The Gryffindor table erupted in enthusiastic applause and the Weasley brothers' loud whistles. As if scalded, Ginny whipped off the hat and staggered toward the long table, keeping her head down the entire way, not daring to look at anyone. She threw herself into the empty seat beside Percy, one of her brothers, and buried her head low.
Hermione let out a breath of relief, though her brow remained tightly furrowed. "She looks terrible." Leaning close to Lynn's ear, her warm breath brushed his auricle. "Even worse than she did in Diagon Alley. That diary..."
"It is eating away at her." Lynn's voice was low and certain, carrying a chill. "Silently, like maggots clinging to bone." He watched Ginny's slender figure curled up beside Percy, as though he could see invisible black threads spreading from the diary in her arms and winding around her soul. The urgency to protect her weighed heavily on his heart.
The Sorting Ceremony continued, but Lynn and Hermione's minds were no longer on it. The feast began, and the long tables were instantly piled high with sumptuous food. Out of habit, Hermione placed a perfectly roasted lamb chop and several fresh vegetable salads onto Lynn's plate.
"Eat more. You need to recover." Her tone carried a hint of stubbornness, as if she were completing an important task.
Lynn looked at the just-right amount of food piled on his plate, then at Hermione's serious stare, as though she would not rest until he had finished it all. The taut string in his heart, tightened by the Basilisk and Ginny, was quietly soothed a little by this everyday concern. He picked up his knife and fork and began eating in silence, his movements refined but not slow.
Only then did Hermione begin eating from her own plate with satisfaction. From time to time, she quietly discussed a professor's requirements for the new term with Lynn, or the schedule of a class that interested her. They sat very close, their shoulders almost touching. Amid the noisy dining hall, a quiet, tacit little space formed between them. When Lynn casually handed Hermione the mint jelly she could not reach, she accepted it naturally, the corners of her mouth curving into a faint, sweet smile.
Harry and Ron, seated opposite them, exchanged a look that said, "Just as expected," then buried themselves in the chicken legs on their plates.
When the feast ended, Dumbledore rose to announce the new term's notices. When he mentioned that "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind everyone that magic is forbidden in the corridors between classes," and that "Quidditch tryouts will be held during the second week," the Great Hall filled with the customary groans and cheers.
Then he cleared his throat, wearing a curious expression that mixed anticipation with helplessness. "Finally, I am delighted to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for this school year—Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!"
Lockhart immediately sprang up as though fitted with a spring, flashed a dazzling smile, and bowed elegantly in every direction. His gold-and-crimson robes glittered under the candlelight. The applause was sparse, especially cold on the Gryffindor side. Ron even let out a loud boo, earning a stern glare from Percy.
Lockhart did not mind in the slightest. Straightening his back, he began his speech in that magnetic voice of his:
"Dear students! It is my greatest honor to embark with you upon an entirely new magical journey here at Hogwarts—a hall that has nurtured countless legends! Here, we shall explore together the exquisite art of Defensive Magic! From how to gracefully rid yourselves of troublesome Cornish Pixies," he winked toward the Gryffindor table, "to how to calmly face... well, certain more difficult magical troubles! I shall share every bit of my personal experience, helping you become wizards as dazzling as the heroes in books! Remember: a smile, confidence, and a perfect hairstyle can sometimes resolve a crisis better than a spell!" He smoothed his impeccably groomed golden hair.
This flashy, hollow speech made many students, particularly those in the upper years, look disappointed or amused. Hermione's brow furrowed even more tightly. Looking at Lynn, she murmured, "Can he... can he really teach us anything useful? When facing the 'evil in the walls'?"
Lynn looked at the man at the teachers' table, preening like a peacock, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a faint, chilly curve. "Rely on him?" His voice was so soft that only Hermione could hear it, carrying the calm certainty of someone who saw through everything. "We might as well hope Peeves suddenly develops a love of studying." The Star Stone gave off a tranquil, steady warmth, as if confirming his judgment—this showpiece was not worth mentioning. True danger, and the task of protection, had always been intimately tied to themselves.
Hermione looked at Lynn's calm, resolute profile, and the doubts and unease in her heart miraculously calmed down. So long as he was by her side, no matter how unreliable Lockhart was or how terrifying the evil in the walls might be, she felt she had the courage to face anything. Secretly, beneath the table, she hooked her little finger around Lynn's. He did not move, allowing her soft fingertip to curl around his. A silent warmth passed between their intertwined fingers, dispelling the gloom Ginny had brought into the corner of the Great Hall and the gaudy bubble Lockhart had created.
