Chapter 35: Stubbornness and Tenderness Under the Star Marks
In the following days, Hermione's life seemed to revolve around the Hospital Wing. She strictly adhered to Madam Pomfrey's visiting schedule, appearing unfailingly at three in the afternoon, bringing warm pumpkin juice, cut fruit, or books she thought Lynn might be interested in—sometimes abstruse Ancient Runes theories, sometimes issues of 'Transfiguration Today' journal, and once she even brought a Muggle book, 'Principles of Basic Physics', tentatively asking if he wanted a change of pace.
Most of the time, Lynn just listened quietly, occasionally nodding slightly at key points, or expressing his views in extremely brief words. His spirit was slowly recovering, and his pale face gradually regained some color, but the injury to his chest was healing extremely slowly. Beneath the thick bandages, the charred skin and spiderweb-like cracks were still shocking. More worrying was the condition of his magic. Madam Pomfrey strictly forbade him from using even a trace of magic, warning that damage to the Star Essence was the most troublesome, with a long and uncertain recovery period, and a slight carelessness could leave permanent hidden injuries.
Hermione keenly noticed the subtle melancholy deep in his eyes. For someone as proud as Lynn, the sudden loss of power and being confined to a sickbed was probably more unbearable than physical pain. She could only try harder to find topics, attempting to distract him, or just quietly stay by his side, making the silence less difficult to bear.
This afternoon, Hermione arrived at the Hospital Wing as usual. Madam Pomfrey was in the inner room concocting a pungent-smelling ointment. Hermione tiptoed to Lynn's bedside, only to find him with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.
Sunlight fell on his tranquil sleeping face, his long eyelashes casting faint, fan-shaped shadows beneath his eyes. His breathing was steady, but his brow was slightly furrowed, as if troubled by something heavy even in his sleep. Hermione's heart softened, and she didn't wake him. She put down the things she had brought and was about to sit in a nearby chair when her gaze inadvertently swept over his hand resting outside the covers.
His fingers were outlining something on the white bedsheet with an extremely subtle, almost imperceptible movement.
Hermione held her breath and focused. The trajectory of his fingertip was not an unconscious scratch, but had a specific, familiar rhythm—it was the silent casting gesture for "Lumos"! He was trying to mobilize his magic!
A chill instantly shot from Hermione's feet to the top of her head! Madam Pomfrey's warning was still ringing in her ears! Was he crazy?!
Almost the next second after Hermione realized what he was doing, Lynn's body trembled violently! He suddenly opened his eyes, and a flash of pain and extreme weakness instantly appeared in his calm black eyes! He pressed his lips tightly, and fine beads of cold sweat immediately appeared on his temples. His hand on the bedsheet clenched abruptly, his knuckles turning white from the effort! Beneath the bandages covering his chest, something seemed to be forcibly suppressed, causing a violent heaving!
"Lynn!" Hermione gasped, rushing to the bedside, her heart pounding, "What are you doing?! You can't use magic! Madam Pomfrey said..."
Lynn panted a few times, forcibly suppressing the severe pain and dizziness caused by the magical backlash. He looked up at Hermione, his eyes showing a trace of embarrassment at being caught, but more a stubbornness and unwillingness that bordered on obsession. He didn't speak, just averted his gaze, his jawline tense.
Looking at his pale face and the cold sweat on his temples, Hermione was anxious and angry, but mostly heartbroken. "Don't you know how dangerous this is?!" Her voice was tearful, yet she dared not speak too loudly to alarm Madam Pomfrey, "Source damage is no joke! Forcibly mobilizing magic now will only worsen the injury! Do you want to never recover?!"
Lynn's lips were a pale, straight line; he remained silent. But his tightly clenched fists and slightly trembling shoulders betrayed his inner struggle. The loss of power, like a beast stripped of its claws, this feeling of powerlessness almost consumed him. He just wanted to confirm, even if it was just the faintest trace... Hermione looked at his stubborn profile, all her reproaches stuck in her throat, turning into deeper heartache. She took a deep breath, suppressing the surging emotions, and softened her voice, with an unprecedented gentleness and firmness: "Lynn, look at me."
Lynn's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and he slowly turned his head.
Hermione looked directly into his bottomless black eyes and said, word by word, clearly and earnestly: "I know this is hard. I know how important power is to you. But now is not the time to be strong. You need time, you need patience. Trust me, and trust Madam Pomfrey, okay?" Her voice was gentle, yet carried an undeniable strength, "I will be here until you are completely well. Anything you need, anything I can do, I will do. So... please don't take risks."
Her gaze was clear and firm, filled with undisguised concern and a stubbornness that was almost protective. Lynn looked at his reflection in the girl's eyes, at her slightly reddened eyes from tension and worry, and the taut string of unwillingness and anxiety in his heart seemed to be gently plucked by a gentle yet strong hand.
A crack appeared in his stubborn wall. His tightly clenched fists slowly, very slowly, loosened. His tense jawline also relaxed slightly. He did not speak, but the deep melancholy and ferocity in his eyes seemed to dissipate somewhat, replaced by a complex, weary expression tinged with a hint of compromise. He nodded almost imperceptibly, very slightly.
This small gesture finally allowed Hermione's suspended heart to settle. She let out a long sigh, feeling a layer of cold sweat on her back. She quickly picked up the warm towel nearby and gently wiped the cold sweat from his temples.
"Drink some water?" She picked up the water cup and carefully offered it to his lips.
Lynn silently took a few sips of warm water from her hand. The warm water slid down his dry throat, seemingly soothing the restless magical backlash within him.
The atmosphere finally eased. Hermione sat back in the chair, not immediately picking up a book as usual, but just quietly staying with him. The warm sunlight fell on both of them, and the air was filled with the smell of herbs and disinfectant, yet it was strangely no longer so pungent.
After a long while, Lynn's low, hoarse voice sounded, with a hint of awkwardness that was hard to detect: "...That book."
"Hmm?" Hermione didn't react for a moment.
"The Muggle..." He paused, "Physics."
Hermione's eyes lit up instantly! He had actively asked about the Muggle physics book she thought was least likely to interest him! This was a huge step forward! She quickly took out 'Principles of Basic Physics' from her bag and presented it to him like a treasure: "This one! It talks about force and motion, energy conversion, and... well, some basic laws of the universe. Although the manifestations are different from magic, I think some principles might be similar..."
She excitedly opened the book, pointing to the table of contents and beginning to explain, her voice regaining its usual vitality. Lynn listened quietly, his gaze falling on the unfamiliar formulas and concepts, not interrupting her. Sunlight fell on the pages of the book, and also on his focused profile, dispelling some of the gloom brought by his illness.
---
Time quietly slipped by with Hermione's gentle explanations and Lynn's occasional nods. When the chime signaling the end of visiting hours sounded, Hermione still felt a little reluctant to leave.
"Shall I continue explaining Newton's laws to you tomorrow?" She closed the book, looking at Lynnexpectantly.
Lynn's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, then he nodded: "...Mm."
Hermione couldn't help but smile, gathering her things to leave. As she reached the door, she couldn't resist looking back and saw Lynn's gaze still on her. She mustered her courage and quickly said, "Take your medicine on time and get plenty of rest!" Then, like a startled deer, she turned and ran out.
