With that, he stepped into the fireplace; a burst of green flames roared up and his figure vanished in an instant.
Fudge exhaled in huge relief. This night… had certainly been anything but calm.
Oblivious to the undercurrents, Lynn and the others had stayed in the villa to preview their new books ever since their shopping trip.
Even Harry and Ron had been dragooned by Hermione into adding an extra hour of prep each day on top of their holiday homework.
The two boys suffered—and secretly relished—it: suffering because who wants to study during vacation, rejoicing because they could feel their knowledge actually growing.
The thought of starting term ahead of the game—and maybe earning a few more points for Gryffindor—kept their spirits soaring.
The three Ravenclaw seniors, needless to say, were every bit as driven as Hermione, already memorizing key passages verbatim.
Most extraordinary of all was Lynn. The moment the new texts were in her hands and the "study ban" lifted, she simply never put them down.
She read on the sofa, on the stairs, at meals; she read while cooking and even while using the loo.
Merlin knows how stunned Hermione was the first time she saw Lynn stir-frying with one hand and holding a book in the other.
Merlin and heaven combined! Spattering oil nearly reached her fingers!
Hermione darted forward, snatched the spatula, gently pulled Lynn aside, and shut off the stove in one fluid sequence.
Still clutching the spatula, Hermione seized Lynn's hand and turned it over, inspecting every inch until she was sure there wasn't a single burn—only then did she breathe again.
Lynn blinked in bewilderment, not understanding why Hermione had yanked her away or why she was now scrutinizing her hand.
Her hand… there was nothing special to look at.
She lowered her gaze, stared at her right hand—now pale as polished jade—and froze.
Only then did she realize how utterly different her hand looked; it was… actually rather beautiful.
Before, her skin had been equally white, but a sickly, bloodless white, nothing like the luminous fairness she now saw.
Not to mention the burns, chilblains, and scars that had once dotted it.
Though she felt no emotions, she still possessed ordinary aesthetic sense.
So she had known her old hands were unlovely—she simply hadn't been able to care.
Once Hermione calmed, she noticed Lynn staring down at the hand she held.
Half amused and half exasperated, she tapped Lynn's forehead. "Reading while cooking? You really aren't afraid of getting scalded?"
As she spoke, her relief flipped back into irritation.
Lynn paid no heed to her own safety, and Hermione's anger was aimed chiefly at the parents whose neglect had made her this way.
"I'm used to it. Very practiced. I won't get burned," Lynn answered, expressionless.
The familiar tone, the unfamiliar subject—Hermione almost laughed from sheer frustration.
Lynn's parents deserved a Killing Curse.
She scooped the book off the counter and snapped it shut.
"Confiscated. No reading while cooking."
"Oh." Lynn nodded indifferently and resumed stir-frying.
Hermione left to return the book upstairs; only then did Lynn relax her right leg slightly.
High on the inside of her thigh was a ten-centimetre gash.
By ignoring the fact that magical transport could reach the villa, she had put Hermione and the others at risk.
Lynn had decided the oversight merited punishment—severe punishment—and had carried it out herself.
For the next several days no one noticed anything wrong with her leg.
Subconsciously, she kept her gait normal in front of the others, even when the pain sharpened.
And she slept in long trousers, so Hermione never had a chance to spot the wound.
What did nearly break the others was the speed of Lynn's studying.
At Hogwarts, even though Maranhao and Marietta shared a dorm with her, they were often apart.
Now, under one roof, her pace was on full display.
Three days after the books arrived she had every text memorised word for word.
When Penelope tested her, she found Lynn hadn't merely recited but fully understood the material.
For a moment the six Young Wizards felt crushed—then they reminded themselves this was Lynn.
How many Lynns appeared in all of Britain's wizarding history?
With that thought, their defeat turned to acceptance.
When departure day came, the seven of them headed to King's Cross together without bothering any parents.
But as they reached the station they were greeted by—bang! bang! "Ow!" ×2.
Harry and Ron ended in a heap; the five girls, Lynn included, hurried to haul them up and gather their scattered luggage.
"Merlin's gate… what happened?" Ron rubbed his bruised elbow and stared at the pillar that concealed Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Passers-by couldn't help gawking at seven children who had just slammed into a wall.
Fortunately Penelope and Hermione sprang up, smiled, and shooed the onlookers away, easing the situation.
"What's going on? I've never heard of this," Maranhao pressed her palm against the solid brick where the entrance should be.
"The passage is sealed?" Marietta frowned.
"What do we do? The train leaves soon," Harry said anxiously, checking the clock.
"Stay calm." Hermione and Penelope returned; Hermione waved for Harry to settle down.
"Optimal course: write to Headmaster Dumbledore. He'll handle it. Analysis shows the plan is safe, legal, and has the highest probability of success." Lynn concluded after rapid mental calculation.
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