It turned out that Cedric was a good person, a man of his word. Although he was somewhat frustrated after losing the bet, he couldn't bring himself to go back on his word. Instead, he earnestly reminded Robert to notify him as soon as the club was established.
Of course, Cedric still hadn't fully grasped the nature of the bet. Robert hadn't clearly explained the terms. Originally, the bet was about catching a tennis ball, but Robert insisted that the terms had changed, and the new bet was about whether they could catch the ball easily. Cedric, who had never bet before, was left confused and thought, "Is betting always this dangerous? I'll never bet with anyone again!"
Despite being exhausted from training, with the help of various spells, both of them appeared refreshed in the Great Hall.
"Hey, Robert, Cedric, over here," Stebbins saved seats for them. Robert sat down and immediately gulped a glass of milk, as he was parched. Cedric greeted his friends and started devouring food, as he was starving after the training.
Stebbins was puzzled. What had happened to his friends? They had disappeared early in the morning and now looked like they were starving. Had they been exploring the castle?
Stebbins moved closer and asked curiously, "Robert, where did you and Ced go this morning? We were worried when we didn't see you."
Summers lifted his head from his oatmeal and greeted them.
"Didn't you hear about it yesterday?" Robert asked, confused. "The Quidditch captain asked me to help train Ced."
"What? So early?!" Stebbins widened his eyes in disbelief.
"It's not that early," Robert said, his mouth full of scrambled eggs. "Improving dynamic vision isn't as simple as memorizing magical history. Without talent, Ced wouldn't be able to master it this year."
Stebbins shrank back and muttered, "I think memorizing magical history is pretty hard too…"
Robert sighed, "Stebbins, did you forget to do your magical history homework again?"
Stebbins buried his head in his bowl.
"Alright, since that's the case…" Robert took out a piece of paper, wrote something on it, and handed it to him. "Are you interested in joining the Exam Research Society?"
"Exam… research?" Stebbins glanced at the parchment, which read "Exam Research Society," and exclaimed in surprise, "Why would anyone want to study exams?"
"It's not about studying exams, but about studying how to pass them," Robert twirled his quill, thinking about how to write his club application.
Stebbins looked around and whispered to Robert, "Robert, cheating is wrong."
Robert gave him a deadpan look, "What? Stebbins, what's going on in your head? Why would you think of cheating? It's just an exam. The questions are so simple, who needs to cheat?"
Stebbins was on the verge of tears.
"Alright, I'm just teasing you," Robert chuckled. "It's mainly about gathering friends who want to score high on exams and sharing tips on learning magic."
"Then it should be called something like the Magic Study Group…" Stebbins said dejectedly. "Exam Research Society sounds terrifying."
Robert raised an eyebrow, "Protest denied. I'm the president. Stebbins, want to join?"
Stebbins shook his head vigorously.
"Maybe someone will teach you how to answer magical history questions," Robert continued to tempt him.
Stebbins' eyes lit up, but then he hesitated again.
Robert was speechless. If even this didn't hook him, how scared of exams was he?
After a moment, Robert tried again, "Maybe there's a senior student who's really good at Potions…"
"I'll join!" Stebbins cried out, tears streaming down his face.
Robert clicked his tongue. Professor Snape, how terrifying are you? Look at how you've scared poor Stebbins!
Mentioning Potions class made him cry, just like a bully who makes children cry.
Sighing, Robert shoved a Chocolate Frog into Stebbins' mouth, hoping its passive skill would activate—increasing happiness.
Stebbins cried while hiccuping, the thick chocolate from the frog nearly melting in his mouth.
Thankfully, the other three roommates were clean, and Stebbins had been persuaded in every sense. Even though he was crying, he didn't spill any chocolate, sipping it carefully.
It seemed that Snape's intimidation was stronger than the happiness from a Chocolate Frog…
After breakfast, Robert approached Professor McGonagall. Establishing a club required the Deputy Headmistress's approval. Of course, Robert had already consulted Professor Sprout, who didn't seem interested but didn't discourage him either.
"A club… to research exams?" Professor McGonagall frowned. "Mr. Leslie, I don't want you to approach magic with a utilitarian mindset. If you don't have a reasonable explanation, I won't approve the club."
"Professor McGonagall, you might have misunderstood," Robert smiled, unfazed by her refusal. The professor wanted every student to graduate successfully, but she also wanted them to truly understand magic before doing so, not just rely on shortcuts.
Professor McGonagall lowered her head, took off her glasses, and scrutinized Robert, as if trying to see if he was lying.
But Robert had already prepared his argument.
"By consulting seniors, I've confirmed that the exam questions change every year, so you don't need to worry about us only memorizing a few key points or practicing specific spells. Even the seniors don't know what this year's exam will focus on."
"Actually, the knowledge in the books is easy to grasp, but every year some students fail. What we need to do is help them remember all the material so they can pass, while those who are already doing well can aim for Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding."
"Moreover, by sharing experiences on certain topics, we can help less talented students quickly grasp the material, while more talented students can explore more uses for spells."
Robert shrugged, "It's much better than struggling alone."
Professor McGonagall nodded but still didn't relent. "I agree with your points. If that's the case, Mr. Leslie, you should consider changing the name. Magic Research Society or Magic Study Group would be better. Why call it the Exam Research Society?"
Robert scratched his head, "Well, how should I put this?"
He thought for a moment and explained, "In the Muggle world, if you want to sell something, you need a selling point. For example, if I'm selling a toothbrush, my selling point could be the flexibility of the bristles or the convenience of the brush."
He snapped his fingers, "Exams are the selling point of our club. For many people, exams are a terrifying ordeal, and our club's main goal is to help members pass them."
He smiled confidently, "Do you think this explanation is convincing, Professor McGonagall?"
(End of chapter)