Hermione didn’t laugh; she waited for an answer.
Lynn picked up an unopened Licorice Wand from the table and placed it down.
“Spells mostly come down to three things,” he said.
“What you want to do, how you make your magic understand it, and whether your wand can help you finish the job.” Hermione frowned.
“That’s way too simplistic.” “Simple doesn’t mean wrong.” Lynn tapped the table with the Licorice Wand.
“Ron was on shaky ground with all three just now.” Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Lynn kept going.
“First, he didn’t really believe the spell would work.
He was second-guessing himself as he spoke.” Ron opened his mouth again, unable to refute it.
“Second, the incantation’s focus is too scattered.
Sunshine, daisies, butter—they’re all yellow, but they’re completely different things.
You’re asking magic to split down three paths at once, so it can’t commit to any of them.” Hermione’s hand stopped turning the page.
Lynn pointed at Ron’s old wand.
“Third, the wand isn’t suited to him.
It belonged to someone else.
The grip, the habit, the lingering magic—none of it matches.
When Ron waved it, he was subconsciously avoiding the crack, so half his intent evaporated before he even finished.” Ron looked down at his wand, his annoyance gradually turning to hesitation.
Harry looked over too, as if realizing for the first time that a wand wasn’t just any piece of wood you could pick up and use.
Hermione stared at Lynn.
“How did you figure all that out?” “Watch the actions,” Lynn said.
“Then watch the result.” “Anyone can see the result,” Hermione pressed, unwilling to let it go.
“But saying his power scattered between his wrist and the shaft—you can’t deduce that just by looking at the result.” Lynn took a calm bite of the Licorice Wand.
“Then call it a lucky guess.” Hermione was clearly unsatisfied.
She flattened her book and pointed at a passage.
“The book says the key to casting is pronunciation and gesture.” “The book isn’t wrong,” Lynn said.
“Naturally, first-year textbooks focus on the easiest mistakes to make.
It’s like teaching someone to write—you start by making sure they write the letters correctly.
But knowing how to write letters doesn’t mean you know how to write a letter.” Hermione froze for a moment.
Ron leaned toward Harry, lowering his voice.
“We’re doomed.
She’s getting worked up.” Harry watched Lynn.
“He seems to be holding his ground.” “That’s because she hasn’t asked ten questions in a row yet,” Ron said.
Hermione ignored them.
Lynn ignored them too.
“Pronunciation gives direction, gestures pave the path, and the wand keeps the path stable,” Lynn said.
“But first, you have to understand what you’re trying to do.
It’s not about reciting words; it’s about making your magic understand.” Hermione looked down at her book, then back at Lynn.
“But the book also says that strong emotions can interfere with spellcasting.” “Exactly,” Lynn nodded.
“So being more excited doesn’t mean better results.
You can’t expect magic to help you precisely modify a needle while you’re furious.
That’s a good way to make the needle vanish entirely.” Ron immediately looked at Harry.
“I’m staying far away from Transfiguration.” Harry reminded him, “You can’t dodge it.” Ron looked even more miserable.
Lynn continued, “But having no intent at all doesn’t work either.
Spell training is just taking wild magic and teaching it to walk where you want it to.” Hermione fell silent for a few seconds.
These words didn’t contradict the book; they simply explained what the book left unsaid from a different angle.
Which actually frustrated her more.
Because she had read so many books, yet it had never occurred to her to understand it this way.
“What about accidental magic then?” Hermione pressed.
“Young witches and wizards make strange things happen before they even learn spells.” Lynn glanced at Harry.
Harry’s hand brushed against his bangs, then quickly dropped.
“That’s closer to instinct,” Lynn said.
“Fear, grievance, anger—magic will find its own outlet.
Like making glass disappear, turning hair a different color, or making someone you dislike trip.” Ron immediately asked Harry, “Have you done that?” Harry hesitated.
“Maybe.” Lynn added, “Not recommended to try intentionally, especially near stairs.” Harry looked down and smiled.
Hermione looked at the three of them with a complex expression.
It was probably the first time she realized not everyone grew up by the textbook.
“So, which book did you read?” she asked.
Ron perked up too.
“Yeah, which one?
Is there one you can read to get yelled at less?” Harry murmured, “If there is, it’s probably really expensive.” Lynn set down his Licorice Wand.
“No single book,” he said.
“A bit of reading, a bit of observation, a bit of feel.” Hermione instantly frowned.
“A ‘feel’ isn’t a reliable basis.” “Of course,” Lynn nodded.
“Which is why after we get to school, it’s best to verify with the professors.” Hermione’s prepared rebuttal stuck in her throat.
That response was too solid.
Not boastful, not pushy, and not claiming he was definitely right.
Ron took the opportunity to shove his old wand back into his pocket.
“So my failure wasn’t entirely my fault.” Hermione immediately countered, “Believing a spell your brothers taught you off the cuff is still your fault.” Ron’s face, which had just relaxed, slumped again.
