Desperate to see how Ariana would rip Lightbulb Boy’s head off, Ron and Harry spent the next few days barely taking their eyes off her.
But those days passed completely without incident.
They soon gave up.
“Merlin, I never imagined anyone could have this much energy.” Ron slumped over the dining table, his eyes dull.
For the first time, even the mouthwatering fried eggs on toast and crisp bacon couldn’t draw his attention.
“She’s got more stamina than Percy, Fred, and George combined.” Harry rested his chin on his hand, staring blankly ahead like he was worshipping the glass of pumpkin juice in front of him.
“Oho!
Did I hear—” “—our names?” The red-headed twins sauntered over with wide grins, slinging their arms around their little brother.
Then they caught sight of the massive dark circles under his eyes, drooping practically to his chin.
“Merlin’s beard, little Ronnie, did you go out burgling last night?” “Hey, looks like we underestimated you.
Sneaking out after hours in your first year—George, we’ve got a successor!” Fred said gleefully.
Up ahead, Percy was already glaring in their direction.
“Shut up!
Don’t call me that!” Ron shoved his brothers away.
“I wasn’t sneaking out!
I was hard at work studying!” he declared, sticking his neck out stubbornly.
“Ooh!
*Studying hard!* What a terrifying thought!
Turns out you’re Percy’s heir after all,” Fred squealed.
“My heart is broken—truly broken.
Little Ronnie actually likes Percy best!” George clutched his chest.
Ron’s face turned as red as his hair.
“Ooh, quick, let’s go!
The hardworking little baby is getting mad!” “He’s about to spew the foul air of academic effort and taint us!” Laughing, the twins slung their arms around each other’s shoulders and sauntered off.
Ron turned to Harry, grinding his teeth.
“You see?
If you had two brothers like that—hey, mate, you alright?” He poked at the unmoving Harry in panic.
“I think I’m a little bit dead,” Harry said with his eyes closed.
Forget his awful brothers; Ron’s thoughts immediately looped back to their original topic.
He burst into indignant complaints again: “She’s literally a non-stop Bludger!” Ariana had finished eating, packed her things, and departed the table full of energy.
“Did you see that?!
Did you see that?!
There she goes again!
Look at those legs move!” Ron shook Harry in sheer panic.
“Are we still following her?” “Wakes up at five-thirty every single day, runs a lap around the Black Lake, then spends an hour practicing spells on the lawn—” Ron ticked off his fingers.
“—then back to the dorm to change, down for breakfast, done eating in under ten minutes, then off to the library to read until eight-fifteen,” Harry finished weakly.
Naturally, the library wasn’t open that early, but Ariana had picked up *Alohomora* from Hermione—and somehow learned a Locking Charm from who-knows-where.
By the time Madam Pince showed up, Ariana was already leaving.
“Then she goes to the classroom forty-five minutes early to review and prepare—last time I sat near her, I saw her writing her own chapter summaries, expanding on mentioned characters and books, and she even had exam questions from the upper years!
Where does she even get those?” Ron, completely baffled, decided to give his brain a break and continued sighing, “And that’s just the morning!” “I can’t take it.
I really can’t,” Harry slumped weakly against the table.
“I can’t keep up.” Ron nodded vigorously.
“Honestly, seeing Malfoy’s head ripped off isn’t even worth it.” “If we keep following her, we’ll drop dead of fatigue long before Malfoy loses his head,” Harry said earnestly.
“After breakfast, I’m going back to bed for a bit.
Luckily, this morning’s class is Herbology, not Potions.
Otherwise I’d definitely explode my cauldron.” “And then Snape would rip your head off first,” Ron cackled.
“You could form a Headless Squad with Malfoy’s ghost.” “Piss off,” Harry said huffily.
“I really am going to sleep.” “Me too,” Ron chimed in, rushing after him.
They would live to regret this decision.
– Severus Snape woke up with a scowl, looking like he didn’t welcome this brand-new day in the slightest.
What was there to welcome?
It was time for the weekly staff meeting again.
After the meeting, he’d have to rush off to teach those troll-brained brats who seemed incapable of understanding human speech.
He had classes straight through the morning and afternoon today, and tonight he had to brew potions for the Hospital Wing—the Hospital Wing was *always* running out!
