"Aaaand writing implements down. This is the end of your Ancient Runes examination. You may now leave the examination room. Take nothing with you other than what you took in."
There was a pause as everyone sat, dumbfounded. Our last exam was finished, OWLs were over. At long last.
"As in leave. This is your last exam. Begone. Frolic. That kind of thing."
And still we sat. Mainly because professor Binns had just cracked a joke. I'm not saying he was boring, history of magic was actually a really interesting class, as long as you asked questions and generally showed interest, but professor Binns never joked. He thought it would detract from his dry and dull persona that he had so diligently crafted. He had a dry wit, but above all, professor Binns Did Not Joke.
"I give up." Muttered professor Binns and floated through one of the walls. Professor Richardson, the new ancient runes teacher, shrugged, flicked his wand, causing all the papers to gather themselves and deposit themselves in a neat pile in front of him, glanced at the still stunned masses, shrugged again, and then left.
"Alright, Rose. What say we get the hell out of here?"
I practically had to lift Rose out of her seat. She didn't seem to be handling the sleep deprivation well. She was practically asleep.
Slowly, everyone left the hall, some yawning, others contemplating suicide while they yawned. Outside the hall, waiting for us, was the rest of the quiddich team.
"Good to see you survived your OWLs." Said Richard jovially, clapping us on the shoulder.
"Why are you happy, Richard?" I asked. "Your happiness worries me. It makes me think you have something horrible planned."
"You are entirely correct to be worried. Now that your exams are over, the professors, in their infinite kindness, are giving you lot the rest of the week off so that your exams can be marked et cetera. I don't strictly need to turn up to class because NEWT exams are over. Resultingly, we're going to spend the next four days training up for the Quiddich final on Saturday. Won't that be fun."
"You sick bastard." Said Rose in a somewhat admiring tone.
"That's the spirit Rose. I'll see you on the pitch tomorrow morning nice and early."
As Richard walked off, Rose made a ride gesture at his back.
I raised an eyebrow at her.
"I hate Mondays." She muttered.
"No you don't."
"True. I hate how happy he was."
"I think you just need some sleep."
"You think?" asked Rose darkly. Which reminded me that she disliked sleep deprivation.
As we walked back to the common room, we started discussing the exam.
"The Ministry has really gotten morbid." Remarked Rose. "I mean how many people got dismembered in sharp detail in that last passage? Eight?"
"People were dismembered? That's not what I translated." There had, in fact, been eight dismemberments, but I decided to see just how wound up Rose was.
The answer was very. She stopped walking, her face drained of colour, and she practically fainted.
"You're joking, right?" asked Rose horrified.
"Yes. I didn't expect you to react like that."
"Are you joking? If I had failed my father would probably have a heart attack. And murder me. In that order."
"Why, might I ask?"
"To start with, there's the whole Slytherin thing. He's never really gotten over it. I think he takes the fact that I'm a Slytherin as a personal failure. The rest of the family have gotten over it, but dad and uncle Harry are less than thrilled. The fact that I (quote) inherited my mother's brains (unquote) is his only real consolation in my opinion."
Well that was a bleak outlook. I was trawling my brain for the right thing to say when we arrived at the common room.
"Sleep!" exclaimed Rose, heading straight for the fifth year girls bedroom.
I had to agree.
