Chapter 27 – The List and Exams
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As though to underline the importance of our upcoming examinations, a batch of pamphlets, leaflets, and notices concerning various wizarding careers appeared on the tables in Gryffindor Tower shortly before the end of the holidays, along with yet another notice on the board, which read:

'CAREERS ADVICE

All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below.' 

I looked down the list and found that I was expected in Professor McGonagall's office at half past two on Monday, which would mean missing most of Divination. Me and the other fifth-years spent a considerable part of the final weekend of the Easter break reading all the careers information that had been left there for our perusal.

"Well, I don't fancy Healing." Ron said on the last evening of the holidays. He was immersed in a leaflet that carried the crossed bone-and-wand emblem of St. Mungo's on its front. "It says here you need at least 'E' at NEWT level in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. I mean... blimey... don't want much, do they?" 

"Well, it's a very responsible job, isn't it?" Hermione said absently.

She was poring over a bright pink and orange leaflet, that was headed, 'SO YOU THINK YOU'D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS?' "You don't seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles; all they want is an OWL in Muggle Studies: Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience, and a good sense of fun!" 

"You'd need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with our uncle." Harry said darkly. "Good sense of when to duck, more like." He was halfway through a pamphlet on wizard banking. "Listen to this: Are you seeking a challenging career involving travel, adventure, and substantial, danger-related treasure bonuses? Then consider a position with Gringotts Wizarding Bank, who are currently recruiting Curse-Breakers for thrilling opportunities abroad... They want Arithmancy, though; you could do it, Hermione!" 

"I don't much fancy banking." Hermione said vaguely, now immersed in: 'HAVE YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES TO TRAIN SECURITY TROLLS?'

"Hey." A voice in my ear said. I looked round; Fred and George had come to join us. "You're still wanting to be a partner at WWW, right?" Fred said, stretching out his legs on the table in front of us and causing several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic to slide off on to the floor. "You're not gonna become a Healer or anything random, are you?" 

"As if." I snorted. "Nah, I'm definitely gonna join you guys, why would I want to be excluded from the banter?" 

"Is that all you're wanting to do, though?" Fred said, nodding towards the leaflet in my hand. I smiled slyly, holding it up.

"Well, I was also thinking about a career in Quidditch." I said. "I think I want to play professionally. And being an Auror sounds badass; maybe if I'm especially skilled in Defence Against the Dark Arts, which I am, AND including my extra powers from my Grace, I could be an independent contractor they bring in sometimes to thwart extra-evil Dark wizards." 

Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Kylie, and Hermione all exchanged glances with each other across the table. 

"Sounds like you've got everything figured out, baby." Kylie said, surprised. 

"Well, yeah. Being an Auror sounds fun, but I don't know if I'd want to do it full time." I said. "Quidditch obviously wouldn't be a full time all year round thing, so I could still work at WWW." 

"My ambitious girl." Kylie said affectionately, pulling me in closer to her. I giggled as she pressed a light kiss to my forehead. 

Fred's eyebrows furrowed. "YOU don't have to be especially ambitious, do you, Kylie? Seeing as everything was handed to you on a silver platter?" 

I rolled my eyes. Kylie regarded Fred with a haughty smirk. "You're right, I don't. That's because at the age of sixteen, I already have a very successful musical career, unlike most." 

The two stared at each other, one glaring, one smirking with an expression of mixed amusement and triumph. Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the Cultivated Fungus Trade and was watching the tension warily. 

"Um." Harry said. "I thought I'd quite like to be an Auror, too. And playing Quidditch professionally sounds fun." 

"That's true." Ron agreed. "If only I wasn't so awful at Keeping..." He said sadly. 

"Aw, c'mon, Ron, we beat Ravenclaw the other week, didn't we? By only thirty points, mind you, but we still beat them!" I said encouragingly. 

"Still got Slytherin to go again, though." He said glumly. Slytherin had sought a rematch and was granted it by Umbitch, meaning we had to play them again. 

"You'll be fine." I reassured him. 

"Plus, morale will be up again soon." George said. 

"What? Why?" Hermione said sharply, freezing with her hand halfway towards picking up 'MAKE A BANG AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL ACCIDENTS AND CATASTROPHES'.

