Chapter Twenty-Nine
NOT SO ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVELS
That weekend, Harry discovered that it was much easier to make promises than to keep them. On Friday night, he had decided to tell Hermione how he felt about her, but he was just too nervous to do it on Saturday morning. His excuse had changed with the hour of the day, and by that evening, Harry had reasoned his way out of telling her. Hermione had enough to worry about already without his feelings for her. Sunday had almost looked promising; the two had been alone because Ron had gone off with Anna. However, everything had been so comfortable that he didn't want to ruin it with an ill-attempted declaration of what had to be love, or at least a very strong like that very much scared Harry with its intensity.
So, as quickly and as excitingly as it had begun, the weekend was just as quickly-albeit less excitingly-over.
He might have ignored how he was feeling, but there was something else that weekend that Harry did not ignore. By the time Monday morning rolled around, Harry was more than sick of O.W.L.s. He might not have taken them yet, but he had studied for them all weekend.
He and Ron had been suckered into Parvati and Lavender's impromptu Divination study session. Harry had gone a bit morbid, twice "seeing" his own demise. Ron thought this was incredibly funny, so Harry had gone on to predict his best friend's death. All the while, he had shot grins over his shoulder to Hermione, who kept rolling her eyes.
There had been a bit of an explosion when Harry and Neville decided to work on an aging potion that had come on the O.W.L.s the year before. Ron had been all too pleased when they offered it to him to slip into Fred and George's goblets at dinner; the mischief was scheduled for Monday night.
Harry and Ron and Hermione had spent part of Sunday down at Hagrid's hut, being served tea and cookies of Madam Maxime's making as he helped them revise for the portion of the exam that looked at their knowledge of magical beasts. He had showed them the invitations that Madam Maxime had picked out, and he had made them promise once more to be at the wedding, which would take place at the end of August.
The only other notable thing that had happened was the tremendous fireworks display that Fred and George had put on to celebrate finishing their N.E.W.T.s.
It wasn't that it was a bad weekend, but Harry still wished he had talked to Hermione. He didn't understand how she could go from kissing him the way she had to completely ignoring the fact that they might be something more than platonic. As he shuffled into the Great Hall five minutes late to breakfast on Monday, that was what he was thinking as he tried (and failed) to smooth over his messy hair.
"Morning," said Hermione. She was pouring through her Arithmancy book for what had to be the thousandth time. He glanced over to where Ron usually sat, but he wasn't there yet. Harry couldn't even remember whether his friend had gotten up before or after him.
"Hey," said Harry, and he bent over to kiss her cheek. Maybe now wouldn't be such a bad time to talk to her. "Hermione, I was thinking-" His throat was suddenly very dry. "-That..."
"Yes?" said Hermione, looking over to him. Her eyes settled even with his, and Harry lost his nerve. He wasn't allowed to like her like that; she was his best friend, after all.
"Today's not going to be easy," Harry blurted, not really thinking. Hermione patted his leg, and he had to catch his breath in his throat.
"You'll do fine, Harry," said Hermione. She smiled at him before gesturing at the other side of the table. "Where's Ron?" she asked curiously.
Harry shrugged. "I haven't seen him yet?"
"He's your roommate."
"That doesn't mean I've seen him," said Harry stubbornly. Suddenly, realizing how that had sounded, he added, "Er, not like that. I think we both woke up late."
"Well, he'd better get down here on time," said Hermione, "or he's going to have a real time of it. The Portkeys are all set to go at a quarter to ten."
"The Portkeys?" Harry said, stabbing at a sausage with his fork. He pulled it from the platter in front of him and put it on his plate. "What Portkeys? Where are we going?"
"Apparently the Ministry decided last night that they wanted to have the O.W.L.s at the London Headquarters," said Hermione, passing a garish bit of orange parchment. "McGonagall's already been by; she gave me these to give to you and Ron. She says that it was a massive organizational disaster last night, trying to coordinate everything with the wards here and there."
"I thought that we just tested here," said Harry nervously, absently fiddling with his fork as he studied his ticket. It wasn't more than a rectangle of orange parchment. There were only two words on it: Potter, Harry. Hermione had put Ron's in front of his usual seat. Their redheaded friend was on his way to the table, looking quite tired.
"Well, I think that the O.W.L.s usually are given here," said Hermione, shrugging. "At least, I've never heard any of the older students mention otherwise. They gave the N.E.W.T.s here last week; I don't see what's different except that N.E.W.T.s are supposed-good morning, Ron-to be more difficult."
"Huh?" Ron's pale face was positively green. "We start our O.W.L.s today," he said forlornly, as if he had been unaware of this until only a few minutes before. "Today. Can you believe that?"