Lynn looked at the retreating figure disappearing through the doorway, then lowered his gaze to his own hand. His fingertips seemed to still retain the warm touch of the towel from when she wiped his cold sweat earlier. He slowly raised his hand, his fingertips unconsciously brushing over the thick bandages on his chest. The pain was still there, the weakness of depleted magic was ever-present, but the anxious wasteland in his heart, frozen by the loss of his power, seemed to have been touched by a faint yet continuous ray of warm sunshine.
The Hogwarts school year, after a tumultuous period, finally sailed into a calm conclusion. As exam week ended, the Castle was filled with a relaxed and pleasant sense of farewell. The sun grew hotter, and the Black Lake shimmered under its rays, as if sprinkled with crushed diamonds.
After staying in the Hospital Wing for a full three weeks, Lynn was finally 'graciously permitted' by Madam Pomfrey to return to the Tower to recuperate. However, he was still strictly restricted in his range of activities and forbidden from using any magic. The scorched scar on his chest had scabbed over, and the cracks at the edges had faded considerably, no longer shimmering with silver light, but leaving a permanent, gruesome scar as if struck by lightning. Most critically, his Star Essence, like a dry, cracked riverbed, was recovering extremely slowly. Madam Pomfrey frankly stated that it would require years of patient nurturing, and in the short term, he could only be a 'normal person' with magic so weak he was almost indistinguishable from a Squib.
This news was undoubtedly a heavy blow to the proud Lynn. On the day he was discharged, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were already waiting at the Hospital Wing entrance. When Lynn walked out in his neat school robes, his figure seemed a bit thinner than before, his face still pale from illness, but his eyes were calm, showing little emotion. Only Hermione noticed his fingers, hanging at his side, imperceptibly curling in the sunlight.
"Hey! Mate! You're finally out!" Ron clapped Lynn on the shoulder boisterously (carefully avoiding his chest), "How do you feel? Madam Pomfrey's Potions didn't pickle you, did they?"
Harry also stepped forward with a smile: "Welcome back to the team! We saved a lot of chocolate frogs for you!"
Lynn nodded at them in response. His gaze swept past them and landed on Hermione, who was a step behind. She had intentionally styled her hair neatly today, and her eyes sparkled with undisguised joy.
"Let's go," Hermione stepped forward, her voice light, trying to dispel the invisible heaviness, "Back to the Tower! There's a farewell party in the Common Room today. Fred and George made a lot of... uh... improved Butterbeer."
She didn't mention the magic, as if it were just a trivial issue.
The four walked together down the sunlit corridor. Lynn's steps were much slower than usual, and he was slightly out of breath. Hermione naturally slowed her pace, walking slightly behind him at his side, her gaze constantly monitoring his condition. Harry and Ron excitedly discussed their holiday plans and rumors of the Quidditch World Cup ahead of them, their chatter echoing in the corridor.
Just as they were about to reach the spiral staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower, a gentle voice called out to them.
"Mr. Lynn, Miss Granger. Please wait a moment."
Headmaster Dumbledore had appeared at the corner of the corridor at some point. His silver-white beard gleamed in the sunlight, and his deep blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles held an all-knowing wisdom and a hint of unnoticeable solemnity.
"Principal."
The four stopped.
"Harry, Ron, please wait a moment," Dumbledore said with a smile, his gaze falling on Lynn and Hermione, "I have a few words I'd like to discuss privately with these two young heroes."
Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Though curious, they obediently walked a short distance away to wait.
Dumbledore led the two to a sunny bay window nearby. Outside was the expansive Quidditch Pitchand distant rolling green hills.
"Firstly, allow me to once again express my deepest respect and gratitude," Dumbledore's voice was gentle and solemn. His gaze swept over Lynn's still pale face and the faint outline of bandages under his school robes, then rested on Hermione, "The courage, wisdom, and spirit of sacrifice you displayed in the matter of the Philosopher's Stone far exceeded your years. Hogwarts is proud of you."
Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, and she instinctively glanced at Lynn beside her. Lynn simply stood calmly, with little expression on his face.
"The Philosopher's Stone has already been personally retrieved and safely destroyed by Mr. Nicolas Flamel," Dumbledore continued, "Although Lord Voldemort's remnant soul escaped, this severe blow will prevent him from causing trouble again for a short time. This brief peace was bought with your blood and courage."
He paused, his deep blue eyes becoming exceptionally profound, as if they could pierce through appearances and look directly into the essence of the soul. "Regarding Mr. Lynn's injuries..." His voice deepened slightly, "The damage to the Star Essence, I have consulted ancient texts of the Starry School. This innate power, originating from the bloodline, cannot be restored by external Potions. It can only rely on slow self-nurturing and... strong mental guidance. Patience and time are the best medicine. Forcing it will only be counterproductive and cause irreversible damage."
His gaze pointedly fell on Lynn's face.
Lynn's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. Dumbledore knew! He even knew about the Starry School!
"As for you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore's gaze turned to Hermione, with a deep gentleness, "the power of the moon-white stone is equally ancient and mysterious. Its resonance with the star stonemay become an unexpected aid in Mr. Lynn's recovery process. The will to protect can sometimes create miracles."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively clutched the moon-white stone pendant at her chest. It was emitting a steady warmth. She looked at Lynn, her eyes filled with determination.
"Finally," Dumbledore's tone took on a hint of seriousness, "the Ministry of Magic is highly concerned about this incident. Minister Fudge... well, he may wish to send a specialist to speak with both of you during the summer holidays to understand the detailed events. Please be prepared."
He winked suggestively, "Of course, how you choose to recount it is your freedom."
This news made Hermione frown slightly. The Ministry of Magic's involvement? This was not good news.
"Alright, that's all," Dumbledore resumed his relaxed tone, "Enjoy your holidays, children. Especially you, Mr. Lynn, take good care of yourself. Your power will eventually return, in a more resilient way."
He gave Lynn a meaningful look and turned to leave.
Sunlight streamed through the bay window, warmly bathing the two of them. In the distance on the Quidditch Pitch, a few younger students clumsily chased a model Snitch on their brooms, their laughter faintly audible.
Lynn silently gazed out the window, the sunlight falling on his sharply defined profile, his long eyelashes casting faint shadows beneath his eyes. The scar on his chest throbbed faintly beneath his clothes, and the depleted magic within him was like a desolate desert. Dumbledore's words, the Ministry of Magic's attention, felt like invisible shackles. The path ahead was still shrouded in mist.
Just then, a cool yet soft hand carefully, tentatively, gently took his hand, which was hanging at his side.
Lynn's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and he slowly turned his head.
Hermione was looking up at him, the sunlight dancing in her brown eyes, sparkling with pure and resolute light. She didn't speak, just looked at him, squeezing his hand slightly, as if to transfer her own strength. Between their clasped hands, through their clothes, the moon-white stone transmitted a clear and warm throb.
That warmth, like a tiny electric current, slowly flowed through their clasped hands into Lynn's cold and weary body. He looked at the unwavering trust and protective determination in the girl's eyes, and the heavy desert in his heart seemed to be infused with a faint but incredibly resilient spring. He remained silent, not pulling his hand away, but instead, very subtly, squeezed back.
Power might be temporarily lost, but some things, after the storm, were quietly growing in another way, more enduring than the stars.
Chapter 36 New Home and Orange Cake Starlight
The bell marking the end of the term finally rang, and the Hogwarts Express, puffing white steam, carried students eager to return home away from the platform.
