Chapter 40: The Return of Spark and Orange Cake from the Ministry of Magic
On the morning of July 15th, London was shrouded in a grey, rainy mist, the air sticky and cold. In a secluded alley near King's Cross Station, rain tapped against the glass roof of an abandoned telephone booth. Lynn, dressed in a neatly ironed dark green robe (Aunt Monica had altered Uncle Wendell's old robe overnight), looked even paler in the gloomy weather. Hermione clung to him, holding a large umbrella, her other hand firmly gripping his wrist, as if fearing he would be taken away by Ministry of Magic officials at any moment. She wore her best brown school robe, modified into a long dress, her hair meticulously combed, but her eyes were like taut bowstrings, full of vigilance.
The time pointed to 9:50 AM. Steady footsteps echoed from the alley entrance. Dumbledore's tall figure appeared in the rain. His silver-white beard and hair were still striking against the dull sky, and his azure eyes behind his half-moon spectacles swept over the two children, who were standing ready, bringing a deep sense of reassurance.
"Good morning, children," his voice was gentle, dispelling some of the gloom of the rainy day, "It seems we'll have to use the Ministry of Magic's special entrance." He walked to the dilapidated red telephone booth, picked up the receiver, and clearly stated: "Ministry of Magic."
A dull mechanical whirring sound came from inside the telephone booth, and it slowly began to descend! Hermione instinctively clutched Lynn's arm, while Lynn, in turn, covered her hand with his, his fingertips cold but possessing an undeniable steady strength. The sensation of descending lasted for several tens of seconds. When the shaking stopped, the telephone booth door automatically slid open, revealing an astonishing sight—
A vast, dizzying underground atrium appeared before them! The peacock blue ceiling soared into the "clouds," embedded with shimmering golden runes, like a real magical starry sky. The dark wooden walls were covered with constantly moving, whispering magical portraits. Wizards in various robes hurried about, traversing the polished, mirror-like black marble floor. Green flames occasionally erupted from fireplaces, spitting out one hurried figure after another. The air was filled with the scent of parchment, Floo powder, and a cold, unique aroma of a place of power.
"The Department of Mysteries is on the ninth floor," Dumbledore said calmly, as if merely giving them a tour of an ordinary museum. He led them through the crowded and noisy atrium, ignoring the curious, scrutinizing, or implicitly hostile glances cast their way, and walked towards a row of golden lifts.
The lift interior was narrow, and the golden grille door made a crisp click as it closed. A cold female voice announced: "Ninth floor, Department of Mysteries. Authorized personnel only." The lift shot upwards abruptly, at an extremely fast speed, causing a brief sensation of weightlessness. Hermionefelt Lynn's fingers on the back of her hand tighten slightly.
The corridor on the ninth floor was starkly different from the clamor of the atrium below. The dark grey stone walls were cold and solemn, the light dim, with only a few faintly burning blue torches spaced far apart on the walls. The air was exceptionally quiet, with only the footsteps of the three of them echoing in the empty corridor, carrying a suffocating sense of oppression. On both sides of the corridor were countless identical, unmarked black wooden doors, from whose cracks emanated an indescribable chill and a whispering energy fluctuation, as if the deepest secrets of the universe were hidden behind them.
The door to Hearing Room Number Seven slid open silently. The room was not large, circular, with walls of unfathomable black, as if they absorbed light. In the center, a cold metal table and three chairs of the same material stood isolated. At the other end of the table sat three people.
In the middle was a serious-looking Witch with a meticulously styled grey bun. She wore a deep purple robe with gold trim, her sharp gaze like a searchlight, instantly locking onto Lynn as he entered. Pinned to her chest was a badge symbolizing the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—Amelia Bones. To her left was a short, stout Wizard with a small mustache and a falsely friendly smile—Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge. To Fudge's right was a pale-faced, shifty-eyed Wizard, like a startled mouse—Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, wearing a pink bow and an uncomfortably sickly sweet smile.
The air in the room seemed to solidify into ice. An invisible pressure, like a tangible wall, pressed in on them.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Bones's voice was like cold metal scraping, without any pleasantries, "Please sit. Is this Mr. Lynn Evans?" Her gaze fell sharply on Lynn, with undisguised scrutiny and assessment, "And… Miss Granger?" She looked at Hermione, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, clearly surprised by the presence of an underage witness.
"Director Bones, Minister Fudge." Dumbledore nodded slightly, calmly taking a seat in the chair opposite Lynn, his posture as relaxed as if he were having afternoon tea. "Yes, this is Lynn Evans. As a direct participant and key witness to the incident, I believe Miss Granger's presence is crucial to clarifying the truth. Of course, I will act as Mr. Lynn's temporary guardian and oversee the questioning process." His words were calm, yet carried an undeniable weight, deftly addressing Hermione's age and emphasizing her criticality.
Fudge's smile stiffened for a moment. He cleared his throat, trying to speak in a more diplomatic tone: "Ah, of course, of course! Welcome, children! Don't be nervous, we're just following procedure, gathering some information…" His words were cut short by a cold glare from Bones.
"Mr. Evans," Bones ignored Fudge, her gaze firmly fixed on Lynn, getting straight to the point, "Please describe in detail your encounter with Professor Quirrell and the remnant soul of Lord Voldemort, who was possessing him, during the final stages of the Philosopher's Stone protection incident at Hogwarts. Specifically, explain the 'special power' you used—the power capable of resisting the Killing Curse, calming Cerberus, and even being labeled a 'child of the stars' by Quirrell—its origin, nature, and your degree of control over it."
The questions were like cold daggers, striking at the core! Fudge's and Umbridge's gazes also instantly focused on Lynn, one with probing greed, the other with deep apprehension hidden beneath false concern.
Lynn met Bones's sharp gaze, his eyes calm and unwavering, neither dodging nor showing anger. His hand, placed under the table, was tightly clasped by Hermione's cold but exceptionally firm hand. Her fingertips gently traced his palm, conveying silent support: Don't be afraid, I'm here.
"Professor Quirrell was possessed by Lord Voldemort," Lynn began, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear, carrying a strange penetrating power that echoed in the cold room, "He tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone. We—Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and I—entered the underground protective chambers to stop him." His narrative was extremely concise, like presenting a laboratory report, focusing only on key points: encountering Quirrell (Lord Voldemort), the Killing Curseattack, the passive activation of the star stone for defense, and the escape of Lord Voldemort's remnant soul.
When he mentioned the star stone, he raised his hand and gently pulled open the collar of his robe, revealing the hideous, charred scar on his neck, as if torn by lightning, its edges still showing spiderweb-like dark red cracks! The wound was exposed to the cold air, silently narrating the brutal cost of that night.
