The Purple Envelope and Orange Cake's Barrier

Linley suddenly pushed open the window, and the cool night breeze laden with moisture poured into the room. The sturdy barn owl immediately dropped the deep purple envelope from its talons precisely at his feet, letting out a short, urgent hoot before its wings beat and it vanished into the heavy night, as if lingering for even a second longer would invite some unseen terror.

Hermione was completely awake now, all sleepiness gone. She jumped off the bed, her bare feet landing on the slightly cool floor, and rushed to Linley's side, her gaze locked onto the letter on the ground as if it were a hot potato. "The Ministry of Magic..." Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly, her brown eyes filled with shock and worry. "What do they want?"

Linley bent down and picked up the envelope. It felt heavy in his hand, with the cool, resilient texture of magical parchment. At the seal, a complex, constantly twisting magical wax seal bore a faint magic fluctuation. The usual calm on his face was replaced by a frosty seriousness, his eyes sharp as blades as he scanned the ornate, cold recipient address – precise down to the Granger house number. The Ministry not only knew he was here, but they were also making no secret of their "attention."

"Read it," Hermione's voice was tight. She instinctively moved closer to Linley, as if drawing strength from him.

Linley channeled a sliver of his extremely weak (and remaining) will into his fingertips, easily breaking through the sealed wax – the Ministry's seal seemed ineffective against Star Power. He pulled out the thick parchment letter inside and unfolded it. Hermione immediately leaned in, their heads almost touching, reading by the dim light of the bedside lamp.

The letterhead bore the striking emblem of the Ministry of Magic. The body was written in an extremely official, cold, and irrefutable tone:

> Mr. Linley Evans: > > You are hereby summoned to attend a formal inquiry and record-taking at 10:00 AM on July 15, 1992, at Hearing Room Seven, Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, London, regarding your role in the "Philosopher's Stone Protection Incident" at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the end of the 1991-1992 academic year, the source of the special powers you displayed, and the detailed circumstances of your encounter with the remnant soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle (alias "Voldemort"). > > This inquiry has been personally authorized by Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge and will be presided over by Ms. Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. > > You may bring a guardian or an adult wizard to accompany you. > > Attendance is mandatory. Failure to attend will be considered contempt of Ministry authority and may result in subsequent compulsory summons and legal consequences. > > Department of Magical Law Enforcement > Department of Mysteries (Joint Issuance) > July 10, 1992

The air seemed to freeze. The cold words pierced the warm barrier of the Granger home like steel needles, casting the shadow of harsh reality nakedly upon them. Inquiry, source of special powers, remnant soul of Voldemort… every word carried heavy weight and dangerous implications. Personally authorized by Fudge, presided over by Bones! This was no ordinary inquiry; it felt more like the prelude to a trial!

"How... how could they do this?!" Hermione's voice rose in anger, trembling with disbelief. "You were injured protecting the Philosopher's Stone! You almost died! Instead of investigating Voldemort, they're going to question you?!"

Linley remained silent, his knuckles turning white from clenching the letter. The Star Stone on his chest continued to send a cold, sharp pain, reminding him of his depleted strength and his powerlessness at this moment. The Ministry's attention had come sooner, more directly, and more... malevolently than he had anticipated. Fudge's cowardice and fear of Voldemort's potential return had clearly twisted into an over-vigilance towards anything "abnormal."

"Guardian or adult wizard..." Hermione's mind raced, latching onto a key point. "My parents are Muggles! They can't go! Headmaster Dumbledore! We can ask Headmaster Dumbledore! He can definitely help you!" A spark of hope ignited in her eyes.

Linley slowly shook his head, his voice low and calm. "Dumbledore... is the Headmaster of Hogwarts and a party involved in the incident. The Ministry's actions might be a probe and an attempt to divide us." He folded the letter and put it back in the envelope, his movements betraying a suppressed restraint. "Besides, Fudge might not trust him right now."

The spark of hope was instantly extinguished. Hermione's heart sank, a wave of powerlessness and anger washing over her. She looked at Linley's pale, calm profile, at the faint outline of bandages beneath his school robes on his chest, and a fierce protectiveness mixed with heartache instantly overwhelmed her reason.

"I'll go with you!" she stood up abruptly, her voice decisive and unquestionable, with a hint of desperate resolve. "I'm an adult wizard! I can attend as your... your supporter! They won't bully you!" (For the sake of future plot development, Hermione's age is set to be adult.)

Linley looked up at her. The girl stood in the dim light, her figure slender, wearing only a hastily thrown-on cardigan over her nightgown, barefoot, her hair still a bit messy. But her brown eyes burned with a fierce flame, bright, resolute, and fearless. That courage to defy the entire Ministry's authority for his sake pierced through the gloom that had settled over his heart like a powerful beam of light. A strange, burning emotion churned in his dormant heart, almost bursting from his throat.

"Hermione..." His voice was a little hoarse.