"We've only known-" Harry stopped what he was saying, looking to his left. Hermione had started to say the exact same thing at the exact same time. He grinned. "We've only known that all year, Ron."
"Do you understand what this means?" said Ron, mostly to his toast. "This week determines what classes we take next year. It determines where we'll end up in life. It determines whether we're decent wizards or awful ones."
"I wouldn't take it that far," said Hermione without even looking up. "Eat something, Ron. You'll be hungry later." She studied him. "Did Fred and George pull you aside for another one of their little chats?"
"They put you in little rooms," said Ron. This time, he was talking to a glass of milk. "They make you write ten and twelve page essays on nothing in particular. They ask you to perform spells no one's ever heard of."
"Ron," said Harry patiently, pulling bits of bread from his roll and popping them into his mouth, "Fred and George also told you that the Sorting Ceremony had to do with wrestling trolls."
"That came shortly after," said Ron stubbornly, but he did take a bite of his sausage, scowling in the twins' direction all the while. "You know, if Percy had just told them about the exams like any normal brother would have, then they wouldn't be so concerned with keeping the bloody experience from me."
"Take a deep breath, Ron," said Hermione. "It's not a big deal. You're smart; you'll do fine."
"Easy for you to say," said Ron stubbornly. "You don't even have to take half of it!"
Hermione looked like she had been slapped, and Ron lost all the color that had come back into his cheeks.
"Oh Merlin, Hermione, I'm so sorry," said Ron, his hand flying to his mouth. It was the first time Harry had really seen his friend apologize for something he had just blurted out. "I didn't mean it. I really didn't. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Ron," said Hermione snappishly. Harry shut his eyes for a second. He did not want the two of them at each other's throats. It was the last thing that any of them needed.
"Hey," said Harry quietly, "I don't think he meant anything by it."
Hermione's features softened at the sound of Harry's voice. She bit her lip and nodded. "Sorry, Ron," she said quickly. She gave them a very appraising look, eyes set firmly. "The two of you need to stop treating me like I'm so fragile, though, because I'm not."
"We weren't," said Harry and Ron at once.
"Oh!" said Hermione, ignoring them both. "Ron, they've decided to have the O.W.L.s at the Ministry in London. They've give us all Portkeys; don't go throwing yours away-it's that orange parchment."
Ron flipped over the card of orange parchment with disinterest. "Okay," he said, and his eyes suddenly grew wide. "What? Why are we going to London to take our O.W.L.s? What are they playing at? They've never sent fifth-years to the Ministry to take them!"
"Well, they are this year," said Hermione nonchalantly. "Does it make a difference where we take them, Ron?"
The youngest Weasley boy narrowed his eyes. "I'm telling you, this whole testing thing is a conspiracy. I don't see any point in testing our skills as a wizard. What's it going to do but make us feel bad?" he said, and he seemed to lose all his appetite, folding his arms across his chest.
"Hermione?" said Harry, turning to her. He knew she'd be able to put down Ron's complaints.
"Well, I believe you've already mentioned a few reasons why they're useful," said Hermione, beginning to tick those reasons off on her fingers. "It lets the professors know what classes to put us in. It boosts our scores going into N.E.W.T.s, which in turn help us get jobs when we're older. And-honestly, Ron! What do you have to worry about?"
"Oh, let's see," said Ron bitingly, sticking his own fingers out for a count. "I've got five older brothers, or did you forget? Percy and Bill got twelve O.W.L.s each. Charlie got ten-not as many, but quite a few. The twins got nine each, which wasn't quite good enough for Mum, but it's still above average!"
"You know, Ron," said Hermione, "I know you're horribly lacking in self-confidence at the moment, but I, at least, have faith in you. Now calm down, and grab your things. You'll do fine."
Harry grinned. "She's right, Ron."
"Yeah, yeah," said Ron, the tips of his ears turning red. He leaned across the table and grabbed Harry's wrist to look at his watch. "How much longer until we have to go?"
At about that moment, Professor McGonagall stood up at the high table and began to gesture for attention. Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore was not around. "Fifth years!" she called. "Portkeys will activate in about five minutes, so if everyone would gather their things and wait outside the Great Hall. You needn't bring anything that you don't already have with you. Teachers that will be helping with today's testing that have not already headed to Hogsmeade should do so immediately."
"Why are the teachers going to Hogsmeade?" said Harry, grabbing his Transfiguration text up under his arm. He'd been planning to study it a little more over breakfast but hadn't gotten around to it. He put an arm around Hermione's shoulders as she stood up. He ignored Ron's sniggers.