Bones's gaze lingered on the shocking scar for a few seconds; a faint ripple seemed to pass through the depths of her cold eyes. Fudge gasped, instinctively recoiling. Umbridge, meanwhile, rapidly scribbled on parchment with her quill, the sickly sweet smile on her face stiffening for a moment.
"The star stone," Lynn said, lowering his collar to cover the scar, his voice still steady, "is an item I stumbled upon while at Chestnut House. I don't know its exact origin, only that it can passively respond to my will, especially providing limited protection in moments of crisis. Its power requires the consumption of my life force as a price, and it's extremely unstable. After that time..." He spread his hand, palm up, and his fingertips moved slightly, attempting to conjure the faintest glimmer. However, only an extremely weak, candle-like silver light flickered for a moment at his fingertips before instantly extinguishing, as if it had never existed. His face seemed a shade paler, and his breathing quickened slightly. "...As you can see."
Silence. Icy silence.
Bones's sharp gaze scrutinized Lynn, as if to pierce his skin and look directly into the essence of his soul. Lynn met her gaze calmly, his eyes as serene as an ancient well.
"Director Bones!" Hermione could no longer hold back, her voice trembling slightly with excitement and anger, yet exceptionally clear, "Lynn is telling the truth! Quirrell was a victim controlled by Lord Voldemort! Lynn only passively activated the power of the star stone at a critical moment to protect all of us! For this, he almost paid with his life, and his magic was severely damaged! He is a hero! Is it fair for the Ministry of Magic not to pursue Lord Voldemort's whereabouts, but instead to question him here?!"
"Miss Granger," Bones's gaze turned to Hermione, with scrutiny, "We will record your testimony. But the title of 'hero' is not determined by personal emotion. What we need are verifiable facts and a clear definition of the nature of the power." Her tone remained cold, but seemed less aggressive, "Regarding the star stone, do you have any more information to add? Such as its magical fluctuation characteristics? Or the resonance you felt?"
Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down: "moon-white stone." She took out the warm white stone from around her neck, "This is my moon-white stone. When I first met Lynn on the Hogwarts Express, they resonated. I can feel that the moon-white stone seems to... soothe the star stone's power fluctuations. During the protection incident, this resonance seemed to be amplified, especially when we..." She paused, her cheeks slightly flushed, but her tone was firm, "...were close. But this is just my feeling, it cannot be quantified."
Her action of displaying the moon-white stone and her description of "resonance" made Fudge and Umbridge exchange a glance. Bones, however, looked thoughtfully at the warm stone.
"Resonance? Soothe?" Umbridge suddenly spoke in her sickly sweet, syrupy voice, a fake smile on her face, "How... interesting, dear. It sounds like some kind of... unregistered magical connection? Perhaps even involving... soul-level influence?" Her words were like sugar-coated poison darts, full of malicious insinuation.
"Undersecretary Umbridge!" Headmaster Dumbledore's voice for the first time carried a clear chill, like cracking ice, "Baseless speculation and innuendo are not the purpose of an inquiry. Miss Granger is describing an objectively existing magical phenomenon, completely unrelated to soul magic. I suggest we focus on the facts themselves."
Headmaster Dumbledore's aura instantly overwhelmed Umbridge. Her fake smile froze, and she sullenly closed her mouth.
Bones was silent for a moment, tapping her fingertips lightly on the table, seemingly weighing her options. In the cold room, only the ticking sound of her fingertips remained, like a countdown.
Finally, she looked up, her gaze falling on Lynn again: "Mr. Evans, the Ministry of Magic will conduct a preliminary, non-contact magical fluctuation scan and record of your star stone, to be documented as a potentially anomalous magical item. At the same time, given your current physical condition and the instability of your power, as well as your status as an underage Wizard, the Ministry of Magic requires you to submit a magical recovery status report quarterly to the Hogwarts Hospital Wing for the next year, signed by Madam Pomfrey. Until you have fully recovered, you are forbidden from attempting any magic beyond basic spell level outside Hogwarts, or without the supervision of an adult Wizard. Do you understand and accept?"
This was not an acquittal, but rather a form of strict monitoring and restriction. But compared to worse outcomes, this was a significant concession. Fudge seemed about to say something, but was stopped by a look from Bones.
Lynn was silent for a few seconds, meeting Bones's scrutinizing gaze, and clearly replied: "I accept."
"Very well." Bones closed the parchment file in front of her, making a slight sound, signaling the end of the inquiry. "You may leave."
Stepping out of that cold, heavy black door and back onto the dimly lit, oppressive corridor of the ninth floor, Hermione let out a long, silent sigh of relief, as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted. She then realized she was holding Lynn's hand, her palm slick with cold sweat. Lynn's fingers were still icy, but he gently squeezed her hand in return.
Headmaster Dumbledore walked ahead, his pace unhurried. The golden grille door of the lift closed again, carrying them downwards. When the lift doors opened again, returning them to the bustling, lively atrium of the Ministry of Magic, Hermione felt a sense of having been in another world. The sound of the fireplace flames, the chatter of Wizards, the hooting of owls... these noisy sounds now seemed incredibly comforting.
"The handling was... restrained," Headmaster Dumbledore stopped by the fountain in the atrium, looking at Lynn, his sapphire blue eyes deep with meaning, "Bones is a principled person, though her principles sometimes seem cold. Fudge..." He shook his head slightly, "Fear makes him shortsighted. You need to be cautious in the coming year."
Lynn nodded: "I understand. Thank you, Principal."
"As for you, Miss Granger," Headmaster Dumbledore turned to Hermione, his eyes filled with admiration, "Your courage and clear logic are impressive." He winked mischievously, "Especially that line, 'He is a hero,' it was very impactful."
Hermione's face instantly turned red, and she lowered her head shyly.
"Alright," Headmaster Dumbledore smiled, "I think you two need a little sunshine. I won't see you out. Remember, Hogwarts will always be your backing." He waved his hand and turned, disappearing into the green flames rising from a fireplace.
Leaving the cold Ministry of Magic and standing once again under the grey, rainy London sky, Hermionefelt as if the sun had pierced through the clouds and shone into her heart. She held Lynn's hand, not heading towards the subway station, but turning into the familiar bakery on the street corner, where the rich sweet scent wafted out.
"Boss! Two chocolate croissants! With double chocolate sauce!" Hermione's voice carried the lightness of someone who had survived a close call.
The bakery owner, a kind, bald old man, smiled and put two golden-brown, crispy croissants, drizzled with rich chocolate sauce, into a paper bag: "Here you go, little Hermione! And your friend! Today's bread has a little extra 'sunshine magic,' guaranteed to dispel all gloom!"
