"What's going on? Alexander—did he already finish and hand in his paper? He must have cheated!"
"Impossible! It hasn't even been ten minutes! I haven't even finished the second question yet! And that question isn't even in the book—where could he have copied it from?"
"Yeah! And I saw smoke coming from his pen. It's just too exaggerated!"
The sixth-grade students around looked at Devillo's actions in disbelief. For a moment, they thought they were seeing things.
Who could possibly complete such a N.E.W.T.-level difficult exam in just ten minutes?
Even the invigilator, Professor Quirrell, was stunned.
He forgot to stop the students from whispering, simply staring blankly as he took the parchment Devillo handed over.
The paper was warm, almost as if it had just been freshly baked.
One could even smell a slight burnt odor rising from it.
But Devillo didn't care about this at all.
He had expected such a reaction.
In fact, he didn't intend to attract attention—he simply wanted to finish quickly since the exam rules didn't allow consulting materials.
Finishing early would give him more time for his own activities.
Moreover, the speed was an effect of the [Exam King] entry.
At this moment, as long as there was an exam paper in front of Devillo, he would feel an intense urge to complete it immediately.
Thus, he dared not look at other people's papers—not because of the rules, but because either they wrote too slowly, making him want to snatch the paper and finish it for them, or they made too many mistakes, causing him physical discomfort.
However, one person's unusual behavior caught Devillo's attention.
Marcus wasn't as shocked as the others. Instead, he stared closely at Professor Quirrell throughout the whole process.
Devillo didn't know why Marcus acted like that, but he thought, Quirrell will probably report to Azkaban after class anyway, so he didn't bother to think too much about it.
Thus, under everyone's astonished gaze, Devillo calmly returned to his seat.
However, he soon realized that, because he had come directly from the hospital that morning, he had forgotten to bring any books.
Helplessly, he returned to the podium and asked Quirrell if he could borrow a textbook.
At this moment, Quirrell was still in shock.
His eyes remained fixed on the parchment, almost absent-minded as he handed the book to Devillo with trembling fingers.
His gaze never left the exam paper, reading word by word.
The more he read, the more shock welled up inside him.
The exam contained complex magical theories, questions that required long and careful study to answer—and yet every question was answered almost perfectly.
Quirrell's fingers weren't merely trembling anymore; they twitched slightly.
It wasn't just surprise.
It was admiration—and a deep, almost painful incomprehension.
Each answer demonstrated not only high understanding but also an extraordinary creativity.
Some solutions even contained insights and methods Quirrell himself had never seen before.
Although he was Voldemort's follower, without much true dedication to teaching, he could not help but feel deeply shaken by the brilliance displayed before him.
A rare treasure.
That was what this student represented.
Quirrell smiled bitterly.
Isn't my loyalty supposed to be to my master? How could I have such feelings for a student? Heavens, how could I even think of betraying my master's will!
A sudden chill went through Quirrell.
He realized, horrified, that he had wavered—if only slightly—in his loyalty.
This was dangerous.
He thought of his master's brutal punishments and shuddered in terror.
I must never betray my master! he reminded himself.
Still...
As Quirrell finished reading the last line, he put the paper down slowly.
His gaze lingered on Devillo's name at the top of the paper for a long time.
Complicated emotions filled his heart: admiration for this rare genius, but also sorrow, knowing what fate likely awaited him.
"This child is far better than I was at his age," Quirrell thought, feeling an unexpected sadness.
He glanced at Devillo, who was reading intently.
For the first time in a long while, Quirrell felt a faint trace of compassion.
However, what he didn't realize was that, just at the moment when he showed that emotion, a figure flashed quickly past the window outside.
Meanwhile, Wells muttered under his breath, "Tch, he must have scribbled it randomly. How could anyone seriously finish that many questions in ten minutes? Especially so many essay questions! He must have written casually and handed it in."
Wells desperately wanted to believe that.
But when he saw Quirrell's expression of astonishment, he hesitated.
Could that kid have really written that well?
He quickly shook his head to erase such an absurd thought.
"No way! Kids should obediently go back to first-year classes! What are they doing in the higher grades anyway?"
Wells repeated that thought to himself, refusing to believe the alternative.
—
While Devillo quietly recited "Encountering Faceless Monsters" for the seventh time, the class bell finally rang.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
The exam was over!
Quirrell waved his wand, and all the exam papers flew off the desks and landed neatly on the podium.
"Alright, everyone. The exam is over. I hope you'll review the class content well afterward. Uh, um... yes, one more thing..." Quirrell paused.
He hesitated slightly, glancing toward the window—but there was nothing unusual outside.
He let out a sigh of relief.
Then, he gently tapped a particular exam paper with his wand.
Instantly, copies of the paper flowed out like water, quickly flying toward each student's desk.
Each student received a copy—except Devillo, whose desk remained empty.
Confused, Devillo wondered: Quirrell doesn't plan to assign me homework?
Quirrell cleared his throat.
"Everyone, take a good look at this paper. It is the standard—no, the most standard answer to this exam. It even contains innovation beyond my expectations.
It's extremely rare. Honestly, I never imagined I would see such answers from a student. It is truly my good fortune as a teacher."
His sharp voice held real relief and pride.
The classroom immediately buzzed with discussion.
Students exchanged glances, picked up the papers, and started guessing who the author was.
"Heavens! How could someone write so much! This is almost three thousand words!"
"This... this is even more professional than the N.E.W.T. teaching guide I bought!"
"Yeah, and most of the people near me didn't even fill a quarter of the page... could it be..."
Slowly, the students' gazes shifted toward the one person who had handed his paper in ridiculously early.
Wells stared at Devillo in disbelief.
Could it really be him?
As realization dawned on the class, Quirrell smiled faintly at Devillo.
"Devillo Alexander," Quirrell announced, "is the most excellent student I have encountered in my seven years at Hogwarts—and my one year of teaching!"
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