Chapter Text
As a sixth-year student at Hogwarts, your biggest concern is choosing the right courses. You plan to become an Auror in the future, so you need to take Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. You've heard that sixth-year courses are particularly challenging and that the professors teaching these classes have unique personalities. During the summer break, filled with nervous anticipation, you turned to the Hogwarts-exclusive versions of Reddit and Rate My Professor (thanks to Muggle technology) to check out reviews of your future instructors. Here's what you found:
Tsugikuni Michikatsu
Quality : 3.6
Difficulty : 5.0
A very strict teacher. Make sure you prepare thoroughly before the first week of class. He spends only half an hour reviewing the first five years of material before diving into the coursework. Focus on understanding and practicing in class rather than taking notes; otherwise, it will be hard to keep up. His lessons are packed with dueling content, and this semester I seem to have turned into a battle maniac—spending every waking moment practicing spells. Course content regularly goes beyond the syllabus, leading one to suspect the syllabus exists only for approval purposes. The syllabus covers only about 40% of what’s taught; the rest is bonus material.
The good news is that he's a true genius. If you manage to understand and master his teachings, passing the seventh-year NEWTs is painless—some might even find the exams easier than his end-of-term exams. He teaches you as if you're already an Auror-in-training, not just a sixth-year student. Trust me, the more you despise his class as a student, the more grateful you'll be once you become an Auror—assuming you actually make it.
P.S. Professor Tsugikuni seems to have an unusual fascination with a certain Auror.
Tsugikuni Yoriichi
Quality : 5.0
Difficulty : 3.5
An excellent teacher. Love him. Though he doesn't provide notes or use a blackboard, he tailors his teaching to each student. He has a sharp eye and can pinpoint weaknesses immediately—whether it's the way you're wielding your wand or pronouncing your incantations. Follow his advice and practice diligently, and achieving an Outstanding on your exam is entirely possible.
He sometimes speaks quickly in class, but just raise your hand to let him know, and he'll adjust. Even if you're struggling with Transfiguration but not showing it, he'll sense it and offer guidance. Don't lie to him—he's a natural Legilimens and can read your thoughts just by making eye contact. Also, don't skip class. If you must, ensure you have a genuine reason.
He doesn't hold office hours, so make sure your questions are addressed during class. If you absolutely need to find him, go to the Slytherin dungeons rather than the Hufflepuff office listed in the syllabus—he's usually in his brother's office.
P.S. He seems to have two wands. I’m not sure, and I didn’t ask, but I think I saw him use a rougher wand outside class once. By Monday, he was back to his usual one though.
Skimming through these reviews, you notice that while both professors have their quirks (an unusual fascination? a secret second wand?), their teaching skills seem top-notch. As the top scorer in your OWLs, your only goal is to excel in your seventh-year exams. If anything, you're just curious: given their shared surname and simultaneous positions at Hogwarts, could they be relatives? If so, they might look similar, right? Oddly, no one mentioned how to tell them apart.
Your first class as a sixth-year student is with Professor Yoriichi. To your astonishment, the person who enters the classroom at the sound of the bell is not a person at all, but a doe with glistening eyes. As your classmates gasp, the doe transforms into a fiery bird, and then into a butterfly that gracefully lands on the podium. With a flutter of its wings, it morphs back into a human—Professor Yoriichi himself. His long hair still shimmers faintly with golden-red hues, reminiscent of a phoenix's feathers.
This might be one of the most magical moments you’ve experienced at Hogwarts—on par with learning that magic exists. A natural-born Animagus? Incredible. But isn’t an Animagus supposed to have only one animal form? You've never heard of someone transforming so freely between forms.
"Welcome to sixth-year Transfiguration," Professor Yoriichi says in a calm tone. "I’m glad most of you weren’t spoiled about that little demonstration—it’s one of my favorite traditions."
Although he claims it's a favorite, his expression doesn’t reveal much. Perhaps he’s a bit stoic, you think.