Those little trolls had terrible brains—constantly managing to injure themselves or turn themselves into hideous shapes for all sorts of bizarre reasons—yet their bodies were infuriatingly sturdy, perfectly capable of beating each other up.
The annoying old bumblebee hummed away up front.
Snape listened for a second—something about caring for students, something about patience and tolerance—and promptly tuned out.
He stared blankly at a speck of dust floating in a ray of light, watching it slowly sink to the ground, then turned to watch another.
By the time he finished watching the ninth speck of dust land, Dumbledore finally shut his mouth, signaling that the agonizing meeting was coming to an end.
The final few minutes were reserved for staff chit-chat: the day’s weather, the hall’s food, ridiculous mishaps by students in class, and lamentations over how every new batch of students was worse than the last.
Snape packed up his things while casually lending an ear.
The conversation shifted to students who brought them some small measure of comfort, and he caught a name being mentioned repeatedly—Ariana Ritchie.
He had some impression of this student.
Think about it: if you were a teacher, stuck every day teaching a bunch of little brats that “1 + 2 = 3,” while they stared back blankly with vacant eyes, scratching their heads and picking their noses—and then when you finished and asked what “2 + 1” was, they had the nerve to write down “4”!
And suddenly, along comes a student like this: whenever you lecture, she turns toward you like a little sunflower, tracking your every move with eyes full of admiration, as if you were the greatest wizard on earth.
You teach “1 + 2 = 3,” and she instantly realizes “1 + 3 = 4” and “2 + 3 = 5,” and even previews “2 × 3 = 6” ahead of time.
Even if you didn’t outright love such a well-behaved student, you certainly wouldn’t hold a bad impression of her.
What was more, though she took all her classes seriously, her favorite was *his*.
She loved it so much that even when he taught other houses, she would chase after the class just to listen in again.
Snape glanced at Flitwick, who was enthusiastically singing Ariana’s praises, and slowly turned his head away.
Her only flaw: she was a Gryffindor.
He wondered if the Sorting Hat was going senile.
Even Ravenclaw would have been better.
Dumbledore listened to the discussion, looking quite intrigued.
“Sounds like everyone thinks very highly of the child.” Professor Flitwick’s voice rose two octaves in excitement.
“I’ve never seen a child so gifted in Charms!
She demonstrated the Blasting Curse in my very first lesson!” “It wasn’t perfectly controlled, mind you—but that’s upper-year material, nowhere to be found in first-year textbooks!
And she’s a Muggle-born witch, which means she worked it out all on her own!
Merlin, how long has she even held a wand?” For some reason, Snape thought the old bumblebee’s face looked a bit troubled.
That old bumblebee just loved putting on a show.
Even after sitting down behind his desk in the dungeon, Snape was still mentally insulting the bee as part of his daily routine.
*Getting a bargain and acting aggrieved.* Suddenly, his heavy door slammed open with a loud bang, and a shiny silver creature darted through the doorway, wailing, “Godfather!
Godfather!
*Waaah!* My hair!
My hair!” Snape lowered his wand, its tip still lit, and said darkly, “Draco, perhaps I ought to discuss your manners with your father.
You look like a…” He stared at the hedgehog shining brightly even in the dim dungeon, rendered momentarily speechless.
Malfoy’s slicked-back platinum hair—the treasure he doted on so dearly, slathered with mountains of gel every day—had undergone a total makeover today.
In fact, its state had completely transformed: it now stood straight up like a cluster of silver needles pointing toward the ceiling.
Snape pressed his lips together, saying displeasedly, “Draco, I believe I suggested to you before that a boy needn’t spend so much time on grooming.
What hair-styling charm did you try to learn this time that went wrong?” Malfoy was on the verge of tears, his eyes welling up.
“I didn’t!
It was Ariana!
She did this!!” Snape, who just moments ago had been lamenting why the bright, well-behaved Ariana was a Gryffindor: ?
– In Herbology, Malfoy—his hair finally smooth again, though stripped of even a drop of hair gel (now, the moment he touched his hair and felt the slightest stiffness, he flinched)—strode furiously toward the Gryffindor group.
Two or three steps away from Ariana, he skidded to a halt.
Spotting Professor Sprout’s figure appearing at the greenhouse doorway, he instantly puffed out his chest again.
He declared menacingly, “Damn you, Ritchie!
You just wait!
Professor Snape wants you in detention tonight!
Just you wait!!” “—What are you laughing at?!”