"You might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?" George said, stretching and smiling. 

"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" Fred continued. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's revision, too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do." 

He gave Hermione a sanctimonious little nod. She looked rather taken aback by this thoughtfulness.

"But it's business as usual from tomorrow." Fred continued briskly. 

~~~

"Hello, Miss Potter, come in." Professor McGonagall said briskly as I entered her office, but as she spoke, somebody else sniffed from the corner. I looked round.

Umbridge was sitting there, a clipboard on her knee, a fussy little pie-frill around her neck and a small, horribly smug smile on her face.

"Sit down, Miss Potter." Professor McGonagall said tersely. She shuffled the many pamphlets littering her desk.

I sat down with my back to Umbridge and did my best to pretend I could not hear the scratching of her quill on her clipboard.

"Well, Miss Potter, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into the sixth and seventh years." Professor McGonagall said. "Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?" 

"Well, I'm definitely going to be a business partner in my friends' joke shop." I said. "I also thought of playing Quidditch professionally, and maybe being a contracted Auror, part time." 

"You'd need business smarts for running a business, but it seems you four already have those." Professor McGonagall said, a small smile playing at her lips. "You'd need to keep up with your Quidditch training for professional playing, of course. Being made Quidditch Captain would help immensely. And as for becoming an Auror, you'd need top grades for that." Professor McGonagall said, extracting a small, dark leaflet from under the mass on her desk and opening it. "They ask for a minimum of five NEWTs, and nothing under 'Exceeds Expectations' grade, I see. Then you would be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It's a difficult career path, Miss Potter, they only take the best. In fact, I don't think anybody has been taken on in the last three years."

At this moment, Umbridge gave a very tiny cough, as though she was trying to see how quietly she could do it. Professor McGonagall ignored her.

"You'll want to know which subjects you ought to take, I suppose?" She went on, talking a little louder than before.

"Yeah." I said. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, I guess?" 

"Naturally." Professor McGonagall said crisply. "I would also advise -" 

Umbridge gave another cough, a little more audible this time. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though nothing had happened.

"I would also advise Transfiguration, because Aurors frequently need to Transfigure or Untransfigure in their work. And I ought to tell you now, Miss Potter, that I do not accept students into my NEWT classes unless they have achieved 'Exceeds Expectations' or higher at Ordinary Wizarding Level. I'd say you're averaging that at the moment, so you'll need to keep it up to stand a chance of continuing. Then you ought to do Charms, always useful, and Potions. Yes, Miss Potter, Potions." She added, with the merest flicker of a smile. "Poisons and antidotes are essential study for Aurors. And I must tell you that Professor Snape absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than 'Outstanding' in their OWLs, so -" 

Umbridge gave her most pronounced cough yet.

"May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?" Professor McGonagall asked curtly, without looking at Umbridge.

"Oh, no, thank you very much." Umbridge said, with that simpering laugh I hated so much. "I just wondered whether I could make the teensiest interruption, Minerva?" 

"I daresay you'll find you can." Professor McGonagall said through tightly gritted teeth.

"I was just wondering whether Miss Potter has quite the temperament for an Auror?" Umbridge said sweetly.

"Were you?" Professor McGonagall said haughtily. "Well, Miss Potter," She continued, as though there had been no interruption, "if you are serious in this ambition, I would advise you to concentrate hard on bringing your Potions grade up. I see Professor Flitwick has graded you between 'Exceeds Expectations' and 'Outstanding' for the last two years, so your Charmwork seems satisfactory. As for Defence Against the Dark Arts, your marks have been very high, Professor Lupin in particular thought you - are you quite sure you wouldn't like a cough drop, Dolores?" 

"Oh, no need, thank you, Minerva." Umbridge simpered, who had just coughed her loudest yet. "I was just concerned that you might not have Daisy's most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I'm quite sure I slipped in a note." 

"What, this thing?" Professor McGonagall said in a tone of revulsion, as she pulled a sheet of pink parchment from between the leaves of my folder. She glanced down it, her eyebrows slightly raised, then placed it back into the folder without comment.

"Yes, as I was saying, Miss Potter, Professor Lupin thought you showed a pronounced aptitude for the subject, and obviously for an Auror -" 

"Did you not understand my note, Minerva?" Umbridge asked in honeyed tones, quite forgetting to cough.