Hermione took the warm paper bag, eagerly broke off a piece of chocolate-covered croissant, stood on tiptoe, and offered it to Lynn's mouth, her eyes shining like stars: "Quick, try it! To celebrate our triumph!"
Lynn lowered his head and, taking it from her hand, took a bite. The crispy crust shattered, and the warm, lava-like chocolate sauce flowed across his tongue, the rich sweetness instantly spreading. That subtle, almost imperceptible warmth from the euphoriant rose from his stomach again, dispelling the last trace of chill from the Ministry of Magic.
"Mmm," He looked at Hermione's expectant eyes, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards in an extremely subtle, yet undeniably real, clear arc, "It's very sweet."
The rain still fell, dampening pedestrians' umbrellas and the street. But under the warm eaves of the bakery, amidst the sweet aroma of chocolate croissants, in the girl's bright smile and the real warmth in his palm, the star stone in Lynn's chest, through his clothes, sent a clear and warm throb. That throb was no longer the cold sting of a warning, but like a tiny spark ignited, steady, warm, carrying a vitality he had never felt before. He turned his hand, gripping Hermione's hand tighter.
The gloom would eventually dissipate, and some light, beneath the cold star scars, was quietly spreading like wildfire.
Chapter 41: The Shadow of the House-Elves and the Protection of the Orange Cake
Returning to the Granger Family, the warm light of the hallway and the aroma of roast chicken instantly enveloped them, like an invisible healing barrier.
Aunt Monica immediately came forward, her gaze eagerly sweeping over the faces of the two children.
Only when she saw that they were tired but otherwise unharmed, especially Lynn's rare, not yet fully faded gentle smile, did she let out a long sigh of relief.
"Everything's fine, Mom," Hermione answered first, her voice light with the relief of a narrow escape.
"The Ministry of Magic... we cleared things up, it's fine!"
She deliberately omitted the cold surveillance terms and scrutinizing gazes.
Wendell also put down his newspaper and came over to pat Lynn's shoulder firmly (still carefully avoiding his chest): "Good job, son!
I knew they had no reason to cause trouble!
Go wash your hands, dinner's ready, Aunt Monica made your favorite meat lasagna!"
The atmosphere at dinner was more relaxed than in the past few days.
Hermione vividly described (omitting the tense and dangerous parts) the grand atrium and elevators of the Ministry of Magic, eliciting continuous exclamations from Wendell and Aunt Monica.
Lynn ate quietly, occasionally a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips at Wendell's jokes or Hermione's exaggerated gestures.
The star stone under his clothes continued to emit a warm, steady pulsation, a little clearer than it had been at the Ministry of Magic.
After dinner, Hermione didn't immediately pull Lynn away to discuss potions or read books as usual.
She mysteriously brought out a plate from the refrigerator, covered with a glass dome—it was Aunt Monica's signature orange cake!
The cake was fluffy and golden, adorned with glistening candied orange peel, emitting a fresh and enticing sweet aroma.
"Strategic reserves!" Hermione announced, her eyes sparkling, "To celebrate our victorious return!
Half for each of us!"
She carefully divided the cake in half, pushing the slightly larger piece in front of Lynn, while she took a small fork and, cherishing it, picked up a small piece and put it into her mouth, her eyes narrowing in satisfaction.
Lynn looked at the cake in front of him, radiating sunshine-like color and aroma, then at the girl's slightly puffed cheeks opposite him, a strange, comforting warmth slowly spreading through his heart.
He picked up his fork and took a piece.
The sweet orange fruitiness bloomed on his tongue, mixed with the soft cake and just the right amount of frosting, like concentrated summer sunshine, dispelling the last trace of lingering chill deep within his body.
"Is it good?" Hermione asked indistinctly, her fork still in her mouth, her brown eyes looking at him expectantly.
"Mm," Lynn nodded, his gaze falling on the corner of her lips, which had a bit of frosting on them, "It's very sweet."
The rain outside had stopped at some point, and the cool moonlight streamed through the window onto the dining table, blending with the warm yellow lamplight.
The two quietly shared the cake, the air filled with the sweet scent of oranges and an unspoken, quiet understanding.
The peace and sweetness of this moment soothed tense nerves more than any potion.
---
In the days that followed, the shadow of the Ministry of Magic seemed truly dispelled by the sweet aroma of orange cake and the warmth of the Granger Family.
Lynn's body entered a stable period of recovery.
The charred scar on his chest faded in color, and the spiderweb-like cracks also converged significantly, leaving only pale pink marks.
The most gratifying change came from his depleted magic source.
With Hermione's tireless "mental guidance" and the aid of improved potions, an extremely faint but real trickle finally began to emerge from the depths of that silent desert.
At first, it was just a faint silver glow, the size of a grain of rice, occasionally condensing on his fingertips and then extinguishing.
A few days later, he could make a quill move very slowly a few inches across the table.
Each small improvement made Hermione as excited as if she had discovered a new continent, her eyes shining astonishingly.
"Look! It moved another centimeter!" She leaned over the desk, precisely measuring the distance the quill moved with a Muggle ruler, neatly writing down the data in her notebook, "The combination of lavender and chamomile is indeed effective!
The intensity of the mental guidance has also increased by 0.3 standard units!"
Her so-called "standard units" were vague indicators she set herself based on Lynn's description of "concentration of intent."
Lynn watched her serious profile, her fluffy curls falling down, swaying gently with her writing movements.
He didn't expose the unscientific nature of her "standard units," but merely cooperated by sensing the faint but steadily flowing magic within him, like a clear spring seeping anew from beneath a dry riverbed.
The star stone resonated with a steady warmth, as if also rejoicing in this slow recovery.
"Try this!" Hermione presented a small crystal bottle, wrapped in silver thread, as if offering a treasure.
Inside, a pale golden liquid shimmered, refracting tiny halos in the sunlight.
"Formula Three! It contains a trace (legal!) of diluted Phoenix tears!
Madam Pomfrey sent it by owl!
She said it might have a miraculous effect on deep magical trauma!"
Lynn took the bottle.
The crystal bottle felt warm to the touch, and the liquid inside emitted a pure and warm aura.
He uncorked the bottle and drank it.
The liquid slid down his throat, without strong irritation, but brought an indescribable sense of comfort, as if immersed in warm sunshine.
A warm and powerful force instantly permeated his limbs, gently flushing out the subtle blockages in his magical circuits.
He clearly felt that the faint trickle of magic within him seemed to have been injected with vitality, its flow rate quickening slightly and becoming more condensed.
"How is it?" Hermione anxiously observed his expression.
Lynn closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly opened them, looking at her expectant eyes, and clearly uttered two words: "It's effective."
