Though William was already dizzy from the diadem, it was still big news among the students.
The top students of each year naturally beca the victims of the diadem incident. Just as everyone focused on top Go players after AlphaGo appeared, the debate over whether the diadem or the top students would achieve better results naturally beca a hot topic.
'It's just being first in the year. Once I get the diadem, won't you have to give up your spot?'
Such remarks spread like wildfire among the students—after all, the diadem had only appeared in legends before, but today it had truly materialized.
Unfortunately, Miss Hermione Granger beca the most entangled in this uproar—after all, she was Muggle-born, had excellent grades, was the Savior's friend, and her personality wasn't particularly likable.
Even with professors protecting such a student, campus bullying was very likely, not to ntion Hogwarts had a Head of House who openly discriminated.
Naturally, this Muggle-born top student heard a lot of remarks about herself while in the bathroom, and they were quite unfriendly.
—
"Ha, I wonder what that Granger will do now. Top of the year—can she really compare to Ravenclaw's diadem?"
"Exactly, look at her, all day she practically sticks herself to the professors' faces, 'Professor, I know this!' 'Professor, I've reviewed this!'"
The girl speaking had a talent for mimicry; she imitated Hermione's voice vividly, making the circle of girls around her burst into laughter.
"So, what's the use? How can Muggle intelligence compare to inherited magic? A diadem isn't going to completely suppress that annoying Granger. Can she really compare her intelligence to Ravenclaw's?"
This topic was not easy to follow up on; aside from Slytherin, very few dared to openly support blood purity theories within the school.
Seizing this opportunity, Hermione quickly erged from the stall, continuing to walk past the chattering girls with her arrogant expression, leaving the gossip and those people behind.
But unlike the usual gossip, this discussion truly made her a little worried—even with all her confidence, she wouldn't dare compare herself to the legendary Ravenclaw.
—
"Miss Granger?"
Professor McGonagall's voice, even with so of its sternness tempered, was still incredibly imposing, making the noisy students around her dare not speak casually.
At the sa ti, this voice startled Hermione from her daze. She looked in surprise at the beetle on her desk; the insect, which should have transford into a very beautiful button, was now horribly dead—it had been poked to death by a wand.
'They're laughing at again!'
This thought surfaced in Hermione's mind. She frantically tapped the beetle with her wand again, and this ti the beetle successfully turned into a button.
"Miss Granger, we are reviewing living transfiguration. First-year students can already turn dead objects into buttons."
Professor McGonagall spoke softly, but to Hermione's ears, it was like a heavy hamr blow.
"Alright, quiet!"
The professor raised her voice slightly, then gave her another beetle.
—
"Miss Granger, please stay for a mont."
After Hermione herself didn't even know how the class ended, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out from the podium.
"You two go ahead, don't wait for ."
She quickly instructed her two friends.
She had encountered a big problem in class and was being reprimanded by the professor after class—she simply didn't have the courage to let her friends hear those reprimanding words.
Fortunately, the two boys hadn't noticed anything amiss; they had been easily fooled by a small excuse during class and were now foolishly discussing Quidditch.
"Miss Granger, you are not in very good form today."
Professor McGonagall's words were direct, causing Hermione to lower her head—it was her first ti being criticized by a professor for her academic performance.
"Is it because of the diadem?"
To Hermione's surprise, the professor spoke her biggest worry in one sentence.
"Go find Professor William, tell him I sent you."
Without any words of criticism, Professor McGonagall said this to her out of the blue.
—
'Calm down, what are you thinking?'
Hermione quickly shook her head, trying to shake off all the ssy things that had happened that day.
'As long as I pass the exam, I'll have a chance to see the diadem!'
She silently encouraged herself, striving to expel all the influence brought by that accursed diadem from her mind.
She knew a few Ravenclaw students—compared to Gryffindor, academically excellent students were more popular in Ravenclaw.
