Stubbornness and Tenderness Under Star Marks

In the following days, Hermione's life seemed to revolve around the Hospital Wing. She strictly followed Madam Pomfrey's visiting hours, unfailingly appearing at three in the afternoon with warm pumpkin juice, sliced fruit, or books she thought Linley might find interesting—sometimes profound Ancient Runes theories, sometimes the Transfiguration Today journal, and once she even brought a Muggle book, Principles of Basic Physics, tentatively asking if he wanted to give his brain a change of pace.

Most of the time, Linley just listened quietly, occasionally nodding slightly at key points or offering his opinions in extremely concise words. His spirit was slowly recovering, and his pale face gradually regained some color, but the wound on his chest healed agonizingly slowly. Beneath the thick bandages, that patch of scorched skin and spiderweb-like cracks remained a shocking sight. Even more concerning was the state of his magic. Madam Pomfrey had strictly forbidden him from using even a sliver of magic, warning that damage to the Star Origin was the most troublesome, with a long and uncertain recovery period, and any carelessness could leave permanent hidden injuries.

Hermione keenly sensed a subtle, almost imperceptible melancholy deep within his eyes. Proud as Linley was, the sudden loss of his power and being confined to a sickbed must have been harder for him to endure than the physical pain. All she could do was try harder to find topics of conversation, attempt to distract him, or simply sit by his side quietly, making the silence less unbearable.

That afternoon, Hermione arrived at the Hospital Wing as usual. Madam Pomfrey was in the inner room brewing a pungent ointment. Hermione tiptoed to Linley's bedside, only to find him with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.

Sunlight fell on his serene sleeping face, his long eyelashes casting faint, fan-shaped shadows beneath his eyes. His breathing was steady, but his brow was slightly furrowed, as if even in his sleep he was troubled by something heavy. Hermione's heart softened, and she didn't wake him. She put down what she had brought and was about to sit in the chair beside him when her gaze inadvertently swept over his hand, which lay outside the blanket.

His fingers were moving, with an extremely subtle, almost imperceptible amplitude, on the white sheet... sketching something.

Hermione held her breath, concentrating. The trajectory of his fingertips was not a random movement but possessed a certain specific, familiar rhythm—it was the silent casting gesture for "Lumos"! He was trying to mobilize his magic!

A chill shot from the soles of Hermione's feet to the top of her head! Madam Pomfrey's warning echoed in her ears! Was he mad?!

Almost the instant Hermione realized what he was doing, Linley's body trembled violently! He suddenly opened his eyes, and a flash of pain and extreme weakness flickered in those calm, dark eyes! He clenched his lips tightly, fine beads of cold sweat instantly appearing on his forehead. The hand on the sheet clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white from the force! Beneath the bandages covering his chest, something seemed to be suppressed forcefully, causing violent undulations!

"Linley!" Hermione cried out involuntarily, rushing to his bedside, her heart pounding. "What are you doing?! You can't use magic! Madam Pomfrey said..."

Linley gasped for breath a few times, forcefully suppressing the intense pain and dizziness from the magical backlash. He raised his eyes to look at Hermione, a hint of embarrassment at being caught in his gaze, but more than that, a near-obsessive stubbornness and unwillingness. He didn't speak, merely averted his gaze, his jawline clenched tightly.

Seeing his pale face and the cold sweat on his forehead, Hermione felt both anxious and angry, but mostly heartbroken. "Do you know how dangerous this is?!" Her voice was choked with tears, but she dared not speak too loudly to alert Madam Pomfrey. "Damage to the Origin is no joke! Forcing yourself to mobilize magic now will only worsen your injuries! Do you want to never recover?!"

Linley's lips were pressed into a pale, straight line, still silent. But his clenched fists and slightly trembling shoulders betrayed his inner struggle. The loss of power, like a beast with its claws removed, this sense of powerlessness was almost consuming him. He just wanted to confirm, even just the faintest trace...

Hermione looked at his stubborn profile, all her scolding words stuck in her throat, turning into deeper heartache. She took a deep breath, suppressed her surging emotions, and softened her voice, with an unprecedented gentleness and firmness: "Linley, look at me."

Linley's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and he slowly turned his head back.

Hermione looked directly into his deep, dark eyes and said, word by word, clearly and earnestly: "I know it's difficult. I know how important strength is to you. But now is not the time to be brave. You need time, you need patience. Trust me, and trust Madam Pomfrey, okay?" Her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable power. "Until you're completely healed, I'll be here. Anything you need, anything I can do, I will do. So... don't take risks, please."

Her gaze was clear and firm, with undisguised concern and a stubbornness bordering on protectiveness. Linley looked at his reflection in the girl's eyes, at her slightly reddened eyes from nervousness and worry, and the taut string of unwillingness and anxiety in his heart seemed to be gently plucked by a soft yet powerful hand.