"You can't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts ground, Harry," said Ron in a perfect impression of Hermione. She just laughed, nestling up closer to Harry. This made their friend shake his head. Walking off ahead of them, he declared, "I will never understand the two of you."
"Fifth years!" called McGonagall. She was eyeing some of the Slytherins, all of whom were shuffling stupidly from foot to foot. "Now, as you know, there was a little change of plans last night. The Ministry mandates O.W.L.s, but never before have they monitored them so closely. Of course, all will be explained to you in good time. Take your tickets and-"
She didn't get a chance to finish, but Harry had to hope that everyone had heard her because he felt a pull on his middle as the orange parchment lifted him right up. He was jerked upwards roughly, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and a few seconds later, Harry found himself thrown hard against a marble floor. Ron managed to remain standing, but Hermione had also gotten knocked off her feet. Harry picked himself up and offered her a hand up.
"Er... Hogwarts, quarter till ten!"
The trio turned around quickly as their classmates scrambled up. There were other students there as well, students that they did not recognize. They were wearing different robes and uniforms, so Harry knew at once they were from one of the smaller wizarding schools. The wizard that had announced their arrival was a young sort of fellow; he looked a little older than Ron's brother Percy but younger than Charlie. He was a shorter than Harry, with close-cropped black hair. His clothes were a bit mismatched, and he looked like he hadn't gotten a chance for sleep or a shave in several days.
"Er, everyone," he said, waving his arms. "Everyone, over here, please. My name's Kyle Quensot, and this is Darius Brooks, and Eliza Eladus." The young wizard gestured to an older, much sterner looking wizard standing next to him. The older wizard was scowling. Next to him was a squat witch with a kind face. "Anyway... things are going to be a little different than what you were expecting today, as you probably already know. The tests aren't any harder, though, so don't worry." He laughed nervously.
"Well, we're going to divide you up now. If everyone that's not from Hogwarts would follow Ms. Eladus today, thank you. That way, yes." Mr. Quensot seemed to be gaining confidence now that the other students had cleared. "Everyone will last names A through K should follow Mr. Brooks. Everyone else, that's L through Z, you can come with me."
"Right, squirt," said the old wizard, Mr. Brooks, sourly. He folded his arms and barked, "You heard him! Get on with it! We don't have all day!"
Harry and Ron sent Hermione the most sympathetic of looks as she turned to follow Mr. Brooks out of the room. Immediately, someone was at her side. It was Justin Finch-Fletchy. Harry felt a bit better, knowing at least that someone would be kind to her.
Quensot was gesturing in the opposite direction, and the Hogwarts students with names in the lower half of the alphabet filed quietly behind him. Harry wished desperately that Hermione had been in their group; Quensot was already cracking jokes and trying to calm their nerves.
"You know, I was a Hogwarts graduate," Quensot was saying. "I was a Hufflepuff, but I had friends in nearly every house. Now, these tests aren't so bad, so don't get nervous just because some higher people wanted to give them to you here. Okay, everyone, space yourselves out. I'll put the quills and the booklets out in just a moment..."
Harry didn't even have time to marvel at the grand interior of the Ministry of Magic, for he had started his exam a moment later.
* * *
Harry sidestepped quickly to be knocked to his rear by Mr. Quensot's Upending Charm. This duel had gone on for ages, and Harry was getting rather tired of it. It was nearly killing him; he'd done something to the shoulder Marks had injured early on. Now, it was all he could do to clutch his upper right arm with his left hand and brace himself against the pain.
Aiming rather blindly, Harry panted, "Impedimenta!"
"Oooh!" Quensot muttered. He sounded just as surprised as Harry felt-the wards and charms on the Ministry room seemed to deflect spells not cast just perfectly.
"Expelliarmus!" said Harry. Quensot's wand shot out of his hand, spun quite creatively, and spiraled in Harry's direction. Harry caught it cleanly, grinning all the while.
Considering that they'd been at it for over half an hour, it seemed right to keep silent as both Harry and Quensot caught their breath. It was Thursday morning, the third and final day of O.W.L. examinations, and each Hogwarts students had to go up against either Mr. Quensot or Mr. Brooks. While the students didn't have to win, they certainly got better marks for it. Nobody had won yet, but nearly everyone had been able to hold his or her own for at least ten minutes. Harry was only one of a handful to last much longer.
As Harry passed Quensot back his wand, he was grateful for exactly two things. First, he was glad to have Quensot as his examiner in dueling, and second, there was just one more examination to be taken, that afternoon. He was trying to quite hard to forget that this one would be on potion brewing. Harry had a feeling that it would be a ridiculously complicated draught of Snape's choosing and the only one of its type that he wasn't familiar with.
