on the blackboard — "**Blemish Bane Potion**" — a tense, low pressure had already permeated the classroom.
The recipe steps were complex and required extreme precision: porcupine quills had to be added immediately after stirring counter-clockwise three and a half times when the Potion was smoky blue; adding them too early would cause an explosion, too late would render the Potion ineffective; slug mucus needed to be filtered three times to remove all impurities; dried nettle powder had to be ground as fine as dust...
"Two to a group," Snape's cold voice fell, "Begin.
Any foolish mistake will lead to you... and your poor partner, suffering unpleasant consequences."
His gaze swept over Lynn and Hermione again.
Hermione immediately took out her notebook (ordinary parchment, the starstone notebook was too precious) and quickly copied the recipe steps, her small face tight, her eyes as focused as if she were disarming a bomb.
Lynn calmly stood up to retrieve materials from the storage cabinet at the back of the classroom.
When he returned with a glass jar of slug mucus and a jar of dried nettle powder, he saw Hermionefrowning at the flickering flame beneath the cauldron, seemingly finding the heat unstable.
"The flame temperature needs to be five percent higher," Lynn placed the materials on the table, his voice very soft, only audible to Hermione.
Hermione paused, then immediately looked at Lynn.
How did he know?
But she didn't question him, quickly pointing her wand tip at the base of the flame and adjusting the angle ever so slightly.
The flame beneath the cauldron immediately became more stable and intense, its color changing from orange-yellow to a bright blue.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered, the taut string in her heart slightly relaxing due to Lynn's reminder.
The brewing began.
Hermione was in charge of the main operations, strictly following the steps in her notes, muttering key points to herself: "Three and a half counter-clockwise stirs... filter three times... grind the powder..."
Although her movements were a bit clumsy, she strove for precision in every step.
Lynn, like the most synchronized assistant, precisely handed her the prepared materials when needed: nettle powder ground as fine as dust, mucus filtered clear of impurities, and venomous snake fangs (a substitute material in the recipe) sliced as thin as cicada wings with a silver knife.
Snape moved silently through the narrow aisle like a ghost.
He stopped by Neville and Seamus's cauldron, watching the rolling yellow-green smoke and pungent smell emanating from it, a cold arc forming on his thin lips: "Mr. Longbottom, I presume your clumsy hands intend to turn the cauldron into a biochemical weapon?
Gryffindor, five points deducted for your astonishing destructive power."
Neville's face instantly turned greener than the Potion in the cauldron.
He then stopped at Ron and Harry's table.
Ron was frantically stirring, while Harry was filtering slug mucus, with large clumps of viscous material still remaining in the filter.
"Mr. Weasley, is your stirring stick excavating for gold?
Mr. Potter, your filtering results are more nauseating than a Troll's booger.
Five points deducted from each of you."
Ron's face flushed crimson, and Harry also lowered his head in embarrassment.
When Snape strode to Lynn and Hermione's table, the Potion in their cauldron displayed a textbook-perfect smoky blue, its surface smooth and bubble-free, emitting a faint, cool, mint-like scent.
Hermione held her breath, intently watching the Potion's color, holding a porcupine quill in her hand, waiting for the optimal moment to add it.
Snape's cold gaze swept over the cauldron as if it were a physical entity, then over Hermione's tense small face and Lynn's calm profile.
He seemed to be waiting for them to make a mistake.
Just at the critical point where the Potion's color was transitioning from smoky blue to light purple, Snape suddenly spoke coldly: "Miss Granger, tell me, what would happen if the porcupine quill were added now?"
Hermione's attention was instantly diverted!
She instinctively looked at Snape, her mind rapidly searching for the answer: "Professor, the Potion's color has not yet fully stabilized; adding the porcupine quill at this moment would cause its unstable magical elements to violently clash with the transitional Potion, possibly triggering a small explosion or producing corrosive fumes..."
The moment she answered, the Potion's color in the cauldron, due to a microsecond change in heat, had already missed the optimal smoky blue!
Lynn's pupils constricted sharply.
He didn't hesitate for a moment; the instant Hermione realized the color change, his left hand shot out like lightning, precisely grasping Hermione's wrist, which held the porcupine quill, stopping her instinctive motion to drop it!
At the same time, his right hand's wand, with a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, precisely tapped the flame beneath the cauldron.
A faint, dark blue Starlight flashed and vanished!
The flame beneath the cauldron seemed to be instantly suppressed and adjusted by an invisible force; the intense blue glow dimmed for a moment, then immediately stabilized.
It was this instant of precise cooling that miraculously stabilized the Potion, which was about to change color, in its smoky blue state!
"Now," Lynn's deep voice sounded in Hermione's ear, holding her wrist and guiding her hand, precisely dropping the porcupine quill into the center of the cauldron, "Counter-clockwise, three and a half turns."
Hermione, almost mechanically, relying on the steady strength transmitted from Lynn's wrist, completed the stirring motion.
The Potion made a faint "sizzle" sound, emitting a small wisp of harmless white steam, and its color instantly transformed into a clear, pale purple, like a solution of fine amethyst, exuding a richer, cool minty scent.
It was a success!
Professor Snape's cold gaze lingered for a moment on Lynn's hand, which still held Hermione's wrist, then shifted to the perfect Potion in the cauldron.
There was no change in expression on his sallow face, but in those deep, dark eyes, a highly complex glint flashed—there was scrutiny, inquiry, and a hint of... an unspeakable grimness.
He neither deducted points nor offered praise, merely gliding silently to his next target, just as he had arrived.
The crisis was averted.
Lynn released her hand.
