Chapter 44: The Glimmer of Light on the Train and the Whisper of the Sorting Hat (Part 1)
Ginny's frantic footsteps faded down the corridor, and the brief warmth in the compartment was replaced by an invisible tension.
Ron was still muttering about his sister's strange behavior, while Harry looked worriedly at the closed door.
Hermione's hand moved slightly in Lynn's palm, her fingertips conveying a silent question.
"It's nothing," Lynn whispered back, his thumb gently caressing the back of her hand reassuringly, his gaze thoughtfully sweeping over Ron's old trunk, which revealed a corner of a black diary.
That thing was like a cold, dark hole, and even through the leather trunk, the star stone in his chest continuously sent cold, sluggish warnings.
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to dispel the unease in her heart, and pulled her attention back to reality.
"Ron, your trunk isn't closed properly," she reminded him in as normal a tone as possible, while subtly using her body to block Ron's view of Lynn as she stood up to tidy her bag on the luggage rack.
"Oh! That damned rat Scabbers!" Ron fumbled to pull the zipper on his trunk, stuffing the restless rat cage further inside, complaining, "It's always trying to get out lately, like it's possessed!"
He slammed the trunk shut, finally completely covering the ominous black diary.
A cold glint flashed in Lynn's eyes.
Peter Pettigrew was, of course, terrified; Lord Voldemort's aura was resurfacing, and the diary, containing a fragment of his youthful soul, was now mere feet away.
Hermione sat back down and pushed the remaining orange cake further towards Lynn, with an undeniable implication: "Eat it all."
The blush on her cheeks hadn't completely faded; the sensation of Lynn's fingertips brushing her lips earlier still lingered.
Lynn obediently picked up his fork.
The sweet aroma of the cake melted on his tongue, temporarily suppressing the cold discomfort brought by the star stone.
He ate quietly, occasionally looking up to see Hermione intently reading a newly purchased 'Intermediate Transfiguration Theory,' but the tips of her ears were still a faint pink, and her long eyelashes cast a small shadow beneath her eyes, making her appear exceptionally quiet and well-behaved.
Sunlight streamed through the train window onto her fluffy curly hair, dancing with warm specks of light.
An indescribable sense of peace and contentment, like a warm stream, slowly flowed through Lynn's heart, and the star stone's pulsation also became peaceful and warm.
Just then, an abrupt, ear-splitting screech, like fingernails scraping metal, suddenly pierced through the compartment door!
"Screech—!!!"
Immediately followed by Ron's terrified scream and the clatter of a cage overturning!
"Scabbers! Come back!"
The cage door had somehow been knocked open, and Scabbers, the gray rat with the missing toe, shot out from under the door crack like a gray lightning bolt, with astonishing speed!
"Stop it!" Ron lunged for the door, fumbling to grab the doorknob.
Lynn's reaction was even faster!
He shot up almost the instant the noise sounded, his left hand flashing out like lightning, not to grab the rat, but to press precisely on the metal doorframe on the inside of the compartment door!
Buzz—!
An invisible wave of magic suddenly spread out from his palm!
It wasn't a powerful impact, but rather had a peculiar "stickiness" and "sluggishness" effect, as if instantly turning a small area of air at the compartment door into a semi-solid gel!
Scabbers, who had just darted to the edge of the door crack, suddenly stiffened!
It was as if it had fallen into an invisible quicksand, its four tiny legs paddling desperately, but only churning the air fruitlessly in place, its speed reduced by ninety percent!
Its terrified little eyes were filled with human-like horror.
"Immobulus!" Hermione's spell followed immediately!
A blue light accurately struck the almost motionless Scabbers, completely freezing it in place, maintaining its comical posture of furiously charging forward.
Harry also rushed over, picked up the immobilized rat, and stuffed it back into the still-terrified Ron's hands.
"Tha... thanks!" Ron gasped for breath, clutching the still-struggling rat tightly, still shaken.
"Oh my god, is it crazy? What was that sound just now? It scared me to death!"
"It sounded like... some kind of powerful magical creature emitting infrasound? Or... some kind of resonance?" Hermione frowned, looking warily out into the corridor.
The source of the noise seemed to have vanished, and only confused murmurs from other compartments could be heard in the corridor.
Lynn slowly withdrew his hand from the doorframe, a faint tremor of magic lingering on his fingertips.
He knew better than anyone the source of that noise—the low-frequency hiss of the Basilisk moving deep within Hogwarts' ancient pipes, imperceptible to ordinary people!
Scabbers (Peter Pettigrew), as Lord Voldemort's former servant, had an instinctive, deeply ingrained fear of this aura representing absolute terror and death!
The activation of the diary and the awakening of the Basilisk—the double stimulus had completely shattered the rat's nerves.
"It might be aging train pipes making noise, or... some kind of magical experiment gone wrong," Lynncalmly offered a vague explanation, sat back down, and took a sip of the pumpkin juice Hermione had poured for him earlier.
He needed to maintain outward calm, but his inner self was like an undercurrent beneath an icy lake—the Basilisk's activity was earlier and more frequent than he had anticipated.
Danger was accelerating its approach.
Hermione looked at his serene profile, then at his left hand, which he had just pressed against the doorframe.
She keenly noticed that what Lynn had just performed was not any of the binding spells she knew; it was a more direct application, closer to the source of magic itself.
child of the stars... she silently repeated the title in her heart, a mix of worry and deeper trust intertwined.
She asked nothing, simply pouring some of the hot chocolate from her thermos into Lynn's cup.
"Drink something warm, to calm your nerves," she said softly, her tone conveying undeniable concern.
Lynn looked at the rising steam from the dark brown liquid in the cup, then at his own reflection in Hermione's clear eyes, and a warm current dispelled the chill brought by the Basilisk's hiss.
He picked up the cup; the warm liquid slid down his throat, carrying the rich aroma peculiar to cocoa and a hint of sweetness unique to Hermione.
"Mm," he responded softly, his gaze meeting hers for a moment.
No more words were needed; worry and protection were all conveyed in this silent understanding.
***
Hogwarts' Great Hall always shone with the brilliant starlight created by magic.
Thousands of floating candles illuminated the vaulted ceiling as if it were daytime, and the four long tables were laden with glittering golden plates and goblets.
The air was filled with the smoky scent of roasted meat, the sweet richness of pumpkin pie, and the nervous excitement of the new students.
Lynn, Hermione, Harry, and Ron sat at the Gryffindor long table.
Hermione sat upright, her gaze fixed intently forward, her fingers unconsciously twisting the cuff of her robe.
Lynn could feel her taut nerves—the start of the new school year, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and... the shadows brought by Diagon Alley and Ginny.
"I heard this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor is Gilderoy Lockhart!" an excited older Gryffindor student discussed.
"Merlin, is it true? I've collected all his signed cards!" a girl next to her exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
Ron made a gagging motion, while Harry shrugged helplessly.
Hermione's lips were a thin line, her eyes complex, clearly torn between Lockhart's performance in Diagon Alley and Ron's "fraud" theory.
Lynn's gaze swept over the noisy crowd, landing precisely on the end seat of the faculty table.
A crimson and gold robe, meticulously styled wavy golden hair, and a signature, blinding smile—Gilderoy Lockhart.
He was waving to the surroundings with an exaggerated gesture, as if he were the center of the entire Great Hall.
There was no ripple in Lynn's eyes, only a cold scrutiny.
An empty-headed fraud, yet occupying this year's most crucial teaching position.
