"Yes, it is rather strange!" Behind Professor Marchbanks, a lively-looking wizard in a garish plaid shirt chimed in:
"I remember Ogden made a prophecy a few months ago—said Dumbledore would live to at least a hundred and fifty… Didn't expect even his predictions to be off sometimes…"
A group of elderly witches and wizards chattered away, dissecting that "prophecy" and "Ogden" in great detail, completely ignoring Headmaster Jon Hart standing nearby.
Jon found himself standing there awkwardly, unsure how to respond.
Fortunately, it was Professor Marchbanks—the short, hunched woman leading the group—who finally turned her attention back to him.
She looked him up and down, frowning slightly as if trying to recall something. "Ah, Headmaster Hart… you look remarkably young… so young you barely seem like a fully qualified wizard…"
She muttered thoughtfully, "And yet I can't remember… which year you took your N.E.W.T.s. In the past hundred years, I've missed O.W.L.s invigilation twice… but I've never missed a N.E.W.T.s examination. I should remember every candidate who's ever taken them…"
Jon was momentarily speechless.
Luckily, before he could respond, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall arrived, slightly out of breath.
"Oh, Professor Marchbanks!" McGonagall called out.
"If I'm not mistaken, you're McGonagall from the Highlands!" Marchbanks said excitedly. "Summer of 1953, during the N.E.W.T.s—I personally examined you in Transfiguration and Charms. You turned a vase into a tabby cat… the markings on that cat were the finest I've ever seen…"
"It's an honor, Professor Marchbanks," McGonagall replied with a polite smile.
At the same time, she muttered under her breath, just quietly enough not to be heard, "Every time we meet, you say exactly the same thing, word for word…"
McGonagall's arrival neatly resolved Jon's predicament.
The elderly witches and wizards immediately gathered around her, enthusiastically reminiscing about the details of past N.E.W.T.s exams… and Jon smoothly handed over the responsibility of hosting them.
He made his escape.
...
However, after only a few steps, as Jon reached the corridor behind the Great Hall, he ran into Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts, coming the other way.
Filch was dragging a large sack behind him. Seeing the new Headmaster, he quickly stopped and bowed respectfully.
"Good evening, Headmaster Hart."
"Good evening, Mr. Filch," Jon replied with a nod. Then, glancing curiously at the sack, he asked, "What's in there?"
"Dried fox droppings… and African Niffler urine…" Filch grinned, revealing his yellowed teeth.
Jon's expression twitched slightly.
"Confiscated from a sixth-year Ravenclaw and Harold Dingle, a sixth-year Slytherin," Filch continued gleefully. "They were selling it to other students at high prices, claiming it was Dragon's Claw Powder and Baruffio's Brain Elixir…"
Dragon's Claw Powder, made from the ground claws of a Norwegian Ridgeback, could sharpen the mind for hours, while Baruffio's Brain Elixir was an expensive potion that enhanced memory to its peak for ten hours.
Naturally, both were strictly prohibited during the O.W.L.s.
"I only had to take them to my office for detention, and they confessed right away—fox droppings and African Niffler urine!" Filch added with satisfaction. "Disgusting stuff. I'm about to throw it out."
"Much appreciated, Mr. Filch," Jon said with a faint, helpless smile.
Then he added, "Make sure their detention lasts a while."
"Absolutely!" Filch beamed at once.
...
This minor incident did nothing to slow Jon down.
He continued toward the Headmaster's Office.
But when he reached the door, he noticed it was slightly ajar—and immediately understood who had come.
Pushing the badger-headed knocker gently, he heard Astoria's voice from inside—
"Jon… I'm not sure if it's appropriate for me to come here right now…" Her voice sounded uncertain. "But I'm sorry… the exam is tomorrow, and I'm really nervous…"
"It's fine," Jon said with a gentle smile. "There's nothing inappropriate about it."
"But… when I came in… I think Peeves spotted me in the corner…" Astoria said, her face pale.
"It's just Peeves," Jon said dismissively. He turned toward a portrait and called softly, "Mrs. Burke… Mrs. Burke…"
"Yes, Headmaster?" The witch in the portrait, dressed in dark green robes, opened her eyes.
"Please find Bloody Baron and ask him to keep Peeves in line for a while," Jon said calmly.
"Understood," she nodded, and quickly disappeared from the portrait.
Some color returned to Astoria's face.
"Oh, right…" Jon suddenly recalled what had happened earlier and asked, "You haven't bought anything recently… like Dragon's Claw Powder or Baruffio's Brain Elixir, have you?"
"I…" Astoria's expression shifted again. "Selwyn… gave me a small bottle this morning… said she spent a lot of money on it—Baruffio's Brain Elixir… but I swear, I wasn't planning to take it…"
"Relax." Jon couldn't help but smile at her reaction. "Just throw it away when you get back—it's fake."
"Fake?" Astoria blinked.
"Selwyn probably bought it from Harold Dingle—that silly girl got scammed," Jon said lightly. "But if you really want Baruffio's Brain Elixir, I can brew some overnight. There's still time."
"I think… I'll pass…" Astoria shook her head quickly.
"There's no need to be nervous," Jon said gently. "I just met Professor Marchbanks—she's overseeing the exams. She's a very principled witch. Just focus on making a good impression."
...
With Jon's steady reassurance, Astoria gradually relaxed.
"Oh—Jon," she said suddenly, just as their conversation was about to end. "Did Mother give you the last part of her memories?"