Lynne
The air inside her trunk felt heavy. Lynne sat cross-legged on the floor, she could see in the dark without issues so no candles were lit. Her metal hands rested on her knees, palms open, as she tried to steady her breathing. Exhaling slowly, she found herself growing calmer.
The silence inside the trunk had always been comforting, like a bubble untouched by Hogwarts' chaos. Lately, she hadn't even spent the night in Harry's room, disturbed by the voice in her head growing stronger. Tonight, silence was no sanctuary, as the voice creeped inside her thoughts again, it carried with it feelings of guilt.
It made her relieve the memory of the crunching sound of bones breaking beneath the boulder. The rat bones and the death of the small rodent. Just the sound, and the truth of what she had done.
You shouldn't have done that.
The voice was soft, almost gentle now. It didn't scream or raise its voice, it didn't accuse her with venom. It even sounded worried now, and that made it worse. Lynne pressed her fingertips against her temples, the cold metal grounding her as she breathed through the wave of guilt that rose like bile in her throat.
"My master has to have an important reason." she whispered into the dimness, voice flat, hoping it would sound convincing.
But it was a rat, a little boy's pet, it was scared. You heard its heartbeat, didn't you?
She had, like with every target she had to eliminate. The last frantic drumbeat beneath fur, fading as the rock came down. She remembered the slight twitch of its tail, the soft huff of air, the moment before the world fell silent.
"I didn't want it to suffer."
The words pressed against her chest, heavy as iron. She rocked forward slightly, fingers digging into her hair, closing her eyes to shut out the phantom images of red fur, of Ron's bright, hopeful face. He wouldn't find the rat anymore, even if he thought it was a useless pet.
In the dark of the trunk, shadows danced across the wooden frames etched on the walls, the lines that Thorne had carved to anchor her safe space. This place, once sacred, now felt like a cage.
You need to change.
"I won't, my master needs me." she said, louder now, forcing her eyes open, forcing herself to see the room, the cold reality of her mission. "That is what matters."
I will make you change.
"No. I'm in control."
Are you?
Lynne's breath stuttered, catching on the edge of a sob she refused to let out. Her hands trembled as she lowered them, placing them flat on the floor, palms down to steady herself. The cold seeped into her skin, reminding her she was here, she was alive, she had a purpose.
"It was necessary." she repeated, softer this time, as if trying to convince herself. "I won't change a thing."
You didn't even know why. He didn't tell you why.
"Shut up."
She closed her eyes again, the image of Thorne's calm presence filled her mind. She vividly remembered the sound of his footsteps, the sound of his cane against the floor. His calm demeanor and collected mind grounding her, giving her purpose.
What if you hurt someone who didn't deserve it?
She clenched her jaw, forcing her breathing back into rhythm. She counted her breaths, her fingers drumming lightly on the floor with each exhale, again her master's voice keeping her mind focused.
I will not let you become a monster.
"No." The word was sharp, final. "You will do nothing, because you can do nothing." Slowly she opened her eyes with determination.
We shall see about that.
"We won't."
Finally she opened her eyes and stood up. She tidied her clothes and picked up her journal, she wrote down her conversation and how her fears progressed. Thorne would be able to help her at some point, she was sure about it. The voice was getting to be a bigger challenge than she anticipated, but she would overcome it.
Hair pale, eyes too bright, face too calm for someone who felt like they were screaming inside. Protect Harry, she told herself, the mantra that had carried her through blood, fear and pain. That's your main mission, with a mission you have purpose with a purpose you are in control.
The voice sighed softly in her mind, a sound like wind across glass. Lynne closed her eyes, pulling out her wand and cleaning the dust off her skirt with a quick flick of her wrist.
"I won't fail." she whispered.
Even if her hands trembled, even if the guilt burned, she would not fail her master or her mission.
----0000----
Lynne
Lynne stood by the corridor arch near the Great Hall, blending into the shadows as students passed, her arms folded behind her, expression calm. She had no classes today, so she used the morning to observe the hall traffic, but even she was unprepared when Ron Weasley stormed down the corridor, clutching an empty rat cage against his chest.
"Have you seen him?" Ron's voice was hoarse, too loud in the quiet hall, as he stopped a younger Hufflepuff and grabbed his shoulder. "Scabbers, my rat, have you seen him?"