He shifted his gaze, sweeping over the other Professors: Professor McGonagall was as stern as ever, Professor Snape's gaze was as dark and cold as always, sweeping over Potter with undisguised distaste.
When Snape's gaze fell on Lynn, those deep black eyes seemed to pause for a moment, carrying a hint of inquiry and assessment.
Lynn met his gaze calmly, the star stone beneath his robes emitting a faint, wary coolness.
The insight of this Potion Master was not to be underestimated.
Finally, Lynn's gaze settled on the white-bearded old man at the head table.
Albus Dumbledore was looking kindly at the noisy students through his half-moon spectacles, and deep within his azure eyes, a light of all-knowing wisdom sparkled.
When his gaze briefly met Lynn's, Lynn felt a gentle yet profound resonance from the star stone in his chest, as if silently saluting the greatest Wizard of his time.
Dumbledore gave him a slight nod, a nearly imperceptible, meaningful curve playing on his lips.
The Sorting Ceremony began.
The tattered Sorting Hat was placed on a high stool by Professor McGonagall, and it twisted its cracked "mouth," beginning to sing:
"> "A thousand years of bricks and stones built this hall,
"> Four bloodlines flow within these walls.
"> Lion-hearted courage fears no storm,
"> Badger's loyalty keeps hearts warm.
"> Eagle soars in truth's bright light,
"> Serpent glides in shadows' night.
"> Wear me now, do not delay,
"> Listen to your heart's deep sway!
"> No matter where you've come from far,
"> Hogwarts will guide you, like a star,
"> Find your home, begin your glory's call!"
As the song ended, the new students nervously lined up to step forward.
When the name "Ginny Weasley" was called, the entire Great Hall fell silent for a moment.
The red-haired little girl was as pale as a ghost, walking forward with unsteady steps, her lips trembling slightly.
Hermione's hand suddenly gripped Lynn's wrist under the table, her fingertips icy cold.
"Lynn..." she whispered, her voice filled with worry.
Lynn turned his hand to hold hers, his dry, warm palm enveloping her cold one.
"Look," he whispered back, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's, fixed intently on Ginny.
The Hat barely touched Ginny's fiery red hair before it shrieked: "Gryffindor!"
Chapter 45: The Glimmer of Light on the Train and the Whisper of the Sorting Hat (Part 2)
The Gryffindor table erupted in enthusiastic applause and the loud whistles of the Weasley brothers.
Ginny, as if burned, quickly took off the Sorting Hat, stumbled towards the table, keeping her head down the entire time, not daring to look at anyone, and directly dove into the empty seat next to her brother Percy, burying her head low.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, but her brows were still tightly furrowed.
"She looks terrible," she whispered close to Lynn's ear, her warm breath brushing against his earlobe, "worse than she did in Diagon Alley.
That diary…"
"It's eroding her," Lynn's voice was low and firm, carrying a chilling coldness, "silently, like a maggot clinging to bone."
He watched Ginny's slender figure curled up beside Percy, as if he could see invisible black threads spreading from the diary in her arms, coiling around her soul.
A heavy sense of urgency to protect weighed on his heart.
The Sorting Ceremony continued, but Lynn and Hermione's thoughts were no longer on it.
The feast began, and the tables were instantly piled high with lavish food.
Hermione habitually placed a perfectly roasted lamb chop and several refreshing vegetable salads onto Lynn's plate.
"Eat more, you need to recover." Her tone held a touch of stubbornness, as if she were completing an important task.
Lynn looked at the perfectly piled food on his plate, then at Hermione's serious gaze, as if she wouldn't stop until he finished eating.
The string in his heart, taut because of the Basilisk and Ginny, was quietly soothed by this everyday concern.
He picked up his knife and fork and began to eat quietly, his movements refined but not slow.
Hermione then contentedly began to eat the food on her own plate, occasionally discussing with Lynnin low voices about a Professor's new term requirements or a course schedule she was interested in.
The two sat very close, their shoulders almost touching.
In the noisy dining environment around them, a quiet and tacit small space formed between them.
When Lynn casually handed Hermione a mint jelly she couldn't reach, she naturally took it, a shallow, sweet curve forming on her lips.
Harry and Ron, sitting opposite, exchanged an "I knew it" look and buried their heads in the chicken legs on their plates.
At the end of the feast, Dumbledore stood up to announce the new term's Precautions.
When he said, "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that no magic is to be used in the corridors between classes" and "Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week," the Great Hall was filled with the usual groans and cheers.
Then, he cleared his throat, a strange expression on his face, a mix of anticipation and helplessness: "Finally, I am delighted to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for the coming school year — Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!"
Lockhart immediately sprang up as if on a spring, flashing a brilliant smile, bowing gracefully in all directions, his crimson robes shimmering in the candlelight.
The applause was sparse, especially cold from the Gryffindor side, and Ron even let out a loud boo, earning him a stern glare from Percy.
Lockhart was not at all bothered; he straightened his back and began his speech in his magnetic voice (content avoids the original):
"My dear students! It is my immense honor to embark on a new magical journey with you here at Hogwarts — this hallowed hall that has nurtured countless legends!
Here, we shall explore the exquisite art of defensive magic together!
From how to elegantly dispose of troublesome Cornish Pixies," he winked towards the Gryffindor table, "to how to calmly face… well, some more challenging magical predicaments!
I shall impart all my personal experience to help you become Wizards as brilliant as the heroes in books!
Remember, a smile, confidence, and a perfect hairstyle can sometimes resolve a crisis better than a spell!" He smoothed his meticulously styled golden hair.
This exaggerated and empty speech caused many students (especially the older ones) to show expressions of disappointment or amusement.
Hermione's brow furrowed even more deeply; she looked at Lynn and whispered, "Can he… can he really teach us anything useful? To face the 'evil in the walls'?"
Lynn looked at the man on the teachers' table, who was like a peacock displaying its feathers, a faint, cold curve on his lips.
"Rely on him?" His voice was so soft that only Hermione could hear it, carrying a sense of knowing everything, "You might as well hope Peeves suddenly develops a love for studying."
The star stone transmitted a calm, warm sensation, as if confirming his judgment — this show-off was not worth mentioning.
The real danger and protection always concerned them themselves.
Hermione looked at Lynn's calm and resolute profile, and her doubts and anxieties miraculously subsided.
As long as he was by her side, no matter how unreliable Lockhart was, no matter how terrifying the evil in the walls, she felt she had the courage to face everything.
She quietly hooked her pinky finger with Lynn's under the table.
Lynn didn't move, letting the soft fingertip entwine with his; a silent warmth flowed between their clasped fingers, dispelling the gloom brought by Ginny in the corner of the Great Hall and the exaggerated foam created by Lockhart.
The Common Room fireplace crackled, dispelling the slight chill of the September night.
The red drapes and padded sofas exuded a warm, comfortable atmosphere.
The first-years were led to their dormitories by Prefect Percy; older students gathered in twos and threes, excitedly discussing their summer experiences and new term plans.
Hermione and Lynn occupied a relatively quiet two-seater sofa by the fireplace.
Hermione spread open her Potions textbook, her brow slightly furrowed, seemingly reviewing tomorrow's lesson with Snape, but her gaze occasionally drifted to Lynn, who was resting with his eyes closed beside her.
Lynn appeared to be resting, but in reality, he was sorting through his chaotic thoughts: the diary was in Ginny's hands, the Basilisk was already active, Lockhart, this ticking time bomb, was in place… Every step was like treading on thin ice.
