The lingering warmth of the Christmas holiday had yet to fade when Hogwarts welcomed a bitter January. Cold winds from the Scottish Highlands swept in fine snow, coating the castle's stone walls in a thick silver mantle. The fireplaces in the Common Room became the most popular spots, and the air was filled with the scent of hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts.
Life after returning to school grew tense again. In the library, Hermione frowned at the complicated steps for the Shrinking Potion in Magical Drafts and Potions, her quill scratching softly across the parchment. Lynn sat opposite her, the restored Pen of Stars smoothly sketching an Ancient Runes energy model in his dark-blue notebook. The sapphire at its tip glimmered with restrained starlight.
"Lynn," Hermione said, looking up and rubbing her aching eyes, "Professor McGonagall said the Quidditch team will start holding trials for new players next week, especially a Seeker. Charlie Weasley has graduated, and Gryffindor desperately needs replacements." She paused and looked at Lynn, her eyes carrying a trace of expectation she had not noticed herself. "Will you... try out? Your flying talent..." She remembered that brief, breathtaking hover above Diagon Alley before term began.
Lynn lifted his gaze from his notes and looked at Hermione. Snowlight filtering through the window reflected off her earnest expression. "Quidditch?" His voice was calm. "Not particularly interested." Protecting others and exploring magic itself were his true goals; fierce sporting competition was not his first choice.
A flicker of disappointment passed through Hermione's eyes, but understanding quickly replaced it. She nodded. "That makes sense. Training takes a lot of time. But Harry will definitely try out! Ron says he talks about broom models in the Common Room every day. His eyes are practically buried in Complete Book of Broomsticks."
Once the topic turned to Harry, Hermione brightened up again and began analyzing the technical essentials of each position, her little face full of the seriousness of a top student. Lynn listened quietly, nodding now and then.
A few days later, on a weekend morning, the wind was still bitingly cold. The Quidditch pitch lay under a thick blanket of snow, gleaming with a frigid white beneath the gray daylight. A sparse crowd of students unafraid of the cold sat in the stands, mostly Gryffindors cheering for their house's trials. They were bundled up tightly, and the white vapor of their breaths vanished in an instant.
In the center of the pitch, Gryffindor Quidditch captain Oliver Wood waved his arms as he loudly explained the rules for the trials. Several veteran players stood beside him, including the red-haired twin brothers Fred and George Weasley. Harry stood among a group of nervous first-years, rubbing his hands together as he stared fixedly at the school brooms of varying models placed at Wood's feet.
Lynn and Hermione sat in the front row of the stands. Hermione was wrapped in a thick scarf and wool hat, with only her bright eyes visible. She held a warming-charmed thermos in her arms, filled with hot chocolate she had specially made early that morning. Lynn wore a dark coat, a pale-gold star-patterned scarf casually draped around his neck, accentuating the calm lines of his profile.
"Look! It's Harry!" Hermione pointed below. Harry took a deep breath and mounted what looked like the oldest Comet 260 broom. At Wood's whistle, the trials began.
Harry's performance exceeded everyone's expectations. It was as if he had been born for the sky. The old broom he had disliked became extraordinarily tame beneath him. Taking off, diving, stopping sharply, turning—every movement flowed as naturally as breathing. Like a keen peregrine falcon, he darted through the cold wind, several times narrowly brushing past the tails of other candidates' brooms, drawing waves of gasps from the stands.
"He's flying brilliantly!" Hermione praised despite herself, her face red from excitement and cold. She opened the thermos, and a fragrant wave of steam rose out. "Here, Lynn. Warm your hands." She poured a cup of hot chocolate and held it out to him.
Lynn accepted the warm cup, his fingertips accidentally brushing Hermione's icy fingers. He glanced at her. "Cold?"
"I'm fine..." Hermione tucked her reddened hands into her sleeves, her gaze still following Harry as he maneuvered nimbly across the pitch.
Just then, a burst of grating laughter came from the edge of the field. A group of Slytherin students wearing silver-and-green scarves arrived around Draco Malfoy, clearly there to watch the spectacle. Malfoy stood with his arms folded, his pale face wearing its usual mocking smile.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at our great Potter, the 'Star of the Chosen,'" Malfoy drawled, his voice especially clear across the open pitch. "Riding a decrepit old Comet 260? Sponsored by the Weasley family? Or did he fish it out of a rubbish heap? Can that piece of junk even catch the Golden Snitch? I doubt it could even outrun a goblin!"
Crabbe and Goyle let out clumsy laughs behind him. Several Gryffindor first-years turned red with anger, and Ron looked ready to charge over, only to be held back by the grinning twins.
Harry in the field had clearly heard him as well. His movements faltered slightly, and a flash of anger crossed his face.
Hermione's brows drew tightly together, deeply displeased by Malfoy's nastiness. She had just opened her mouth to retort when she sensed Lynn move beside her.
Lynn did not even stand. He continued watching the pitch, holding his cup of hot chocolate in his left hand while his right rested casually on his knee. His long fingers made an extremely subtle flick through the cold air, like plucking a string.
There was no flash of light, no sound of an incantation.
