Train's Glimmer and the Sorting Hat's Whisper (Part 2)

The Gryffindor table erupted in warm applause and loud whistles from the Weasley twins. Ginny snatched off her hat as if burned and stumbled towards the table, head bowed so low she didn't dare look at anyone. She dove into the empty seat next to her brother, Percy, burying her head even deeper.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, but her brow remained furrowed. "She looks awful," she whispered into Linley's ear, her warm breath tickling his earlobe. "Worse than in Diagon Alley. That diary..."

"It's consuming her," Linley said, his voice low and certain, carrying a chilling coldness. "Silently, like a parasite." He looked at Ginny's frail form curled up beside Percy, as if he could see invisible black threads spreading from the diary in her arms, entangling her soul. The urgency to protect her weighed heavily on his heart.

The Sorting Ceremony continued, but Linley and Hermione's minds were no longer on it. The feast began, and the long tables were instantly piled high with abundant food. Hermione habitually placed a perfectly roasted lamb chop and some refreshing vegetable salad onto Linley's plate.

"Eat more, you need to recover," she said, her tone a little stubborn, as if completing an important task.

Linley looked at the perfectly arranged food on his plate, then at Hermione's earnest gaze, as if she wouldn't rest until he finished. The taut string in his heart, tightened by the Basilisk and Ginny, was quietly soothed by this everyday concern. He picked up his knife and fork and began to eat quietly, his movements refined but not slow.

Only then did Hermione begin eating her own food with satisfaction, occasionally whispering to Linley about a professor's new semester requirements or a class schedule that interested her. They sat close, their shoulders almost touching. Amidst the noisy dining hall, they created a quiet, tacit space. When Linley handed Hermione the mint jelly she couldn't reach, she accepted it naturally, a faint, sweet curve forming on her lips.

Harry and Ron, sitting opposite them, exchanged a knowing glance and buried their heads in their chicken legs.

The feast ended, and Dumbledore stood up to announce the new term's notices. When he mentioned, "Caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind everyone that magic is forbidden in the corridors between classes," and "Quidditch player selections will be held in the second week," the usual groans and cheers echoed through the Great Hall.

Then, he cleared his throat, a peculiar expression of mingled anticipation and helplessness on his face: "Finally, I am delighted to introduce our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the new academic year – Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!"

Lockhart immediately sprang up as if he had a spring in him, flashed a dazzling smile, bowed elegantly in all directions, his gold and red robes shimmering in the candlelight. The applause was sparse, especially lukewarm from the Gryffindor side. Ron even let out a loud boo, earning a stern glare from Percy.

Lockhart paid no mind. He straightened his back and began his speech in his magnetic voice (content omitted from original text):

"Dear students! It is my greatest honor to embark on a new magical journey with you all at Hogwarts—this hallowed hall that has nurtured countless legends! Here, we will explore the exquisite art of defensive magic together! From how to elegantly escape those pesky Cornish Pixies," he winked towards the Gryffindor table, "to how to calmly face... well, some more troublesome magical predicaments! I will impart my personal experiences wholeheartedly, helping you all become brilliant wizards like the protagonists in books! Remember, a smile, confidence, and a perfect hairstyle can sometimes resolve crises better than spells!" He smoothed his immaculate blond hair.

This flamboyant and hollow speech elicited looks of disappointment or amusement from many students (especially the older ones). Hermione's brow furrowed even tighter. She looked at Linley and whispered, "Can he... can he really teach us anything useful? Facing the 'evil within the walls'?"

Linley looked at the peacock-like man on the staff table, a faint, cold curve on his lips. "Counting on him?" His voice was so soft only Hermione could hear, filled with an all-knowing clarity. "Might as well count on Peeves suddenly developing a passion for studying." The Star Stone emitted a calm, unrippled warmth, as if confirming his judgment—this flashy showman was not worth mentioning. True danger and protection had always been related to themselves.

Hermione looked at Linley's calm and resolute profile, and her doubts and unease miraculously subsided. As long as he was by her side, no matter how unreliable Lockhart was, no matter how terrifying the evil within the walls, she felt she had the courage to face anything. Secretly, under the table, she hooked her little finger around Linley's. Linley didn't move, letting her soft fingertip twine around his. A silent warmth flowed between their clasped fingers, dispelling the gloom brought by Ginny from the corner of the hall and the flamboyant foam created by Lockhart.