The star stone radiated a steady warmth from his chest, like a lighthouse in the dark, reminding him of the responsibility he bore and the person he had to protect.
"Lynn," Hermione's voice interrupted his contemplation, with a hint of hesitation, "on the train… that magic you used, to slow Scabbers down… it wasn't 'Impedimenta,' was it?"
Lynn opened his eyes, meeting her gaze full of curiosity and concern.
He wasn't surprised by her perceptiveness.
"Mm," he responded, not denying it, but also not explaining in detail.
The child of the stars' abilities were too unique; exposing them too early would not be wise.
Hermione didn't press further; she just moved a little closer, her shoulder gently touching his arm, bringing a reassuring warmth.
"That diary… what should we do? Seeing Ginny… I…" Her voice held a mix of unbearable pain and anxiety.
"We can't be forceful," Lynn's voice was low and clear, "the diary has a deep mental connection with its holder; forcibly separating or destroying it could directly harm Ginny's soul."
He recalled how Harry destroyed the diary in the original story — with the Basilisk's poisonous fang.
"It requires a specific power that can destroy its essential vessel.
And it requires timing." He had to wait, wait for the Basilisk to appear, wait for the opportunity to obtain the poisonous fang.
This was passive, but for Ginny's safety, it was a necessary endurance.
Hermione's breath hitched slightly, clearly startled by the possibility of "harming the soul."
She instinctively grabbed Lynn's arm: "Then… what can we do? We can't just watch her be… by that thing…"
"Protect," Lynn said succinctly; he turned his head, looking at Hermione's brown eyes, which appeared exceptionally bright in the firelight, "pay attention to her abnormalities, protect her from physical harm, and most importantly," he paused, his tone becoming serious, "prevent her from being completely controlled by the diary to write… dangerous things when she's alone."
That was the key to triggering a series of attacks.
Hermione nodded vigorously, her eyes becoming incredibly determined: "I understand! I'll pay attention! In the Library, in the Common Room… I'll try my best to keep her from being alone."
She instantly found a goal for her actions.
Watching the renewed fighting spirit and sense of responsibility in her eyes, a softness welled up in Lynn's heart.
He raised his hand, hesitated for a moment, and finally gently brushed away a strand of hair by her cheek that had curled slightly from the fireplace's warmth.
His fingertip brushed her warm earlobe inadvertently.
Hermione's body visibly stiffened, and two crimson blushes instantly bloomed on her cheeks, more vivid than the flames in the fireplace.
She quickly lowered her head, pretending to focus intently on the textbook on her lap, but her slightly trembling eyelashes and accelerated heartbeat betrayed her fluster.
Lynn clearly felt a slightly hurried, warm throb from the star stone, like his own unsettled heartbeat at that moment.
A delicate silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace and the distant chatter of their classmates.
The air was filled with a sweet, heart-accelerating warmth.
Hermione's toes unconsciously drew circles on the carpet, and after a long while, she mumbled in an almost inaudible voice: "…That orange cake, Mom also made two for you and put them in my trunk; I'll give them to you for breakfast tomorrow."
"Mm," Lynn responded softly, looking at the girl's flushed ear tips; a warm current slowly rippled through his quiet heart, temporarily suppressing the cold heaviness brought by the shadow of the Chamber of Secrets.
He turned his gaze back to the dancing flames, silently clenching his fist.
The journey of protection had begun, the path ahead was fraught with thorns, but the warmth by his side was his never-extinguishing light source.
Within Hogwarts' ancient stone walls, a silent war quietly began, amidst the warm glow of the fireplace and the girl's shy blush.
Chapter 46: The Caged Bird and the Deviation of Star Tracks
Hogwarts's morning was swept by Lockhart's golden storm.
Every inch of the corridor walls was plastered with giant posters of him winking, and Filch, the caretaker, was angrily tearing down a poster that covered the instructions for the moving staircase.
"Forbidden! This is vandalism!" he shrieked, only to be interrupted by Lockhart's dazzling entrance.
"My dear Mr. Filch!" Lockhart flashed his signature smile, his gold-trimmed cloak swirling with his movement, "These posters are visual teaching aids for Defense Against the Dark Arts!
Look at this pose—" He turned sideways, bent his knee, and pointed his wand at the sky, "—a perfect starting move to ward off a curse!" Filch's face turned purple with rage, but Lockhart had already turned to the lower-year students crowding him, "Children! Remember! An elegant posture is the first element of defense!"
Hermione clutched her textbook, "Travels with Ghouls," her eyes wavering between fanaticism and doubt.
Lynn suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, Lockhart's waving wand narrowly missing the top of her head.
"The first element of defense," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath brushing her earlobe, "is to stay away from moving sources of danger." Hermione giggled, and when Lockhart's displeased gaze swept over, she quickly buried her face in Lynn's shoulder to hide her laughter, her shoulders trembling like a fluttering butterfly.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had become a disaster zone.
Thirty violet-colored Pixies (a variation of the Cornish Pixies from the original work) shrieked and crashed in their cage, their wings beating up whirlwinds.
Lockhart, however, opened his arms ecstatically: "These lovely little fellows? Regular guests in Merlin-level exams! Today we will practice—elegant taming!"
The moment the cage door opened, shrieks tore through the air!
The Pixies exploded like magical fireworks, grabbing Neville's ear and hoisting him onto the chandelier, tearing Seamus's homework into snowflakes, and two of them even fought over Lockhart's golden wig, flying all over the room!
"Come, come! Watch me demonstrate!" Lockhart frantically waved his wand, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" The spell hit the chandelier chain, and Neville shrieked as he plummeted towards the corner piled with cauldrons!
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione's Levitation Charm was quicker, supporting Neville.
At the same time, Lynn pressed one hand onto the podium—
Buzz! An invisible force field rippled out from him, and the air instantly solidified like jelly!
All the flying Pixies were like mosquitoes caught in a spiderweb, their wings buzzing in vain but unable to move an inch!
Seizing this opportunity, Hermione's Freezing Charm fired precisely: "Immobulus!" Icy blue light burst forth one after another, and the Pixies transformed into comical ice sculptures, clattering to the floor.
The classroom was silent.
Lockhart crawled out from under the podium, his wig askew on his forehead.
"Bri… brilliant teamwork!" He forced a smile, dusting off his robes, "As described in Chapter Three of 'Dancing with Banshees': the synergy of companions is the strongest shield!" He deliberately ignored Lynn's cold gaze, turning to the still-shaken students, "Homework: Read Chapter Three and write an essay about my taming methods, twelve inches!"
As they left, Hermione whispered close to Lynn: "That wasn't a standard spell… Did you use the same power as on the train?" Her warm brown eyes shone astonishingly bright, the excitement of discovering new magic overriding her doubts.
"Magical Resonance Field," Lynn explained briefly, his gaze, however, fixed on the back row of the classroom—Ginny was clutching that black diary tightly, her nails digging into the leather cover.
Spiderweb-like black mist seeped from the edges of the diary, and a chilling aura, only perceptible by the star stone, spread out.
---
At dinner, Hermione slipped a note into Lynn's palm under the long table: "Midnight, Astronomy Tower.
Observing the transit of Venus, best view." A small orange cake was drawn next to the ink.
The Castle sank into sleep, and Lynn, wearing his invisibility cloak, ascended the Astronomy Tower.
Hermione, wrapped in a thick fleece blanket, sat by the telescope, a steaming cocoa pot and heart-shaped orange cake in a wicker basket at her feet.