It had been the longest of weeks, and it was only Thursday. Monday's exams had been the worst for Harry. He didn't see how six hours of grueling written exams could be good for one's sanity. It wasn't even that Harry didn't know his stuff because he did, but it was something completely different to put the physics of magic into words. A particular brief essay on multi-purpose draughts had taken him so long that he didn't get to a question about common magical maladies to which he knew the answer.
Tuesday's practical exams were much more interesting, especially in terms of mishaps. Harry had done reasonably well, only making some small errors in his transfiguration of a cat to a stool and back again. He had overdone a Cheering Charm as well. Had he been in Quensot's group that day, he was sure that the second mistake would have been pretty much overlooked, but Harry's examiner at that point and time had been Mr. Brooks. This was okay, though, because it meant that Quensot had done Hermione's examiner. The older Ministry wizard had no heart and liked to tell people so.
Of the many interesting things that happened on Tuesday, Seamus had accidentally turned his own hand into a sock. Parvati had absentmindedly used her wand to stir an essence reading for Divination and ignited the testing room. (Harry had only been asked to read tea leaves.) Harry's big laugh of the week had come at Ron's expense, though. When asked to recall a dream to interpret, Ron had made the mistake of saying he couldn't recall one. Ms. Eladus, thinking she was being helpful, had cast a spell to reveal his last dream, which happened to involve Anna and things Harry would never let his best friend forget. Other comical moments included Neville charming Quensot's hair blue and Pansy Parkinson's banishing spells coming out the wrong end of her wand.
Wednesday was technically an off day, but the two main Hogwarts examiners-Quensot and Brooks-had Portkeyed into the school. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all been relieved to have been assigned to Quensot's group when it came time to discuss their Defense essays. Even though it wasn't his topic, the whole day had Harry worried about the Affinity of Relation's impact on Hermione.
"Harry?" said a grinning Quensot, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. "Off the record, of course, that was bloody fantastic. Would you like to see your marks?"
"Could I?" said Harry, pocketing his wand. He wiped his sweaty hands on his robes.
Quensot nodded. "Strictly speaking," he said, "I'm supposed to not look you in the eye and turn you on your way, but I hate the grading system of these tests more than most, so here you are. Full marks."
Harry's eyes bulged as he looked down the sheet. Indeed, his scores had been the highest on everything. "What?" he stammered.
"You're surprised," said Quensot briskly. He pushed up the sleeves of his robes. "Don't be. For what it's worth, Darius and Eliza and I, we're all the top duelers of our respective departments. That's why students were only asked to hold their own for a few minutes. You're the first to beat one of us, and I'm not even ashamed to admit it. Everything I've grown up hearing you seem to be true."
"Grown up hearing about me?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
Quensot smiled sheepishly. "Come off," he said, "you don't think me that old, do you? Nah, I was still at Hogwarts your first couple years there. I couldn't quite bring myself to call all the N.E.W.T.s students last week by their last names, and the habit carried over. Those were smaller schools, of course. You're the first group from Hogwarts to come through the Ministry. Usually, the teachers are seen as competent enough to administer the tests." Quensot shook his head. "I'd say that Barker just likes to pull authority. Never liked Dumbledore, that one."
Harry could have sworn Quensot winked at him.
"So," said Quensot cheerfully, "I just wanted to compliment you on that series of jinxes you used in the middle-Jelly Legs, Furnunculus, and Knee-Reversing, wasn't it? You must be one of Remus Lupin's scholars. I couldn't even hear half your curses!"
Harry nodded, and he had to suppress a smile when he noticed the spots on Quensot's face. It hadn't been that long ago when a tentacle had extended from each.
"Did you have Professor Lupin?" Harry wanted to know. Again, Quensot seemed to wink without even batting an eye.
"Lockhart-egotistical git-was the last I had. No," said Quensot, "I spent two and a half year studying Defense under Professor Rettrest at the Mact Timgill Academy, really small school up north, that is, but the man's a brilliant mind inside a failing body. His predecessor was so young herself that she didn't want me as apprentice. I've been here for six months, ever since Rettrest's stroke."
Quensot smiled. "But I know Lupin," he said. "Where do you think my loyalties lie? I'd love to teach at Hogwarts one day." And, as if they'd been talking of the weather, Quensot continued easily, "So what do you and your friends think of the O.W.L.s?"
Harry was so surprised by Quensot's casual revelation that the only noise for several moments came from the quiet conversation on the other side of the wall that divided Quensot's examination room from Brook's. Suddenly, there was a bit of yelling, a thud, and the sound of someone being sent out the door. Quensot looked thoughtful.