Hermione's wrist still retained the warmth of his fingertips and that sense of steady strength.
She looked down at the perfect Potion in the cauldron, then at her own wrist, which had just been held, her heart pounding in her chest, not because of the recent scare, but because of Lynn's unhesitating action and that... reassuring control.
Her cheeks uncontrollably began to flush.
"Tha...thank you, Lynn," her voice carried a barely perceptible tremor, her gaze evasive, not daring to look at him.
"Focus," Lynn's voice remained calm, as if he had merely brushed away a speck of dust, his gaze signaling her to continue with the final cooling step.
Hermione took a deep breath, suppressing the flutter in her heart, and moved the cauldron away from the flame, adding the final moon-white stone powder according to the steps.
The Potion instantly cooled and solidified, becoming a clear, shimmering purple paste, perfectly flawless.
At the end of class, Professor Snape collected everyone's finished products.
Hermione and Lynn's Potion, without a doubt, received the highest rating (though no verbal praise).
But as they walked out of the cold, damp underground classroom and into the relatively brighter lights of the corridor and the warm glow of the Halloween decorations, Hermione felt a little down.
Snape's biting words in class and his sarcasm about her "inflated self-perception" stung her proud self-esteem like tiny needles.
"How could he say that!" On the way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Hermione finally couldn't help but complain softly to Lynn, her eyes slightly red, "I just wanted to do well! I just wanted to prove..."
"His evaluation is irrelevant," Lynn's voice was not loud, but it carried a peculiar soothing power, interrupting her self-doubt, "Your worth does not need to be proven through his approval."
He stopped, turning his head to look at Hermione.
The flickering pumpkin lantern light in the corridor danced in her bright eyes, also illuminating a speck of dried nettle powder that had somehow landed on her nose.
Lynn raised his hand again; this time, he didn't touch her wrist, but very naturally used the pad of his thumb to gently brush her nose.
The sensation of his fingertips was clearer than before.
Hermione's body stiffened again, but this time, she didn't nervously flinch away; instead, her long eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and her cheeks quickly flushed red, like two ripe cherry tomatoes.
She could clearly feel the subtle tingling as Lynn's calloused fingertip grazed her skin, and the warmth, like being baked by a warm sun, clearly transmitted from the star stone.
The moon-white stone in her chest responded with a warm current.
"Powder," Lynn withdrew his hand, rubbing the speck of powder between his fingertips, his tone still calm.
"...Mm," Hermione's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, and she lowered her head, but this time she didn't immediately shy away.
The frustration from Snape's earlier criticism seemed to be strangely dispelled by the warmth of Lynn's fingertips and his words "irrelevant."
A subtle, sweet warmth quietly surged in her heart, diluting the chill of the dungeon.
The Great Hall had transformed into a festive sea.
Thousands of pumpkin lanterns floated in mid-air, bats darted beneath the vaulted ceiling, and the four long tables were laden with an astonishingly lavish Halloween feast: whole roasted turkeys, sizzling with oil and golden-skinned, giant steak and kidney pies oozing gravy, mountains of roasted potatoes and creamed corn, and countless strangely shaped desserts—screaming jellies, chocolate cakes with skull-shaped heads, and pumpkin pies constantly oozing "blood-red" syrup.
The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table was lively.
The twin brothers, Fred and George, were performing "making the pepper shaker do the can-can," drawing bursts of laughter.
Percy, meanwhile, was sternly scolding them.
Harry and Ron were eagerly devouring a giant meat pie.
Lynn and Hermione found seats.
Hermione's mood was visibly brighter; she curiously poked a chocolate eyeball that split open on its own to reveal "worms" (actually strawberry jam), and after a startled jump, couldn't help but laugh, her eyes curving into crescent moons.
Lynn, meanwhile, took a piece of what looked like a relatively normal pumpkin pie.
Midway through the feast, the atmosphere was at its peak.
Suddenly, the Great Hall doors burst open!
Professor Quirrell stumbled in, his signature violet turban, reeking strongly of garlic, askew on his head.
His face was bloodless, filled with extreme terror, and his lips trembled as if he were about to faint.
"Tr-Troll! In the dungeons!" he shrieked, his voice distorted by fear, "Thought... thought you should know..."
With that, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed beside a high-backed stool, unconscious.
Dead silence!
Absolute dead silence enveloped the entire Great Hall!
The next second, terrified screams erupted like a tsunami!
The students were in chaos!
Headmaster Dumbledore suddenly stood up, his booming voice like a stabilizing needle, instantly quelling the chaos: "Silence!"
His sharp gaze swept across the room, "Prefects! Immediately lead your respective house students back to your Common Room!
Teachers, follow me!"
The entire Great Hall immediately descended into greater chaos.
Percy instantly stood up, waving his arms and shouting: "Gryffindors!
Follow me!
This way!
Quickly!"
The crowd surged towards the door like startled fish.
In the chaos, Lynn immediately grabbed Hermione's wrist, shielding her by his side to prevent her from being knocked over.
His hand was firm and strong, the warmth from his palm and that undeniable protective posture instantly calmed Hermione, who had also been somewhat panicked.
She even forgot to pull away, only instinctively squeezed back tightly, as if it were the only piece of driftwood.
"Don't be afraid, follow me," Lynn's deep voice sounded in her ear, so steady it was captivating.
They squeezed towards the door with the flow of people.
Just as they passed the unconscious Professor Quirrell on the ground, Lynn's footsteps paused almost imperceptibly.
The star stone in his chest, without warning, sent a sharp, cold, malevolent, and chaotic stab of pain!
As if pricked fiercely by an invisible poisoned needle!
