Before they could come up with an answer, Lynn stepped out of the Ravenclaw Common Room ahead of them.
She had finished the books she'd borrowed and needed to swap them for a new batch at the Library.
Spotting Harry and Ron, Lynn gave a curt, emotionless nod in greeting, then quickened her pace toward the Library.
Watching her walk away, Harry suddenly snapped to attention and called out.
"Lynn! Wait up!"
He grabbed Ron and hurried after her, terrified she'd vanish if they delayed even a second.
Hermione had charged them with getting Lynn outside to relax, and Harry dared not break that promise.
Lynn stopped and regarded them coolly. "What is it?"
The flat tone sent a shiver through Harry; that familiar pressure and dread crept up his spine.
Ron, equally rattled, sucked in a breath and managed their mission.
"It's snowing… we, uh, thought you might like a snowball fight." He gave an awkward grin.
Lynn nodded to show she'd heard, then replied without hesitation.
"Sorry, it's study time; I can't go downstairs to play."
"But it's the holidays…" Ron muttered.
As she turned to leave, Harry, in a flash of inspiration, blurted the one line guaranteed to stop her.
"Hermione told us to take you out and make you relax!"
At Hermione's name, Lynn froze mid-step.
Her mind, detached and analytical, processed the instruction: Hermione wanted her to join them… Head bowed, she yielded to the silent directive.
"Very well. I'll return these books to the Library, then come with you."
Harry and Ron exhaled in relief, seized the volumes, and accompanied her.
As they walked, Ron nudged Harry. "Nice one—how'd you know to use Hermione?"
Harry glanced back to confirm Lynn wasn't listening, then whispered.
"Haven't you noticed? She only acts different when Hermione's involved."
"When it's study time, one word from Hermione and she follows."
Ron thought back and nodded earnestly. "You're right."
Every time he could recall Lynn doing something non-academic, Hermione had issued the invitation.
He silently gave Harry a thumbs-up; after returning the books to Madam Pince, the trio headed outside Hogwarts Castle.
Beyond the gates, thick snow blanketed the grounds, students racing about, pelting one another with snowballs.
The loudest among them were Ron's older brothers, Fred Weasley and George Weasley.
They scooped and flung snowballs indiscriminately at anyone in sight.
Whoever appeared became a target.
Lynn, Harry, and Ron were no exception.
The moment they emerged, several snowballs flew their way. Harry and Ron ducked; Lynn, calm and precise, raised a hand and deflected every projectile.
Without emotion, she felt no panic, analyzing each trajectory and blocking them flawlessly.
The display instantly intrigued the Weasley Twins.
They exchanged glances, identical sparks of challenge in their eyes.
Yet they knew pelting a younger girl—especially one several years their junior—would be poor form.
After Harry and Ron lobbed two retaliatory snowballs, The Twins proposed teams.
With five players, they split into first-years—Harry, Ron, and Lynn—versus the two older boys, giving the younger side an extra member.
After all, this was only snow; no spells involved. They never considered that if magic were allowed, even pairing Harry and Ron with Lynn alone would still leave them outmatched.
Teams chosen, the battle began—only then did the four boys grasp how formidable Lynn truly was.
Expecting a typical Ravenclaw bookworm, they assumed she'd be hopeless at sport.
Instead, though her stamina was average, her perception and focus were lethal; every snowball she threw struck Fred or George.
Meanwhile, their volleys either missed entirely or were swatted aside—none breached her guard.
Half an hour later, Lynn was lightly winded.
The boys, satisfied and noting her fatigue, called a truce.
They settled onto a nearby bench. Fred spotted Professor Quirrell passing and grinned mischievously.
He drew his wand, murmured a charm, and floated a clump of snow onto the back of Quirrell's turban.
George and Fred burst into raucous laughter.
Quirrell startled, reached back, then thought better of it and scurried away, pretending nothing had happened.
Their mirth only grew louder.
Once inside the Castle, however, Quirrell encountered Professor McGonagall, adopted an expression of outrage, and reported The Twins' behavior.
She promptly promised a reprimand and docked Gryffindor five points.
Thus, before The Twins could wipe the grins off their faces, McGonagall strode up and delivered a stern lecture.
Harry, Ron, and Lynn, untouched by the scolding, seized the moment to slip quietly away.
By Merlin's backside…" Ron groaned the moment they stepped into the Castle.
He didn't say a word when he got hit—why run straight to Professor McGonagall the next second?