"Anyway," he said.
"The exams weren't as hard as I thought they would be," said Harry. He sniggered. "Tuesday was the best, though. My friend Ron, he's the one whose inappropriate daydream ended up projected on the wall."
"Took Eliza by surprise, that one," said Quensot.
"And my friend Hermione, she's the one that can't do magic right now," said Harry. "It was nice, what you did."
Quensot had given Hermione partial marks for thoroughly explaining each part of the practical exams she had been unable to do.
"Well," said Quensot, "it can't be easy for her." He checked his watch. "You'd best get on, now. I'm due to test... a J. L. Pugh, Slytherin."
"Well," said Harry, "thanks." He made for the door.
"Outstanding job, Harry," called Quensot. Once in the doorway, he consulted his clipboard. "Pugh, Jorway Lucius?" No one came.
Meanwhile, Harry was scanning the crowd of Hogwarts students for Hermione and Ron. He didn't see either of them at first, and then his gaze fell on a huddle of boys in a far corner of the waiting area. It struck him as peculiar, and then he saw some bushy brown hair in a gap between the two largest boys. Quensot had already noticed this. He was nearly there, but Harry took off anyway. He got there just in time to see Quensot wrench a beefy hand from Hermione's wrist, demanding to know what the boys were doing at the same time. Sure enough, the boys were Slytherins; one of them was probably even Pugh.
"Er..." said Quensot, studying Hermione. It seemed to dawn on him who she was. "Hermione, what did they do to you?"
Hermione eyes were frozen with fear, and she seemed unable to answer him. Then, she saw Harry, and the distance between them quickly closed. Flung into his arms, she managed, "Oh Harry! Ron went to find a bathroom when I went in for my exam, but Mr. Brooks yelled at me and threw me out because I couldn't do anything, and I was crying, and they cornered me, and now everyone knows that I'm Muggle!"
Harry patted her head awkwardly, aware that everyone's eyes were now on them.
Quensot looked furious. "You taunted this girl about her loss of magical ability?" he demanded. "You backed her into a corner and hit her? What gives you that right?"
"She's a Gryffindor!" said one of them, the one with the beefy hands. Harry was more concerned with the rising bruise on Hermione's cheek. He led her away as Quensot went off on the boys.
"I don't think I have ever been so disgusted by the behavior of students, or shocked by their cruelty, and that includes all the years I was a Hogwarts prefect and an apprentice at Mact Timgill. I will be speaking to your Head of House. I will be writing to the Headmaster. I will ask that your O.W.L.s not be graded." Quensot's eyes were flashing. "I am absolutely appalled at the ruthlessness you have shown, and I am equally appalled that your actions are hurting the reputation of the fine institution where I completed my studies."
And, prodding the four boys forcefully in the back, Quensot marched them to where Harry assumed the teachers were waiting for the exams to end. Harry sat Hermione down on one of the benches that outlined the room and kindly pulled her hand from her face.
"How do you charm away bruises?" Harry asked, lifting her face up to him. "Frendius?"
Hermione nodded, tears still in her eyes. Harry withdrew his wand, almost waiting for her to stop him. When she didn't, allowing him to touch its tip to her cheek, Harry was hit with the sudden realization of how much she trusted him. "Frendius," said Harry carefully.
"Thanks," said Hermione softly. She hastily wiped away what tears were in her eyes.
"They're not worth your tears," said Harry. Rooting his around in his pockets, he produced a rumpled but clean tissue. Hermione clutched it tightly after wiping her eyes.
"I don't care about them," said Hermione miserably. "It was Mr. Brooks. He didn't even read all of Professor McGonagall's letter before he began yelling at me." She wiped at her eyes again with the tissue, which hand been crushed to fit within her fist. "I'm not worthy to continue studying magic, in his opinion." In a small voice, Hermione concluded, "Everyone knows. They could all hear him."
Harry didn't get a chance to hear about how she'd ended up cornered because Seamus, Dean, Parvati, and Lavender had appeared on spot to see if their classmate was all right.
"I don't think they saw those vile boys grab my arm and pull me aside," said Hermione as they left, reading Harry's mind. "I'd excused myself to the restroom, actually."
"I'm glad you're okay," said Harry, pressing his lips gently to her temple in a sweet kiss. "Are any of them Marks's lackeys?"
"I would assume so," said Hermione, sitting close to Harry. He casually put an arm around her shoulder.
"You know," said Harry, "I've been thinking a lot about what happened the other-"
"How'd it go Harry?"
Ron was ambling toward them, and Harry swore under his breath. His courage to tell Hermione how he felt about her had disappeared as Ron appeared. "Outstanding," said Harry. "I actually got full marks. Beat Quensot and everything."