"My name is Tsugikuni Yoriichi. I’m not a huge fan of formalities, so during class discussions or when asking questions, there’s no need to call me Professor Tsugikuni or Mr. Tsugikuni. You can just call me Yoriichi."
He pauses for a moment, seeming almost shy before continuing, "Perhaps those of you also taking Defense Against the Dark Arts have noticed that the professor shares my surname. Yes, this year, my twin brother is teaching that class. To avoid confusion, just call me Yoriichi."
“For those curious about my background, you may have heard about some of my innate talents. Let me confirm: I am a natural Legilimens and, something I hoped would be a surprise, a Metamorphmagus.”
The class buzzes with astonishment, but Yoriichi remains unfazed and continues, “While these are gifts, I’ve honed and mastered them over years. With practice, I believe all of you can achieve a similar level of proficiency. The future is in your hands. Now, let’s begin."
Achieving his level of mastery? You can’t help but doubt it, but the miraculous display you just witnessed fills you with excitement. You think you’re going to enjoy Yoriichi’s class.
___________________________
That afternoon, stepping into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, you immediately understand why RMF reviews described Professor Michikatsu as strict. Arriving ten minutes early, you find him already in the room, scrutinizing his teaching materials.
His neatly tied black hair and all-black attire make him look particularly severe. Just looking at him makes you nervous—he seems as demanding of himself as he is of his students.
The bell rings, and he begins curtly: “The syllabus was distributed to your Perfect before semester started. If you haven’t read it, do so yourself. I won’t waste time on what I’ve already provided. Two things to note: First, unlike my ‘lenient’ brother, I value rules and hierarchy. Pay attention to how you address me—respect and courtesy are qualities I expect from sixth-years. It is your choice to 'forget' to call me Professor Tsugikuni, and my choice to dock your house points accordingly."
“Second, this course is far from easy. You may have heard this already, but let me emphasize: I expect at least 60 hours of study outside class. Depending on your aptitude, it could be 80 or even 100. For those without talent, hard work is your only solution. Cliche, but it still applies.”
His voice is captivating, but his words send a chill down your spine. That’s a huge workload! The room falls silent, and Michikatsu seems pleased with the solemnity. He continues, “I know most of you taking this course aspire to become Aurors, while some of you simply aim to pass the exams and rely on magical tools to fend off the Dark Arts after graduation. Let me remind you: here and now, you are not safe. The Dark Lord still exists and may one day return. My goal for you is not merely to pass exams but to remain calm and capable when confronted by real Dark Magic. That is the standard I hold for my students.”
True to the reviews, Professor Michikatsu spends only half an hour reviewing past material before diving into new content at an exhausting pace. You feel your brain straining to keep up and worry whether you’ll survive this class.
As you walk back to the common room, dazed, you finally understand why no one bothers to explain how to distinguish the two professors. It’s really impossible to confuse them—whether by appearance or teaching style.
Perhaps you should genuinely thank those who wrote reviews for the course. By the second lesson with Professor Tsugikuni, you realized that the comment stating, “The professor seems to have an unusual fascination with a certain Auror,” was likely true. Or, in your word, you would say the Professor was utterly smitten, absolutely, horrendously down bad for that Auror. It suddenly made sense why your coursework was so packed, intricate, and challenging. The professor himself explained, as his gaze swept across the class, “Though it may sound unbelievable, the pace of your studies now matches that of an Auror ten years ago. Many of you come from magical families and have some innate familiarity with magic. Back then, he started from scratch as a Muggle-born. Of course, he was a genius. I don’t expect you to reach his level by the end of the school year.”
That was just the beginning. As the semester progressed, you heard more and more tales about this prodigy in class. Professor Tsugikuni rarely discussed his personal life, his family, or even his younger brother. Outside the syllabus, the only topic he ever mentioned was this genius. At this point, you could probably write a 5,000-word essay about how extraordinary and powerful this Auror was—and you’ve only just finished midterms.
