Train's Glimmer and the Sorting Hat's Whisper (Part 1)

Ginny's panicked footsteps gradually faded down the corridor, and the brief warmth in the compartment was replaced by an invisible tension. Ron was still muttering about his sister's strange behavior, while Harry watched the closed door with concern. Hermione's hand twitched slightly in Linley's palm, her fingertips conveying a silent question.

"It's fine," Linley replied in a low voice, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand in reassurance. His gaze, however, drifted thoughtfully towards Ron's old trunk, from which the corner of a black diary was peeking out. The object felt like a black hole radiating cold, and even through the leather of the trunk, the Star Stone in his chest continued to send out cold, astringent warnings.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to dispel the unease in her heart and pull her attention back to reality. "Ron, your trunk isn't closed properly." She reminded him in as normal a tone as possible, while also using the excuse of tidying her own bag on the luggage rack to subtly block Ron's view of Linley with her body.

"Oh! Damn rat, Scabbers!" Ron fumbled with the zipper of the trunk, shoving the restless rat cage further inside, complaining, "It keeps trying to get out lately, like it's possessed!" He slammed the trunk shut, and the ominous black diary was finally completely hidden.

A cold glint flashed in Linley's eyes. Peter Pettigrew was naturally afraid, Voldemort's aura was reawakening, and the diary, which held fragments of his soul from his youth, was now just a few feet away.

Hermione sat back down, pushing the remaining Orange Cake closer to Linley with an undeniable air of authority. "Finish it." The blush on her cheeks had not yet completely faded; the sensation of Linley's fingertips brushing her lips moments ago still lingered.

Linley obediently picked up his fork. The sweet aroma of the cake melted on his tongue, temporarily suppressing the cold discomfort from the Star Stone. He ate quietly, occasionally looking up to see Hermione engrossed in her newly purchased Intermediate Transfiguration Theory, but the tips of her ears were still faintly pink, and her long eyelashes cast small shadows beneath her eyes, making her appear exceptionally quiet and well-behaved. Sunlight streamed through the train window onto her fluffy curls, creating dancing points of warm light. An indescribable sense of peace and contentment flowed through Linley's heart like a warm stream, and the throbbing of the Star Stone also became calm and warm.

Just then, a sudden, ear-splitting noise, like fingernails scraping metal, pierced through the compartment door!

"Screeeech--!!!"

Following that was Ron's terrified scream and the clatter of the cage overturning!

"Scabbers! Come back!"

The cage door had been knocked open at some point, and Scabbers, the grey rat missing a toe, shot out from under the door like a grey lightning bolt, astonishingly fast!

"Stop it!" Ron lunged towards the door, fumbling with the handle.

Linley reacted even faster! The instant the noise sounded, he shot to his feet, his left hand darting out like lightning, not to grab the rat, but to precisely press against the metal door frame on the inside of the compartment!

Hummm--!

An invisible wave of magic fluctuation spread out from his palm! It wasn't a powerful impact, but rather carried a peculiar "sticky" and "retarding" effect, as if the air in a small area by the compartment door had instantly turned into semi-solid jelly!

Scabbers, who had just reached the edge of the door gap, stiffened abruptly! It was as if it had fallen into an invisible swamp, its four short legs paddling desperately, but only managing to churn the air in place, its speed reduced by ninety percent! Its terrified little eyes were filled with a human-like horror.

"Immobulus!" Hermione's spell followed closely! A blue light accurately hit the almost frozen Scabbers, completely immobilizing it in place, maintaining its comical pose of desperately trying to dash forward.

Harry also lunged forward, grabbing the petrified rat and shoving it back into Ron's still trembling hands.

"Th-thank you!" Ron gasped, clutching the still struggling rat tightly, his heart pounding. "Gods, was it possessed? What was that noise? It scared me to death!"

"It sounded like... infrasound from some powerful magical creature? Or... some kind of resonance?" Hermione frowned, looking warily towards the corridor outside. The source of the noise seemed to have vanished, and only confused murmurs from other compartments could be heard in the corridor.

Linley slowly withdrew his hand from the door frame, a faint tremor of magic lingering on his fingertips. He knew better than anyone the source of that noise—it was the low-frequency screech produced by the Basilisk moving deep within Hogwarts' ancient pipes, a sound imperceptible to most! Scabbers (Peter Pettigrew), as a former servant of Voldemort, had an instinctive, deep-seated fear of this aura representing absolute terror and death! The activation of the diary and the awakening of the Basilisk, a double stimulus, had completely shattered the rat's nerves.

