After Headmaster Dumbledore finished introducing himself, Lockhart specially stood up and introduced himself again.
The focus of the introduction was on what achievements he had obtained, how popular he was, and how charming his smile was.
Amanda watched Lockhart, who wore a confident smile at the Staff Table, and felt nothing in her heart.
Everyone has different aesthetics, so she didn't think Lockhart's smile was attractive; on the contrary, she found it ugly.
However, facing a Professor, Amanda also knew these thoughts of hers were absolutely unnecessary; she only needed to listen to the Professor and study hard.
When Lockhart finally ended his narcissistic monologue, applause rang out through the Great Hall.
Many of the little Witches he had charmed were clapping enthusiastically.
Only Ravenclaw House didn't have a single person clapping for him. Earlier, a Muggle-born first-year Young Wizard who didn't know better had wanted to applaud.
The Senior students next to him stopped him and explained the fact that Lockhart was a good-for-nothing, as well as the dismal past he had during his school days.
The Young Wizards who had wanted to applaud instantly gave up the idea. Forget it; they'd better avoid this kind of Professor as much as possible.
As for Amanda… before she could even raise her hands, Senior Cho Chang and Marietta, who had anticipated this, pressed her hands down.
They were afraid that if Amanda applauded now, when she returned to normal later, she would feel sick remembering that she had clapped today.
Seeing that Ravenclaw House, the House he had come from, had not a single person welcoming him,
Lockhart's expression stiffened slightly, but he adjusted immediately, smiled at the Young Wizards who had applauded for him, and returned to his seat at the Staff Table.
The moment his butt touched the chair, Headmaster Dumbledore announced the end of the feast; Professors and students could all leave.
Lockhart, who had just sat down, had to stand up again; to say Headmaster Dumbledore wasn't doing this on purpose… was indeed unlikely.
Amanda stood up expressionlessly and followed Senior Cho Chang and Marietta toward Ravenclaw Tower.
As she walked, she replayed in her mind every face she had just seen in the Great Hall.
Except for the seventh-year Seniors who had graduated, not a single student was missing from the Great Hall.
Why was this so? Amanda's mind stalled; she couldn't deduce the reason.
According to logic, the bottom third in rankings should have been disposed of.
Yet now not a single student had been disposed of. Had something gone wrong with the Enforcement Agents, or… Before Amanda could think of a specific reason, another thought popped up from the depths of her mind.
Hadn't she sensed before that this school was different from her previous school?
So the difference was… that Hogwarts did not dispose of students?
Amanda deduced a result as best she could, but immediately afterward her brain was hit by waves of sharp pain.
This was completely opposite to her fundamental cognition; in her basic understanding, students ranked in the bottom third should be disposed of by the school.
All schools in the world were like this, but she was no longer in her original world.
Another thought burst from the depths of Amanda's mind: schools in the two worlds could indeed be different.
The pain gradually faded. After returning to her Dormitory, Amanda sat at her desk and stopped thinking about the question.
So what if schools in the two worlds were different? So what if this world's school didn't dispose of students?
As a student, her first priority was still to study. Thinking this, Amanda opened her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and earnestly "reviewed" it once more.
Tomorrow would be the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class; she should read the textbook one more time.
Cho Chang and Marietta exchanged glances and shook their heads helplessly.
But in the end they didn't stop Amanda; it was only previewing, and now Amanda would take the initiative to go to bed early, so it should be fine… Thinking this, the two Senior girls, after bathing one after another, dried their hair with Charms and went straight to sleep.
On ordinary days they definitely wouldn't do this; after all, drying hair with Charms still damages it a little.
Girls—who doesn't care about their hair?
But today was different; they were simply too tired, so they just dried it with Charms and went to sleep.
On the other side, Amanda was still earnestly reading Lockhart's book.
Her brain gave a concrete analysis of the stories in it.
Most were credible and could be used for reference, but likewise some parts were purely for book effect and shouldn't be learned.
However, she had complete faith in the spells in the book.
What was written in books couldn't be wrong—this principle stood alongside "the school can't be wrong," "the teacher can't be wrong," and "parents can't be wrong" as the four cardinal rules.
Amanda fully endorsed this and had always acted on it.
Therefore, when trying the magic written in Lockhart's book, she devoted absolute seriousness and effort to every spell.
Sadly, even so, nearly half the magic described in Lockhart's book she couldn't cast; after chanting the incantation, nothing happened.
There wasn't even the slightest fluctuation of magic. As for the other half, the effects achieved were vastly different from—or completely unrelated to—what Lockhart's book described.
Even her current practice was like this. She put away her wand.
Amanda checked the time: seven minutes to twelve, almost her bedtime.
At this thought, she quickly changed out of her Wizard robes, grabbed a change of clothes, and strode into the bathroom.
While washing herself rapidly, Amanda quietly scolded and belittled herself.
"Can't even learn a Charm—utterly stupid."
"It's all written in the book and you still can't do it—must have a pig's brain."
"Why can everyone else do it but not me? Maybe I wasn't born with a human brain like theirs."
She didn't stop talking for the entire five-minute shower.
Her memory held plenty of similar lines; at first, Mom and Dad had used them to scold her.
Later, when they remembered Amanda could memorize these words, they simply stopped scolding her themselves and made her memorize them.
Whenever Amanda "needed" a scolding, they had her recite the lines to herself in front of them.