She had heard from older Ravenclaw students about Professor William's promise that the top OWLs student would get a chance to use the diadem, but that was too far off for her. Now, however, it was different; Professor McGonagall's recomndation had given her an assessnt opportunity.
'Be serious, this opportunity might have been specially sought out for you by Professor McGonagall, otherwise, why wouldn't it be given to other students!'
She scanned the questions with an attitude even more serious than for her final exams.
'Hmm, this is easy.'
'This one, interesting.'
'This one, they can even ask questions like this?'
...
As she worked, Hermione, who had initially been at ease, slowed down. The scratching sound of her quill beca intermittent, as if it were running out of ink.
—
'Is a second-year's foundation really this solid?'
William, who had been flipping through Transfiguration texts, stopped being in the zone when the accompanying sound paused. He glanced at the test paper from afar and was greatly surprised—among the three years he was responsible for, perhaps only Percy could achieve this level on a second-year exam.
'She can't be that good, can she? Percy is at the level of twelve certifications! Only a few students have achieved that score over the years. If nothing goes wrong, this child will probably get at least ten certifications!'
However, with Percy as a shining example, William wasn't too surprised. The top of the year always surpassed ordinary people by a significant margin.
'But what does it matter? This paper is specifically designed to test the top students—isn't Nancy at the top student level too? She'll still cry.'
William silently gave himself a thumbs up—Hogwarts always had top students, but true academic gods were rare. When he set the questions, the difficulty level was based on the record Dumbledore set back in the day. Let alone this child in front of him, even if Percy, a sixth-year, took the exam, William was confident he could make him barely pass on his first try.
—
'This question,' Hermione was stuck halfway through the paper and froze—the newly renad Defense Against the Dark Arts class was originally her weakness, and this year Professor Lockhart had changed the textbook. Even with her diligent self-study, she was now stuck on a tricky question.
'Don't panic, calm down, calm down, skip it, next question,' she recalled the so-called secret tips for dealing with difficult exam questions that she had never used before.
As it turned out, the next question was even harder.
'The one after that!'
She encouraged herself, then was stumped by a question that was completely beyond the syllabus—even with a professor teaching diligently, this question couldn't be easily answered.
'This question... I still don't know...'
Although theoretically she should look at the next question, her vision was already blurry.
"What's the use—once she puts on the diadem, won't she have to obediently fall to second place?"
That girl's voice repeatedly echoed in her ears, and combined with the utterly unmanageable question in front of her, it began to assault her tear ducts.
—
"Plop."
A sudden sound broke the long silence, rousing William from his contemplation, where he had been stumped by a magic demonstration for a long ti.
"Drip, drip, drip."
The sound of water drops falling on the parchnt rged because they were fast enough, making William look up in surprise at the girl doing the test beside him—it couldn't be, could it? Fifth-year students only get red eyes, a second-year shouldn't react so strongly, right?
You didn't cry last ti on the train, and you were quite spirited even when controlled by magic and couldn't speak, with a look that wanted to curse people. What's going on today?
"Wuwu..."
The distinct sound of crying startled William. He quickly stood up, losing his initial unhurried deanor.
"Don't cry, don't cry..." he lowered his voice, "Tell what's wrong, tell what's wrong. If the test is hard, just study harder. I'm telling you, most fifth-year students fail this when they first try it—they're fifth-years and they're like that, so it's okay if you can't do it, no need to be like this."
William decisively sold out his students—people are comparative. Hearing that others are also unlucky makes one's own misfortune less painful.
'No, you seed pretty strong last ti,' William began to reflect, 'I should have given her the first-year exam. The second-year one does seem a bit too difficult.'
He had plenty of tricks for disobedient students, but for soone who cried at the slightest provocation, he truly had no good solution at the mont—students above fifth year were too concerned with their image to cry like this. This was his first ti dealing with such a situation.
'Why did I study engineering at university? If I had known I'd be a teacher, I should have gone to a normal school. The student ratio would be more balanced!'
He complained to himself, then rummaged through his box for a new, unopened towel—the school had given out many.