"Of course I understood it." Professor McGonagall said, her teeth clenched so tightly the words came out a little muffled.

"Well, then, I am confused... I'm afraid I don't quite understand how you can give Miss Potter false hope that -" 

"False hope?" Professor McGonagall repeated, still refusing to look round at Umbridge. "She has achieved high marks in all her Defence Against the Dark Arts tests -" 

"I'm terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Minerva, but as you will see from my note, Daisy has been achieving very poor results in her classes with me -" 

"I should have made my meaning plainer." Professor McGonagall said, turning at last to look Umbridge directly in the eyes. "She has achieved high marks in all Defence Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher." 

Umbridge's smile vanished as suddenly as a light bulb blowing. She sat back in her chair, turned a sheet on her clipboard and began scribbling very fast indeed, her bulging eyes rolling from side to side. Professor McGonagall turned back to me, her thin nostrils flared, her eyes burning.

"Any questions, Miss Potter?" 

"Well, you said a Quidditch Captaincy would help." I said. "What if I don't get Quidditch Captain, would I still be okay?" 

"Yes, as long as you have trained hard at Quidditch and have been on a House team." Professor McGonagall said. "What really matters with professional playing are the trials they'll put you through to determine whether you have the talent to join their teams." 

"And you said about character and aptitude tests for Aurors. What sort of these tests do the Ministry do on you, if you get enough NEWTs?" I said. 

"Well, you'll need to demonstrate the ability to react well to pressure and so forth." Professor McGonagall said. "Perseverance and dedication, because Auror training takes a further three years, not to mention very high skills in practical Defence. It will mean a lot more study even after you've left school, so unless you're prepared to -" 

"I think you'll also find," said Umbridge, her voice very cold now, "that the Ministry looks into the records of those applying to be Aurors. Their criminal records." 

"- Unless you're prepared to take even more exams after Hogwarts, you should really focus on another one of your -" 

"Which means that this girl has as much chance of becoming an Auror as Dumbledore has of ever returning to this school." 

"A very good chance, then." Professor McGonagall said. 

"Miss Potter has a criminal record." Umbridge said loudly.

"Miss Potter has been cleared of all charges." Professor McGonagall said, even more loudly.

Umbridge stood up. She was so short that this did not make a great deal of difference, but her fussy, simpering demeanour had given place to a hard fury that made her broad, flabby face look oddly sinister.

"Potter has no chance whatsoever of becoming an Auror!" 

Professor McGonagall got to her feet, too, and in her case this was a much more impressive move: she towered over Umbridge.

"Miss Potter." She said in ringing tones. "I will assist you to become an Auror if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results!" 

"The Minister for Magic will never employ Daisy Potter!" Umbridge said, her voice rising furiously.

"There may well be a new Minister for Magic by the time Miss Potter is ready to join!" Professor McGonagall shouted. 

"Aha!" Umbridge shrieked, pointing a stubby finger at McGonagall. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That's what you want, isn't it, Minerva McGonagall? You want Cornelius Fudge replaced by Albus Dumbledore! You think you'll be where I am, don't you: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!" 

"You are raving." Professor McGonagall said, superbly disdainful. "Miss Potter, that concludes our careers consultation." 

I grinned at her, swung my bag over my shoulder, and hurried out of the room, not daring to look at Umbridge. I could hear her and Professor McGonagall continuing to shout at each other all the way back along the corridor.

Umbridge was still breathing as though she had just run a race when she strode, late, into our Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson that afternoon.

The picture of her on her desk surrounded by candles and white lilies did nothing to improve her mood. 

"Mr's Weasley, get out of my class now." Umbridge said, and Fred and George got up from beside me, snickering, and scurried out of the classroom. Terry and Kylie took their seats back. 

"Today we will be reading Chapter thirty-nine, class." Umbridge said. 

"Is that so?" I said. 

"Yes, Miss Potter, it is so." Umbridge attempted to smile at me. 

"Is that so?" 

"Read the chapter, Miss Potter." 

"Huh?" I said, tilting my head at her. 

Umbridge took a deep breath. "What you... CHILDREN... need to understand, is that your superiors..." 

I tuned her out as she went off on a spiel about respecting our elders and 'superiors.' I turned to Terry and got out the stapler from my bag, stapling his textbook pages together as he sniggered. After handing him the stapler to finish the job, I got out nail clippers and started clipping and filing my nails as Umbridge continued explaining how she deserves respect from us. I flicked the nail clippings at the boys in front of me, and Harry and Ron sighed as they brushed them off their robes. 

