While Lynn was tasting dessert, Hermione also received the gifts delivered by the Owls.
In previous Christmases she had looked forward to her presents, but she had never risen this early.
This Christmas filled her with more anticipation than any before, because she knew very well that she was about to receive a gift from Lynn.
The gloves she had knitted by hand for her... even though Hermione already knew what Lynn would give her.
But when she unwrapped the blue parcel and saw the exquisite pair of gloves inside, Hermione couldn't help a surge of excitement.
More intense than any Christmas gift she had ever received.
She slipped the gloves on at once; they were a little larger than her hands—just big enough not to fall off, yet not so snug as to feel uncomfortable.
Feeling the warmth on her hands, even in the heated room Hermione sensed no trace of stuffiness.
On the contrary, her hands felt indescribably cozy, making her want to keep the gloves on even at home.
But imagining herself walking down to breakfast wearing them in front of her parents, Hermione shook her head and reluctantly peeled them off.
She inwardly prayed to go out—Merlin, please let her mother, Mrs. Granger, send her on errands.
Let her make several trips to buy ingredients for the Christmas dinner, just so she could wear the gloves a few more times.
Kind Merlin seemed to hear her prayer, unwilling to let a Young Wizard's wish go unfulfilled on Christmas Day.
After Hermione finished breakfast, Mrs. Granger beckoned to her gently.
'Hermione, come here.'
Hermione quickly cleared the table and hurried over, eyes shining.
'What is it, Mum? Do you need me to buy something?'
Hermione looked at Mrs. Granger with sparkling eyes; the woman blinked in surprise.
What had come over her daughter today? She often asked Hermione to shop, and Hermione never objected.
But now she was eager—thrilled, even.
'Yes...' Mrs. Granger nodded hesitantly, 'I'd like you to pick up some spices and sugar.'
'All right!' Hermione nodded vigorously, dashed upstairs, threw on her thick coat, and happily pulled on the gloves.
Then she flew back down. 'Hermione, slow down!'
Watching her daughter race down the stairs, Mrs. Granger's heart leapt—why was she so reckless and excited? She could hurt herself.
Hermione caught herself, forced down her excitement, and meekly took the money her mother offered.
As she did, Mrs. Granger's gaze fell naturally on the delicate gloves.
They looked finely made, clearly the work of someone skillful and thoughtful. Most importantly, she hadn't bought or knitted them for Hermione.
'Hermione, those gloves are lovely. Did a classmate give them to you for Christmas?'
she asked thoughtfully.
The question shattered Hermione's composure.
A wide smile lit her face. 'Yes, Mum! Lynn gave them to me!'
'Lynn?' Mrs. Granger looked puzzled; she had never heard the name.
'Yes!' Hermione nodded emphatically. 'Her grades are amazing—much better than mine—and she studies so hard she barely rests.'
'It worries me, so I try to make her take breaks, but even then I feel she puts too much pressure on herself...'
Seeing Hermione about to ramble, Mrs. Granger gently cut in.
'All right, Hermione. If you keep describing your friend in such detail, we'll run out of time for shopping.'
'Oh... okay, sorry, Mum.' Hermione pressed her lips together, still eager to talk.
'I'm off to buy the things.' She nodded, slipped on her shoes, and stepped outside.
Mrs. Granger stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the door close.
She murmured, 'Lynn... the way Hermione looks, if I hadn't just heard her say "she," I'd have thought...'
She broke off, realizing that romance wasn't limited to boys and girls.
Could her daughter be...? Mrs. Granger shook the notion away.
What was she thinking? Hermione was still so young; the girl named Lynn must be too.
They surely saw each other as best friends. Anything else could wait until they were older.
She shook her head and turned back to the kitchen. Hermione would grasp her own happiness.
She had always been a clever child, knowing what she wanted and how to get it.
Whether she brought home a boy or a girl didn't matter; her happiness did.
Besides... two daughters meant double the affection—Mrs. Granger couldn't help smiling at the thought.
But no need to tell Hermione's father yet; he doted on his darling daughter.
Best not to scare the girl named Lynn.
Without realizing it, this perceptive mother had sensed the budding feelings before either girl had.
While Hermione happily shopped in her gloves, Lynn arrived at the Library with her bag of books.
She had barely opened one when Harry and Ron walked in, arms full of homework.
