The morning after every Ravenclaw agreed to form a self-study group, the Little Eagles began spreading the news to the other three Houses at breakfast.
In Gryffindor House, Hermione's eyes lit up without a second thought and she signed up on the spot.
Studying under Lockhart clearly wouldn't teach her anything; she'd already planned to ask Lynn to tutor her in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Now that a ready-made opportunity had appeared, of course she had to grab it.
Just as quick to agree were Harry, Ron, and the Weasley Twins.
Once the other Little Lions saw the three of them join, another dozen or so followed suit.
Worth mentioning: Percy frowned when Penelope brought it up.
He said she shouldn't trust a second-year Young Wizard's ability; just because she could cast the spells didn't mean she could teach others.
He insisted she should trust the Professors—perhaps Professor Lockhart had only wanted to give everyone a chance to shine in the first lesson.
Penelope's lips twitched; she waved a hand and walked off.
Since he didn't believe in Lynn's skill and refused to believe Lockhart was a complete fraud, there was nothing more to discuss.
That shut Percy up mid-sermon; he turned back to his breakfast, flustered.
Over in Hufflepuff, the second-year Little Baders didn't hesitate at all—the entire year joined en masse.
After sharing classes with Lynn for a whole year, they knew exactly what she could do.
Getting her guidance was a dream come true.
The normally tight-knit Little Badgers, seeing the second-years sign up, declared they wanted in as well.
The upper-years joined partly to look after the youngsters; while they'd heard of Lynn's talent,
a second-year was still a second-year, and it was hard to believe she could already teach them.
As for Slytherin House, Ravenclaw sent three seventh-years to deliver the invitation.
After all, their prank on Malfoy began at breakfast, and if anyone traced it back to Ravenclaw,
these three could escape unscathed.
'What do you want?' The Little Snakes still showed some courtesy to non-Gryffindors.
Two seventh-year Snakes stood up and addressed the three Ravenclaws.
'We've started a self-study group focused on Defense Against the Dark Arts; you're free to join or not,' one of the Ravenclaw girls explained, her smile not reaching her eyes.
'A self-study group?' The seventh-year who'd spoken frowned, glancing toward the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.
'Those Gryffindor brutes and Hufflepuff duffers want in too?'
Another Snake, even more arrogant, cut in before the first could answer.
The Ravenclaw girl's brows knit; the insult grated.
'Yes. Anyone from any House may join,' she repeated, holding her temper.
'No thanks. What could we learn by tagging along with brutes, duffers, and a bunch of swots?'
Marcus Flint spoke up from the bench, and the Slytherin table burst into laughter.
The three Little Eagles' faces went cold. 'Understood. Goodbye.'
They turned and walked straight back to the Ravenclaw Table.
'What did they say?' Penelope asked, eyeing the laughing Slytherins and her grim-faced seniors.
'The usual: Gryffindors are brutes, Hufflepuffs are duffers, we're swots,' one of the boys sighed.
Penelope gave a soft, mocking laugh and took a bite of pie. 'Typical. Every House misunderstands the others.'
The surrounding Eagles nodded in agreement; that much was true.
Lynn ate in silence, mentally reviewing every Potions lesson of the year.
No one noticed that, a moment earlier, every knife and fork on the Slytherin table—and even those in their hands—had slid a millimetre sideways, only returning to normal once the three Eagles were safely back at the Ravenclaw Table.
As breakfast neared its end and most students, Lynn included, rose to leave, an uproar erupted at the Slytherin table.
Draco Malfoy's hair suddenly began to grow, spilling over the bench and onto the floor, still lengthening.
Draco slammed down his cutlery and shot a furious glare at the Gryffindor Table.
Halfway to the door, Lynn's gaze snapped to a seventh-year Ravenclaw girl.
Her mind raced: Draco's hair looked exactly like the effect of a Hair-Growth Potion.
But a normal one stops after reaching a set length—Malfoy's showed no sign of stopping.
Already his hair was piling up, threatening to bury him.
A modified Hair-Growth Potion, she concluded.
When the girl had passed her earlier, Lynn had caught the faint, tell-tale scent of the Potion—masked by washing and possibly a Scouring Charm, but still detectable to a trained nose; Potions always leave traces.
Fixing her eyes on Draco's pumpkin juice goblet and plate, now buried under hair, she deduced the girl had laced his breakfast with the altered Potion.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Professor Snape striding cold-faced toward the Slytherin table while her mind flicked through probability equations.
Though the girl had timed the Potion to activate only after Draco finished,
the Potions Master might still detect the residue on cup or plate.
The chance he'd then scent it on the girl was slim but not zero,
and knowing Snape, he'd likely dock points and assign detention on the merest suspicion.
Therefore, Lynn decided, the safest move was to erase every clue, leaving him unable to tell whether the effect came from Potion or spell.
Calmly withdrawing her gaze, Lynn walked expressionlessly toward the Great Hall doors.
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