The essential details were as follows: this genius was mysterious, intelligent, and unparalleled. Though he remained anonymous in Professor Tsugikuni’s descriptions, you already knew he began studying magic at 14 or 15 and became an Auror in his early 20s—a feat accomplished faster than anyone else. He mastered various branches of magic, including advanced subjects like Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Ancient Runes, and Muggle Studies, as well as high-level skills like Animagus transformation, the Patronus Charm, Legilimency, and Occlumency. Even more astonishing, he performed all these feats with wandless, nonverbal magic. As an Auror, his record was flawless: every mission was completed successfully, and he never lost a duel with a dark wizard, maintaining a perfect win streak.
Professor Tsugikuni described him as a once-in-a-lifetime talent, unparalleled in history, and perhaps unrivaled in the future. This left his students bewildered—surely such incredible accomplishments couldn’t all belong to one person? Was the professor combining the skills of many exceptional wizards into a single “ultimate wizard”?
Despite the overwhelming workload, you couldn’t help but grow curious about this legendary Auror—who wouldn’t be inspired by greatness? If he truly was that exceptional, finding information about him shouldn’t be difficult. All you had to do was check the student records from a decade ago and identify the year someone dominated all subjects.
Armed with this determination, you spent a month combing through the archives during breaks between Professor Tsugikuni’s endless three-foot essays. Unfortunately, your search yielded no results on the prodigy. However, you did come across Professor Tsugikuni Michikatsu’s name—he had served as Slytherin’s Seeker from his fourth to seventh years, winning the Quidditch Cup four consecutive times. Wow—those were prime OWL and NEWT preparation years, yet he still managed intense Quidditch training and victories. You suddenly felt a newfound respect for Professor Tsugikuni, and his name took on a more sincere tone whenever you addressed him.
___________________________
As for Professor Yoriichi’s class, it was just as you expected—more natural and relaxed. In theory, Transfiguration demanded rigorous effort because it was more precise and scientific than other subjects. Success required absolute accuracy, and sixth-year courses involved careful human transfiguration, which allowed no room for error. Yet, during every practice session with Professor Yoriichi, he could pinpoint your mistakes with incredible precision: “Your wand angle was slightly off, pointing too high,” or “You mispronounced one syllable,” or “Improved, but you need to focus on the wrist arc.” His sharp eye left you in awe. Under his guidance, your progress felt tangible, and you could already envision yourself earning an “O” grade by year’s end.
Outside class, Yoriichi seems reserved. He almost never discussed personal matters, and the word you heard most often from him was “Aniue.” For example, if he arrived late, he would apologize, saying, “I’m so sorry I’m late. I was discussing something with my Aniue.” Or, “Aniue and I were finalizing your exam content.” Beyond coursework, he had little else to share. The few times you bumped into him outside class, he only exchanged a brief greeting, offering no chance for conversation or even small talks. He moved so quickly through the castle that you swore he disappeared the moment he turned a corner. You reminded yourself that Apparition wasn’t allowed on school grounds.
Was Yoriichi perhaps a dull person outside academics? No wonder there was nothing entertaining about him in the reviews. Just a vague mention that he might have two wands. Really? Even if he had a spare wand, that wasn’t particularly remarkable.
Still, as you got to know him better, you couldn’t help but feel curious. Would he ever use that second wand? According to earlier students’ reviews, it wasn’t a backup for emergencies but something he supposedly used randomly—and outside school, no less. You began to hope for a chance to witness it in action.
You didn’t have to wait long. During a Halloween outing to Hogsmeade, you and a few classmates stopped for Butterbeer. In a corner of the pub, you spotted two familiar figures quietly chatting. It was your first time seeing the Tsugikuni brothers together outside their Slytherin office. Pretending not to notice, you sat far away, but your eyes kept wandering toward them, intrigued by the prospect of seeing the mysterious second wand.
Their Butterbeers were ready. Yoriichi casually waved his wand, levitating the mugs to their table. You noticed Michikatsu frown slightly but say nothing.
What a flawless Accio Spell, you marveled. Yoriichi’s magic always seemed textbook-perfect, his spells executed with such precision that the motions looked like illustrations straight out of a guidebook.
