"What?! Umbridge led a team to take out another Death Eater? Is that for real?"
Edgar's voice exploded across the Hufflepuff table, forcing William to slide his plate farther away to avoid being sprayed by his spit.
The front page of today's The Daily Prophet read:
Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, Umbridge, Achieves Another Success—Successfully Kills a Death Eater.
"It's true. My uncle's second aunt's cousin's third daughter's husband works at the Ministry of Magic." A Gryffindor boy leaned over from the side, wearing a smug expression.
"There isn't even a photo. Who knows whether it's true?" A Ravenclaw girl shook her head, tapping the newspaper with her finger.
"Doesn't the paper say that the Death Eater used Fiendfyre to burn himself to death, leaving not even ashes behind?" the first boy retorted stubbornly, also tapping the newspaper.
There was indeed a line of small print beneath the article:
The Death Eater used Fiendfyre to burn himself to death in battle, leaving no remains.
"Fake, right? This is the twentieth time this month." Another voice joined the discussion. This time, it was a Hufflepuff boy.
"No matter how many Death Eaters there are, they can't withstand this kind of purge. Twenty a month means two hundred and forty a year. If this continues for a few more years…"
"Does You-Know-Who even have that many people under him?"
At the Hufflepuff table, Lynn held The Daily Prophet in one hand and his Magic Phone in the other, reading the message Lucius had sent him with a surprised expression.
He had already seen the front page of The Daily Prophet.
The article's wording was the same as always—"heroic," "decisive," "arrived at the scene at the first opportunity"—repeating the same handful of words over and over.
The article itself was slightly shorter than last time. Perhaps even the editor felt that writing too much would bore the readers.
But the photo was still the same one, merely taken from a different angle with a different background. Even Umbridge's expression had not changed. It was essentially identical to the "I'm the boss" look she had worn at Hogwarts.
However, what truly surprised Lynn was the message from Lucius.
[Platinum Gentleman]: The Daily Prophet is telling the truth this time. The Dark Lord just finished a meeting with the Death Eaters and said he wants to make the Ministry of Magic pay the price.
So, this time, a Death Eater really did die. It really was led by Umbridge, and it really was the work of the Ministry of Magic.
Lynn could only think, Good grief. The Ministry of Magic actually did something useful for once.
That Death Eater had been truly ruthless to choose self-immolation. It was obvious that he was a loyal Death Eater.
Fiendfyre was no ordinary fire. It was considered evil even among the Dark Arts.
It would not grant someone a quick death. It would devour them bit by bit—from skin to muscle, from muscle to bone, from bone to soul.
They would feel every inch of their skin burning, every nerve screaming, and every cell wailing.
Someone willing to commit suicide in such a manner possessed loyalty to Lord Voldemort that transcended fear, pain, and even death itself.
That noseless freak must be heartbroken, Lynn thought with a perverse sense of amusement.
The corners of Lynn's mouth rose as he picked up his Magic Phone and replied to Lucius.
Lynn: [When are you planning to retaliate against the Ministry of Magic?]
The message was sent, but Lucius did not reply.
Lynn could understand that it would not be good if the noseless one found out, so he was not in a rush.
Over the following days, Lynn sent Lucius messages every few days, asking when Lord Voldemort intended to retaliate against the Ministry of Magic.
But Lucius's replies always made Lynn feel as though he was being fobbed off.
"We are deliberating."
That was the first reply.
When Lynn saw it, the corners of his mouth twitched.
Is Lord Voldemort the type of person who likes to "deliberate"?
"We will reply as soon as there is news."
That was the second reply.
When Lynn saw it, he frowned.
This one was even more dismissive than the first. At least the first had included the action of "deliberating," while the second did not even contain an action.
Translated, it basically meant: Stop urging me. I'll tell you when there's news. When there isn't, asking is useless.
"Still deliberating."
That was the third reply.
When Lynn saw it, he nearly threw his phone and went to challenge Lucius to a duel.
Heaven help them, Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters really were deliberating.
Lord Voldemort had gathered all the Death Eaters and held meeting after meeting.
They discussed plans, tactics, timing, and locations.
Someone suggested attacking the Ministry of Magic, but others argued that its defenses were too tight.
Someone suggested attacking Diagon Alley, but others pointed out that Diagon Alley had already been attacked last time.