Then came a soft pop by Malfoy's feet, followed by a burnt smell! The toe of the right boot in his brand-new, gleaming Dragon Hide Boots transformed without warning into a... fluffy, foolish-looking, bright-yellow rubber duck head! Its beak was even comically open!
"Quack?" The duck head by Malfoy's foot let out a lifelike, puzzled cry.
The entire pitch fell instantly silent!
Every gaze shifted away from Harry and focused on Malfoy's ridiculously transformed shoe.
The mocking smile on Malfoy's face froze at once. He lowered his head in disbelief and stared at the toe of his right shoe, now a rubber duck. His pale face rapidly turned the color of liver! Crabbe and Goyle gaped behind him, making strangled "uh, uh" sounds, while the other Slytherin students stood dumbfounded.
"Pfft!" Fred Weasley was the first to lose it, erupting into earth-shaking laughter.
"Ha ha ha! Malfoy! Is that your new pet?" George clutched his stomach and followed immediately.
After the brief silence, the Gryffindor students in the stands burst into relieved, roaring laughter! Even some Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students could not help laughing.
"Who?! Who did this?!" Malfoy shrieked furiously, stomping his foot wildly in an attempt to shake off the damned duck head. It only made it produce more idiotic quacking sounds, making the scene even more absurd. His vicious gaze swept over the stands before finally landing on Lynn's calm, expressionless profile.
As though nothing had happened, Lynn slowly took a sip of hot chocolate and turned his attention back to Harry, who had shaken off the distraction and was now making an exceptionally beautiful dive in an attempt to catch the Golden Snitch—a test ball Wood had released temporarily. Only Hermione, sitting beside him, clearly caught the fleeting, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his mouth as he lowered his cup.
Hermione looked at Malfoy's miserable state, then at Lynn's quiet retaliation beside her. A powerful warmth and sense of safety surged through her heart. She could not help smiling too, and her earlier displeasure vanished completely. She quietly shifted her slightly numb fingers closer to Lynn's arm, which rested on his knee beneath the pale-gold star-patterned scarf, feeling the reassuring warmth coming from there.
"Quiet! Quiet!" Wood had no choice but to blow his whistle, forcibly suppressing the chaos. "The trials will continue!"
The trials ended when Harry caught the test Snitch. Wood rushed over excitedly, slapped Harry hard on the shoulder, and announced on the spot that he was Gryffindor's new Seeker! The Gryffindor stands erupted in thunderous cheers.
On the way back, snow crunched beneath their feet. Hermione and Lynn walked side by side. Hermione hugged the now-empty thermos, in an excellent mood.
"Just now... that was you, wasn't it?" Hermione could not help asking softly, her eyes shining as she looked at Lynn. "Malfoy's shoe?"
Lynn did not deny it. He merely said flatly, "He was too noisy."
Hermione laughed, her breath misting in the cold air. "Well done! That duck... pfft!" Remembering how ridiculous it had looked, she could not help laughing again.
Lynn watched her bright, blooming smile, and his gaze softened slightly. He noticed several sparkling snowflakes caught in the ends of her hair beneath her wool hat.
Naturally, he raised his hand and gently brushed the snowflakes from her hair. His fingertips skimmed the edge of her cool ear.
Hermione's laughter abruptly stopped. Her body stiffened slightly, and her cheeks quickly flushed red, like red plum blossoms blooming against the snow. She lowered her head at once, her heart racing uncontrollably. How many times had this been already? His natural touches, carrying that sense of protection?
Lynn withdrew his hand. His fingertips retained the coolness of melted snow and the soft touch of her hair. He said nothing and simply continued walking forward.
Hermione fell half a step behind, looking at Lynn's tall back. The pale-gold scarf she had knitted herself, patterned with stars, fluttered gently in the cold wind around his neck. She unconsciously touched the cool Star Moon Brooch at her chest, then touched the ends of her hair he had just brushed. An indescribable flutter, both sweet and bittersweet, spread through her heart. She jogged a few steps and returned to his side.
Snowflakes drifted down soundlessly, covering the castle's ancient stone steps. Between them flowed a quiet understanding, broken only by the sound of falling snow. Hermione secretly turned her head to look at Lynn's composed profile. He seemed... very close to her, yet also seemed... to conceal countless secrets of the stars. She quietly extended a finger and, through her thick wool glove, ever so lightly and tentatively touched the back of Lynn's hand hanging at his side.
Through two layers of wool, the sensation was faint and indistinct.
But Lynn's steps paused almost imperceptibly. He did not turn his head, nor did he pull away. He simply allowed that touch, filled with tentative dependence, to remain through the fabric. The Star Stone at his chest gave a clear, warm pulse.
Hermione's fingertips withdrew as if burned. Her cheeks flushed even redder, and her heart beat so quickly it seemed ready to leap from her chest. She hurriedly lowered her head and stared at the footprints her boots left in the snow, though the corners of her mouth quietly curled upward on their own.
The snow fell harder. Yet the silent warmth between them seemed to melt away the cold surrounding them. The new year began to unfold amid the faint light over the snowy fields and the quiet testing of their hearts.
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