Today was a special day.
The holiday prison-style crash course, personally established by Professor Lynn of the Azkaban Institute of Higher Education, had officially concluded.
The curriculum included, but was not limited to: completing the entire sequence from drawing one's wand to casting a spell within three seconds; remaining calm and finding an opening while surrounded by multiple enemies; and—most importantly—surviving an entire holiday of being chased and beaten through Lynn's trunk before walking out alive.
Of course, the final course was merely an elective.
Edgar and his two companions passed it with full marks.
The students enrolled in the crash course—Edgar, William, and Mr. Ollie—were all quite satisfied with the results of their advanced training.
In Edgar's words, "I feel like I could take on ten Death Eaters right now."
Lynn immediately poured cold water over his enthusiasm.
"You can't even defeat one of my clones, yet you want to take on ten Death Eaters?"
Edgar did not care.
He was currently overflowing with supreme confidence. Any attempt to reason with him would simply go in one ear and out the other.
William's assessment was considerably more restrained.
"It was extremely rewarding," he said, "but I never want there to be a next time."
His voice was calm, but Lynn noticed his fingers subconsciously brushing against his ribs as he spoke. Lynn had struck him there during training, and the bruise had taken an entire week to fade.
Ollie's evaluation was the shortest, consisting of only a single word.
"Worthwhile."
After a moment, he added another.
"Practice."
Translated into ordinary speech, his meaning was: Although the training had been exhausting, it was worth the effort, and he intended to continue practicing in the future.
Professor Lynn, however, was rather dismissive of the trio's achievements.
In his opinion, no matter how dim-witted a wizard might be, how could they possibly fail to learn Protego Diabolica?
The trio: "..."
Do you even hear what you're saying?!
Lynn had taught all three of them the spell during their training, and they had practiced it for an entire week. Not one of them had succeeded.
Whenever William cast it, he burned off half his eyebrows.
Ollie never burned himself, but the wall of fire he produced was only the size of his palm. Forget stopping a person—it would have struggled to block a mouse.
Edgar had suffered the worst of all.
Every time he attempted the spell, it triggered a small explosion. He had been blasted backward several times, and during his final attempt, he had nearly blown a hole through Lynn's trunk.
At around ten in the morning, Dodo piloted the Lynn family's flying car down from the sky and landed steadily in front of King's Cross Station.
After Tonks crashed into the car the last time, Lynn had learned his lesson and subjected it to a comprehensive upgrade.
Its appearance was naturally as impressive as possible.
The body had been painted space gray—a shade that shimmered with a faint blue luster beneath the sunlight, making the vehicle look as though it had driven straight out of a science-fiction film.
Lynn had also devoted considerable effort to its crash protection.
The car's outer shell had been replaced with a composite of goblin metal and mithril. It did not have merely one protective layer, but three.
The spaces between each layer had been filled with special cushioning materials that hardened instantly upon impact, dispersing the force of a collision throughout the car's entire frame.
Even the windows had been specially manufactured. Lynn had mixed dragon-scale powder into the glass, making it harder than diamond.
Lynn could confidently guarantee that even if this car collided head-on with the massive truck that had brought him to this world, the truck would be the first one sent flying.
It was simply a pity that Tonks was not driving a Ministry of Magic vehicle to take Harry to school this year.
Lynn desperately wanted her to see what a real bumper car looked like.
The doors opened.
Edgar was the first to jump out. He stretched lazily and drew a deep breath of London air.
"The air here really is better," he said. "The air at Lynn's place is too clean. I can't get used to it."
William climbed out after him, adjusted his glasses, and looked up at the sky.
"It's about to rain."
Lynn stepped out of the passenger seat and patted the side of the car.
The vehicle emitted a low hum. Its four wheels rose several inches from the ground, leaving it hovering in midair.
Then, with a whoosh, it disappeared.
The moment they entered King's Cross Station, they sensed that something was wrong.
Lynn had attended Hogwarts for five years and passed through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters dozens of times, but he had never witnessed anything like this.
The students, who should have been shouting, chasing one another, and being scolded by their parents to slow down, were all standing quietly beside their families.
Their heads were lowered as they clutched schoolbags or held tightly to their parents' hands. Every so often, they would glance up and quickly scan their surroundings before lowering their heads once more.
The parents were not chatting among themselves either.
Normally, they would gather in small groups at this time of year to discuss their children, their jobs, or the latest gossip published in the Daily Prophet.
Today, however, no one was making casual conversation.
They were all doing the same thing—repeatedly warning their children.
"Don't wander around once you reach school."
"Don't go anywhere alone."
"Stay in your common room after dark. Don't go outside."
"If anything happens, find a professor immediately. Don't try to be a hero."
"I'll come and pick you up when the holidays begin. Don't return by yourself."
Each instruction was short, yet every one of them was repeated several times.
The distance between the station entrance and the barrier leading to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was only a few hundred meters, but Lynn heard at least a dozen parents giving their children the same warnings.
A considerable number of Aurors from the Ministry of Magic had also arrived.
There were at least a dozen in plain sight. They wore dark blue uniforms with golden Auror badges pinned to their chests and stood at every entrance and along the corridors, their sharp gazes constantly sweeping across the passing crowds.
When Lynn observed more carefully, however, he discovered even more Aurors who were not wearing uniforms.
They were dressed in ordinary Muggle clothing and disguised as travelers or passersby, allowing them to blend seamlessly into the crowd.
They had concealed themselves well, but Lynn still noticed the subtle clues in their behavior. As they walked, their hands would occasionally drift toward their pockets or sleeves.
