Chapter 35: The Malice of Professor Lewynter
Monday morning.
The first period was fifth-year Muggle Studies.
Melvin stood beside the podium, wearing a wool vest over a gray-blue shirt, sleeves half rolled up. One hand rested on the desk, his body slightly leaning against it, his expression relaxed and languid.
His straight, slender legs were accentuated by his dark brown and black trousers. At first glance, his attire seemed plain, not as striking as his usual outfits but it flattered his tall frame perfectly, making him look poised and commanding.
Over the past few weeks, students had grown used to his unique "Muggle instruction" style. Some young witches had begun to notice the design and cut of his clothing. The Muggle-born students planned to buy new outfits during the holidays, and even wizard-born students were starting to imitate the look.
Melvin glanced around the classroom.
"It's been two weeks since term began. In that time, we've covered this year's new material and reviewed the Muggle Studies fundamentals from third year. I believe everyone has adjusted to this teaching method…"
A whisper broke the silence.
Percy Weasley sat in the front row, staring at his notes
more than a dozen densely filled pages, neatly arranged with the core third-year material he had copied last week. Columns, tables, and tree diagrams covered the pages. Most complex nouns were replaced with abbreviations, and concepts that required memorization had been reduced to a few keywords. The grammar was so poor that it could barely form a sentence, but when Percy read it, full explanations surfaced naturally in his mind.
His thoughts drifted, recalling Professor Lewynter's teaching methods.
Not everything in the textbook was useful. Some passages contained real knowledge, others were mere reading material disguised as examples. Lewynter divided the subject into general knowledge, key points, common errors, difficult concepts, and even into "testable" and "non-testable" categories based on importance. He pointed out topics that had been on last year's exams (and likely wouldn't appear again) and those that hadn't been tested in five or six years (and thus were highly likely to appear).
Percy considered himself an excellent student disciplined, methodical, and highly capable. His grades and the praise from peers and teachers proved it. Yet he had never imagined studying for exams in this way.
"The review process is slower than I expected, but thankfully, we still have time."
Melvin opened the textbook, drew out a pile of rough wood-pulp exam papers, and stacked them neatly on the desk.
"Before we begin the fourth-year review, I've prepared a simple surprise quiz to assess your grasp of the material. The score isn't important it's meant to help identify and correct your weaknesses."
A collective groan rose from the class.
Students murmured that the professor's "attack" was far too sudden.
Percy's palms were slick with nervous sweat as he gripped his quill.
Professor Lewynter narrowed his fingers and tapped the stack of papers twice with his knuckles. Instantly, the sheets shot into the air in a flurry like owls bursting from a shed and landed neatly on each student's desk.
"You have two hours to complete the exam. Start the timer."
"…"
There was still plenty of time.
Percy exhaled, resisting the urge to rush. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and waited half a minute as it absorbed the ink time he used to scan the questions and mentally prepare his approach.
It was his own little exam technique.
"Single-choice questions (1 point each, 15 points total): Choose the correct answer from the four options and write the corresponding letter in parentheses."
"Multiple-choice questions: Each has at least two correct answers. Choosing too many, too few, or incorrect options will earn no points."
"True/False questions (1 point each, 15 points total): Write 'T' for true or 'F' for false after each statement."
All multiple-choice and quick-response questions no essays, no lengthy analyses, not even fill-in-the-blanks.
"It's not a long test… I should be able to finish this easily," Percy thought.
He began to write but soon realized it wasn't easy at all.
The multiple-choice questions were deceptively cruel. Two wrong answers could be eliminated quickly, but the remaining two were almost identical so nuanced that only a deep, precise understanding of the material could separate them.
"Which of the following does not fit the definition of Muggle public transportation?
Knight Bus, Express Train, Portkey, Thestral Carriage."
For the first time, Percy found multiple-choice questions harder than essay questions.
In theory, four-choice questions should be easier but in practice, they only sowed confusion. After each answer, he couldn't stop second-guessing himself:
Did I mark too many options on that one?
Did I miss two on the previous question?
Percy battled through, stubbornly forcing himself to the final question
and froze.
"Why… do all four answers look correct?"
He reread the question. Checked again.
And confirmed the right answer was to select all of them.
"Wait, did I miss the first three as well?"
Cold sweat ran down his spine. Though September hadn't yet turned chilly, he suddenly felt ice creeping over his skin.
His quill dripped ink onto the exam sheet dark, spreading blotches like the deep, quiet malice of Professor Lewynter.
"Shhh!"
All around, similar gasps and muffled groans filled the classroom.
Melvin sat behind his desk, enjoying the perfect view.
Through the room he saw Penelope Clearwater frowning, Ravenclaw prefect Robert Hilliard grinding his teeth, and red-haired Percy Weasley pale as parchment.
All top students.
Only those with true mastery of the material would suffer this deeply.
The weaker ones, oblivious to the traps, simply circled whatever seemed right.
Fortunately, this was an advanced fifth-year class most students were diligent and studious. Which meant, naturally, nearly everyone was in agony.
Melvin listened to their sighs, quietly pleased. A serene satisfaction washed over him as he watched them struggle.
"Time's almost up," he said softly.
The class froze, then frantically scribbled faster.
The bell rang.
As a morally upright professor, Melvin never delayed lunch or held students past time. At the sound of the bell, he stopped everyone immediately and cast a quick levitation charm to gather all the papers in one swoop.
The bell fell silent.
Thirty fifth-year students sat slumped, dazed, still holding their quills.
The top performers, usually eager to compare answers after tests, now looked hollow and drained.
Melvin strode out of the classroom briskly, not breaking stride.
"Professor Lewynter!"
A voice called out behind him soft, trembling, and just a little fearful.
(End of Chapter)