He even actively extended his finger, and with a slight movement of his will, a silver glow, brighter and more stable than before, instantly lit up at his fingertip, lasting a full three seconds before slowly extinguishing!
"That's great!" Hermione was so excited she almost jumped up, grabbing Lynn's wrist, feeling the faint magical fluctuations remaining on his fingertip, her face beaming with immense joy and accomplishment, "I knew it!
Phoenix tears!
Headmaster Dumbledore is truly great!"
Lynn's gaze fell on her hand gripping his wrist, feeling the warmth from her fingertips and her pure joy.
He didn't withdraw his hand, but quietly absorbed the genuine warmth and strength she brought.
The afternoon sun filtered through the apple tree branches, casting dancing light patterns on the study's wooden floor.
Hermione sat at her desk, concentrating on writing a reply to Harry and Ron, recounting her summer routine (omitting the Ministry of Magic part), complaining about boring holiday homework, and asking about interesting things at the Weasley's.
The quill scratched across the parchment, making a soft rustling sound.
Lynn, meanwhile, sat on the armchair by the window, holding an old, heavily worn book he had brought from Chestnut House—"Basic Star Atlas" (a Muggle introductory astronomy book).
His gaze appeared to be on the pages, but his mind was actually immersed within, carefully sensing the slightly more active flow of magic, catalyzed by Formula Three.
It traversed the dried-up circuits with difficulty yet stubbornly, like a trickle carving through ice.
Each cycle seemed to bring a faint but real sense of nourishment, and the warmth of the star stoneresonated with it.
Just then—
An extremely faint but strongly distorted magical fluctuation, like a stone thrown into a calm lake, suddenly shattered the tranquility of the study!
This fluctuation did not come from outside; it was more like... appearing out of thin air inside the room!
Carrying an aura of panic and desperation!
Lynn suddenly looked up!
Hermione also stopped writing, frowning in confusion: "What was that sound?"
Almost at the same moment the two noticed the anomaly, the air less than a foot above Lynn's desk was violently torn open as if by an invisible hand!
A piercing "rip" sound, like fabric being forcibly torn, rang out!
Space distorted and fluctuated violently!
Immediately after, a small, slender figure, dressed in clothes like a ragged pillowcase, was violently thrown out as if by an invisible giant hand, accompanied by a shriek of terror that warped his voice, and crashed headfirst onto the desk in front of Lynn!
"Bang—crash!"
The books, ink bottles, Hermione's carefully prepared potion test tubes, and the half-eaten orange cakeon the desk... were instantly smashed into a mess!
The ink bottle shattered, black ink spreading like venomous snakes; glass test tubes broke, various potions mixed and flowed; the cake was utterly ruined, golden cake and white cream mixed with ink and potions, smeared all over the desktop and the suddenly appearing small creature!
"Dobby!" A sharp, painful, and terrified cry erupted from the small creature lying in the wreckage.
It was a House-elf!
He had large green eyes the size of tennis balls and large, bat-like ears, now covered in ink and cream, making him look comical and disheveled.
His scrawny body trembled violently from extreme fear, struggling to get up, but slipped on the sticky cake and ink, becoming even more pathetic.
Hermione was stunned by the sudden turn of events, letting out a short gasp, her quill falling to the floor.
Lynn's reaction, however, was incredibly fast!
In the instant space tore, in the flash of lightning between the House-elf crashing into the desk, knocking over the ink bottle and sharp glass test tubes, he instinctively, desperately, mobilized the trace of magic that had just become active within him!
Buzz!
An extremely thin but instantly condensed silver glow, like the toughest protective film, suddenly unfolded less than half a foot in front of Hermione!
Splat! Crash!
Splashing ink and glass shards fiercely impacted the silver glow, all blocked!
The black ink splattered on the surface of the glow, like ugly fireworks, but could not penetrate an inch, finally sliding down powerlessly.
Hermione was unharmed!
She merely took a step back, covering her mouth, startled by the sudden explosion of events before her.
And Lynn, the moment he forcibly activated that faint magic to form the protection, his face suddenly turned ashen white!
A tearing pain shot through the freshly healed scar on his chest!
It was as if a giant rock had been forcibly shoved into a river channel that had just been cleared a little!
He let out a muffled groan, his body swayed, and he gripped the sofa armrest tightly with one hand to keep from collapsing, fine cold sweat instantly breaking out on his forehead, his breathing becoming rapid and difficult.
The star stone under his clothes pulsed violently, with a burning sensation, like an overload warning!
"Lynn!" Hermione's gasp immediately turned from shock to immense fear and concern!
She ignored the messy desk and the strange House-elf, immediately rushing to his side, supporting his swaying body, "Are you okay?!
Is it a magical backlash?!
Don't scare me!"
Lynn gasped rapidly, forcibly suppressing the surge of blood in his throat, and shook his head with difficulty, his gaze, however, cold and sharp, darting towards the terrified House-elf, Dobby, by the desk, who was struggling to get up, covered in filth!
Dobby finally managed to struggle out of the mixture of ink and cake and stand up, his huge green eyes filled with tears, fear, and a near-desperate guilt.
He looked at the messy desk, then at Lynn, pale-faced and clearly injured because of him, supported by Hermione, and then at the slowly dissipating silver glow barrier, still stained with ink, in front of Hermione.
"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" He suddenly let out a shrill cry and began to furiously bang his head against the edge of the still-intact bookcase nearby!
"Dobby hurt the esteemed child of the stars!
Dobby almost killed the great Harry Potter's friend!
Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby must punish himself!"
The thudding sounds of his head hitting the bookcase echoed in the study, chilling to the heart.
"Stop!" Hermione, both startled and angry, snapped, "Who are you?
What do you want?!"
Dobby, startled by her sharp command, stopped his self-harm, shrinking into a ball, his huge green eyes looking at them in terror, tears mixing with ink and cream flowing down: "Dobby... Dobby is Harry Potter's friend!
Dobby must come to warn!
Hogwarts! Hogwarts is in terrible danger this year!
Harry Potter must not go back!
You... you must not go back either!"
He spoke incoherently, his voice shrill and trembling, "There's a plot!
Ancient evil!
People will die!
Many people will die!"
"Danger? What danger? Explain yourself!" Hermione pressed, while anxiously helping Lynn sit down, quickly checking the injury on his chest.
Under the bandage, the pale pink scar seemed to faintly show an ominous dark red again.
Dobby, however, shrank into an even more terrified ball, shaking his head frantically: "Dobby cannot say!
Dobby is forbidden... Dobby can only warn!
Harry Potter must not go to Hogwarts!
You... you must also be careful!"
