The truth is...
Hard work doesn't always equal good results. They aren't always a positive correlation, you see.
If you're putting in the effort, but pointing your wand in the wrong direction, you might just work harder and fail bigger.
Take, for example, the Muggle practice of 'stock trading.' More often than not, the more effort a 'muggle' puts in, the more times he gets fleeced.
Some people never stop paying tuition.
Ron, who had just coughed up a significant amount of 'tuition' in Snape's Potions class, was having a bit of an existential crisis.
He was still in a daze even as the class ended and he headed down to the Great Hall for dinner.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't our little Ronnie!"
"I wonder how many House Points you earned in Professor Snape's dungeon today?"
The twins spotted Ron looking utterly defeated and immediately perked up. They flanked him, one on each side, adopting their best air of serious concern.
"Surely you weren't docked any points, were you?"
"Though we wouldn't be surprised, honestly."
"Get off! Scram!"
Ron irritably shrugged his shoulders, shaking off their hands. He then moodily grabbed a chicken leg and went at it with both hands.
"I tried so hard, though..." Ron mumbled indistinctly to himself, barely audible. "It's definitely Snape. It has to be him. He just can't stand Gryffindor, and he certainly can't stand me. The Wand-Lighting Charm... I know how to do that without even trying. What's so difficult about it?"
This temporary setback didn't crush Ron. Now that he'd ruled out 'laziness,' he was determined to be more persistent in all aspects—including working hard to become the kind of outstanding student professors would praise and admire.
Unlike Ron, the other three boys who had received the strange 'graduation certificate' didn't focus on performing for the professors. Instead, once they corrected their bad habits, their academic lives truly took a turn for the better.
Seamus, no longer careless, stopped causing accidental explosions in class. Dean was always focused on his studies and turned in his homework diligently. His grades were clearly on the rise.
But the one who changed the most was definitely Neville.
The formerly bumbling, forgetful little chap had been like a brand-new student since that day. Neville no longer misplaced everything or instantly forgot what he'd heard a moment ago. Neville's parents were outstanding Aurors for the Ministry, and while the Longbottom family wasn't obsessed with blood purity, the excellent magical lineage was certainly inherited by Neville.
After all, in the original timeline, Neville picked up the banner of Dumbledore's Army after the main group left Hogwarts, fighting the Death Eaters right here in the castle.
He fixed the glitches in the Room of Requirement, reopening it as the new headquarters for Dumbledore's Army. His ultimate high-point was drawing the Sword of Gryffindor and slicing off Nagini's head, but his most truly admirable act was bravely stepping forward to resist evil as he grew up.
True courage means standing up when you know the path ahead is difficult, and even when you know you might be fighting a losing battle.
Right now, Neville had a clear and firm goal in his heart: He wanted to become someone his parents could be proud of. He wanted to learn more spells and more knowledge, hoping that in the future, he could pull his mother and father out of the shadows.
He was a boy, yes, but he had already taken several steps ahead of his peers, walking resolutely toward becoming a responsible man.
His extremely high potential in Herbology, previously masked and unseen, was now obvious to everyone. Even in Charms and Transfiguration, Neville was performing quite well. He used to only be able to turn Potions into an awful sludge, but now, when Snape walked past him, he didn't even stop to dock points—the most practical praise for his current improvement.
In the cold month of November, someone had lit a small torch for Gryffindor, adding a few more crimson rubies to the House hourglass.
And just as this was happening, after ten weeks of intense training, the Quidditch season was finally upon them! The biting cold wind couldn't dampen the enthusiasm of the young witches and wizards. As the match drew nearer, people in the Great Hall and the Common Room alike were buzzing about the first game of the season: Gryffindor versus Slytherin!
This was the rivalry of all rivalries. The two sworn enemy Houses always went head-to-head, both in class and on the pitch. The Slytherins, famous for their underhanded tactics, always played the dirtiest against Gryffindor.
Sneaking up on people and hexing them in the hallway, slipping a Puking Pastille into a drink, or picking fights in the corridor—these things happened every year.
But this year, the Slytherins had changed their tune a little. Snape had finally done his duty as a normal professor and strictly banned such low-down behavior. This unexpected act of goodwill earned cheers from the students of the other Houses, and Snape's reputation actually improved during this period. On top of that, Professor Quirrell was due back to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in December, and the students who had genuinely learned a lot from Snape were a bit sad to see him go.
"Don't be nervous, Harrie! You're the pride of Gryffindor!"
The night before the match, Wood was pumping up Harrie in the Common Room. "Just play like you do in practice, and we'll absolutely win this opening Quidditch match!"
"I'm not nervous, Wood, except that it's a bit chilly," Harrie said, looking slightly embarrassed. Wood was getting a bit too worked up. "If you keep shouting like that... it'll put pressure on me. Everyone's looking."
"Oh... am I?" Wood awkwardly scratched his head. "Haha... maybe I'm a bit excited."
"We'll be cheering you on!"
The students in the Common Room yelled to Wood. "Go smash those Slytherin blighters! Don't let them score a single point!"
Amid the cheers and encouragement, Harrie tugged on Lynn, who was curled up in an armchair reading. "I'm suddenly getting nervous. If I mess up tomorrow, will I become a Gryffindor villain?"
"You don't need to worry about that," Lynn closed his book and turned to Harrie. "Everyone has a lot of forgiveness and leniency for you. No one will blame you if we lose."
"Oh, I see. Because good-looking people are always more easily forgiven, right?"
Harrie used Lynn's previous excuse against him. "And I guess I am quite good-looking."
"You should thank your mother for that. If you looked like your dad, you'd be in serious trouble."
Harrie stuck out her tongue. "I guess my dad wasn't very popular? Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hated him, and it looks like Professor Snape does too. But I don't know what terrible thing he did. I asked Hagrid, but he only said, 'James liked playing tricks on people.' I don't know anything else."
"Do you want to know?"
"A little, yes. I'm really curious."
Harrie nodded, looking at Lynn expectantly, but he just stared at her, looking deep and mysterious, and refused to say another word.
"Lynn!"
"Hm?"
"Please, please, please~"
"No whining, no whining! I can't handle that!" Lynn put a hand on Harrie's forehead to quell her mischief. "Give me a few days. I'll research a good way to show you."
"Alright~ But what book were you reading?"
"The newly revised 1990 Quidditch rule book. I'm the commentator tomorrow. Surprised?"
"Heh heh, I knew you were the best, Lynn!"
Harrie, suddenly feeling reassured, patted her chest. "I'm definitely going to win tomorrow!"