Whispers of Rumor and Mistletoe's Murmur

The scent of moonlight and herbal medicine from the Hospital Wing still seemed to linger in her nose, but the wheel of time at Hogwarts never stopped. Only after Madam Pomfrey confirmed that Lynn's magical power had stabilized and Hermione's scrapes were no longer serious did she reluctantly release them before breakfast the next day. Stepping out through the heavy oak door of the Hospital Wing, the noisy chatter of the corridor and the aroma of frying bacon hit them like a different world.

Yet, returning to the daily routine of Gryffindor Tower, the atmosphere was subtly different.

"Look! It's them!"

"Merlin's beard, they really took down a troll?"

"I heard Lynn Li used a super-strong Petrifying Spell!"

"Hermione Granger charged in too! She cast a Stunning Spell!"

"Parvati said Hermione went back to save them..."

Whispers rippled like water as Lynn and Hermione walked into the Common Room. Countless eyes focused on them—curious, admiring, probing, even tinged with fear. The once-noisy room fell into a brief hush. Ron and Harry jumped up from the armchairs by the fireplace and rushed over.

"Lynn! Hermione! Are you okay?" Harry's green eyes were full of genuine concern and lingering fear. "We were scared stiff yesterday! Professor McGonagall only said you were in the Hospital Wing!"

"Madam Pomfrey says we're fine." Hermione's voice was a little hoarse from exhaustion. She instinctively adjusted her robe sleeve to cover the light green gauze on her elbow, stained by ointment. Her gaze swept over the classmates staring at her and Lynn in the Common Room, her small face tightening slightly, uncomfortable with being the center of attention.

Ron's eyes went wide as he looked Lynn up and down, as if seeing him for the first time: "Did you really... freeze a full-grown troll with a Petrifying Spell? Right when it was about to crush you? Fred and George said that takes at least fifth-year magic!" His tone was full of incredulous awe.

"Luck." Lynn's answer was as brief and calm as ever, as if stating the weather. His deep gaze swept the Common Room, the probing looks causing no ripple in him. The Star Stone at his chest pulsed with a steady warmth.

"It wasn't luck!" Hermione immediately retorted, her tone carrying a protectiveness she didn't notice herself, her small face flushing with excitement. "Lynn's plan was perfect! He broke the torch bracket first, injured the troll's wrist with a copper pipe to make it drop its weapon! And only at the most dangerous moment did he use the Petrifying Spell! Every step was crucial!" She recounted it clearly, her eyes shining with admiration for Lynn's calm and strength.

Ron and Harry listened, dumbfounded. The whispers around them grew louder.

"Alright, Miss Granger, Mr. Lee." A stern voice cut through. Professor McGonagall had appeared at the Common Room entrance, her gaze sweeping the crowd with her usual severity, but when it landed on Lynn and Hermione, there was a trace of barely noticeable warmth. "In light of your... extraordinary courage last night," she chose her words carefully, "and, Miss Granger's concern for her companions' safety, though the behavior was extremely reckless..." She gave Hermione a stern look, and Hermione immediately lowered her head. "Gryffindor is awarded... fifty points."

"Fifty points?!" The Common Room erupted! First-years gasped in shock! Everyone knew how fierce the House Cup competition was—fifty points was astronomical! Even Percy pushed up his glasses, looking surprised.

"Fifty points each?" Ron's jaw dropped.

"No," Professor McGonagall corrected. "Fifty points total. Thirty points for Mr. Lynn Li, twenty points for Miss Hermione Granger." Her gaze swept over them again. "I hope this reminds you that true courage needs wisdom to guide it, not pure impulse. Now, go to breakfast and get ready for class!" She turned and left, leaving a buzz of excited discussion behind her.

"Twenty-five each isn't bad either!" Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder excitedly. "Now Gryffindor's sure to beat Slytherin for the House Cup!"

Hermione, however, looked a little downcast. Walking beside Lynn toward the Great Hall, she muttered quietly, "Professor McGonagall was right... I was too impulsive... If it weren't for you..." She recalled the danger of last night and Lynn's massive magical drain from that powerful spell, and guilt filled her.

"The result was good." Lynn's low voice cut off her self-blame. "Miss Granger's courage was worth twenty points." He deliberately used Professor McGonagall's formal address, but his tone carried a hint of teasing.

Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed. She shot him a reproachful glare. "Don't imitate Professor McGonagall!" That little bit of emotion was easily dissolved by Lynn's words, replaced by a subtle sweetness. The Moon White Stone at her chest clearly echoed the warmth of the Star Stone.

