Every Ravenclaw Is the Hero of Their Own Story

The closer you got to the Ministry of Magic, the crazier people became...

After leaving the gathering, Andrew suddenly found that thought running through his head.

But when he tried to laugh it off, he realized there was some truth to it.

Even the Minister of Magic proved the point. If the minister had been in his right mind, how could he have thought picking a fight with Dumbledore was a good idea?

I won't be able to get away anytime soon... unless they decide I'm not good enough and cut me loose.

He didn't even need to ask how this school club had formed. Ravenclaws who entered the Ministry of Magic had begun banding together, then, hungry for fresh blood, dropped hints when they met students interning there. Upper-year students who already had plans for their futures had naturally gathered around the information on offer.

The rest was simple. Once the upper-year students had banded together, they began recruiting younger students. To expand their influence, they opened the club to all of Ravenclaw. Calls for Ravenclaws to stick together at the Ministry gave it cohesion, and it was passed down from one generation to the next.

In short, Ravenclaws at the Ministry had built the school club, while each wave of club members who joined the Ministry strengthened the group there. Even the Minister of Magic might not be able to break those ties. It was a network of mutual interests more solid than Slytherin's.

Fortunately, there weren't many of them, and they were hardly aggressive. One meeting was enough for Andrew to see that even the club itself was a mess.

I'll just show up on time. No enthusiasm, no objections.

Andrew had no intention of stirring up that cesspit. If he actually voiced criticism, it wouldn't solve anything. These students would simply deal with the person who raised the problem.

There really isn't anyone outrageously stupid in Ravenclaw. What's worse is that no one will fully defer to anyone else. Everyone wants to do things their own way...

But that's why the clubs here are so stubborn. The people leading them all share an idea they're determined to uphold...

Andrew shook his head and began looking for an empty classroom. He needed plenty of Transfiguration practice to refine his technique, then use those experiments to improve the thesis he had to hand in to Professor McGonagall.

"We'll get to see Harry Potter tonight. That's no small thing—Astronomy is the only class we first-years share with Gryffindor."

At dinner, after a busy afternoon, Andrew could finally lean back in his chair and relax. Then his roommate Hal brought up the subject.

It quickly caught everyone's attention.

"True, though I heard Potter's grades aren't much to speak of."

"Sounds like it. I heard that Potions Professor took two points off him. He's clearly planning to make Potter his target this year."

"There's a Gryffindor like that every year. This one's just a little more unusual. But have you heard? Gryffindor has someone impressive this year."

"Oh, Miss Granger? I heard about her at a professor's office today. Every teacher who's had her in class can't stop praising her."

"Yes, I heard that too. She rushed to the Library on the first day of term and checked out a load of books. So far, she's ahead in every subject."

"That's impressive... We can't be sure yet, but if she hasn't slipped up by Friday, she'll probably have the top spot in the year sewn up."

"Seriously?" A second-year nearby joined the conversation. "Are you lot going to lose us first place again?"

"Hard to say, but that's how it looks right now."

Hal helped himself to a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes. "At least I haven't seen anyone who can outdo Miss Granger."

"Fair enough..."

The second-year shook his head. "I'm used to it... We always seem to lose first place."

Though everyone had braced themselves, plenty of new students still wanted to get a look at Miss Granger. They wanted to see Harry and his friends too, but the prospect of meeting the likely top student in their year held just as much appeal for Ravenclaw.

Once they reached the Astronomy Tower, though, they gave up on that idea.

The late-summer breeze was pleasant, but there was one thing most of them hadn't considered before arriving.

To give everyone a better view of the sky, there were almost no lights near the tower. Even Professor Aurora Sinistra used Lumos only to show them where she stood. Once she had confirmed everyone was there, she put out the light.

In short, they could barely make out the outlines of anyone nearby. A little farther away, it was hard even to tell boys from girls.

In fact, the only thing in the whole area that could be called a light source was a dimly glowing Astronomy instrument that simulated the movement of the stars...

All evening, Professor Aurora Sinistra taught them about stars, planets, and constellations, directing the students as they observed the sky through Telescopes.

The class was remarkably peaceful. There wasn't a single argument, even between Gryffindor and Slytherin. They couldn't see each other well enough.

Andrew still doubted Astronomy had anything to do with magic, but he managed to learn the stars all over again and commit them to memory.

When the class ended, the Astronomy professor hadn't awarded any house points, and the students hadn't managed to see Harry Potter. Even so, they quickly voted her one of their favorite professors.

The reason was simple: the class had almost no homework!

After class, the Ravenclaw students returned to their common room ahead of the other houses for once and launched into eager gossip—especially those who had stood near the Gryffindors.

But they reached no conclusions. There had been no chance for anyone to stand out in that class; they'd barely been able to see their own classmates.

The older students cheerfully added that Astronomy didn't take attendance. If you could memorize the star charts without the professor's help, you could even ace the exams, OWLs included.

"How does the Wizarding world have a class with so little magic in it...?"

Andrew had expected the older students to reveal some exam trick. Instead, that was his reaction to their advice. In theory, unless a Wizard pulled off a spectacular feat and knocked a star out of the sky, there wasn't much in this subject that could change.

Maybe I should ask Dum—ah, a Gryffindor to cast a spell and knock down a star... I could write a few more stories, make enough to buy an Orrery, and have star charts to study every day. Then high marks would be practically guaranteed.

Andrew felt the tiniest pang of guilt, but it soon faded.