"It's decided!" Hermione didn't allow him to argue, her tone unusually firm. "Tomorrow I'll write to Harry and Ron, have them think of something too! Or ask Mr. Weasley! He works at the Ministry!" She began pacing anxiously around the room, like a provoked lion cub, thinking of all possible countermeasures. "And that notebook! Professor Snape's notebook! It must have records of Star Power, maybe it can serve as proof of your power source? Or..."

"The notebook cannot be exposed," Linley immediately interrupted, his tone sharp. "Its origin cannot be explained, Snape's attitude is unclear, and the contents..." He thought of the dangerous deductions, "...are too sensitive."

Hermione stopped pacing and looked at his solemn eyes, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Then... then we'll argue our case!" She walked up to Linley, looking up at him, her eyes blazing. "Tell them the truth! Tell them how Quirrell was controlled by Voldemort, how you used the Star Stone's power to protect everyone! Tell them what price you paid for it!" Her voice choked slightly. "The Ministry must be reasonable!"

Reasonable? Linley looked at the pure belief in justice in Hermione's eyes, a bitter feeling rising in his heart. The Ministry under Fudge had long been eroded by fear and bureaucracy. But he didn't say it. At this moment, the flame burning in her eyes and her unreserved support were the only warmth he could grasp.

"Mhm," he finally just responded softly. This single sound contained too many complex emotions – acknowledging her accompaniment, and accepting her heavy sincerity.

"Alright!" Hermione took a deep breath, as if making a decision, forcefully suppressing the anxiety and anger in her heart. She bent down and picked up the pillow that had fallen on the floor earlier, dusted it off, then walked to the desk and picked up the empty vial of calming draught. "Now, you need to rest!" Her tone returned to its usual methodical manner, but with an undeniable assertiveness. "There are still five days until the 15th! For these five days, your task is to rest well, take my improved potion on time, and adjust your condition! Leave the rest to me!"

Without further ado, she pushed Linley back onto the bed. Her movements were clumsy but gentle. "Lie down! Close your eyes! Don't think about anything!" She herself, holding the pillow, sat back in the chair by the bed, looking ready to stand her ground.

Linley looked at her face, which was trying hard to appear calm but still held traces of shock and worry in her eyes. The cold sting in his chest seemed to be suppressed by another, more surging emotion. He lay down as instructed and closed his eyes. In the darkness, his senses became sharper. He could hear Hermione's deliberately slowed breathing, feel her protective gaze upon him, and the faint, fresh scent of sun-dried grass emanating from her.

After a long time, so long that Linley thought she had fallen asleep, a very soft, slightly uncertain voice sounded in the darkness:

"Linley... back at Camphor House... did you always face... everything alone like this?"

Camphor House... fragments of cold memories instantly pierced his mind: empty corridors, indifferent faces, nights without sharing, corners where he licked his wounds alone... that deliberately forgotten loneliness, like a cold tide, tried to engulf him again.

Linley's body tensed almost imperceptibly, and he didn't answer immediately.

Hermione seemed to sense his stiffness, her voice becoming even softer, a tentative probe filled with deep concern. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have asked... I just... I just feel like... from now on... you won't be alone anymore."

In the darkness, a cool but exceptionally soft hand, with a hint of hesitation and immense courage, gently, tentatively rested on the back of his hand, which was outside the blanket. Her fingertips trembled slightly, yet were remarkably firm.

The cold tide seemed to encounter an impregnable dam and instantly stopped, receding. A surge of warmth flowed from their clasped hands, instantly drowning out all the cold memories that tried to fight back. The Star Stone on his chest pulsed with a clear, warm beat, stronger than ever before.

Linley turned his hand, no longer a slight response, but with an almost stubborn force, he tightly grasped her hand. Their palms met, fingers intertwined. Her fingertips were still cool, but strangely warmed his icy skin, transmitting a reassuring, continuous heat.

He didn't speak, just held her hand tighter, as if it were the only anchor in a storm.

Hermione's body stiffened slightly at his sudden firm grip, then relaxed completely. She didn't pull her hand away, instead adjusting her posture to sit more comfortably, holding his hand more securely in her cool yet steady palm.

In the darkness, only their synchronized, steady breaths remained, and the silent flow of warmth transmitted from the tight connection of their palms. The moonlight outside moved quietly, casting the shadow of their clasped hands onto the deep blue starry-moon bedsheet, like some eternal contract.

After an unknown amount of time, Hermione leaned back against the chair, her breathing becoming even and deep. She had fallen asleep, but she never let go of Linley's hand.

Linley opened his eyes in the darkness. He didn't move, just quietly felt the real, warm touch in his palm, the subtle vibration from the girl's steady breathing beside him. The Star Stone on his chest continued to radiate warmth, like a tiny ember ignited, dispelling the bone-chilling cold brought by the Ministry's letter.

The cold memories of Camphor House, the Ministry's aggression, Voldemort's lingering shadow... all of it was still there. But now, in this darkness shrouded by moonlight and the scent of the girl, in the unreserved protection held in his palm, Linley clearly felt for the first time that something had changed forever. He was no longer alone. He had someone to protect, and someone protecting him. This heavy connection, like the sweet fragrance of orange cake, seeped into the crevices of his soul, quietly growing tenacious roots beneath the cold starlight.