Just as you admired the perfect parabolic arc, a thought struck you—you might have missed something. Had his wand been… green? It didn’t look like any wood you’d seen, nor was it polished like typical wands. In fact, the color and texture were unlike any wand you knew. Thinking back, its shape seemed too smooth and cylindrical. Could it have been something like… bamboo?
Wow, truly, learning never stops. A wand made of bamboo—this is the first time I've seen one, you thought to yourself, tipsy, as the thought crossed your mind. But just as a bubble in your beer popped, another thought also bubbled up: Could there really be wands made of bamboo?
One leads to another, and you continued to recall the moment he cast the spell. In your memory, his movements didn’t seem clear anymore. Suddenly, you snapped to attention. Rather than being unclear, it was more like... not precise. When he used Accio, his hand gesture wasn’t quite right. Could this be possible? After all, this was Tsugikuni Yoriichi, who could pinpoint someone else’s gesture issues in class with a single glance.
Wandless magic, you suddenly thought of that common phrase used to describe the genius Auror in Professor Tsugikuni's class. This explanation seemed more convincing. Perhaps the bamboo he waved around wasn't really a wand, just a distraction. When he used the Levitation Charm, he probably didn’t need the wand at all to guide the magic—he could just use wandless magic. You convinced yourself of this theory, but another question quietly began to emerge: If he could use wandless magic, could he also cast other spells without a wand?
More questions surfaced: If he could, then why use this bamboo as a distraction? It was just him and his brother here. Accio wasn’t exactly a high-level spell. He‘d probably have easily cast it with just his eyes... Unless, unless the bamboo had some special significance.
___________________________
After the holidays, everyone returned to the busier pace of student life, but you didn’t push this matter out of your mind (after all, solving mysteries was one of the few joys in your busy life). You began paying closer attention to the magic Tsugikuni Yoriichi used outside of the classroom, and soon made an unexpected discovery—he seemed to perform magic more casually outside the classroom. You noticed that, almost every time he cast a spell outside of class, he did so absentmindedly: sometimes it seemed like he didn’t even say the incantation, other times his hand gestures seemed slightly off (not matching the perfect gestures he demonstrated in class). But no matter how casually he performed the magic, it seemed to have no impact on its effectiveness. You suddenly recalled a few times when you saw him disappear around a corner—could it be that he was using the Muffling Charm and wandless magic for Apparition at the same time? Although theoretically impossible for a wizard, house elves could, and what if he was just that powerful? You began to indulge in endless fantasies.
But soon, you had no time for such musings. The afternoon marked Tsugikuni Yoriichi’s class, and today he was expected to hand out the midterm exam papers. When you were answering the multiple-choice questions in the exam, you had a slim hope of scoring high, but when you saw the Q&A questions, you didn’t care much about your score anymore. You were curious and concerned about his explanation today—though the questions were difficult, Tsugikuni Yoriichi’s explanations were always excellent. Now you understood—though he had never openly admitted it—Professor Tsugikuni Michikatsu was also a genius. But you were not one. Your current goal was simply to pass his class.
However, as he slowly moved from the most error-prone major questions to the multiple-choice ones, he pointed out that more than half the class had made a foolish mistake, when suddenly he let out a grunt and bent down. The papers and answer sheets in his hands clattered to the floor, and his right hand tightly gripped his left forearm, half leaning against the podium. You had never seen Professor Tsugikuni like this—completely out of character compared to his usual dignified and composed demeanor. You immediately felt something was wrong and quickly stood up to help pick up the fallen papers. They had scattered a bit far, and you hurriedly ran to the podium to grab them. At that moment, you saw Professor Tsugikuni’s brow furrowed tightly, as if he were struggling against immense pain.
"Professor Tsugikuni," you were alarmed, "Professor, are you alright?"