"It might be old noises from the train pipes, or... some magical experiment gone wrong," Linley calmly offered a vague explanation, sitting back down and taking a sip of the pumpkin juice Hermione had poured for him earlier. He needed to maintain a calm exterior, but his heart was turbulent like undercurrents beneath a frozen lake—the Basilisk's activity was earlier and more frequent than he had anticipated. Danger was rapidly approaching.

Hermione looked at his calm profile, then at his left hand that had been pressed against the door frame. She keenly sensed that what Linley had just cast was not any of the immobilization spells she knew; it was a more direct application, closer to the origin of magic. Son of Stars... she chanted the title silently in her heart, a mixture of worry and deeper trust intertwining. She asked nothing, merely quietly poured some of her hot chocolate from her thermos into Linley's cup.

"Drink something hot, to calm your nerves," she said softly, her tone carrying an irrefutable concern.

Linley looked at the rising steam from the dark brown liquid in the cup, then at his reflection in Hermione's clear eyes. A warmth dispelled the chill brought by the Basilisk's screech. He lifted the cup, the warm liquid sliding down his throat, carrying the unique mellow aroma of cocoa and a hint of Hermione's sweetness.

"Mhm," he responded in a low voice, his gaze meeting hers for a fleeting moment. No more words were needed; worry and protection were all contained within this silent understanding.

***

Hogwarts' Great Hall forever shimmered with magically created starlight. Thousands of floating candles illuminated the ceiling as if it were daytime, and the four long tables were laden with gleaming golden plates and goblets. The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat, the sweetness of pumpkin pie, and the nervous excitement of the new students.

Linley, Hermione, Harry, and Ron sat at the Gryffindor long table. Hermione sat upright, her gaze fixed intently forward, her fingers unconsciously twisting the cuff of her robes. Linley could feel her tense nerves—the start 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!" a senior Gryffindor student was excitedly discussing.

"Merlin, is it true? I've collected all his signed cards!" a girl next to him exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

Ron made a gagging face, while Harry shrugged helplessly. Hermione's lips were pressed into a thin line, her expression complex; Lockhart's performance in Diagon Alley and Ron's "liar theory" clearly warred within her.

Linley's gaze swept over the noisy crowd, landing precisely on the seat at the end of the teachers' table. A crimson and gold robe, meticulously styled golden hair, and a signature smile that could blind people—Gilderoy Lockhart. He was waving to the crowd with exaggerated gestures, as if he were the center of the entire hall.

There was no ripple in Linley's eyes, only cold scrutiny. A hollow, superficial charlatan occupied the most crucial teaching post this year. He shifted his gaze, passing over the other teachers: Professor McGonagall remained stern, Professor Snape's gaze was as gloomy and cold as ever, sweeping over Potter with undisguised disgust. When Snape's gaze landed on Linley, his deep black eyes seemed to pause for a moment, with a look of inquiry and assessment. Linley met his gaze calmly, the Star Stone beneath his collar emitting a faint, wary chill. The insight of this Potions master was not to be underestimated.

Finally, Linley's gaze settled on the white-bearded old man at the head table. Albus Dumbledore was looking kindly at the boisterous students through his half-moon spectacles, his sapphire-blue eyes twinkling with all-knowing wisdom. When his gaze briefly met Linley's, Linley felt a gentle and profound resonant vibration from the Star Stone in his chest, as if silently acknowledging the greatest wizard of the age. Dumbledore nodded slightly at him, a subtle, meaningful curve forming at the corner of his lips.

The Sorting Ceremony began. The tattered Sorting Hat was placed on a high stool by Professor McGonagall. It twisted and opened its "mouth," and began to sing:

> "A thousand years of stone built this hall, > Four bloodlines flow within these walls. > The brave lion's heart fears no squall, > The wise badger's honesty warms all. > The eagle soars with truth's call, > The serpent slithers in shadows' thrall. > Put me on, hesitate not at all, > Listen to your heart's innermost call! > No matter where you may fall, > Hogwarts will guide you through it all, > Find your belonging, begin your glory's sprawl!"

As the song ended, the nervous first-years lined up to come forward. When "Ginny Weasley" was called, the entire hall fell silent for a moment. The little red-haired girl's face was as pale as a ghost, her steps faltering as she walked forward, her lips trembling slightly.

Hermione's hand suddenly gripped Linley's wrist under the table, her fingertips ice-cold. "Linley..." she whispered, her voice filled with worry.

Linley clasped her hand in return, his dry, warm palm enveloping her coldness. "Look," he replied in a low voice, his gaze sharp as a falcon's, fixed intently on Ginny.

The Hat had barely touched Ginny's fiery red hair before it shrieked, "Gryffindor!"