The Days Before Exams
After that afternoon with Ponyta and Vulpix, it became a quiet tradition.
Whenever lessons ended and stress crept in, someone would ask—casually, innocently—
"Lucien… can we play with Ponyta again?"
Sometimes he agreed.
Sometimes he said, "Later."
Either way, it worked.
Hermione stopped overthinking.
Katie and Clara laughed more.
Angelina's nerves vanished.
Daphne and Cassandra stayed composed.
Evelyn grew steadier each day.
Penelope studied with confidence.
Cho smiled instead of panicking.
Susan slept properly.
Tonks… stopped pretending she wasn't calm.
By the time exam week arrived, none of them feared it.
Lucien had made knowledge feel safe.
Exam Day
The Great Hall was silent but for quills scratching parchment.
Lucien finished his paper in twenty minutes.
Not rushed.
Not smug.
Just… done.
He stretched lazily, stood up, and walked forward to hand in his parchment.
On the way, his eyes flicked sideways.
And then—
He stopped.
His brain stalled.
Ron Weasley was writing furiously.
Quill flying.
Ink splattering.
Face serious.
Lucien leaned slightly, just enough to see.
And immediately wished he hadn't.
Ron Weasley: A Mystery Beyond Magic
Ron's parchment was…
Upside.
Down.
The exam paper was upside down.
And the answers?
They weren't even for the same subject.
Ron was confidently writing Charms theory
…in a Transfiguration exam.
Lucien stood there.
Silent.
Speechless.
Questioning reality.
He slowly turned as Professor McGonagall passed by.
"Professor," Lucien said politely, "could you… pinch me?"
McGonagall frowned. "What?"
Lucien stepped aside and gestured.
She followed his gaze.
Looked.
Paused.
Looked again.
Her lips parted.
Her eyebrow twitched.
She pinched herself.
Hard.
"…Merlin help me," she whispered.
This was not a dream.
This was real.
Lucien turned away.
If he stayed another second, he would get a migraine.
He handed in his paper and walked out without looking back.
McGonagall vs. Ron Weasley
McGonagall approached Ron carefully.
"Mr. Weasley," she said, strained politeness barely holding,
"your parchment appears to be upside down."
Ron waved her off without looking up.
"Professor, don't disturb me," he said seriously.
"I'm thinking."
McGonagall stared.
Then… walked away.
She needed tea.
Possibly firewhisky.
Possibly therapy.
Outside the Hall
Lucien stepped into the corridor, exhaled once, and rubbed his temple.
"…I understand now," he muttered.
The world was unfair.
Magic had limits.
And Ron Weasley was proof of them.
Far behind him, exam papers rustled.
Ahead of him, summer waited.
And Lucien walked on—unburdened, unbothered, and very glad he wasn't a professor.