Ginny's panicked footsteps gradually faded down the corridor. The brief warmth in the compartment was replaced by an invisible tension. Ron was still muttering about his sister's strange behavior, while Harry stared worriedly at the tightly shut door. Hermione's hand shifted slightly in Lynn's palm, her fingertips conveying a silent question.
"It's fine," Lynn replied softly. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand in reassurance, but his thoughtful gaze swept over Ron's old trunk, where the corner of a black diary protruded. The thing was like a black hole radiating coldness. Even through the trunk, it made the Star Stone against his chest send out a continuous, icy, sluggish warning.
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to dispel the unease in her heart and return her attention to reality. "Ron, your trunk isn't closed properly," she reminded him in as ordinary a tone as possible. As she stood to straighten the bag she had placed on the luggage rack, she cleverly used her body to block Ron's view of Lynn.
"Oh! Damn Scabbers!" Ron hurriedly grabbed the trunk's zipper and shoved the restless rat cage farther inside. "He's been trying to get out all the time lately, like he's possessed!" He slammed the trunk shut, finally hiding the ominous black diary completely.
A cold glint flashed through Lynn's eyes. Peter Pettigrew was naturally terrified. Voldemort's presence was reviving, and the diary carrying a Soul Fragment from his younger days was only a few feet away.
Hermione sat back down and pushed the remaining Orange Cake toward Lynn again, her tone carrying an air of unquestionable authority. "Finish it." The blush on her cheeks had not fully faded, and she could still seem to feel the touch of Lynn's fingertips brushing the corner of her lips.
Lynn obediently picked up his fork. The sweet fragrance of the cake melted across his tongue, temporarily suppressing the cold discomfort brought by the Star Stone. He ate quietly, occasionally glancing up to see Hermione absorbed in a newly purchased copy of Intermediate Transfiguration Theory. Yet the tips of her ears were still faintly pink, and her long lashes cast a small shadow beneath her eyes, making her look especially quiet and well-behaved. Sunlight streamed through the train window onto her fluffy curls, dancing in warm specks of light. An indescribable sense of peace and satisfaction flowed slowly through Lynn's heart like a warm stream, and the Star Stone's throbbing became calm and warm as well.
Just then, a sudden, piercing screech—like fingernails scraping across metal—ripped through the compartment door!
"Screeeech—!!!"
It was followed by Ron's terrified scream and the clatter of a cage toppling over!
"Scabbers! Come back!"
At some point, the cage door had been forced open. Scabbers, the gray rat missing a toe, shot beneath the gap under the door like a gray bolt of lightning, moving at a shocking speed!
"Stop him!" Ron lunged for the door, fumbling for the handle.
Lynn reacted even faster! Almost the instant the noise sounded, he sprang to his feet. His left hand shot out like lightning, but instead of grabbing for the rat, it pressed precisely against the metal doorframe inside the compartment!
Buzz—!
An invisible Magic Fluctuation suddenly spread outward from his palm! It was not a powerful impact, but something with a peculiar sticky, sluggish effect, as though the air in a small area around the compartment door had instantly turned into half-solid gel!
Scabbers, who had just reached the gap under the door, suddenly froze! It was as though he had fallen into an invisible swamp. His four short legs paddled frantically, but he could only claw uselessly at the air in place, his speed dropping by ninety percent! His terrified little eyes were filled with eerily human shock.
"Immobulus!" Hermione's spell followed immediately! A streak of blue light struck the nearly motionless Scabbers precisely, pinning him completely in place in the comical posture of desperately lunging forward.
Harry rushed over as well, grabbed the frozen rat, and stuffed him back into Ron's trembling hands.
"Th-thanks!" Ron panted heavily, clutching the rat that was still struggling uselessly. He looked badly shaken. "Merlin, has he gone mad? What was that noise just now? It scared me to death!"
"It sounded like... some kind of low-frequency sound from a powerful magical creature? Or... some kind of resonance?" Hermione frowned and warily looked out into the corridor beyond the door. The source of the noise seemed to have vanished. Only confused discussions from the other compartments remained in the corridor.
Lynn slowly withdrew his hand from the doorframe, his fingertips still tingling with a faint magical vibration. He knew better than anyone where that noise had come from—the low-frequency hissing emitted when the Basilisk moved through Hogwarts's ancient pipes, too subtle for ordinary people to notice! As Voldemort's former servant, Scabbers—Peter Pettigrew—had an instinctive, bone-deep fear of that presence, which represented absolute terror and death! The diary's activation and the Basilisk's awakening had delivered a double blow that completely shattered the rat's nerves.