A crack appeared in his stubborn defenses. His clenched fist slowly, extremely slowly, relaxed. His tense jawline also eased slightly. He didn't speak, but the gloomy ferocity deep in his eyes seemed to dissipate somewhat, replaced by a complex fatigue tinged with compromise. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, extremely slightly.

This tiny gesture finally eased Hermione's suspended heart. She let out a long sigh, feeling cold sweat on her back. She quickly picked up the warm towel beside her and gently wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Drink some water?" She picked up the cup and carefully brought it to his lips.

Linley silently drank a few sips of warm water from her hand. The warm water slid down his dry throat, seeming to slightly soothe the restless magical backlash within him.

The atmosphere finally eased. Hermione sat back in her chair, not picking up a book as usual, but simply accompanying him quietly. The sunlight warmed them both, and the air was filled with the scent of herbs and disinfectant, yet it was strangely no longer so pungent.

After a while, Linley's hoarse voice sounded, with a hint of imperceptible awkwardness: "...That book."

"Hmm?" Hermione didn't react immediately.

"The Muggle..." He paused. "...Physics."

Hermione's eyes lit up instantly! He had actively asked about the Muggle physics book she thought he would least likely be interested in! This was a huge step forward! She quickly took out the Principles of Basic Physics from her bag and presented it to him as if offering a treasure: "This one! It talks about force and motion, energy conversion, and... well, some basic laws of the universe. Although the forms of expression are different from magic, I think some principles might be related..."

She excitedly flipped open the book, pointed to the table of contents, and began to explain, her voice regaining its usual vitality. Linley listened quietly, his gaze falling on the unfamiliar formulas and concepts, not interrupting her. The sunlight fell on the pages, and also on his focused profile, dispelling some of the gloom brought by his sickly appearance.

Time quietly slipped away with Hermione's gentle explanations and Linley's occasional nods. When the reminder for the end of visiting hours sounded, Hermione still felt somewhat unsatisfied.

"Shall I continue explaining Newton's laws to you tomorrow?" She closed the book and looked at Linley expectantly.

Linley's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, then he nodded: "...Mm."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, tidying up her things to leave. When she reached the doorway, she couldn't resist looking back, seeing Linley's gaze still fixed on her. She mustered her courage and said quickly, "Take your medicine on time and get plenty of rest!" Then, like a startled fawn, she turned and ran out.

Linley watched the retreating figure disappear through the doorway, then looked down at his hands. His fingertips seemed to still retain the warm touch of the towel from when she had wiped his cold sweat. He slowly raised his hand, his fingertips unconsciously brushing over the thick bandages on his chest. The pain was still there, and the weakness from his depleted magic lingered, but the anxious wasteland in his heart, frozen by the loss of power, seemed to have been infused with a faint, yet continuous, ray of warm sunshine.

Hogwarts' academic year, after a tumultuous period, finally sailed into a peaceful conclusion. As the examination week ended, a relaxed and joyful sense of parting filled the castle. The sunlight became scorching, and the Black Lake shimmered under the sun, as if scattered with diamond fragments.

After staying in the Hospital Wing for a full three weeks, Linley was finally "granted permission" by Madam Pomfrey to return to the tower to recuperate, but his activities were still strictly limited, and any use of magic was forbidden. The scorched wound on his chest had scabbed over, and the cracks at the edges had faded considerably. It no longer shimmered with silver light, but it left behind a hideous, permanent scar, as if struck by lightning. And the crucial Star Origin, like a dried, cracked riverbed, recovered extremely slowly. Madam Pomfrey admitted frankly that it would require years of patient nurturing, and in the short term, he could only be a "normal person" with magic so weak as to be almost indistinguishable from a Squib.

This news was undoubtedly a heavy blow to the proud Linley. On the day of his discharge, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were waiting at the entrance of the Hospital Wing early. When Linley walked out, dressed in his neat school robes, he seemed thinner than before, his face still carrying the paleness of illness, but his eyes were calm, showing little emotion. Only Hermione noticed his fingers, hanging at his sides, clench almost imperceptibly in the sunlight.

"Hey! Mate! You're finally out!" Ron said boisterously, clapping Linley on the shoulder (carefully avoiding his chest), "How are you feeling? Did Madam Pomfrey's potions pickle you too much?"

Harry also stepped forward with a smile: "Welcome back to the team! We've saved a lot of Chocolate Frogs for you!"

Linley nodded at them in response. His gaze swept over them, landing on Hermione, who followed a step behind. She had tidied her hair a little more today, her eyes sparkling with undisguised joy.

"Let's go," Hermione stepped forward, her voice light, trying to dispel the invisible heaviness. "Back to the tower! The Common Room is having a farewell party today, Fred and George have made a lot of... uh... improved Butterbeer." She didn't mention the magic, as if it were a trivial matter.