Lynn took a sip of pumpkin juice.
“I wouldn’t say that.
At least it proved one thing.” Ron asked, “What?” “Fred and George are great at practical prank education,” Lynn said.
“The victims retain a deep impression, and the classroom results are consistent.” Harry laughed so hard he nearly dropped his candy.
Ron wanted to argue, but could only mutter, “If they knew you said that, they’d be thrilled.” Hermione couldn’t help herself either, the tension on her face softening slightly.
The tense atmosphere in the compartment evaporated.
Lynn didn’t touch the rat cage again.
His goal had been achieved.
Hermione stopped probing about Scabbers, and Ron wouldn’t keep trying spells on living creatures.
Harry’s focus was back on his wand rather than the gray rat.
Hermione closed her book, though she didn’t leave immediately.
She clutched the book to her chest, her fingers pressing against the corner, her speaking speed noticeably slower than before.
“If I have questions later, can I ask you?” Ron stared at her.
Harry turned to look at Lynn too.
Lynn knew the value of that sentence.
Hermione would look up references, ask professors, and spend hours in the library.
She would reach the hidden edges of Hogwarts’ lore much earlier than most first-years.
An eager new student asking a classmate was completely reasonable.
Two eager new students looking up materials together was equally reasonable.
“Sure,” Lynn said.
“Though I can’t promise I’ll know the answer every time.” Hermione immediately added, “If you don’t know, we can look it up together.
The library should have more than enough material.” Hearing “library,” Ron’s face fell even further.
“You haven’t even stepped foot in the school yet, and you’re already scheduling library dates?” Hermione corrected him, “It’s not a date, it’s a study plan.” Ron looked at Harry.
“Hear that?
We haven’t even been sorted, and someone’s already making study plans.” Harry thought about it.
“Might be a good thing.
At least someone knows what to do.” Ron clutched his chest.
“Harry, you can’t defect so fast.” Lynn packed away his Chocolate Frog card.
“Don’t worry, Ron.
Hogwarts has places for you too.” Ron grew wary.
“Like where?” “The Great Hall,” Lynn said.
“I hear the food is good.” Ron gave it serious thought and actually accepted it.
“That’s true.
My brothers said the start-of-term feast is amazing.” Hermione picked up her book and stood up.
She was much gentler than when she had walked in, but the drive to get to the bottom of things remained.
“I still need to help Neville look for his toad,” she said.
“If you see Trevor, please tell him.
And Ron, stop torturing your rat with that spell.” Ron muttered softly, “It didn’t turn yellow anyway.” Hermione stopped at the doorway.
“That’s not the point.” Lynn glanced at the cage.
“The point is it kept its original color.” Harry laughed again.
Ron scratched his hair and grumbled awkwardly, “Fine.
If we see the toad, we’ll let you know.” Hermione nodded and pushed the door open to leave.
The cold wind from the corridor slipped in before being shut out by the door.
The compartment quieted down.
Harry watched the closed door, letting out a breath.
“She knows so much.” Ron immediately said, “She talks so much, too.” Lynn leaned back into his seat.
“Those two things often go hand in hand.” Ron thought it over and nodded.
“Fair point.” Harry picked up his wand, looking at it carefully.
“So casting spells isn’t just about pronouncing the incantation right?” “Of course,” Lynn said.
“Though mispronouncing it usually causes trouble much faster.” Ron immediately shoved his old wand deeper into his pocket.
The train continued north.
Rain slid down the window glass, leaving the compartment filled with the smell of snacks, old luggage, and the sweetness of pumpkin juice.
Lynn mentally reviewed what had just happened.
The emotional echo on the door.
And Scabbers.
Now was not the time to touch it.
Canonical memories were a blade, but a blade shouldn’t be waved around without a sheath.
Ron suddenly lowered his voice.
“Lynn, those things you said—did you really not get them from a book?” “Not entirely from a book.” “Then could you teach me a bit in the future?” Ron touched the patch on his sleeve.
“Doesn’t have to be much.
Just enough so I don’t look like a fool in front of Hermione.” Harry looked over too.
Lynn didn’t agree immediately.
He didn’t plan on being a pocket tutor for the Trio.
But giving a bit of foundational advice could trade for trust and help them avoid a few traps.
“Sure,” Lynn said.
“On one condition.” Ron instantly grew nervous.
“What condition?
I don’t have much money.” “It’s not about money.” Lynn looked at the snacks on the table.
“In the future, don’t test spells your brothers teach you on living things first.” Ron went silent for two seconds.
“That condition sounds like it’s meant to protect Scabbers.” “Or maybe to protect you.” Harry nodded earnestly.
“I think it’s a great condition.” Ron sighed.
“Fine, then.” Right then, the noise outside in the corridor died down.
Several footsteps stopped in front of the compartment door.
Someone let out a light chuckle.
“So, Harry Potter is in here?”