"Hey, want one of these?"
A redhead popped up from beneath the Ravenclaw table. George raised his eyebrows with a knowing look.
"Oh? That thing? You actually made it?"
Robert had been discussing "The Plan to Frantically Earn Points in the Final Days and Crush All Houses Daring to Compete with Ravenclaw for the House Cup" with Sterling. He turned to George with equal interest.
"That's right, hot off the press—absolutely fair and objective—you get what you pay for—"
"Fair and objective—if it's not, I'm demanding a refund. How much? Give me one—no, three copies."
"Only five Knuts—excellent value! But you can't resell to Slytherins. And don't leak it to them either."
"I'm already doubting how fair this really is."
Robert took the three booklets George handed over. The redhead immediately dove back under the table, making his way toward another group of Ravenclaws.
"Prefect Robert, what's this? Some new contraband that appeared while we were at the competition?"
Sterling asked. Robert handed two copies to him and Terry, who was quietly drinking milk beside them. Robert wore a proud smile.
"You'll see."
Sterling opened the first page. He hadn't expected this to be the "cover." Four colored inks spelled out one word each: "Hogwarts Combat Power Rankings (First Edition)"
Below was a line of small red text: "Produced by Gryffindor"
"This is rated based on performance during last month's conflict?"
"Exactly. Worthy of Ravenclaw's star—your brain works fast."
Sterling wasn't stupid. But this kind of thing—would it really gain recognition? Young wizards loved making excuses for themselves.
When Ron had lost to Harry during practice, he'd come up with endless reasons. Ate too much and felt sluggish. Ate too little and had no strength. Just had Potions class and was thrown off by Snape. Didn't have Potions class, so Snape hadn't pushed him hard enough. Basically—say it a thousand times—he, Ron Weasley, was not weaker than Harry Potter!
Sterling kept flipping. Gryffindor had been quite thorough, classifying by age but not separating by house. He flipped to the first year first. He figured first place should be Neville.
After all, Neville was the only child among those remaining from Utopia who'd been emotionally controlled and actually fought. Terry had also performed on the last day, even defeating a third-year student, but unfortunately, that day had been reversed. His performance was zero.
Sterling thought even less of himself. During that time, he hadn't been at Hogwarts at all. What performance could he possibly have?
But the result—
"First Place: Sterling Page (Ravenclaw)"
Huh? Who's trying to set me up?
"Haha, Sterling, I knew you'd be first. I was thinking whoever ranked ahead of you, I'd make you duel them."
Terry's happy voice sounded in his ear, but Sterling couldn't laugh.
Right. If I weren't first, I'd fight for first place. Winning would prove I was first, wouldn't it?
Others would think the same. He hadn't displayed any exceptional magical techniques—except for "mysterious" potions methods and excellent classroom performance in every lesson.
I can already feel half the Gryffindor hotheads rubbing their hands together, preparing to give this "bookworm" a wake-up call.
Should he make a statement? He didn't want to be bothered during these final days. He was planning to spend the pre-vacation period in full relaxation mode.
After all, as soon as vacation started, he'd have to handle Andrew's situation. Now was his last chance to rest.
He could use magical flames or demonstrate human Transfiguration. But he really didn't want to think about it. How about something simple and direct?
Terry, still happily reading the booklet beside him, suddenly had his vision darken. In his mind appeared Sterling stepping on flames like a villain, announcing to the entire Great Hall, "Don't disturb me."
Can this work, Sterling? You've got the skills, but can I, your "best friend," survive the social fallout?
Did your emotional intelligence drop to Harry's level after rescuing him once? No—this is Hermione's emotional intelligence level when she first entered Ravenclaw!
Terry snapped out of this terrible vision. He immediately grabbed Sterling's arm.
"Calm down, Sterling. Look below, look at the detailed introduction below. No one will disturb you—"
Sterling suppressed the magical flames. He looked at the small text below his name.
"Based on Neville Longbottom's nomination. Reportedly proficient in sixth-year and above level Transfiguration (confirmed by Professor McGonagall) and various dueling magic. Neville Longbottom vouches for him, confirming his level far exceeds his own."
Sterling's first thought was: Ah, Transfiguration only for sixth year and above? Seventh years might not even have this technique, right?
His second thought was gratification mixed with helplessness.
"Neville got smart," Terry spoke Sterling's thoughts aloud.
Using himself as a guarantee meant doubts about Sterling would transfer to Neville instead. And continuing down, sure enough: "Second Place: Neville Longbottom (Gryffindor)"
With second place's endorsement, plus Sterling's own reputation, basically no one would question it. After all, those who cared most about this were Gryffindors, yet Gryffindor's first-year number one had already "switched sides."
"But it's actually unnecessary. I don't really care."
Sterling felt he increasingly didn't care about others' opinions lately. Like that demonstration idea just now—he clearly knew that while efficient, he'd basically destroy his reputation afterward.
But it felt like it didn't matter. His friends from Utopia wouldn't change their views of him. Everyone else was irrelevant.
"Sterling, is your second heartbeat getting louder? Did you ask Professor McGonagall?"
"Yeah. Now, after reciting the spell, it persists for about two hours before disappearing. I asked Professor Dumbledore. He said there's no problem and will explain in detail this weekend."
Sterling flipped to the "Sixth Year" section, searching for Robert's name. He quickly found it in third place.
"Third Place: Robert Hilliard (Ravenclaw)"
"In battle with Oliver Wood, I held the upper hand. Proficiently mastered Charms with fairly rich dueling knowledge. Ultimately forced to retreat by the Weasley twins' specially-developed Dungbomb."
"Weasley—"
Sterling heard a demonic whisper. He and Terry stiffly turned. They saw Robert's expression twisted with fury.
Robert grinned maniacally, pulling out his wand. Terry immediately grabbed his arm desperately.
"Prefect Robert! Calm down! This is definitely Gryffindor's conspiracy! Think about it—Professor Dumbledore just gave a speech two nights ago. If you fight Gryffindors now, we're completely out of the House Cup running!"
"Don't stop me! I'm shoving their special Dungbombs down those two redheads' throats!"
"Calm down, prefect! You don't even have any!"
"My alchemy is no worse than theirs!"
"Prefect! You want to make Dungbombs?! Ravenclaw's reputation will be completely destroyed—ahhhhh!"
Sterling watched this scene and couldn't help laughing.