[Third Person Pov]
After Harry and Arthur's tense encounter with Snape and Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest, Harry wasted absolutely no time rushing back to the Gryffindor common room. He breathlessly recounted every detail to Ron and Hermione. He didn't even bother to sit down first—his words tumbled out in a frantic, urgent stream.
Neither Ron nor Hermione had much confidence that Professor Quirrell, timid and trembling as he always was, would be able to hold out for long against Snape. Ron even muttered that Quirrell would probably spill everything the moment Snape so much as looked at him funny.
But to their collective surprise, they were proven wrong. Days passed. Then weeks. And still, Quirrell remained tight-lipped. There wasn't a single whisper, rumor, or sign that he had confessed anything to Snape.
During those same weeks, however, plenty of other things had happened—far more productive things. Everyone had been pushing themselves in their study of Magic Circles under Arthur's guidance. The improvised lessons he offered during their free hours had become a regular part of their routine, something between a club and a secret training regiment. Even Ron—who complained more than anyone—continued showing up.
And with steady practice came steady progress. Before long, nearly everyone had reached a point where they could safely and consistently craft basic 1st-tier Magic Circles.
One afternoon, as the group chatted among themselves and set out their materials, Arthur clapped his hands sharply. The sound echoed through the room and instantly captured everyone's attention.
"Alright, everyone," he announced, tone serious yet full of energy, "today's test is going to be very important, so listen up and listen well."
"Ughhh—a test?! Seriously?!" Ron groaned loudly, slumping forward in dramatic misery. For someone who disliked studying as much as breathing, the very idea of being tested—especially after classes were technically over—sounded like needless suffering. Frankly, Arthur was impressed Ron still attended these lessons at all.
"Yes, a test," Arthur confirmed, unfazed. He lifted a finger, emphasizing the point like a professor about to lecture. "And not just any test. This one will officially mark you as Tier Mages."
Arthur let his gaze sweep across each of them before continuing.
"Now then," he said, raising his voice slightly, "would anyone like to remind the class what exactly a Tier Mage is?"
Everyone stared back at him blankly—everyone except Hermione, who immediately thrust her hand into the air, practically vibrating with eagerness.
Arthur pointed at her with a snap of his fingers. "Go."
Hermione straightened with pride and launched into her explanation. "A Tier Mage is someone capable of properly using a Tier Magic Circle. Their title reflects both their power and the level of circle they can effectively wield. There are nine tiers in total, and thus nine corresponding titles. Those capable of wielding a 1st-tier circle are known simply as Mages. For 2nd tier, the appropriate titles are Wizard or Witch. 3rd are called Magus, 4th Warlocks, 5th Magistrates, 6th Sorcerers, 7th Arcanists, 8th Sages, and 9th—Archons…"
"Thank you, Hermione," Arthur said with a satisfied nod. Hermione's smile widened, pleased with both the acknowledgement and the accuracy of her answer. "Though these titles aren't officially recognized anywhere—yet—mark my words, I fully intend to make them standard one way or another."
He noticed Gwyneth raising her hand and gestured for her to speak.
"What titles do you and Merlin have?" she asked.
Arthur glanced to the side, only to see Merlin step forward before he could answer. The sorceress folded her arms and stated calmly, "Arthur and I are both Magus, as the highest tier of Magic Circle we are currently able to conjure is the 3rd."
Arthur had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He knew full well that Merlin operated far above the level of a mere Magus—closer to an Arrcanist or Sorceress, depending on the day and her mood. But convincing anyone of that would be nearly impossible without causing panic or disbelief.
He stepped forward again and clapped his hands once. "Now then, unless anyone else has questions, let me explain today's task. This test will determine your titles and mark your first official step into becoming Tier Mages."
The room grew noticeably quieter, the weight of his words settling over the group.
"To qualify as a Mage," Arthur continued, "you must successfully draw five effective 1st-tier Magic Circles. Considering everything I've taught you—and the spells I gave you to practice—this should be well within your capabilities."