"Wipe it off, girl. Crying is useless, it won't help you do the test, will it? I've roughly looked at it, and you've already passed. You should know that most fifth-year students fail these questions—"
"I'm the top of the year!"
Perhaps that comparison stung a nerve, as the crying girl finally was willing to communicate with William.
'Crying like this, no matter how many 'firsts' you have, you've lost all face. Fifth-years are so well-behaved, they console themselves.'
But these words obviously couldn't be said directly—now that she had finally cald down a bit, William still wanted to protect his eardrums.
"Wipe away your tears. Passing this paper is already very good." William waved his wand again, conjuring a hot chocolate—no matter what others said, he thought it was most effective when one was feeling down.
'Professor McGonagall, honestly—this child is so upset, and she still sends her here to curb her temper? Is she trying to cause trouble?'
William refused to admit that his test paper could make soone cry like this. He began to ponder why Professor McGonagall had sent the child over—it certainly didn't look like she was ant to take an exam.
"Tell about it. Although I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, I have many other preparatory projects. What happened today, why are you so upset?"
William showed a kind smile—at Azkaban, he often used this smile to quell disputes, though the stories he told afterwards were not needed now.
"Nothing, Professor."
"Not getting along well with other students?"
William made a guess—the top student either got along exceptionally well with others or exceptionally poorly, very extre. Leaning towards this usually wasn't a problem.
"No."
This answer clearly showed she was feeling guilty.
"Look forward, little girl, at least you have two good friends, don't you?"
As William said this, he felt a little heartache himself—'So good that if I say a few words, they'll hate too.'
"Genius is always a bit lonely, and talented students are probably like that too. Don't be too petty. Either learn to get along or ignore it. You're the top of the year, so there won't be campus bullying, at most isolation, but you have two good friends, don't you?"
Her expression didn't change much—it seed this wasn't it.
"Having trouble with your studies? Don't be too ambitious. It's already amazing to learn so new knowledge ahead of ti. Don't put too much burden on yourself. There's a reason the school is divided into seven academic years. You can't expect to learn seven years' worth of material in your second year. Dumbledore studied for seven years. Are you thinking of graduating earlier than the Headmaster?"
William wiggled his finger, "Don't even think about it, child, unless we get a new Headmaster, like McGonagall—cough,"
William quickly corrected himself—joking about Professor McGonagall kicking Dumbledore out was fine with professors, but with students, it was too irrational. He still had a verbal agreent for a raise, and if he lost it, it would be gone for good.
"Anyway, early graduation is impossible. Don't think about mastering seven years of material in your second year. You should know that so professors in the castle haven't even properly mastered certain courses, like —I'm practically an idiot at Divination."
William was rciless in self-deprecation—as far as he knew, most professors in the castle weren't good at Divination, including the Divination professor herself.
He had no pressure about not being good at it; admitting it publicly wasn't embarrassing.
This successfully comforted the crying student—a professor daring to reveal their own embarrassing monts was a great comfort to any student.
'She's smiling, so it's fine. Comforting children is really tiring.'
"Alright, take a good look at the paper once more, see where you made mistakes. You'll have to take it again in higher years, so you can't take it with you. But I congratulate you, you've passed."
William uncharacteristically gave her encouragent.
"Passed? Professor? So I can see the diadem now?"
The word "passed" brought a string of rapid-fire questions.
'You should have said so earlier! If you want to see the diadem, just see it. It's Dumbledore's problem. Do I have to spend half the day coaxing a child?'
William's prepared speech got stuck—he quickly thought of the diadem's influence on top students.
'Professor McGonagall, too, just tell to agree if she wants to agree, beating around the bush. Is this to convey that the school hasn't swallowed the diadem?'
"Go to the Headmaster's office, Miss Granger. Because of Professor McGonagall's recomndation, your special exam has passed. Whether you can touch it depends on Headmaster Dumbledore's discretion."
William very easily said the most comforting words at that mont—'Here's the problem child, Headmaster, I'm done with her!'
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