The sensation was fleeting, so quick one might have thought it a delusion.
Lynn sharply turned his head, his gaze, like lightning, shot towards the unconscious Professor Quirrellon the floor.
Beneath that violet turban, something seemed to... twist?
"Lynn! Hurry!" Hermione anxiously tugged at him, interrupting his gaze.
Lynn withdrew his gaze, suppressing the surprise and doubt in his heart, and protected Hermione as they quickly joined the evacuating crowd.
The chaotic footsteps, terrified shouts, and flickering light of the pumpkin lanterns intertwined into a scene of pandemonium.
But the sensation of Hermione's tight grip on his wrist, and the lingering cold sting from the star stone, quickly dispelled by the warm current of the moon-white stone, reminded him—beneath the revelry of Halloween, a deeper, unsettling shadow, far more profound than a Troll, was hidden.
And what he needed to protect was right beside him.
Chapter 20: Stoneskin's Low Roar and Warm Light's Ripples (Part 1)
The Great Hall's chaos was like a pond hit by a boulder, ripples of panic instantly spreading to their peak. Dumbledore's commands were like a lighthouse, guiding the disordered crowd. Percy Weasley's hoarse shouts were faint amidst the screams and shoves: "Gryffindor! This way! Don't push! Keep up!"
Lynn gripped Hermione's wrist, her slender wrist bones trembling slightly in his palm. His tall stature was like a nimble barrier, precisely carving out a relatively safe path through the chaotic, surging crowd, firmly shielding her between himself and the cold stone wall. His steps were steady; every turn, every block, carried an almost instinctive protective posture. Hermione followed him closely, her initial panic replaced by a strange sense of security. She could clearly feel the taut strength of his arm muscles and an undeniable will to protect. The star stone and moon-white stone, separated by clothing, clearly resonated amidst their breathless escape, transmitting each other's heartbeats and a sense of connection after surviving a calamity.
"This way! Hurry!" Percy waved from a corner ahead. Most of the Gryffindor students were surging towards the main staircase leading to the tower.
Just then, Hermione's steps abruptly halted! Her face instantly turned pale, her large eyes filled with terror as she stared fixedly at Lynn: "Wait! Parvati! Lavender! They... they're in the girls' lavatory! After Astronomy Class, they said they wanted to fix their hair... It's on the first floor! The disused one!"
Fear instantly seized her like a cold tide. The Troll was in the underground classroom, and the first floor... was too close to there! She abruptly pulled free from Lynn's hand, turning to run in the opposite direction: "I have to go find them!"
"Hermione!" Lynn's voice was decisive, his arm, like an iron hoop, stopped her again, with more force than before, carrying an undeniable resolve. "You can't go! It's too dangerous!" His deep eyes locked onto her, filled with unprecedented sternness and worry.
"But they..." Hermione was on the verge of tears, her eyes welling up, her voice choked with sobs.
"I'll go!" Lynn's voice was low and powerful, carrying a heart-wrenching determination. "You follow the Prefect back to the Common Room! Immediately!" His gaze swept over Percy. "Weasley! Take her!"
Percy was also somewhat stunned by the sudden situation, but he reacted immediately, trying to grab Hermione's arm: "Granger! Hurry! Leave it to the Professors!"
"No! Lynn! You can't go alone!" Hermione struggled, tears finally falling. She clutched Lynn's robe sleeve tightly. "It's too dangerous! I'm coming with you!"
Watching the resolute tears in Hermione's eyes and her desperate worry, the softest part of Lynn's heart was fiercely struck. He knew that forcing her away now would only cause her more pain and self-reproach. Time was short!
"...Stay close to me!" Lynn no longer hesitated, turning to tightly grasp Hermione's hand, no longer just her wrist, but fingers intertwined! That firm and warm touch instantly conveyed strength and determination. "Don't leave my side for a single step! Understand?"
"Mm!" Hermione nodded vigorously, wiping away her tears, her eyes becoming exceptionally firm as she squeezed his hand, as if entrusting all her trust.
The two moved against the flow of evacuating people, like two fish swimming upstream, quickly turning into the corridor leading to the disused lavatory on the first floor. Percy's anxious shouts were left behind.
The closer they got to their destination, the more turbid the air became. The nauseating stench, a mix of mud, rotting flesh, and swamp gas, grew increasingly intense, almost suffocating. The torchlight flickering on the corridor walls cast distorted shadows on the stone. From a distance came heavy footsteps, like rolling boulders, accompanied by a grating sound of something heavy being dragged, and a low, muffled "grumble...Woo..." like an animal's growl. Each heavy thud made the flagstones beneath their feet tremble slightly.
Fear once again seized Hermione's heart. Her grip on Lynn's hand tightened unconsciously, her knuckles white. Lynn could clearly feel her trembling. He squeezed back firmly; the power of the star stoneseemed to transmit a stable warm current through their joined hands. The moon-white stone also responded with a slight warmth in Hermione's chest.
Turning the last corner, a terrifying sight met their eyes!
In the relatively wide corridor at the entrance of the disused lavatory, a colossal creature occupied almost the entire space! It was nearly twelve feet tall! Its skin was dirty, like dried granite, grayish-brown, covered in wrinkles and wart-like protrusions. Its huge head was like an irregular granite sphere, embedded with a pair of dull, cloudy, malevolent yellowish-brown small eyes. It was wielding a massive wooden club, stained with unknown filth (it looked like the trunk of a small tree), clumsily and violently smashing it against the tightly shut lavatory door!
**Bang! Boom!**
With each strike, the heavy wooden door groaned under the strain, wood splinters flew, and spiderweb-like cracks had already appeared on the door panel! Faint screams of terror from girls could be heard from inside the door!