"The transit of Venus is fake," she said with a cunning smile, pressing the hot cocoa into his hand, "but the surveillance plan for Lockhart's office is real—look!"
The telescope was aimed at the window of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office downstairs.
Lockhart was practicing his autograph in front of a mirror when he suddenly grabbed a stack of reader letters in horror: "Merlin! The Hungarian Horntail Breeders Association is suing for false details in 'Traveling with Dragons'?!" He frantically fumbled through the bookshelf, pulling out a copy of "Essential Memory Modification Spells."
"Every Wednesday at midnight he burns complaint letters." Hermione's breath condensed into white mist in the cold air, "The danger Dobby the House-elf warned about… perhaps it's hidden in those erased truths." She shivered slightly from the cold, and Lynn unfolded the fleece blanket, wrapping her into his embrace.
The rough feel of the wool transmitted body heat through her pajamas; Hermione froze for a moment, then relaxed and leaned against his shoulder.
The star-filled sky rotated above their heads.
As Hermione turned the telescope to track Sirius's path, her hair brushed Lynn's neck, and a fresh scent of citrus mixed with parchment enveloped him.
He pointed to a flickering red star in the southeast: "Mars's trajectory has shifted."
"Professor Pythia's Divination Class said this is an ominous sign…" Hermione's voice trailed off.
Lynn felt her fingers unconsciously intertwine with his sleeve—a habit of hers when she was nervous.
"The trajectories of the stars have not changed for thousands of years," he held her slightly cool hand, guiding it towards the end of Cygnus, "So-called omens are merely illusions projected by humans in their fear." The moment their fingertips touched, the star stone and moon-white stone pulsed simultaneously, a warm, electric current coursing through their clasped palms.
Hermione looked up at him, the starlight from the Astronomy Tower falling into her eyes, shattering into a flowing galaxy.
---
The change occurred three days later in Potion Class.
Snape's black robes billowed like a storm cloud as he coldly mocked Neville's dried-up Doxy moths: "Mr. Longbottom, perhaps you should donate your cauldron to a Troll for a baby bottle?"
A harsh scraping sound suddenly erupted from the back of the classroom!
Ginny had accidentally knocked over a copper scale, and dark beetle eyes rolled all over the floor.
Her face was ghostly pale, and her fingers nervously clawed at the edge of the cauldron—where remnants of dark red writing, written in Potion, were fading: "Kill… must…"
"Miss Weasley!" Snape swooped to her desk like a bat, his bony fingers pinching her wrist, "Disrupting class, Gryffindor will lose…"
"She has a fever, Professor!" Hermione suddenly stood up, her words coming out as fast as a series of spells, "Madam Pomfrey said this morning she needed observation! I was just about to take her to the Hospital Wing!" Without waiting for Snape's response, she already had Ginny's trembling body supported and was walking out.
Lynn followed suit: "I'm responsible for moving the ingredients, Professor." He deliberately knocked over a jar of armadillo bile, and the viscous liquid splashed onto Snape's robe hem.
Around the corridor corner, Ginny suddenly erupted with terrifying strength, pushing Hermione away: "Don't touch me!" she shrieked, curling up in the shadow of a gargoyle, her nails scratching bloody marks on her arm, "It's laughing… something in the walls is laughing!" The diary slipped from her embrace, and tar-like black mist seeped from its cover, condensing into the phantom of a young Lord Voldemort, visible only to Lynn!
"Lumos!" The intense light from Lynn's wand pierced the black mist.
The moment the phantom shrieked and dissipated, Ginny collapsed, unconscious.
Hermione knelt, holding her in her arms, her lips trembling as she looked up: "That black mist… was it the diary?"
Lynn picked up the diary; the leather cover pulsed violently in his palm like a living thing.
The star stone sent a knife-like chill—the Basilisk had fully awakened, and Ginny's soul was being rapidly eroded.
"The plan is ahead of schedule." He crushed the poisonous fang leaf juice clinging to his robe hem, and the emerald green pulp seeped into the stone cracks, "We need a lure to draw the snake out of its nest."
---
That night, by the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione handed Lynn the modified surveillance plan.
The parchment edges were densely marked with Ginny's abnormal timetable, but a symbol of intertwined stars and moon was drawn at the bottom of the page.
Lynn's fingertip traced it, and he looked up to meet Hermione's eyes, full of worry.
"If the lure plan requires someone to be in danger…" Her voice choked.
"It won't be you." Lynn pulled away the quill she was clutching tightly; the pen still carried the dampness of her palm, "The Basilisk's target is always the 'impure'." He dipped a new quill in ink, and on the back of the plan, he drew a diagram of the magic nodes of three corridors, "Filch's cat, Madam Norris—it always lingers near blood purists."
Hermione suddenly grabbed his drawing hand: "Then you have to promise me…" The firelight danced on her eyelashes, casting flickering golden shadows, "No matter how urgent, don't use that life-draining magical resonance again." Her fingertips pressed against his chest, touching the location of the star stone through his clothes, "On the train and in the classroom… your body temperature drops sharply after each use."
Lynn covered her hand with his own, pressing her slightly cool hand firmly over his heartbeat.
The crackling of the fire, Ron's snores in the distance, the rustling of parchment all faded away, leaving only the young, steady pulse beneath his palm, transmitted through bone, beat after beat.
"Okay," he promised in a low, husky voice.
Hermione suddenly leaned in, a kiss as light as falling snow imprinted on the corner of his lips, carrying the sweet freshness of orange cake and the scent of fresh ink.
The moon-white stone around her neck suddenly grew hot, its light diffusing through her sweater to form a small patch of warm white, illuminating the inches of breath between them.
Outside the window, Hogwarts Castle was submerged in the inky blue night, and somewhere within its walls, snake scales scraped against ancient stone bricks.
But in the warm glow of the Common Room, in the clasped hands of the boy and girl, the brilliance of star stone and moon-white stone silently merged, weaving the first line of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Chapter 47 Ice Mark and Warm Hearth
The lingering warmth of the first kiss on the Astronomy Tower had not yet faded from their lips when the icy reality crashed in like a tide.
Ginny lay unconscious in the Hospital Wing, diagnosed by Madam Pomfrey with 'nervous hyperthermia caused by magic exhaustion'.
Hermione clutched Lynn's sleeve, standing by the bedside, watching Ginny's unnaturally flushed, pale face, her nails almost digging into her palms.
"The diary..." Her voice was tight, her gaze fixed on the black diary, which Lynn had bound with multiple isolation spells and locked in the iron cabinet by the bed.
Through the cabinet door's crack, a subtle, viscous black aura, imperceptible to the naked eye, stubbornly seeped out, struggling as if alive.
"Its activity is increasing." Lynn's voice was low and steady like a rock.
The star stone pressed against his chest, continuously sending cold, needle-like stings, sharper than ever before—the Basilisk's movements in the pipes were becoming frequent and agitated, and the diary's connection to its host was being forcibly deepened by some power.
"We can't wait for the Basilisk to appear on its own anymore."
"The bait plan," Hermione looked up sharply, her brown eyes burning with resolve, "Tonight?"
Lynn nodded, his gaze sweeping over the deepening twilight outside the Hospital Wing window: "The moon phase is waning, which is when serpentine magic is relatively dormant."
He pulled out a blank Potion Class parchment, dipped his wand tip into the calming Potion residue in Ginny's bowl, and quickly sketched out the key corridors.
"Madam Norris's patrol route is fixed; she loves to linger near the abandoned girls' lavatory on the second floor—it's full of pipes."