But not everyone was well-meaning. In Potions class, when Lynn and Hermione once again worked together to brew a relatively simple Wakefulness Potion—a potion that temporarily sharpens focus—Professor Snape glided like a shadow and stopped beside their table.

His cold, black eyes probed like needles, scanning their synchronized movements—Hermione focused on stirring the pale golden liquid in the cauldron, while Lynn precisely handed her the chopped Evening Primrose Petals. Snape's sallow face showed no expression, but his thin lips curled into an icy sneer.

"So last night's... little adventure hasn't affected our Miss Granger's... proud theoretical application." His voice was like a serpent's hiss, dripping with biting sarcasm. "And our ever-mysterious Mr. Lee still maintains his... eye-catching precision control? I wonder, though, if that sudden burst of powerful magic drained your precious 'Beyond the Star Trail' source?" His gaze stabbed at Lynn like icicles, his words full of undisguised malicious probing and mockery.

The flickering flames under the cauldron reflected Hermione's instantly pale face and tightly pressed lips. Snape's words, like poisoned needles, struck straight at her guilt and worry for Lynn. Her fingers gripping the stirring rod turned white at the knuckles, nearly snapping the glass.

Lynn's movements didn't pause. He calmly dropped the last Evening Primrose Petal into the cauldron, and the potion instantly turned a clear, bright pale green, releasing a fresh herbal scent. Only then did he lift his eyes to meet Snape's cold, scrutinizing gaze. His deep black eyes were like an ancient well, unruffled, clearly reflecting Snape's malicious face.

"Thank you for your concern, Professor." Lynn's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly cut through the cauldron's bubbling, as calm as stating a fact. "Magic is like the stars—it follows its own orbit. Paying too much attention to others' paths can make one lose one's own direction." He glanced meaningfully at a tiny, barely noticeable tear on the hem of Snape's robe—a mark from a powerful magical creature's bite, clumsily mended with magic.

Snape's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly! He clenched his fist hidden in his sleeve, a flash of startled fury crossing his sallow face at having his secret exposed! He stared hard at Lynn, his cold black eyes churning with deeper malice and... a hint of indescribable wariness. In the end, he said nothing, only let out a suppressed, cold snort, his black robes swirling like an angry bat as he slid toward his next target.

Hermione let out a long, silent breath, her tense body relaxing. She looked at Lynn with undisguised gratitude and admiration. In that moment, Lynn's calm yet sharp-edged retort was more reassuring than any spell. She quietly reached under the table, her fingertips brushing the back of Lynn's hand on his knee with a quick, soothing warmth.

Lynn's fingers moved almost imperceptibly, but he didn't pull away. The Star Stone sent a clear warmth through him, dispelling the chill Snape had brought.

Time slid toward December amid tense coursework and quietly budding feelings. The castle was fully decked out in holiday magic. A massive fir tree stood in the center of the Great Hall, hung with singing golden bells, shimmering Ice Crystals, and magical baubles that constantly changed patterns. The sweet scent of pine needles and hot honey mead drifted through the corridors. The suits of armor were enchanted to hum off-key Christmas carols. Even Filch's scrawny cat, Mrs. Norris, had a small, crooked bow tied around her neck by a kind-hearted student.

As the Christmas holiday approached, the list of students staying at school was opened for registration. Hermione held her quill, staring at the two options—"Stay" and "Go Home"—on the parchment, caught in a small dilemma. Of course, she missed her parents' warm dental clinic and their home in London, but... she stole a glance at Lynn, who sat quietly by a nearby window, reading a thick book of magical lore. He leaned against the window frame, winter sunlight streaming through the stained glass, casting colorful shadows on his calm profile. He had no home to go to—he could only stay at Hogwarts.

"Lynn," Hermione walked over, her voice hesitant. "Are you... staying at school for the Christmas holiday?"

Lynn looked up from his book and nodded. "Mm."

"Then... I..." Hermione's fingers unconsciously twisted the tail feather of her quill, her cheeks slightly flushed. "My parents said... if I want to stay and experience a magical Christmas, I can..." Her voice trailed off, but the meaning was clear.

Lynn's deep eyes took in her blushing cheeks and evasive gaze. Understanding dawned. A faint smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. "A Hogwarts Christmas should be interesting." He didn't directly say "stay with me," but his gentle tone and look were the best response.

Hermione's eyes lit up instantly, like stars falling into them. "Really? Then... I'll stay too!" She immediately signed her name firmly under the "Stay" column on the parchment, her movements full of joy.