Once my nails were finished, I took out my phone and turned on the flash, taking a picture of her. Umbridge froze in the middle of her lecture, bulging eyes sweeping the room for the source of the sudden bright light. However, she was unsuccessful, and she continued lecturing. 

I took out my Omniculars and stared at her through them. She definitely noticed me, though chose to ignore me. 

I turned to Terry, getting out two pencils and an empty piece of parchment, drawing up the Charlie Charlie challenge, and set up the pencils. 

"Charlie Charlie, are you there?" I whispered, and the pencil moved to 'no.' 

"Oh my Godric." Ron said, his face pale as he stared at the pencil that had moved. 

"Hem, hem." I said primly, and Terry and Ron laughed. 

Umbridge finally finished her long explanation of respect. I put my hand up. 

"Yes, Miss Potter?" 

"Er, can you explain that again?" I said. "I wasn't listening." 

"No, Miss Potter." Umbridge said. "I was talking about respect, and here we are, a perfect example of disrespect." 

"Do you think you own the place, Dolores?" I said dismissively, leaning back on my chair. The class gasped collectively, a frantic whisper sweeping the room like a breeze through leaves. 

"Detention, Miss Potter." 

"So you think you deserve worship?" I smirked. "Oh, Professor UmBanter, Queen of the Gays and the Toads, we pray to you for guidance..." 

Terry, Kylie, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Suzanne, Shannon, Dean, Seamus, Ernie, Anthony, Michael, Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Neville, Pansy, and I all slid off our chairs and put our hands together, bowing our heads. 

I was delighted that so many of my classmates were now following along with the list. It felt like we were all united. 

"Get up. All of you." Umbridge said, her voice close to a hiss now. 

"Professor, do you want a cheeky dorite?" I said. "Maybe it'd calm you down a bit." 

"On your feet, NOW." Umbridge said. We all slid back onto our chairs, laughing heartily as Umbridge sat down furiously. I grinned as I remembered the chalk Terry and I had smeared all over her seat before class. "So, who has done the homework, class?" 

I put up my hand. Umbridge eyed me warily. 

"Please, Professor, I really need an extension." I begged. "Please, I'll do anything." 

Umbridge smiled. "No, no, no, Miss Potter. You are the same as any other student and you will be treated as such." 

I grinned at her. "Well, I'll just have to hand in my homework like this, then." And I held up the page I had printed off, with every sentence a different font, colour, and size. Umbridge's smile wavered. 

"Miss Potter, I will not be disrespected like this!" Umbridge said coldly. "Another detention for you!" 

I pinched myself and started crying hysterically. Umbridge suddenly looked alarmed, and got up, prowling the aisles to collect the homeworks. I took a break from fake howling to smirk at the big white patch on her ass from the chalk. 

When she walked past my desk, I rolled my pencil across it, letting it fall on her foot. I also quickly hexed her, and her tongue flopped out of her mouth like a toad's. Panic ensued for about ten minutes in the fifth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts class, as Umbridge shrieked and tried to rectify the problem, Floppy and his mates getting involved in trying to reverse the hex. Eventually, after Madam Pomfrey had been called, the class resumed. 

When Umbridge asked me to read aloud from the textbook, I read really, REALLY slowly. After she moved onto someone else after it took me fifteen minutes to read a page, I started whispering rumours about her to my classmates. 

"Did you know that all that pink she wears is dye from the blood of all the cats she's slaughtered?" I hissed to Dean. 

"Did you know that UmBanter has ten children, all from five previous marriages?" I whispered to Hannah Abbott. 

"Did you know that she is currently being treated for anger issues and alcohol addiction at St Mungo's, six sessions a week?" I said quietly to Parvati. 

And soon, the whole class was whispering amongst themselves, all shooting shocked glances at Umbridge. 

"Miss Potter, why don't you ever sit still?" Umbridge hissed at me as I kicked my chair back on two legs, stretching. 

"Thought you'd never ask!" I smirked. 

Umbridge blinked at me. 

"Miss Potter, what does Slinkhard say about verbal defensive tactics in tense situations?" She asked. 

"I can't answer because of religious reasons." I said apologetically, shrugging. 

Umbridge stared at me furiously, then turned away to ask Susan a question. I started chatting to Dean across the room, and Umbridge turned back to me, saying, "Keep quiet." 

So I got up and silently tip-toed towards Dean, leaning down to whisper to him instead. Umbridge immediately ordered me back to my seat as soon as she spotted me, and I grinned as she announced that we were now to silently read. 

I got out my game of Connect 4 and started playing with Terry, and texted Dobby that I wanted him to bring it up now. 

And soon enough, Dobby brought the first course, garlic bread. 

