Hermione lowered her head, pressing her forehead to Lynn's. "You heard everything Professor McGonagall just told you, didn't you?"
Lynn, her forehead still against Hermione's, felt her mind remain as still as a frozen lake. She gave a quiet nod.
"I heard."
She always listened carefully to her teachers and did her best to follow their instructions.
"From now on, you're not allowed to hurt yourself again, no matter the reason."
Hermione hugged her tighter, eyes closed, whispering.
"Mm." Lynn answered just as softly.
Hermione opened her eyes again and, seeing Lynn's expressionless face, couldn't help smiling.
Lynn studied her, unable to work out why she was smiling.
"Why are you smiling, Hermione?"
"Because I'm happy," Hermione said, cupping Lynn's cheek and slowly stroking the smooth skin. "Happy you came into this world."
"Came to us, so we could meet you—and save you."
"Thank you." Lynn instinctively voiced her gratitude; Hermione immediately covered her mouth.
"We don't want your thanks. We want you safe."
Mouth covered, Lynn nodded slowly.
Hermione released her hand and pulled her down onto the bed.
Rolling over, she hugged Lynn even closer, eyes sparkling as something occurred to her.
"Right now, besides Hogwarts, you don't have a permanent place to stay, do you?"
After all, Lynn's real home was in another world.
Lynn nodded in agreement. "That's right."
"Then spend every holiday at my house from now on."
Hermione looked at her hopefully. "What do you think? Mum and Dad already adore you, and you'd keep me company. Please?"
She nuzzled Lynn's neck, trying every trick to win her consent.
"All right."
Lynn agreed without hesitation. "I hope I won't be any trouble," she added politely.
"You could never be trouble," Hermione murmured, taking a deep breath as she held her, eyes closing in contentment. "You don't even realise how happy it makes people just having you near."
Having me nearby makes people… happy? Lynn's thoughts stuttered—could that really happen?
Whenever she'd stood in front of her parents, they'd always frowned.
She was the stupid child, not the prodigy they'd wanted.
Even after surgery sent her grades soaring, she was only an "artificial" genius.
They feared any examination might expose her flaws, so they preferred her out of sight.
As for her teachers—though her marks earned them extra resources—
her lack of emotion meant she was courteous and obedient, yet
she couldn't flatter, fawn, or even string together pretty words.
To them she was merely an exam-scoring machine that secured benefits; why would they want her around?
On the contrary, they enjoyed punishing her—she was obedient enough to carry out any penalty.
No matter how wretched it left her, she'd reflect afterwards,
and study even harder next time—so why wouldn't teachers relish it?
It amused them, satisfied their egos, and still pushed her to produce the rising material rewards they desired.
Killing two birds with one stone.
Classmates were no different: rivals fighting for survival, who could possibly like whom?
Dragging one another down was closer to the truth.
Yet Hermione, Professor McGonagall and the others truly wanted to see her… Lynn's mind produced the conclusion only with great difficulty, as though it defied logic.
She glanced at Hermione, eyes closed in rest, and—though her heart remained calm—an abrupt thought surfaced:
How wonderful to have met Hermione, the Hogwarts students, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick—real mentors.
Outside the Dormitory, in the Ravenclaw Common Room, Penelope had finished recounting Lynn's story to the Little Eagles.
"I require everyone to keep Lynn's background secret," she said, eyes sweeping the circle. "If word spreads, someone might develop an unhealthy interest in her."
"None of us wants our Ravenclaw darling hurt, right?"
Every Little Eagle shook their head in unison. Senior Platt yanked a sheet of parchment from a nearby table and tapped it with her wand.
Complex alchemical syllables spilled from her lips; intricate transmutation runes blossomed across the once-blank parchment,
until it had become a binding contract.
She lifted it and passed it to a seventh-year boy, who held his wand to the sheet and began chanting Ancient Runes.
As his voice rose, flames flickered over the parchment—yet gave off no heat.
When he finished, he nodded to Platt; she laid the burning contract on the table.
"Anyone who signs this and tries to reveal Lynn's identity to non-Ravenclaws will be detected at once and lose the power of speech,"
"while suffering the agony of fire coursing through the body for three full days."
The boy beside Platt added with a cheerful smile.
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