Lynn did not follow the crowd to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station.
He carried a simple suitcase (containing only his school robes, textbooks, and a few changes of clothes) and walked in a completely different direction with Hermione and her parents—Wendell and Aunt Monica Granger.
The taxi weaved through the bustling streets of London and finally stopped in front of a terraced house with a small garden.
Green ivy climbed the red brick walls, the white window frames were polished bright, revealing warm yellow light.
The air carried the scent of freshly mown grass and the sweet aroma of baking bread from next door, a stark contrast to the smell of disinfectant mixed with old dust that permeated Chestnut House.
"Welcome home, Lynn!" Dr. Aunt Monica Granger smiled warmly, taking the light suitcase from Lynn's hand as if it were something fragile.
She had brown curly hair similar to Hermione's, and her eyes were gentle yet capable.
"Your room is on the second floor, right next to Hermione's," Dentist Wendell Granger patted Lynn's shoulder, his strength just right to avoid his chest, his voice cheerful, "We tidied it up a bit, hope you like it.
If you need anything, just tell us, don't be shy." His gaze swept over Lynn's still pale face and overly quiet demeanor, filled with kind concern.
"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger." Lynn's voice was still low, but his usual aloofness was replaced by a raw gentleness.
Stepping into the entryway, warm, dry air enveloped him, mixed with the scent of old books, coffee, and baked goods—unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.
The living room sofa was soft and comfortable, covered with a beige long-pile carpet, and outside the French windows was a meticulously maintained small garden.
All of this formed too stark a contrast to the cold, empty Common Room, creaking bunk beds, and the ever-present smell of disinfectant and faint mildew in Chestnut House that he remembered.
"Don't call us Mr. and Mrs., it's too formal!" Aunt Monica feigned a scolding, "Just call us Uncle Wendelland Aunt Monica.
Go check out your room, then come down and try the orange cake I just baked!
Hermione said it was the only dessert you ever rated as 'acceptable'?" She winked mischievously at her daughter.
Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed, and she pushed Lynn towards the stairs: "Mom! Go check out the room!" Lynn was pushed by her onto the carpeted stairs, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards almost imperceptibly.
The room wasn't large, but it was bright and tidy.
A window faced the lush apple tree in the backyard.
The walls were painted a soft light blue, and a single bed with a dark blue star and moon patterned sheet was placed against the wall, next to a desk and wardrobe, both made of natural wood, simple and practical.
On the desk, there were even several brand new notebooks and a set of drawing tools neatly arranged—clearly Hermione's doing.
"This… is good," Lynn's gaze swept over every corner of the room, finally resting on the swaying tree shadows outside the window, he said softly.
The subtle feeling of suspension in his chest, caused by leaving his familiar environment, seemed to be gently supported by the warmth of this room and the vibrant greenery outside the window.
"Of course!" Hermione lifted her chin, with a hint of pride, "I picked the curtains, with a star and moon pattern, doesn't it look like the glow of your star stone?
I also chose the position of the desk, where the light is best.
And these notebooks…" She picked up a dark blue covered notebook, "They're for you to record… um, your Potion recovery progress!
Scientific observation is very important!" She tried to make her tone sound righteous, hiding her careful thoughtfulness.
Lynn turned to look at her.
The golden glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, outlining her fluffy curly hair, the blush on her cheeks had not completely faded, and her brown eyes sparkled, full of pure anticipation and a hint of imperceptible nervousness.
A strange, warm emotion, like a stone dropped into a calm lake, rippled in the depths of his silent heart.
The dinner atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant.
Aunt Monica's roasted chicken was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, and the meat lasagna was rich and creamy.
Uncle Wendell told amusing anecdotes from his dental clinic.
Hermione excitedly shared interesting stories from Hogwarts, deliberately avoiding all the dangerous parts, focusing on Peeves' pranks and Neville's "disaster" in Potion Class.
Lynn ate quietly, occasionally nodding when Aunt Monica asked with concern, "Would you like some more?" or a faint smile would flicker in his eyes, amused by Uncle Wendell's jokes.
The clinking of dishes, the gentle conversations, and the aroma of food created a real and warm picture of "home," gradually filling a long-standing void in his life.
After dinner, Hermione eagerly pulled Lynn to the living room sofa.
On the coffee table lay her thick book, "Advanced Algebra Explained," next to a plate of sliced orange cake, emitting a fresh fruity aroma.
"Our agreed-upon strategic energy reserve!" She picked up a piece of cake and put it in Lynn's hand, then sat cross-legged on the carpet, opened her book, "Last time we talked about how the application model of calculus inspired the stability of magical circuits, I think this idea is particularly brilliant!
Look here…" She immediately got into the zone, her fingertips tracing the complex formulas on the page, explaining rapidly, her eyes focused and bright.
Lynn leaned back against the soft sofa cushion, the warm cake in his hand emitting a sweet aroma.
He didn't eat it immediately, just quietly watched the girl on the carpet next to him, immersed in her own world.
Her fluffy brown curly hair swayed slightly with her explanations, the warm yellow light from the floor lamp danced on her serious profile, and her long eyelashes cast small, fan-like shadows beneath her eyes.
When she was deeply engrossed in explaining, she would unconsciously shake her head, and a few strands of hair would fall, brushing her fair forehead.
That lingering, sweet scent of her orange cake, mixed with the fresh smell of sun-drenched grass, wafted subtly around his nostrils.
The star stone under his clothes emitted an extremely faint yet steady warmth, as if also soothed by this peaceful and serene atmosphere.
The heavy weakness from the depletion of his Potion still existed, and the wound on his chest was still throbbing, but an unprecedented sense of peace, like warm water, slowly permeated his taut nerves and frozen anxiety.
"So, the rate of change of this function can actually be likened to the collapse threshold of a Potion node when overloaded… Lynn?" Hermione finally looked up from the formulas, only to find that Lynn wasn't looking at the book, but was quietly looking at her, his eyes… soft?
Like a calm deep pool under moonlight.
"Hmm?" Lynn responded, his voice low, not moving his gaze.
Hermione's heart inexplicably skipped a beat, and her cheeks started to feel hot again.
She quickly picked up a piece of cake and bit into it to cover her embarrassment, asking vaguely: "Did you… did you understand?
Did I explain too fast?"
"No," Lynn's gaze finally returned to the spot on the page her finger was pointing to, and he picked up his own untouched cake, taking a small bite.
The sweet orange fruitiness and soft cake melted on his tongue, carrying the taste of sunshine.
"You explained it very well," he added, his tone calm, like stating a fact.
A simple "very well" instantly made Hermione's heart blossom, sweeter than eating ten orange cakes.
She tried hard to suppress the corners of her mouth that wanted to curl up, and refocused her attention on the book, only her voice, in her explanation, unconsciously carried a hint of light cheerfulness.
Outside the window, the night grew deeper, and the apple tree in the garden rustled in the evening breeze.
In the living room, there were only the sounds of turning pages, Hermione's soft and earnest explanations, and the subtle sounds when the two occasionally shared a piece of orange cake.
Wendell and Aunt Monica quietly tidied the dishes in the kitchen, occasionally glancing over, looking at the thin boy quietly reading on the sofa and their spirited daughter on the carpet, exchanging a knowing, warm smile.
