Walking out of the Hogwarts Library with the trio, Lynn regarded Neville, Malfoy, and the others with a calm face.
As usual, Draco was flanked by his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.
At the moment they were standing in a circle, pointing at Neville and laughing; his legs were bound by a spell, forcing him to hop in place.
Hermione's brows snapped together. Without hesitation she whipped out her wand and aimed at Neville. "Finite!"
The spell jerked Neville's legs free; he lost his balance and pitched forward. Harry and Ron caught him and rounded on the three Slytherins.
'Malfoy! Up to your tricks again!' Ron snarled at Draco Malfoy, wishing looks could kill.
Draco gave a contemptuous laugh and lifted his chin. 'I learnt a new charm; I had to test it on someone, didn't I?'
'You—!' Harry yanked out his wand and levelled it at Malfoy.
'Harry, no!' Hermione seized his wrist and shook her head.
They couldn't hex Malfoy in the corridor—it would land them, and Gryffindor, in trouble.
Harry gritted his teeth and reluctantly stowed his wand.
'Tch.' Draco sneered, turned on his heel, and marched off with his two 'little followers'.
Ron squeezed his eyes shut, then looked at Neville. 'You've got to stand up to him. Even without magic—you should punch him!'
'I… I can't,' Neville quailed, shaking his head. 'I'm too scared.'
'Maybe Malfoy's right. I—I shouldn't be in Gryffindor at all. I'm not brave.'
'Neville!' Ron stared at him and gripped his shoulders. 'Listen: to us you're worth a dozen Malfoys, got it?'
Neville pressed his lips and gave the tiniest nod.
Lynn gazed at him with lifeless eyes. 'Endless tolerance only lets bullies grow bolder,' she said flatly.
'According to school rules, I advise you to seek a Professor's help.'
'Or better yet—plant one on him!' Ron added, punching the air.
'I… I'll try,' Neville murmured, hunching his shoulders.
Lynn gave Ron a cool glance; his suggestion obviously breached the rules.
She looked away, bade the four a polite goodbye, and returned to the Library.
Hermione and the others escorted Neville back to the Gryffindor Common Room, lest Malfoy way-lay him again.
After Hermione exacted a promise that she would sleep six hours nightly, Maranhao and Marietta saw 'early-to-bed' Lynn every evening.
They soon grew fond of her new routine—healthier than her old one, surely.
Yet no one knew that, during those six hours, her precise body-clock woke her every sixty minutes, cycling endlessly.
A few days later Gryffindor House Team's second match arrived.
This time Gryffindor faced Hufflepuff.
To general surprise, the referee was Professor Snape.
'Professor Snape…' Ron's fork clattered as Harry told them.
'Yeah,' Harry nodded grimly. 'He's refereeing.'
'Merlin's Bludger…' Ron retrieved his fork and stuffed in a sausage. 'He's protecting you, d'you think?'
'If Quirrell really tried to kill Harry last match, I mean.'
'Probably,' Hermione said. 'Though he might still make things awkward for Gryffindor.'
Everyone knew Snape loathed Gryffindor.
Harry drew a resolute breath. 'I'll catch the Golden Snitch as fast as I can!'
'Go for it, mate—I've got faith in you.' Ron slapped Harry's back so hard mashed potato nearly shot out of Harry's mouth.
Harry shot him a look: when there's no danger, your best mate is the greatest danger.
Hermione laughed softly. Boys—always so full of energy.
Not that she lacked vigour herself.
Seeing Lynn finish breakfast, Hermione hurried after her.
'Morning, Lynn!' she chirped, stepping into her path.
Lynn nodded impassively. 'Morning, Hermione.'
Hermione hesitated, recalling how Lynn had punished herself after the last match. Should she invite her again?
Lynn studied her. 'What is it, Hermione?'
Hermione took a breath. 'I… wondered if you'd come to the next Quidditch match with me?'
Lynn agreed at once. 'No problem.'
Hermione held her gaze. 'Promise you won't punish yourself. You said you wouldn't any more.'
A slow nod. 'I won't punish myself.'
'Good. Tomorrow morning at the Quidditch Pitch, then?'
'Agreed.'
Smiling, Hermione returned to Harry and Ron; Lynn strode out of the Great Hall toward History of Magic.
Inside the classroom the ghost of Professor Binns was already floating above the desk.
He needed no food, no rest, and always arrived first.
The only teacher who beat even Lynn to class.
She sat down, pulled a book from her bag, and began to read.
She had already memorized the entire History of Magic textbook, so she didn't need to spend the time before class reviewing—she could use it to read something new.
Lynn had only finished a dozen pages when the other Ravenclaw Eagles and Hufflepuff Little Badgers began filing into the History of Magic classroom.