"Did you?" said Ron, amazed. He dropped down to Hermione's other side. "Bloody hell, mate, that's fantastic!"
"Thanks," said Harry, grinning. "Where have you been?"
Ron's expression grew dark; he scowled. "I really need to pee, but the only person anywhere that knew where things were was Snape. Slimy git personally sent me in the opposite direction. I ended up in a caretaker's closet with some unruly broomsticks thrashing about."
Hermione giggled; Harry grinned. Ron just shook his head as he studied his two best friends. Then, he seemed to notice Hermione's cheek. It was still faintly purple. Startled, he asked. "Well, aren't you going to tell me what all went down while I was searching for the loo and had to settle for a bucket?"
* * *
It was amazing, really, the relieved expressions on the fifth years' faces as they filed out of the Great Hall after dinner with the rest of the school. Harry looked outside, forlornly noting the intensity of the storm raging beyond the castle's walls. Even though Quidditch was over this season for the Gryffindor team, there had been one more practice scheduled for that evening. Harry figured it would be a fun practice, a three-on-three and one game followed by a lengthy discussion to confirm the departing students'-Angelina, Alicia, George, and Fred-views on the future. But that wouldn't be happening, not as long as the rain, thunder, and lightening kept up.
"No Quidditch tonight," said Ron, sounding just like Harry felt. "Damn. I wanted to run Seamus by Fred and George as a possibility. I saw him playing the other day, with Dean, and he's good."
"Is he?" Harry asked. Ron nodded. "Chaser or Beater?"
"I can't say yet," said Ron. "He plays both well."
Hermione didn't seem to care about the future line up of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She was, however, curious about why they had a scheduled practice that evening. She said, "I thought only Slytherin and Hufflepuff were yet to play."
"It was just going to be a fun practice," said Harry, stopping short to watch the storm from the windows of the Entrance Hall. A Gryffindor second year ran right into him and seemed so shocked by the Boy Who Lived's precense that he couldn't manage an apology, so he backed away, wide-eyed. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Er, anyway, we were just going to play three-on-three and one."
"That's when you play two teams, each with one Keeper, Chaser, and Beater, against each other," said Ron to Hermione. "Keeper acts as a Chaser then, too, and goals are worth triple. Seeker plays a game against himself and wins if he catches the Snitch before one of the teams scores five times."
"Sounds..." said Hermione.
"How about we talk about something you can understand?" said Harry, grinning down at her. Because of the storm, Professor Flitwick had had to charm the Entrance Hall full of bright, artificial light. Hermione's cheek still looked very bruised under the garish light, which worried Harry. He grabbed her chin to tilt back her head. "Maybe you could stand a visit to Madam Pomfrey," he said bravely.
"I need no such thing," said Hermione crossly. Harry tilted her face to the side. He'd listen to her as soon as he saw for himself that she was fine.
"What do you think, Ron?" said Harry.
"I think," said Ron tentatively, "that you should probably drop the subject and back away from Hermione before she knees you in the balls."
"Ron!" Hermione scolded, but she was laughing. She was also a bit red in the face, as was Harry. Ron just grinned, falling into step on one side of her; Harry was on the other.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione seemed to forget that her two best friends were on either side of her because she turned so at the sound of her name and very nearly landed Ron on the floor. It was Professor Snape, looking much greasier under the charm's light.
"If you'll forgive my curiosity," said Snape lowly, "I couldn't help but wonder if Potter was right. However, it seems that he was being... overly concerned. You did not see Madam Pomfrey?"
"Excuse me?" said Hermione timidly.
"A member of my house put his fist to your face earlier today, or have you forgotten?" Snape wore an amused sort of smile. "I overhead Potter expressing his concern, and I wanted to check if I should send you to the hospital wing-that is, if you haven not already been."
"I haven't," said Hermione. Ron was eyeing the Potions master, but Harry was, as always, looking out for Hermione.
"No?" said Snape. "It looks like it."
"Harry did a healing charm on it ages ago."
"Did he?" Snape wondered. "Well, that's nicely done, Potter. Perhaps-perhaps you have your mother's talent for healing." He gave them a collective, calculating look. "Granger," he said at last, "well done today at the Ministry. I was told that your Potions work was exemplary."
And Snape headed in the direction of the dungeons, his robes billowing behind him. Ron stared after him.
"Barking," said Ron at last, shaking his head.
Hermione took one look at him, one at Harry, and squealed, "Did you hear that? I must have gotten it, then, my Potions O.W.L.!" She said all of this very quickly, and threw herself into Harry's arms. He caught her easily, laughing. Ron looked amused.