"...Yoriichi," Professor Tsugikuni gasped, forcing out his brother's name between clenched teeth. "Go... find Yoriichi." Then he collapsed. You didn’t have time to check if he had fainted; you quickly rushed out of the classroom. You had never hated the fact that Apparition wasn’t allowed in the castle more than you did now. You had to run on foot, unsure whether you would make it in time. Moreover, you had no idea where Yoriichi could be—was he teaching another year’s students? Or in his office? You rushed through every room, not stopping to check, only confirming through windows whether the teacher inside had gold-red-tipped hair at the end.
It only took you a few minutes to find Tsugikuni Yoriichi, but it felt like hours. You felt as if you had already worn yourself out, leaping up and down the castle. You didn’t have time to knock, so you threw your body against the door with a crash. Yoriichi was indeed inside, facing a group of students from an unknown year, teaching them something. When he heard the door crash, he turned to see what had happened. You could tell Yoriichi was about to say something, but as he looked into your pale, helpless face, it was as though he understood everything without words. Without speaking, his aura suddenly shifted completely. He quickly left the students behind and walked straight toward the door. Within a few seconds, he passed by you without a word. You gasped for breath for a few seconds before tightly following him out.
But he was faster. When you ran outside, you barely caught a glimpse of his robe disappearing around a corner. You gritted your teeth and pushed yourself to chase after him. But when you turned the corner, you lost track of him again. You stared in disbelief at what lay before you: you had truly lost Yoriichi’s trail, but in front of you was a mass of gold-red oily substance, like a fluid or cloud, flying through the air, wreaking havoc, and rapidly dissolving into the transparent air.
A few lines from the Dark Arts Defense midterm review flashed in your mind. While you continued to run toward Professor Tsugikuni’s classroom, you felt dizzy. In your disoriented state, you thought: Tsugikuni Yoriichi—he’s not just a natural Legilimens and Metamorphmagus, he’s also an—Obscurial.
When you finally returned to Tsugikuni Yoriichi’s classroom, you saw him, now restored to human form, lifting his elder brother in a princess carry. You saw the cold sweat on Tsugikuni Michikatsu’s face, while Yoriichi’s expression was grim. The two of them brushed past you without a word, leaving a group of confused students behind. You staggered a few steps behind them, but dizziness overtook you, and before you lost consciousness, you were sure you saw them vanish around another corner. This time, the sound of a slightly explosion of magic that followed truly sounded like Apparition.
You spent the night in the school hospital and returned to class the next day. You were deeply worried about Professor Tsugikuni’s condition, and from the way he looked in pain, you thought it would take at least a week for him to recover. To your surprise, you saw him back in class on the third day.
Only, following close behind was Tsugikuni Yoriichi, his face notably displeased.
You couldn't help but be surprised. First, why was Yoriichi even here? And second, over the past few days when you'd attended classes with him, you hadn't seen much change in his expression—his face rarely betrayed any emotion. It almost made you doubt the memory of seeing his darkened expression just before you passed out the other day. But now, you could clearly sense that he was in a bad mood. His brows were furrowed, and for the first time, his usually serene face displayed what could only be described as anger.
It struck you suddenly—how alike they looked now. The two professors exchanged silent stares at the doorway before slowly moving toward the lectern. Feeling uneasy, you slipped past them quietly and slid into your seat. The bell had yet to ring, but the classroom was tense.
"Aniue, don’t, resist, me." Yoriichi broke the silence, his voice calm but firm. Then, after a pause, he added, "I need to read your mind."
"There’s no need, Yoriichi. I’m fine now," replied Professor Tsugikuni Michikatsu.
Oh. Only then did it dawn on you—so they were engaging in a battle of Legilimency and Occlumency right there at the door.
"Aniue" Yoriichi called again, and this time, Professor Tsugikuni Michikatsu hesitated before he averted his gaze. The bell rang just then, providing him an excuse—or perhaps a relief. He lightly patted Yoriichi's shoulder, then turned to face the students.
"My apologies for missing two days of lessons," Michikatsu began. "There was an incident earlier, and I was somewhat indisposed. However, that does not affect our curriculum or pace. I trust you've all remained disciplined in my absence and remember the material from last time. We'll be moving at a slightly quicker pace today. Now, why don’t you all get out your notebooks?"
