When Amanda answered, Cho Chang and the other two girls were startled for a second, then Penelope smiled and reached out to pinch her cheek.
"Then let me thank you in advance. Don't worry, we won't let you teach for nothing."
Amanda blinked mechanically, not quite understanding what Senior Penelopa meant.
Within one's own ability, offering help to others—even helping them study—wasn't that the most basic thing?
What did she mean by not letting her teach for nothing?
Evidently, though, neither Penelope, Cho Chang, nor Marietta had any intention of explaining.
As soon as lunch ended, Cho and Marietta pulled Amanda back to the Dormitory to rest, while Penelope stood up and went straight to find their Dean, Professor Flitwick.
Setting up a self-study group would need a Professor's approval and assistance.
"Professor Flitwick, sorry to disturb you—may I speak with you about something?"
Penelope greeted him politely; Professor Flitwick smiled and nodded.
"Of course, Miss Penelope."
They stepped into a quiet corner, and Penelope glanced around to make sure Lockhart wasn't nearby before she began.
"The thing is, Professor Flitwick… you know how Professor Lockhart—" Remembering that Lockhart was still a Professor, Penelope stopped herself from calling him a good-for-nothing to Flitwick's face.
"He hasn't much ability," she said. She swore she'd phrased it as tactfully as possible.
But there was simply no polite way to dress up that fact.
Lockhart was, after all, a total fraud—how could anyone sugar-coat that?
Flitwick didn't look angry at all. "Yes, we are quite aware."
He sighed and nodded. "But we have no choice. For reasons everyone knows, it's already very hard to find anyone willing to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. He was the only applicant who came forward."
Penelope gave a wry smile; the situation with Hogwarts' defense against the dark arts professors was indeed unique.
"But we really can't learn anything from him, so we want to form a self-study group—teach ourselves the subject, all those defensive spells and so on."
Flitwick, once a dueling champion in his youth, waved an approving hand. "Excellent idea; you have my support."
Seeing him agree, Penelope instantly relaxed. "So we'd like to ask about a place and time."
"Oh," Flitwick said kindly, "you may decide that yourselves. Any time outside class hours, as long as it's before curfew. As for a venue, any empty classroom in Hogwarts is fine—just don't damage the Castle."
Penelope nodded happily and thanked him. "All right—thank you, Professor."
"You're welcome, Miss Penelope. I'm delighted you take your studies so seriously."
He looked at her fondly. "But don't push yourselves too hard—be sure to leave enough time to rest."
"We will." She promised at once, then turned and hurried out of the Great Hall.
She had to get back to Ravenclaw Tower and tell everyone; the sooner this study group started, the better.
Besides, she'd still need to pass the word to the other three Houses later.
Yes, even though every Ravenclaw meant to teach Malfoy a lesson, in this matter Penelope had no wish to take it out on all of Slytherin House.
That would be wrong; every student had an equal right to learn.
Back in the Ravenclaw Common Room, Penelope spotted Amanda at once, sitting between Cho and Marietta with her head lowered over a book.
"It's settled—Professor Flitwick agreed," she announced, bringing the good news to the three younger girls.
"Brilliant!" the other two cheered, high-fiving each other, while Amanda, still reading, didn't register her full name and stayed in study mode.
"Next we tell everyone," Penelope said, drawing a deep breath and looking around at the Little Eagles. "Everyone, gather round, please. If anyone's still in the Dormitory, fetch them—I have an announcement."
Hearing her, the Little Eagles glanced at one another and obediently went to call the rest.
Though puzzled, the male Prefect still helped Penelope herd everyone to the sofas.
"All here?" she asked, rising on tiptoe. After a quick check, the Little Eagles nodded.
"Good." She steadied herself. "As you all know, our current defense against the dark arts professor, Professor Lockhart, is a complete fraud—he can't teach us anything."
Even the first-years had heard from the second-years about Lockhart's "heroics" in his first lesson: releasing Cornish Pixies, losing his wand, and fleeing in panic, leaving Amanda to round the creatures up again.
After that performance, no one doubted Penelope's verdict.
"So I want to organize a self-study group to teach ourselves Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Wow—cool!"
"Great idea!"
"I need it—I'm taking my O.W.L.s this year."
Seeing nearly every Eagle nod, Penelope went on with a grin.
"The group will be mutual help: upper years guiding lower years. As for the main tutor, I'd like to ask Miss Amanda to take the role."
Hearing her full name, Amanda finally closed her book, stood politely, and nodded to the assembled students.
"Er… I know some of you may wonder whether Amanda can guide upper years," Penelope said carefully, trying to bolster confidence in her abilities.
To her surprise, every Ravenclaw shook their heads in perfect unison.
Question Amanda's ability? Ridiculous.
In first year she'd single-handedly slain a Troll and at the end of the year defeated Professor Quirrell in solo combat—who were they to doubt her?
At that, Penelope raised her eyebrows in mild astonishment.