The boy shook his head quickly, eyes wide, and Ron let him go, moving on, asking another pair of Ravenclaws, then a Slytherin who scowled and pushed him off. Each time, Ron's grip on the cage tightened, the thin metal door rattling with every step. Lynne could see the hope draining from his eyes each time he got another no.
He turned and spotted her, standing perfectly still, her posture giving nothing away. His steps faltered, but he approached, desperation softening his anger, his freckles standing out against pale skin.
"Lynne, have you seen Scabbers? He's… he's missing." Ron said, voice breaking on the last word. He held out the cage slightly, as if showing her the emptiness would help. She looked at him, the boy's blue eyes swimming with unshed tears.
She kept her face blank, saying nothing, her eyes holding his. She could feel the curse almost tearing her mind apart, but she quickly thought of a way to calm it down. She technically hadn't seen the rat today and he gave no timeframe. The voice in her head urged her to say something, anything, to ease the boy's fear.
Tell him you're sorry.
Lynne stayed silent. Her fingers pressed lightly against her skirt, the only sign of tension in her posture. Ron's eyes darted across her face, searching for an answer, a clue, anything.
"It's my pet rat." Ron's voice was small now, shaking.
Lynne's mouth opened, but no words came. Her silence stretched, heavy, as the boy's hope cracked. Ron's shoulders slumped, and he pulled the cage back against his chest, hugging it like a child might clutch a worn toy.
He didn't look at her again as he turned and walked away, the quiet sounds of his choked sobs trailing after him as he disappeared down the hall. Lynne closed her eyes for a moment, letting the guilt wash through her before she forced it down, locking it beneath her control.
She could still hear the metal door of the cage rattle with Ron's steps. She turned and walked away, her pace measured, ignoring the tightening in her chest and the way her mind replayed Ron's trembling voice.
She had chosen her mission, and with that choice came consequences. The voice sighed softly in her mind, disappointed but not angry, and Lynne found that harder to ignore than any shouted accusation.
She needed to find a better way to calm her mind, she had prepared for years but it seems she needed more time in the end.
----0000----
Hermione
Hermione tied her hair back, clutching her wand inside her robes for the fifth time. Beside her, Harry adjusted the invisibility cloak, spreading it carefully so it would cover them all. Lynne stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the courtyard below with that stillness that made it hard to guess what she was thinking.
They had been waiting all morning, tracking Crabbe and Goyle's routine the way Lynne had instructed. It wasn't complicated. The two Slytherins always carried extra snacks after breakfast, wandering off to a quiet corner near the greenhouse steps to eat in peace.
"It has to be precise." Lynne whispered, pulling out her wand. "The Confundus charm won't last that long and is better if we make them head to the common room as it is ending so that they don't seem drunk."
Hermione gave a small nod. "We have gone through the plan plenty of times already. We got it."
Harry glanced at Hermione, then at Lynne, swallowing down the nerves tightening in his chest. They slipped under the cloak, Lynne moving behind them without needing to see her feet to know where to step. She was silent, as always, her presence more felt than heard.
They found Crabbe and Goyle near the greenhouse path, sitting on the stone steps with pockets full of stolen pastries. Their laughter echoed against the wall, and they didn't notice anything amiss.
Hermione took a breath, counted silently, and met Harry's eyes.
"Now." Lynne said softly.
Hermione stepped out, casting the Confundus Charm at Crabbe while Lynne's wand flicked toward Goyle. Both boys froze mid-argument, blinking rapidly, confusion settling into their features as their fists unclenched.
"You werewalking to your common room." Lynne guided, stepping in front of them.
"Oh so we were." said Crabbe and Goyle glanced at him, then nodded slowly, both turning and heading toward the Slytherin common room.
Lynne followed, Hermione and Harry slipping under the invisibility cloak as they trailed close, careful to match the slow, uncertain pace of the two boys. The dungeons were way colder than the rest of Hogwarts, the stone walls damp with winter's chill.
The air smelled of earth and something sharper, like stale water. Their footsteps echoed softly, but Lynne's were silent, her boots barely touching the ground as she moved. They reached the Slytherin entrance, a bare stretch of stone wall near a dripping pipe.
Goyle stood in front of a small snake. "Pureblood." he said.
The wall slid open without sound, revealing the way into the Slytherin common room, cold green light spilling across the floor. Crabbe and Goyle stepped inside, and Lynne followed immediately, Hermione and Harry pressed close under the cloak, careful not to touch the damp walls as they descended.