"The lavatory..." Hermione immediately understood, "Moaning Myrtle's territory! The pipe intersection!"
A flicker of realization crossed her eyes, quickly followed by worry, "But how can you be sure it will attack Madam Norris? What if..."
"Filch, the fanatical pure-blood," Lynn tapped heavily on the location of "Filch's Office" on the parchment, "and his inseparable cat.
In the 'heir's' eyes, they themselves are a defilement of 'purity'." His tone was calm, yet it carried the coldness of one who understood darkness.
With the plan set, the heavy air was almost suffocating.
Hermione looked at Lynn's calm profile, then suddenly reached out to touch his forehead—the icy touch of his fingertips made her heart clench.
"Your body temperature... it's even lower than before!" Her voice held an almost imperceptible tremor, "Is it because you're suppressing the diary?"
Lynn took her slightly cold wrist and pulled it down: "The consumption is controllable." He avoided a direct answer; the backlash from overusing the star stone, like bone-chilling cold, was slowly eroding his body temperature.
But he couldn't stop.
"Liar," Hermione mumbled softly, then tightly clasped his hand, trying to transfer the warmth from her palm to him.
The moon-white stone around her neck glowed faintly, and a gentle warmth flowed through their clasped hands, seeping into Lynn.
The stinging sensation from the star stone seemed to be neutralized by this warmth, subsiding slightly.
***
Hogwarts Castle in the dead of night was like a slumbering giant.
Lynn, cloaked in the invisibility cloak, moved silently through the moonless shadows, a shadow merged with the walls.
Hermione, wearing thick wool socks and carrying several large books as a disguise, followed a few steps behind him, her heart pounding like a drum.
According to the plan, she was responsible for listening for movement at the corners with her Extendable Ears and being ready to set off Lynn's specially made bright fireworks as a signal.
The abandoned girls' lavatory on the second floor was filled with the smell of damp mold and a faint aura of sadness.
Moaning Myrtle was intermittently sobbing in one of the stalls.
Lynn carefully dabbed a small bottle of concentrated Potion, emitting a pungent fishy smell (taken from the internal organs of spiny fish from the Black Lake depths), into the cracks of the floor tiles at the lavatory entrance.
This was a highly attractive 'bait' for snakes.
After setting the bait, he quickly retreated to the corridor corner to meet Hermione.
In the darkness, they pressed against the cold stone wall, their breathing barely audible.
Hermione could clearly feel the chill emanating from Lynn; even under the invisibility cloak, that low temperature worried her deeply.
She couldn't help but quietly reach out, and through the fabric of the invisibility cloak, gently covered the back of his hand, which was tightly gripping his wand.
Time ticked by in the deadly silence.
Just as Hermione almost thought the plan had failed, Filch's hoarse grumbling and Madam Norris's familiar, complaining meow came from a distance!
They're here!
Lynn's body instantly tensed like a bowstring!
Hermione also held her breath, pressing the horn of the Extendable Ear tightly against her ear.
Footsteps and meows stopped at the lavatory door.
"Always running off here, you disobedient little thing!" Filch's voice held a doting scolding.
Then came the sound of Madam Norris sniffing the ground, followed by a contented purr, attracted by the fishy smell.
Suddenly!
A grating, teeth-on-edge noise, like countless giant ice plates scraping against each other, erupted from beneath the floor, from deep within the walls!
The sound carried a soul-piercing, icy malice, clearer and more terrifying than the hiss on the train!
"Meow-ow—!!!" Madam Norris's agonizing, distorted shriek tore through the night!
"Norris!" Filch's terrified roar sounded almost simultaneously!
Now!
Lynn dramatically threw off the invisibility cloak, his wand pointing like a drawn sword directly at the lavatory door!
Hermione lit the fireworks in her hand almost in the same second!
"Fulminare Lucem!" Lynn's spell was not an ordinary Lumos, but a super-burst infused with the power of the star stone!
A blinding, scorching white light, like a miniature sun, exploded from his wand tip, instantly illuminating the entire corridor as bright as day!
The light pierced through the open lavatory door, revealing a horrifying scene inside!
Madam Norris was suspended upside down by an invisible, immense force, flung towards the dusty chandelier!
Her body was rigid, her soft fur covered in a thick layer of ice crystals that shimmered with an eerie, ghostly blue light, like an exquisite ice sculpture specimen!
Filch lay sprawled on the ground, pointing at the floor in terror, his lips trembling, unable to speak.
And on the damp wall, illuminated by the beam of light, a line of huge letters, formed from twisted ice shards, emanated a chilling coldness:
"The unclean defilers have been purged. The Chamber of Secrets shall finally open."
Below the icy inscription, two deep indentations, as if ploughed by the belly of a giant snake, stretched from the wall to the sewage-stained stone floor, with tiny, shimmering, ghostly blue ice fragments remaining along the edges of the indentations!
The intense light lasted only three short seconds before suddenly extinguishing.
Lynn groaned as the light died, his body swayed, his face deathly pale in the darkness, his wand-holding hand trembling uncontrollably.
Over-activating the star stone's power to resist the biting cold and the Basilisk's hiss, the backlash was like an ice pick stabbing into his bones!
"Lynn!" Hermione, ignoring the scene, lunged towards him the moment darkness fell, catching his swaying body.
His arm skin, where she touched, was terrifyingly cold, as if just pulled from an ice cellar!
"I'm fine..." Lynn's voice was a suppressed gasp; he forced himself to stand steady.
Just then, students, alarmed by the bright light and screams, rushed in from all directions, wands in hand and wearing pajamas!
Footsteps, gasps, and questions mingled in a chaotic din.
"What happened?"
"Who was screaming?"
"Oh my goodness! What was that light?"
Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape also arrived almost simultaneously.
Dumbledore's keen blue eyes, sharp as a hawk's, instantly swept over the frozen Madam Norris, the icy inscription on the wall, and finally landed on Lynn, who was tightly supported by Hermione and looked unusually pale, a flicker of understanding in his eyes.
"Mr. Filch," Dumbledore's voice was steady and powerful, instantly quelling the noise, "Please explain."
Filch scrambled to Dumbledore's feet, tears streaming down his face, pointing at the frozen cat and the writing on the wall: "Principal! It's a monster! The monster in the walls! It attacked my Norris! And there's writing! It left writing!"
He was incoherent, fear almost breaking him.
Professor McGonagall gasped, carefully examining Madam Norris with her wand: "Rapid, deep full-body freezing... not any known freezing spell... more like... the contact effect of some powerful cold-blooded magical creature..." She looked at the ice-shard inscription on the wall, her face extremely grim.
Snape's sinister gaze, like a cold snake's tongue, slowly swept over every student present, lingering longer on Lynn.
In the depths of his black eyes, scrutiny and a hint of deep suspicion swirled.
"All students, return to your respective Common Rooms immediately!" Dumbledore's voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable authority, "Prefects are responsible for counting heads!
Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, please assist Mr. Filch in transferring... Madam Norris to a safe place.
Until this matter is thoroughly investigated, no discussion is permitted tonight!"
The crowd dispersed uneasily at the Prefects' urging, whispers spreading like a plague.
A cloud of fear, for the first time, hung so heavily over Hogwarts' ancient Castle.
Hermione, half-supporting, half-hugging Lynn, struggled against the flow of students towards Gryffindor Tower.
She could feel Lynn's weight increasingly leaning on her, his body temperature frighteningly low, his steps becoming unsteady.
