Chapter 219 – Hogwarts, Where Even Trolls Can Graduate
Alexander Smith knew Slytherins weren't the friendliest lot, but he had never expected their reaction to be quite this extreme.
As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, every table except Slytherin's erupted into thunderous cheers and stomping feet.
At Ravenclaw's table, students lifted their goblets high, cheering their champion, Harry Potter.
Ron stood proudly beside him, chest puffed out as though he himself had been the one who earned the glory.
Alexander thought that would be the end of it. Ravenclaw had already secured the House Cup, after all—surely Dumbledore wouldn't award extra points on top of that. But he was being naïve.
"I would love to call it a day," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling, "but recent events must also be taken into account."
The Great Hall hushed instantly, then filled again with a murmur of voices—especially from the Slytherin table. Students exchanged sly smiles, as if they already knew what was coming.
Yes, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had broken into the forbidden fourth floor. They had violated more rules than anyone could count, and trespassed where even the staff warned against going.
Surely this was Ravenclaw's undoing.
Slytherin was still in first place by twenty-four points. Gryffindor trailed by forty, and Ravenclaw—despite their lead—should, by all logic, be penalized.
Even if Malfoy's antics had lost Slytherin some points, the three who entered the restricted area had also defended the school's secrets. It wouldn't be enough to erase Slytherin's advantage.
Victory seemed secure.
"Uh, uh," Dumbledore cleared his throat, smiling serenely. "Quiet."
The Slytherins fell into silence, expectant.
The other Houses watched nervously, praying Dumbledore wouldn't hand Slytherin first place after all.
"I have some final points to distribute," the Headmaster continued. "Let me see… ah, yes. First—Mr. Draco Malfoy."
Draco flushed pink, like a ripe peach.
"For demonstrating keen logic in the face of danger, I award Slytherin House fifty points."
For a heartbeat, the Slytherins looked stunned. Then their cheers exploded like thunder, rattling the enchanted ceiling until the stars above seemed to tremble.
But beneath the cheers, many Slytherins frowned. They knew the truth: if Dumbledore was adding points at this stage, it meant their lead was no longer safe.
Still, they shouted themselves hoarse:
"No! That's enough!"
"We're number one again!"
"Applaud, you fools—we've won!"
But the smiles of the other Houses told a different story.
"The second award," Dumbledore announced, "goes to Mr. Ron Weasley—for the most remarkable game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years. I grant Ravenclaw fifty points."
Ron leapt to his feet, glowing with pride. Unfortunately, the applause was thin. Not because his achievement wasn't impressive, but because he had already retold the story at least a dozen times. Everyone knew why his name was being called.
Still, Percy wouldn't miss the chance. He shouted loudly to the prefects, "That's my brother! My youngest brother! He beat Professor McGonagall's giant chessboard himself!"
"The third award," Dumbledore said, "goes to Harry Potter."
The Hall fell into breathless silence.
"For showing fearless courage and extraordinary bravery, I award Ravenclaw House sixty points."
The roar that followed was deafening.
Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived, Quidditch star, and savior of Hogwarts—was their champion. Even if Ron had spoiled the story by repeating it all week, hearing Dumbledore himself say it made every heart race.
Harry, however, merely stared down at the sausage on his plate, as if it held some great mystery. Ron, meanwhile, sulked beside him, eating moodily as though chewing away his frustration.
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Watching from his seat, Alexander silently admired Dumbledore's cunning. The old fox had deliberately given Malfoy's award first, feeding Slytherin a taste of hope—only to crush it moments later.
Brilliant.
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When exam results arrived, Alexander tied with Hermione for first place. Yet Hermione wasn't happy—she knew full well that being tied on paper didn't mean they were equal. Alexander had achieved perfection effortlessly, while she had scraped her way there with painstaking effort.
Harry, to his surprise, placed third in the year. Only his struggles in History of Magic had dragged him down.
Ron, who had worried constantly about failing, was relieved to find he had passed handily, even ranking higher than he expected. His shoulders finally relaxed.
Harry, on the other hand, was shocked that Dudley hadn't failed. Surely he should have been expelled or forced to repeat the year.
Not that Harry disliked his cousin—on the contrary, their relationship had softened since Dudley had become a wizard. But Dudley was no natural student. His place at Smeltings Prep had required both bribes and favors.
Alexander chuckled when Harry brought it up. "There's no such thing as being expelled or held back for grades—not until fifth year at least. After OWLs, professors may refuse students entry to advanced classes if their marks aren't high enough. For example, Snape demands an O in Potions before allowing anyone into sixth-year study. Others may accept an E, or even an A. Some subjects have no requirements at all. Honestly, even if you scored a T for 'Troll,' you could still graduate Hogwarts."
He sipped his tea lazily, perfectly at ease.
Harry gave him a look that said he wasn't sure whether to laugh or despair.
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By the afternoon, trunks were packed, dormitories stood empty, and Neville's toad had been fished out of the bathroom corner once again.
Each student received a notice: a reminder that no magic was to be used during the holidays.
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(End of Chapter 219)
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