Even for Ravenclaws—natural high-achievers with no small share of pride—genuine admiration was hard won.
But judging by the current situation, everyone genuinely admires Amanda.
Before doing something, you should first let the other party confirm that you're capable of doing it.
Then let them choose whether they want you to do it.
At this thought, Amanda unhesitatingly drew her wand and pointed it at a seventh-year boy in front of her.
"Senior, sorry, I might offend you, but I need to prove my ability to everyone."
Hearing Amanda's emotionless tone, the senior facing her nodded trustingly and drew his own wand, standing in place.
The Little Eagles around silently stepped back; no one worried—after all, this was Amanda.
Their Ravenclaw darling would never hurt them.
"Expelliarmus."
Before the seventh-year senior could react, his wand flew helplessly from his hand and was caught by Amanda.
Immediately, Amanda turned her wand toward an empty patch of floor; the next spell wasn't suitable for aiming at a person.
Amanda's mind raced: no one present could withstand it—anyone hit would definitely end up in the Hospital Wing.
"Stupefy."
Bang! A loud crash; tiles on the ground shattered, even the Castle's floor cracked.
"Impedimenta."
She turned her wand at a chair beside the empty space; struck by her Impediment Jinx, the chair lurched backward as if shoved by an invisible barrier.
"Reducto." The poor chair was instantly pulverized.
Spell after spell flowed from Amanda's wand, progressing from easy to difficult.
Second-, third-, fourth-year, all the way up to seventh-year Defense Against the Dark Arts spells—none stumped her.
And the power of each spell she cast was far from ordinary.
As Amanda kept casting, the Little Eagles' eyes grew wider. They knew she was good, but this good? Had Merlin himself given her private tutoring?
When the final spell appeared, everyone's jaws dropped.
"Protego."
An invisible shield sprang up in front of Amanda—and beside the others. Calling it "invisible" might be wrong.
The moment it appeared, it plowed a deep gouge into the walls, floor, and ceiling on either side.
Clearly the Shield Charm had embedded itself into the wall—its range was enormous.
"By Merlin… she's the real Ravenclaw."
A dazed Little Eagle voiced what every other Little Eagle was thinking.
Clearing every year's spells in second year, and at strengths far beyond normal—
That's true "cleverness," true "love of learning," isn't it?
Compared with Amanda… they all felt like fake Ravenclaws.
With a flick of her wand she dismissed the Shield Charm and cast "Reparo" repeatedly, mending everything she had broken.
Demonstrating her ability on school property was justified, but damaging it was still wrong—wrong is wrong.
Just like back home: apart from meals and sleep, every moment was study time.
Doing chores was naturally expected.
Yet if she wasn't mentally reviewing lessons while working, it counted as lost study time—a violation of her own rule.
One thing at a time; her standards for herself had to be the highest and strictest.
One chair, the floor, the ceiling, both walls—five pieces of school property damaged in total.
She committed the count to memory, pocketed her wand, turned to the Ravenclaw students, and spoke methodically.
"I have now cast every Defense Against the Dark Arts spell from first through seventh year. May I ask: do you recognize my ability?"
Though phrased as a question, her tone was almost certain; every Ravenclaw felt a pang of guilt.
"We recognize it."
"We do."
"Of course we do."
"If we didn't, Lady Ravenclaw herself would call us fools."
Voices chimed in from every side, all expressing absolute trust and recognition of Amanda's skill.
Seeing everyone affirm her, Penelope, Cho Chang, and Marietta broke into happy smiles.
Penelope smoothed her hair and looked at the assembled Little Eagles.
"Since Amanda will be our study group's main tutor, we can't offer nothing in return."
A gleam flashed in her eyes. "I propose we take charge of her snacks. I'll start—this week I'll buy them for her."
And feed her, she silently added, remembering how jealous she'd felt watching Hermione feed Amanda snacks back at the villa.
Watching Amanda chew with that blank expression was endlessly entertaining—she'd eat whatever you offered, so obedient it was adorable.
Cho and Marietta, who'd also stayed at the villa, instantly caught on and spun toward Penelope.
Well done, Senior—quick thinking.
"I'll take week two!" Cho said hastily.
Marietta changed what she'd been about to say: "Week three is mine!"
By now the rest of the Little Eagles had caught up: feed snacks to Amanda—to their Ravenclaw darling!
A chorus of claims rang out. Amanda stared blankly at her excited classmates.
Her brain told her clearly: they were thrilled at the chance to buy her snacks—and to feed them to her.
Yet her brain couldn't tell her why.
She couldn't grasp why they'd eagerly, even competitively, spend their own resources on something that offered them no study benefit.
Understanding or not, the snack-feeding plan was set: Amanda's snacks for the entire school year had been "outsourced."
Clearly, the previously snack-deprived Amanda could now enjoy treats in healthy moderation.
As for any later volunteers from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or maybe even Slytherin—
They could queue up; for the whole year, the right to feed Amanda belonged solely to Ravenclaw—plus Gryffindor's Miss Granger.
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