"Hold on... we're almost there..." Hermione's voice was tearful; she used all her strength to support him, her other hand tightly gripping his cold hand, futilely trying to warm it.
Finally, they reached the empty Common Room; the fireplace had long since died out, leaving only cold embers.
Hermione carefully settled Lynn on the sofa closest to the fireplace, fumbling to relight the fire, but her trembling fingers couldn't strike a match.
"Don't bother with the fire..." Lynn's voice was weak and low.
He leaned back in the sofa, his thick eyelashes casting faint shadows on his pale face, his breathing shallow and rapid.
The star stone pulsed faintly beneath his robes, as if it might extinguish at any moment.
Hermione's tears finally fell.
She knelt before the sofa, unhesitatingly unbuttoning her thick wool cardigan, then tremblingly took Lynn's cold, stiff hand and directly tucked it under her warm sweater, pressing it against her warm abdominal skin!
"Mmm..." Lynn let out a muffled groan, his body trembling from the sudden, scorching heat.
"Don't speak!" Hermione commanded tearfully, her hands pressing tightly over her sweater on his hand against her lower abdomen, using her body's warmth to warm his ice-cold palm.
The girl's soft, warm skin pressed against the boy's cold hand, the extreme temperature difference bringing a shiver, yet strangely conveying a life-giving warmth.
Hermione's other hand trembled as she caressed Lynn's cold cheek, trying to warm him.
The moon-white stone, pressed against her collarbone, emitted an unprecedented, steady warm white glow, like a small sun, diligently dispelling the chill that permeated Lynn's body.
"Idiot... big idiot..." She sobbed softly, her forehead resting against his cold forehead, warm tears dripping onto his pale skin, "Don't do this again... don't deplete yourself again..."
Her breath, a mix of the sweet freshness of orange cake and the saltiness of tears, lingered at Lynn's nostrils.
Lynn struggled to open his eyes, his vision somewhat blurry, seeing only Hermione's tear-streaked face so close, and those brown eyes filled with fear, heartache, and determination.
The stiff hand she had forcibly pressed against her warm abdomen greedily absorbed the continuous warmth, imbued with the girl's fragrance.
An unprecedented warmth, mixed with the warm pulsation of the star stone, which had restabilized under the influence of the moon-white stone's power, slowly and with difficulty flowed through his cold limbs and bones.
He very faintly moved the fingers of the hand Hermione was pressing against her abdomen, gently hooking the edge of her sweater, like a weak response.
Outside, Hogwarts Castle plunged into deadly silence and darkness.
Inside the walls, the icy trails of the Basilisk gleamed with a ghostly blue light under the moon.
And in Gryffindor's cold Common Room, the girl, with her scorching body temperature and tears, ignited the first faint glimmer against the cold night for the star she protected.
Chapter 48: Hearth Agreement and Undercurrent
The Common Room's icy air was rekindled by the fireplace, the crackling wood dispelling the shadows in the corners, but not the lingering fear in Hermione's eyes. Lynn leaned back in her plush armchair (which Hermione had moved from her own bed), wrapped in three Gryffindor scarves, with her thickest wool blanket over his knees.
His face was still pale, but his tightly pursed lips finally regained a hint of color, and the star stoneemitted a faint but steady warmth through layers of fabric.
"Open your mouth," Hermione's tone was an undeniable command as she spooned a steaming scoop of turmeric Potion to his lips.
A strong, spicy aroma permeated the air; it was Madam Pomfrey's special cold-dispelling concoction.
Lynn frowned; the taste was comparable to Snape's failed Potions.
But under Hermione's burning gaze, as if she would personally force it down him if he didn't drink, he could only obediently swallow.
The hot liquid slid down his throat, making his Adam's apple bob, and a warmth rose in his stomach, but it also brought a wave of nausea.
"Very good, another spoonful." Hermione watched him swallow with satisfaction, like a head nurse caring for a seriously ill patient.
"Madam Pomfrey said you must finish it! Once every hour!" She shook the Potion bottle, which was the size of a thermos.
Lynn: "..."
He felt his stomach protesting.
"And this," Hermione conjured a thick roll of parchment from her bag, unfurling it with a rustle.
The title read: "Agreement on Limiting the Use of High-Consumption Primal magic (Draft)," followed by densely packed clauses:
> * * Article 1 * *: The use of "magic Resonance Field" and similar primal magic is prohibited except in life-threatening situations.
> * * Article 2 * *: After each use, body temperature and magic fluctuation data must be immediately reported to the Supervisor (Hermione Granger).
> * * Article 3 * *: The Supervisor has the final say on mandatory Potion administration and physical warmth (including but not limited to warming hands and abdomen)...
> * * Signature * *: _____________ (Lynn A. Stone)
Lynn looked at the line "physical warmth," recalling the scorching skin pressed against his abdomen last night, and his ear tips involuntarily flushed.
He looked up at Hermione—she was trying hard to keep a straight face, maintaining the serious image of a "Supervisor," but her slightly reddened earlobes and flickering eyes betrayed her shyness.
"Will you sign?" She pushed a quill into his still somewhat cold hand, wrapped in the blanket, her fingertips accidentally brushing his palm.
Lynn silently gripped the pen and signed his name at the bottom of the parchment.
His handwriting was a little messier than usual.
Hermione quickly snatched back the agreement, tucking it into the innermost part of her bag as if hiding a treasure, a small, uncontrollable upward curve forming at the corner of her mouth.
She naturally reached out to feel Lynn's forehead—her movements much more practiced than last night.
"Hmm, his temperature is up a bit." She sighed in relief, then picked up a slice of "special" cake, studded with orange peel, sent by Aunt Monica.
"Replenish his energy."
***
The atmosphere of the Castle was like Madam Norris frozen in ice, heavy and stagnant.
The shadow of the "attack incident" hung over everyone.
Whispers filled the corridors, students hurried along, their eyes scanning the walls and corners with anxious suspicion.
"Did you hear? Filch's cat turned into an ice sculpture!"
"There were words on the wall too! Saying the 'Chamber of Secrets' is opening!"
"The Heir! The Heir of Slytherin has returned!"
"Who will be next? Mud—Muggle-borns?"
Panic was spreading like an invisible plague.
Several younger Muggle-born students huddled together, their faces filled with apprehension.
When Harry and Ron found Lynn and Hermione, the two were sitting in a sunlit corner of the Library by the window (Hermione believed the abundant sunlight would aid Lynn's recovery).
"Were you two at the scene last night?" Harry whispered, his green eyes full of worry.
"What exactly happened? Was it really... the monster from the Chamber of Secrets?"
Ron's face was pale: "Ginny woke up this morning, but her eyes were glazed over, and she didn't know anything when we asked her, just clutching that tattered diary.
Mom sent a Howler, scolding Fred and George for showing her Dark Arts objects!" He irritably ran a hand through his red hair.
Hermione gave Lynn a worried glance, then told Harry and Ron: "We only saw Madam Norris frozen in ice, and words made of ice on the wall.
Filch was terrified." She concealed Lynn's intervention and his exhaustion.
Lynn's gaze swept over the courtyard outside the window, where two figures in dark purple uniforms with gold trim, looking serious and rigid, were crossing the grass, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.
The woman leading them had her hair pulled back in a tight bun, a hooked nose, and her lips pressed into a stern, straight line.
"Ministry of Magic people," Lynn said in a low voice.
The plot had accelerated—due to the change in the method of attack (freezing instead of petrification), the Ministry of Magic's involvement was earlier and more direct than in the original story.