The common room's fireplace crackled, warding off the slight chill of the September night. The red curtains and plush sofas exuded a warm and comfortable atmosphere. The first-years were led to their dormitories by Prefect Percy, while the older students gathered in twos and threes, excitedly discussing their summer adventures and new semester plans.

Hermione and Linley occupied a relatively quiet two-person sofa by the fireplace. Hermione spread out her Magical Drafts and Potions textbook, her brow slightly furrowed as if previewing Snape's lesson for tomorrow, but her gaze occasionally drifted to Linley, who was resting with his eyes closed beside her.

Linley appeared to be resting, but in reality, he was sorting through his chaotic thoughts: the diary in Ginny's hands, the Basilisk already active, Lockhart, that ticking time bomb, in place... Every step felt like walking on thin ice. The Star Stone at his chest steadily emitted warmth, like a lighthouse in the darkness, reminding him of his responsibilities and the people he must protect.

"Linley," Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts, with a hint of hesitation, "on the train... the spell you used to slow down Scabbers... it wasn't 'Immobilus', was it?"

Linley opened his eyes and met her gaze, full of curiosity and concern. He wasn't surprised by her sharpness. "Mm," he replied, not denying it, but not explaining in detail either. The abilities of a Son of Stars were too special; revealing them too early was unwise.

Hermione didn't press further. She just moved closer, her shoulder gently brushing his arm, bringing a reassuring warmth. "That diary... what should we do? Seeing Ginny... I..." Her voice held reluctance and anxiety.

"We can't force it," Linley's voice was low and clear. "The diary has a deep spiritual connection with its holder. Forcibly separating or destroying it could directly harm Ginny's soul." He recalled the method Harry used in the original story to destroy the diary—the Basilisk's fang. "It requires a specific power that can destroy its essential medium. And it requires the right timing." He had to wait, wait for the Basilisk to appear, wait for the opportunity to obtain its fang. It was passive, but necessary patience for Ginny's safety.

Hermione's breath hitched slightly, clearly startled by the possibility of "harming her soul." She instinctively grabbed Linley's arm: "Then... what can we do? We can't just watch her be... by that thing..."

"Protect," Linley said concisely. He turned his head, looking at Hermione's brown eyes, which seemed exceptionally bright in the firelight. "Pay attention to her abnormalities, protect her from physical harm, and most importantly," he paused, his tone becoming solemn, "prevent her from being completely controlled by the diary when she's alone and writing... dangerous things." That was the key to triggering a series of attacks.

Hermione nodded vigorously, her eyes becoming incredibly determined. "I understand! I'll pay attention! In the library, in the common room... I'll try to make sure she's not alone." She instantly found a goal for her actions.

Seeing the renewed fighting spirit and sense of responsibility in her eyes, a softness bloomed in Linley's heart. He raised his hand, hesitated, and finally gently brushed a slightly curled strand of hair from her cheek. His fingertips inadvertently grazed her warm earlobe.

Hermione's body visibly stiffened, and two red clouds instantly bloomed on her cheeks, more vibrant than the flames in the fireplace. She quickly lowered her head, pretending to focus on the textbook on her lap, but her slightly trembling eyelashes and accelerated heartbeat betrayed her fluster. Linley clearly felt the Star Stone emit a slightly rapid, warm pulse, mirroring his own now-unsettled heartbeat.

A subtle silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace and the distant laughter of other students. The air was filled with a sweet, heart-racing warmth. Hermione's toes unconsciously drew circles on the carpet. After a good while, she mumbled in a barely audible voice, "...Mom made two more of those orange cakes for you and put them in my trunk. I'll give them to you for breakfast tomorrow."

"Mm," Linley replied softly, looking at the girl's flushed ear tips. A warm current slowly spread through his quiet heart, temporarily suppressing the cold, heavy weight brought by the shadow of the Chamber of Secrets. He turned his gaze back to the dancing flames, silently clenching his fist.

The journey of protection had begun, the road ahead fraught with thorns, but the warmth beside him was his never-extinguishing light. Within Hogwarts' ancient stone walls, a silent war, bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace and the blush of a shy girl, had quietly commenced.