In William's view, although the foundation of the majority of these young wizards was indeed poor—much like a leaky sieve—this was, after all, only the first monthly test, and there were still nearly two months before the exam.
If they could spare an hour a day on average to review the syllabus seriously—even if it was just rote memorization—getting a passing grade in the compulsory subjects would be no problem.
Moreover, the beginning is always the hardest. To avoid completely crushing the confidence of these children right from the start, William had specifically limited the scope for students below the fifth year to compulsory subjects. The difficulty of the questions was also a "relatively simple" version, finalized after repeated discussions with several professors.
However, after a week of detached observation, William found that he had still overestimated the self-discipline of these adolescent wizards and underestimated their procrastination.
For a significant portion of the students, their first reaction was not to formulate a plan and act immediately, but to band together to complain and protest.
Even though they knew clearly in their hearts that this matter had the unanimous support of the Board of Governors and the professors—meaning it was set in stone and their wailing was meaningless.
Based on William's experience, their psychological journey would likely proceed as follows:
First, complain for a fortnight, then continue playing; wait until they realized time was truly tight and complaining couldn't change reality, then start frantically risking their lives to cram; finally, under the panic and high pressure of the approaching day, they would despairingly realize that it was impossible to finish the material, and while praying under their covers for Merlin to grant them a passing grade, they would curse the school in their hearts for its inhumanity.
While the young wizards across the school were generally depressed and voicing their grievances over this matter, there were some who seemed not to take it to heart at all.
For example, Nymphadora Tonks.
That evening, William was in his office, editing a long piece of parchment.
Knock, knock, knock.
There was a knock on the door.
William flicked his wrist, his wand waving lightly over the parchment; the writing instantly vanished, leaving a blank sheet of paper.
"Come in."
The door was pushed open, and Tonks strode in. Closely following behind her was that half-human-height alchemy puppet.
"Good evening, Professor!"
Tonks looked proud, her hair a vibrant, energetic bright purple. "I'm here to turn in my assignment!"
William did not immediately respond to her pride; instead, he tilted his head to listen.
Aside from Tonks' own footsteps, the heavy metal puppet made not a single "click" or "clank" as it moved, much like a bodiless ghost.
"The silencing is perfect." William nodded, signaling for her to continue. "Show me the invisibility effect."
"Watch this!"
Tonks waved her wand excitedly.
The runic circuits on the puppet's chest glowed with a faint ghostly blue light. Immediately afterward, the silver-gray body seemed to turn into liquid mercury, its color changing rapidly to blend in with the surrounding background.
In the blink of an eye, the puppet vanished into the air. Only by observing extremely carefully could one see a faint refractive distortion in the space.
"That's not all."
Tonks snapped her fingers, and the puppet's form reappeared as it began to move.
William did not just watch idly. He waved his wand casually, and the chairs, tea table, and even the empty snake nest in the office floated up, blocking the puppet's path in a chaotic manner.
However, the puppet's movements were extremely agile, completely inconsistent with its clumsy appearance.
It turned sideways, ducked, and even made a small jump, perfectly avoiding every obstacle in its path.
Only when the puppet had moved all the way from the door to the wall without touching anything did William nod approvingly.
"Very effective." William waved his hand, returning the items to their original places. "Not only the solidification of the Disillusionment Charm, but it seems you also put a lot of effort into the design of the sensory circuits."
Hearing this, Tonks held her head high like a proud peacock: "Of course! Aside from the mandatory Auror training and detention, I spent most of my time on this!"
"Good, very inquisitive spirit."
William asked casually, "However, how is your review for the monthly test after Halloween coming along? Although you are a seventh-year, the difficulty of this test is benchmarked against the N.E.W.T. exams. Are you confident?"
"Tch, piece of cake."
Tonks waved her hand nonchalantly. "I know that stuff by heart. At least an 'E' for a baseline; if I'm lucky, maybe even all 'O's."
"Good, you have ambition."
William smiled and asked no more; for such a talented individual, there was indeed no need to worry too much.
"Since you have basically achieved the stealth function, even exceeding my expectations," William stood up and walked over to the puppet, "next, I will guide you on how to achieve 'reconnaissance'."
"Simply put, it is realizing the transmission of real-time surveillance images through alchemy."
William pointed to the puppet's bald head. "You need to make what the puppet's non-existent eyes 'see' cross the barrier of space and appear in real-time before the user—for example, on a mirror or a piece of parchment."
Seeing Tonks gradually frown and reveal a confused expression, William reassured her, "This sounds somewhat complex, but in reality, as long as you master the core logic, it's not as hard as you imagine."
Half an hour later.
"...As long as the rune group here resonates with the rune group at the receiving end, the image will synchronize."
After teaching the simplified version of the Hogwarts surveillance system, William picked up his teacup to moisten his throat and asked, "Got it?"
Tonks scratched her hair, which had turned blue, her eyes looking a bit glazed, but she nodded hesitantly: "Er... sort of? Probably... maybe I understand it all."
"Alright." William waved his hand, not demanding that she master it immediately. "That's the core part. As for the remaining fine-tuning, you can improvise appropriately."
"Go back and try to make it first. If you hit a bottleneck, think about it yourself; if you really can't figure it out, come find me."
"Okay, Professor!"
Tonks nodded, leading the puppet as she prepared to turn and leave.
When she reached the door, she looked back.
She saw William wave his wand again, revealing the dense writing on the blank parchment on the desk, before he buried his head to continue editing.
Out of curiosity, Tonks asked casually, "Professor, is that a sketch for some high-level alchemical design?"
Without lifting his head, William crossed out a question on the paper with his quill and answered offhandedly:
"Oh, no, this is your concentrated mock test. I felt this question about werewolf habits was giving away free points, so I'm considering swapping it for something harder."
"Since you noticed, I suppose I'll change it."
The smile on Tonks' face froze.
"Oh, okay."
She responded dryly, said goodbye, and quickly fled the office.