"Here you go, Miss Daisy Potter!" He squeaked, before leaving the room. I quickly scoffed down the bread, and Dobby quickly brought the main course, a whole pork shoulder with vegetables. I was halfway through it when Umbridge noticed the Connect 4 and the delicious food, and went absolutely mental. 

"This is the utmost disrespect of your elders, how dare you -" 

Dobby brought the dessert, and I stuffed my face with the meringue, all the while maintaining eye contact with Umbridge. 

The bell rang, and I picked up my chair, and left. 

The next two classes finished off the list. I brought a cardboard-print-cut-out of myself and set it up in front of my desk - and Umbridge promptly Vanished it. I had also brought a Muggle washing machine, with the help of a Levitation Charm, and started washing everyone's clothes behind my desk. Umbridge was hopeless as to what this was, and tried to teach over the loud noise of the washing machine washing the Gryffindors, Terry, and Draco's cloaks. Fred and George were kicked out yet again, and Umbridge was nearly tearing her hair out by the end of this class, the revelation that everyone in the class was wearing a fluffy pink cardigan under our cloaks nearly making her snap. 

We had set loose a bunch of cats and seagulls into her classroom, and she spent most of the class trying to Vanish them. 

"Has everyone got their homework?" She said, frazzled, as several cats meowed at her ankles, and several seagulls flapped around her head, calling out loudly. 

"I haven't got my homework, I left it at your place. Remember?" I winked at her, before taking my seat. 

The last class with her before the exams was just as banterful. Fred and George got kicked out again, the two really not managing to pass as fifth-years with their extreme tallness, and everyone turned up dressed as Dumbledore. The whole time, we played frisbee with her cat plates, as she cried and tried to stop us. 

"You can't stop us, Umbitch!" I cackled loudly as I tossed a feline at Terry, only for him to miss and it to smash against the wall. 

I wrote to Percy, pretending to be Umbridge, telling him that I'd fallen in love with one of my students, a particular pretty girl with a scar on her forehead, and how I was torn between my duty to the Ministry and my love for her. 

I also wrote to Fudge, tattle-taleing on her for using Blood Quills during detentions. 

I got my friends to Polyjuice into me and turn up to detention, each claiming to be me. I watched from around the corner, sniggering, as a crowd of Daisy Potters were ejected from Umbridge's office. 

Then, I got everyone to Polyjuice into Dumbledore. We all milled around in the Entrance Hall after dinner, waiting for her to exit. 

Umbridge came tottering out of the Great Hall, then spotted us. 

"Dumbledore!" She screeched, reaching for her wand. "I knew you'd - why -" 

Confusion dawned on her face as her eyes moved over the crowd of Dumbledores. 

"You're a smelly toad, Umbitch." I said, struggling to keep in my snort as I heard my sentence said aloud in Dumbledore's voice. 

Then we all ran for it, all splitting up down several corridors, hiding from her. It was an iconic moment in Hogwarts history; Umbridge spent the entire evening and night hunting down each Dumbledore, gathering us in her office and locking the door until every last one of us was caught; only for us all to melt back into ourselves once the potion wore off. 

Umbridge absolutely lost her shit, and gave us all a month's worth of detentions. 

The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, was to take place on the first weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor were not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course nobody said it to him) to Ron's abysmal goal-keeping record. He, however, seemed to have found a new optimism.

"I mean, I can't get any worse, can I?" He told me, Harry, Kylie, and Hermione grimly over breakfast on the morning of the match. "Nothing to lose now, is there?" 

But I was looking forward to it. Eating breakfast, changing, and then marching out to the pitch all went by in a blur, and soon we were in the air. 

"And they're off!" Lee said. "And Spieler takes the Quaffle immediately, Spieler of Slytherin with the Quaffle, he dodges Weasley, he dodges Bell, he dodges Johnson as well... he's going straight for goal! He's going to shoot - and - and -" Lee swore very loudly. "And he's scored." 

Predictably, horribly, the Slytherins on the other side of the stands began to sing:

"Weasley cannot save a thing, 

He cannot block a single ring... " 

I wheeled about, my eyes moving over the pitch. Where was this fucking Snitch, so I can hurry up and end this game before Ron gets humiliated even more...? 

I watched as Rudd flew towards Ron's goalposts, the Quaffle in his arm, and winced. He looked like he was aiming for the left goalhoop, but Ron flew right... 

Oh, wow. Turns out that was the right move. 

"Weasley saves the goal! Rudd was feinting, and Weasley caught it! Take THAT - sorry, Professor." 

I turned back to the pitch, grinning, as Ron did a little air-punch in triumph. 

A loud rustling right beside me made me jump. I turned to see Kylie, with her bat held high. A Bludger was rocketing away from us at high speed, right towards Floppy. 

"Did he -?" I said. 

"Yeah." Kylie panted. "Right towards you. You're lucky I was here, princess." 

I beamed, my heart fluttering. 

