As the aftershocks of the first week's placement test gradually died down, a new week began—and with it, William's real teaching officially got underway.
That, in turn, caused Professor Shafiq's reputation among the middle years to warm up in a subtle way. Before this, the third-, fourth-, and fifth-years who had been tormented by the surprise test had harbored intense resentment toward him, and privately complained that the new professor "never did anything by the book."
Some even questioned whether his expertise was limited—claiming he could only explain things by reading off model answers.
But once William began proper lessons, those doubts vanished almost immediately.
Whether it was the way he dissected defensive theory, or the precise spells he demonstrated offhandedly, the new professor displayed a level of professionalism that was hard to argue with.
His lectures were clear, well-structured, and sharply focused. He also knew how to weave dry theory into dangerous, real-world cases. That was the very heart of Defence Against the Dark Arts.
As students were drawn in by the quality of the content, their earlier bad impressions from the placement test faded. In their place came a grudging awe:
This professor actually knows what he's doing.
At the same time, however, William's overall reputation across the school shifted in a new direction:
High pressure.
From first year to seventh, almost everyone began to feel an unprecedented weight of homework and revision.
Because William set one ironclad rule: the first five minutes of every lesson would be a random oral quiz on the previous class.
It didn't sound complicated—just set aside time to review.
But for Hogwarts students, who were used to coasting in class, stitching essays together from whatever scraps they could find, and only cramming like maniacs a week before finals… this rhythm—every lesson feels like a pop quiz... was pure torture. They couldn't adapt overnight.
In truth, the first- and second-years had been warned.
Because they hadn't had placement tests, their formal lessons started earlier. At the end of the last class of the first week, William had smiled and told them, plainly, that "there will be questions next lesson."
But back then, their attention had been completely captured by the dark creatures and spells he'd shown them. And with William's mild, refined manner, they naïvely assumed it was just polite teacher talk—and let it drift out of their minds.
Until Monday morning.
In the first-year Defence Against the Dark Arts class shared by Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw—
When William entered right on the bell, the first-years were still relaxed and cheerful. Some of the more outgoing students even waved at him, excited to see what fun thing he would show them today.
William returned their greetings with his usual pleasant smile and a nod.
But just as the students stared expectantly at the front, waiting for a dramatic opening—
William simply swept his gaze across the room, as if searching for something.
"Mr Hopkins."
He suddenly called on a Hufflepuff boy.
Wayne Hopkins blinked, then stood with a mix of surprise and nameless dread. "Professor?"
"Please answer," William said, his voice gentle and clear. "If you're camping outdoors and run into an imp causing trouble, how do you deal with it? Give two approaches—one using a wand, and one without."
Silence fell.
Wayne opened his mouth, but his mind went blank.
They had covered this last lesson… but everyone had been crowding around the cage, excitedly watching the chattering grey-brown imps. Even when William explained the theory, they hadn't really refocused.
"Er… with… with a Stunning Spell?" Wayne stammered. "And without a wand… run?"
William's smile didn't change, but there was a hint of regret in his eyes.
"Imps aren't dangerous. A Stunning Spell is an overreaction. As for running… they'll chase you and throw rocks."
He pressed a hand down gently, signaling Wayne to sit. "After class, review your notes from last lesson properly, Mr Hopkins."
Wayne barely had time to exhale before William's voice rang out again:
"Hufflepuff—two points."
"I distinctly remember saying at the end of last lesson that there would be questions today. Clearly, some people did not take my words seriously."
Only then did the first-years truly jolt awake.
That sentence they'd filtered out—there will be questions next lesson—wasn't a courtesy. It was a warning.
"Rustle—rustle—"
A frenzy of page-turning erupted as everyone tried to cram last lesson into their heads in seconds.
"Snap."
William flicked his wand lightly.
Every book in the classroom was pressed shut as though invisible hands had done it, closing in perfect unison.
A few students were too slow and got their fingers pinched, muffling small yelps.
"Isn't it a little late to start reading now?"
Hands clasped behind his back, William strolled unhurriedly down the aisle between desks.
"Miss Smith… tell me…"
"Mr Boot… explain…"
He called on student after student. Some answered but haltingly. Others flushed and stared down at their desks.
The atmosphere snapped from light and cheerful to suffocatingly tense. Everyone hunched their shoulders, praying the professor's gaze would slide past them.
"Miss Ekm…."
When William reached the group of Ravenclaws, he stopped.
Marietta Edgecombe shuddered. Under her friend Cho Chang's encouraging look, she rose trembling.
"Answer the question Mr Hopkins couldn't."
"Y-yes, Professor." Marietta drew a deep breath, forcing her voice steadier. "For imps—without a wand, you can pick up whatever they throw... like Wizarding crackers or stones, and throw it back. That scares them off."
"And with a wand, you can use the Knockback Jinx to stun or drive it back, then throw it into the nearest cage… or a goblin hole."
William nodded, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Correct. Sit."
As Marietta sat, she realized her palms were drenched with sweat.
Still shaken, she leaned toward Cho and whispered, "Thank Merlin. If I hadn't listened to you and reviewed that part last night, I'd be dead."
Then, watching William return to the front, she muttered indignantly, "But… Professor Shafiq should've given Ravenclaw two points. I got it right."
"Don't bother," Cho whispered back, analyzing quietly. "Look at his attitude. He probably thinks this is a basic question we should be able to answer. Getting it right is the minimum. Getting it wrong is what deserves punishment."
At the front, William turned to the class. The first-years looked like a row of quails—small, stiff, and terrified.
"Given how poor that questioning was, it's clear many of you don't have your basic knowledge firmly in place."
William sighed, then announced mercilessly, "Next lesson, I will quiz you on these topics again—along with the new material we cover today."
"I hope you can surprise me then. Not horrify me."
With the questioning finally over, the classroom collectively exhaled. Shoulders sagged with relief.
Thank Merlin, at least they wouldn't have to stand up and embarrass themselves again… and lose House points.
But just as William was about to open his book, he paused, as if remembering something, and turned back.
"Oh, right."
He smiled at the faces that had just relaxed and twisted the knife.
"If I remember correctly… I still haven't checked last lesson's practical spellwork, have I?"
A chorus of despairing groans filled the room.
William ignored it and continued calmly. "Red Sparks are an excellent emergency spell. If you're in danger and can't get out, firing them into the air is one of the most effective ways to attract rescue. This is important."
"All of you. Stand. Wands out."
Two minutes later—
Amid a chaotic mess of wand-waving, several wands produced only a few pathetic wisps of black smoke, or a couple of sparks that vanished instantly—nowhere near the standard for an aerial distress signal.
At the same time, in the Great Hall, the already-shrunken Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw House hourglasses sank a little further, their gemstones dropping with a bright, merciless clink-clink-clink.
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