Sure enough, that afternoon's Charms Class was temporarily canceled.
All students were required to remain in their Common Rooms, supervised by Prefects.
The Ministry of Magic investigators—Senior Undersecretary Assistant Aurora Hopkins and her aide—accompanied by Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape, began a swift (and extremely unfriendly) interrogation.
Madam Hopkins's questioning was like a cold scalpel.
She focused her inquiries on all students who had been near the second floor during the attack, her questions sharp and suggestive:
"Mr. Longbottom, you seem to have a particular 'knack' for freezing magic? I hear you often cause frost-related incidents in Potion Class?"
"Mr. Weasley, you two seem to have a long-standing grudge against Mr. Filch and his cat?"
"Mr. Potter, the Boy Who Lived... are you particularly interested in the Castle's 'special legends'?"
When her gaze fell on Lynn, her gray eyes were as sharp as searchlights: "Mr. Stone.
According to Filch's vague testimony, when the attack occurred, a 'blindingly bright, unknown source' of strong light appeared, and you were... seemingly nearby at the time?
And, some have noticed your body temperature has been unusually low recently?" She leaned forward, with an air of oppression, "Can you explain that? Some kind of... special magic talent? Or... a side effect?"
The Common Room instantly fell silent, all eyes focusing on Lynn.
Harry and Ron watched him nervously, Hermione's hands on her lap clenched tightly, her fingernails digging into her palms.
Lynn leaned back in his chair, wrapped in his scarf, his face still sickly pale, but his eyes were calm and unwavering, like a deep pool: "Strong light? Perhaps an accidental trigger of some defensive magic.
As for my body temperature," he cast a faint glance at Hermione, whose face was taut beside him, "I merely inadvertently contracted some rare frost-grass pollen from Professor Sprout's greenhouse, and Madam Pomfrey is treating it.
If Madam Hopkins requires medical records, I can request them." His tone was steady, casually deflecting the problem to an accident and Madam Pomfrey.
Hopkins stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly evaluating the truthfulness of his words.
Finally, she snorted, scribbled something on her parchment, and turned to the next person: "Miss Granger, Muggle-born.
According to the 'Chamber of Secrets' legend, you seem to be a high-risk target? Where were you last night?"
Hermione straightened her back, her voice clear: "I was in the Library researching, Madam Pince can testify.
I only came out when I heard the commotion." She deliberately emphasized "Madam Pince," a witness known for her rigor and memory.
The interrogation lasted a full two hours, the atmosphere so oppressive it was suffocating.
When the investigators finally left, a collective sigh of relief erupted in the Common Room, followed by even greater unease.
"They didn't find anything!" Ron said indignantly.
"They don't care about the truth! They just want a scapegoat!" Harry's face was grim.
"They're afraid," Hermione whispered, looking at the closed door, "afraid of the 'Chamber of Secrets,' afraid of power they can't control."
***
Night fell.
Lynn was "ordered" by Hermione to rest early.
He leaned back on the soft cushions of his four-poster bed, reading an ancient text on protective magicrunes borrowed from the Restricted Section (Hermione had helped him borrow it under the guise of research for a paper), illuminated by the faint moonlight outside the window.
The star stone in his chest emitted a regular warmth, his strength slowly recovering, but a persistent chill lingered deep in his limbs.
The door was gently pushed open a crack, and Hermione, in her pajamas, slipped in hugging a bulging ball of yarn, quickly closing the door behind her.
She padded barefoot across the soft carpet, like a light-footed cat, to Lynn's bedside.
"Supervisor rounds," she whispered, her cheeks slightly flushed in the dim light.
She habitually reached out to feel Lynn's forehead, then took his hand to check his temperature.
"Hmm, much better." She sighed in relief, then handed him the ball of yarn.
Lynn looked down, seeing clearly in the moonlight—it was a scarf that had just been started, made with Gryffindor's gold and scarlet yarn, the stitches uneven, clearly a beginner's work.
A note was pinned to the top: "hearth agreement supplementary clause: Supervisor's handmade warmth trial kit."
"It... might not look very good..." Hermione's voice carried a hint of embarrassment, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her pajamas, "But it's very thick! And..." She suddenly leaned closer, a sweet citrus scent mixed with the warmth of cashmere wafting over.
She took Lynn's slightly cool hand and placed his palm on the small, fluffy, soft section of the scarf she had just knitted.
"Can you feel it? It's very warm!"
The warmth of the girl's palm transmitted through the fluffy yarn, carrying her unique scent and clumsy sincerity.
Lynn's fingertips unconsciously caressed the crooked stitches, and a warm current spread from his fingertips, dispelling the last trace of cold from his bones more soothingly than Potion.
The star stone pulsed steadily in his chest, emitting a nearly contented, warm resonance.
"Mm," he responded softly, carefully placing the ball of yarn by his pillow, and then, with his free hand, he clasped Hermione's hand, which was still resting on the scarf.
This time, it was no longer a cold drawing, but a warm clasp.
Outside the window, Hogwarts' night sky was heavily clouded, with no stars or moon visible.
Deep within the Castle, the frozen traces had not yet melted, and the shadow of the Ministry of Magicstill lingered.
But in this small world of the boys' dormitory, a crooked scarf and clasped hands were silently weaving warmth against the cold night.
Hermione did not pull her hand away, letting him hold it, sitting quietly on the carpet by the bed, her head gently resting on his blanket-covered knee.
The moonlight finally struggled through the clouds, casting a room of tranquil silver light, gently elongating their intertwined shadows.
Chapter 49: Starry Sky Revival and Dark Room Conspiracy
Hermione's knitting needles clicked softly by the hearth late into the night. Lynn's fingertips brushed over the crooked star stitches on the crimson scarf; the lingering warmth of the moon-white stoneseeped into his bones, soothing even the sluggish throb of the star stone a little. Outside, snowflakes beat against the windowpane, and only the crackling of embers remained in the common room.
"Your temperature is normal now," Hermione said, putting away her yarn. Her fingertips naturally brushed his forehead. "But the third clause of the hearth agreement is still in effect—" She shook the parchment of the hearth agreement. "No night patrols until your Star Essence magic is fully recovered!"
Before Lynn could respond, the star stone in his chest gave a sudden jolt! It wasn't a sting, but a long-lost, full, burning sensation, like a spring tide surging beneath a frozen river. He clutched his chest, his knuckles white from the force.
"What's wrong?" Hermione tensed instantly.
"...It's throbbing," Lynn's voice was hoarse with disbelief. It wasn't the passive warmth of defense, but the vibrant, burgeoning, primal pulse of the Star Essence—the power that had been dormant since being severely wounded by the Killing Curse was awakening!
Hermione's brown eyes brightened. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to the location of the star stone. A strong, rhythmic throb came from beneath her palm, as if a sleeping galaxy had begun to flow again. She suddenly jumped up and rushed to the window, throwing open the heavy casement!
A biting cold wind, laden with snowflakes, poured in, but it carried with it a wondrous sight—countless faint silver-white threads of light descended from the dark night sky, as if pulled by an invisible force, converging thread by thread towards Lynn's heart! The frost on the window frame silently melted as the light threads swept past.
"Merlin..." Hermione murmured. This was the first time she had witnessed the spectacle of Star Powerresonating with the heavens.
Lynn closed his eyes, feeling the torrent flush through his limbs and bones. His blocked magical meridians were forcefully cleared, and the dark crack in the depths of his soul, torn by the Killing Curse, was rapidly mended by the Starlight. When he opened his eyes again, a glimmer of golden light flickered in their depths.