Ron nervously raised his hand, his face slightly pale. "What if—er—what if we fail to do the five?" he asked, voice cracking as though he were asking about a pending execution.
"Then you can try again tomorrow," Arthur replied simply, shrugging as though Ron had asked something obvious. "Or whenever you're ready."
Ron blinked in surprise. "Seriously?" He squinted at Arthur, half suspicious and half hopeful, as if expecting some hidden catch.
"Yeah," Arthur said, spreading his hands. "You'll be classified as a Mage the moment you can produce those five magic circles. Once you can do that consistently, no one can deny your status." His tone then shifted, turning firm and cautionary. "But don't assume the rest of the tiers will be just as easy. Some of the higher tests may take months—maybe even years—to master. Some people will plateau entirely and never surpass a certain tier. This first one is only easy because it's the first step."
Ron took that in, then gave a slow nod. "Oh. Well… it's not so bad if I can just try again later when I fail."
Hermione snapped her head toward him with a deep frown. "Why do you always assume you're going to fail? Honestly, Ron! How do you ever expect to achieve anything if you begin by giving up?"
"Hermione… this is me we're talking about," Ron said matter-of-factly. "I've never been the best with this sort of thing. If I expect to fail, I won't be disappointed when I do fail. And if I pass—brilliant! That means it was unexpected and I get to celebrate." He finished with a smug little shrug, as if his logic was flawless.
Hermione groaned loudly into her hands. Harry snorted into his sleeve, trying not to laugh.
Arthur pulled out his wand and gave it a flick. Instantly, sheets of paper, enchanted ink, and hovering pens lifted from a nearby table and drifted smoothly into the hands of each student.
"There's no real time limit," Arthur said. "Just be mindful of what magic circles you choose. Pick the ones you feel confident drawing. Comfort and accuracy matter more than showing off."
Within minutes the room was filled with quiet scratching, murmured counting, and the focused hum of concentration. Ron, however, began to shift restlessly. Eventually, he leaned toward Hermione and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Psst. Hermione. Let me copy off you."
She nearly dropped her pen. "Wh—No! Absolutely not! This is a test, Ron!" she hissed, hugging her paper to her chest. "You can't just copy off me—that's cheating!"
"Actually," Arthur called without even looking up, lounging back on a massive bean-bag chair with his hands behind his head, "it wouldn't be cheating."
Both Ron and Hermione froze.
Arthur tilted his head back to look at them upside-down. "The purpose of this test is to confirm whether you can effectively create the circles. Even if you copy the layout, producing a functional circle still depends entirely on your own skill—your precision, your flow, your control. Cheating would be if Ron asked Hermione to draw all five for him, and she actually did it."
Ron slowly turned to Hermione with raised brows, his expression clearly saying, Well? You heard the man.
Hermione let out a tortured sigh and relented, sliding her paper slightly toward the edge of the table. "I still think you should rely on what you've learned," she muttered. "I know for a fact you remember more than you act like you do. I've helped you practice."
Ron beamed and ignored absolutely everything she'd just said. "Thanks, Hermione. You're the best."
"Ugh, whatever," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes so hard they might've escaped her skull.
Across the room, Merlin sat squeezed into the same oversized bean-bag chair with Arthur, legs crossed elegantly as she watched the scene with amused contempt.
"You're enjoying this far too much," she said dryly, nudging Arthur with her elbow.
"Oh, tremendously," Arthur whispered back, grin broadening. His eyes gleamed with ambition. "Just wait. Sooner or later this room will be filled to the brim with students—dozens, maybe hundreds—all learning from you and me."
Merlin's expression deadpanned. "Since when did I agree to that? That sounds like free labor—my labor—that I definitely didn't sign up for."
Arthur lifted his chin dramatically and gazed off into some imaginary horizon. "I can see it now…"
"Don't you go ignoring me."
"A beautiful sight…"
"Arthur."
"You and me, working side by side…"
"Oi—listen—"
"It'll be a dream come true…"
Merlin visibly considered smacking him with a spellbook.
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