“A simple diagnostic test covering all the theoretical knowledge you have learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts since entering Hogwarts.”
Hermes spoke as casually as though he were discussing the weather.
“The purpose is to determine how much of the material from your previous five years you still remember.
I also included two questions from the sixth-year curriculum in the final section.”
He looked at the students with an almost innocent expression.
“Have you never taken a diagnostic test before?”
The announcement struck the classroom like a bomb.
The students, already bewildered, immediately burst into an uproar.
“A test?”
“On the first day of term?”
“It covers all five years!”
“No one warned us about this!”
Hermes ignored the frantic whispers.
He merely tapped his knuckles against the stack of parchment resting on the lectern.
“This is your first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the sixth year.
Before I decide how to teach you, I need to understand each student’s current level.”
As the noise gradually died down, his expression became more serious.
“Sixth year is an important turning point.
From this point onward, you will study Defense Against the Dark Arts in far greater depth.
Without a solid foundation, you will struggle to keep up with the more advanced material.”
The students exchanged uneasy glances.
After a moment, one of them cautiously raised a hand.
“Professor, what happens if we don’t score well?”
“Anyone who receives less than Exceeds Expectations will copy the correct theoretical principles behind each of their mistakes one hundred times.”
A kind smile appeared on Hermes’s face.
To the students, however, it looked positively sinister.
Unfortunately, he had not finished.
“As for anyone who fails…”
Hermes deliberately paused, allowing his gaze to pass over their apprehensive faces before continuing in an unhurried tone.
“You will write an essay describing how you spent your summer holiday.”
Several students blinked.
That did not sound particularly frightening.
Then Hermes added, “And you will read it aloud in front of the entire class.”
The tiny spark of hope that had just appeared in their eyes vanished.
“After all,” he continued pleasantly, “I am deeply curious to know what sort of eventful holiday could make you forget everything your previous professors spent five years teaching you.”
The classroom fell silent.
The lively atmosphere from moments earlier disappeared completely.
Even the sunlight spilling through the windows seemed to lose its warmth.
The students stared at the impeccably dressed young professor behind the lectern, unable to reconcile his refined appearance with the cruelty of the punishment he had just announced.
But standing in front of the entire class and publicly recounting their summer holidays?
That was not punishment.
That was social death.
Several students immediately opened their textbooks and began frantically turning pages, hoping to cram in whatever knowledge they could before the test began.
They had barely read a sentence when every book in the classroom rose into the air.
The students watched helplessly as the textbooks flew toward the front of the room and arranged themselves in a neat stack beside the lectern.
“For future reference, your desks are to remain clear of all unrelated materials during examinations,” Hermes said.
“The N.E.W.T.s will not be open-book.”
He flicked his wand, and the stack of test papers separated.
A sheet of parchment flew to each student and landed squarely in the center of every desk.
“The test begins now.”
With that, Hermes casually tossed his wand aside.
Before it could touch the floor, it vanished into thin air.
The students reluctantly picked up their quills and began writing.
Just as Hermes had promised, every question was based on theoretical knowledge they had already studied.
At least, technically speaking.
Most of the questions were not difficult once the traps hidden in their wording had been identified.
The problem was that those traps were exceedingly difficult to spot.
One student stared at the parchment before him with hollow eyes, almost wishing he could remove his brain and shake the correct answer out of it.
Every question looked familiar.
In most of the multiple-choice section, he could eliminate two of the answers immediately.
Unfortunately, the remaining two always seemed equally plausible.
Sometimes both were technically correct, but only one was appropriate for the exact situation described in the question.
Refusing to surrender, he reread the instructions at the top of the parchment.
Each multiple-choice question has one, and only one, correct answer.
After confirming that he could not simply choose both, the student released a long, miserable sigh.
For the rest of the lesson, the only sounds in the classroom were the scratching of quills across parchment and Hermes’s soft footsteps as he moved between the rows.
No one whispered.
No one dared glance at a neighbor’s paper.
When Hermes announced that only fifteen minutes remained, several students immediately began to sweat.
Their damp fingers slipped against their quills as they wrote even faster.
In addition to the multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank sections, the test contained several short-answer questions and a final long-form question that occupied an entire sheet of parchment.
Fifteen minutes vanished far too quickly.
The bell rang.
While its chime was still echoing through the stone corridors, Hermes returned to the lectern and raised one hand.
Every quill in the room trembled.
The ink at their tips stopped flowing, and a faint light appeared around the edges of the test papers.
“Time is up.
Quills down.”
Before anyone could protest, an invisible force lifted the parchment from every desk.
Their crisp rustling resembled dry leaves tumbling across the ground.
One after another, they flew to the lectern and arranged themselves into a perfectly neat stack.
The students remained in their seats, utterly drained.
The test seemed to have extracted all their energy along with their answers.
Hermes straightened the stack before looking up.
“House prefects, come to my office after dinner to collect the marked papers.”
He tapped the parchment lightly against the lectern.
“By tomorrow, I expect everyone to have prepared a correction notebook.
Those who fail will also submit their holiday essays.”
A collective shudder passed through the room.
“That will be all.
Class dismissed.”
Hermes gathered the unused test papers for his next class.
Thanks to Professor Quirrell teaching the first through fourth years, his schedule that day was not especially demanding.
Once his morning lessons were over, he could return to his office and have Calcifer mark the papers.
There was no reason for Hermes to do every tedious task himself.
The students did not truly recover until they had put a considerable distance between themselves and the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Then the corridor erupted with anxious discussion.
“Nando, what did you choose for the question about dealing with Inferi?”
“Reducto.
What did you put?”
“But Reducto only destroys them physically.
If you don’t damage the body enough, couldn’t the remaining pieces continue moving?”
“The best answer was probably Incendio.
Fire is the most reliable way to destroy Inferi.”
“Wouldn’t Impedimenta work as well?”
“It would slow them down, but it wouldn’t be nearly as effective as a fire spell.”
Another student suddenly turned pale.
“Then what am I supposed to do?
I chose Stupefy.”
The students around him stopped walking and stared.
“Did you spend the entire summer playing until your brain stopped working?”
“Stupefy is meant to incapacitate living targets.
Inferi are corpses reanimated by the Dark Arts.”
“It might knock one backward, but how could it render an Inferius unconscious?”
“They don’t have consciousness in the first place!”
“…”
The unfortunate student’s face slowly lost all color.
At that moment, he could already see his immediate future.
He was going to spend the evening writing about his summer holiday.