So now she could do it with effortless skill.
Hermione had said she mustn't punish herself over studying anymore.
But while punishment could be avoided, scolding could not.
By the time she finished bathing, only two minutes remained before twelve. She quickly rubbed her hair a couple of times with a towel.
She flopped onto the bed; the pillow was soaked in an instant, and Amanda plunged straight into deep sleep.
On the other bed, Cho Chang and Marietta, still awake, cautiously slipped out from under their blankets.
After sharing a dorm with Amanda for a year, they knew she could fall asleep in seconds; they'd planned to dry her hair once she finished her shower.
But before they could even get out of bed, Amanda had already lain down and fallen fast asleep.
They couldn't let her sleep with wet hair—she'd have a splitting headache tomorrow—so the two seniors padded barefoot across the room and soundlessly approached her bed.
One lifted her while the other gently towel-dried her hair.
Fortunately, once Amanda was asleep she was in a deep slumber, so Cho and Marietta's ministrations didn't wake her.
After they laid her back down, swapped the damp pillow for a fresh one, and tucked her in, they crept back to their own beds.
An hour later, Amanda's eyes snapped open; her hair and pillow were both dry.
The soaked pillow lay beside her, and she instantly realized Senior Cho and Senior Marietta had dried her hair and changed it.
'Causing trouble for people again,' flitted through her mind.
She closed her eyes and returned to sleep—she needed a full six hours.
At six o'clock sharp, after exactly six hours, Amanda woke up.
She swung out of bed, washed briskly, slung her bag over her shoulder, and left the Dormitory for the Great Hall.
When she arrived, the Hall was the same as last term: far too early for any food to have appeared.
She sat at the Ravenclaw Table and read until breakfast materialized, then closed her book and ate unhurriedly.
Halfway through her meal Hermione walked in, waving with a smile. "Morning, Amanda."
"Morning, Hermione." Amanda swallowed a bite of fried egg, nodded expressionlessly, and returned to her breakfast.
Hermione chuckled, went to the Gryffindor Table, and began her own breakfast.
By the time Amanda finished, Seniors Cho and Marietta finally made a 'late' appearance.
Amanda paused at the doorway and regarded them steadily, her tone flat.
"Thank you, Senior Cho, Senior Marietta, for drying my hair and changing my pillow last night."
Cho and Marietta flushed at the solemn gratitude.
Cho pinched Amanda's cheek, cheeks pink. "No need for thanks—off to class."
"Exactly," Marietta added, feigning composure. "No need to be so polite. Hurry along."
"All right." Amanda nodded and sped toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
The moment she stepped inside, Gilderoy Lockharts assailed her from every wall; the man had hung his own photos in nearly every corner.
Dozens of Lockharts grinned at her, each radiating what he considered irresistible charm.
She stiffly surveyed the room, confirmed the real Professor Lockhart wasn't present, and sat down.
As though nothing were amiss, she opened her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and began to read.
Soon the Little Eagles filed in, settling around her and unconsciously forming her into their quiet center.
Still, the thoughtful eagles left one seat empty beside her—after all, they shared this lesson with the Gryffindors.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron arrived after breakfast.
Seeing Amanda ring-fenced by eagles with a single vacant chair, Hermione knew exactly whom that seat was for.
Miss Granger promptly abandoned her two best friends and slid into the space beside Amanda.
Harry and Ron exchanged wry smiles, shook their heads, and joined the pride of lions.
Class officially began; Lockhart swept out of his adjoining office.
He flung his arms wide and addressed the Young Wizards with theatrical zeal.
"Welcome, welcome to my class! Here you will witness the marvels of magic!"
Scattered applause followed—only a handful of Gryffindor girls clapped.
This time Hermione clamped her hands over Amanda's; brilliant as she was, Amanda must not applaud that charlatan!
Hermione held Amanda's wrists firmly, the thought blazing in her mind.
Faced with lukewarm applause, Lockhart swallowed his embarrassment, boasted a little more, then began distributing a quiz.
"Let's see how well you've studied the textbook."
An exam—an activity at which Amanda was effortlessly adept. She accepted the parchment.
After writing her name she set to work; every question came straight from the book, nothing inventive or beyond the syllabus.
She answered without the slightest difficulty.
Beside her, Hermione's eyebrows knitted so tightly they could have snapped a fly in two.
What in Merlin's name were these questions?
Lockhart's favorite color, his secret ambition, the Christmas gift he most desired—!
For heaven's sake, what did any of this have to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts?
Hermione wanted to hurl her quill aside and leave the parchment blank—or better yet, slap it over Lockhart's smug face.
But seeing Amanda scribbling furiously, Hermione sighed and abandoned the impulse.
She had to fill it in… if Amanda scored full marks while she turned in blank parchment, the mere thought was unbearable.
The same internal battle raged among the surrounding Ravenclaws; once they saw Amanda writing, they reluctantly began.
On the Gryffindor side, apart from a handful of Lockhart devotees, the Little Lions groaned the moment they read the questions.
They tossed down their quills, folded their arms, and refused even to glance at the man at the front.
They simply waited for him to collect the papers; after all, they were up against the eagles.
They couldn't outscore them at the best of times, and with this ridiculous quiz, writing anything felt like a waste.
When Lockhart called time ten minutes later, he was met with a good half of the class presenting pristine, untouched parchments.
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