The moment eight hours passed, the draught of living death lost its potency entirely. Lynn's eyes snapped open the instant the Potion wore off.
Her body had long been trying to force a 'reboot,' but the draught trapped her in a miserable cycle of waking and slipping back under.
Now that the Potion had completely faded, Lynn woke at once—no surprise.
At the foot of her bed, Professor McGonagall shifted back from a tabby cat. The stern Witch pressed her lips together as she studied her.
Professor Flitwick sat nearby; when he saw her stir, he offered a glass of water.
Lynn took the cup in both hands, muttered a flat 'thank you,' then lowered her head for a small sip.
Madam Pomfrey strode over from the cots of Hermione and the others, flicking her wand at Lynn.
'Physically you're fine, but your mind still needs rest. You'll stay here for a while—no arguments.' Her authoritative gaze pinned the girl; within the Hospital Wing, few dared challenge Madam Pomfrey's word.
Lynn hesitated, eyeing the matron calmly. 'I'll need to fetch some books. Mine are in the dormitory; I've finished several and want to exchange them at the Library.'
Madam Pomfrey inhaled sharply. Listen to the child—after all this, she still thinks about homework?
'Miss Lynn, what you need is rest. Studies can wait; your health comes first, understood?'
The words struck a reflex in her brain: studies first. The notion ballooned until it filled her skull.
In a level, mechanical tone she answered, 'Academics take priority. My body only wants to slack off and waste study time.'
Madam Pomfrey felt her temper spike. She shot a look at Professors McGonagall and Flitwick—say something.
'Miss Lin, I understand your zeal for learning, yet Madam Pomfrey is right,' said Professor McGonagall, gently clasping the girl's hand. 'You may read in the Hospital Wing, but you must obey Madam Pomfrey. When she tells you to rest—you rest.'
Teachers can hardly forbid an eager pupil from studying—especially with the school's healer watching to prevent excess.
Lynn's mind raced through the logic: Professor McGonagall required her to follow Madam Pomfrey's orders, including rest periods.
Therefore, resting when told was not merely medical advice—it was a Professor's directive.
'Understood. I will comply.' Lynn gave a stiff nod.
All three adults exhaled in relief, though one puzzle lingered.
After taking the draught, Lynn had woken every hour—something unheard of.
Yet tests showed only exhaustion and minor stomach damage, so they chalked it up to an unusual constitution.
If Potion-master Professor Snape and healer Madam Pomfrey couldn't explain it, a first-year probably couldn't either.
Pressing her might only add unnecessary stress—hardly worth the cost.
'Rest well, Miss Lynn,' Professor Flitwick said cheerfully, rising.
'Don't worry about exams; you earned an excellent mark.'
'Indeed,' Professor McGonagall added with a smile. 'My subject gave you a high score as well.'
'Thank you, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick.' Lynn gave a robotic nod, automatically concluding the scores were perfect.
Though surviving the first two-thirds of the year-end exams secured middling resources for a family, only full marks counted as 'passing'—her parents had drilled that into her.
Only perfect scores avoided punishment, so praise equaled one hundred percent in her mind.
Yet why commend her for merely meeting the minimum standard?
No confusion surfaced; the thought simply drifted through her consciousness.
After the Professors left and Madam Pomfrey withdrew to plan digestive tonics, the curtains around her were drawn back.
Harry lay to her left, Hermione to her right; beyond Harry was Ron.
They had woken during Madam Pomfrey's rounds. Ron now groaned theatrically.
'Barely open my eyes and I hear grades being discussed—Merlin, my mood's ruined.'
'You studied fine, Ron. Have some faith,' Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes. 'If not in yourself, trust my tutoring—it's solid.'
'Or,' she narrowed her eyes, 'did you skip the topics I told you to memorize?'
'I remembered, all of it—honest!' Ron threw his hands up.
For Merlin's sake, he was still recovering; he didn't need a Hermione-sized book hurled at him.
Appeased, Hermione slipped off her cot and sat by Lynn, tucking a strand of hair behind the other girl's ear.
'Sleep well last night?' The Professors hadn't mentioned the hourly wakings, so Hermione remained unaware.
'Fine.' Lynn answered without expression.
She glanced at her watch, calculated: eight hours of sleep—eight full hours.
You slacked off!
The words exploded across her mind, triggering sharp pain.
In the courtyard of a villa, a girl in shorts and T-shirt stood barefoot. Snow had been swept around so it buried her feet.
A Middle-aged woman at the door hugged her down coat tighter. 'Slacked off, have you? The runner-up trails you by only ten points! Why did Physics lose a mark—why not full?'
'So you're satisfied? You call this acceptable?'
'No…' Snowflakes coated the girl; her body shook uncontrollably, yet her face showed no pain.
'Say it yourself: I slacked off.' The woman glared.
'I slacked off.'
'Again!'
