By the time Lynn finished reading the fourth book, it was already seven-thirty in the morning.
Another bruise had bloomed on her left arm; the constant ache reminded her that every second counts and no delay is allowed.
She stuffed her Potion supplies into her bag, left the Dormitory, and hurried toward the Great Hall, silently reciting every point she had memorised from those four books.
The moment she stepped inside, food appeared on the four long tables.
Sliding onto the Ravenclaw Table, she kept wolfing down her breakfast.
By the time she finished and reached the Potions classroom, the other students and Professors were only just drifting into the Hall for breakfast.
The Little Eagles who looked around and couldn't spot her began to cluster in twos and threes, whispering.
'Do you think… Lynn will earn points again today?'
'Probably—she's amazing.' The two first-year Eagles exchanged hopeful glances.
'Not necessarily,' an older Ravenclaw cut in. 'Isn't your first class Potions this morning?'
'Yes.' The first-year nodded shyly.
'Then forget it,' the senior sighed. 'Professor Snape always favours Slytherin. He hardly ever gives points to the other Houses—especially not Gryffindor.'
The two Little Eagles exchanged glum looks; any chance of points this morning seemed gone.
Lynn, already in the Potions classroom, knew nothing of the talk at the Ravenclaw Table.
She sat in the seat closest to the front, Rowena Ravenclaw's recommended book hidden behind her cauldron, head bowed in concentration.
When the students had all arrived, a black-robed figure strode in, his cloak billowing like a dark wave behind him.
Lynn closed her book, took out her Potions text, and stared at Professor Snape with blank, lifeless eyes.
Snape mounted the dais and looked down at the Little Eagles and Little Badgers.
His gaze lingered on Lynn: vacant, emotionless… the sort of eyes an Occlumency master recognised at once—this little Troll was almost certainly using Occlumency.
And she was good at it. A first-year who could already shield her mind? Something felt off.
Coupled with Potter's arrival this year, Snape decided he would speak to Headmaster Dumbledore after class; Potter's safety… Pulling his thoughts back, he drawled the same opening line he used every year.
He turned and tapped the blackboard, writing the steps and cautions for the Boil-Cure Potion.
After a brief explanation he ordered them straight into brewing.
With no Gryffindors present, his tongue was slightly less venomous.
Still, several Little Badgers were sprayed with acid, cringing as they reached for ingredients with shaking hands.
Those Hufflepuffs who had asked around and paired with Ravenclaws sighed in relief at their decent-looking potions—disaster averted. Lynn's partner was Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff, who had claimed the seat beside her the instant she entered.
Lynn's brilliance yesterday had been obvious; that alone was enough.
Everyone assumed that even if her Potions weren't as strong as her Charms or Transfiguration, they couldn't be bad.
So teaming up with Lynn became Hannah's first choice—she had no wish to be reduced to tears by Snape's scolding.
Now Lynn proved her Potions were every bit as flawless as her other subjects.
Hannah watched, eyes shining, as Lynn followed the textbook to the letter, weighing ingredients with perfect precision.
She swallowed hard, certain she'd latched onto a golden thigh; next Potions lesson she'd arrive even earlier to secure the spot beside Lynn!
When the brew reached the stage for adding porcupine quills, Hannah was still staring.
Lynn tapped her shoulder. 'You need to add the quills.'
'Ah—right, right!' Hannah snapped out of it and dropped the prepared spines into the cauldron.
Lynn continued with mechanical smoothness, every motion exact.
Snape, observing from the side, knew at once their Potion would be perfect.
A few minutes later Lynn decanted the Potion and handed the vial to Snape.
'Miss Lin, Miss Abbott,' Snape held up their Potion, inspecting it. 'You have succeeded.'
'I can award you… an E. Points deducted because Miss Abbott contributed too little.','It makes me doubt your competence.'
Hannah hung her head, shame-faced, sneaking a glance at Lynn.
Lynn's Potion had been flawless; because of her, they'd lost points—surely Lynn would be furious…
'Thank you, Professor,' Lynn said calmly, no trace of anger.
'I've noted it. Next time I'll make sure Hannah does more. Sorry—I didn't think of it this time.'
She turned to Hannah, voice flat: 'Sorry, Hannah. I should have let you do more.'
Hannah flapped her hands frantically. 'No, no—it's my fault…'
Snape frowned. 'Very well. Perhaps you two can argue over blame outside?','Your grade is given; you may go.'
Lynn nodded politely. 'Thank you, Professor Snape. Goodbye.'
She packed up and left the classroom.