Harry shook his head. "Maybe because Fred and the others are in Gryffindor House—he wants Professor McGonagall to handle it herself?"
Ron shrugged; he had no idea, but after this little incident…
Professor Quirrell sank a few more notches in their opinion.
Teenagers' likes and dislikes are that simple—just like their dislike for Professor Snape.
Lynn, standing beside them, said nothing, her face perfectly calm.
Harry and Ron's guess made some sense, but she had another idea.
From the start of term, Professor Quirrell had stuttered, reeked of garlic, seemed useless, and acted timid.
So saying nothing in front of the Weasley Twins fit that image perfectly.
Tattling to Professor McGonagall behind their backs, however, suggested the timid act was a disguise—and a Professor hiding like that felt wrong.
Add in the fact he'd been one of the two Professors who'd tried to hurt Harry, and Professor Quirrell looked guiltier than ever.
Besides, she'd seen clearly: after the blow to his head he'd started to reach for the spot, then forced himself to stop.
Something was off about the back of his head… Lynn's thoughts raced, her mind spinning out conclusions.
When she'd run through every scrap of information, she shut the analysis down and looked at Harry and Ron without expression.
"I'm going to the Great Hall for dinner; after that I'll head straight back to Ravenclaw Tower."
She stared unblinkingly at Harry, unsure whether Hermione had any further instructions for them.
"Oh—right… okay." Harry blinked and nodded.
With his answer, Lynn spun around and strode briskly toward the Great Hall.
By the time Harry and Ron reached the Great Hall, Lynn had already finished dinner and left.
Watching her go, Ron shook his head. "She bolts her food every time—how can that be any fun?"
He grabbed two fried chicken legs; beside him Harry piled slices of bacon onto his plate.
"Maybe she doesn't enjoy eating," Harry said after a bite of bacon.
"Then what does she enjoy?" Ron bit into a drumstick; the crispy skin crackled.
"Survival." Harry shrugged—without knowing he'd hit the truth.
Lynn ate to survive, caring nothing for taste or whether the speed might damage her stomach.
As long as her body kept running and her studies stayed on track, that was enough.
That was exactly what her mother had always told her; if humans could live without food, her mother would probably say…
Don't bother—eating only wastes study time, so skip it.
From the Great Hall she walked to the Library, read until near curfew, then stood up and took the book to Madam Pince to check it out.
Looking at the child who had devoured hundreds of books in barely half a year, Madam Pince sighed and stamped the card with practiced speed.
Thanking Madam Pince, Lynn hugged the book and headed back to Ravenclaw Tower.
In her Dormitory she followed her usual schedule, finally going to bed at four.
After one hour of sleep she was up and back at her desk with the book open.
At six o'clock Owls began to tap at her window.
Lynn heard the tapping but stayed immersed in her work while the Owl outside knocked stubbornly at the glass.
That continued until a thought surfaced: there's an Owl outside; Owls bring presents, and Hermione's gift is among them.
The next instant she snapped out of study mode, opened the window without expression, and several Owls swooped in to land on her desk.
Her gaze flicked over them and quickly settled on the one most likely carrying Hermione's parcel.
She couldn't explain how she knew that particular Owl was Hermione's, but her brain supplied the certainty.
She unfastened the letter from its leg, glanced at it—sure enough, it was Hermione's gift.
Hermione wished her a happy Christmas, hoped she'd like the present, and urged her to rest over the holiday.
Spend time with Harry and Ron, relax a bit—stop studying every waking minute.
Reading the almost-overflowing concern, Lynn felt her brain twitch and a warmth flicker in her chest.
She shook her head, set the letter down, and emotionlessly opened the package the Owl had delivered.
Inside was a large box of pastries and a note from Hermione.
"I baked these myself—sugar-free, good for your teeth. Hope you like my cooking~"
Lynn set the note aside, carefully lifted the lid, and the scent of fresh pastry filled her nose.
She picked up a piece and, on instinct, moved to pop it straight into her mouth and swallow.
But a split-second before she did, her brain stopped her.
Again, for no reason she could name, she didn't want to "gulp" down Hermione's gift.
So she opened her mouth, took a slow bite, and began to chew.
Softness and sweetness exploded on her tongue—the first time in years she had actually tasted food.
Bite after bite, she spent a full three minutes finishing a pastry smaller than her palm.
The time she usually needed for an entire meal had been spent on one tiny cake.
Yet that single pastry made her feel… fuller, as if something inside her had been slightly mended.