'I slacked off.'
'Louder!'
'I slacked off.'
'Good.' The woman smiled in satisfaction. 'Remember this lesson.'
The girl's lips were blue, her bare feet red where the snow gripped them.
"Lynn, Mummy's doing this for your own good—you absolutely must hold on to first place."
The Middle-aged woman looked as though she were pleading for her own child. "Same as always—come in yourself in ten minutes." She turned and walked back into the villa.
The door slammed shut; through her down jacket the Middle-aged woman rubbed her arms. "Freezing! Why is this winter so cold?"
You slacked off!
The four flashing words stabbed at Lynn's mind, and memories surged up like a tide.
She ought to do something… she deserved punishment; a voice inside her whispered.
Hermione had said she mustn't punish herself for studying, another voice countered. The two tore at each other as if to split her brain in half.
Even as the memories crashed in and her head throbbed, Lynn's expression never flickered.
Yet, watching her eyes, Hermione sensed something dark crossing her mind—she was… struggling?
Without hesitation Hermione kicked off her slippers, climbed onto the bed, and pulled her into a hug, gently patting her back.
Harry and Ron "obediently" turned their backs to give the girls privacy.
"What is it? What are you thinking?" Hermione asked softly, looking down at the girl in her arms.
Warm… so warm… Lynn lifted her blank gaze: no villa, no drifting snow, only Hermione's gentle smile and her warm embrace.
"I slacked off…" Lynn murmured the verdict her brain had produced.
"Who says?" Hermione frowned. "The Professors just praised your marks."
"I slept eight hours last night, and I haven't studied at all today. I slacked off, I…" Her voice was toneless.
Hermione covered her mouth, eyes serious. "You did not slack off, understand? You simply rested—normally, necessarily."
"I didn't slack off?" Lynn confirmed, emotionless.
"You didn't." Hermione nodded firmly.
"But I slept in, and I didn't use study time for studying."
"That's called giving yourself a holiday." Hermione smoothed her hair.
"Holiday…" Lynn's mind instantly produced the definition: holiday? In her world, holidays were for self-directed study, crammed with books and papers, not lying in bed.
"This is a holiday?" Lynn stared at Hermione's slender white neck.
"This is a holiday." Hermione pulled her closer, tucking her face into the curve of her neck.
"Stop thinking. Let your brain rest."
"Mm…" Her thoughts swept away, Lynn lay motionless, breathing in Hermione's scent.
Beside them Harry had quietly drawn the curtains around his bed, cutting them off.
"Harry…" Ron clutched his stomach. "Think I can ask Madam Pomfrey for a stomach Potion? It hurts."
"You can try?" Harry answered uncertainly.
"When do we get out of here?" Ron waited until the pang passed, then bit off a huge chunk of the chocolate Madam Pomfrey had left.
"This afternoon, probably. But Lynn has to stay—the Professors said she needs rest."
"She really does need it," Ron agreed.
Harry sighed. After spending so much time with her, he could feel the faint clash inside Lynn, as though what she did wasn't what she wanted.
It was vague, far weaker than Hermione's sense of it, but it worried him.
As friends, they were genuinely concerned.
Once he'd thought she simply loved studying—she still did—but something felt off.
As Harry had guessed, the three of them were released that afternoon; Lynn was kept in.
That same afternoon Maranhao and Marietta were finally allowed into the Hospital Wing.
"Merlin be praised, you're all right." Maranhao pressed a hand to her heart at the sight of her expressionless junior reading in bed.
Merlin knew how frightened she and Marietta had been when the rumours started.
A Dark Wizard—Professor Quirrell—had tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Gryffindor's saviour trio had intervened, and in the end Ravenclaw's Lynn had faced and defeated the Dark Wizard.
Even if she'd won, who knew what curses she might have taken?
A Dark Wizard! And hadn't Lynn spent the night in the Hospital Wing?
Lynn closed her book and greeted them politely. "Senior Maranhao, Senior Marietta, good afternoon."
"Good afternoon," Marietta smiled. "Feeling better?"
"I'm fine. Madam Pomfrey simply believes I need more rest," Lynn answered, voice flat.
"Absolutely right!" the two seniors said in chorus.
"Pity you'll miss tomorrow's Quidditch match—Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor."
They settled into chairs on either side of her bed.
"Thanks to you, Ravenclaw's eight hundred points ahead; no one can catch us."
"You're our hero. Everyone says we'll throw you a private celebration when you're out," Maranhao added, beaming.
Lynn's expression did not change. "I only did what I should."
Maranhao and Marietta exchanged glances and shrugged helplessly.
Inside the watch on Lynn's wrist, Rowena Ravenclaw—freshly wakened from intermittent slumber—caught every word.
Before she could rejoice, she realised the child was in the Hospital Wing.
In the Hospital Wing?! After taking Crucio she'd refused to come—what could have forced her here now?
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