A hand shot up hesitantly from the back of the room.
"Yes?" Michikatsu acknowledged with a nod.
"Professor Tsugikuni," the student stammered, clearly nervous, "why is Professor Yoriichi attending class today?"
Following the student’s voice, you turned to see Yoriichi seated calmly behind the questioning student.
"He took it upon himself," Michikatsu snorted, a sharp contrast to his usual composed demeanor. It sounded suspiciously like a dig at Yoriichi, one that felt strangely.
Yoriichi stood up, unfazed.
"A few days ago, my brother collapsed mid-lecture, likely due to a curse or some unknown magical force," he said. His tone was measured but his gaze never wavered from Michikatsu. "To this day, I don’t know what triggered it, so I believe it’s best for me to stay and observe. Aniue, you’ve refused to disclose what happened, nor have you explained what you were doing at the time. Were you teaching? Casting a spell?" He paused, his voice taking on a firmer edge. "By all rights, you should still be in the hospital undergoing further tests, but you insisted you were fine and turned them all away."
He took a step forward, emphasizing his resolve. "I’m here to ensure that nothing happens to you without my knowledge. No curses, no ambushes, no… deaths."
It was a striking declaration, delivered with unwavering certainty. Standing there with his brother, the two towering figures seemed like mountains, casting their imposing presence over the classroom.
And then, a sharp whooshing sound pierced the air.
You instinctively blinked, feeling a sudden gust brush painfully against your ear. Something had streaked by at an incredible speed. You rubbed your ear and turned, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
A wand had flown straight into Yoriichi’s outstretched hand, where it now rested securely, his fingers touching around it gently. He studied it with a natural grace, as if it were simply a wizard examining his own wand.
Except—it wasn’t his wand.
The silence in the room was deafening. It seemed no one could process what had just happened. You could almost hear the mental buzzing of every overworked brain.
Finally, Yoriichi broke the quiet, murmuring almost to himself, "……Perhaps your wand can tell me more."
The tension was unbearable. No one dared speak; no one wanted to be the fool to interrupt what seemed like a brewing storm between the two brothers.
And then, something just hit you like a lightning bolt.
You clenched your fist suddenly, as if the Big Bang itself were brewing wildly in your mind. Here’s what you know: Tsugikuni Michikatsu, the professor infamous for his mysterious and romanticized gossip, has a rumor — with a brilliant young Auror. Yet, you found no trace of this person in Hogwarts’ history. Moreover, Yoriichi’s existence seems absent from Hogwarts’ records. Was his identity deliberately concealed for his protection or some vital mission? Perhaps he was removed from the Auror list—why? Could he possess some extraordinary ability? Did he break the Ministry’s restrictions? Wait… isn’t he an Obscurial, the kind of magic user connected to dark magics? If so, everything makes sense.
Yoriichi’s bamboo wand isn’t a magical tool at all, and his ability to Apparate proves his magic is exceptionally strong, unaffected by the Hogwart's limits. Michikatsu even hinted that Auror’s magical prowess spans every discipline, including advanced Animagus transformation, Patronus, Occlumency, and Legilimency. And heavens—what did you just witness? Wandless magic. Silent, wandless magic. The Summoning Charm performed without a wand nor a word.
“Good heavens…” you muttered in disbelief, breaking the tense silence without realizing it. Your emotions surged, overpowering all restraint. “You’re the Auror!” Your voice was louder than expected, reverberating through the classroom—from Michikatsu at the lectern to Yoriichi by the back door. Words poured out, unstoppable. “It’s you, Yoriichi! You’re the unparalleled prodigy of the wizarding world! You’re the one who passed your OWLs in a single year and your NEWTs in two! You’re the Merlin’s chosen one!” Descriptions of the genius Auror—mentioned in Michikatsu’s endless lectures—rushed to your mind. Like spilling beans, you blurted everything: “You’re the one blazing like the sun! The one who, um… who bewitched Professor Michikatsu—making him utterly, hopelessly infatuated!”