Ron groaned, 'Mate... do we really have to study on Christmas Day—on Christmas Day?'
Harry sighed and pointed toward Lynn, who was quietly reading.
"Hermione told us to take Lynn out to relax and have fun, so we've got to make sure she actually enjoys herself."
"Imagine taking her out to relax, only for both of us to be worrying about unfinished homework the whole time."
"Then Lynn notices and drags us back to study..."
Harry didn't need to say another word; that image alone made Ron vow to finish his assignments right away.
"Morning, Lynn—mind if we sit here?" Harry bent down and whispered.
Lynn looked up, expressionless. "Sure, sit."
Harry and Ron exhaled in relief, slid onto the bench opposite her, and opened their books.
After a cool glance at them, Lynn sank back into her work.
They studied straight through till noon. As lunch approached, Ron clutched his stomach and glanced at the still-furiously-studying Lynn.
"Er… should we go eat? I'm starving—sorry…"
Harry lifted his head too. Lynn hadn't heard her name, so she kept reading, unresponsive.
Ron sighed, about to resume writing, when Harry suddenly understood and spoke up quickly.
"Lynn, shall we head to lunch?"
Only when she heard her name did Lynn raise her head. "All right, let's go."
She packed up and strode out of the Library at top speed.
The boys followed; Ron cupped a hand round his mouth.
"Did I offend her? She ignored me, but answered you the second you spoke."
Harry shot a cautious look at Lynn's back. "You didn't offend her. If you don't say her name, she doesn't realize you're talking to her."
"Blimey," Ron hissed, "total bookworm."
By the time they reached the Great Hall, Hogwarts Great Hall had been decked for Christmas.
Inside, countless Christmas Crackers waited—pull one and, after a harmless bang and puff of smoke, a small gift popped out.
Ron, who'd been complaining of hunger, was soon dragging Harry from cracker to cracker.
Lynn ignored the crackers entirely, marched to the table and began eating at lightning speed.
Most students had gone home for Christmas; only a handful of Young Wizards and Professors remained in Hogwarts Castle.
Headmaster Dumbledore had moved the four House tables aside and set one large round table in the centre so everyone could sit together.
The result: the Professors once again witnessed Lynn devouring her meal.
Professor Flitwick, who'd meant to raise the issue but kept getting distracted, finally "caught her in the act."
Sitting opposite, he watched her eat at close range—shocked and saddened.
Even Professors who urge diligence feel pained when a pupil neglects health for study.
"Miss Lynn—" Before Flitwick could continue, Headmaster Dumbledore tapped a crystal goblet with his fork, interrupting the frantic fork-work.
Lynn set down her cutlery at once and looked up.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, is something wrong?"
Meeting her blank eyes, Dumbledore paused, then smiled kindly.
"Eating slowly is better for your health—and for tasting the food, don't you think?"
Lynn blinked. "Sorry, my mealtime is fixed; it can't cut into study time."
Dumbledore felt himself choke; were Ravenclaw students nowadays this fanatical? Even in his day, Ravenclaw hadn't been like this.
Had the wider Ravenclaw body heard him, they'd have yelled, "Only Lynn is like this!"
"Today is Christmas," Professor McGonagall said cheerfully, setting a brimming glass of pumpkin juice beside her. "Take the day off, Miss Lynn—just one day without studying."
Lynn stared at the pumpkin juice while two thoughts clashed in her head.
She mustn't stop studying, yet she ought to obey Professors—and Professor McGonagall had told her to rest.
But she couldn't stop… couldn't rest… couldn't— "Miss Lynn!" Dumbledore cut in before the loop spiralled further.
She lifted her gaze, emotionless. "Sorry, Headmaster, I was distracted."
"No matter. Just today—give yourself a holiday, all right?"
The gentle tone and quiet authority in Dumbledore's voice made compliance feel inevitable.
"Very well, thank you, Headmaster." With "outside help," the order to obey won.
Face set like stone, Lynn lowered her head and began, mechanically, to eat her Christmas lunch more slowly.
Seeing her pace slacken, every Professor present exhaled in relief.
Flitwick shot Dumbledore and McGonagall a grateful look.
Dumbledore excelled at guiding students with kindly persuasion, McGonagall at noticing details; together they'd achieved far more than Flitwick could have managed alone.