Chapter 15: The Difference in Academic Ability

After the first-year students had grown accustomed to the ever-shifting stairs of Castle, Wade’s life at Hogwarts settled into a routine.

First-years had remarkably light schedules—sometimes only one class a day, never more than three. At first glance, Wade found it hard to believe. How could students constantly complaining about Professor assignments ever fail to finish a mere few inches of essay?

In his previous life, Wade had been writing essays of at least three hundred characters before the age of ten—this was Chinese, known as a "linguistic compression package." If translated into English, he could easily expand those ideas to a thousand words. After years of systematic training through high school, university, and graduate studies, producing ten thousand words in two days wasn’t out of reach.

But after studying alongside Michael and Hermione for a while, Wade finally understood why.

Among the first-years, aside from Wade himself, Hermione was the only one who completed her essays with ease. At the very least, she never made basic grammar mistakes, rarely stumbled over spelling, and could quickly identify key points from the text—then articulate them clearly and logically.

These skills were beyond the reach of the other three, even Michael, the Ravenclaw prodigy.

Why? Because they all came from wizarding families.

Wizards lived almost entirely separate from the Muggle world—even when one parent was Muggle-born. Most wizarding families lived in isolation, avoiding contact with Muggles altogether. They even cast Muggle-Repelling Charms around their homes, just to prevent accidental intrusions.

As a result, wizards had little understanding of Muggle fashion, technology, or culture. To them, sending their children to Muggle schools for education was like entrusting a human child to be raised by monkeys living in trees.

In Britain, Hogwarts was the only magical school—there were no "Magic primary schools" or "Magic universities." Before the age of eleven, most wizarding children received home education. If their parents had time, they taught them to read, write, and do basic arithmetic. But with neglectful parents, some children couldn’t even spell Feather Quill.

Michael and the others had begun receiving education from their parents as early as five or six. They were proficient in reading and writing—but reading and writing were not the same as learning to learn. Wizarding home education lacked many elements found in Muggle systematic schooling.

For instance, when teaching their children to read, wizard parents rarely emphasized logical reasoning or inductive summarization. Wade suspected many wizards didn’t even understand these concepts. After all, they had always looked down on Muggle theories with disdain.

Moreover, even Hermione struggled to quickly extract key ideas from dense texts. While she could grasp basic logic—like “if A equals B, and B equals C, then A equals C”—the textbooks presented far more complex ideas.

One passage read:

“If two thermodynamic systems are each in thermal equilibrium with a third system, then they are also in thermal equilibrium with each other. That is, if two systems maintain unchanged physical properties when allowed to exchange heat, then even without direct heat exchange, they must be in equilibrium.”

To most young wizards, this was just a string of incomprehensible letters sliding through their minds—leaving no trace.

Hermione, thanks to her exceptional memory, could memorize everything and slowly piece together understanding by cross-referencing sources. But most first-years could only scribble down a jumble of notes they didn’t understand, scratch their heads in frustration, and submit a half-baked assignment hoping their professor would be lenient enough to give them an A (passing grade).

And then there was the environment.

Eleven-year-olds were sent away from home to live in boarding school, with only loose supervision from their House professors. Even the famously strict McGonagall or Snape wouldn’t intervene if a student was sleeping in the dormitory or playing games in the common room during free time.

This relaxed atmosphere was a severe test for young people’s self-discipline. Laziness and play were natural instincts. But learning? That only came naturally to a rare few.

Like Hermione.

Like Wade.

In just two weeks, the two had already stood out among the first-years.

The difference? Hermione held herself and others to rigid standards. She refused to copy assignments, never tolerated rule-breaking, and expected everyone to do the same.

Wade, on the other hand, never minded if others copied his work. While he spent hours in the Practice Room drilling spells and refining techniques, he never forced others to join him.

He understood, deep down, the laziness that came with being a teenager. In his past life, he’d been just as guilty.

This time around, he worked harder than anyone—not because he loved studying, but because he loved magic. To him, magic wasn’t an innate, given gift. It was a rare privilege. And so, he treasured every opportunity more than anyone else in the school.

Another late-night practice session drew near curfew. Wade hurried back to Ravenclaw Tower.

The corridors outside were silent, as if everyone had fallen asleep.

But as soon as he stepped into the common room, he realized it was still too early.

Hogwarts had curfew, but no lights-out. Students could stay up all night in the brightly lit common room if they wanted.

Now, the Ravenclaw common room was full of students from all years—couples whispering sweet nothings on the sofa in the corner, bored first-years playing Wizard’s Chess at the round table, and upperclassmen scribbling furiously on parchment to finish their assignments.

Though crowded, the room remained calm. Ravenclaws naturally spoke in hushed tones.

By the fireplace, a group of seven or eight students sat on the couches, their soft laughter occasionally breaking the quiet.

Wade glanced over, gave a brief, indifferent look, then found a quiet corner to sit. He opened his book and began taking notes.

Michael, noticing this, smiled at the girl beside him, said something playful, then stood and walked over.

“Still studying this late?” Michael leaned against the table. “Wade, we’ve only been here a month. You’re practically done with the entire first-year curriculum. What are you going to do with the rest of the time? I’m not saying you’re wrong—just that you’re pushing yourself too hard. You should take a break sometimes. You know how many girls want to get to know you?”

He raised his eyebrows toward the fireplace, prompting another ripple of giggles from the girls.

Wade paused, his feather quill hovering mid-air. His gray eyes met Michael’s, calm and steady.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But Michael—do you know how long we’ll actually get to stay at Hogwarts?”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end