Someone suggested attacking Hogwarts, but Hogwarts had Albus Dumbledore.
Lord Voldemort always felt that one place was unsuitable, then that another place was unsuitable.
And so, the deliberations continued until the first Sunday of June.
It was not because they had finally reached a conclusion.
Rather, it was because Albus Dumbledore, who had once again disappeared for a long time to track the traces of an Obscurial, had finally returned to Hogwarts.
When the old Headmaster appeared at the Castle, it was just in time for dinner.
The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were deeper than usual. He had probably not slept well for a long time.
At the same time, he was followed by a group of elderly Wizards and witches.
All of them wore dark robes, with silver badges pinned to their collars. The badges bore the image of a quill crossed with a scroll of parchment—the symbol of the Wizarding Examinations Authority.
Albus Dumbledore and the group of elderly Wizards and witches walked into the Great Hall.
The instant the doors opened, everyone's gaze shifted away from their plates and toward the entrance.
These unexpected visitors immediately attracted the attention of the students.
"Who are they?" someone asked.
"I guess they're examiners…" someone replied.
"O.W.L. examiners?"
"N.E.W.T. ones too."
"Merlin, they look so old."
"They proctored my parents."
"They proctored my grandparents."
Albus Dumbledore led the group of old Professors to the staff table.
Seeing Lynn looking curiously at the Professors seated there, Edgar proactively leaned closer to act as a commentator.
He shifted slightly, leaned toward Lynn's ear, and lowered his voice.
"See that Witch chatting with Albus Dumbledore?"
Lynn nodded. "I'm not blind."
That Witch was sitting beside Albus Dumbledore, her head turned toward him as she said something.
"You never know…"
Lynn glanced at him, and Edgar tactfully restrained his smile.
"Ahem." Edgar cleared his throat. "Professor Griselda Marchbanks. She is the most senior employee of the Ministry of Magic's Wizarding Examinations Authority and usually serves as the chief examiner. I heard she even proctored Albus Dumbledore when he was young."
Lynn nodded.
His gaze returned to Professor Marchbanks. He had not expected this sprightly old lady to be so old. You could not tell at all.
"And that one over there is Professor Tofty." Edgar pointed toward another old man.
He had gray, messy hair and looked as though he had not combed it in days. Several deep wrinkles stretched from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth.
"Don't let his unsteady walk fool you. He's actually only a hundred-something years old. He is considered young among the Professors up there. He usually proctors the Charms and Herbology exams."
Lynn continued to nod.
Hmm… you could not tell that about him either.
"And look at that one, Alberic Grunnion…" Edgar continued, pointing around the staff table and introducing the examiners one by one.
Lynn listened, nodding occasionally and letting out a quiet "Hmm."
After a while, dinner ended.
Albus Dumbledore stood as usual, straightened his robes, and swept his gaze across the hall.
He had no intention of introducing the Professors at the staff table and instead went straight to the point.
This was also Professor Marchbanks's preference. In her view, an exam was an exam. There was no need to build a relationship with the students beforehand. If anyone wished to do so, they could wait until the exams were over.
She was the strictly-business type.
After Albus Dumbledore finished going over the examination notices, he sighed.
"Honestly, the matters within the school alone are already making me feel somewhat overwhelmed."
He paused before continuing.
"Sometimes, I even want to resign from the International—"
Before Albus Dumbledore could finish his sentence, Professor Marchbanks interrupted him.
"Albus, you are still young. You cannot always think about slacking off…" Professor Marchbanks said in dissatisfaction.
The expressions of the people nearby were incredibly amusing. Their gazes shifted back and forth between Albus Dumbledore and Professor Marchbanks.
Although Professor Marchbanks was qualified to say such a thing at the ripe old age of more than one hundred and thirty, most people still found it strange to hear.
Especially after seeing Albus Dumbledore's gray beard, they were speechless.
A gray-bearded old man who was over a hundred years old being told, You are still young.
The scene was simply too discordant.
"You are absolutely right." Albus Dumbledore nodded repeatedly.
After spending a little more time going over all the precautions, Albus Dumbledore accompanied the examiners to the staff room.
But the students in the Great Hall were in an uproar.
Although they had prepared for a long time, the arrival of the Wizarding Examinations Authority still gave them an indescribable sense of crisis.
