In the Great Hall, Dumbledore stood to deliver the year-end summary:
"What a spectacular year it's been. To wrap things up, let's announce the House Cup standings. The scores are as follows:
"Fourth place, Gryffindor, with 255 points."
"Third place, Hufflepuff, with 358 points."
"Second place, Ravenclaw, with 410 points."
"And in first place, Slytherin, with 415 points."
The Slytherin table erupted in thunderous applause and cheers at Dumbledore's words.
The little snakes pounded the table, hoisting goblets high, celebrating their victory and their seventh straight House Cup win!
This one had been a close call—Ravenclaw was only five points behind. A few extra points here or there, and they could've overtaken.
But Slytherin held onto the glory!
"Slytherin's done an excellent job," Dumbledore said with a nod before continuing, "However, a few recent events need to be factored in."
That line brought Slytherin's celebration to a screeching halt, a bad feeling creeping into their hearts.
"I'm sure you've all heard about what happened a few days ago. Some students showed extraordinary courage and wit during those events."
"So, we've got a few more points to award. Let me see…"
Tension flickered in the Slytherins' eyes, while a handful of sharp minds from other houses seemed to catch on, sneaking glances at the Gryffindor table.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "First up, Mr. Ron Weasley…"
"He won the most spectacular chess match Hogwarts has seen in years. For that, I award Gryffindor House fifty points!"
Ron's face turned as red as his hair—no, redder, like a ripe carrot.
The Gryffindor table exploded, their cheers nearly shaking the enchanted ceiling.
"Ron's my brother, my youngest brother! He got through McGonagall's chessboard!" Percy boasted to the other prefects, bursting with pride for his little bro.
As the noise settled a bit, Dumbledore's voice rang out again:
"Second, Miss Hermione Granger…"
"She faced raging flames with cool-headed logic. I award Gryffindor House another fifty points!"
Hermione buried her face in her arms, clearly not used to such loud praise.
The little lions went wild, some nearly climbing onto the table, wands waving like they were about to put on an impromptu show.
That's a hundred points total!
"And third—"
"Harry Potter!"
"He showed fearless bravery and courage. For this, I award Gryffindor House sixty points!"
The moment Dumbledore finished, Gryffindor's uproar was deafening.
A hundred and sixty points added!
"We're tied! Tied!" a Gryffindor shouted.
The other lions caught on quick—255 plus 160 put them neck and neck with Slytherin's 415!
Just one more point!
That was the thought racing through every Gryffindor's mind. One measly point, and they'd snag the House Cup!
Dumbledore raised a hand, signaling for quiet.
By now, many Slytherins' faces had darkened. A whole year's effort, all that lead, wiped out just like that?
But this was the Hogwarts Headmaster's call—Dumbledore's decision. Not a single snake dared challenge it.
Still, losing to those reckless Gryffindor lions? That was the worst pill to swallow.
If Ravenclaw had won, or even Hufflepuff, it'd be easier to stomach…
"Courage comes in many forms. It takes bravery to face an enemy, but standing firm with friends takes courage too!"
"So, for Mr. Neville Longbottom, I award ten points!"
At that, Gryffindor's cheers hit a fever pitch.
Neville, clutching his goblet, looked stunned, barely processing as his housemates swarmed him with praise and cheers, leaving him flustered.
Harry clapped and cheered for Neville too, but he wasn't as hyped as the others. His eyes drifted to the Ravenclaw table, catching Lucien's gentle smile and soft applause.
Then Harry glanced at the staff table, sensing there was more to come. Dumbledore met his look with a smile.
"And finally…"
Dumbledore drew out the word, making everyone's hearts skip a beat.
There's more?
"One young wizard used his wit and magic to outmaneuver a dark wizard, protecting the school's treasure and aiding his classmates' growth—an extraordinary feat. For this, I award him one hundred points!"
The Great Hall fell dead silent.
A hundred points? Who got that?
Whichever house snagged those points would lock in the House Cup, no question!
Dumbledore turned to the Ravenclaw table, his eyes warm with pride.
"I congratulate Lucien Grafton for earning Ravenclaw one hundred points!"
Clap, clap, clap—
The first applause came from the Gryffindor table—Harry's.
He was genuinely thrilled. As someone who'd been there, he knew how incredible Lucien's performance was that night. As the first student to get extra lessons from Lucien, he knew just how much help he'd gotten.
The staff table joined in next.
Every professor who'd taught Lucien knew his talent and hard work. This year alone, they'd seen too many surprises from him.
Even Snape, usually stone-faced, cracked a rare smile, his eyes glinting with approval. He often wished Lucien had been sorted into Slytherin—what a shame he wasn't.
If Lucien were a Slytherin, Snape could've piled on points for his house without anyone crying favoritism. Forget six straight wins—the House Cup would've been Slytherin's for all of Lucien's years at Hogwarts!
But the happiest of all was Professor Flitwick, his small hands clapping so hard he didn't even bother wiping the tears from his eyes.
Ravenclaw rarely won the House Cup. Quidditch alone put them at a disadvantage for points, and with the smallest house size, they had fewer chances to earn them day-to-day.
Luckily, Ravenclaws also got into the least trouble, so deductions were minimal, usually landing them in second or third.
But this year, with Lucien, Ravenclaw's score had climbed steadily, and now they'd clinched the top spot!
"Filius, just like at the start of term, I've got to congratulate you again. Ravenclaw's lucky to have a student like Lucien," Professor McGonagall said, raising her goblet.
Flitwick quickly clinked his against hers. "Thank you, Minerva. Ravenclaw's truly fortunate to have him."