The four walked together down the sunlit corridor. Linley's pace was much slower than usual, and he was breathing a little heavily. Hermione naturally slowed her steps, walking slightly behind him, her gaze constantly monitoring his condition. Harry and Ron were excitedly discussing their holiday plans and rumors about the Quidditch World Cup ahead, their chatter echoing in the corridor.

Just as they were about to reach the spiral staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower, a gentle voice called out to them.

"Mr. Linley, Miss Hermione. Please wait a moment."

Headmaster Dumbledore appeared at the corner of the corridor, his silver-white beard shimmering in the sunlight, his sapphire eyes behind his half-moon spectacles filled with all-knowing wisdom and a hint of imperceptible gravity.

"Headmaster." The four stopped.

"Harry, Ron, please wait here for a moment." Dumbledore said with a smile, his gaze falling on Linley's still pale face and the outline of bandages beneath his robes on his chest, then on Hermione. "I have a few words I'd like to have with these two little heroes alone."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Though curious, they obediently walked a short distance away to wait.

Dumbledore led the two to a sun-drenched bay window nearby, overlooking the expansive Quidditch pitch and the rolling green hills in the distance.

"First, please allow me to express my deepest respect and gratitude once again." Dumbledore's voice was gentle and solemn, his gaze sweeping over Linley's still pale face and the faint outline of bandages beneath his robes on his chest, then resting on Hermione. "The courage, wisdom, and spirit of sacrifice you displayed in the incident protecting the Philosopher's Stone far exceeded your age. Hogwarts is proud of you."

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly as she subconsciously glanced at Linley beside her. Linley simply stood there calmly, his expression unreadable.

"The Philosopher's Stone has been personally retrieved and safely destroyed by Mr. Nicolas Flamel," Dumbledore continued. "Although Voldemort's remnant soul has escaped, this severe blow will prevent him from causing further trouble for some time. This brief peace was earned with your blood and courage."

He paused, his azure gaze becoming unusually profound, as if able to pierce through appearances and directly gaze into the origin of the soul. "Regarding Mr. Linley's injuries..." His voice deepened slightly. "For the damage to the Star Origin... I have consulted the ancient texts of the Star School. This innate power, originating from one's bloodline, cannot be restored by external potions. It can only rely on slow, internal nurturing and... a strong guiding will. Patience and time are the best medicines. Forcing it will only be counterproductive, causing irreparable damage." His gaze, with implied meaning, fell upon Linley's face.

Linley's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. Dumbledore knew! He even knew about the Star School!

"As for you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Hermione, filled with deep gentleness, "the power of the Moon White Stone is also ancient and mysterious. Its resonance with the Star Stone may become an unexpected aid in Mr. Linley's recovery. The will to protect can sometimes create miracles."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat, and she subconsciously tightened her grip on the Moon White Stone pendant at her chest. It was emitting a steady warmth. She looked at Linley, her eyes filled with determination.

"Finally," Dumbledore's tone carried a hint of seriousness, "the Ministry is paying close attention to this incident. Minister Fudge... well, he might wish to send someone to inquire about the detailed events during the summer holiday. Please be prepared." He winked suggestively, "Of course, how you choose to recount it is your freedom."

This news caused Hermione to frown slightly. Ministry intervention? That was hardly good news.

"Alright, that's all," Dumbledore resumed a relaxed tone. "Enjoy your holidays, children. Especially you, Mr. Linley, get plenty of rest. Your power will eventually return, in a more resilient form." He gave Linley a meaningful look and turned to leave.

Sunlight streamed through the bay window, warming them both. In the distance, on the Quidditch pitch, a few younger students clumsily chased a Bludger model on their brooms, their laughter faintly audible.

Linley silently gazed out the window. The sunlight fell on his sharply defined profile, his long eyelashes casting faint shadows beneath his eyes. The scar on his chest ached faintly beneath his clothes, and the depleted magic within him felt like a desolate, lifeless desert. Dumbledore's words, the Ministry's attention, felt like invisible shackles. The path ahead remained shrouded in mist.

Just then, a cool yet soft hand, cautiously, tentatively, gently took his hand hanging by his side.

Linley's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and he slowly turned his head.

Hermione was looking up at him, sunlight dancing in her brown eyes, sparkling with pure and resolute light. She didn't speak, just looked at him, her grip on his hand tightening slightly, as if wanting to transfer her own strength. Between their clasped hands, through the fabric of their clothes, the Moon White Stone emitted a clear, warm pulse.

That warmth, like a tiny current, flowed along their joined hands, slowly entering Linley's cold and weary body. He looked at the unwavering trust and determined will to protect in the girl's eyes, and the heavy desert within his heart seemed to be infused with a faint but incredibly resilient spring. He remained silent, not pulling his hand away, but instead, very subtly, squeezed back.

His power might be temporarily lost, but some things, after the storm, were quietly growing in another way, more enduring than the stars.