Inside, the common room was nearly empty, just a few younger students huddled near the fireplace. Malfoy sat in one of the high-backed chairs, legs crossed, gesturing as he spoke, his voice sharp and confident.
"Oh you are here earlier, I'm sure you guys managed a new record with the amount of snacks you took." Malfoy said, smirking. "No wonder you look dazed, eating too much too quickly is not good guys."
"I'm still hungry." Mumbled Goyle to the perplexed look of Draco.
"I want to sit down." said Crabbe and they huddled together at one of the common room tables.
"You know, I'm surprised The Daily Prophet hasn't reported on all these attacks. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. Father always said that Dumbledore was the worst thing that ever happened to this place." said Malfoy, clearly a gossip queen.
Hermione wanted to curse the blonde boy already. In their confused states, neither Crabbe or Goyle answered immediately, still processing what he said. Lynne seemed to have done something with Goyle and he finally grunted an answer.
"People seem to think Potter could be the heir of Slytherin. Can you believe that?"
Malfoy scoffed. "Yeah, they are delusional."
"Do you know who it is?" asked Crabbe.
"I don't, Crabbe. But my father did say this. It's been fifty years since the Chamber was opened. He wouldn't tell me who opened it, only that they were expelled. The last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died, so it's only a matter of time before one of them is killed this time. As for me... I hope it's Granger."
Hermione felt her jaw tighten, her wand hand flexing under the cloak. Harry's hand brushed against hers briefly, reminding her to stay still. She forced herself to listen, ignoring the pounding in her ears.
"Whoever it is, they've got the right idea. Hogwarts shouldn't be full of Mudbloods and blood traitors. Maybe it's a message."
Hermione knew now that Malfoy didn't know anything. He was posturing, enjoying the fear, but it was clear he had no idea who the heir was. Hermione forced herself to focus on Malfoy's words, memorizing every sentence, while Lynne stood just behind the chair, her blue eyes fixed on the boy's face, unblinking.
A clock chimed faintly somewhere above, and Lynne turned her head slightly.
"Time." she whispered, just enough for Hermione to hear.
They stepped back, Hermione careful not to let the cloak rustle, Harry holding his breath. Lynne moved without sound, her eyes scanning the exits before guiding them toward the common room door.
Crabbe and Goyle stood blinking behind, the Confundus charm lifting as they looked at each other, confused about their last minutes. Malfoy was still rumbling in gossip. They had to wait for a student to exit to slip out, the wall sealing behind them.
Lynne didn't spare them a glance as she led Harry and Hermione back through the dungeons, the path memorized, every turn planned. Hermione felt her heart settle as the dark corridors gave way to the torch-lit halls of the main castle.
Once clear, Harry lifted the cloak, letting the cold air touch their faces again.
"He doesn't know anything." Harry said, relief and frustration mixed in his voice.
Hermione nodded, pushing hair from her face.
"At least we know now."
Lynne glanced at them, her face as calm as it had been at the start, but her eyes lingered on Hermione for a moment, unreadable.
"Most of the older students don't know either, they really think they are safe in their common room." Lynne said. "Good to know."
Then she turned, walking ahead without waiting for a reply. Harry exchanged a look with Hermione before following.
----0000---
Lynne
The trunk felt colder than usual when Lynne climbed inside. She sealed the lid behind her, shutting out the warmth of Ravenclaw Tower. The faint hum of magic in the walls steadied her thoughts as she moved to the small wooden desk in the corner.
She unlatched the black journal Thorne had given her. Its surface shimmered slightly as she opened it, the runes hidden under the leather glowing faintly when touched by her fingers. She flipped past the last written page, stopping when fresh lines formed, ink bubbling up as if it had always been waiting for her.
The words wrote themselves in Thorne's tidy, deliberate script.
Target: Ginny Weasley.
Extract a black diary from her possession.
Keep it secured until further notice.
Ensure she does not remember.
Lynne read the lines twice, the final word sinking in like a stone. She could feel the faint thrum under her skin, the voice that had been quiet since the infiltration surfacing again.
Another Weasley? The voice felt closer now, almost brushing against her thoughts like a careful hand. You see it too. Why is he targeting them?