Hannah stammered a farewell, gathered her things, and dashed after her—but Lynn had already vanished down the corridor.
Allowed to leave the Potion Class early, Lynn hurried out of the corridor, turned the corner, and stepped into the girls' washroom, ducking into a cubicle.
She shut the cubicle door, and the moment it clicked, the grade she had just received—an E—flashed through her mind.
At Hogwarts, O is the highest mark, followed by E, P, N, and T. An E meant… she had not scored full marks.
That realization snapped her upright; without hesitation she slapped herself hard across the face.
Her fair skin flushed crimson, swelling after a dozen blows. When she had delivered thirty, she stopped.
Blood dotted the corner of her mouth. She opened the cubicle door, walked to the sink, and studied her reflection.
Satisfied that the damage met the punishment her mother once decreed, she wiped the blood away and left the washroom.
She entered the Great Hall. The detour had cost her time; already some Young Wizards had begun lunch.
Lynn slid into her usual seat and started eating with mechanical speed.
The injuries slowed her. The vivid welts and handprints drew stares.
"Was Lynn… beaten up?" a first-year Little Eagle murmured, gaping at her swollen face.
"Hm?" Ravenclaw's female Prefect, Penelope, set down her knife and fork and turned.
Seeing the unmistakable hand-shaped bruise, Penelope frowned sharply at the first-year.
"Do you know what happened? Who did this?"
The younger girl blinked and shook her head hastily.
"No idea. Her face was fine in Potion Class. Her group finished early and left first—after that, we don't know."
"All right, thank you." Penelope rose, moved to Lynn's side, and sat down gently.
"Mind if I join you?"
Lynn paused mid-chew, swallowed, and answered tonelessly, "I don't mind. Please sit."
The same emotionless voice she had used the night of the Sorting. Penelope pressed her lips together.
"Lynn, did someone hit you? What happened to your face?"
Lynn met her gaze; her eyes were lifeless, a stagnant pool.
"No one hit me. I did it myself."
"You did that?!" Penelope stared, incredulous at the calm admission.
"Why would you hit yourself?"
Lynn replied as if stating the obvious: "Because my Potion score wasn't perfect. I needed to punish myself so I'd remember."
Penelope felt her breath catch. "You… you slapped yourself for not getting full marks?"
"No one except Slytherins ever gets top marks in Professor Snape's class!"
Lynn gave a small nod. "Oh."
Penelope opened her mouth, found no words, and finally sighed. She tapped Lynn's cheek lightly with a fingertip.
The heat still radiating from the skin made her feel suffocated—though she couldn't say why.
She drew her wand and murmured, "Episkey."
The swelling faded; the handprints vanished, leaving Lynn's face pale and delicate once more.
After repeating the spell on the other cheek, Penelope folded her arms and regarded her sternly.
"Lynn, whatever grade you get, you are never to hurt yourself like this again, understand?"
"If I catch you doing it, I'll take you straight to Professor Flitwick. I'll watch you every single day."
She finished with a sigh and smoothed Lynn's hair.
"Silly girl, doesn't it hurt to hit yourself?"
Lynn resumed eating, unmoved; she could not comprehend the concern in Penelope's voice.
Just as she could not grasp why Penelope objected to her self-punishment and forbade it.
None of her previous teachers or classmates had ever commented on it.
Though she did not understand, she memorized Penelope's warning.
If someone watched her daily… future punishments would simply be hidden where no one looked.
She glanced at her left arm. Her father had said punishment fixes mistakes and raises marks.
After lunch she headed for the Library, leaving Hannah Abbott to miss her again.
She pulled out a book on Quidditch—the only course without a textbook—and began to study.
It corresponded to her old PE class, but she needed to know exactly what to do and how.
Having memorized the contents and understood how to ride a flying broomstick, she closed the book, walked onto the grass before Hogwarts Castle, and set her bag and wand against the wall.
The book warned: never carry a wand while flying; accidents can snap it or wound the rider.
Minutes later, Madam Hooch arrived on the lawn.
Little Eagles and Little Badgers buzzed with excitement; flight always thrilled children—except for Lynn, whose face remained impassive.
No one paid her special attention; after lunch Penelope had quietly found the few who had seen the bruises.
She made them promise to keep silent, to spare Lynn gossip or stares.
They all nodded, so only a handful knew what had happened.
At Madam Hooch's command, Lynn mounted her broom and rose smoothly at the whistle.
She spent the entire lesson executing perfect low-altitude laps, then descended.
When Madam Hooch dismissed the class, Lynn retrieved her bag and wand and strode back toward the Great Hall.