"I got one thing that's been bugging me," Harley said, looping her arm through Cho's as they trudged back to the castle, head cocked like a curious puppy.
"Spill it."
"Okay, swimsuits and underwear? Basically twins. But you'll strut around Lynn in a bikini like it's no big deal, yet the second you're in panties, you're blushing like a tomato. What's the deal?"
Cho opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. "Because… they're totally different vibes, alright? Looks similar, feels worlds apart."
"That the hill you're dying on, Lynn?" Harley spun toward him.
Lynn didn't even blink. "If it was you, Harley? Clothed, naked, whatever—zero difference. You're officially in the 'no-spark' zone. Immune to my dude-brain."
"Pfft—"
Cho snorted so hard she nearly choked.
Harley nodded like a sage. "Gotcha. So back when I was stressing if I ever turned into some curvy bombshell Lynn might drool over, I can chill now."
Lynn side-eyed her. "World's crawling with hot girls. I'm not hard-up enough to eyeball you."
"Rabbits don't eat their own lawn?" Cho teased, smirking at Lynn. "Or just too tight with the bro-code?"
"Harley's my ride-or-die wingman. She's into soft, perfume-drenched girls—not stinky dudes like me."
He flicked Cho a grin. "You watch your six, though. One night you'll wake up with Harley sneaking into your sheets."
Cho tossed her hair with a smug little hum. "I'd be thrilled. Love cuddling Harley. Jealous?"
"Nah. Apples ain't my flavor."
"Get back here, you jerk!" Harley lunged, but Lynn was already booking it up the stairs.
---
After clawing their way up a gazillion steps, the trio split off to their common rooms. Afternoon classes were kicking off, and the baby wizards were buzzing like caffeinated squirrels over the upcoming Charms lesson.
Uniformed Harley wasn't rocking the sundress glow-up, but damn if she didn't still turn heads. Perks of being a chick: nobody's openly gawking at your forehead scar like it's the freaking Hope Diamond. Do that and you're instantly labeled a creep—say goodbye to your Hogwarts dating pool.
Still got the sneaky side-eyes, though. Pretty girls catch heat everywhere.
"Why we skipping the shortcut?" Harley whispered, huffing beside Lynn as they climbed more stairs to class.
"Secret tunnel stops being secret the second everyone knows, genius."
"Fair, but damn this castle's a maze…"
Prefects yelled at everyone to leave forty minutes early, yet half the first-years still got lost despite the chatty portraits playing GPS. Lynn's squad rolled in early—second only to Hermione Granger, who'd been camped out since lunch with her nose in a book.
"Hermione! Knew you ghosted the common room," Harley chirped, jogging over. Same dorm, instant roomies.
"Been here forever," Hermione said, snapping her book shut. "Didn't see you at lunch?"
"Nah, hit up Hagrid's with Lynn and Cho. Lynn whipped up hot pot—stupid good. I'm still stuffed."
"Hot pot?"
"Meat, veggies, dunked in spicy broth. Next time, you're coming. Lynn can do a mild tomato base if spice ain't your jam—Cho's a wimp too."
Hermione's buck-toothed grin lit up. "Thanks!" Dentist parents kept her on a short leash with sweets; the idea of unrestricted flavor was low-key thrilling.
---
Class time. Professor Flitwick zipped in pre-bell, stacking books like a pro gymnast to eye-level with the kids.
"Delighted everyone found the room—no stragglers!" His squeaky voice was pure glee. First-day tardies were his nemesis.
Neville only made it 'cause he tailed Lynn. Otherwise? Doomed.
Roll call was lightning-fast, then:
"First Charms lesson—who can tell me what magic is?"
Hermione's hand froze mid-air. Not in the textbook, crap.
Flitwick's twinkling eyes landed on Lynn. "Mr. Lynn?"
Lynn didn't flinch. "Magic—especially charms—is basically wishcraft. It's your brain flexing through spells. But it's got rules, too. Went from ancient runes to modern incantations—that's a total paradigm shift. Runes are clunky but potent. Charms? Streamlined, weaker, but way easier to spam. Runes still rule alchemy."
He shrugged. "So yeah—magic's a fairy tale with heart, but also a science you can grind."
Flitwick looked like Christmas came early. "I adore the fairy-tale angle. Emotions, belief, intent—they're real fuel. But magic ain't a genie. You want results? Put in the work."
"Three points to Gryffindor!" The lions whooped—free points on day one? Hell yeah.
Textbooks out. First spell: Lumos.
"Wands up, repeat after me—don't fear flopping. Magic loves bold tries."
"Lumos!"
Half the tips glowed like cheap flashlights. Baby's first spell—easy, useful, addictive.
---
Lynn hung back after the bell. Monday afternoons were light—just Charms.
"Something tripping you up, son?" Flitwick perched on his book throne.
"Yeah. Been eating at me since summer. I suck at charms. Like, trash. Took me a whole day to spark Lumos. But Transfiguration? Turned a match to a needle in two tries."
He yanked a wilted grass blade from his pocket, waved his wand—poof. Gleaming silver needle, razor-sharp.
Flitwick whistled, floating it for inspection. "Flawless. McGonagall's gonna squeal when I rub this in her face."
Lynn scratched his neck. "I've got solid magic control, but charms ghost me. Like the spells are dodging on purpose."
Flitwick tapped his chin. "Rare bird, you are. Transfiguration's harder than charms—advanced branch, even. But here's the rub…"
He leaned in. "Transfiguration = command. Visualize, focus, force the change. 'Do this.' Charms = negotiation. Will, need, emotion. 'I want this.' You're a bossy wizard—great at barking orders, crap at sweet-talking magic."
Lynn blinked. "So I'm a control-freak with spells that want therapy?"
Flitwick cackled. "Kids charm magic easy 'cause they're still half-dreaming. Grown-ups? Stiff. Your rough start forced you adult-fast—killed the fairy-tale vibe. Hang with peers. Play. Hug it out. Magic's a kid at heart."
Lynn swallowed. Patronus Charm, D.A…. yeah, tracks.
"Thanks, Prof. Owe you big."
"Psh. Gimme the needle—I'm flexing on Minerva." Flitwick winked, forever twelve inside.
"Tell her hi from me."
Doorway: Harley, grinning like a gremlin.
"Took you long enough!"
She launched, wrapping him in a squeaky hug. "So Flitwick's saying you need more cuddles, huh?"
Before Lynn could retort—
"What. Is. This."
Ice-cold venom dripped down the hall. No need to turn.
Snape.