"Mmm, a diary? She may be connected to the attacks." Lynne said, her tone steady, eyes fixed on the drying ink. "Is she like me? Receiving orders?"
She is a child. Like the rat was a pet.
She closed the journal slowly, pressing her palm to the cover until the runes dulled and faded. The cold wood beneath her hand grounded her, but the voice pushed back harder than before. There was no anger in it, just a soft persistence that made it impossible to ignore.
I wonder how long you can keep this up.
Lynne stood, moving to the narrow shelves above her bed. She set the journal in its hidden compartment, covering it with a folded blanket. Her hands were steady, but her chest felt too tight, like her ribs were binding in on themselves.
"As long as I need to." she said quietly, adjusting the blanket until it lay flat.
We shall see.
Lynne tapped her temple lightly with her metal fingertips a few times, the old gesture to push the voice deeper. It always quieted but didn't disappear.
She crossed the room. Her thoughts drifting to the secondary mission. The trunk's heavy wards were enough to keep any object hidden if necessary, even a person. She ran her thumb along the edge of the satchel, testing the seams, checking the small lock that only she could open.
She pulled open a drawer, removing a small, folded cloth with calming runes stitched into the hem, her master's design. She pressed it to her chest for a breath, feeling the tension ease slightly.
"I'm working to keep Harry safe. It's my mission after all." she said under her breath, her voice barely louder than the faint rustle of the trunk's wards.
Lynne tucked the cloth away, snapped the satchel shut, and sat down on the edge of her cot. She checked her blade, the black one resting in its sheath beside her. Clean, sharp, a reminder of who she was built to be.
She stared at the candle on her desk, unlit but steady. She didn't need the flame to see in the dark. She closed her eyes for a moment. The voice didn't appear again in her head.
Lynne opened her eyes, her expression calm, and reached for her wand to check the trunk's locks one last time. Everything was ready, she would find Ginny and she would do what needed to be done.
With the mission and her mind clear, she stood, movements precise as she secured the satchel and fixed the straps across her shoulder. The journal's instructions still echoed in her mind, but she forced the words to settle into something cold and manageable.
She would not fail. Not her master and not Harry.
----0000----
Harry
Harry tied his gloves with quick, practiced motions, flexing his fingers before slipping them around the handle of his broom. The morning was cold, the frost still clinging to the edges of the pitch as the teams gathered, blue and yellow robes bright under the pale sky.
The Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff match was about to start. Harry's nerves thrummed under his skin, but he forced himself to breathe steadily, scanning the pitch for any changes in wind or the glint of gold that might betray the Snitch early on.
He could hear the chatter of students filtering into the stands, the crackle of Madam Hooch's whistle as she barked at players to line up.
"Remember, ignore the bludgers, Harry." Lynne said as she adjusted the strap on her beater's bat for better grip, her voice even, eyes forward. She didn't need to look at Harry to remind him she would be watching him during the game.
"Right." Harry muttered, rolling his shoulders.
Lynne's hair was tied back, pale and blonde strands catching the light as she stepped onto the field. They quickly flew into the starting position. Lynne had her bat resting against her shoulder, casual, but her eyes swept the air above them, already planning where to move first probably.
Madam Hooch blew the whistle and the Quaffle shot into the air, players surged forward, and the bludgers exploded from their restraints, rocketing across the pitch like cannonballs. Harry climbed quickly, the cold air biting against his face, eyes darting for the smallest flicker of gold while he kept to the edge of the chaos below.
A bludger shot towards him but he forced himself not to flinch, a crack immediately followed, Lynne's bat meeting iron with precise force as she redirected it back into the field, away from Harry's path.
He glanced down just long enough to see her already turning, her bat raised again as another bludger came screaming toward her. She pivoted, metal arms moving with a cold efficiency that made Harry's stomach twist for reasons he couldn't place.
Ravenclaw scored once, twice, Jeremy's cheers echoing as he swept past the goalposts, but Harry stayed high, ignoring the cold seeping into his gloves. He saw the Snitch once, a glint of gold near the Hufflepuff stands, but it vanished before he could dive.
Below, Lynne cleared a path for her team, her strikes measured, each hit knocking the bludgers away from Ravenclaw chasers while forcing Hufflepuff's players to swerve. She never shouted, never celebrated a good hit, never flinched when the bludger's rebound came close to her ribs.