His huge green eyes looked out the window in terror, as if something dreadful was pursuing him.
"Who forbade you? Who sent you?" Lynn's voice rang out, low and hoarse, with a coldness that suppressed pain.
His gaze was like a tangible blade, fixed on Dobby.
Dobby trembled all over, his gaze at Lynn filled with awe and deeper fear.
He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then suddenly covered his mouth, making muffled sounds.
He looked at Lynn in terror, then at Hermione, and suddenly seemed to make a decision.
"Remember Dobby's warning!
Danger!
Hogwarts is dangerous!" He let out a shrill shriek, suddenly jumped up, and snapped his filthy fingers loudly!
Pop!
A bang, as if the air had been squeezed!
Dobby's small figure instantly distorted and vanished from the spot!
Leaving behind only the mess in the study, the pungent mixed smell, and that warning echoing like a curse.
The study was utterly silent.
Broken glass, flowing ink, ruined cake, overturned books... like a ruin after a storm.
Hermione supported the pale Lynn, their gazes falling on the spot where Dobby disappeared, then slowly shifting to the clear sky outside the window.
Hogwarts in danger? Ancient evil?
Dobby's terrified, distorted face and his shrill warning, like a cold viper, coiled around their hearts, which had just found a moment of peace.
The sweet scent of orange cake also seemed to be completely covered by the pungent smell of ink and potions.
The star stone in Lynn's chest pulsed with a cold and heavy throb, like an ominous premonition.
Chapter 42: The Glimmer of Light in Diagon Alley and the Shadow of the Chamber of Secrets
The mess created by Dobby tearing through space had been cleaned up, but his warning, "Hogwarts is dangerous," was like ink seeping into wood grain, leaving an indelible mark beneath the calm surface of the Granger Family.
The star mark on Lynn's chest glowed a faint dark red after he forcefully activated his magic, and each breath brought a subtle sting.
The warmth emanating from the star stone also felt sluggish.
Hermione was almost inseparable from him.
She adjusted the potion formula, doubling the soothing components of lavender and chamomile, and cautiously increasing the frequency of diluted Phoenix tears.
Every morning, she would appear at Lynn's door with the warm potion, watching him drink it, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the moon-white stone around her neck, as if this action could share his pain.
Lynn cooperated silently, but his gaze always lingered on the faint dark circles under her eyes—marks left by late nights poring over "Cases of Rare Magical Injuries" and repeatedly calculating potion ratios.
"Feeling better?" This became Hermione's most frequent question, her voice hiding a cautious hope.
"Yes," Lynn's answer was always concise, but he would actively show her the faint silver glow, more stable than yesterday, coalescing at his fingertips, or make the quill on the table move an extra half-inch.
These small improvements were the light that instantly brightened Hermione's weary eyes.
August slipped towards its end amidst the scent of medicine, rustling book pages, and silent companionship.
Hogwarts' letter arrived as expected; besides the class schedule, the thick parchment envelope also contained a sternly worded notice: due to "special safety considerations," all second-year and above students were required to purchase basic Defense Against the Dark Arts protective gear before the start of term.
The list included items never previously mandatory, such as "Dragon-hide protective gloves" and "Anti-Hex heart shields."
"Look at this!" Hermione pointed at the list, her brow furrowed, "Protective gear... What is the Ministry of Magic worried about? Or is Hogwarts really..." She didn't finish, her gaze turning to Lynn, filled with a seeking anxiety.
Dobby's warning and this list fit together like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces.
Lynn's fingertip traced the cold words "heart shield," and the star mark on his chest seemed to be pricked by the word, throbbing faintly.
He knew better than anyone the meaning behind this list—the Chamber of Secrets was about to open, and the Basilisk's gaze was deadly.
But at this moment, he could only lower his eyelashes, concealing the heaviness in his eyes: "It's always good to be fully prepared."
---
The day they returned to Diagon Alley, London was uncharacteristically clear.
The sunlight dispelled days of gloom, but the bustling crowds and colorful shop windows couldn't completely ease the tension in Hermione's heart.
She clung tightly to Lynn, as if the surging crowd could sweep him away at any moment.
Wendell and Monica followed behind, pushing a shopping cart, their eyes occasionally sweeping worriedly over Lynn's still-pale profile.
The entrance to Flourish and Blotts was packed, with a huge, garish banner hanging: "Gilderoy Lockhart Book Signing! Lock Up Your Heart!" In the center of the crowd, the man in a forget-me-not blue robe, flashing a dazzling white smile, posed like a preening peacock, flashbulbs popping.
"merlin's beard... it really is him!" Hermione gasped, her voice a mix of disbelief and a hint of barely perceptible budding admiration.
Her satchel still contained Lockhart's "Break with a Banshee," its pages filled with notes marking key spells.
Lynn watched Lockhart's flamboyant performance, his lips almost imperceptibly turning down.
He knew the true nature of this "Defense Against the Dark Arts master"—a charlatan who built his reputation by stealing others' adventures and using Memory Charms.
But his silence at this moment was misinterpreted by Hermione as discomfort.
"Is it too crowded, are you uncomfortable?" She immediately grasped Lynn's wrist nervously; the pulse beneath her fingertips slightly reassured her.
"Let's go around here and buy the protective gear first!"
Just as they turned to leave, a familiar, surprised voice cut through the clamor: "Hermione! Lynn!"
Harry Potter squeezed through the crowd, his emerald eyes sparkling behind his round glasses, followed closely by the fiery-haired Ron, whose face glowed with the excitement of returning home.
"Are you two here to shop too?" Ron grinned, his gaze sweeping over the protective gear list in Hermione's hand, and he made a face, "Merlin, this list is scarier than the Christmas sweater list my mum makes!
Fred and George say it's definitely Lockhart's doing, just to sell more of his books..." He gestured with his chin towards Lockhart, who was being fawned over in the bookstore.
Harry, however, keenly noticed Lynn's unusual complexion and Hermione's protective stance, clinging to him.
His smile faded a bit, and he lowered his voice: "Lynn... are you alright?"
He still vividly remembered the horrific scene in the underground chamber before the summer holidays.
"Recovering," Lynn said concisely, his gaze sweeping over the lightning-bolt scar on Harry's forehead, hidden by his fringe.
The eye of the storm was already drawing near.
The Weasley family soon gathered around.
Molly enthusiastically hugged Hermione and Lynn, with such force that Lynn grunted, and the star mark on his chest throbbed.
She immediately released him, her freckled face full of concern: "Oh, dear! Arthur told me about those stupid... uh, those things at the Ministry of Magic! And your injury!
Let me see, Auntie Molly brought special Skele-Gro and calming potion..." She began rummaging through her huge, seemingly bottomless handbag.
