When the Gryffindors saw the hourglasses the next morning, they collectively lost it.
Even with the points Lynn and Harry had earned, Gryffindor had still been docked a brutal twenty-eight points in one night. A new single-day record. The little lions wanted to cry into their cornflakes.
Then the full story spread, and suddenly everyone was howling with laughter.
Because yeah, Gryffindor got hammered… but Slytherin got absolutely destroyed.
Thanks to the combined efforts of Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, Slytherin had racked up a whopping seventy-five point loss in a single evening. Their emerald hourglass didn't just hit zero—it went negative. Actual rubies were missing.
Across the Great Hall, the Ravenclaw table acted as a perfect buffer zone between the cheering Gryffindors and the Slytherin table, which looked like a thundercloud had parked itself overhead and started raining knives.
Draco hadn't even shown his face at breakfast—smart. Crabbe and Goyle, however, were happily shoveling food into their mouths, completely oblivious to the murderous glares coming from every green-trimmed robe in the room.
The second those two stepped out of the professors' sightlines? Straight into a toilet bowl, head-first, swish—guaranteed.
If two bloated, bruised bodies floated up in the Black Lake tomorrow morning, nobody would be shocked.
(Hogwarts technically forbids murder, and Slytherin isn't Azkaban… but a very bad day was inevitable.)
Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw hadn't escaped Snape's wrath entirely either, and their upcoming Potions classes were Monday. They were already sweating.
Thanks to Slytherin taking the ultimate L, though, the Gryffindor common room that Friday night was buzzing with celebration. The second weekend of term arrived in a blaze of glory.
Lynn slipped out alone to the Hog's Head, sold the potions he'd brewed during the week, and apparated back in under five minutes—easy money, no haggling required the second time around.
Saturday morning, 7:15 a.m., peaceful silence lasted exactly three seconds.
"LYNN! GET UP!"
The dorm door banged open. Harry (girl-mode, apparently full of beans) marched in, ripped Lynn's blanket clean off, and yanked him upright by the arm.
"What the—" Lynn yawned, hair sticking up like he'd been electrocuted. A uniform robe landed on his face.
"Cho's tryouts, genius! You promised!"
"That's not till nine," he mumbled, squinting at the clock.
"You can't play Quidditch on a full stomach. Gotta digest first."
Harry spun toward the other beds. "Neville, Seamus, Dean—you lot coming? Gryffindor tryouts are this morning too. Let's go watch!"
Seamus was already halfway into his jeans. "Hell yes!"
Neville nodded fast—he still owed Lynn for saving him from total embarrassment in first-year flying lessons.
Dean looked curious. "Quidditch… that's the one on brooms, right? Is it like football? I was on my school team back home."
Harry grinned. "Kinda like basketball in the sky, but with more balls and fewer rules about gravity."
Dean's eyes lit up. "I'm in."
Two minutes later the whole crew—plus Hermione and Parvati, who'd been waiting downstairs—was marching noisily toward the Great Hall for breakfast.
Because of tryouts, the place was packed even on a Saturday. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables were slammed; Hufflepuff had a decent turnout too (their tryouts were that afternoon). Slytherin's bench? Empty. Classic.
Lynn slid in next to Cho, who was nibbling a sandwich and trying not to look nervous.
"Hey. Ready to crush it?"
"A little nervous," she admitted, "but I think I've got a real shot. I'm aiming for reserve Seeker—Bennett's not graduating till next year."
"Reserve is still awesome," Lynn said. "Better than being thrown straight into the fire."
Cho swallowed her last bite and stood up, brushing crumbs off her robes. "I'm only eating till I'm half-full. Lynn—wanna come warm up with me? You can be the Snitch."
Lynn side-eyed her. "You're not about to test whether you've got Beater blood by whacking Bludgers at me, are you?"
Her gaze drifted to the foot-long baguette on the table. She picked it up thoughtfully.
Lynn's danger instincts pinged. Hardened French bread = medieval weapon.
He bolted.
"Use that thing and you're disqualified for life!"
"Get back here, coward!" Cho laughed, brandishing the baguette like a sword and chasing him out of the Great Hall.
"Even if you catch me, you're not getting any hehehey!" Lynn yelled over his shoulder, already halfway down the corridor.
Behind them, the entire Gryffindor table dissolved into laughter. Best Saturday morning ever.