After deciding to stay, Hermione seemed to shed a small burden, her whole demeanor lightening. She began enthusiastically discussing with Lynn what they could do during the break—explore the edge of the Restricted Section in the library (just a thought, of course), study the dancing suits of armor, or visit the kitchens to ask the House-elves for special Christmas treats (she'd heard older students talk about it)...

One afternoon, they had just borrowed a few books on Ancient Runes from the library and were passing through an archway hung with holly and berry garlands. Above the archway, a lush green branch of mistletoe, dotted with pearl-like white berries, hung magically in the center, exuding a fresh herbal scent.

"Lynn, look!" Hermione pointed at the mistletoe, enthusiastically sharing her knowledge. "Books say mistletoe has special magical meaning at Christmas. It symbolizes..." Her words cut off.

Because Lynn had stopped too. He stood at the archway's entrance, where light and shadow met, his deep gaze resting on Hermione's cheeks, glowing with healthy color in the winter sunlight. Then he slowly looked up at the green branch above her head—the symbol of love, peace, and... romantic encounters. The winter sunlight outlined the shape of her bushy hair, and the air was filled with the scent of pine needles, parchment, and... the faint, sun-warmed bookish fragrance of the girl.

Hermione also sensed the shift in atmosphere. Following Lynn's gaze, she looked up and saw the mistletoe, looking especially lush and tempting in the magical light, and the unwritten romantic tradition hanging beneath it. Her cheeks instantly blazed like sunset, spreading to her ears and neck. Her heart pounded uncontrollably, nearly bursting from her chest. She instinctively hugged the books tighter, her fingers digging into the hard covers. Her long eyelashes fluttered like startled butterfly wings, her gaze dropping in panic, yet she couldn't help stealing quick glances up at Lynn.

The archway fell silent, broken only by distant carols and the sound of their heartbeats, clear to each other. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting dreamy patches of light on the stone floor. The mistletoe swayed gently in an imperceptible breeze, its white berries like shy eyes.

Lynn stood there quietly, his gaze calm but carrying an unprecedented focus. He didn't speak or move, just looked at her deeply, as if imprinting her shyness, her fluster, and her budding, lovely form into the depths of his memory, like a star's trajectory. The Star Stone at his chest pulsed with clear, warm beats, like silent drumbeats.

Hermione felt she might suffocate. Time seemed stretched infinitely. What should she do? Run away? Or... Her gaze involuntarily fell on Lynn's sharp jawline, then down to his slightly pressed lips, which looked... soft? The thought sent all her blood rushing to her head! She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could escape this heart-stopping, ambiguous atmosphere.

Just as Hermione was about to turn and flee from sheer embarrassment, Lynn moved.

He didn't lean in as tradition dictated. Instead, with excruciating slowness and a near-reverent care, he raised his right hand. His fingertips didn't touch her cheek or lips. Instead, with a slight coolness, they brushed ever so gently against a strand of her soft, golden-touched hair at her temple, tucking it behind her small ear.

The tips of his fingers grazed the sensitive edge of her ear, sending a faint, electrifying shiver through her. Hermione's body stiffened instantly, then trembled slightly from the restrained yet incredibly intimate touch. Her long lashes fluttered violently like butterfly wings, but she didn't open her eyes. A tiny, trembling hum escaped her throat.

"Loose hair," Lynn's low voice sounded by her ear, carrying a barely perceptible hoarseness, like a feather brushing her heart. He withdrew his hand, the tips seeming to still retain the softness of her hair and the delicate warmth of her ear.

Having done this, he turned as if it were the most natural thing in the world and walked out of the mistletoe-covered archway first, his steps steady, though his back seemed a little straighter than usual.

Winter sunlight fell on her face again, carrying a faint warmth. Only then did Hermione dare open her eyes, watching Lynn's upright back. Her cheeks still burned, her heart thundered like a drum. She raised her hand, her fingertips lightly touching the edge of her ear he had just brushed, where the cool touch of his fingers and that... indescribable thrill still seemed to linger. She hugged the books tighter, as if to press down her wildly beating heart.

The mistletoe swayed gently behind them, its white berries shimmering with pure light in the sun. No kiss, no embrace—just that gentle brush of hair and a simple "Loose hair." Yet in the girl's heart, it cast a star more brilliant than any magic, its ripples spreading, lingering long. She took a few quick steps to catch up with Lynn, walking shoulder to shoulder with him down the sunlit corridor. Between them flowed a silent warmth, warmer than the winter sun. Beneath their robes, the Star Stone and the Moon White Stone, inches apart, emitted a soft, synchronized glow.