When Hermione closed her book, declaring the end of tonight's "academic seminar," the moon-white stone pendant on Lynn's chest (Aunt Monica had carefully helped him put on a stronger silver chain) transmitted a clear and warm throb through his thin pajamas.
He looked down at it, then at Hermione, who was yawning and stretching.
The faint dark circles under her eyes were more noticeable in the lamplight, a sign of the fatigue accumulated during her time in the hospital and on the journey.
"Hermione," Lynn's voice sounded in the quiet living room.
"Hmm?" Hermione rubbed her eyes and looked at him.
"Thank you," he looked into her eyes, clearly uttering two words.
Not just for tonight's explanation, for this room, for that cake, but even more so for this unreserved acceptance and protection that pulled him from cold solitude into warm humanity.
Hermione froze.
The warm yellow light fell into her brown eyes, like a sprinkle of tiny stars.
She looked at the rare, genuine gentleness on Lynn's calm face, looked at the moon-white stone on his chest resonating with her own, and a tremendous sense of satisfaction and an ineffable sweetness instantly overwhelmed all fatigue.
She pursed her lips, her cheeks flushed, and finally just curved her eyes, revealing a smile sweeter than orange cake.
"You idiot," she murmured softly, her voice as light as a feather, "Go to sleep, tomorrow… tomorrow we'll continue with Fourier transforms!" With that, she scurried upstairs like a startled bunny, clutching her books.
Lynn sat alone on the living room sofa, his fingertips unconsciously brushing the warm moon-white stone on his chest.
Outside the window, on the deep blue night sky, the real stars began to twinkle.
The memories of Chestnut House had not faded, the shackles of Potion were still heavy, and the shadow of Lord Voldemort was far from gone.
But at this moment, in this house filled with the sweet scent of orange cake, the aroma of book pages, and warm yellow light, accompanied by the steady breathing of the girl in the next room (he could almost imagine her sleeping face buried in her pillow), those coldness and heaviness seemed, for the first time, to be pierced by a more enduring, warmer light.
New roots were quietly taking hold in this soil called "home," drawing in the sunshine called "Hermione."
Chapter 37: Garden Morning Dew and the Aroma of Magic Potion
Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting dappled spots on the dark blue star and moon patterned bedspread. Lynn opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, the rustling of an apple tree outside the window, and the warm, sun-kissed scent of the bedding—all reminding him that this wasn't the cold dormitory of Chestnut House, nor the familiar four-poster bed at Hogwarts. This was Hermione's home.
Lynn quietly got out of bed, careful not to disturb Hermione, who might still be sleeping soundly next door. He pulled back the curtains, and the morning sun instantly streamed in, illuminating the entire room. Outside, the Granger Family's backyard was enveloped in a thin morning mist, with glistening dew drops on the apple tree leaves, sparkling in the sunlight. A robin perched on a branch, tilting its head to curiously observe the stranger inside the window.
He took a deep breath; the scabbed wound on his chest throbbed with a dull ache, but it was a little lighter than yesterday. The star stone glowed with a faint silver-blue light in the morning sun, a little brighter than it had been in the hospital. Lynn gently held it, feeling its steady, warm pulse—a resonance from Hermione's moon-white stone in the next room.
Faint sounds and the aroma of coffee drifted up from downstairs. Lynn changed into the light gray T-shirt and dark casual trousers Aunt Monica had prepared for him (much softer and more comfortable than the old clothes uniformly issued at the orphanage), and quietly went downstairs.
In the kitchen, Aunt Monica was preparing breakfast, the scent of toast filling the entire space. She saw Lynn, and her eyes lit up: "Good morning, dear! Did you sleep well? Coffee or tea?"
"Good morning, Aunt Monica. Tea, please." Lynn's voice was still deep, but it lacked its usual aloofness. He stood at the kitchen doorway, unsure how he could help.
Aunt Monica seemed to read his thoughts and smiled, handing him a basket: "Could you help me pick some fresh mint from the garden? It's in the small flowerbed next to the back door. Hermione loves my mint honey tea."
Lynn nodded, took the basket, and walked towards the backyard. The morning air, cool and fresh with dew and grass, brushed against his cheeks. He knelt by the flowerbed, carefully selecting the tenderest mint leaves. His fingertips touched the icy dew on the leaves, and a strange sense of calm spread from his fingertips to his heart.
"You're up early." A familiar voice came from behind him.
Lynn turned to see Hermione in a pale yellow nightgown, barefoot on the dewy grass, her fluffy curls glowing golden in the morning light. She rubbed her eyes, her cheeks still bearing the red marks from her pillow, looking incredibly soft.
"You too." Lynn stood up, handing her the basket full of mint.
Hermione took the basket, her fingertips brushing his hand inadvertently, the touch like a feather. She looked down at the neatly arranged mint leaves in the basket, a slight smile playing on her lips: "You picked all the tenderest shoots, how thoughtful."
The two walked back into the house side by side, the sun stretching their shadows long, merging on the grass. Aunt Monica watched the children enter the kitchen together, a gentle smile flashing in her eyes.
At the breakfast table, Uncle Wendell was reading the day's The Times, looking up to wink at them: "Any plans today, you two brainiacs? You're not going to bury yourselves in calculus all day again, are you?"
Hermione poured Lynn a cup of mint tea with two spoons of honey, and said with feigned seriousness: "Today's topic is an analogical study of the foundations of quantum mechanics and the configuration of magic spells." Seeing her father's exaggerated look of horror, she couldn't help but laugh, "Just kidding! The weather is so nice today, I plan to take Lynn to the nearby park. He needs moderate exercise to aid his recovery, Madam Pomfrey said so."
Lynn sipped the sweet mint tea, listening to the Hermione family's relaxed conversation, a strange warmth rising in his chest. This feeling of being included in daily life, of having his plans considered, was entirely new to him.
After breakfast, Hermione pulled Lynn upstairs, mysteriously closing the bedroom door. She took out an exquisite tin box from her desk drawer: "For you! I stayed up late last night preparing it."
Lynn opened the box, revealing more than twenty small glass test tubes neatly arranged inside, each labeled and containing powders or liquids of different colors.
"magic Nourishment Auxiliary Potions!" Hermione explained excitedly, her eyes sparkling, "I consulted all the information I could find on Starlight Magic, and adapted it using Muggle herbal principles. This blue bottle is evening primrose essence, which can soothe magic circuit spasms; the green one is ginkgo extract, to promote magic circulation; the red one is..."
Lynn listened quietly to her detailed explanation, his gaze shifting from the test tubes to her radiant face. Morning light filtered through a gap in the curtains, casting a thin golden line across her nose, and her eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows beneath her eyes. When she got excited, she would unconsciously twirl a strand of hair with her finger, and her cheeks would flush a faint pink.
"I know they're not as good as real Potions," Hermione's voice suddenly lowered, her fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the tin box, "You can't use magic now, and I'm not Professor Snape... But these are at least safe, and..."
"Thank you." Lynn interrupted her, his voice very soft but exceptionally clear. He picked up a test tube containing a pale blue liquid, labeled with Hermione's neat handwriting: 'Starlight Herb Extract · Calming.' In the sunlight, the liquid refracted tiny silver glints, just like the star stone on his chest. "I will take them on time."
Hermione's eyes instantly lit up, like kindled stars. She bit her lower lip, then suddenly stepped forward and gave Lynn a brief, cautious hug, so quick it was as if she feared rejection. "It will definitely work!" She released him, her cheeks flushed, and quickly turned to grab her coat, "I'm going to change, we'll leave for the park in ten minutes!"