"Glad to know that at least one of us is proficient in Potions," said Ron dryly. Harry was still laughing as he lowered Hermione to the ground.
"Oh, Ron," said Hermione anxiously, "you didn't do well?"
Ron snorted. "Did you ever glance up and look over those ridiculous shields they put up?" Hermione nodded. "Did you happen to notice the torrents of blue smoke rising from one in the far corner?" Hermione's eyes widened. "You've got it-how about you, Harry? Where were you in the room, and what color smoke did yours end up spewing?"
"Almost the middle of the room, Ron, but no smoke for me," said Harry, casually putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders. On her other side, Ron had already done the same. "Nah, no smoke. My brew was the one actually giving off sparks."
Hermione looked horrified as she hurried down the hall between them, trying to keep up with their longer strides. "Harry... Ron..." she said miserably, "I didn't mean to make you feel bad."
The boys grinned over her head. "I don't know about Ron," said Harry, dropping his head to her level, "but I felt a little weird brewing the potion that damn near killed you, Hermione."
And so it was. The potion that they'd been asked to make was Forveret Bursen. Harry had been so shaken by the realization that they were to brew the dangerous potion that had so hurt Hermione and so confused by the Ministry's insistence that it be the concoction on the exams that he had been a total mess for most of the two-hour testing period. He'd dropped every single thing that had made its way into his hand and even some that hadn't. He'd poured this and that into his cauldron in no particular order. Again and again, Hermione's tortured screams all those months before had shattered his concentration, turning him into a twitchy bundle of nerves unable to do anything accurately. It was probably a good thing that he hadn't actually managed to create anything because he kept sloshing out what he had made onto himself.
It had been a disaster. Harry knew it; Quensot even knew it. After the sparks had started flying, he had come over an apologetically removed Harry from the testing area.
"It wasn't a big deal," said Hermione softly.
"Then why are you so pale?" said Ron knowingly.
In the same tone as before, Hermione said, "Don't be silly, Ron." To Harry, she said, "It was a long time ago."
Harry squeezed her tightly before letting go of her. They were at the stairs now. "It does bother you."
"A little," said Hermione quietly.
"You know everything, Hermione," said Ron suddenly. `Why do we even need to know how to make that vile... and the look you're giving me says that I should already know this."
"Forveret Bursen is actually the base of the Wolfsbane potion," said Hermione, sounding very much like a textbook, "but unlike Wolfsbane, it can be neutralized and stored for just about ever. Of course, the complicated part that follows is what truly makes it Wolfsbane. I reckon Snape rather likes that challenge, but he wouldn't want to spend too much time on anything concerning Lupin, so he had us make Forveret Bursen. It actually is just at O.W.L."
"Great," said Harry under his breath. "Snape's convenience for your health."
"That doesn't explain why the Ministry wanted us to make it," said Ron. He looked thoughtful. "Then again, the Ministry hasn't done or allowed anything that made sense for ages."
"That's-" Hermione started. "That's-well, yeah."
"So you actually managed O.W.L. in Potions without any magical ability to speak of?" Ron asked. He looked impressed. You might still outscore Harry and I."
"How will that look for us?" Harry wanted to know. Hermione ignored both of them.
"I don't care so much about that," she said briskly, stepping onto the castle's seventh floor. "Did you see the hourglasses when we were in the Entrance Hall, or were you too absorbed with Quidditch? Yes, I figured as much. Anyway, Slytherin's down two hundred from this morning, and that was Snape's doing. McGonagall told me after I sat the afternoon exams."
"If I didn't know better, Hermione, I'd say you were pleased!" Ron grinned. "Is there something we should-OW!"
"What's wrong?" Hermione said, startled.
"Emiolet!" Ron groaned, seizing something. "Ran into my head, the stupid feather ball!"
"Emily?" said Harry.
"No, Emiolet," said Ron, opening his fist to reveal a white owl a little smaller than Pigwidgeon. "Em-my-oh-lee. Anna's owl... feathery nuisance, if you ask me."
Emiolet continued hooting excitedly around Ron's head as he unfolded the piece of parchment she'd been carrying, reminding Harry very much of Pigwidgeon. As he read the note, Ron batted absently about his head to ward off the bitty owl. Harry felt Hermione's fingers curl around his own.
"They've even got the same type of owl," she whispered, pointing to Emiolet, who was trying to nip at Ron's ear.
"Yeah, and look at the way his face lights up as he reads," Harry whispered back, grinning and pointing. He leaned down to her. "I think ickle Ronniekins is in lo-ove."
"So what if I am, Potter?"
