Hogwarts had an ancient and magical safeguard—if a boy tried to enter the girls' dormitory, he would find the stairs themselves acting against him.
The unlucky boy attempting the intrusion would, under everyone's watchful eyes, be sent tumbling down the staircase-turned-slide, utterly embarrassed. Of course, since no one had tried this while under the effects of a Polyjuice Potion, it was unclear if the magic could be fooled.
The wheel of karma turns well. This time, it was the girls attempting to enter the boys' camp—and the outcome was different.
Normally, when some unlucky boy was flung by the dormitory slides, everyone's first reaction was laughter. Then they would decide whether to pity or scorn him. But today… no one dared to laugh.
More precisely, the boys who were walking and chatting nearby were breaking out in cold sweats—pure terror.
Wizards weren't all about physical strength, and a witch's combat ability could easily match a wizard's. On top of that, the girl in question was a prefect—a clear indication of her strength.
Although the title "prefect" didn't provide buffs to attack power or speed, no weakling could ever become one. You really think a weak prefect could control the scene?
Even Ron—whose reputation as a prefect was sometimes doubted—had shown remarkable skill from childhood, often rivaling Malfoy.
So, this girl prefect's prowess was obvious. Even more terrifying—she was one of the more respected girls. In a school where students spent their formative years from eleven to eighteen, her authority carried serious weight.
It was no wonder the loudest boys were now trembling like quails.
"Not bad—quite brave. Who said that? Step forward!" The prefect's voice was commanding, her hair still a chaotic mess from earlier, deepening everyone's fear.
Silence. No one dared to step up.
"None of you admit it? I'll count—one, two, three!"
Before the count reached three, a figure stepped forward—the most popular fourth-year boy among the boys: Marshall, Allen's roommate. Why was he popular? That's another story.
"Courageous! Marshall, was that you? Standing up like this—tell me, who cast this magic?" The new girl prefect, a year above Allen, showed no emotion, yet not a single person present was not scared.
Marshall was still bewildered, his mind barely processing, and instinctively admitted: "I… I cast this spell."
Of course he did. Why else would a cramped tent be able to accommodate so many people? It was Marshall's tent—maximally expanded, protected by the twins' shielding and alarm charms for safety!
Seeing a group of boys scared stiff (and note—their actions earlier were clearly school violations; though male prefects might overlook them, female enforcers made everyone nervous…), the prefect raised an eyebrow, sizing up Marshall, who looked utterly clueless.
Just as the cold sweat on Marshall's forehead threatened to break free, she stepped forward, lifted slightly on her toes, and boldly kissed him on the cheek: "Good. I remember you don't have a girlfriend—consider that changed."
With that sharp remark, she left a stunned Marshall and the petrified boys behind, giggling away with the girls. They were pleased that their previous arrangements were approved, but with limited time and minimal tent modifications, they had no further suggestions—so they went off with their leading prefect.
Of course—she may have just been shy and left quickly—but that had nothing to do with Allen or the others.
Once the girls had gone, the boys emerging from the tents and those watching expressed both envy and sympathy for Marshall. Envy for two reasons: first, he'd just become single no more; second, this prefect was highly respected among boys, though most were too timid to pursue her.
Allen even handed him a small bag of chocolate beans in celebration—he had been studying a complex structure with older Ravenclaw students and emerged to witness Marshall's success.
Though the story had twists, the ending was good, right?
Yet Marshall's face remained pale—shock completely eclipsing any joy.
One onlooker, unable to resist, said: "Marshall, don't play dumb! You just got a girlfriend and are officially the most handsome fifth-year—come on. School bans alcohol and all that, but offering us a small treat isn't too much, right? Or at least share some of your private treasures!"
The crowd cheered in agreement.
Marshall, teeth clenched, muttered: "Damn it… that jerk pushed me, didn't he?"
Someone stepped forward boldly: "Don't be petty. Look, you just got a girlfriend! As repayment, sharing a few of your treasures is nothing, right?"
After receiving such a huge favor, he couldn't just ignore it.
"I thank you for nothing! I demand a duel with you!"
Marshall angrily tore open the chocolate Allen gave him and shoved it into his mouth, chAnnieling his frustration into food.
"Pfft—last time who picked the prettiest girls at school? Now you deny it?" The other boy had no fear on his face, just digging up old secrets.
Allen was utterly confused. What the heck?
He had never heard of this list. When had the school started this "mysterious ranking"? His dorm mates had never mentioned it—only once vaguely referenced and quickly skipped over.
Yet all the boys here seemed well-informed.
This ranking seems ridiculous… I need to understand this. Allen casually pulled someone aside, ignoring the back-and-forth, to ask his question.
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