The first exam was purely written, a parchment and quill test. First-years from all four Houses had been rearranged and divided between two classrooms.
To prevent cheating with enchanted quills, students were forbidden from bringing their own writing implements. Only the quills and ink provided by the school could be used.
This rule had been drilled into every student by the professors repeatedly. Even outside the exam hall, pictograms bearing a large "No" symbol warned against bringing personal quills, one of the designs actually came from Ian himself.
Answer Quills.
These were a creation Ian had tweaked and begun selling about a month before exams started. When the prohibition was announced, many Gryffindors nearly howled in despair.
Ian, however, remained utterly unfazed. He had never intended to cheat himself, and by the time the rule came down, he'd already sold most of his stock.
Refunds? Not a chance. Ian planned to sell the remaining batch at the start of the next term, aiming to unload them to wealthy Harry and the new Slytherins.
"I'm just too devious!"
As Ian breezed through the exam, he chuckled quietly to himself. By the time he finished reflecting on his own cunning, he had completed every question on the test.
Since early submission wasn't permitted, Ian was left with nothing to do. He began spinning his school-issued quill between his fingers out of sheer boredom. The quill and ink had been standardized by Professor Flitwick himself, designed specifically to prevent cheating, and far less smooth than regular writing tools.
Luckily, Hogwarts allowed ample time for exams, so generous that any student from his previous life's rigid Eastern examinations would have cried tears of joy.
"What a splendid sight."
Watching his classmates scribble diligently, Ian spun his quill at an engine-like pace, soon catching Professor Flitwick's sharp eye.
"Put away your distractions, Mr. Prince. If you've finished, please review your answers carefully. Do not disturb your classmates."
What can you say? Different world, but the same sort of proctor. And the students? Equally inventive. No matter how strict the anti-cheating rules, there were always daring souls ready to test their luck.
Some hid tiny parchment strips in their robes. Others wrote answers on the backs of their hands. One even inscribed something inside his mouth, a method Ian guessed was worthy of Braille-level ingenuity.
Ian watched in amazement as a Gryffindor student answered questions while wildly moving his tongue inside his mouth. Gryffindor was truly a house of creative geniuses.
There was always someone devising some unexpected scheme. Having finished early, Ian witnessed a carnival of chaotic ingenuity, though Professor Flitwick only intervened to stop Ian's quill-spinning.
As for the cheating students…
Professor Flitwick chose to turn a blind eye. Instead, he sat at the teachers' desk, holding a small mirror and spending the entire morning trimming his nose hair. Ian half suspected the professor was sculpting miniature reliefs in the strands.
As exam time drew to a close, everyone handed in their parchments in surprisingly orderly fashion. Their expressions ranged from excitement to smugness, and some clearly braced for disappointment.
"Very good, everyone did quite well,"
Professor Flitwick chirped in his usual high-pitched voice. While collecting the papers, he gently waved his wand over the stack. With a flick, seventeen or eighteen parchments floated out.
"I must remind you all, true cheating is only cheating if it goes undetected. If you're caught, then you're simply being foolish," Professor Flitwick said without even glancing at the subjects of the papers he held.
With a dramatic flourish of his wand, he stamped each of the confiscated exam parchments with a bold "T", the lowest possible mark.
"Especially you, Miss Ariel. I may not be your Transfiguration professor, but I would appreciate it if you showed some respect for my eyesight. Next year, if you intend to cheat again, please don't be so glaringly obvious."
"Turning your crib notes into a charm-enchanted wristband and tying it around your arm? Clever, I'll admit, but we weren't sitting a practical Transfiguration exam."
"And as for Miss Daphne Greengrass, although you remained focused and diligent throughout the test, I sincerely hope next time you'll take your own exam, in your own classroom."
"Honestly, sacrificing your own grade to sit the exam for Roger Skylant using Polyjuice Potion, hardly the wisest or most ethical choice."
"Consider this: after you repay the potion debts to certain... mysterious benefactors at Hogwarts, how much of the reward Roger Skylant offered will you really keep?"
…
It was clear Professor Flitwick not only saw through every instance of cheating but also possessed a rather comprehensive knowledge of the recent under-the-table dealings within the castle.
When he referenced the potion suppliers, he shot a helpless glance in Ian's direction. Ian paid it no mind, his attention fixed instead on the flushed, embarrassed expression spreading across Roger Skylant's face.
To be honest,
Even Ian hadn't quite understood Daphne Greengrass's scheme. He'd assumed she was trying to steal a test paper. Who would have guessed she was orchestrating some intricate grade-trading gambit?
All Ian could think was: true to form for a pure-blood heiress, even her schemes for profit operated on a far more sophisticated level. It left a business-minded wizard like Ian genuinely impressed.
"Blasted Professor Flitwick!"
"Why didn't he catch us red-handed while we were still cheating?!"
"Now I see why that little monster picked Ravenclaw, Ravenclaws really do have the most twisted minds! I bet Flitwick enjoyed watching us struggle for nothing!"
"Sigh… what a harsh lesson to learn…"
…
After the theory exam,
Many young witches and wizards were as despondent as Daphne Greengrass. After all, it was their first-year finals, and quite a few had been relying on cheating to secure good grades.
The older students who witnessed this spectacle couldn't stop laughing. They had all been there themselves once and now took twisted pleasure in watching the next generation stumble, there's a peculiar joy in thinking, "I've weathered that storm; seeing others soaked too somehow eases the memory."
Of course, even such twisted amusement was not entirely without merit.
"This really is... magic," Ian muttered, watching an upper-year senior, fueled by exactly that twisted joy, successfully cast a shimmering Patronus Charm.
Sometimes, magic born purely from deep emotion was truly remarkable.
By coincidence, or perhaps not, when Ian entered his one-on-one Charms practical exam with Professor Flitwick, his assigned spell just happened to be… the Patronus Charm.
It was certainly no standard test question, likely not even common among his year group. It was a special challenge Professor Flitwick had prepared just for Ian.
"Come on, show me, show me!" Flitwick rubbed his hands together eagerly. It was hard not to suspect he was indulging his own curiosity under the guise of authority.
Ravenclaws were famous for their insatiable curiosity. Considering Flitwick had been studying Ian's Patronus for some time, his eagerness was at least somewhat understandable.
"This really is the question?" Ian sighed with resignation.
"Well, you know, a wizard's Patronus should generally be kept secret… but I am your Head of House, so of course I wouldn't betray your confidence!" Flitwick chuckled, rubbing his hands again.
Ian knew exactly what Flitwick was implying: I'm abandoning my usual principles, just show me already.
"Expecto Patronum."
Ian felt no need to hide it, nor did he suspect Professor Flitwick would ever use it against him. So, he cast the spell calmly.
Countless threads of silver light burst from his wand like shooting stars across a midnight sky. They twisted, spun, and danced in the air, radiating a gentle yet resolute glow, illuminating everything around Ian.
As the silver strands continued to weave together, an astonishing sight unfolded before Professor Flitwick's eyes. The once-flickering light gradually took shape…
…into the form of a young girl.
(To Be Continued…)
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