Once everyone was present, the bell rang right on time. Without even glancing at how many students were seated, Professor Binns launched straight into his lecture.
The ghost's voice—utterly devoid of tone or inflection, and powerfully soporific—drifted over the students' ears.
Within minutes the Hufflepuff Little Badgers were stifling yawns; barely five minutes into the lesson, half the class had slumped asleep.
Professor Binns remained utterly unconcerned, as if he couldn't see them, and continued droning through the material.
Soon even the diligent Ravenclaw Eagles were struggling. If the course had merely been difficult, they wouldn't have minded—in fact, they would have looked forward to the challenge.
But the class wasn't difficult; it was hypnotic. Professor Binns's voice bored into their skulls like a tiny drill.
And as it drilled, it whispered: You're so sleepy… just drift off… you're so sleepy… just drift off…
In the blink of an eye the Eagles were yawning uncontrollably. They instinctively glanced at Lynn; she looked exactly as usual, showing not the faintest hint of drowsiness as she listened to Professor Binns.
Secretly impressed, the Ravenclaw Eagles noted that Lynn was still taking careful notes. Reassured, they promptly surrendered to sleep and pillowed their heads on their desks.
After all, Lynn was writing everything down; they could copy her notes later. Right now, of course, the priority was a good nap.
Lynn had no opinion about her classmates sleeping through the lesson. She merely glanced at them for a few seconds, then turned back to Professor Binns and continued scribbling without pause.
Her mind raced: Sleeping in class means not studying seriously; not studying seriously is wrong; it lowers grades; lowered grades lead to disposal… Expressionless, she looked up at the Professor and kept writing.
Perhaps the two most similar beings in the entire classroom were Lynn and Professor Binns—two precise machines running without rest.
They never erred, never tired, harbored no extraneous thoughts or feelings.
When History of Magic ended, Lynn, as usual, lent her notes to the Ravenclaws; once they finished copying, the notebook would circulate among the Hufflepuffs before finally returning to her.
All of this would be completed within two days, everyone doing their utmost not to cut into the time Lynn needed to review.
The next morning at breakfast, Hannah Abbott returned the History of Magic notebook to her.
Lynn nodded impassively. "Thank you for the trouble," she said in a flat tone.
"No, no," Hannah waved her hands hastily, "we're the ones who should thank you for letting us copy your notes."
Lynn offered no reply; she simply turned and tucked the notebook into her bag.
Hannah studied Lynn, whose entire being radiated placidity and an ever-present lack of expression.
The fear she had once felt had gradually faded during their long acquaintance.
Hannah could see that Lynn was a good person; though occasionally "odd," that quirkiness couldn't eclipse her quiet charm.
Notebook stowed, Lynn sat and devoured her breakfast at lightning speed. When she finished, she waited quietly on the Ravenclaw bench for Hermione.
Fortunately, Hermione didn't keep her waiting long; after wolfing down her own breakfast, she hurried from the Gryffindor Table to the Ravenclaw one.
"Lynn! Let's go!" Hermione beamed. Quidditch itself held no special allure for her; her excitement came solely from watching the match with Lynn.
Together they left the Great Hall. Harry and Ron followed, munching on toast. The Ravenclaw Eagles could only watch their pride and joy being carried off by a lion.
"The second time…" Maranhao muttered, watching the pair disappear.
"Yeah, second time," Marietta agreed, eyes glinting with interest.
"Funny—Lynn actually listens to Hermione. When I first told her about her schedule, she ignored me completely," Maranhao grumbled in mock offense.
Marietta shook her head, amused by her suddenly dramatic friend.
"Naturally you can't compete with Miss Granger."
"Meaning?" Maranhao whipped around, eyes narrowing dangerously.
Was Marietta implying she was somehow inferior to Granger?
Reading the threat in Maranhao's gaze, Marietta raised both hands in surrender. "You've got it wrong!"
"I'm not saying you fall short of Granger in any way."
"Then what are you saying?" Maranhao frowned, puzzled.
Marietta widened her eyes in disbelief.
"Haven't you noticed?"
"Noticed what?" Maranhao felt completely lost.
Marietta glanced left and right, then leaned in. "The way Lynn treats Granger—and the way Granger treats Lynn—is totally different from how they treat anyone else."
"And obviously, Lynn will take Granger's advice, but not ours."
"Mm-hmm," Maranhao nodded. "So?"
"So—" Marietta gave her a look of exasperation, held up two index fingers, and slowly brought them together until the tips touched. "Get it now?"
Maranhao stared for a second, then realization dawned.
"But… but they're both girls!"
Marietta shrugged. "So what? Real affection doesn't care about gender."
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