Harry dropped lower, scanning, the air rushing past him. The Snitch flickered near the Ravenclaw goals and this time he dove as fast as possible. The wind roared in his ears as he pushed the broom to its limit, the cold forgotten as focus narrowed to a single point of gold darting low across the pitch.
Behind him, a bludger changed direction, aiming straight for him. A crack cut through the air and Lynne had appeared beneath him, her bat slamming the bludger sideways, sending it veering into empty space.
She didn't look at him as she adjusted, turning to catch another bludger with the flat of her bat, deflecting it away from the chasers without breaking rhythm. Ever since the first match, it seemed the bludgers on Ravenclaw's games were rigged to dart towards Harry more frequently. It didn't seem to matter as Lynne's defense was impressive. So much so that Jeremy's strategy had her watching over him specifically all game.
Harry reached, fingers closing around the Snitch just as it darted upward, its wings fluttering violently in his grip. The pitch exploded with noise as Madam Hooch's whistle blew, signaling the end.
The entire match lasted barely five minutes. Harry hovered, catching his breath, the Snitch trembling against his glove. He glanced down, spotting Lynne circling once, both bludgers safely tucked in her hands, violently trying to escape her grasp but to no avail. She safely stored them back and Madam Hooch thanked her for the trouble. She then landed towards the rest of the team with her usual quiet steps, the bat resting over her shoulder again as if it had all been routine.
"Nice job." she said when Harry landed, her voice was as even as ever.
"Thanks." Harry managed, his chest still heaving, a grin breaking over his face as the rest of the team crowded around, laughter and cheers filling the pitch.
"You were awesome, Harry! That must be a new record, fastest match I've ever seen. That cup is as good as ours!" Jeremy said.
----000----
Lynne
Lynne stepped back, letting them have their moment, her eyes drifting back to the sky as the cold wind pulled at the edge of her robes. Her hand adjusted the satchel at her side, the reminder of her mission sitting quietly even as the team's joy spilled around her.
Her gaze returned to Harry, watching him laugh as Jason clapped him on the back. For a moment, her expression softened, almost unnoticeable, before her eyes sharpened again.
Lynne turned, bat in hand, and followed the team off the pitch, her steps calm, the cold wind swirling behind her as the echo of the crowd faded into the winter air.
----0000----
Night draped itself over Hogwarts, cold air slipping through the cracks of the old stone as the castle settled into an uneasy quiet. Lynne moved through the dark corridors without hesitation, each step calculated, measured and soundless. She didn't need the light to guide her.
She knew Ginny Weasley's routine by now. The girl would slip out from Gryffindor Tower after dinner, although the destination was different each time, she always went past the same hallway. Lynne had seen her once near the second-floor corridor, pale, clutching her books with white-knuckled hands, her eyes unfocused as if she were trying to remember where she was.
Tonight, Lynne waited near the second-floor staircase, her presence hidden by the shadows, leaning lightly against the wall, her arms crossed. Footsteps approached, light and hesitant.
Lynne's eyes tracked the movement before the sound even registered fully. Ginny appeared, alone, a scarf wrapped too tightly around her neck, her head down, hair a flicker of red in the darkness.
The voice brushed against Lynne's mind, soft, wary.
She's just a child.
"I'm also just a child." Lynne replied under her breath, eyes narrowing, focusing her breath, her will, letting her mind settle into the cold clarity of the mission.
Ginny paused near the banister, fingers tightening on the railing. She looked over her shoulder, a nervous habit Lynne had noted, and then she continued, turning toward the abandoned corridor where Myrtle's bathroom sat.
"Ginny."
The girl froze, her head snapping up, eyes wide. Fear and confusion washed over her features, her mouth opening but no sound coming out. The shadows clung to Lynne as she stepped closer, her presence controlled, deliberate.
"You need to come with me." Lynne said calmly.
Ginny shook her head, stepping back. "W-what? Wh-ere… where am I?"
Her eyes flickered, pain crossing her face, her hand clutching at her chest as if something inside her had pulled tight. She swayed, tears springing to her eyes, a choked sob slipping from her lips.
Lynne moved, catching Ginny before she could fall, steadying her with practiced ease. Ginny tried to push away, weakly, but her limbs didn't have the strength, her fear dissolving into confusion as her eyes unfocused, her breathing shallow.