"Parvati! Lavender!" Hermione cried out in alarm!
The Troll seemed to be further enraged by the screams from inside the door. It let out a deafening, furious roar: "Awooo—!!!" Foul-smelling saliva dripped from its crooked mouth. It raised its massive club high, preparing to deliver the final blow to the crumbling door!
"Hermione! Right!" Lynn growled, abruptly releasing Hermione's hand and pushing her towards a recess on the right side of the corridor, where discarded armor and junk were piled. "Hide! Don't come out!" His voice carried an undeniable command.
At the same time, Lynn's figure shot out like an arrow from a bow! He didn't charge at the Troll, but instead, with clear intent, dashed towards a heavy brass torch holder fixed to the stone wall on the left side of the corridor!
Just as the Troll's wooden club, with a destructive whoosh, was about to smash down on the wooden door, in that critical moment!
"**Reducto!**"
Lynn's spell was clear and cold! A concentrated, dazzling deep blue beam of light burst from the tip of his star-patterned fir wand! The beam was not aimed at the Troll's massive body, but precisely struck the connection point between the torch holder and the stone wall!
**Boom! Crack!**
A violent explosion accompanied by a piercing sound of metal breaking! The heavy brass torch holder was blown to Diffindo! One of the thick brass supports, with a sharp broken edge, was propelled by the explosion's shockwave, whistling and spinning out like a siege crossbow bolt!
**Thwack!**
A chilling thud!
The heavy brass tube, with immense kinetic energy, struck with incredible precision and force on the Troll's right wrist, which was holding the wooden club!
"Awooo—!!!" The Troll let out an earth-shattering, extremely painful shriek! The sound was even more terrifying than its previous roar, filled with pure agony! Its huge right hand instantly lost all strength, and the heavy wooden club crashed to the ground with a "clank," making the floor tremble. It painfully clutched its bloody, clearly twisted and deformed wrist, its massive body staggering backward due to the intense pain, hitting the stone wall with a dull thud. Its cloudy small eyes, filled with pain and fury, stared fixedly at Lynn at the other end of the corridor!
Opportunity!
Hermione's heart was practically in her throat! She saw the Troll retreat wounded, and the screams from inside the door turned into cries of fear. Without a moment's hesitation, the instinct for survival and worry for her friends overcame all fear! She rushed out from her hiding spot, her moonlight grapevine wand pointed directly at the Troll's eyes, which were even cloudier from pain and rage!
"**Stupefy!**"
A not-so-powerful Stupefy beam, with a milky white halo, shot towards the Troll! However, the Trollhad thick, tough skin and extremely high resistance to spells; this beam only made its huge head wobble, further enraging it!
"Roar!!!" The Troll was completely enraged! It abandoned the wooden door, its massive left hand, like a giant fan, swept with a foul wind, fiercely grabbing at Hermione, who was close by! Its speed far exceeded its clumsy appearance!
"Hermione!" Lynn's eyes were splitting! He was still some distance from Hermione! In desperation, he abruptly pointed his wand at the smooth flagstone floor beneath Hermione's feet: "**Lubricus!**"
A faint blue light flashed! The flagstones beneath Hermione's feet instantly became as if covered in a thick layer of butter!
"Ah!" Hermione cried out in surprise, her feet suddenly slipped, and her body involuntarily fell backward! This clumsy fall, however, narrowly and dangerously avoided the Troll's large hand, which could have crushed her bones!
The Troll's huge fingers grazed her hair, bringing with them a nauseating stench!
Lynn seized this fleeting opportunity, rushing to Hermione's side like a leopard, pulling her up from the ground and shielding her behind him. The Troll's attack missed, making it even more furious. It abandoned its injured right hand, supporting its body with its massive left hand, lowering its head, and like an out-of-control battering ram, with an air of crushing everything, it fiercely charged towards the two of them with its incredibly hard granite head!
That huge shadow and violent oppressive feeling instantly enveloped them! Hermione could even smell the Troll's intense stench!
There was no escape!
In this moment of life and death, Lynn's eyes were as cold as winter stars! He fiercely shielded Hermione behind him, his star-patterned wand pointing upwards at an extremely tricky angle, not at the Troll's head, but at the relatively vulnerable connection between its neck and shoulder, exposed as it lowered its head to charge! All his magic surged wildly, and the star stone erupted with unprecedented heat!
"**Petrificus Totalus!**"
An unprecedentedly thick, concentrated beam, shimmering with dazzling deep blue star-like light, like a magic cannonball fired from a barrel, with a shriek that tore through the air, precisely struck the Troll's wrinkled grayish-brown neck!
**Hum!**
A dull energy explosion! The deep blue starlight, like living vines, instantly spread and penetrated the skin on the Troll's neck!
The Troll's violent forward momentum was as if choked by an invisible giant hand! Its bloodshot yellowish-brown eyes instantly widened, filled with an unbelievable stiffness! Its massive body maintained its charging posture, but it was as if a pause button had been pressed; all its movements solidified in an instant! Then, under the influence of immense inertia, its body, stiff as a stone statue, crashed forward!
**Boom!!!**
An earth-shattering roar! The Troll's heavy body, like a collapsing mountain, heavily slammed onto the flagstone floor less than a foot from Lynn's and Hermione's toes! Debris flew, and dust filled the air! Its huge head smashed to the ground, just inches from Hermione's shoes, its dull, cloudy eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, utterly silent.
Chapter 21: Stoneskin's Low Roar and Warm Light (Part 2)
The corridor was deadly silent, with only the lingering dust and Hermione's frantic heartbeat and gasps.