The twins, Fred and George, peered out from behind their mother, grinning as they scrutinized Lynn.
"Heard you took a Killing Curse from You-Know-Who head-on?" Fred whistled, his eyes filled with genuine awe.
"Cool!" George interjected, magically pulling two oddly wrapped candies from his pocket, "Try some? 'Courage Nougat' experimental edition!
Guaranteed to make you feel like you can take on a Dragon temporarily—side effect might be green hair, minor issue!"
"Fred! George!" Molly snapped.
Lynn looked at the candies offered to him, then at the twins' cunning but kind eyes, and actually reached out to take them.
As their fingertips touched, George almost imperceptibly pressed Lynn's hand, whispering, "Mum said your magic was badly hurt... these candies have a bit of dittany essence to replenish magic, we stole... uh, borrowed Madam Pomfrey's recipe."
It was clumsy but sincere care, wrapped in a prankster's shell.
Hermione's tense lips finally curved into a faint smile.
Mr. Weasley, meanwhile, was excitedly pointing out the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, magically hidden across the street, to Wendell, explaining in great detail the "ingenious" reactions of Muggleobjects when enchanted; Wendell listened with keen interest.
This brief, lively hustle and bustle, like a ray of warm sunshine, pierced through the clouds hanging over Lynn and Hermione's hearts.
Hermione quietly relaxed the fingers that had been tightly gripping Lynn's wrist, instead gently hooking her pinky finger with his.
Lynn did not pull away; he felt her cool touch and slight tremor through their linked fingers.
The moon-white stone and star stone, beneath their clothes and separated by the crowd, transmitted a faint but synchronized warm pulsation.
The final highlight of their shopping was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Dark velvet curtains muffled the external noise, and the air was filled with the faint scent of new fabric and insect-repelling herbs.
Hermione was standing on a stool, allowing a floating magical pin to measure her for her new school robes.
The thick, dark green woolen fabric made her skin appear even fairer, and her bushy brown curls glowed warmly in the soft light.
Lynn sat quietly in an armchair in the corner, flipping through a copy of "Common Dark Arts Creatures and Basic Protection" (which Hermione insisted on buying).
But his gaze would always unconsciously drift over the edge of the book, landing on the figure on the stool.
She tilted her head slightly, cooperating with the pin's movements, her profile focused and gentle, occasionally frowning slightly at the pin's tiny prick, then quickly relaxing.
A strange, soft emotion, like honey dripping into clear water, slowly spread in his quiet heart.
The star stone seemed to sense this peaceful gaze, emitting a steady, warm ripple, and the faint pain in his chest also seemed to lessen a bit.
"A perfect fit, dear," Madam Malkin said, directing the fabric with her wand for a final adjustment to Hermione's shoulder line.
"The thickened material will withstand the cold winds of the Scottish Highlands, and the protective runes on the cuffs and collar are also woven in, capable of deflecting some basic hex splashes."
She turned to Lynn, "Young man, it's your turn."
Lynn put down his book and stood up.
When he stepped onto the stool and the cold metal tape measure automatically wrapped around him to take measurements, Hermione, unlike her usual self, did not immediately go to look at her newly bought "A Year with the Tibetan Yeti."
Instead, she stood to the side, clutching her book, her gaze intently following the tape measure's movements, as if the cold tool might hurt him.
When the tape measure tightened around his chest, her breath visibly hitched for a moment, her fingers unconsciously clenching the book pages, until the tape measure loosened and she confirmed his expression was normal before quietly sighing in relief.
These subtle worries and protections, like invisible threads, enveloped Lynn.
He lowered his eyelids, feeling the warm, synchronized pulsation of the star stone beneath his clothes with her moon-white stone, a warm current called "peace of mind" quietly dispelling the chill brought by the shadow of the Chamber of Secrets.
Walking out of the robe shop, the setting sun painted the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley a warm orange-gold.
The Weasley family was still in the Eeylops Owl Emporium next door, choosing a birthday present for Percy, their lively chatter faintly audible.
Hermione, carrying the bag with her school robes, walked with a lighter step, turning to ask Lynn, "Do you want to go to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour? I heard they have a new raspberry nut crunch flavor..."
Before she finished speaking, a small figure suddenly darted out like a phantom from a dark alley filled with discarded wooden crates nearby! It was Dobby, the House-elf!
His tennis-ball-sized green eyes were bloodshot, filled with even more terror and despair than last time.
His bony hands clutched desperately at his tattered pillowcase-like clothes, his voice shrill like sandpaper rubbing, with a desperate wail:
"Bad Dobby has come again! Bad Dobby must warn! Danger!
Ancient evil breathes within the walls of Hogwarts! It is waiting... listening! Do not go back! Harry Potter must not go back! The child of the stars must not either! Many will die... many will die!"
His huge ears twitched nervously, and he suddenly slammed his head against the hard brick wall nearby! "Punish bad Dobby! Punish Dobby for saying too much!"
Bang! Bang! The dull thuds were horrifying!
"Stop! Dobby!" Hermione cried out in alarm, instinctively trying to rush over and stop him.
Lynn, however, pulled her wrist, not with great force, but with an undeniable restraint.
His icy gaze shot towards Dobby like a blade, piercing through the House-elf's hysterical performance, straight to the root of his deep-seated fear—the House of Malfoy.
He clearly saw the deeply etched "M" brand on Dobby's skin, revealed beneath his tattered sleeve as he hit the wall.
Dobby's movements froze abruptly under Lynn's gaze!
Green blood seeped from his bruised forehead, and his huge green eyes stared at Lynn in terror, like a frog caught by a snake.
He understood the silent warning in Lynn's eyes: Your master.
"Remember... remember Dobby's words!" Dobby let out a high-pitched, distorted whimper, and his green-blood-stained fingers suddenly snapped!
Snap!
After the soft crackle in the air, Dobby's figure instantly twisted and vanished, leaving only dust lingering in the depths of the alley and that echoing, curse-like phrase—
"The evil within the walls... is breathing!"
The warmth of the setting sun seemed to be instantly drained, and a cold dread crept up Hermione's spine.
Her hand trembled slightly, gripping Lynn's hand tightly, as if it were the only piece of driftwood.
Lynn pulled her closer, shielding the dark alley with his body.
He looked up towards the direction of the unseen ancient Castle at the end of Diagon Alley, his gaze as heavy as iron.
The star stone in his chest emitted a cold, heavy throb, like an omen of snake scales rubbing against stone walls from deep underground.
Within the walls of Hogwarts, the door to the Chamber of Secrets was already loosening.