"Don't worry. You are not in trouble." Lynne said softly, the words mechanical, but her grip gentle. With a quick flick of her wand, now in her hand, she put her to sleep.
The voice pressed closer in her mind.
She's scared.
"I know, she wasn't herself, I saw no lies in her eyes."
With another quick flick of her wand, Lynne cast a silencing charm around them, the air thickening, isolating the hallway from any passing prefects or ghosts. She shifted Ginny's weight, lifting her with ease, cradling the girl against her as if she were only helping her back to her dormitory.
Ginny's eyes fluttered, her lips moving, mumbling in her sleep. "Tom… Tom told me… to…"
Lynne's jaw tightened. She adjusted her grip, holding Ginny with one arm as she commanded the butterfly in her hair to turn into her trunk. The wood rippled, expanding, and she stepped through, pulling them both into the safety of her trunk's hidden space.
The door sealed behind them, muffling the world outside. She lowered Ginny onto the cot, checking her pulse, ensuring she was breathing.
She pointed her wand at her again. "Rennervate." The girl's eyes flickered open for a moment, tears spilling, her lips trembling.
"I'm sorry." Ginny whispered, her voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to… it was Tom…"
Lynne didn't answer. She reached into the girl's robes, feeling the sharp pulse of dark magic that clung to the black diary hidden within the folds. Carefully, she pulled it free, holding it up under the quiet light of the runes in her trunk.
It was cold, heavier than it should have been, the cover plain but wrong, a whisper of something old brushing against her fingertips. It was cursed with the thickness of dark magic.
"This is not safe for you, Ginny." Lynne replied, her voice even, though her hand tightened on the diary. "I'm sorry but I will take this."
Ginny's breathing calmed, her eyes closing as exhaustion overtook fear.
"Thank you." she said in a whisper.
"You can rest here tonight, I will take you to your common room."
Lynne stepped back to let her rest, the diary in her hand, her eyes sharp as she studied it, the weight of the object anchoring her to the moment. She quickly pulled her satchel open and stored it inside.
Well, I must admit she was in trouble.
"I told you, master wouldn't target an innocent." Lynne muttered, smiling truthfully for the first time in a long while.
The diary sat on the desk, its black cover catching the low rune-light that pulsed quietly around Lynne's trunk. It looked ordinary, unimposing, the kind of thing a first-year would use for notes or small dreams they were too shy to share aloud.
But Lynne felt the dark magic pulsing from it like a heartbeat, slow, patient, waiting. Ginny slept on the cot, wrapped in a soft blanket, her breathing shallow but steady. Her hair was fanned across the pillow, cheeks pale, her face the picture of exhaustion.
Lynne watched the rise and fall of her chest, confirming again that she was stable before pulling out her wand and aimed at her. The voice stirred, cautious.
I don't like this.
"I will be gentle. I want to know what it did to her." she replied, her fingers flexing slightly before she reached out.
"Legilimens."
Lynne closed her eyes, she pushed her mind forward, slipping into the thin seam of magic that tied Ginny's memories. The runes in the trunk's walls glowed brighter, anchoring her as she slipped deeper, the world around her darkening as her mind touched the chaos within.
It was like falling into cold water. Images snapped into focus: Ginny in her bed, writing in the diary, tears on her cheeks as she whispered secrets into the pages. Words that disappeared as she wrote them, a soft voice in her head telling her everything would be alright, that it would help her. That it was her friend.
Similar to a groomer, this is horrible. Poor girl.
Lynne didn't know what that word meant, but that it was a terrible experience for the first year was clear. The image shifted, now Ginny was standing in the dark corridors, her eyes unfocused, a rooster's limp body in her hands, blood dripping onto the stone floor. Her hands trembled, but her face was calm, blank, the diary's will moving her like a puppet.
Lynne realized that she was the one opening the chamber, it was in the second-floor girl's bathroom. Ginny's fear bled into the memory, her screams echoing in the corners of her mind as she tried to fight, the diary's presence smothering her protests until only the cold emptiness remained.
Lynne's vision cleared, sweat clinging to her temple, her wand still lit with the spell light. The voice inside her mind sighed, relieved.
She will be fine.
"Yes." Lynne said quietly, lifting her wand away from her, flexing her fingers to steady the slight tremor. "It can possess anyone who writes into it, it's dangerous. Master will know what to do with it."