It worked? Hermione stared at the Troll, which had fallen like a small mountain before her, her mind blank, her legs weak, barely able to stand.
Lynn quickly supported her, his arm firmly bracing her body. He was panting heavily; the all-out attack just now had consumed an enormous amount of magic, and the star stone radiated a searing afterglow. He watched the Troll on the ground warily, his wand still clutched tightly.
"Hermione! Lynn!" The bathroom door was suddenly pulled open a crack, and Parvati and Lavender's pale, tear-streaked faces peered out. Seeing the scene before them, they were too shocked to speak.
Just then, a hurried and chaotic sound of footsteps approached from a distance.
"Here! Quickly!" Professor McGonagde's stern voice rang out. She held her wand, followed by Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell (he was still wearing his turban, his face ashen, but he seemed to be "awake").
When Professor McGonagall saw the fallen Troll in the corridor, the shattered door, the scattered torch remnants, and Hermione, pale-faced and disheveled, protected behind Lynn, her usually serious face was filled with shock and lingering fear!
"Merlin's beard!" Professor McGonagall hurried forward, her sharp gaze quickly scanning the scene before settling on Lynn and Hermione. "You... what are you doing here?! Are you hurt?" Her voice carried a rare mix of sternness and concern.
"Miss Granger was worried about her friends..." Lynn explained briefly, his voice hoarse from the battle, glancing at Parvati and Lavender.
"We... we heard screams... and came to check..." Hermione's voice was still trembling, and she instinctively tightened her grip on Lynn's hand that was supporting her arm.
Professor McGonagall's stern gaze swept over the still-shaken Parvati and Lavender, then to the Trollon the ground, immobilized by Petrificus Totalus, and the broken brass pipe that had accurately hit the Troll's wrist. Finally, her eyes rested on Lynn, who, despite his unsteady breath, still stood tall, gripping his wand and protecting Hermione, his eyes filled with complex emotions—shock, disbelief, lingering fear, and a hint of undeniable... admiration.
"You..." Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, "...are absolutely reckless! Utterly foolhardy!" Her voice was still stern, but beneath the sternness was an undeniable concern. "Go to the Hospital Wing immediately! Madam Pomfrey will check if you're injured! Go now!" Her gaze fell on Hermione's dust-covered robe sleeve, where her elbow was scraped and bleeding slightly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"But Professor..." Hermione tried to say something else.
"No 'buts'!" Professor McGonagall interrupted her, turning to Snape and Quirrell. "Severus, Filius(Professor Flitwick had also arrived), please handle this. Professor Quirrell..." She glanced at the still-trembling Quirrell, "You also need to be checked."
The Hospital Wing was filled with the calming scent of herbs. Madam Pomfrey, a kind-faced but bustling Witch, was applying a cool, mint-scented green ointment to Hermione's not-too-deep but stinging elbow scrape, all the while scolding her: "Thankfully it's just a scrape! Merlin be praised! Two first-years against a Troll? Gryffindor courage can sometimes be... a headache!" Yet, her bandaging movements were very gentle.
Lynn sat on a nearby bed. Madam Pomfrey also insisted on examining him, confirming that he was merely exhausted from excessive magical expenditure, with no external injuries, but needed rest.
"You two will stay here for observation tonight!" Madam Pomfrey said unequivocally, finishing Hermione's bandage and handing Lynn a steaming cup of a strange-smelling invigorating Potion. "Drink it and rest well! No running around!" She glared sternly at both of them, then drew the curtain between the beds and went to check on other frightened students.
Only Lynn and Hermione remained in the small cubicle. Soft moonlight streamed in through the high window, and the air was filled with the cool scent of ointment and the strange aroma of the invigorating Potion. Once their taut nerves relaxed, a profound sense of exhaustion and the lingering shock of their near-death experience washed over them.
Hermione looked down at her bandaged elbow, then up at Lynn on the adjacent bed. The moonlight outlined his serene profile as he slowly drank the strange-tasting Potion, his brow slightly furrowed. The heart-stopping scenes in the corridor replayed in her mind—his unhesitating obstruction, his resolute decision to go against the current, his tightly clasped hands protecting, his precise and deadly attack, his tall figure shielding her... and finally, the firm strength in his arm when he caught her.
A strong, uncontrollable emotion, mixed with lingering fear, gratitude, dependence, and an indescribable flutter, instantly overwhelmed her like a surging tide. Tears welled up without warning, rolling down in large drops.
"Lynn..." Her voice was thick with a nasal tone and choked, her body trembling slightly from crying.
Lynn put down his cup and looked at her. In the moonlight, her small face was pale, tears streaked, and her messy brown curls clung to her cheeks. Her large eyes, usually full of wisdom and curiosity, were now brimming with tears, looking as fragile and helpless as a wounded small animal.
He stood up and walked to her bedside. Without a word of comfort, he simply reached out, and with extreme gentleness, brushed away the hot tears on her cheeks with his fingertips. His fingertips carried the coolness of residual Potion and the warm afterglow of the star stone.
The touch of his fingertips made Hermione's crying pause for a moment, then her tears flowed even more fiercely. She was no longer the proud little Witch, but just a frightened eleven-year-old girl. She instinctively reached out her uninjured left hand and grasped Lynn's hand that was wiping her tears, holding it tightly, as if it were her only reliance. His hand was warm and strong, still stained with the dust of battle and a faint scent of gunpowder (residual magic).
"I'm sorry..." Hermione choked, her vision blurred by tears, "I... I was too impulsive... I almost got you hurt..." If she hadn't insisted on finding Parvati and Lavender, Lynn wouldn't have had to face such a terrifying danger.
