The Ravenclaw common room had emptied hours ago. The students, having survived the grueling exams, were now happily scattered across the castle, either blowing off steam or passed out in their dormitories.
I sat in my bed, the curtains drawn around me, my wand glowing faintly as I reviewed my day. By all accounts, Ravenclaw had done brilliantly on the exams. No surprise there—we're the house of the Bookworm, after all.
"Well," I muttered to myself, "except for Simon , hope he pass. Poor bloke still thinks he can write an essay in bullet points."
Hermione was bound to come first, of course. That girl probably had her notes color-coded and cross-referenced. Vik would be second—no doubt he'd already started planning seeing me . Freya wasn't far behind, though I suspect she spent half her revision time perfecting her handwriting instead of studying.
The real highlight of my day, though, was the Gryffindor Trio cornering me in the hallway.
"Jason, we need your help," Harry had said, his green eyes serious.
Ron nodded eagerly. "Yeah, mate, it's Snape. He's going after the Philosopher's Stone tonight. We're going to stop him."
I nearly laughed out loud. "You're going to stop him?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Do you hear yourselves? You're first-years."
Hermione huffed, folding her arms. "We know what we're doing. We just thought you might want to help."
"Thanks, but no thanks," I replied.
Ron's jaw dropped like I'd just confessed to cheering for Slytherin. "What d'you mean, no thanks? You're just going to let Snape get away with it?"
"Ron," I said patiently, "if Dumbledore is here, nothing bad will happen. Full stop. Do you really think anything will happen if dumbeldore is here?"
Hermione frowned. "But he's not doing anything! "
"Of course he's sitting there," I said. "He's Dumbeldore. You three, on the other hand, are about to risk your necks because you think you're the only ones who've noticed Snape being suspicious."
Ron glared. "You sound just like Percy."
"I'll take that as a compliment," I said with a grin.
Now, lying in bed, I couldn't help but replay the conversation in my head.
"If only they knew," I muttered, staring at the canopy above me.
The whole thing was laughable if you thought about it. You're telling me a professor possessed by Voldemort hasn't been noticed by Dumbledore and Snape, two master Legilimens? It was absurd.
And don't get me started on the so-called "challenges" guarding the stone.
"A devil's snare, a chessboard, a broomstick chase, and a potion challenge?" I whispered to myself, incredulous. "This is supposed to stop dark wizards? Really?"
Dumbledore could cast the Fidelius Charm in his sleep. He had the Elder Wand, for Merlin's sake! If he'd wanted the stone hidden, no one would've found it. Not even Voldemort.
No, this whole thing was clearly some elaborate test. A way to mold Harry into the hero the wizarding world needed. And who better to kick off his journey than a noseless narcissist stuck to the back of Quirrell's head?
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Still, I suppose they mean well," I muttered. "Even if they're about to step into the most obvious trap in Hogwarts history."
For a moment, I considered sneaking out to follow them. Not to help, of course, but to watch. It'd be like seeing a Gryffindor production of The Sorcerer's Stone: A Comedy of Errors.
But then I thought better of it. "Nah," I decided. "I'll let them have their moment. Besides, Dumbledore's probably already got the fireworks ready for when they succeed."
I extinguished my wand, settling into my pillow with a smirk. "Foolish bravery," I muttered. "It's practically a Gryffindor motto."
And with that, I closed my eyes, ready to face another day in the ever-dramatic world of Hogwarts.
----------Jason's POV
The Great Hall was a sea of green and silver banners as we filed in for the end-of-year feast. The Slytherins were already grinning smugly, clapping each other on the back as if they'd personally invented magic. Across the hall, Gryffindors were noticeably subdued, heads bowed over their plates, trying to look anywhere but at the decorations.
4. Gryffindor :312
3. Huffelpuff :352
2. Ravenclaw :426
1. Slytherin :472
I couldn't blame them—losing 150 points in one go because of Malfoy tattling to McGonagall had to sting.
As the Ravenclaw table filled up, Simon leaned toward me, gesturing to the green banners. "It's all fixed, isn't it?" he muttered. "You think they actually earned that?"
Before I could answer, Tobi chimed in, "Penelope told me Snape's always giving Slytherin extra points. That's why they've won for seven years straight."
Josh, ever the serious one, nodded. "That's absolutely unacceptable. I'll be talking to my father about this."
"Calm down, Josh," I said with a smirk. "If your complain, Snape will probably just dock us another 50 points next year for 'insubordination.'"
"But it's unfair!" Vik protested, frowning.
"Life is unfair," I said sagely. "And honestly, we're better off not winning. Imagine the pressure next year if we had to defend the title."
Simon stared at me. "You've got a funny way of looking at things, Jason."
I grinned. "That's why you like me, mate."
Dumbledore stood at the head table, his eyes twinkling with barely concealed mischief. "Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," he said, his voice carrying over the chatter. "However, recent events must be taken into account."
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. Here we go.
"To Miss Hermione Granger, for the cool use of intellect while others were in grave peril, fifty points!"
The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers as Hermione blushed furiously.
"Good job, Hermione," Harry said, patting her on the back.
"Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess that Hogwarts has seen these many years, fifty points!"
Ron's mouth fell open, and he looked at Harry as if to confirm it wasn't a dream. The Gryffindors cheered even louder.
"And third, to Mr. Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
The Gryffindor table erupted into a frenzy of applause, the noise echoing through the hall.
Hermione, ever quick with numbers, whispered loudly, "We're tied with Slytherin!"
"And finally," Dumbledore continued, raising a hand for silence, "it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends. I award ten points to Neville Longbottom."
Jason to himself "and how did you know?"
The Gryffindors exploded into celebration as the banners above us turned red and gold. Hats flew into the air, students cheered, and even Hagrid let out a whoop of joy.
Across the hall, the Slytherins looked like they'd collectively swallowed a bag of acid pops. Malfoy's face was the perfect picture of outrage, and I couldn't help but snicker.
"Now that's satisfying," Tobi said, grinning from ear to ear.
Simon nudged me. "Why aren't you celebrating, Jason? Slytherin's finally lost!"
I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. "Because we didn't win. And if you think about it, this whole thing's a farce."
Vik frowned. "But it's great Slytherin didn't win this year, right?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Think, Vik. Snape rigs the game for Slytherin every year. Now Dumbledore swoops in with some conveniently timed 'last-minute points' to hand Gryffindor the win. This isn't a fair competition—it's theater."
Josh nodded thoughtfully. "He's got a point. Who did Ron even play chess against? And how does anyone verify Harry's 'pure nerve'?"
Simon frowned. "But Hermione's points were fair. Maybe earned them becasue she came first ."
"Oh, absolutely," I said, nodding. "But so did Penelope Clearwater when she aced every exam, and no one's giving Ravenclaw a trophy for it."
Tobi sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, alright, Jason, you're ruining the fun. Let's just agree that Malfoy's face right now is worth celebrating."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Now that, I can get behind. He looks like someone just nicked his broomstick."
"Or told him his hair isn't that shiny," Simon added.
The table erupted into laughter, and even I couldn't keep the grin off my face. "Fine," I said, raising my goblet. "To Malfoy's face. May it be a source of joy for years to come."
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