Lynne looked at the sleeping Ginny, the soft rise and fall of her breathing a reminder of why she had done this. Her hand hovered over the girl's hair before pulling back, letting her rest.
"Maybe she doesn't want to remember."
The voice was quiet for a moment, warm in her mind.
I don't know, they are her memories.
Lynne made sure her satchel was secure, locking the runes with a small click. The pulse of dark magic dulled, contained by the layered spells her mentor had taught her to use for objects too dangerous to destroy immediately.
She closed her eyes, letting her breath steady, letting the hum of the trunk's wards. Time went by as she fed on its magic.
The trunk's rune-light cast a soft glow over Ginny as she stirred, eyes fluttering open, confusion pulling at her features before she remembered where she was. Her hands tightened in the blanket, her breath catching as fear returned, her eyes darting around the small space until they found Lynne.
"It's alright." Lynne said, her voice calm, unhurried. "You're safe now, it is still not morning so I let you sleep."
Ginny shook her head, tears spilling over her lashes. "No, I…I can't be. I can't remember things. I wake up in different places. I hear him, he tells me to do things. I can't stop it."
Lynne crouched down beside the cot, her eyes level with Ginny's, letting the silence settle until the girl's breathing evened out enough for her to listen.
"Tom?" Lynne asked.
Ginny nodded, her lip trembling. "Tom. Tom he… He's in the diary, he talks to me, he listens, but then he… he makes me forget. I think I did something bad, but I can't remember what."
Her voice cracked, and she pressed her hands to her ears, rocking slightly as sobs broke free, her shoulders shaking with the weight of the fear she had carried alone for too long.
Lynne reached out, placing a hand on Ginny's head gently, letting the girl feel the weight of the touch, solid and real. "It wasn't you. And it's over now."
Ginny's eyes squeezed shut, her tears dripping onto Lynne's metal hand. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Lynne's expression didn't change, but her hand moved to brush Ginny's hair back from her damp cheeks, tucking a strand behind her ear with careful precision. "It'll be alright."
She stood, moving to her desk to retrieve a small cup of warm tea she had prepared earlier. She pressed it into Ginny's shaking hands, steadying it until the girl took a sip, the warmth helping to calm her trembling.
Ginny stared down at the tea, her reflection rippling in the dark surface. "What will you do with him?"
"You shouldn't think about that." Lynne said. "You have to forget about the diary."
Ginny closed her eyes, a small breath of relief escaping her lips as her shoulders sagged. She looked so small then, the blanket too large around her, the fear in her eyes softening into exhaustion.
Lynne let her finish the tea before taking the cup, setting it aside. She sat on the edge of the cot, letting the silence hold as Ginny's eyes began to droop, sleep pulling at her now that the fear was gone.
"Will I ever remember? I don't think I want to know what I did." Ginny asked, her voice small.
Lynne watched her, the answer already clear. "I can make you forget forever if you want."
Ginny's lips trembled again, but she didn't argue. "Okay..." The voice in Lynne's mind was quiet again.
I can approve of this.
Lynne lifted her wand, her expression steady. "Relax, Ginny."
Lynne brushed a final strand of hair from Ginny's face, letting her fingers rest there for a moment. She stood, lifting her wand again.
"Obliviate."
The spell moved like a soft wind, pulling the fear and the memories of this night away from Ginny's mind, she proceeded to also cast the sleeping spell, leaving behind the gentle quiet of a dreamless sleep.
Lynne watched her for a moment longer, ensuring the girl's mind was calm, clear, her breathing steady. She moved to the trunk's door, opening it quietly before lifting Ginny into her arms.
The castle was dark, the halls empty as she moved through them with silent, precise steps. She reached Gryffindor Tower, whispering the password to the Fat Lady she knew from Neville, slipping through as the portrait swung open.
The common room was warm, the embers in the fireplace casting shadows on the chairs and rugs. Lynne laid Ginny down on the couch nearest the fire, adjusting the blanket around her before stepping back. Ginny murmured in her sleep, her brow smoothing, her breathing soft.
Lynne let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, turning away, letting the flames warm her back for a moment before she stepped through the portrait hole, the quiet of the tower swallowing her footsteps.
She paused once in the hallway, glancing back.
"Thank you, master. We did good." she said, her voice low, steady.
Then she turned, her steps precise as she walked back into the cold silence of the castle, the mission complete.