"You saved your friends." Lynn's voice was low and steady, carrying a peculiar calming power, letting her hold his hand tightly. "And you did very well." He was referring to her courage in casting Stupefy at the last moment, even if the effect was minimal.
"But you..." Hermione lifted her tear-filled eyes to look at him, "You used such a strong Petrificus Totalus... your magic..." She remembered how he had been panting.
"I'll be fine after some rest." Lynn said lightly, his thumb unconsciously and very gently caressing the back of her hand gripping his, where the delicate skin revealed slightly protruding finger bones from the force.
This subtle movement was like a faint electric current that instantly struck Hermione. All her grievances, fear, and lingering terror seemed to find an outlet in his silent comfort and steady gaze. She no longer suppressed it, and gently, tentatively, rested her forehead against Lynn's arm, like a fledgling seeking shelter, drawing in his reassuring scent, a mix of herbs and a faint Starlight, sobbing silently.
Lynn's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. The girl's warm forehead rested against his arm, her tears dampening his sleeve, and her soft sobs were like a kitten's whimpers, scratching at his heart. A strange, soft emotion spread through the cold depths of his Starlight. He did not pull his hand away, nor did he push her away. He simply stood still, letting her lean on him, and with his other hand, very slowly and gently, stroked her disheveled but soft brown hair. His movements were awkward, yet carried a clumsy tenderness.
Moonlight, like water, flowed silently in the tranquil cubicle of the Hospital Wing. The scent of medicine in the air seemed to have taken on a hint of sweetness. The fierce battle, the raging Troll, the chilling fear, all seemed to be shut out by this silent reliance and clumsy comfort. The star stone and moon-white stone emitted a soft, synchronized glow in the silence, like two stars that had finally found each other in the night and nestled together. Hermione's sobs gradually subsided, but her grip on Lynn's hand did not loosen, as if it were the only cable connecting her to a safe harbor. Madam Pomfrey's deliberately softened footsteps sounded in the distance, then gradually faded away, as if making space for this serene moment of survival.
Chapter 22: Rumors and Mistletoe Whispers
The moonlight and herbal scent of the Hospital Wing seemed to linger, but Hogwarts' wheel of time never stopped.
Madam Pomfrey reluctantly let Lynn and Hermione leave only after confirming Lynn's magic had stabilized and Hermione's scrapes were fine, just before breakfast the next day.
Stepping out of the Hospital Wing's heavy oak door, the clamor of voices and the smell of frying bacon in the corridor washed over them, as if they had entered a different world.
However, returning to the everyday Gryffindor Tower, the atmosphere was subtly different.
"Look! It's them!"
"Merlin's beard, they really defeated a Troll?"
"I heard Lynn Li used a super powerful Petrificus Totalus!"
"Hermione Granger rushed in too! She cast Stupefy!"
"Parvati said Hermione went back to save them…"
Whispers, like ripples on water, quickly spread as Lynn and Hermione entered the Common Room.
Countless gazes focused on them, filled with curiosity, admiration, scrutiny, and even a hint of awe.
The previously noisy Common Room instantly quieted down.
Ron and Harry jumped up from the armchairs by the fireplace and quickly ran to them.
"Lynn! Hermione! Are you two alright?" Harry's green eyes were filled with genuine concern and a touch of lingering fear.
"You scared us to death yesterday! Professor McGonagall only said you were in the Hospital Wing!"
"Madam Pomfrey said we're fine now." Hermione's voice was a little hoarse from fatigue.
She subconsciously adjusted her robe sleeve, covering the light green gauze on her elbow stained with ointment.
Her gaze swept over the students watching her and Lynn in the Common Room, her small face slightly tense, unaccustomed to being the center of attention.
Ron, on the other hand, widened his eyes, scrutinizing Lynn up and down as if seeing him for the first time: "You really… used Petrificus Totalus to freeze an adult Troll? Just as it was about to flatten you both?
Fred and George said that requires at least a fifth-year level of magic!" His tone was filled with incredulous amazement.
"Luck." Lynn's answer was as brief and calm as ever, as if he were merely stating the weather.
His deep gaze swept across the Common Room; the probing stares did not faze him in the slightest, and the star stone in his chest emitted a steady warmth.
"It wasn't luck at all!" Hermione immediately retorted, her tone carrying a protective edge she herself didn't notice, her small face slightly flushed with excitement.
"Lynn's plan was perfect! He first broke the torch holder, used the copper pipe to injure the Troll's wrist, making it drop its weapon!
Finally, he used Petrificus Totalus at the most dangerous moment! Every step was crucial!" She recounted it clearly, her eyes shining with admiration for Lynn's calm and strength.
Ron and Harry listened, dumbfounded.
The surrounding whispers grew louder.
"Alright, Miss Granger, Mr. Li." A stern voice rang out.
Professor McGonagall had appeared at the Common Room entrance sometime earlier.
Her gaze swept over the crowd with her usual sternness, but when she looked at Lynn and Hermione, there was a hint of undetectable gentleness.
"Given your… extraordinary courage last night," she deliberated on her words, "and, Miss Granger's concern for her companion's safety, though the actions were extremely reckless…" She gave Hermione a stern look, and Hermione immediately lowered her head, "Gryffindor will be awarded… fifty points for this."
"Fifty points?!" The Common Room instantly erupted!
The first-years gasped in astonishment!
One must know, the House Cup competition was fierce, and fifty points was an astronomical number!
Even Percy pushed up his glasses, revealing a surprised expression.