Lynn stood still, still holding the test tube, a strange warmth emanating from the spot on his chest where he had been hugged, more vivid than the warmth of the star stone. He looked down at the swirling blue liquid in the test tube, vaguely feeling that its color was very similar to the luster of Hermione's pale yellow nightgown reflected in the sunlight.
The park was only two blocks from the Granger Family, shaded by green trees, with a small lake in the center. On Sunday mornings, many families picnicked and strolled there. The laughter of children chasing and playing echoed in the air.
Hermione led Lynn slowly along the lakeside path, occasionally pointing out plants and explaining their medicinal value. Lynn listened quietly, occasionally nodding or responding briefly. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows on them.
"Look over there!" Hermione suddenly whispered, pointing to a large willow tree by the lake. A young man was pretending to read a newspaper, but was actually secretly using his wand to make a pen write in a notebook. "The Ministry of Magic's Trace only monitors underage Wizard magic fluctuations; adults can cast spells freely in the Muggle world, it's so unfair." She pouted.
Lynn's gaze, however, fell on the woman and two children next to the man. The woman was smiling as she combed a little girl's hair, while the boy was squatting by the lake, throwing breadcrumbs to feed the ducks. That natural intimacy stirred a strange pang of bitterness in his chest.
Hermione keenly sensed his change in mood. She hesitated, then gently touched his arm: "Shall we go feed the swans? They sell breadcrumbs over there."
The swans on the lake glided gracefully, their white feathers shimmering in the sunlight. Hermionedivided the breadcrumbs with Lynn, demonstrating how to scatter them. "Gently, like this—"
The breadcrumbs fell on the water, creating ripples. The largest swan swam over elegantly, lowering its head to peck at them. Lynn imitated Hermione, throwing breadcrumbs onto the water. His movements were a bit stiff, but the swan still accepted his offering, even allowing him to stroke its curved neck.
"It likes you!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes curving into crescent moons, "Swans are usually very proud, unless they sense a particularly pure magic fluctuation... Ah!" She suddenly realized she had said the wrong thing and bit her lip in annoyance.
But Lynn just shook his head, continuing to stroke the swan's smooth feathers. In the sunlight, the lines of his profile had softened considerably, and a barely perceptible curve even touched his lips. "It's okay," he said, "The magic will come back."
This sentence was like a promise, and also like self-comfort. Hermione gazed at his profile, suddenly feeling a warmth in her eyes. She quietly moved a step closer, her shoulder gently touching his arm, and together they watched the swan peck at the breadcrumbs on the water. The sunlight, the lake, the reflection of the swan, and the steady breathing of the person beside him, formed a tranquil scene.
On the way home, Hermione stopped in front of a bakery at the street corner. "Wait for me!" She hurried into the shop, and a few minutes later emerged with a paper bag, smiling mysteriously: "Guess what it is?"
A rich chocolate aroma wafted from the paper bag. Lynn raised an eyebrow: "Chocolate croissants?"
"Not just ordinary croissants!" Hermione excitedly opened the paper bag, revealing golden, crispy pastries inside, "This is a branch of London's best magic bakery! The owner is a retired House-elf from Hogwarts, and the bread has a tiny bit of cheer-up charm in it—the completely legal kind! Eating it makes you feel good!"
She broke off a small piece of the still-warm croissant and held it to Lynn's mouth: "Try it?"
Lynn hesitated for a second, then lowered his head and took the bread from her fingertips. The crispy crust, soft interior, rich chocolate, and a faint, subtle magic fluctuation blooming on his tongue indeed sent a warm current spreading from his stomach throughout his body.
"Is it good?" Hermione looked at him expectantly, bread crumbs still clinging to her fingertips.
Lynn nodded, reaching out to gently brush away a tiny bit of chocolate that had accidentally gotten on her lips. "Mmm. Very sweet."
This natural gesture made both of them freeze. Hermione's face instantly turned as red as the candied cherries on her favorite orange cake, and a suspicious pink also tinged Lynn's ear tips. They tacitly turned and continued walking at the same time, but the distance between their shoulders was a little closer than before.
The afternoon sun cast their shadows on the flagstone path, one tall and one short, yet strangely harmonious. Hermione secretly glanced at the boy beside her, finding him looking up at the clear blue sky, a barely perceptible soft curve at the corner of his mouth. Her heart felt like chocolate melting in that ray of sunshine, utterly soft.
Back home, Aunt Monica was in the kitchen preparing lunch. Hermione pulled Lynn to the apple tree in the backyard and spread out a picnic blanket. "Let's eat here! Picnics under the trees are the best in summer!"
A cool breeze rustled under the tree, and dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves onto the blanket. Hermione neatly arranged sandwiches, fruit, and the bag of magic croissants, then, as if by magic, pulled two small bottles from her pocket: "Look! My improved magic Nourishment Potion No. 1! It includes today's inspiration—moonlight grass from the swan lake!"
Lynn took the small bottle, where a pale purple liquid swirled, sparkling with tiny glints in the sunlight. He uncorked it, and a fresh aroma wafted out, like a mixture of rain-soaked grass and some floral scent.
"Cheers?" Hermione raised her bottle, her eyes bright.
Lynn gently clinked his bottle against hers, then tilted his head back and drank it all. The liquid slid down his throat, bringing a cool, comfortable sensation, then transformed into a warm trickle, slowly flowing through his limbs. The dull ache of the scar on his chest seemed to lessen a little, and the star stone also warmed slightly.
"How is it?" Hermione anxiously watched his expression.
"Effective." Lynn's assessment was brief, but the certainty in his eyes made Hermione overjoyed.
She happily bit into a sandwich, saying indistinctly: "I knew it! Moonlight grass resonates with Starlight Magic! Tomorrow we'll try formula number two, I added a tiny bit of Unicorn hair—don't worry, it's legally purchased from Gringotts!"
Lynn watched her excitedly gesticulating, a smile unconsciously curving his lips. Sunlight danced through the gaps in the leaves in her hair, like scattered gold dust. He suddenly reached out and gently plucked an apple tree leaf that had fallen on her hair.
Hermione froze, looking up at his backlit silhouette. The sunlight edged him in gold, and his eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows beneath his eyes. He looked down at her, his gaze softer than it had ever been. At this moment, time seemed to stand still, with only the rustling of leaves and their intertwined breaths.
"Children! Fruit salad is ready!" Aunt Monica's voice came from the kitchen window, breaking the spell of the moment.
Hermione, as if waking from a dream, scrambled to her feet: "C-coming!" She reached out and pulled Lynn up, their fingertips touching, then quickly separating, as if burned. But that tiny electric current lingered long in the memory of their skin.
The afternoon sun was still warm, and the apple tree's shadow quietly shifted, covering the two figures sitting side by side on the picnic blanket. The robin on the tree tilted its head, curiously watching the human boy below quietly place his hand over the girl's, while the girl, blushing, did not pull her hand away. The wind blew, and the leaves rustled, as if singing a soft lullaby for this tranquil summer afternoon.
