Cho's cheeks weren't bright red anymore, but they still had that cute, rosy glow, and she was wearing the sweetest little smile.
She was in a pretty good mood, probably because her stomach had finally stopped hurting.
After walking Cho almost all the way to her classroom, Lynn let go of her hand, passed her textbooks back to her, and watched her disappear inside.
Then he turned and strolled toward the third-floor Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
He timed it perfectly; the bell rang the second he reached the door.
But the thick garlic stench pouring out of the room made Lynn scrunch up his nose.
Look, he actually liked garlic; garlic scallops with glass noodles, garlicky eggplant, stuff like that was great. But the cloud of garlic coming off Quirrell? Totally different story. It was so strong and pungent it made it hard to breathe, like a physical punch of disgust straight to the gut.
Just flip the desk and be done with it, a tiny voice in Lynn's head yelled while swinging nunchucks.
Harry's not the same Harry anymore; he's a she now! All of Dumbledore's plans were set up for boy-Harry, not our current girl-Harry. Present-day Harriet is a good kid who doesn't sneak out at midnight. Fluffy the three-headed dog? The trapdoor? The Philosopher's Stone? She's never gonna fall for any of that!
It's time to shake up Hogwarts, and it all starts with Quirrell!
You only get seven years to study magic here. Defense Against the Dark Arts is basically useless to you anyway; might as well skip the torture, read a couple extra books, and start learning wandcraft early. Financial freedom is waiting; that's a monopoly business right there!
The nunchuck-swinging little devil on his shoulder made some really solid points, but Lynn still felt like that would be… risky.
"W-w-what's wrong…?" Quirrell stammered. Something felt off to him all of a sudden, so he turned and spotted Lynn still standing in the doorway.
"Hello, Professor Quirrell," Lynn said calmly, face completely neutral, and walked over to sit next to Harry. She and her best friends had very kindly saved him a seat.
The three girls, Harry, Hermione, and Parvati, were all wrinkling their noses like their lives depended on it.
Hermione, the perpetual straight-A student, was the only one still looking somewhat alive. The other two looked dead inside.
Biological weapon doesn't even begin to cover it.
The moment Lynn sat down, the two-hour torture session began.
Quirrell's stuttering while reading straight from the textbook was psychological and physical torment rolled into one. Hidden under the eye-watering garlic stink was an even nastier rotting smell, almost definitely the stench of Voldemort glued to the back of his head slowly decaying. The garlic was just a cover-up.
The entire class was nothing but hot air. Aside from reading the textbook word-for-word, all Quirrell did was stammer through pointless stories, like how his turban was a gift from an African prince after he defeated a zombie, only to turn beet-red and mumble about the weather the moment someone asked how he actually beat the zombie.
Hands down the worst class imaginable. No competition.
Even History of Magic, right after this, was a million times better. Sure, Professor Binns was a ghost who lectured in the most sleep-inducing monotone known to wizardkind, but at least the content was solid. The guy died mid-lecture, didn't even notice, and still showed up to teach the next day. If you asked him a question, he'd answer patiently. That's dedication.
Harry, sandwiched between Hermione and Lynn during History of Magic, barely ever dozed off. Having two academic overachievers on either side put the pressure on. Even when Lynn secretly read extracurricular books under the desk, it still pushed her to actually pay attention.
By the time the final class of the day, History of Magic, ended, Lynn had made up his mind.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was just too awful. He couldn't stomach the idea of spending an entire year breathing in that garlic hell. Even if not for himself, he at least wanted to see if he could do something about it.
Helping people was kind of his thing. It wasn't about showing off or getting praise; he genuinely didn't need anyone's gratitude. He just liked seeing the people he helped genuinely happy. That was enough.
Take Neville, for example; Lynn didn't expect anything in return. He just wanted the chubby kid to have a better time at school. That made Lynn happy too.
The problem was, even though Quirrell acted like a total incompetent idiot, he was actually really dangerous. A Ravenclaw graduate with top grades, the guy was legitimately powerful. With Voldemort riding shotgun, he even managed to break through Gringotts' underground vault defenses later on, something most wizards could never dream of pulling off.
Quirrell wasn't some pushover you could mess with. Quite the opposite of the bumbling front he put up. The dude was scary.
Even with three solid superpowers under his belt, Lynn wasn't confident he could take Quirrell alone.
The guy later killed a unicorn, remember? After hanging out with Hagrid a bit, Lynn had a pretty good idea how strong unicorns were. They were basically the apex predators of the Forbidden Forest. Nothing in there messed with them willingly. Even a lone unicorn, when pissed off, was more than a match for a single wizard. Poachers only stood a chance if they ganged up and targeted pregnant mares whose power dropped temporarily.
Yet Quirrell took one down like it was nothing, using dark magic that unicorns are supposed to resist the most.
Yeah… Lynn wasn't touching that without a plan.
"Maybe on Halloween?" Lynn muttered to himself, an idea slowly forming. "Professor Quirrell looks like he could really use some help."
"If only I could get my hands on some seriously overpowered gadget…"
Thinking about it made him depressed. His four-dimensional trash bag was just too lame. In over three years, he hadn't pulled a single future invention that was actually useful in a fight.
He wasn't asking for a time machine, Anywhere Door, or the "If Phone Booth" level of reality-breaking stuff. Just give him something like the Power Pickaxe Doraemon uses to dig holes, and Lynn would smash Quirrell's skull with one 100× strength swing, no worse than one of Hagrid's umbrella smacks.
Or the super-strength boxing gloves, hundreds of times power boost, one punch and Quirrell explodes.
Those things are so basic in Doraemon that nobody even remembers their names.
"If I could just get the Future Department Store catalog communicator, I could straight-up order whatever I want. I can't even imagine how strong I'd be…"
He let out a long sigh.
"Lynn, why the dramatic sigh?" Harry asked, poking him in the arm with her elbow after noticing he'd been staring into space.
"Nothing. Just thinking about having to listen to Quirrell's nonsense and smell that disgusting garlic all year makes me physically ill."
"Right?!" Harry nodded hard, then leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Lynn… I think I just got my period."
"Yeah, I figured. Drink lots of hot water, stay away from cold stuff, don't touch cold water if you can help it."
"That's it?"
"Go ask Hermione if you want more details. She probably knows way more than I do."
"Don't you think it's kinda weird?" Harry whispered.
"What's weird about it? You're a girl. It's supposed to happen," Lynn said with a shrug. "Totally normal."
The same future tech that could casually whip out causality-altering gadgets had zero trouble handling something like this. Honestly, compared to the "If Phone Booth," turning Harry into Harriet was small potatoes. And that wasn't even the only causality weapon in Doraemon's pocket.
"You just rest up these next few days. I'm gonna go check on Cho; she hasn't been feeling great either."
"Whoa, talk about playing favorites! I'm your friend too!"
"You've already got two girlfriends. Isn't that enough?"
"Cho's mine too, and she was my first," Harry huffed, hands on her hips.
"Exactly. You've got your hands full already. I'm just helping you take care of her. You're welcome."
Lynn ruffled Harry's hair, shoved his hands in his pockets, and sauntered off without a care in the world.
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