The fire in the Common Room crackled, driving away the slight chill of the September night. The red hangings and cushioned sofas gave off a warm, comfortable air. Percy, the prefect, led the first-years off to their dormitories, while the older students gathered in twos and threes, excitedly discussing their summer experiences and plans for the new term.
Hermione and Lynn occupied a relatively quiet two-seat sofa beside the fireplace. Hermione spread open her copy of Magical Drafts and Potions, her brow slightly creased as though previewing Snape's class for tomorrow, but her gaze kept drifting toward Lynn beside her, who seemed to be resting with his eyes closed.
Lynn appeared to be resting, but in truth, he was sorting through his tangled thoughts: the diary was in Ginny's hands, the Basilisk was already active, and Lockhart, that ticking bomb, was in place... Every step was like walking on thin ice. The Star Stone steadily radiated warmth against his chest like a beacon in the darkness, reminding him of the responsibility he bore and the people he had to protect.
"Lynn," Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts, carrying a trace of hesitation. "On the train... that magic you used to slow Scabbers down... it was not Immobulus, was it?"
Lynn opened his eyes and met her gaze, full of curiosity and concern. He was not surprised by her sharpness. "Mm." He answered without denying it, but neither did he explain in detail. The abilities of the Son of Stars were too unusual; revealing them too early would not be wise.
Hermione did not press him. She only moved a little closer, her shoulder lightly touching his arm and bringing a reassuring warmth. "That diary... what should we do? Seeing Ginny... I..." Her voice held pity and urgency.
"We cannot force it." Lynn's voice was low and clear. "The diary has a deep mental connection with its holder. Tearing it away or destroying it by force could directly damage Ginny's soul." He recalled how Harry had destroyed the diary in the original story—with a Basilisk fang. "We need a specific power capable of destroying the vessel of its essence. And we need the right moment." He had to wait: wait for the Basilisk to appear, wait for a chance to obtain its fangs. It was passive, but for Ginny's safety, the patience was necessary.
Hermione's breath caught slightly. Clearly, the possibility of "damaging her soul" had frightened her. She instinctively grabbed Lynn's arm. "Then... what can we do? We cannot just watch her be taken by that thing..."
"Protect her." Lynn was succinct. Turning his head, he looked into Hermione's brown eyes, which seemed especially bright in the firelight. "Watch for anything unusual, protect her from physical harm, and most importantly..." He paused, his tone turning grave. "Prevent her from being completely controlled by the diary when she is alone, and from writing... dangerous things." That was the key to triggering the series of attacks.
Hermione nodded hard, her gaze becoming incomparably resolute. "I understand! I will keep watch! In the library, in the Common Room... I will try my best not to let her be alone." In an instant, she had found a goal for herself.
Seeing the fighting spirit and sense of responsibility rekindled in her eyes, Lynn felt a softness rise in his heart. He raised his hand, hesitated for a moment, then gently brushed aside a strand of hair by her cheek that had curled slightly in the fire's heat. His fingertips inadvertently grazed her warm earlobe.
Hermione's body visibly stiffened, and two red clouds instantly bloomed across her cheeks, brighter than the flames in the fireplace. She quickly lowered her head, pretending to focus on the textbook in her lap, but her trembling lashes and racing heartbeat betrayed her fluster. Lynn clearly felt the Star Stone send out a slightly hurried pulse of warmth, like his own far-from-calm heartbeat.
A delicate silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling fire and the laughter and chatter of students in the distance. The air was suffused with a sweet warmth that made their hearts race. Hermione's toe traced unconscious circles on the carpet. After a long while, she muttered in an almost inaudible voice, "...Mum made two more Orange Cakes for you and put them in my trunk. I will give them to you at breakfast tomorrow."
"Mm." Lynn answered softly. Looking at the girl's crimson ear tips, a warm current slowly rippled across the still lake of his heart, temporarily suppressing the cold weight cast by the Chamber of Secrets. He turned his gaze back to the dancing flames and silently clenched his fist.
The journey of protection had already begun. The road ahead was thick with thorns, but the warmth at his side was his eternal source of light. Within Hogwarts's ancient stone walls, a silent war quietly drew back its curtain amid the fire's warm glow and a girl's shy blush.
Before you continue