So much so that more than half of them did not sleep well that night.
Some students lay in bed with their eyes closed, their minds filled with exam questions. They tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep no matter what they did.
As the saying went, sharpening the spear right before battle might not make it sharp, but it would at least shine.
So, another group of students seized every opportunity to review their schoolwork. Even remembering one more Spell would be useful.
This led to the lights in the House common rooms remaining on until the early hours of the morning.
The next morning, the first exams for the fifth and seventh years began.
Hogwarts Castle was shrouded in a serious atmosphere.
There were no footsteps, no conversations, and no unnecessary sounds in the corridors.
During breakfast, Edgar sat at the long table clutching a book and muttering to himself.
A plate of food sat in front of him, but he had not touched a single bite.
Not far away, Harry and Ron were also quizzing each other on the contents of The Standard Book of Spells, checking whether either of them had made a mistake.
Harry asked, "What is the Summoning Spell for a Flying Broomstick?"
Ron answered, "Broomstick Accio."
Harry said, "Correct. Next—what is the incantation for the Shield Charm?"
Ron answered, "Protego."
Harry said, "Correct. Next—what is the incantation for the Patronus Charm?"
Lynn sat at the Hufflepuff table, holding a sandwich and eating it slowly.
This made him feel somewhat out of place among them.
The exams lasted for two weeks. Mornings were reserved for theory, afternoons for practical examinations, while Astronomy was scheduled late at night.
The fifth-years' first exam was the theory paper for Charms.
The examination room was in the Great Hall. The four long House tables had been pushed against the walls, replaced by rows of neatly arranged individual desks and chairs.
The distance between each desk was very wide—wide enough that, even if someone wanted to peek, they would not be able to see another student's answers.
Hundreds of candles floated beneath the ceiling. Their flames flickered in the air, brightly illuminating the entire Great Hall.
The questions included, but were not limited to: writing down the Spell that made objects fly; describing the corresponding wand movement; the Cheering Charm; and the counter-charm for hiccups…
This kind of childish material was a piece of cake for Lynn.
He picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and began writing so quickly that it looked as though he were copying answers.
Even so, the paper stumped quite a few students who were not good at theory.
That included Edgar.
He sat two rows behind Lynn, his exam paper spread out before him. He held his quill over the parchment, the tip hovering above the page as he hesitated to write.
That afternoon's practical Charms exam was proctored by Professor Marchbanks and Professor Tofty, while Professor Flitwick accompanied them as an invigilator.
The examination room was still the Great Hall, but the desks and chairs had been moved away, leaving only an open space.
A table stood at the center of the room, and an eggcup rested on it.
The students entered one by one, stood before the table, and demonstrated their magical ability in front of the three examiners.
Their task was to make the eggcup flip, levitate, change color, and grow.
The movements had to be fluid. Students capable of casting nonverbal Spells would receive higher scores, although those who could not would not be penalized.
Lynn stood in the middle of the line. Ahead of him was a Ravenclaw girl.
"Mr. Lynn."
Professor Marchbanks's voice came from within the exam room.
Lynn opened his eyes, straightened his robes, and pushed open the door.
The room was very quiet.
Professor Marchbanks sat in the middle, Professor Tofty sat to her left, and Professor Flitwick sat to her right.
Several pieces of parchment lay spread out before them, covered in writing—most likely the grading criteria and record sheets.
Lynn walked to the table, took out his wand, and lightly tapped the eggcup.
The entire process was completed in an instant.
Lynn put away his wand and waited for further instructions from the Professors.
The two Ministry of Magic Professors nodded in satisfaction, then lowered their heads and made several notes on Lynn's grading sheet.
Suddenly, as if recalling something, Professor Marchbanks spoke.
"The student before you demonstrated his specialty Spell for us—the Patronus Charm." Her voice remained calm. "As the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, is there anything Mr. Lynn can demonstrate for us?"
Lynn scratched his head, looking conflicted.
"It's alright, Mr. Lynn," Professor Tofty said from the side. "Even if you have nothing to demonstrate, it will not affect your final grade."
"Really?" Lynn asked suspiciously.
The two Ministry of Magic Professors nodded together.
Only Professor Flitwick realized the severity of the situation.
He was just about to raise a hand to stop him…
Lynn reached out and snapped his fingers.
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