It wasn't until Richie climbed out of his trunk study that he heard from Terry how the news of his personal exam had completely leaked.
Richie could only throw his hands up in resignation.
He was starting to realize that professors in the wizarding world were all cut from the exact same cloth. Beauxbatons had hung his picture in their Star-Wand Dueling Hall to motivate their students. Now, Hogwarts had plastered his perfect exam on the common room notice boards to do the exact same thing.
Seriously... is there another magical school out there waiting to use me?
It felt like the entire academic system was conspiring to put him on a pedestal.
"I'll admit it," Richie muttered. "Being too exceptional is a burden."
While the sudden fame was annoying, it didn't actually disrupt Richie's life. Between his daytime classes, nighttime sessions at the Starlight Sanctum, and hiding away in his trunk study or the library, he was essentially unreachable.
He stuck to his meticulously planned study schedule without missing a beat.
Terry and Anthony, however, took the brunt of the fallout.
Younger students constantly bombarded Terry for stories about Richie's exploits, while older girls kept cornering Anthony, hoping he could set up an introduction. By default, the two of them became Richie's unofficial PR team, hyping him up while simultaneously running interference.
Stephen was the only one who matched Richie's wavelength. If he wasn't haunting the common room bookshelves, he was completely off the grid in the library.
Before they knew it, two weeks had vanished, and the Hogwarts Easter holidays arrived.
Compared to the rest of the school year, the students absolutely despised the Easter break. Sure, they got two weeks off from classes, but the professors compensated by dumping an ungodly amount of homework on them. With the students stuck at the castle, their supposedly "free time" was entirely consumed by agonizingly dull essays.
In the Great Hall, young wizards were scattered across the tables, either aggressively scribbling on parchment or quietly practicing spellwork.
"This is officially the worst holiday ever," Ron groaned, spinning his wand in one hand while expertly shuffling a stack of cards on the table with the other. "Easter is supposed to be about resurrection, but I'm literally drowning in homework." He flipped a card over. "Great. Another Dumbledore."
Sitting next to him, Harry shook his head. "Ron, why do you keep spending the money Fred and George gave you on Chocolate Frogs? You don't even eat the chocolate! I feel like my teeth are going to jump out of my head just looking at them."
Ron let out a heavy, resentful sigh. "You think I want to do this? I earned that money with my own sweat and blood! But I've bought five hundred of these stupid cards and I still don't have a complete set. Where the hell are Agrippa and Ptolemy?!"
Harry stared at Ron's miserable expression, genuinely baffled. They're just cards. Is it really worth obsessing over?
Just then, a commotion erupted at the Great Hall entrance.
"Whoa! Hey!"
Neville hopped through the heavy oak doors, his legs completely glued together.
"Richie! Richie!" Neville frantically bounced down the aisle. "Help me!"
"Hahaha!" The surrounding students immediately burst into laughter.
"Is that the Leg-Locker Curse?" Ron asked, surprised. "What happened to him?"
Harry's brow furrowed. "It has to be Malfoy."
Over the past few days, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had made a habit of cornering isolated Muggle-borns and half-bloods in the corridors. Whenever someone complained to a professor, Snape inevitably stepped in to shield the Slytherins, guaranteeing they walked away completely unpunished.
Because of that, Draco's reputation among the lower years had quickly tanked to Peeves-level notoriety.
Hearing Neville calling his name, Richie looked up and immediately saw the boy's awkward predicament. He drew his wand without hesitation.
"Finite Incantatem!"
A flash of white light struck Neville, and his legs instantly snapped apart.
"Thanks—whoa!" Because he had been locked together for so long, Neville couldn't immediately regain his balance and started toppling sideways.
Luckily, Seamus was already right beside him. He grabbed Neville's arm, catching him before he could publicly embarrass himself any further.
"Honestly, Neville, you should have fought back!" Seamus said, helping him into a seat at the Gryffindor table.
"I did fight back!" Neville said, his face flushing with excitement. "I hit him with the Disarming Charm Richie taught us!"
Richie had accidentally let it slip that he knew offensive magic. After that, Neville had spent days awkwardly but persistently begging him to teach them how to fight.
It wasn't that Richie was unwilling to teach them; he just figured they could wait. The professors would eventually cover combat magic in the upper years, so there was no need to rush. But Neville had practically pleaded with him, insisting he couldn't wait that long. He desperately wanted the ability to protect himself and others, just like Richie.
When someone lays it out like that, what can you really say?
Richie caved and agreed to teach him the Disarming Charm during their free time. And since teaching one person was the same amount of effort as teaching a group, he simply turned it into an "open class" at the Starlight Sanctum.
Hearing Neville's success, Seamus's eyes went wide with envy. "Man, I haven't mastered that one yet. Honestly, I'm still barely scraping by with the Silencing Charm..."
Seeing Neville return to normal, the rest of the Great Hall quickly lost interest and went back to their own business.
But a second later, a figure sprinted frantically into the hall, making a beeline straight for Harry and Ron.
"Hurry! I just saw Hagrid!" Hermione panted, leaning heavily on the table. "He checked a book out of the library and he's definitely heading back to his hut right now. We have to go after him!"
"Checked out a book? What does Hagrid need a book from the library for?" Ron blinked, totally missing the point.
"That's not the point!"
Harry was already on his feet. The second Hermione gave the word, he bolted for the doors.
"Hey! Wait up!" Seeing Harry take off, Ron panicked, abandoning his precious Chocolate Frog cards and scrambling after him.
Hermione watched the two boys disappear out the doors. Once she finally caught her breath, she didn't immediately follow them. Instead, she marched straight over to the Ravenclaw table and stood next to Richie.
"Richie. Come with me right now," she whispered urgently, leaning in close. "We're about to—no, we already have our next clue about Snape!"
Richie stared at her, completely lost.
Snape? What did he do this time? Oh, right. The trio was still fully convinced Snape was plotting to steal the Sorcerer's Stone from the third-floor corridor. And now they apparently had a lead.
"Do I really need to go?" Richie scratched his head, looking longingly at the massive textbook open in front of him.
"Richie, we cannot afford to be separated right now. We can't let Snape pick us off one by one!" Hermione said, her expression dead serious. "Ever since the troll incident, Snape has viewed the four of us as his biggest obstacles!"
How exactly do you know what Snape thinks of us...? Richie mentally facepalmed, but seeing Hermione's genuine, desperate earnestness, he kept the sarcastic comment to himself.
Noticing the growing number of curious stares from the surrounding students, Richie finally sighed and nodded. "Alright, fine. I'm coming."
After quickly asking Terry to take his books back to the dorm, Richie followed Hermione out of the Great Hall.
"Hey... did those two look like they were walking out to a duel or something?" Terry muttered, watching them leave. "Granger has threatened to challenge Richie more than once..."
"Granger wouldn't stand a chance. Don't forget Richie has the Star-Wand Dueling Medal," Stephen adjusted his glasses, completely serious.
"Heh. I highly doubt that's what's going on." Anthony wagged his index finger sagely. "They are definitely not going to duel."
"Then what are they doing?" Terry asked, confused.
"You're just a kid. You wouldn't understand. When you're older, it'll all make sense." Anthony gave a deeply condescending, knowing smirk and shook his head dramatically.
Watching Anthony act like a smug, insufferable know-it-all, Terry silently balled his hands into fists.
"I'll show you who's a kid!"
Smack!