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With the arrival of April, the Easter holidays finally arrived.
The sunlight grew warmer day by day, tender green buds began to sprout on the treetops in the Forbidden Forest, the ice on the Black Lake had long since melted away, and occasionally a few fish would leap from the shimmering surface of the lake, splashing water.
This should have been a wonderful holiday.
But for the students of Hogwarts, it was an unprecedented nightmare.
Because of homework.
There was an appalling amount of it.
The professors seemed to have conspired to bury the students in a sea of assignments, keeping them confined to the library and unable to find time for anything else.
In Monday morning's Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall stood before the lectern, a roll of parchment in her hand, her expression as serious as if she were about to announce some major news.
"Easter holiday homework," she began, her gaze sweeping over the faces below, already starting to tense, "a twenty-inch essay titled 'On the Ethical Boundaries and Spell Control of Human Transfiguration.'"
"In addition, you are required to read seven designated books, including 'Advanced Transfiguration Theory,' 'The History and Case Studies of Human Transfiguration,' 'Golpalott's Law of Transfiguration'... and write another seven-inch essay."
Every time she announced a title, the wails from below grew louder.
By the time she finished the seventh book, the classroom had completely erupted.
"Twenty-seven inches?!"
"Seven books?!"
"Are they trying to kill us?!"
Professor McGonagall's gaze swept sternly across the room, her voice rising two notches.
"Silence!"
The classroom fell silent instantly.
She continued, "You will soon be entering your fifth year and facing your O.W.L.s. This is meant to help you adapt in advance to the study intensity of the next school year!"
Having said that, she ignored the faces of despair below and turned to leave.
—
In the common room.
Edgar slumped on the sofa, eyes staring straight at the ceiling, the parchment in his hand trailing on the floor, not a single word written on it.
"Twenty-seven inches..." he muttered. "Seven books... I can't even squeeze out three inches..."
William sat in the armchair nearby, three books spread out before him, his quill scratching away, his expression focused.
Edgar turned his head to look at him, eyes full of despair. "William, how can you still keep writing?"
William didn't look up.
"Because I want to graduate."
Edgar was silent for a second.
"I want to graduate too... but I want to live more."
Ollie sat by the window, a book spread open before him as well. He read slowly, turning the pages one by one, occasionally pausing to think for a few seconds before jotting a few words down on his parchment with his quill.
Edgar looked at him, then at William, then at the blank parchment in front of himself.
He sighed.
"Should I consider repeating a year?"
However, while everyone else fretted over their homework, one special group made the other students grit their teeth in envy.
The Champions.
Although the professors hadn't waived their homework entirely, they had cut it by more than half.
Twenty-seven inches became ten, and seven books became three.
They still had to write, at least, but they could get away with fewer nights staying up late.
When Edgar heard the news, he sprang up off the sofa and rushed over to Cedric, his face full of grief and indignation.
"On what grounds?! Why do you get to write less?!"
Cedric scratched his head, somewhat sheepish.
"Uh... maybe because we still have to prepare for the third task?"
Edgar: "..."
He made so much sense that Edgar couldn't even argue.
But one person's treatment was entirely different from the other Champions'.
Lynn.
His homework had doubled.
That's right—doubled.
Twenty-seven inches became fifty-four, and seven books became fourteen.
When Lynn received his homework list from Professor McGonagall, he was stunned.
He checked it three times over, just to make sure he hadn't misread it.
Then he looked up at Professor McGonagall. "Professor, is there some mistake?"
Professor McGonagall looked at him, her expression perfectly calm.
"There is no mistake."
"But the other Champions had theirs reduced by half..."
"You are special."
Lynn: "..."
He seriously suspected Dumbledore had a problem with him—and a significant one at that. Otherwise, why would everyone else get a reduction while he got a doubling?
He decided to demand an explanation.
—
The Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, a cup of tea in hand, a gentle smile on his face.
Lynn stood before him, his expression serious. "Headmaster, I have a question."
"Please, speak."
"Why has my homework doubled?"
Dumbledore blinked. "Doubled? Has it?"
Lynn took a deep breath. "Professor McGonagall said so herself."
Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Oh, right, I suggested it."
Lynn: "..."
He nearly choked on his own breath.
"Why?"
Dumbledore took a sip of tea.
"Because your performance at the Ministry of Magic last time proved you still have plenty of potential left to tap. More homework can help you realize it."
Lynn stared at him.
Dumbledore looked back at Lynn.
Lynn was silent for a long time before asking, "Headmaster, do you have a problem with me?"
Dumbledore smiled, a smile carrying a hint of profound meaning.
"How could I?"
Lynn: "..."
He felt he already had his answer.
"Then my homework..."
"Write it."
Dumbledore set down his teacup, his tone gentle but firm.
Lynn took a deep breath.
Then he nodded.
"Fine."
He turned and left.
Walking out of the Headmaster's Office, he made a mental note.
Old Bumblebee!
Just you wait!
All your candy is gone! I said so! Just like Louis XVI and his head—no one can save it!
—
Of course, this amount of homework was never going to stump Lynn.
He returned to the common room and, instead of moping over books like the others, went straight to an empty table, sat down, and pulled out parchment and a quill.
Then he pulled out his Magic Phone.
Dialed.
Beep—beep—
"Hello?"
Fred's voice came from the other end.
"It's me," Lynn said. "Are you free?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I've got a job. You interested?"
There was a second of silence on the other end.
Then Fred's voice dropped, carrying a hint of excitement. "What kind of job?"
"Help me with my homework."
Fred: "...What?"
Lynn named the amount of homework, and the other end fell silent too.
Then George's voice cut in, clearly having leaned closer to the phone.
"Fifty-four inches? Fourteen books?"
"Yes."
"Are you serious?"
"When have I ever joked?"
The other side went silent again.
Then Fred spoke, his tone turning subtle. "This job... the pay needs to go up."
Lynn smiled; he might not have much of anything else, but he certainly didn't lack money.
"Fine. One bag of Galleons each, half upfront and the rest when it's done."
"Deal!"
So that evening, the Weasley twins slipped into the Hufflepuff common room.
They sat across from Lynn, several thick reference books spread out before them, quills in hand, looking very serious.
"Let's get to work!" George shouted.
Then—
Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch!
The quills flew frantically across the parchment.
Each of the twins took charge of half the essay, coordinating perfectly with incredible efficiency. They occasionally exchanged opinions as they wrote, discussing how best to expand on a certain point.
Lynn sat nearby, legs crossed, holding a cup of ice-cold Coke, watching them leisurely.
Every so often, he'd offer a pointer or two.
"This section isn't deep enough—revise it."
"This citation is wrong. It should be page one hundred twenty-seven of the third book."
"Add an example here to make it more persuasive."
The twins rolled their eyes as they wrote, but their hands didn't stop.
After all—
One bag of Galleons was enough to buy quite a lot of joke materials.
By midnight, only half of the fifty-four-inch essay was finished.
The twins slumped in their chairs, hands shaking.
Lynn looked it over and nodded with satisfaction.
"Not bad."
He pulled two bags of Galleons from his pocket and tossed them over.
"The rest gets paid once it's finished."
The twins took the money bags, weighed them in their hands, and satisfied smiles spread across their faces.
"Lynn," Fred sighed, full of feeling, "you really are a good person."
Lynn smiled.
"Likewise."
After the twins left, Lynn gathered up the stack of parchment and went back to his dormitory to lie down on his bed.
He gazed at the ceiling, the corners of his mouth curling upward slightly.
Dumbledore, oh Dumbledore.
You think doubling my homework can stump me?
You've underestimated me.
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