Chapter 38 The Shadow of the Owl and the Starlight of the Orange Cake
The apple tree's shadow moved quietly across the picnic blanket, covering the two figures sitting side-by-side. Lynn's palm rested on Hermione's cool hand, his fingertips conveying the warmth of the sun. Hermione didn't pull her hand away; instead, a blush spread from her cheeks to her earlobes, like ripe strawberries. The leaves rustled, as if murmuring a gentle prelude to the tranquil afternoon.
Aunt Monica appeared at the kitchen door with a fruit salad, her smile faltering slightly when she saw the two nestled under the tree, then deepening into a wider grin. "Fruit's here! If I don't hurry, the birds will be drawn in by my singing!" she teased, walking closer and breaking the thin, cicada-wing-like layer of ambiguity.
Hermione snatched her hand back as if burned, her cheeks so red they looked ready to drip blood. She fumbled to take the fruit bowl: "Thank you, Mom!" Lynn also naturally withdrew his hand; the soft touch lingering on his fingertips felt like a tiny electric current, spreading all the way to his heart. He silently accepted the fork Hermione offered, spearing a piece of cantaloupe glistening with syrup. The sweet juice melted on his tongue, diluting the momentary flutter and the ensuing hint of awkwardness.
The afternoon hours flowed slowly under the shade of the tree. Hermione tried to refocus her attention on her "Magic Nourishment Plan," excitedly discussing the potential synergistic effects of adding Unicorn hair (minute, legal amounts) to the Potion. Lynn listened quietly, occasionally nodding, but his gaze always unconsciously fell on her slightly flushed cheeks, red from excitement, and her curly hair that gently swayed as she explained. Sunlight streamed through the leaves, dancing in her hair like shattered gold.
It wasn't until the setting sun painted the sky orange-pink and the tree shadows stretched long that they gathered their things and returned inside. The enticing aroma of stew drifted from the kitchen, and Uncle Wendell sat on the sofa watching the evening news.
The dinner atmosphere remained warm and harmonious. Lynn even proactively took a second helping of Aunt Monica's beef stew. After the meal, he offered to help with the dishes, his movements a bit clumsy but exceptionally earnest. Hermione stood beside him, wiping plates, and their occasional light brushes of arms filled the air with a subtle, unspoken current.
"Lynn, could you help me put this in the attic storage room? It's right above your room," Uncle Wendellhanded him a cardboard box filled with old photo albums.
"Okay," Lynn took the box.
The narrow stairs to the attic were at the end of the hallway. Lynn carried the box and ascended the creaking wooden steps. The attic was dimly lit, piled high with dusty old furniture, suitcases, and some holiday decorations. He found the spot Uncle Wendell mentioned and carefully placed the box. Just as he was about to leave, an inconspicuous old wooden box in the corner caught his attention. Its lid was half-open, revealing some yellowed papers and... a book with a dark purple hardcover, bearing a raven with a scroll emblem on the bottom right corner.
Professor Snape's private Potion notes?!
Lynn's heart gave a sudden leap. How did it end up here? Was it overlooked when Dumbledore had Quirrell's office cleaned after that incident? Or... did someone deliberately place it here?
He held his breath and gently pulled out the book. The familiar, crisp scent of Potion ingredients mixed with the smell of old paper wafted towards him. He quickly flipped through the pages, his sharp gaze scanning the dense notes. Soon, he found several key pages marked by Quirrell with a trembling pencil—passages about suppressing parasitic entities, Devil's Snare, and Fluffy's weaknesses. But beyond that, on the last few pages of the book, Professor Snape had recorded some entirely different content in a more hurried, more secretive handwriting:
> *... Starlight Magic, originating from bloodline, connecting the cosmos. Its Star Essence damage is not curable by external medicine; it requires inducing Starlight resonance, supplemented by pure intentional guidance, to reshape the circuit...*
> *... moon-white stone, a symbiotic marvel, resonating with star stone, may serve as a medium to induce Starlight...*
> *... Forcing its activation will inevitably lead to backlash, like draining a pond to catch fish...*
Lynn's pupils suddenly constricted! Professor Snape had actually researched Starlight Magic! And his conclusions aligned perfectly with what Dumbledore had said and what Hermione was doing! He even mentioned the possibility of moon-white stone as a medium!
The value of this book far exceeded imagination! Not only could it partially validate Hermione's Potiondirection, but it might also hold the key to accelerating recovery! Lynn's heart pounded. He quickly tucked the book into the bottom of his loose T-shirt, closed the wooden box, and walked down the stairs as if nothing had happened.
Back in his room, Lynn locked the door, sat down at his desk, and began to study the book carefully under the light of the desk lamp. Professor Snape's notes were profound and obscure, filled with bold conjectures about the essence of Starlight Magic and dangerous experimental deductions. Some of the extreme methods for "inducing Starlight resonance" made Lynn frown deeply. But the core idea was clear: the self-healing of the Star Essence required a combination of internal and external factors. Pure intent (protection? longing?) and the resonance of moon-white stone were crucial catalysts; external forces could only assist in nourishment and must never forcefully interfere.
As he was engrossed in it, a soft knock came from the door: "Lynn? Are you asleep?"
It was Hermione. Lynn quickly closed the book, shoved it into the bottom drawer of his desk, and got up to open the door.
Hermione stood at the door, hugging her pillow, wearing cat-print pajamas, with a hint of hesitation and worry on her face: "I... I can't really sleep. I heard you go upstairs just now... Are you alright?" Her gaze unconsciously swept over Lynn's slightly solemn expression.
"I'm fine," Lynn stepped aside to let her in, "Just reading something."
Hermione entered the room and naturally sat cross-legged on his dark blue star and moon bedspread, hugging her pillow. "Is it about magic recovery?" she asked softly, her eyes full of concern, "Was I... too eager this afternoon? The Unicorn hair idea might be a bit risky..."
Lynn sat beside her, the mattress sinking slightly. "Your direction is correct," he said calmly, relaying the core conclusions from Professor Snape's notes about moon-white stone resonance and intentional guidance in the most concise language. "Professor Snape's notes mentioned similar points. External nourishment is fundamental; the core lies in the Star Essence's self-healing and... intentional guidance." He omitted the source of the notes and the dangerous methods mentioned.
Hermione's eyes instantly lit up, like stars ignited in the night sky: "Really? Professor Snape said that too?!" A surge of immense joy washed away her previous apprehension. "Then my Potion idea isn't wrong! It just needs to be gentler, more focused on guidance..." She excitedly grabbed Lynn's arm. "Intentional guidance! The will to protect... or a strong desire? Just as Headmaster Dumbledore hinted?" Her brown eyes sparkled with pure light under the lamp, full of investigative passion.
Lynn looked at her flushed cheeks, so close to him and red with excitement, feeling the warmth from her fingertips and her unreserved concern and trust. A strong impulse surged within him; he wanted to tell her the book was in the drawer, wanted to study those profound theories with her. But reason immediately suppressed the thought. The source of Professor Snape's notes couldn't be explained, and the dangerous deductions involved couldn't be revealed to her.
He could only nod, avoiding her overly bright, inquisitive gaze: "Mm. It will take time."
"It's okay!" Hermione said immediately, her tone exceptionally firm. "We have plenty of time! I'll be with you! Starting tomorrow, we'll adjust the Potion formula, remove the Unicorn hair, and add more ingredients to stabilize the mind, like lavender and chamomile! As for intentional guidance..." She bit her lower lip, thinking, "Maybe we can try meditation? Or... hmm... think about particularly happy things?"