"Fifty points each?" Ron's mouth hung open.
"No," Professor McGonagall corrected, "fifty points in total.
Mr. Lynn Li, thirty points, Miss Hermione Granger, twenty points." Her gaze swept over them again.
"I hope this reminds you that true courage requires the guidance of wisdom, not pure impulsiveness.
Now, go eat breakfast and prepare for class!" She finished, turned, and left, leaving behind a flurry of excited chatter.
"Twenty-five points each is not bad!" Ron excitedly patted Harry's shoulder, "Gryffindor is definitely going to win against Slytherin now!"
Hermione, however, was a bit downcast.
She walked beside Lynn towards the Great Hall, muttering softly, "Professor McGonagall is right… I was too impulsive… If it weren't for you…" She recalled the danger of last night and Lynn's powerful magic that consumed so much, feeling a deep sense of guilt.
"The outcome was good." Lynn's voice was low, interrupting her self-reproach, "Miss Granger's courage is worth twenty points." He deliberately used Professor McGonagall's formal address, but his tone carried an almost imperceptible hint of teasing.
Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she glared at him playfully: "Don't talk like Professor McGonagall!" That little bit of emotion was easily diffused by Lynn's words, replaced by a subtle sweetness.
The moon-white stone in her chest clearly responded to the warm current of the star stone.
However, not everyone harbored goodwill.
In Potion Class, as Lynn and Hermione once again collaborated to brew a relatively simple "Awakening Potion" (a Potion that temporarily enhances focus), Professor Snape, like a gliding shadow, stopped by their table.
His cold black eyes, like probes, swept over their perfectly coordinated movements—Hermione stirring the pale golden liquid in the cauldron with concentration, while Lynn precisely handed over the neatly cut evening primrose petals.
Snape's sallow face was devoid of any expression, but his thin lips curved into an extremely cold arc.
"It seems last night's… adventurous experience has not affected Miss Granger's proud… theoretical application abilities." His voice was like a venomous serpent's hiss, laced with biting sarcasm, "And our deep-seated Mr. Li, still maintaining… a remarkable precision control?
I merely wonder if that instantaneous burst of powerful magic has overdrawn your… precious essence from 'Beyond the Starry Path'?" His gaze, like an ice pick, pierced Lynn, his words filled with undisguised malicious probing and mockery.
The flickering flames beneath the cauldron reflected Hermione's instantly pale small face and tightly pursed lips.
Snape's words were like poisoned needles, precisely pricking her underlying guilt and her concern for Lynn.
Her fingers, gripping the stirring rod, turned white at the knuckles, almost snapping the glass rod.
Lynn's movements did not falter in the slightest.
He calmly dropped the last evening primrose petal into the cauldron; the liquid instantly transformed into a clear, bright pale green, emitting a fresh, herbaceous scent.
Only then did he raise his eyes, meeting Snape's cold, scrutinizing gaze.
His deep black eyes were like an ancient well, unruffled, clearly reflecting only Snape's malicious face.
"Thank you for your concern, Professor." Lynn's voice was not loud, but it clearly overshadowed the bubbling of the cauldron, as calm as if stating a fact, "magic is like the stars, with its own trajectory.
Too much focus on others' trajectories can lead one to lose their own direction." He pointedly glanced at an extremely small, almost imperceptible mark on the hem of Snape's robe, a tear from some powerful magical creature that had been crudely mended with magic.
Snape's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly!
He abruptly clenched the fist hidden in his sleeve, and a fleeting look of furious surprise, as if a secret had been exposed, flashed across his sallow face!
He stared intently at Lynn, his cold black eyes swirling with a deeper gloom and… an indescribable hint of apprehension.
Finally, he said nothing, only letting out a suppressed cold snort, his black robes billowing as he slid like an enraged bat to his next target.
Hermione let out a long, silent breath, her tense body relaxing.
Her gaze towards Lynn was filled with undisguised gratitude and admiration.
In that moment, Lynn's calm yet invisibly sharp counterattack reassured her more than any spell.
She quietly reached out her hand under the table, her fingertips quickly, with a hint of comforting warmth, touching the back of Lynn's hand resting on his knee.
Lynn's fingers moved almost imperceptibly, but he did not pull away.
A clear warmth emanated from the star stone, dispelling the chill brought by Snape.
Time slipped into December amidst intense studies and quietly blossoming affections.
The Castle was thoroughly adorned with festive magic.
A giant fir tree stood in the center of the Great Hall, hung with singing golden bells, shimmering ice crystals, and constantly changing magical ornaments.
The corridors were filled with the sweet scent of pine needles and hot mead.
The suits of armor were enchanted, humming off-key Christmas carols.
Even Filch's scrawny cat, Madam Norris, had a small, crooked bow tied around her neck by a kind student.
As the Christmas holidays approached, the list of students staying at Hogwarts began to be compiled.
Hermione held her quill, looking at the "Stay at Hogwarts" and "Go Home" options on the parchment, caught in a small dilemma.
Of course, she missed her parents' warm dental clinic and her home in London, but… she secretly glanced at Lynn, who was quietly reading a thick magic tome by a nearby window.
He leaned against the window frame, winter sunlight streaming through the stained glass, casting colorful patterns on his serene profile.
He had no home to go to and could only stay at Hogwarts.
"Lynn," Hermione walked over, her voice tinged with hesitation, "Will you… stay at school for the Christmas holidays?"
Lynn looked up from his book and nodded: "Mm."
"Then… I…" Hermione's fingers unconsciously twisted the feather of her quill, her small face slightly flushed, "My mum and dad said… if I want to stay at school to experience a magical Christmas, I can…" Her voice grew softer and softer, but her meaning was unmistakable.
