After chatting for a while about the goblin strike at Gringotts, the atmosphere at the table relaxed once again.
Professor McGonagall picked up a silver spoon and gently stirred the glass of violet water in front of her. Watching the pale purple liquid swirl in the glass, she seemed to be weighing her words before suddenly speaking up:
"William, there is something I must mention. Recently, I have heard quite a few... or to be precise, a great many students from every year complaining that the pressure in Defense Against the Dark Arts is too intense."
Professor McGonagall looked up, gazing at William through her square spectacles, her tone fair and objective. "While being strict is a good thing—after all, the teaching situation for this subject hasn't been very optimistic in recent years, and the students' foundation is indeed weak..."
"However, as Deputy Headmistress, I believe the students' feedback needs to be taken into consideration. As it stands, isn't the pace of the curriculum perhaps a little too high-strung?"
William took a sip of the hot mead he had just ordered, feeling the warmth slide down his throat.
He did not refute her; instead, he nodded thoughtfully.
"Indeed, questioning them every single lesson does seem a bit too frequent for the children these days."
Seeing how readily William accepted the advice, Professor McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief and said affirmatively, "Exactly. So, I suggest the frequency could be slowed down slightly to give them some breathing room."
William pondered for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop.
"Then... let's make it once a month," he murmured to himself.
"Once a month?" Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise in the other's eyes.
Jumping directly from "once every lesson" to "once a month" was quite a leap; one might even say it was an overcorrection.
Just as Professor McGonagall was preparing to speak—to persuade William that he didn't need to be so extreme, and that perhaps once a week or once a fortnight would suffice—William suddenly sat up straight.
"I've made my decision." William dropped his casual demeanor and spoke seriously, "Every month, there will be a formal test for the students."
Before the two Heads of House could breathe a sigh of relief, William immediately threw out a sentence that stunned everyone at the table:
"However, if possible... I hope this applies to more than just Defense Against the Dark Arts."
As soon as these words were spoken, the air at the table seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall exchanged glances again, but this time, the surprise in their eyes had turned into confusion.
Snape, who had been listening silently the whole time, also set down his empty glass. He turned his gaze toward William, seeming to anticipate an interesting topic and waiting to hear what would follow.
"William, if you have any ideas, feel free to speak your mind," Professor Flitwick encouraged. "We are all colleagues here, and very close ones at that, so we can speak freely."
"Thank you, Filius."
William leaned forward slightly, clasped his hands on the table, and began his explanation.
"Originally, my intention in setting the task of questioning them every lesson was simple: I wanted the students to feel pressure."
William's gaze swept over the professors. "At present, the assessment mechanism at Hogwarts is too singular. There is only one final exam at the end of each school year. This results in the vast majority of young wizards feeling no academic tension whatsoever for the entire year."
"For most of them, the state of affairs is this: once class is over, it's playtime. They play in the common room, take walks by the Black Lake, or fly a couple of laps around the Quidditch pitch."
"As for homework? They just copy a few paragraphs from a book, stitch together an essay, and hand it in just to be done with it."
At this point, William gave a light chuckle. "Oh, and they don't even necessarily listen carefully in class. After all, they know the professors won't test them on the content anytime soon. They just wait until summer, the week before final exams, and cram at the last minute."
"This is also why, even in their O.W.L. year, many students appear to be revising desperately all year long—staying up until they're practically bald—yet their results remain unsatisfactory."
William spread his hands. "Because for the first four years, they had no sense of urgency at all. Their foundation is too poor; it's like building a castle on sand—the base is loose."
"Trying to rote-memorize five years of content in one year? Even Merlin himself couldn't save them."
William paused, his tone softening slightly. "However, this is understandable. After all, they are a bunch of teenage wizards; it is in their nature to love play. Asking them to restrain themselves through self-discipline without strong external intervention is not an easy thing."
"But..."
William shifted his tone. "Since Hogwarts is a full-time boarding school, while it isolates students from outside distractions, it also isolates them from parental supervision and daily monitoring. Therefore, I believe the school ought to shoulder this portion of the responsibility and play a stricter supervisory role in magical education."
Having said this, William stopped and quietly observed their reactions.
Everyone present was a veteran professor with many years of teaching experience. McGonagall and Flitwick, in particular, had been teaching longer than William had been alive. William did not believe that after teaching for so many years, they couldn't see these obvious drawbacks.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, her brow furrowed slightly. She remained silent for a moment before slowly nodding. "I must say, William, what you've said makes a lot of sense, and it hits the nail right on the head."
She asked in a tone that was partly probing and partly expectant, "So, regarding what you mentioned earlier about 'not just Defense Against the Dark Arts'... what specific measures do you have in mind?"
William took a sip of mead to moisten his throat and began to elaborate on his proposal.
"I envision establishing a comprehensive 'Monthly Exam System'."
"For students in years one through four, a unified assessment covering major subjects will be held at the end of each month. The scope of the assessment will not be limited to what was learned that month, but will include all content learned by that year group to date, thereby pushing them to constantly review and consolidate their foundation."
"Learning magic is like stacking building blocks; if they don't master the content in the lower years, they'll just be muddling through in the upper years."
At this point, William smiled, as if he could already see the future scenario. "As for the results... this is the key. The report cards, just like the final exam results, must be sent directly to their guardians via owl."
"This way, parents can see their child's performance every month. I believe this will effectively prevent the situation where students drift aimlessly through the year, only for their parents to receive a disappointing report card at the end."
"As for years five through seven..." William continued, "They are already facing the pressure of major exams, or have already begun to study self-consciously, so they don't need this kind of basic supervision."
"For them, I suggest conducting a full-scale mock exam for O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s after the Halloween, Christmas, and Easter holidays."
"The purpose of the mock exams is mainly to help them familiarize themselves with the process, question types, and time allocation of the final assessments, allowing them to adapt to the exam atmosphere in advance."
After saying this, William leaned back in his chair, took another sip of mead, and waited for their opinions.
"As it stands, what the students lack most is the motivation—or rather, the pressure—to learn. A monthly assessment can serve as supervision, and the frequency is moderate, not too excessive."
William looked at the professors, who were all bowing their heads in thought, and asked softly, "What does everyone think?"
There was silence for a while.
Surprisingly, it was Snape, who usually had a foul attitude, who spoke first.
"I think it is excellent."
Snape's voice remained icy, but the curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed his good mood. "What Hogwarts has in abundance is students who are both dunderheaded and lazy. Since they are unwilling to actively use their rusty brains, I certainly do not mind applying a little more pressure on them."
Clearly, the two points of "making students suffer" and "sending report cards to parents" had won Snape's heart completely.
Professor Flitwick thought for a moment, a glint in his small eyes. "Although this will increase our workload... in the long run, it will indeed solidify the students' foundation. Hearing it like this, William, your plan is highly feasible. I am willing to support you."
Thus, everyone's gaze turned to the Deputy Headmistress.
Professor McGonagall looked up, scanned the group, and finally looked at William, a smile of approval appearing on her face.
"Since everyone thinks so... then the few of us are in agreement. And I believe that most professors who genuinely wish for their students to succeed will also approve after hearing it."
Professor McGonagall shifted her tone. "However, this matter has significant implications, involving a series of curriculum adjustments, exam preparations, and even home-school communication. Ultimately, it will still require Dumbledore's approval."
"Of course."
Hearing this, William smiled casually and poured himself another drink.
"He will agree."
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Will do bonus chapter for every 100 power stones!