Harry felt something thud against the side of his head. Emiolet hooted angrily this time.
"You just threw an owl!" said Hermione. She stared disapprovingly. Ron shrugged, pocketing the note.
"Yeah, go back to Anna, Em," said Ron, waving the owl away. It hooted happily, and off it went. "Now, what were you saying about my girlfriend, Harry?"
"Only good things," said Harry. He tugged on Hermione's hand and followed a few feet behind Ron.
"What did she have to say, Ron?" Hermione asked kindly.
"Heading off to another rendezvous?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
"Yeah, but you're invited this time, you git," said Ron, and before Harry's face could pass through too many levels of confusion, he tossed the parchment over to them. `Er," said Ron, going very red, "maybe you could... uh... skip the beginning. You know, the first few lines. They're kind of..."
Harry grinned, standing shoulder to shoulder with Hermione, and began to read.
Dear Ron,
It's so silly-I saw you on Sunday, four days ago, and it seems like it's been forever. It also seems like forever since we've really gotten a chance to talk or do anything together. I'm telling you, Ron, you'd better do well, or else! (I don't yet know what that "else" is yet, but trust me, it'll be bad). No, don't you worry-you might not think you can do it, but I know that you can.
So, I keep hearing some story about how I came up on Tuesday. Anything you'd like to tell me, dear? John hasn't heard yet; let's try to keep it that way. Please, Ron, you don't know what it's like. We have to keep this a secret.
Anyway, there's actually a reason for me to be writing to you. Aunt Vanessa wrote back to me about Clara-way more than I was expecting, and I think you'll be surprised. Will you meet me in the garden at nine? Bring Harry and Hermione, if you'd like.
I love you, Ron. Thanks for understanding.
Yours,
Anna
Because Harry and Hermione continued to walk as they read, the trio was at the portrait hole by the time Harry had finished. (Hermione had always been a much faster reader than either of the boys.) Harry looked up at Ron, grinning. Ron went scarlet, even more than before.
"You didn't skip the beginning, did you?" Ron grumbled. He gave the Fat Lady the password, which had been "Gryffindor for the cup," for several days now.
"Or the end," said Harry innocently as he scrambled through the portrait hole behind Hermione.
"Give me that," said Ron, snatching the parchment from Harry before he'd even stepped into the common room, which prompted Harry to throw up his hands in mock surrender. Hermione shook her head, clucking her tongue in mild disapproval. Ron, meanwhile, was scanning the room for a place to sit. The password to the prefect common room had been changed at that week's meeting, and they hadn't seen any of the other prefects yet.
"Hey!" Ron called finally. "Little people by the fire! Don't you have somewhere better to be? Like-over in the corner, playing Gobstones?"
As the three first years surrendered their seats, Ron got more than just their dirty looks. Hermione, too, looked displeased.
"Ron," she scolded, "you have no right to order those kids around. You used to hate it when older students would do it to us!"
"Hermione," said Ron, "you seem to have missed the point. There will come a time when they will boss around students younger than themselves, so we have to make sure that they get theirs now."
Hermione probably would have continued to glare at him had Harry not grabbed her arm gently and directed her to the chair nearest the fire. "See? They're actually over there playing Gobstones already. They would have moved eventually."
Hermione harrumphed one last time. She said, "Now, if you're done making fun of each other and acting superior." She looked at each of them in turn before curling her knees up underneath her and resting her cheek on top of her hands on the arm of the chair.
"Tired?" Harry said, brushing back her bushy hair with his hand while Ron made gagging noises. He scooted his chair closer to hers so that the arms were touching and draped an arm around her.
"A little," Hermione admitted.
"Take a nap," suggested Ron from across the way. "We've got an hour an a half until we need to meet Anna."
"No, I'm really okay," said Hermione, but a yawn betrayed her at that moment.
"It's okay," said Harry. "Everyone's worn out from O.W.L.s. I'll make sure you're up in time. Go upstairs to sleep."
"Are you sure?" said Hermione dubiously.
"I promise," said Harry. She lifted her head and stood up, smoothing her skirt. She walked over and hugged Ron.
"Don't make fun of the first years at all, Ron," said Hermione. She walked back over to Harry. "And Harry, you don't make too much fun of Ron."
"Hey!" said Ron incredulously. Hermione just grinned, bending down to hug Harry as well. Without really giving it a second though, Harry kissed her lightly. Hermione smiled a little and waved at the boys as she made her way back up the girls' staircase.
"Mate," said Ron with awe, "you just kissed her!"
Harry was still watching where she had disappeared into the girls' dormitory. Amazed, he said, "Yeah, I think I just did."
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