Whenever Lynn "needed" a scolding, they had her recite the lines to herself in front of them.
So now she could do it with effortless skill.
Hermione had said she mustn't punish herself over studying anymore.
But while punishment could be avoided, scolding could not.
By the time she finished bathing, only two minutes remained before twelve. She quickly rubbed her hair a couple of times with a towel.
She flopped onto the bed; the pillow was soaked in an instant, and Lynn plunged straight into deep sleep.
On the other bed, Maranhao and Marietta, still awake, cautiously slipped out from under their blankets.
After sharing a dorm with Lynn for a year, they knew she could fall asleep in seconds; they'd planned to dry her hair once she finished her shower.
But before they could even get out of bed, Lynn had already lain down and fallen fast asleep.
They couldn't let her sleep with wet hair—she'd have a splitting headache tomorrow—so the two seniors padded barefoot across the room and soundlessly approached her bed.
One lifted her while the other gently towel-dried her hair.
Fortunately, once Lynn was asleep she was in a deep slumber, so Maranhao and Marietta's ministrations didn't wake her.
After they laid her back down, swapped the damp pillow for a fresh one, and tucked her in, they crept back to their own beds.
An hour later, Lynn's eyes snapped open; her hair and pillow were both dry.
The soaked pillow lay beside her, and she instantly realized Senior Maranhao and Senior Marietta had dried her hair and changed it.
'Causing trouble for people again,' flitted through her mind.
She closed her eyes and returned to sleep—she needed a full six hours.
At six o'clock sharp, after exactly six hours, Lynn woke up.
She swung out of bed, washed briskly, slung her bag over her shoulder, and left the Dormitory for the Great Hall.
When she arrived, the Hall was the same as last term: far too early for any food to have appeared.
She sat at the Ravenclaw Table and read until breakfast materialized, then closed her book and ate unhurriedly.
Halfway through her meal Hermione walked in, waving with a smile. "Morning, Lynn."
"Morning, Hermione." Lynn swallowed a bite of fried egg, nodded expressionlessly, and returned to her breakfast.
Hermione chuckled, went to the Gryffindor Table, and began her own breakfast.
By the time Lynn finished, Seniors Maranhao and Marietta finally made a 'late' appearance.
Lynn paused at the doorway and regarded them steadily, her tone flat.
"Thank you, Senior Maranhao, Senior Marietta, for drying my hair and changing my pillow last night."
Maranhao and Marietta flushed at the solemn gratitude.
Maranhao pinched Lynn's cheek, cheeks pink. "No need for thanks—off to class."
"Exactly," Marietta added, feigning composure. "No need to be so polite. Hurry along."
"All right." Lynn nodded and sped toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
The moment she stepped inside, Gilderoy Lockharts assailed her from every wall; the man had hung his own photos in nearly every corner.
Dozens of Lockharts grinned at her, each radiating what he considered irresistible charm.
She stiffly surveyed the room, confirmed the real Professor Lockhart wasn't present, and sat down.
As though nothing were amiss, she opened her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and began to read.
Soon the Little Eagles filed in, settling around her and unconsciously forming her into their quiet center.
Still, the thoughtful eagles left one seat empty beside her—after all, they shared this lesson with the Gryffindors.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron arrived after breakfast.
Seeing Lynn ring-fenced by eagles with a single vacant chair, Hermione knew exactly whom that seat was for.
Miss Granger promptly abandoned her two best friends and slid into the space beside Lynn.
Harry and Ron exchanged wry smiles, shook their heads, and joined the pride of lions.
Class officially began; Lockhart swept out of his adjoining office.
He flung his arms wide and addressed the Young Wizards with theatrical zeal.
"Welcome, welcome to my class! Here you will witness the marvels of magic!"
Scattered applause followed—only a handful of Gryffindor girls clapped.
This time Hermione clamped her hands over Lynn's; brilliant as she was, Lynn must not applaud that charlatan!
Hermione held Lynn's wrists firmly, the thought blazing in her mind.
Faced with lukewarm applause, Lockhart swallowed his embarrassment, boasted a little more, then began distributing a quiz.
"Let's see how well you've studied the textbook."
An exam—an activity at which Lynn was effortlessly adept. She accepted the parchment.
After writing her name she set to work; every question came straight from the book, nothing inventive or beyond the syllabus.
She answered without the slightest difficulty.
Beside her, Hermione's eyebrows knitted so tightly they could have snapped a fly in two.
What in Merlin's name were these questions?
Lockhart's favorite color, his secret ambition, the Christmas gift he most desired—!
For heaven's sake, what did any of this have to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts?
Hermione wanted to hurl her quill aside and leave the parchment blank—or better yet, slap it over Lockhart's smug face.
But seeing Lynn scribbling furiously, Hermione sighed and abandoned the impulse.
She had to fill it in… if Lynn scored full marks while she turned in blank parchment, the mere thought was unbearable.
The same internal battle raged among the surrounding Ravenclaws; once they saw Lynn writing, they reluctantly began.
On the Gryffindor side, apart from a handful of Lockhart devotees, the Little Lions groaned the moment they read the questions.
They tossed down their quills, folded their arms, and refused even to glance at the man at the front.
They simply waited for him to collect the papers; after all, they were up against the eagles.
They couldn't outscore them at the best of times, and with this ridiculous quiz, writing anything felt like a waste.
When Lockhart called time ten minutes later, he was met with a good half of the class presenting pristine, untouched parchments.
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