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Professor Trelawney fainted.
Soon, having received the news, Professor McGonagall hurried to the North Tower. She didn't ask many questions, decisively sending Professor Trelawney to the School Infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey.
With the Professor gone, the class naturally could not continue.
Lynn's first Divination Class at Hogwarts ended early just like that.
The students packed their things amidst much chatter, leaving the still sweltering and strange attic classroom one after another.
Lynn, Ollie, and Edgar followed the crowd down the spiral staircase.
Malfoy followed not far behind them, his brow slightly furrowed.
He had originally wanted to use the opportunity of sitting at the same table today to naturally chat more with Lynn; in short, he wanted to make this "friendship" feel more natural.
As it turned out, he was first interrupted by Professor Trelawney's foul-smelling classroom and even stranger behavior, and now the class had suddenly ended. He felt like no decent interaction had happened at all.
"Tsk." Malfoy felt a bit unwilling to let it go.
He quickened his pace, squeezing into the line where Lynn and the other two were walking side by side.
"Lynn," he spoke up, trying to find a topic to continue the conversation from class, naturally thinking of the tea leaves.
"About that tea leaf divination just now, mine..." He paused, as if weighing his words.
Lynn glanced sideways at Malfoy, knowing he was just looking for a conversation starter.
He paused with feigned depth and decided to talk nonsense; he didn't understand the first thing about divination.
"Hmm... based on my years of superficial study of the occult, combined with the orientation of the teacup, the lighting at the time, and the 'returning to basics, chaotic and unclear' state of the tea leaves..."
Lynn's words grew more and more mysterious, leaving Malfoy looking completely bewildered. "The revelation I've interpreted is that you should—stay away from sharp-beaked animals."
Malfoy: "..."
Why did this answer sound so much like random nonsense?
But... it was very 'Lynn'...
Time skipped forward to the next day.
The morning Potion Class had just ended. Lynn packed his things and walked slowly toward the Great Hall, preparing to enjoy lunch.
The complex scent of various Potion ingredients from the dungeons seemed to linger in the air, but what Lynn was reflecting on more was today's rather peculiar Potion Class.
Snape had acted uncharacteristically today. Instead of following the third-year syllabus he had set, he skipped ahead to teach the Wolfsbane Potion.
A complex Potion used to prevent werewolves from losing their sanity during a full moon.
That was strange enough in itself, but what was even stranger was the extra requirement Snape had set:
While ensuring the original efficacy of the Potion remained completely unchanged, do everything possible to make the Potion taste as disgusting as possible.
This requirement left most of the students in the class dumbfounded.
They hadn't even memorized the standard formula and brewing steps for the Wolfsbane Potion yet, let alone adjusting the taste while maintaining efficacy—and adjusting it toward "disgusting" at that?
This was practically a heretical puzzle in the field of Potions.
Of course, "most" did not include Lynn.
With the boost from his [Potions Favor] ability, adjusting the taste? And making it disgusting? This was simply too (insanely) fun!
And so, while his classmates were scratching their heads, either brewing weirdly colored waste or producing plain but likely effective standard versions...
Inside Lynn's cauldron, a "disaster fusion" of scents was taking place.
In the end, Lynn successfully brewed a pot of Potion that looked normal in color but emitted an odor strong enough to make one's face turn green and stomach churn instantly without even passing by his cauldron.
That smell perfectly combined the "fragrance" of canned herring with the "richness" of Norwegian lutefisk, while faintly carrying the scent of half-month-old mixed trash and a rotting swamp.
The "power" of the Potion was so immense that Snape almost immediately ordered the whole class to move to the empty classroom next door to continue brewing and strictly forbade Lynn from moving his cauldron.
Before class ended, Lynn carefully bottled the finished product and took it to Professor Snape for inspection.
When that bottle of Potion was placed on Snape's desk, even through the stopper, that terrifying smell seemed to faintly seep out.
Snape stared intently at the bottle, the corners of his mouth twitching uncontrollably, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently as if he were desperately suppressing the urge to gag.
However, Lynn keenly captured that beneath that contorted face, the corners of Snape's mouth seemed to have a nearly pleasant upward curve?
"Barely..." Snape's voice was strained, "Gag... met the requirements. Eff— gag— testing... will be conducted later. Hufflepuff..." He paused again without making a sound, "...plus 5 points."
Lynn: "..."
Looking at Professor Snape's complex expression of "I'm about to vomit but it's somehow satisfying," he couldn't help but wonder to himself.
Does Snape have... masochistic tendencies?
The evidence was ample—he actually gave me points!
After class, Lynn strolled into the Great Hall.
The lively bustle and the aroma of food greeted him. Lynn was in a good mood, ready to see what cuisine the House-elves had prepared today.
He walked casually along the long tables, his gaze sweeping over the Slytherin table. Suddenly, he seemed to catch a glimpse of an uncoordinated patch of white.
Not sure, let's look again.
Lynn stopped and looked closely.
He saw Malfoy sitting near the front of the Slytherin table, his face a bit pale. Even more striking was his arm, which was suspended in a sling against his chest, the bandages clearly visible.
"Malfoy?" Lynn walked over and sat in the empty seat next to him, pointing curiously at his arm. "What happened to your arm? Did you fall during Quidditch practice?"
He remembered Malfoy was the Slytherin seeker; it wouldn't be strange to get injured during training.
Malfoy had subconsciously wanted to lower his head and pretend not to see Lynn when he entered the Great Hall, but unfortunately, he was a step too late.
Now, being asked by Lynn, a flash of embarrassment crossed his face. He remembered Lynn's "prophecy" after Divination Class yesterday—stay away from sharp-beaked animals.
Merlin! This guy really can do divination! Malfoy muttered to himself.
"...It's nothing. During Care of Magical Creatures class, I was injured by a beast... a Hippogriff named Buckbeak." He almost habitually said "beast," but changed his wording at the last second, remembering that Lynn seemed to like magical creatures.
"Care of Magical Creatures?" Lynn was somewhat surprised. "That shouldn't be. I've interacted with Buckbeak; he's quite polite. How did you provoke him?"
Malfoy was left speechless by the question. Was he supposed to say that he thought it looked stupid at the time and, wanting to show off, didn't follow the etiquette Hagrid instructed, but instead made a provocative gesture? As a result, he was knocked to the ground by one of Buckbeak's talons, his arm hit a rock, and it hurt so much he almost cried right then?
That was too embarrassing!
He mumbled vaguely, "Who knows..."
Then he immediately changed the subject. "Your tea leaf prophecy was actually quite 'accurate.' A sharp-beaked animal... a Hippogriff's beak is sharp enough, isn't it?"
Lynn was amused upon hearing this, having more or less guessed the reason for Malfoy's injury.
Malfoy huffed twice and stopped talking.
He had originally made up his mind to write to his father as soon as he returned to the dormitory, adding fuel to the fire as he described this "dangerous, crazy, student-attacking" monster. He would insist his father use his influence to get rid of it, and ideally get that half-giant Hagrid kicked out as well.
But now, hearing Lynn say "Buckbeak is quite friendly, I actually quite like him," Malfoy instantly changed his mind.
That's right! This Buckbeak is "good"! Doesn't this create a perfect topic for a deep conversation?
Lunchtime was still long. Malfoy felt that today's arm injury seemed... not entirely without value.
At least the conversation between him and Lynn was much more natural than before.