"Like what?" Lynn's voice held a subtle hint of guidance.
"Like..." Hermione's cheeks reddened again, her voice softening, "Like... orange cake?" She quickly looked up at Lynn, then looked down again, unconsciously twisting the corner of her pillow. "Or... or the swans in the park? Or... the sunlight under the apple tree?" Her voice grew softer and softer, each "like" like a small pebble dropped into Lynn's quiet heart, spreading warm ripples.
Lynn said nothing, just watched her quietly. The warm yellow lamplight outlined her soft silhouette, her fluffy curly hair falling on her shoulders, and a small section of her fair neck visible above her pajama collar. The air was filled with her faint, fresh scent, like sun-drenched grass. An unprecedented sense of peace and contentment, like a warm tide, slowly enveloped him.
"Mm," he finally murmured after a long time. That "mm" contained so much—acknowledgment of her suggestion, appreciation for her companionship, and a hint of deep tenderness he hadn't even noticed himself.
Hermione quietly breathed a sigh of relief at his response, her lips curving into an involuntary smile. Hugging her pillow, she relaxed against the headboard, and sleepiness seemed to wash over her in this comforting atmosphere. She let out a tiny yawn, her eyelids beginning to droop.
"You should go back to sleep," Lynn reminded her.
"Just a little longer..." Hermione's voice was thick with sleep, like a cooing kitten. "Just a little... until you've had your bedtime Potion today..." She struggled to stay awake, pointing to the blue test tube labeled 'Calming' on the desk.
Lynn picked up the test tube, pulled out the cork, and drank it all. The cool, slightly sweet liquid slid down his throat, bringing a soothing sense of relaxation. He put down the test tube, turned his head, and found Hermione already asleep, hugging her pillow and leaning against his headboard, her breathing even and deep.
Under the warm yellow light, her sleeping face was unguarded, long eyelashes casting deep shadows beneath her eyes, her cheeks still faintly flushed, and her lips slightly upturned, as if she were having a sweet dream. A few strands of brown curly hair playfully clung to her smooth forehead.
Lynn's heart skipped a beat. He didn't wake her, but gently got up, carefully pulling his blanket over her. His fingertips brushed against the strands of her hair scattered on the pillow, soft as the finest silk. He gazed at her sleeping face, his chest filled with an unprecedented, overflowing warmth. The star stonebeneath his pajamas pulsed with a distinct, warm throb, as if also moved by this tranquil warmth.
He turned off the bright desk lamp, leaving only a very faint nightlight by the bed. Then, he pulled the chair from his desk, sat by the bed, and picked up "Advanced Algebra Explained" that Hermione had left open on the table that afternoon, quietly reading by the dim light.
The only sounds in the room were the occasional soft rustle of turning pages and their intertwined, steady breaths. Outside the window, a brilliant full moon rose to its zenith, its silver radiance filtering through the sheer curtains, casting hazy light spots on the floor. The moon-white stone on Hermione's neck and the star stone on Lynn's chest, in the tranquil night, separated by mere inches, emitted a synchronized and warm glow, pulsating like breaths.
The night was deep and peaceful. Until—
Thump, thump, thump!
A sudden, urgent, and loud knocking shattered the tranquility! The sound came from Lynn's window!
Lynn instantly became alert, put down his book, and silently rose to the window. Hermione was also startled awake by the sound, groggily rubbing her eyes and sitting up: "...What was that sound?"
Lynn pulled back a corner of the curtain. Outside the window, a sturdy barn owl with sharp eyes was urgently tapping the glass with its beak, firmly grasping a thick, dark purple envelope with the Ministry of Magic's official emblem! The envelope was addressed in elegant, cold script:
> * * For Mr. Lynn Evans * *
> * * (Address: London, Residence of Wendell and Monica Granger) * *
> * * (Delivered by Ministry of Magic Owl Special Express) * *
Ministry of Magic! It finally came!
Lynn's eyes instantly sharpened like blades, and a layer of frost settled on his calm face. The star stonein his chest seemed to sense the fluctuation of his emotions, suddenly emitting a cold, stinging sensation, full of warning.
He took a deep breath, and under Hermione's bewildered gaze, he abruptly pushed open the window.
Chapter 39: The Barrier of Purple Envelope and Orange Cake
Lynn pushed open the window abruptly, and the cool night air, laden with moisture, poured into the room. The sturdy barn owl immediately dropped the deep purple envelope precisely at his feet, letting out a short, urgent hoot, then flapped its wings and vanished into the deep night, as if lingering for another second would cause it to be seized by some invisible terror.
Hermione was now wide awake, all sleep gone. She jumped out of bed, her bare feet landing on the cool floor, and rushed to Lynn's side, her gaze fixed on the letter on the ground, as if it were a hot potato. "The Ministry of Magic..." Her voice held a barely perceptible tremor, and her brown eyes were filled with surprise and worry. "What do they want?"
Lynn bent down and picked up the envelope. It felt heavy in his hand, with the cool, resilient texture unique to magical parchment. The seal was a complex, constantly twisting magical wax seal, emitting faint magic fluctuations. His usual calm expression was replaced by a layer of frost, his eyes sharp as blades, as he scanned the ornate yet chilling recipient address on the envelope—precise down to the Granger Family's house number. The Ministry of Magic not only knew he was here but was also openly displaying their 'attention'.
"Look at the contents," Hermione's voice was tight, and she instinctively moved closer to Lynn, as if this would draw some strength for resistance.
Lynn's fingertip infused with an extremely faint (his only remaining) trace of Star Power, easily breaking through the wax seal—the Ministry of Magic's seal seemed ineffective against Star Power. He pulled out the thick parchment letter inside and unfolded it. Hermione immediately leaned in, their heads almost touching, reading by the faint light of the bedside lamp.
The letterhead bore the prominent Ministry of Magic emblem. The main text was written in an extremely official, cold, and unyielding tone:
> **Mr. Lynn Evans:**
>
> **You are hereby summoned to attend a formal inquiry and record-taking session concerning your role in the 'Philosopher's Stone Protection Incident' at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the end of the 1991-1992 academic year, the source of the special powers you displayed, and the detailed circumstances of your encounter with the remnant soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle (alias 'Lord Voldemort'). This session is scheduled for 10:00 AM on July 15, 1992, at Hearing Room No. 7, Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, London.**
>
> **This inquiry is personally authorized by the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and will be presided over by Ms. Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.**
>
> **You may bring a guardian or an adult Wizard to accompany you.**
>
> **Please ensure your timely attendance. Absence will be deemed contempt of Ministry of Magicauthority and may lead to subsequent mandatory summons and corresponding legal consequences.**
>
> **Department of Magical Law Enforcement**
> **Department of Mysteries (Jointly Issued)**
> **July 10, 1992**
The air seemed to freeze. The cold words were like steel needles, piercing the cozy barrier of the Granger Family, casting the stark shadow of cold reality. Inquiry, source of special powers, Lord Voldemort's remnant soul... every word carried heavy weight and dangerous implications. Personally authorized by Fudge, presided over by Bones! This was no ordinary questioning, but more like the prelude to a trial!
"They... how can they do this?!" Hermione's voice rose with anger, trembling with disbelief. "You were injured protecting the Philosopher's Stone! You almost died! Instead of investigating Lord Voldemort, they want to question you?!"