Chapter 43: Star Marks Under the Robe and the Secret Chamber
The alley where Dobby vanished was left with only the pungent mixed scent of ink and cake, and the curse, "The evil within the walls is breathing," echoing in the chilly air. Hermione's hand trembled slightly in Lynn's, her fingertips cold. He subtly pulled her closer, shielding the dark alley with his body, his gaze, like tempered steel, fixed towards the direction of the invisible Castle at the end of Diagon Alley. The star stone in his chest gave a heavy, cold throb, like the omen of a Basilisk's scales scraping against stone deep underground.
"He… what did he mean by that last sentence?" Hermione's voice carried a suppressed fright, her fingers unconsciously tightening, almost digging into Lynn's arm. "The evil within the walls… what could be inside Hogwarts's walls?"
The star mark on Lynn's chest throbbed faintly after forcefully channeling magic, and the star stone's feedback was cold and erratic. He withdrew his gaze, letting it fall on Hermione's pale face, not directly answering the dangerous truth (the Basilisk, Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets), but only saying in a deep voice, "Danger does exist. Dobby's master… does not want Harry to go back, and does not want us to interfere." He deliberately emphasized "master," guiding her thoughts.
Hermione's brown eyes sharply narrowed. Connecting this to the deeply etched 'M' brand under Dobby's tattered sleeve, a cold name was on the tip of her tongue: "Malfoy! Lucius Malfoy ordered him! Is he afraid Harry… or afraid we'll find something out?" The logical chain rapidly pieced together in her mind, temporarily suppressing her fear.
"Mm." Lynn tacitly acknowledged her inference. "So, protective gear," he tapped the list in Hermione's hand that included "dragonhide protective gloves" and "anti-jinx breastplate," "must be complete." He knew better than anyone what the Basilisk's gaze meant.
Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and gripped Lynn's wrist tighter. "Let's go to Madam Malkin's first! You need that robe with protective enchantments!" Her tone regained its usual methodicalness, as if making a battle plan could dispel her inner unease.
Inside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, it was warm and dry. Dark velvet curtains blocked out the outside noise, and the air carried a faint scent of new fabric and moth-repelling herbs. Lynn stood on a stool, and a cold metal tape measure automatically wrapped around him, taking his measurements. When the tape measure tightened over his chest, a subtle, sharp pain from the magic backlash made him imperceptibly frown.
Hermione, who had been watching him closely, immediately caught this tiny change. "Be careful!" she instinctively gasped, taking half a step forward, her hand already raised, as if to ward off the invisible tape measure for him.
Madam Malkin looked at her with some surprise, then gently explained, "Don't worry, dear, it's just measuring, it won't touch the wound."
Hermione's face flushed, and she awkwardly lowered her hand, but her gaze remained fixed on Lynn, with unconcealed tension. Lynn lowered his eyes to meet her gaze, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, signaling that he was fine. The moon-white stone on her neck gave a warm, soothing throb, strangely calming her instantly heightened heart.
"Thick Scottish Highlands tweed," Madam Malkin directed a bolt of dark green, thick, and tough fabric to float over with her wand. "It can effectively resist the cold winds of the Scottish Highlands and the splash energy of low-level hexes. The cuffs and collar," her wand tip glowed faintly, tracing intricate and hidden silver runes along the fabric's edges, "will be woven with 'stabilizing' and 'deflecting' protective enchantments, providing a slight resistance bonus against petrification magic." She specifically glanced at the faint outline of bandages under Lynn's school robe on his chest.
"Thank you, Madam," Hermione said gratefully, carefully examining the subtly shimmering silver runes, as if they were another amulet for Lynn.
When it was Hermione's turn to be measured, she stood on the stool. The dark green, thick tweed made her complexion appear even fairer. Lynn sat in an armchair in the corner, holding *Common Dark Arts Creatures and Basic Protection*, which Hermione had just bought, but his gaze drifted over the edge of the book, falling on her. She tilted her head slightly to cooperate with the tape measure, her profile lines focused and gentle, her fluffy brown curly hair glowing with a warm halo under the soft light. A strange, soft emotion, like honey dripping into clear water, slowly spread in his quiet heart. The star stone, as if sensing this peaceful gaze, sent a steady, warm ripple, and the faint pain in his chest seemed to lessen a bit.
Just then, an extremely faint but strongly distorted dark fluctuation, like a stone thrown into a tranquil lake, suddenly penetrated the warm barrier of the robe shop and swept over Lynn!
Lynn's body instantly tensed! The star stone under his clothes sent a sharp, cold, stinging warning! This fluctuation was chilling, slippery, and carried a seductive malice—it was Tom Riddle's diary! It was nearby, and it had been activated!
He abruptly looked up, his sharp gaze like a physical probe, instantly piercing through the gaps in the curtains and locking onto a red-haired figure in the bustling crowd on the street outside—Ginny Weasley! She was tightly clutching a worn, black-covered diary, her face unusually pale, her eyes somewhat vacant, being pushed forward by the excited Weasley twins. The dark aura of the diary was subtly coiling around her!
"What's wrong?" Hermione immediately noticed the change in his aura and followed his gaze, only seeing the boisterous backs of The Weasley family. "Is it Ron and them?"
"…Mm." Lynn forcibly suppressed the surging emotions and the urge to immediately destroy that diary, withdrawing his gaze. The timing was wrong, and the location was even more wrong. He looked at Hermione, his voice low: "Keep an eye on that red-haired girl, Ginny Weasley. She might… be affected by something." He could only give the most cryptic warning.
Hermione frowned in confusion, carefully looking in the direction where Ginny disappeared, and nodded solemnly: "I'll remember that." She had an almost instinctive trust in Lynn's judgment.
Stepping out of the robe shop, the lingering sunset dyed the flagstone path a warm orange-gold. Hermione carried the bag with her school robe in one hand, and with the other, she naturally hooked Lynn's pinky finger again, as if this was the safest way to connect. "Do you want to go to Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour?" she suggested, trying to dispel the gloom brought by Dobby. "They have a new raspberry nut crumble…"
"Hermione! Lynn!" Ron's loud voice interrupted her. He and Harry squeezed out of the crowd and ran over, both with excited flushes on their faces, Harry still clutching a stack of Gilderoy Lockhart's glittering books.
"Did you see that oaf?" Ron gestured towards Flourish and Blotts, which was still bustling with people. "He's been signing so much his hand's almost broken! And he insisted on dragging Harry for a photo, saying something about 'The Boy Who Lived Meets the Greatest Wizard of Our Age'! Pfft!"
Harry awkwardly scratched his hair: "He even 'gave' me a complete set of his works…" His tone was full of helplessness.