Such habits had been ingrained through years of training and could not easily be suppressed.
They were not reaching for their Magic Phones.
They were subconsciously confirming that their wands were still there.
Lynn counted them.
There were more than twenty undercover Aurors. Combined with the dozen or so stationed openly throughout the area, nearly forty Aurors were guarding King's Cross Station.
"What are you looking at?"
Edgar's voice came from beside him. He stood on tiptoe and craned his neck, trying to see what had caught Lynn's attention.
Lynn shook his head.
"Nothing important. I just noticed that there are quite a few Aurors here today."
Edgar nodded and withdrew his gaze.
"This is probably Fudge's doing," he said quietly. "He's most likely trying to win over the parents and secure their votes."
Lynn's eyebrows rose.
"Votes?" he asked in surprise. "He still hasn't stepped down?"
After the attack on the Department of Mysteries, Lynn had assumed Fudge would be removed from office immediately.
Between the rumored complaint letters, Howlers, and motions of no confidence, he had believed Fudge would not survive the summer.
It seemed he had still underestimated Fudge's political maneuvering.
Edgar shrugged, his voice tinged with helplessness.
"The Death Eaters have been growing increasingly active lately. The Ministry believes replacing the Minister at a time like this could easily cause widespread panic, so they've been dragging their feet over the matter.
"Fudge is clever, too. He knows he won't be able to hold on much longer, so he's been using this time to secure as many votes as possible. Once the next election arrives—"
"He still wants to be reelected?" Lynn interrupted.
"In his dreams," Edgar replied. "But he can at least step down gracefully instead of being kicked out."
Lynn fell silent for a moment.
He wanted to ask, Isn't that essentially the same thing?
After giving it some thought, however, he kept his mouth shut.
He did not understand politics, nor did he have any desire to.
"If you calculate the timing," Edgar continued, "he'll be gone by the end of this year at the latest. The septennial election is approaching, after all."
Lynn nodded, unconcerned by such trivial details.
As long as Fudge did not come looking for trouble, Lynn would not mind sparing his life.
They passed through the barrier, and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters appeared before them.
Students dragged their trunks and carried owl cages as they boarded the train in small groups.
Some were laughing and chatting, while others wore solemn expressions. The atmosphere felt strangely divided.
Edgar glanced at the time.
"It's still early," he said. "Let's board the train and find a compartment."
The train released billowing clouds of smoke as it gradually accelerated away from the platform.
After Lynn, Edgar, and the others found an empty compartment, Edgar, William, and Ollie immediately began catching up on their sleep.
They had trained until very late the previous night and desperately needed the rest.
Lynn, however, was brimming with energy and had no intention of sleeping.
He rose from his seat and straightened his robes.
"I'm going out for a while," he said quietly.
No one responded.
All three were already sound asleep, their breathing deep and steady.
Lynn slid open the compartment door and stepped into the corridor.
It was quiet outside, disturbed only by the rhythmic clattering of the train's wheels against the tracks and the occasional murmur of conversation.
Lynn passed through one carriage after another. Occasionally, someone would walk past, recognize him, and nod in greeting.
He returned each greeting without allowing his gaze to linger.
The prefects' compartment was located near the front of the train, close to the engine. A small brass plaque hung on the door, engraved with the words:
"Prefects' Compartment."
Lynn pushed open the door and stepped inside.
There were more people in the compartment than he had expected.
Several students were already seated around the long table.
Gryffindor's Hermione and Ron sat beside the window with books spread out in front of them, although Hermione was the only one actually reading. Ron's gaze continually drifted toward the window, and no one could tell what he was looking at.
Slytherin's Draco sat on the opposite side of the table, leaning back in his chair with one hand resting on the tabletop. His fingers tapped against the surface in a steady rhythm.
Hannah from Hufflepuff and Padma from Ravenclaw were also present.
Lynn swept his gaze around the compartment.
They were all familiar faces.
He found an empty seat at the end of the long table and sat down. Before the seat had even grown warm beneath him, he felt someone staring intently at him.
That gaze was exceptionally intense.
Lynn raised his head and followed it to its source.
Draco was staring at him with bloodshot eyes, looking as though he might burst into tears at any moment. His eyes were red, his nose was red, and his lips trembled faintly.
Lynn immediately felt a wave of revulsion.
I'm not Harry Potter. If you want to stare at someone, go stare at Harry Potter! Aren't the two of you archenemies? Wouldn't it be perfectly normal for you to glare at each other? Why are you staring at me with tears in your eyes? Do I owe you money? Or does your father owe me money?
No, wait. Your father owes me a favor. You don't owe me any money.
Lynn calmly withdrew his gaze and pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket.
He flicked his wand, instantly transforming the parchment into an eye mask.
After putting it on, he leaned back in his chair.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Draco was dumbfounded.
Can't he understand such an obvious plea for help? That can't be right.
"Ahem."
Lynn remained motionless.
"Aheeem."
Lynn still did not budge. His breathing remained steady, as though he had genuinely fallen asleep.
Draco gritted his teeth.
"Cough! Cough, cough, cough, cough!"
The sound exploded throughout the compartment, and Lynn finally reacted.
His head turned slightly in Draco's direction. Then he slowly raised one hand, pinched the edge of the eye mask, and pulled it down little by little.
Lynn stared at Draco.
Draco stared back at him.
One second passed.
Then two.
Then three.
"Cough one more time," Lynn said softly, every word crystal clear, "and you can get the hell out."
Draco: "..."
---
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