"Probably an aging train pipe, or... some magical experiment gone wrong," Lynn calmly offered a vague explanation. He returned to his seat and took a sip of the pumpkin juice Hermione had poured for him earlier. He needed to maintain a calm exterior, but beneath it, his heart churned like dark currents under a frozen lake—the Basilisk was active earlier and more frequently than he had expected. Danger was closing in faster.
Hermione looked at his composed profile, then at the left hand he had pressed against the doorframe moments ago. She keenly realized that what Lynn had used was not any Binding Spell she knew. It was a more direct method, one closer to the Magic Source itself. Son of Stars... she silently repeated the title in her heart. Worry and a deeper trust intertwined within her. She did not ask anything. She simply poured some hot chocolate from her thermos into Lynn's cup.
"Have something warm. It'll settle your nerves," she said softly, her concern leaving no room for argument.
Lynn looked at the steam rising from the dark brown liquid in his cup, then at his own reflection in Hermione's clear eyes. A warm current drove away the chill brought by the Basilisk's hissing. He lifted the cup, and the warm liquid slid down his throat, carrying cocoa's distinctive richness and a trace of sweetness that belonged to Hermione.
"Mm," he answered quietly, meeting her gaze for an instant. No more words were needed. Their worry and protection lay within that silent understanding.
The Hogwarts Great Hall always gleamed with the dazzling starlight of magic. Thousands of floating candles illuminated the vaulted ceiling as brightly as day, while the four long tables were covered with shining golden plates and goblets. The air was thick with the savory scent of roast meat, the sweetness of pumpkin pie, and the nervous excitement of the new students.
Lynn, Hermione, Harry, and Ron sat at the Gryffindor table. Hermione sat upright, her eyes fixed intensely ahead as her fingers unconsciously twisted the sleeve of her robe. Lynn could feel her taut nerves—the beginning of a new school year, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and... the shadows cast by Diagon Alley and Ginny.
"I heard this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is Gilderoy Lockhart!" an older Gryffindor student said excitedly.
"Merlin, is that true? I've collected all of his signed cards!" a girl beside him exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with excitement.
Ron made a gagging face, while Harry shrugged helplessly. Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, her expression complicated. Lockhart's performance in Diagon Alley and Ron's claim that he was a fraud were clearly tugging at each other in her mind.
Lynn's gaze crossed the noisy crowd and settled precisely on the figure at the end of the teachers' table. Red-and-gold robes, carefully styled wavy blond hair, and that trademark smile bright enough to blind someone—Gilderoy Lockhart. He was waving dramatically at those around him, as though he were the center of the entire Great Hall.
There was no ripple in Lynn's eyes, only cold scrutiny. A useless show-off who had somehow taken the most critical teaching position of the year. He shifted his gaze, passing over the other teachers. Professor McGonagall was as stern as ever. Professor Snape's gaze was as gloomy and cold as always, carrying undisguised disgust when it swept over Potter. When Snape's gaze reached Lynn, those deep black eyes seemed to pause for an instant, carrying a hint of investigation and assessment. Lynn calmly met his eyes. Beneath his robes, the Star Stone gave off an extremely faint, wary chill. The insight of this Potions master could not be underestimated.
At last, Lynn's gaze settled on the white-bearded old man in the seat of honor. Albus Dumbledore looked kindly at the noisy students through his half-moon spectacles. Deep within his bright blue eyes gleamed the wisdom of one who understood everything. When his gaze briefly met Lynn's, Lynn felt the Star Stone against his chest emit a gentle yet profound pulse of resonance, as though silently greeting the greatest wizard of the age. Dumbledore gave him a slight nod, and the corner of his mouth curved into an almost imperceptible, meaningful smile.
The Sorting Ceremony began. Professor McGonagall placed the shabby Sorting Hat on a stool. It wriggled its split "mouth" and began to sing:
> "A hall of stones built through a thousand years, > Four bloodlines flow together here. > The lion's heart fears not wind or wave, > The badger's honesty keeps hearts brave. > The eagle soars toward truth's bright light, > The serpent slips through halls of night. > Put me on, do not hesitate, > Listen to what your heart will state! > No matter where you came from before, > Hogwarts will show you the way once more, > Find where you belong and claim your glory's door!"
When the song ended, the new students nervously lined up and stepped forward. When the name "Ginny Weasley" was called, the entire Great Hall fell silent for a moment. The red-haired girl was pale as a ghost. She walked forward unsteadily, her lips trembling faintly.
Under the table, Hermione suddenly grabbed Lynn's wrist, her fingertips ice-cold. "Lynn..." she called softly, her voice filled with worry.
Lynn clasped her hand in return, his dry, warm palm enclosing her cold fingers. "Watch," he replied just as quietly, his gaze sharp as a hawk's as it locked tightly onto Ginny.
The hat had barely touched Ginny's fiery red hair before it shrieked, "Gryffindor!"
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