Hermione's gaze was immediately drawn to the stack of books, with a hint of subtle longing: "Gilderoy Lockhart? His *Break with a Banshee* has some very insightful theories on improving banishing charms…"
"Insightful?" Ron squawked. "Come on, Hermione, he's just a fraud who steals other people's stories with Memory Charms! His books, besides the face on the cover, are all…" Under Hermione's disapproving gaze, Ron's voice trailed off.
Lynn did not participate in the critique of Lockhart. His gaze swept over Harry and Ron, finally landing on Lucius Malfoy, who was talking to Arthur Weasley a little further away. Lucius leaned on his snake-headed cane, his grey-blue eyes cold and arrogant, a hint of a fake, insincere smile playing on his lips. When his gaze seemingly casually swept over Lynn, there was unconcealed scrutiny and a very deep hint of apprehension in his eyes—clearly, the results of the Ministry of Magic's inquiry and the rumors about the child of the stars had already reached the ears of this school governor.
Just then, Lynn clearly saw Lucius, in a "friendly" handshake with Arthur Weasley, move his finger extremely subtly, and an inconspicuous black hardcover diary slipped into the pile of cauldrons and textbooks in Ginny's arms! The movement was as swift as a venomous snake's flicking tongue!
Ginny seemed completely unaware, still looking down with a pale face.
"Look!" Lynn whispered in a breathy voice only Hermione could hear, squeezing her pinky finger.
Hermione's pupils suddenly constricted! She saw the black book slip into Ginny's arms! Connecting this to Lynn's warning earlier in the robe shop— "She might be affected by something"—a cold chill instantly crept up her spine! Dobby's warning, the evil within the walls, Lucius Malfoy's furtive action… fragments pieced together a horrifying picture!
"It's Malfoy…" Hermione's voice trembled with anger. "He gave Ginny something! That's very likely…"
"Part of the source of danger," Lynn calmly finished, his gaze sharp as a knife. He knew that the gears of the Chamber of Secrets had been coldly engaged and activated by Lucius's hand, completely unbeknownst to Ginny.
King's Cross Station on September 1st always hummed with a mix of farewells and lively energy. The Hogwarts Express, like a colossal red steel beast, puffed out plumes of white smoke, waiting to carry the young Wizards to the mysterious north.
Lynn and Hermione bid farewell to the Grangers. Aunt Monica hugged Lynn tightly, her eyes slightly red: "You must take your medicine on time, take care of yourself, and if you feel unwell at all, go to Madam Pomfrey immediately, write to us…" Uncle Wendell patted Lynn's shoulder firmly, everything unsaid.
Hermione stood beside Lynn, looking at her parents' worried eyes, and actively took Lynn's hand, fingers intertwined, tilting her face up to give a brilliant smile: "Don't worry, Mom and Dad! I'll make sure he takes his medicine, and I'll take good care of myself too!" The sunlight fell on her fluffy curly hair and Lynn's calm profile, gilding them with a warm golden edge, the scene as beautiful as an oil painting.
The moon-white stone and star stone, between their tightly pressed palms, sent a clear and warm synchronized throb through their clothes. Monica watched this scene, her worry finally melting into a gentle smile in her eyes.
They boarded the train and found an empty compartment. Just as they put away their luggage, Harryand Ron squeezed in, Ron still clutching his anxious, cage-biting rat, Scabbers.
"Merlin's stinky socks! Finally made it on!" Ron slumped into a seat, placing the cage aside. "Scabbershas been acting weird lately, always trying to escape, like there's a ghost after him at Hogwarts."
Lynn's gaze swept over the missing-toed rat, a cold understanding flashing in his eyes—Peter Pettigrew, of course he was afraid; Lord Voldemort's shadow was re-coalescing at Hogwarts.
The train started, and the city scenery outside the window gradually gave way to lush fields and rolling hills. Hermione took out the lunch basket Aunt Monica had prepared, which contained cut sandwiches, fresh fruit, and Hermione's favorite orange cake, carefully packed in an insulated container. She divided the cake into four portions, naturally placing the largest piece in front of Lynn.
"Here, for energy," her tone carried a hint of commanding concern.
Lynn picked up a fork and speared a piece. The sweet orange aroma melted on his tongue, like concentrated sunshine. He looked up and saw Hermione taking small bites of her own portion, a bit of white frosting clinging to the corner of her mouth.
"Here." Lynn reached out a finger and very naturally brushed it across the corner of her lips, his fingertip grazing that soft warmth. The movement was as gentle as brushing dew from a flower petal.
Hermione's movements instantly froze, her cheeks flushing visibly, like ripe apples. She stared wide-eyed at Lynn, her brown eyes shimmering with incredulous shyness and a hint of… sweet fluster. The compartment instantly fell silent, with only the rhythmic clatter of the train. Harry pretended to be engrossed in the scenery outside the window, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up. Ron, meanwhile, gaped, a piece of cake caught in his throat, almost choking.
Lynn acted as if he had just done the most ordinary thing, withdrawing his hand and continuing to quietly eat his cake. Only his slightly reddened ear tips and a somewhat hurried warm throb from the star stone betrayed the not-so-calm ripples in his heart.
The atmosphere was subtle and sweet. Hermione lowered her head, eating the cake in small bites, no longer daring to look at Lynn, only lightly touching his shoe tip with her toe, as if a silent chiding and response.
Just then, the compartment door was gently pulled open a crack. Ginny Weasley's pale little face peeked in. She seemed to be scorched by the warm (and to her, glaring) atmosphere in the compartment, her eyes darting, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "Ron… Mom asked me to ask you… if you saw her… her…" She was incoherent, her gaze wandering, finally landing on Ron's old suitcase next to his seat—a corner of the black hardcover diary was peeking out from the unclosed gap in the case!
Ginny's face instantly became even paler, as if she had seen something extremely terrifying, her breathing quickening. "No… nothing!" She abruptly pulled her head back, slammed the door shut, and her footsteps scurried away in a panic.
The warm atmosphere was broken. Ron was puzzled: "What's wrong with Ginny? She's acting so strange."
Harry also shook his head in confusion.
Only Hermione and Lynn exchanged a grave look. Hermione's hand under the table again clasped Lynn's, her fingertips slightly cool. Lynn clasped it back, conveying silent strength. He looked out at the rapidly receding scenery outside the train window; the silhouette of the Castle's spires was already faintly visible on the horizon.
Within the walls of Hogwarts, ancient evil had awakened and was quietly clinging to an innocent girl. And the undercurrents of guardianship and confrontation, with the train's advance, were silently surging towards that ancient Castle about to be shrouded in gloom. The star stone in his chest sent a heavy, firm warmth, like a guiding spark in the darkness.