The aroma inside the compartment was simply too tempting to resist.
Neville, being soft-hearted and easygoing, briefly forgot about Trevor and sat down.
It wasn’t that he was greedy!
He was just accepting his classmates’ apology!
After all, they were all schoolmates—and schoolmates should get along peacefully, right?
After one fried chicken leg, everyone quickly warmed up and exchanged names.
“Goodness—Harry Potter?!
Is it really you?” Hermione exclaimed upon meeting a “character from books.” “I know all about you, of course.
I even bought extra reference books—Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Magical Events of the Twentieth Century—you’re mentioned in all of them.” “Mentioned?” Harry suddenly felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.
“You didn’t know?
If it were me, I’d track down every single book that mentions me.” Hermione then turned to Ron.
“You were holding your wand just now.
Were you going to perform a spell?” Ron was busy fighting Neville for food and mumbled, “Uh… yeah…” “Brilliant!
Show us, then!” Her tone was arrogant, overbearing, and dismissive—as if everyone else in the room simply didn’t exist.
“Ahem… alright…” Under everyone’s gaze, Ron wiped his hands, picked up his wand, and aimed it at Scabbers.
“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!” Swish— Ron waved his wand, but unsurprisingly, nothing happened.
“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” Hermione asked with suspicion and doubt.
“It doesn’t look very effective, does it?” “I’ve tried a few simple spells at home for practice, and they all worked.
No one in my family knows magic, so when I got my letter, I was astonished but overjoyed—Hogwarts is the finest magic school there is, from what I understand.
I’ve memorised all the textbooks, of course.
I just hope that’s enough.” Embarrassed, Ron muttered, “What’s there to brag about?
Elavin knows way more spells than you.” “Really?” Hermione quickly figured that Elavin was likely from the Muggle world like her, and looked at him with suspicion and doubt.
“Of course!” Elavin grinned proudly.
“If you’re a Muggle, looking at me is like a frog at the bottom of a well staring up at the moon.
If you’re a witch, it’s like an ant trying to see the heavens.” Hermione: “…” “Let me ask you—have any of you ever seen the sky at four in the morning?” All four of them shook their heads.
“I have.” Elavin pointed at himself with a thumbs-up.
“After I received my Hogwarts letter, I started waking up at four every morning.” “A quick wash, then one hour of memorising spells—that’s when your brain is at its sharpest.” “Half an hour of exercise—keeps the body strong, sharpens focus, clears the mind.” “At breakfast, I read the day’s newspaper to stay updated on current affairs.” “After that, potion formulas, brewing steps, ingredient properties—everything was fully reviewed.” “Wizarding education is important, but Muggle education cannot be neglected either.” “So from seven to twelve every morning: Mathematics, Foreign Languages, Biology, Herbology, and Transfiguration—one hour each.” “From one to six in the afternoon: Chemistry, Politics, Astronomy and Geography, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Charms—again, one hour each.” “From seven to eleven at night: exercises across all ten subjects, copying notes, and maintaining an error notebook.” “Before bed: half an hour of either A History of Magic or human history.” “On top of that, weekends are for music, art, dance, cooking, and chess.” “And every night at 11:30 sharp—I sleep.
No delaying exhaustion into tomorrow.” Question: What does a grind king fear most?
Answer: A grind god who grinds harder than he does.
Anyone who’s ever survived high school knows this truth—grind kings aren’t afraid of prodigies.
They understand there’s an innate gap between themselves and true geniuses.
That gap is called “talent,” and it’s not something effort can bridge.
So grind kings aren’t afraid of prodigies.
What they truly fear is someone with equal or even lesser talent—who out-grinds them and still surpasses them.
In other words—a true grind god among grind kings.
At this point, even saying “pure-blood wizards aren’t that impressive” out loud was impossible—even if everyone knew it was true.
Hermione stood frozen, her thoughts collapsing into silence.
In her past life, she had never encountered anyone with truly superior talent, so she quickly figured that Elavin was simply an ordinary person who had reached a higher level through sheer grinding.
And that was something she could not accept at all.
She could not tolerate anyone out-grinding her.
“Frozen Tide!” Elavin’s mouth felt dry, so he pulled out a bottle of cola.
With a tap of his wand, it instantly turned ice-cold.
He took a long sip and felt completely refreshed.
“If you can do all this, you’ll definitely become as outstanding as me!” “You… you’re also… from a Muggle family?” Hermione stammered.
From what Elavin had just said, she concluded that he was likely from the Muggle world like her—but on a completely different level of effort.
That spell he just used—she was certain she couldn’t replicate it right now.
“That’s right,” Elavin said, acting helpless on purpose.
“I’ve lived in the Muggle world my entire life.
I’ve only been exposed to magic for less than two months.” Hermione stood frozen, her thoughts collapsing into silence.
“Less than two months… and you can already cast the Freezing Spell so smoothly?
That’s usually taught in third year…” “It can’t be helped,” Elavin said, acting helpless on purpose.
“You see, we’re different from pure-blood wizards.” “They’ve been exposed to magic since childhood.
Most of them already know many spells before entering school.” “For someone like me—from a Muggle family—I’m already starting behind the line.
If I don’t work harder, how can I possibly keep up?” “If I fall behind at Hogwarts, become the class failure, get sent a Howler, or even get expelled, then my future is completely ruined.” “So, I have no choice but to push myself to the absolute limit.” Neville tried to speak, but Elavin shut him up completely with a chicken leg.
By the time he finished chewing, the moment had already passed.
At this point, even saying “pure-blood wizards aren’t that impressive” out loud was impossible—even if everyone knew it was true.