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Merlin only knew how long that last rumour about Dumbledore being a male Veela would circulate. The moment Ian exited the room, he was mobbed by a crowd of familiar faces, all clamouring for information. And truth be told, he was in a bit of a bind; he honestly didn't know what sort of exams the others had been given.
"Honestly, there's no need to panic. This year's exam was rather simple." Ian gave a vague, non-committal answer. Even if the test had been difficult for the others, no one would accuse him of lying.
Everyone knew Ian's command of magic was leagues above that of his peers. A test that seemed easy to him could easily be gruelling for the average student.
And if it really had been simple, he could just say he was trying to view it from their perspective. Either way, his answer would pass.
"I'm brilliant, honestly."
Having successfully fended off the barrage of nosy students, Ian, who had now completed all his exams, originally intended to return to the Room of Requirement for a well-earned rest.
But on his way towards the staircase, he spotted George and Fred Weasley, the second-year Gryffindor twins, looking thoroughly dejected after finishing their own tests. They had the look of two lads who'd just discovered all their vaults at Gringotts had been emptied.
"What's happened? Did things not go well?"
Like many Ravenclaws, Ian couldn't resist the guilty pleasure of pretending to care about others' marks come end-of-term.
"It's not that we didn't do well… it's more like the sky's come crashing down. We got caught cheating by Professor McGonagall." Fred sighed deeply, tinged with just the faintest regret.
He clearly wasn't upset about the mark, it was the failure of their scheme that stung.
"It's your fault, Fred! I said we should at least revise properly for three days, alright, even two! But you insisted your little cheat-device was foolproof!" George grumbled, wasting no time pointing fingers.
"Oi, don't be ridiculous! Weren't you the one who shouted it was 'sheer brilliance' and we'd be legends at Hogwarts for it?" Fred snapped back, refusing to accept the blame alone.
As usual, the twins immediately spiralled into one of their infamous squabbles.
"For Merlin's sake! The plan looked great on parchment, but in practice, it was absolute rubbish! Not only did we fail to corner the test market, we made a pair of right wallies out of ourselves!" George was fuming.
"Didn't your kits still sell over ten sets? That's not bad at all, is it?" Ian, though inwardly amused, donned his usual dry, polite tone to offer what passed for "comfort."
"Not bad, my ass!" George pulled a tiny, artificial-looking ant from his ear. On closer inspection, it wasn't alive, but rather resembled a tiny enchanted toy made of resin and wood.
"The test assistant could only help with questions we already knew the answers to! What good is that? If I know the answers, I don't need the blasted thing!"
"Not only did it not help me improve my grade, I had to stand in the exam hall all morning after McGonagall caught me cheating, all because of a completely worthless invention!"
"Ian, do you know what it's like having something crawl inside your ear and not being able to scratch it because you've been hit with a Freezing Charm? I'd rather do ballet in Azkaban with a Dementor for a partner!"
George's complaints were entirely justified. Clearly, Professor McGonagall's approach to punishing cheaters differed from Professor Flitwick's, but both left a lasting impression.
Naturally.
Both forms of discipline were the kind one didn't soon forget.
"We just didn't have time... I couldn't finish calibrating the test assistants. Next year, I'll iron out the bugs. We'll embed them directly into our hats! That way, even McGonagall won't catch us." Fred's voice carried the guilty ring of someone planning another disaster.
The mere notion of that kind of "upgrade" made Ian's scalp tingle.
"Bloody useless test charm assistent! May it rot in the depths of the Forbidden Forest!"
George hurled the tiny enchanted ant back at Fred and declared, with fiery indignation, that he would be leading the next round of mischief-making.
"Fine, fine... Let's just figure out how we're going to survive the practical exam this year."
Fred muttered, clearly recognising his blunder and retreating with unusual humility.
"Oi, Ian, any clue what the Second-Year Defense Against the Dark Arts exam looks like?" George, spotting Ian sauntering over, pounced at the chance for insider information. At Hogwarts, each subject usually had a single professor, so it stood to reason that the exam would be the same for everyone.
"I'm a First-Year. How would I know what your exam looks like?" Ian gave him a withering look, well aware that the twins were grasping at Hippogriff feathers.
"But maybe you saw something?" George pressed on stubbornly, refusing to give up the ghost so easily.
"Ian's right, George," Fred interjected. "He's only just gotten here. And even if someone's already sat the exam, it wouldn't matter, professors make different versions each year. Could be a simple Boggart one minute and a cursed wardrobe full of Acromantulas the next."
Fred, despite being only one year above Ian, clearly knew far more about exam schematics than most third-year students, probably thanks to the extensive "research" he'd done while plotting to cheat.
"If only they'd just ask us to blast a few Dungbombs for extra credit..." George sighed dreamily, clearly hoping for a miracle.
"Maybe we could fake dragonpox and get out of it altogether," Fred suggested, eyes gleaming with mischief. George perked up at once, as though the heavens had parted and offered him salvation.
Neither of them, of course, had realised that the new Defence professor was none other than the old Headmaster himself.
Ian had no intention of correcting them. In fact, inspiration struck him at that very moment. He was suddenly reminded of a "product" he'd developed recently that would be perfect for situations like this.
"Need a few Instant Puking Pastilles?" Ian offered smoothly, slipping into his role as a budding prankster-salesman. "They're part of a new line I just enchanted."
Truth be told, Ian had grown considerably bolder since the start of term.
The invention was, in fact, a repurposed version of a prank the twins hadn't even thought of yet, borrowed, so to speak, through certain... spectral means. After all, he had met more than one ghostly mischief-maker in the Twilight Realm who had plenty of ideas to share.
"Instant Puking Pastilles? The name alone's a masterpiece!" George looked like he might burst with excitement as Ian pulled out a generous handful of sweets.
There were jelly beans, toffees, even chewing charms, cleverly crafted to suit every sweet tooth at Hogwarts. Ian had paid particular attention to flavour variety. Product appeal was essential, after all.
But beyond the taste, each sweet had a specific function. The defining feature of the Instant Puking Pastilles was their dual-colour design, two magically-infused sections, each with its own effect.
One colour triggered the 'illness', the other served as the antidote. Purple and orange-yellow for vomiting, red and grey for nosebleeds, green and blue for violent coughing, it was an elegant balance of chaos and control.
"Merlin's beard, Ian, you're a genius! I completely take back every sarcastic thing I said earlier, you're the finest mind Hogwarts has seen since... since whoever invented Skiving Snackboxes!" Fred was practically worshipping the sweets in his palm.
"Look at this, Fred! Why can't you come up with ideas like this?" George jabbed his twin sharply in the ribs.
"If Ian hadn't nicked the idea from my future brain, how do you know I wouldn't have come up with something even better in a few years?" Fred snapped, ever defiant. Then he glanced longingly at Ian and sighed, "Why can't I have a brain like yours?"
Even Ian, thick-skinned and usually impervious to praise, felt his ears go a bit red.
(To Be Continued…)
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