Out of breath, you scanned the professors. Yoriichi reacted first. For the first time in nearly 100 days of knowing him, you thought you caught a flicker of shock in his expression. Then came something even more astonishing—he seemed bashful, just a bit, reminiscent of the first day when he introduced his brother as another course’s professor. But worse (or better?): Yoriichi’s face turned faintly pink. His ears betrayed him, turning crimson, as he stammered softly, “...Did my Aniue… say these things about me? Really? Oh my……”
“…No, I didn’t.” Michikatsu replied stiffly, though he appeared momentarily frozen, clearly caught off guard. After a beat, he added, “...Those weren’t my exact words.”
Despite his denial, you sensed his embarrassment. The previously rigid atmosphere between the brothers softened instantly, confirming your guess.
Not my exact words? You could’ve applauded Michikatsu for his rebuttal. Truth be told, aside from some exaggerations you added, most of the phrases were word-for-word quotes from him.
Now, your classmates relaxed slightly, some stifling giggles. Subtle, rose-colored emotions filled the air. Was that imaginary pink bubble floating around the room?
Michikatsu finally regained his composure, his voice cutting through the lingering amusement: “Focus. Let’s continue the lesson.” His commanding tone forced you to scribble notes about the Midterm again, feigning normalcy. But deep inside, you knew you’d never forget this day.
___________________________
Time flew by as exams approached. It wasn’t until Hogwarts’ Christmas Feast that you found a moment to breathe. Spotting the two professors, you noticed them clinking glasses and exchanging soft words at their table. With some friends, you went around offering greetings to your professors. When you reached Michikatsu and Yoriichi, both appeared slightly tipsy, their flushed faces resembling twins.
Though hesitant at first, Michikatsu’s quiet praise—calling you one of his best students—filled you with giddy delight. The festive atmosphere washed away your anxieties.
Days passed. As you embraced the summer before your seventh year, the thought struck you: maybe it’s time to leave reviews for future students. Just as what you have read before your sixth grade. You can't wait for this.
Tsugikuni Yoriichi
Rating: 5.0/5.0
An absolute must-have professor! Yoriichi genuinely cares about his students and wants everyone to succeed. He goes above and beyond to make lectures engaging, and thanks to the methods he provides, mastering transfiguration becomes increasingly achievable. It’s incredibly rewarding! Although the Transfiguration class can be challenging, hard work truly pays off. Yoriichi even allows extensions on all assignments! While earning an "Outstanding" (O) grade might be tough, he ensures no one scores below an "Acceptable" (A). Professor Yoriichi, we love you!
The only downside is that he’s almost impossible to catch after class. Whenever I try to approach him, he replies kindly but disappears in a flash.
P.S. This semester, I realized that when he vanishes, he reappears somewhere else almost immediately. During an unexpected public confrontation, I saw just how clingy he can be. Yes, I used the word "confrontation" to describe Professor Yoriichi—it’s true and undeniable. Professor Yoriichi, we wish you and your love enjoy a great new year!
Tsugikuni Michikatsu
Rating: 5.0/5.0
Professor Michikatsu is one of the most charismatic professors I’ve ever met. He’s strict but fair—if you fail, it’s because you didn’t put in the effort. So, stop complaining! If you’re struggling, visit his office. He’ll definitely help you as long as you’re eager to learn.
That said, the course is brutally challenging. As much as I admire him, I have to admit I enjoyed the two days he took off this semester—it was a rare breather. The difficulty is so intense that if I had a time machine, I wouldn’t go back to stop any historical tragedies. Instead, I’d go back four months and drop this class. Never again would I dream of becoming an Auror.
I initially wanted to give him a 4.0, but he truly deserves the extra point. Cheers to Professor Michikatsu and his Auror!
P.S. They say many great wizards lack logic and reasoning skills. Here’s a big thank-you to Professor Michikatsu for providing me with an entire semester’s worth of logic puzzles to solve. I finally cracked them, but it took me till the very end. To the incoming students: best of luck! May the joy of solving his riddles in the last moment be as fulfilling for you as it was for me.
-End-
Happy new year!