"You've recovered?" Hermione's voice trembled.
"Yes," Lynn said, opening his palm. A wisp of solidified silver-white star flame burned silently in his palm, with arcane runes swirling in its core. It was no longer a resonance field that consumed life, but a fully controlled Star Essence power.
Hermione suddenly threw herself into his arms, her ball of yarn rolling to the floor. There were no words, only the slight tremor of her shoulders and the warm dampness in the crook of his neck. Lynnfroze for a moment, then slowly wrapped his arms around her, the star flame in his palm extinguishing and transforming into a warm current that enveloped her trembling body. The scent of tangerine from his scarf, mixed with the saltiness of her tears, became the first taste he perceived after his recovery.
***
The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had become Lockhart's new theater. He waved his gold-rimmed wand, dyeing a Troll specimen a garish pink and purple: "Remember! To deal with dark creatures, you must first undermine their morale visually! Like this Troll—who would refuse a dreamy bubblegum Troll?"
Amidst the laughter from below, Hermione clutched Lynn's sleeve and whispered, "Ginny knocked over her cauldron three times in Potion Class this morning... The dark aura from the diary is so thick that Roncomplained it was 'eerie cold.'" Her fingertip traced a crude pipe diagram on the parchment. "The drain in Myrtle's bathroom had a layer of eerie blue ice crystals on it last night."
Lynn's gaze swept over the front row—Ginny was huddled in her seat, the tattered diary pressed tightly against her chest, and spiderweb-like dark blue veins appeared on her pale wrist beneath her cuff. The star stone sent a sharp warning: the Basilisk's agitation had reached a critical point!
"We must get the diary," Lynn traced a serpentine rune on Hermione's palm. "Tonight."
"I'll distract Myrtle!" Hermione understood instantly. "But your power has just recovered..."
"It's enough," Lynn cut her off. His palm deftly produced an orange cake and popped it into her slightly agape lips, which were parted in worry. The sweet tangerine scent exploded on her tongue, and Hermione's face instantly flushed red.
The midday silence of the Library was broken by a sudden shattering sound. Madam Pince shrieked and rushed towards the Restricted Section—three entire rows of bookshelves had been overturned as if by an invisible giant hand, rare ancient books raining down!
"It's Malfoy!" Ron hissed, pointing at a fleeting blonde figure behind a pillar. Harry started to give chase but was stopped by Lynn, who pressed a hand on his shoulder.
"A diversion," Lynn's gaze locked on the Library's side door—Ginny was quietly slipping towards the abandoned archive room, clutching the diary! Spiderweb-like black mist seeped from the diary's cover, dragging a viscous shadow behind her.
The trio followed her in. The archive room reeked of stale parchment, and towering archive shelves cast eerie dark shadows. Ginny knelt in a corner, frantically drawing on the floor tiles with an unknown dark red liquid—at the center of the twisted serpentine symbols was Hermione's name!
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry's spell shot directly at Ginny's back.
At the critical moment, the diary exploded with a thick black mist! A translucent, pale arm reached out from the mist and slapped away the spell's light arc. Ginny turned her head mechanically, her pupils completely black, a non-human grin on her lips: "Annoying..."
The floor collapsed with a roar! A fishy wind, carrying the screeching sound of scales scraping against stone, erupted from underground. The archive shelves toppled like dominoes, and two points of eerie blue cold light appeared in the collapse amidst the dust—though the Basilisk hadn't appeared, its icy gaze had penetrated the earth!
"Close your eyes!" Lynn roared, spinning to press Hermione tightly into his arms. Star Power erupted with unprecedented force, a silver-white cascade of light rising from around him, instantly forming a hemispherical Starlight Barrier! The Basilisk's icy gaze struck the light barrier, shattering into spiderweb-like eerie blue cracks, as extreme cold and star flame fiercely contended on the barrier's surface!
"It's in the tunnel!" Hermione muffled from Lynn's embrace. "Use sound to locate it!"
Ron's mechanical mouse whistle (Fred's prank gift) was snatched by Harry and blown! A sharp, high-pitched sound wave pierced the crypt, and immediately, furious hisses and heavy thuds came from the darkness—the Basilisk was struggling in pain!
The barrier's cracks spread, and a trickle of blood seeped from Lynn's lips. Hermione suddenly broke free from his embrace, plunging her wand into a crack in the ground: "Terra Sonitus!"—her self-created vibration spell. Amidst the violent tremors, the tunnel collapsed with a roar, completely burying the Basilisk's roars.
The black mist shrieked, retracting into the diary. Ginny slumped to the ground, the dark blue of her wrist veins temporarily fading.
***
At the Astronomy Tower at midnight, the galaxy poured down like a waterfall. Hermione, wrapped in Lynn's velvet cloak, gently tapped his chest: "Does it still hurt?" The backlash from the shattered Starlight Barrier had made him cough for half the night.
Lynn shook his head, his palm deftly turning—a cluster of orange blossoms, condensed from starlight, bloomed in his palm, their sweet fragrance indistinguishable from real ones. "To make up for your cake." Her snacks had been flattened into a pancake during the chaos in the Library earlier that day.
Hermione took the bouquet, the starlight illuminating the moisture in her eyes: "When the barrier shattered... I thought the Killing Curse wound had relapsed..." She suddenly stood on tiptoe and kissed his cool lips, with a trembling desperation. The starlight blossoms scattered glittering points between their touching fingers.
Lynn froze, the star stone throbbing with a molten-gold heat between their closely pressed chests. He awkwardly returned the kiss, his palm cupping the back of her neck, and starlight flowed down from his hair, enveloping them in a cocoon-like aura. In the distance, the mournful cry of Thestrals came from the Forbidden Forest, while above the tower, the starry sky was gentle and silent.
When they broke apart, Hermione buried her flushed face in his shoulder: "The symbols Ginny drew... the Basilisk's next target is me."
"It won't get the chance," Lynn tightened his arms, his chin resting on her fluffy curls. In the moonlight, the golden glints deep in his pupils solidified into substance.
***
In the shadows of the dungeon, Lucius Malfoy's snake-head staff tapped on the cold stone bricks. "The diary is accelerating its consumption of that girl," he said, coldly watching the magical image appearing on the wall—it was the scene of Ginny drawing blood runes in the archive room. "But the child of the stars's power has recovered."
Snape looked up from the Potion steam, his black robes billowing like a bat's wings: "Dumbledore has strengthened the warding spells on all pipe passages. The Basilisk's next attack will inevitably expose the pipe entrance."
"Then let the heir's fury burn even brighter," Lucius's lips curved into a viper-like smile, and a brooch inlaid with a black gemstone slid into his palm. "Put this 'gift' into Granger's Transfiguration Classhomework... When the Basilisk bursts through the classroom floor, let's see if the Starlight Barrier can withstand a face-to-face gaze?"
Deep within the black gemstone on the brooch, a wisp of viscous black mist, originating from the same source as the diary, swirled like a living thing. Outside, snowflakes covered the newly formed eerie blue ice marks on the Castle's exterior walls, but they couldn't conceal the hissing conspiracy within.
The moon-white stone around Hermione's neck suddenly flashed a cold warning light. Lynn abruptly looked up, Star Power piercing through layers of brick and stone, locking onto that nauseating dark resonance in the dungeon.
The chessboard had reached its mid-game, and the line between hunter and hunted was subtly shifting with the reviving light of the starry sky.