"What?" Michael looked confused.
Hogwarts runs on a seven-year education system, but if a student fails all their Ordinary Wizarding Level exams (a.k.a. OWLs), they have to leave after fifth year. So Michael didn't understand why Wade was asking such a commonly known fact.
"Seven years," Wade said heavily. "A year only has fifty-two weeks. Take out the summer and Christmas holidays, and we're only in school for about thirty-eight weeks a year. That's just 266 weeks total across all seven years!"
"Uh…" Michael thought for a second. "That's true… so what?"
"So… even if I can thoroughly read one book a week, that's only 266 books in seven years! But how many books are in the Hogwarts Library? Thousands! It's like walking into a vault full of treasure that you're free to take—but you come out with only a small pouch of Galleons. Don't you think that's a waste?"
Michael found this surprisingly persuasive. A sense of urgency suddenly welled up inside him.
"And think about this," Wade went on. "These seven years—no, these 266 weeks—are the only time we'll be in the safest place in the world, where we can ask the greatest living witches and wizards anything we want. We're learning Transfiguration from Professor McGonagall, one of only seven registered Animagi of the 20th century; Charms from Professor Flitwick, a dueling champion; Potions from the potion master Professor Snape… Okay, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is a bit lacking. But once you leave Hogwarts, where are you going to find such an ideal environment to study? After graduation, if you come across some complicated spell or potion, who's going to take the time to guide you step by step? And if you want to study powerful magic later and find yourself at a loss for where to start, don't you think it'll be too late to regret not using the Hogwarts Library when you had the chance?"
Not just Michael—at some point, the students around them had all quieted down and were now nodding in agreement.
"So, Michael—" Wade asked solemnly, "do you still think it's enough to spend one-seventh of our time here just learning eight books?"
Completely convinced by Wade's logic, Michael shook his head vigorously. He wanted to say something but hesitated—and then, thinking of the two weeks he'd already "wasted," felt a surge of anxiety.
He immediately stopped chatting with the girls, pulled out his Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration from the corner where he'd tossed it, and started studying.
In that moment, the Ravenclaw common room fell silent—only the sound of flipping pages and quills scratching on parchment remained. Two fifth-year students, rushing in just before curfew, were so startled by the atmosphere they thought Professor Snape had invaded the Ravenclaw dorm. They tiptoed straight to their rooms, not daring to breathe loudly.
Later at Dinner, in the Great Hall
"Something's off, Fred."
"Yeah, something's definitely wrong, George."
The red-haired twins exchanged a look and each grabbed a random Ravenclaw student. Before the boy could even shout, they dragged him over to the Gryffindor table.
"What do you two want, Weasleys?" the Ravenclaw boy said irritably. "I don't have time for your pranks."
"Huh? What?" said Ron, confused as he looked up from gnawing on a chicken leg.
"Not you, Ronniekins!" Fred pushed his little brother's head back down. The twins each threw an arm around the Ravenclaw boy's shoulders.
"Davis," George began, "what's up with Ravenclaw lately?"
"Reading books during meals—"
"Reading books while walking—"
"Not a single Ravenclaw seen lounging in the courtyard at lunch—"
"Even Quidditch practices are half-hearted now—"
"Not even dating on the weekends!"
"You weren't this much of a bookworm before!"
"Seriously, did Snape spike your food or something?"
"—With, like, a love potion for studying or whatever?"
The thought of Professor Snape mixed with a pink-scented love potion made Roger Davis visibly shudder. "Don't be ridiculous—Snape would never use a love potion… I mean, there's no such love potion… Look, we just realized—life is short, and the time we have to study is even shorter."
"…Huh?" the twins blinked, baffled.
Roger Davis took a deep breath and looked solemnly at them. "Fred. George. Do you know how long we really get to stay at Hogwarts?"
Fred silently reached out to check his forehead for fever.
"I'm not sick!" Davis slapped his hand away and launched into a serious explanation involving "266 weeks," "thousands of books," and "leaving a treasure trove empty-handed."
Once he was done, Davis grabbed his book and went back to the Ravenclaw table to eat dinner. Fred and George looked at each other in bewilderment. Even Harry and Ron, who had been happily eating, had unknowingly stopped chewing.
A quiet wave of academic motivation began to spread through Hogwarts.
Of course, for most students, it only lasted a few minutes. Ron, for example, only focused long enough to finish his History of Magic essay before going back to fiddling with his enchanted wizard chess. The twins mostly still spent their time on pranks and magical mischief. But there were a few students who were quietly inspired.
Michael was one of those "on-and-off" types. He was clever but not very disciplined. Occasionally, Wade's words would motivate him for a while, but he'd quickly get distracted by more interesting things—like using magic to make paper dolls fight, or chatting with pretty girls about music and fashion.
Most of the time, the study room was occupied by Wade, Hermione, Theo, and Ryan.
Sometimes Professor Sprout from Herbology would drop by, probably to check if they were doing anything dangerous. But after seeing the setup and their progress, she was full of praise. She gave each of their houses five points and told them they were welcome to come to her with questions whenever she wasn't in class—she was more than happy to help students learn.
Professor Sprout truly was a kind and gentle witch. She almost never showed favoritism based on house, only showing extra fondness for students especially gifted in Herbology. Not long after, she even recommended a Gryffindor student to join their study group—Neville Longbottom.
The round-faced boy was honest and kind, though clumsy in his studies. He was the slowest of them all when it came to spells, but he was earnest, hardworking, and easy to get along with. He soon blended naturally into their little group.
On a weekend evening, a new notice on the common room bulletin board caused a stir among the first-years—starting next week, they would have their first Flying Lessons!
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