Monday Morning.
The first class of the day was Muggle Studies for the fifth years.
Melvin stood beside the podium, dressed in a grey-blue shirt layered with a woolen vest, sleeves rolled halfway up. One hand rested on the desk, his body leaning slightly against it, giving off a relaxed, almost languid air.
His dark brown trousers accentuated his long, lean legs. At first glance, his outfit wasn't as eye-catching as usual, but it perfectly highlighted his tall, upright frame, making it hard not to stare.
Over the past few weeks, the students had grown accustomed to their professor's distinctive Muggle style. Some of the witches had started noting the cut and details of his clothes. Students from Muggle families were already planning to shop for similar outfits over the holidays, while those from wizarding families were experimenting with comparable pairings.
Melvin's gaze swept the room. "It's been half a month since the term started. Over the past two weeks, we've covered this year's new material and reviewed the foundational knowledge from third-year Muggle Studies. I trust you've all adjusted to my teaching style…"
A ripple of whispers spread through the class.
Percy Weasley, seated in the front row, was flipping through his notes.
Pages upon pages, meticulously organized, held his transcribed notes from last week's third-year review. Charts, tables, and tree diagrams crowded the paper. Complex terms had been shortened to abbreviations, and key concepts reduced to isolated words, fragmented to the point of barely forming sentences. Yet, a single glance at these prompts was enough to recall the full explanations in his mind.
As he recalled Professor Levent guiding them through the review, Percy's focus drifted slightly.
Not everything in the textbook was useful. Some sections were pure knowledge, while others—seemingly important case studies—were just supplementary reading. The material was categorized by difficulty: standard points, key points, common mistakes, and tricky areas. By importance, it split into exam topics and non-exam topics, with further distinctions between points tested last year (unlikely to repeat) and those untested for five or six years (prime candidates for reappearing).
Percy prided himself on being an excellent student, skilled at studying and acing exams. His grades and the praise from classmates and professors were proof of that. But until now, he'd never considered revising and preparing for exams this way.
"Our review progress is a bit slower than I expected, but we've got plenty of time," Melvin said, flipping open the textbook. He pulled out a stack of parchment exams, tapping them twice on the desk to align them neatly. "Before we move on to fourth-year material, I've prepared a short in-class quiz to gauge how well you've grasped the review content. The grade doesn't matter—what's important is identifying your gaps."
A chorus of groans erupted from the class.
The students protested that the professor's ambush was far too sudden.
Percy gripped his quill, his palms sweating with nerves.
With a casual bend of his fingers, Melvin knocked twice on the stack of exams with his knuckles. The papers flew out like owls bursting from their roost, fluttering down to land neatly on each student's desk.
"You have two class periods to complete the exam. Time starts now."
"…"
The timeframe was generous enough.
Percy exhaled, resisting the urge to dive into the paper immediately. Instead, he dipped his quill into the ink bottle—knowing it took about thirty seconds for the nib to soak up enough ink—and used the wait to skim the exam, getting a sense of the questions to streamline his answers.
It was a test-taking trick he'd honed.
"Multiple Choice (1 point each, 15 points total): Select the correct answer from the four options provided and write its letter in the parentheses."
"Multi-Select Questions: Each question has at least two correct answers. Over-selecting, under-selecting, or choosing incorrectly scores zero points."
"True or False (1 point each, 15 points total): Mark 'T' for true or 'F' for false in the parentheses."
All multiple-choice or true-or-false—no time-consuming essays or even fill-in-the-blanks.
"The question count's manageable. I should finish…" Percy murmured.
He pulled out his quill and began, only to realize it wasn't that simple.
The multiple-choice questions were devilishly tricky. Two of the four options could be ruled out quickly, but the remaining two were so close in meaning and relevance that he had to mentally review all related knowledge to pick the right one.
"Which of the following does NOT fit the definition of Muggle public transportation: Knight Bus, Hogwarts Express, Portkey, Thestral-drawn carriage."
For the first time, Percy found multiple-choice harder than essays.
The multi-select questions, with their four options, should've been easier in theory, but they were even more agonizing. Every answer felt like a trap, leaving him second-guessing himself.
Did I pick too many options for this one?
Did I miss one on the last question?
Percy muddled through, battling his doubts, until he reached the final question. He read the prompt, checked the options, and tried to eliminate the wrong ones… only to fail.
"Huh?"
Percy froze. "This question… why does it feel like all four options are correct?"
He reread the prompt and options carefully.
Yes, the correct answer was to select all of them.
"Wait—does that mean I under-selected on the earlier three-option questions?"
Percy sat stunned. It was early September, not yet chilly, but a cold shiver ran through him.
His quill left an inky blotch on the paper, as if Professor Levent's dark, insidious malice had seeped into it.
"Hiss…"
Similar gasps echoed around the classroom as other students hit the same wall.
Melvin sat behind the teacher's desk, his vantage point perfect for observing the room. He noted Ravenclaw's Head Girl, Penelope Clearwater, her brows knitted tightly; Ravenclaw's Head Boy, Robert Hilliard, grinding his teeth; and redheaded Percy Weasley, looking pale as a ghost…
These were the top students. Only those with a solid grasp of the material would be this tormented by the questions.
Students with shakier foundations missed the traps in the options entirely, picking answers without a second thought.
The good news? This was the fifth-year advanced class, full of diligent, high-achieving students—almost all of them were visibly struggling.
Melvin listened to their sighs, savoring their tortured expressions, a warm sense of fulfillment washing over him as an educator.
"Time's almost up," he announced.
"…"
At his prompt, the class stiffened, then frantically scribbled answers, their pace quickening as hesitation gave way to urgency.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the exam.
As a professor of impeccable integrity, Melvin didn't drag the class past the bell, respecting the students' mealtime. The moment the chime sounded, he stopped them from writing and cast a swift Accio to collect the papers.
The bell faded.
In the classroom, the thirty advanced students sat dazed, eyes vacant, quills still clutched in their hands. Even the ones who usually loved comparing answers post-exam were too drained to care.
Melvin strode out of the classroom, his steps brisk and decisive.
"Professor Levent."
A voice called from behind, startlingly close.