Lynn's deep eyes looked at her slightly flushed cheeks and evasive gaze, understanding dawned.
A faint smile touched his lips: "Christmas at Hogwarts should be very interesting." He didn't directly say "stay with me," but his gentle tone and gaze were the best response.
Hermione's eyes instantly lit up, as if stars had fallen into them: "Really? Then… then I'll stay too!" She immediately and enthusiastically signed her name next to the "Stay at Hogwarts" option on the parchment, her movements filled with joy.
After deciding to stay, Hermione seemed to have shed a small burden, and her whole demeanor became lighter.
She enthusiastically began discussing with Lynn what they could do while staying at school—exploring the edges of the Restricted Section in the Library (just thinking about it, of course), studying the dancing suits of armor, or going to the kitchens to ask the House-elves for special Christmas pastries (she'd heard about them from older students)… That afternoon, they had just borrowed a few books on Ancient Runes from the Library and were walking through an arcade adorned with holly and berry garlands.
Above the arcade, a sprig of vibrant green mistletoe, dotted with pearl-like white berries, hung magically in the center, exuding a fresh, herbaceous scent.
"Lynn, look!" Hermione pointed at the mistletoe, enthusiastically explaining, "The books say mistletoe has special magic meaning at Christmas; it symbolizes…" Her words abruptly trailed off.
Because Lynn's steps had also stopped.
He stood at the intersection of light and shadow at the arcade entrance, his deep gaze falling on Hermione's face, illuminated by the winter sun and glowing with a healthy blush, then slowly moving upwards to the sprig of vibrant green above her head, symbolizing love, peace, and… romantic encounters.
The winter sunlight outlined her fluffy, curly hair, and the air was filled with the scent of pine needles, parchment, and… the faint, sun-baked scent of books from the girl.
Hermione also noticed the subtle shift in atmosphere.
She followed Lynn's gaze upwards, seeing the sprig of mistletoe above her head, appearing exceptionally verdant and alluring under the magical light, and the unwritten romantic tradition associated with it.
Her cheeks instantly ignited as if touched by a sunset, the blush rapidly spreading to her earlobes and neck, her heart pounding uncontrollably, almost bursting from her chest.
She instinctively clutched the books in her arms, her fingers digging into the hardcover, her long eyelashes fluttering rapidly like startled butterfly wings, her gaze dropping in confusion, yet unable to resist stealing a quick glance at Lynn.
The arcade was so quiet that only the faint carols from a distance and their clearly audible heartbeats remained.
Sunlight filtered through the stained glass, casting dreamy patterns on the stone floor.
The mistletoe leaves swayed gently in the imperceptible airflow, and the white berries resembled shy eyes.
Lynn stood there silently, his gaze calm, yet filled with an unprecedented intensity.
He didn't speak or make any move, just looked at her deeply, as if to engrave her current shyness, confusion, and her captivating appearance, like a budding flower, into the deep memory of the star's trajectory.
The star stone in his chest pulsed with a clear and warm rhythm, like a silent drumbeat.
Hermione felt like she was suffocating.
Time seemed to stretch indefinitely.
What should she do? Run away? Or… Her gaze involuntarily fell on Lynn's clearly defined jawline, and then further down to his slightly pursed lips, which looked… somewhat soft?
This thought sent all the blood rushing to her head!
She abruptly closed her eyes, as if she could escape this heart-stopping ambiguous atmosphere that way.
Just as Hermione was about to turn and run away in embarrassment, Lynn moved.
He didn't lean in as the legends suggested, but instead, very slowly, with an almost precious reverence, he raised his right hand.
His fingertips did not touch her cheek or lips, but with a slightly cool touch, he very gently brushed a strand of her soft, curly hair, dyed golden by the sunlight, from her temple and tucked it behind her small ear.
His fingertip brushed the sensitive edge of her earlobe, sending a subtle, shiver-inducing electric current through her.
Hermione's body instantly stiffened, then trembled slightly from this extremely restrained yet incredibly intimate touch.
Her long eyelashes fluttered violently like butterfly wings, but she didn't open her eyes, only letting out a faint, trembling hum from her throat, barely audible.
"You have a stray hair." Lynn's low voice sounded in her ear, with an almost imperceptible huskiness, like a feather brushing her heart.
His fingers withdrew, seemingly still retaining the soft sensation of her hair and the delicate warmth of her earlobe.
Having done all this, he seemed to have merely completed a perfectly natural small task, turned, and was the first to walk out of the arcade enveloped by mistletoe magic, his steps still steady, though his back seemed a little straighter than usual.
The winter sun once again fell on her face, bringing a faint warmth.
Only then did Hermione dare to open her eyes, looking at Lynn's tall back, her cheeks still astonishingly hot, her heart pounding like a drum.
She raised her hand, her fingertips gently touching the edge of her earlobe where he had just brushed, where his cool touch and that… indescribable flutter still seemed to linger.
She hugged the books in her arms even tighter, as if to suppress her wildly beating heart.
The mistletoe leaves swayed gently behind them, the white berries sparkling with a pure luster in the sunlight.
There was no kiss, no embrace, only that one gentle gesture of brushing her hair, and a simple "You have a stray hair." Yet, in the girl's heart, it cast a star more brilliant than any magic, its ripples spreading, lingering long after.
She jogged a few steps to catch up with Lynn, walking side by side with him in the sun-drenched corridor, a silent understanding flowing between them, warmer than the winter sun.
The star stone and moon-white stone beneath their robes, separated by mere inches, emitted a soft and synchronized glow.