[Third Person Pov]
The time for exams began first thing the following morning, ushering in a palpable tension that settled over the castle like a heavy fog. Anxiety clung to the students as they filed into the examination hall, many of them promptly forgetting nearly everything they had tried to cram into their minds the night before. Whispered last-minute reminders and frantic page-flipping had vanished, replaced by stiff shoulders, nervous glances, and the relentless ticking of the enchanted clock above the doors.
At the start of the exam, every student was handed a special enchanted quill, one designed specifically to prevent cheating by refusing to write anything it sensed had not originated from the student's own knowledge. With that safeguard firmly in place, the first examination commenced: History of Magic.
Arthur had already answered most of the questions in his head before he even picked up his quill. He stared calmly at the parchment laid out before him, scanning each question with quiet confidence. After a moment, he dipped his quill into the ink bottle and began to write. His handwriting, refined through years of Merlin's exacting lessons, was neat, elegant, and precise. Line after line filled the parchment as he answered each question thoroughly and methodically, never once appearing rushed or uncertain.
Merlin, seated a short distance away, was no different. She wrote with an almost bored expression, her posture relaxed as her quill glided effortlessly across the page. Inwardly, however, she was faintly amused. 'I was present for almost all of these events,' she thought dryly, a hint of irony coloring her thoughts. The soft scratching of quill against parchment echoed steadily through the hall, broken only by the occasional sigh or shifting chair.
Lance, too, showed no outward signs of difficulty. His brow furrowed in brief concentration as he worked, but his answers came smoothly, supported by the same disciplined memorization techniques he shared with Arthur. Of the group of friends, the only one clearly struggling was Gwyneth.
She sat hunched over her desk, fingers threaded anxiously through her hair as she glared down at the questions. Her problem wasn't a lack of knowledge so much as doubt—she kept second-guessing herself, hesitating before committing ink to parchment. Unlike Arthur and Lance, she didn't possess their specialized memorization methods, and the uncertainty gnawed at her nerves. Still, she forced herself to push through, answering each question as best she could, determination slowly overcoming her anxiety.
…
After the written exam—which lasted well over an hour—the students were given a short break before being ushered into their next trial: Transfiguration, conducted by none other than Professor McGonagall herself.
The task was deceptively simple. Each student was required to transform a mouse into a snuffbox. Extra points would be awarded for elegance and creativity, while points would be deducted if any whiskers, tails, or other unmistakably mouse-like features remained.
"Sorry, little guy," Gwyneth muttered under her breath as she stared at the mouse on her desk. "But I've been practicing all day yesterday for this."
With a steadying breath, she raised her wand and performed a precise series of movements. The mouse squeaked once before dissolving into a shimmer of magic, reforming moments later into a beautiful mahogany snuffbox. Delicate carvings of roses and twisting plants adorned its surface, the craftsmanship both refined and intentional.
"Well done, Miss Ardene. What beautiful craftsmanship," Professor McGonagall commented approvingly as she inspected the result.
Gwyneth lit up instantly, a bright smile spreading across her face as she gave a small, respectful bow.
When it was Lance's turn, his transformation resulted in a polished silver snuffbox so smooth one could see their reflection mirrored perfectly across its surface. A finely detailed, coiling snake wrapped around the lid as its central design. McGonagall praised his work as well, congratulating him on a job well done as he bowed politely in response.
Arthur went last. With practiced ease, he completed the transformation, revealing a golden snuffbox that gleamed warmly under the classroom lights. His name was carved across the lid in an elegant, flowing signature, accented by carefully placed red rubies. The combination of gold and red was, of course, a deliberate tribute to his house.
"Remarkable work as always, Mr. King," Professor McGonagall said, a delighted smile slipping past her usually composed demeanor. Though she knew favoritism was unbecoming of an instructor, it was difficult not to show pride when it came to Arthur.
She was always filled with a quiet sense of satisfaction whenever she heard the other professors praising him among themselves—how he consistently excelled in every class, how he went out of his way to help his peers regardless of house affiliation, and how naturally he embodied the values she held in the highest regard.
Arthur King, without question, was someone any Head of House would be proud to claim.
When it was Merlin's turn to take the test, she merely flicked her wand with casual precision. The mouse shimmered briefly before transforming into a diamond-crested snuffbox, its surface adorned with glittering jewels that caught the light from every angle. Faceted gemstones sparkled brilliantly, casting fractured rainbows across the classroom. Professor McGonagall's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise as she examined the result more closely.
Merlin, of course, earned the highest amount of extra credit possible for the task, her transformation flawless in both execution and artistry.
…
The next exam was overseen by Professor Flitwick, and the Charms practical proved to be delightfully simple in concept. One by one, he called each student forward and instructed them to charm a pineapple into tap-dancing across his desk.
Gwyneth and Lance passed with flying colors, each producing a lively and obedient pineapple that clicked and tapped its way neatly from one end of the desk to the other. Their performances were efficient, well-controlled, and earned them warm praise from the professor.
Arthur, however, decided to be a little extra.
"Ready, Professor?" Arthur asked, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.
"Ho ho ho! Arthur, my boy, I can't wait to see what you have in store for me," Professor Flitwick replied cheerfully, eyes twinkling. "The floor is yours."
Arthur's grin only widened. With a sweeping motion of his wand over the pineapple and the desk, the space transformed entirely. Using the materials around him, Arthur constructed a full theatrical stage as if it had sprung straight out of a grand performance hall. Red velvet curtains unfurled from thin air, stage lights flickered to life overhead, and polished wooden floorboards replaced the desk's surface.
A spotlight beamed down as the curtains slowly parted, revealing a pineapple standing proudly at center stage. Thin arms and legs extended from its sides, and it was dressed impeccably in a bow tie, a top hat, and a small cane clutched confidently in one hand.
Professor Flitwick immediately burst into laughter.
With another flourish of Arthur's wand, jaunty music began to play, and the pineapple launched into an enthusiastic performance. It broke into a lively Irish tap dance, its thin, noodle-like legs flying everywhere as they tapped rhythmically against the stage. The pineapple swung its cane from side to side, spinning and hopping with remarkable coordination.
At one point, it tipped its hat toward the professor mid-step, drawing even more laughter from Flitwick. Arthur himself couldn't help snickering, clearly delighted by the spectacle as he continued to guide the performance.
Professor Flitwick clutched his stomach, belly-laughing as he clapped along to the beat, completely engrossed in the show. The pineapple finished with a dramatic jump and spin before removing its hat and bowing deeply toward the professor.
"Encore! Encore!" Flitwick cheered, his cheeks flushed red from laughing so hard.
Both Arthur and the pineapple bowed repeatedly in response. Arthur added a final flourish—applause erupted from nowhere, confetti rained down from above, and even roses appeared, tossed onto the stage from invisible admirers.
The pineapple caught one of the roses and pretended to smell it as the fabric closed around it. When the curtains opened once more, the pineapple's limbs and outfit were pulled neatly back into place, leaving behind nothing more than an ordinary, unmoving pineapple sitting quietly on the desk.
"Full points! Full points!" Professor Flitwick announced, wiping tears from his eyes. "I'll even add extra credit—you went far above and beyond. That was absolutely marvelous!"
Arthur merely rubbed the tip of his nose, unable to hide the smug pride written plainly across his face.
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