~~~ 

"Weasley is our King, 

Weasley is our King, 

He didn't let the Quaffle in, 

Weasley is our King..." 

The common room was chanting as Ron and I held the Quidditch Cup up between us, grinning widely. 

"Weasley can save anything, 

He never leaves a single ring, 

That's why Gryffindors all sing: 

Weasley is our King." 

"WHOOOOOOOP!" Ron and I yelled as Fred and George pressed six Butterbeers each into our arms. 

As next week progressed, the castle grounds gleamed in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. 

Meanwhile, a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility, and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth- and seventh-years. Harry and Ron were much tempted by the bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir offered to them by Ravenclaw sixth-year Eddie Carmichael, who swore it was solely responsible for the nine 'Outstanding' OWLs he had gained the previous summer and was offering a whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. Ron assured Harry he would reimburse him for his half the moment he left Hogwarts and got a job, but before they could close the deal, Hermione had confiscated the bottle from Carmichael and poured the contents down a toilet.

"Hermione, we wanted to buy that!" Ron shouted as I rolled my eyes, Kylie smirking. 

"Don't be stupid." Hermione snarled. "You might as well take Harold Dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it." 

"Dingle's got powdered dragon claw?" Ron said eagerly.

"Not any more." Hermione said. "I confiscated that, too. None of these things actually work, you know." 

"Dragon claw DOES work!" Ron said. "It's supposed to be incredible, really gives your brain a boost, you come over all cunning for a few hours - Hermione, let me have a pinch, go on, it can't hurt -" 

"This stuff can." Hermione said grimly. "I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried Doxy droppings." 

This information took the edge off Harry and Ron's desire for brain stimulants.

We received our examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during our next Transfiguration lesson.

"As you can see," Professor McGonagall told the class as we copied down the dates and times of our exams from the blackboard, "your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory papers in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night. 

"Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs, and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbour at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor. Miss Potter, I am looking at you. Our new - Headmistress -" Professor McGonagall pronounced the word with the same look on her face that Aunt Petunia had whenever she was contemplating a particularly stubborn bit of dirt, "- has asked the Heads of House to tell their students that cheating will be punished most severely - because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the Headmistress's new regime at the school -" 

Professor McGonagall gave a tiny sigh; I saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare.