Lynn remained silent, his knuckles white from gripping the letter tightly. The star stone in his chest continuously sent a cold, sharp pain, reminding him of his depleted power and his current helplessness. The Ministry of Magic's attention was faster, more direct, and more... ill-intentioned than he had anticipated. Fudge's cowardice and his fear of Lord Voldemort's potential return had clearly twisted into an excessive vigilance against 'anomalies'.
"A guardian or an adult Wizard..." Hermione's mind raced, seizing on a key point. "Mum and Dad are Muggles! They can't go! Principal Dumbledore! We can find Principal Dumbledore! He can definitely help you!" A spark of hope ignited in her eyes.
But Lynn slowly shook his head, his voice low and calm: "Dumbledore... is the Principal of Hogwarts, and also a party involved in the incident. The Ministry of Magic's move may well be a probe and an attempt to divide." He folded the letter, putting it back into the envelope, his movements showing a suppressed restraint. "And, Fudge may not trust him now."
The spark of hope was instantly extinguished. Hermione's heart sank, overwhelmed by a huge sense of powerlessness and anger. She looked at Lynn's pale, calm profile, at the faint outline of bandages beneath his school robes, and a strong protective urge mixed with heartache instantly overcame her reason.
"I'll go with you!" She suddenly stood tall, her voice resolute and unyielding, filled with an unquestionable determination. "I'm an adult Wizard! I can attend as your... your supporter! They won't get away with bullying you!" (For subsequent plot, Hermione's age is set as adult.)
Lynn looked up at her. The girl stood in the dim light, her figure slender, wearing only a cardigan haphazardly over her nightgown, barefoot, her hair still a bit messy, but her brown eyes burned with a fierce flame, bright, firm, and fearless. That courage to defy the entire Ministry of Magic's authority for him, like a strong light, instantly pierced the gloom that enveloped his heart. A strange, burning emotion surged in his quiet heart, almost bursting through his throat.
"Hermione..." His voice was a little hoarse.
"It's settled then!" Hermione didn't allow him to object, her tone unusually firm. "Tomorrow I'll write to Harry and Ron, and let them think of something too! Or find Mr. Weasley! He works at the Ministry of Magic!" She began pacing anxiously around the room, like an enraged young lioness, considering all possible countermeasures. "And that notebook! Professor Snape's notebook! It must contain records about Starlight Magic, maybe it can serve as proof of your power source? Or..."
"The notebook cannot be exposed," Lynn immediately interrupted her, his tone decisive. "Its origin cannot be explained, Snape's attitude is unclear, and its contents..." He thought of those dangerous deductions. "...are too sensitive."
Hermione's footsteps halted. Looking at his grave expression, she understood the seriousness of the matter. "Then... then we'll argue our case!" She walked in front of Lynn, looking up at him, her eyes burning. "Tell them the truth! Tell them how Quirrell was controlled by Lord Voldemort, how you only used the Star Power to protect everyone! Tell them what price you paid for it!" Her voice choked slightly. "The Ministry of Magic must be reasonable!"
Reasonable? Lynn looked at the pure belief in justice in Hermione's eyes, a hint of bitterness welling up in his heart. The Ministry of Magic under Fudge had long been corroded by fear and bureaucracy. But he didn't expose it. At this moment, the flame burning in her eyes and her unreserved support were the only warmth he could grasp.
"Mm." He finally just gave a low affirmative sound. This sound contained too many complex emotions—an implicit agreement to her accompaniment, and an acceptance of her profound sentiment.
"Alright!" Hermione took a deep breath, as if making up her mind, forcing down her unease and anger. She bent down and picked up the pillow that had fallen to the floor, patted off the dust, then walked to the desk and picked up the empty calming potion vial. "Now, you need to rest!" Her tone returned to its usual organized manner, but with an undeniable assertiveness. "There are five days until the 15th! For these five days, your task is to rest well, drink my improved potion on time, and adjust your condition! Leave the rest to me!"
She pushed Lynn back to sit on the edge of the bed without question, her movements clumsy but gentle: "Lie down! Close your eyes! Don't think about anything!" She herself, hugging the pillow, sat back down on the chair by the bed, ready to stand guard.
Lynn looked at her small face, feigning composure, but with residual shock, anger, and worry in her eyes. The cold stinging sensation in his chest seemed to be suppressed by another, more surging emotion. He lay down as instructed, closing his eyes. In the darkness, his senses became sharper. He could hear Hermione's deliberately slowed breathing, feel her gaze, filled with protectiveness, on him, and the faint, fresh scent of her, like sun-dried grass, in the air.
After a long time, so long that Lynn thought she had fallen asleep, a very soft, slightly uncertain voice sounded in the darkness:
"Lynn... back at Chestnut House... did you always face... everything alone like this too?"
Chestnut House... cold fragments of memory instantly pierced his mind: empty corridors, indifferent faces, nights shared by no one, corners where wounds were licked alone... those deliberately forgotten feelings of loneliness, like a cold tide, tried to engulf him again.
Lynn's body tensed almost imperceptibly, and he didn't answer immediately.
Hermione seemed to sense his stiffness, and her voice became even softer, with careful probing and deep concern: "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have asked... I just... I just feel... from now on... you won't be alone anymore."
In the darkness, a slightly cool yet incredibly soft hand, with a hint of hesitation and immense courage, gently, tentatively covered the back of his hand resting outside the covers. Her fingertips trembled slightly, yet were remarkably firm.
That cold tide seemed to meet an indestructible dam, instantly stopping and receding. A huge warm current surged through their clasped hands, instantly overwhelming all the cold memories trying to resurface. The star stone in his chest pulsed with a clear and warm throb, stronger than ever before.
Lynn turned his hand, no longer a slight response, but with an almost stubborn strength, gripping the hand that had covered his. Palms pressed together, fingers intertwined. Her fingertips were still slightly cool, yet they strangely soothed his cold skin, transmitting a reassuring, continuous warmth.
He didn't speak, just held her hand tighter, as if it were the only anchor in a raging storm.
Hermione's body stiffened slightly from his sudden forceful grip, then completely relaxed. She didn't pull her hand away; instead, she adjusted her posture to sit more comfortably, enveloping his hand more securely in her cool yet firm palm.
In the darkness, only their intertwined and steady breathing remained, along with the silent warmth transmitted from where their palms were tightly connected. The moonlight outside the window quietly shifted, casting the shadow of their clasped hands onto the deep blue star and moon bedsheet, like some eternal covenant.
After an unknown amount of time, Hermione leaned against the back of the chair, her breathing becoming even and long. She was asleep, but her hand, holding Lynn's, never let go.
Lynn opened his eyes in the darkness. He didn't move, just quietly felt the real, warm touch in his palm, felt the subtle vibrations from the girl's steady breathing beside him. The star stone in his chest continuously emitted warmth, like a tiny ignited ember, dispelling the biting chill brought by the Ministry of Magic's letter.
The cold memories of Chestnut House, the Ministry of Magic's aggressiveness, Lord Voldemort's lingering presence... all of it was still there. But at this moment, in this darkness enveloped by moonlight and the girl's presence, in this unreserved protection in his palm, Lynn felt clearly for the first time that some things had changed forever. He was no longer alone. He had something to protect, and someone who protected him. This profound connection, like the sweet scent of orange cake, seeped into the crevices of his soul, and beneath the cold Star Power, resilient roots quietly began to grow.