"- However, that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about." 

"Please, Professor," said Hermione, her hand in the air, "when will we find out our results?" 

"An owl will be sent to you some time in July." Professcr McGonagall said. 

"Excellent." Dean said in an audible whisper. "So we don't have to worry about it till the holidays." 

The night before our first exam, Kylie and I were making out on an armchair next to everyone; Harry was reading Hermione's notes over her shoulder; Ron was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practising basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table.

And the next morning, after breakfast, we re-entered the Great Hall, which had been rearranged exactly as I had seen it in the bowl when my father, Sirius, and Snape had been taking their OWLs; the four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing us. When we were all seated and quiet, she said, "You may begin," and turned over an enormous hour-glass on the desk beside her, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles, and rolls of parchment.

I turned over my paper, my heart thumping hard - three rows to my right and four seats ahead Terry was already scribbling - and lowered my eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly.

I had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll... smiling slightly, I bent over the paper and began to write.

"Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?" Terry asked anxiously in the Entrance Hall two hours later, still clutching the exam paper. "I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs? I did, I thought they might like the answer more if I did, make it seem like I was more charm-savvy - and on question twenty-three -" 

"Terry, you're a Rottenclaw nerd." I told him firmly. 

The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then we trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where we were to wait until called for our practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practised wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake.

Terry's name was called. He left the chamber with Lavender, Susan, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Millicent Bulstrode. Students who had already been tested did not return afterwards, so I had no idea how he'd done. 

Ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick called, "Parkinson, Pansy - Patil, Padma - Patil, Parvati - Potter, Daisy - Potter, Harry." 

"Good luck." Ron said quietly. Harry and I walked into the Great Hall, clutching our wands tightly.

"Professor Tofty is free, Miss Potter." Professor Flitwick squeaked, who was standing just inside the door. He pointed me towards what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Floppy.

"Miss Potter, is it?" Professor Tofty said, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at me as I approached. "The famous Potter?" 

Out of the corner of my eye, I distinctly saw Floppy throw a scathing look over at me; the wine-glass he had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. I could not suppress a grin; Professor Tofty smiled back at me encouragingly.

"That's it," He said in his quavery old voice, "no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me." 

On the whole, I thought it went rather well. My Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Floppy's had been, and I noticed that Harry had mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat he was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before he could rectify his mistake. Ron had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large mushroom and had no idea how it had happened.

There was no time to relax that night; we went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged ourselves in revision for Transfiguration the next day; I went to bed with my head buzzing with complex spell models and theories.

Poor Hannah Abbott lost her head completely at the next table during the practical and somehow managed to multiply her ferret into a flock of flamingos, causing the examination to be halted for ten minutes while the birds were captured and carried out of the Hall.

We had our Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geranium, I felt I had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Defence Against the Dark Arts. Here, for the first time, I felt sure I had passed. I had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall.

"Oh, bravo!" Professor Tofty cried, who was examining me again, when I demonstrated a perfect Boggart banishing spell. "Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Miss Potter... unless..." 

He leaned forwards a little.

"I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point...?" 

I raised my wand, looked directly at Umbridge, and imagined her being sacked.

"Expecto patronum!" 

My silver puppy erupted from the end of my wand and bounded the length of the Hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress and when it dissolved into silver mist Professor Tofty clapped his hands enthusiastically.

"Excellent!" He said. "Very well, Miss Potter, you may go!" 

As I passed Umbridge beside the door, our eyes met. There was a nasty smile playing around her wide, slack mouth, but I didn't care. Unless I was very much mistaken I had just achieved an 'Outstanding' OWL.

In Potions, I thought I might have got full marks on the question about Polyjuice Potion; I could describe its effects accurately, having taken it illegally many times. 

The afternoon practical was not as dreadful as I had expected it to be. With Snape absent from the proceedings, I found that I was much more relaxed than I usually was while making potions. Neville, who was sitting very near me, also looked happier than I had ever seen him during a Potions class. When Professor Marchbanks said, "Step away from your cauldrons, please, the examination is over," I corked my sample flask feeling that I might have achieved a good grade. 

"Only four exams left." I said wearily as we headed back to the Gryffindor common room.

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