First week of June, 1994.
Nearly everyone's dreaded week has arrived as exams are finally underway.
And for the third-years, this involves starting off with Transfiguration on the 3rd of June. For once, all four Houses practically ignore each other while sharing the same space outside class. But Harry's eyes remain fixated upon Ron, standing a fair distance away from McGonagall, as various names are called.
"Goddamn Mudblood," mutters Pansy, seated beside Harry on the ground as Hermione exits with a confident smile. But a light punch to Pansy's side quickly has her apologising for using the derogatory term. Minutes turn to an hour before Draco is called, and he eventually exits with a apprehensive expression.
"Hey, how's the P gang holding up?" asks Nott, which draws a quizzical expression from Harry. "You know, Parkinson, Perks, and Potter."
"I wouldn't joke if I were you, because you're up next," says Sally-Anne.
"Wha—?"
"Theodore Nott," says McGonagall, and Nott nearly bolts into class. Minutes later, he exits with a fairly satisfied, yet disappointed look.
Not one to waste time, McGonagall immediately continues the exam as student upon student gradually completes their first exam of today. And as usual, Sally-Anne, Pansy, and Harry huddle together for comfort before a stressful test. "Keep it calm, girls, we can do this," says Harry, wrapping his arms around their shoulders.
"Pansy Parkinson."
She leaps to her feet and almost sprints into the room. Then, once finished, Pansy exits with a slight smile as the exam continues. Next up are the Patil twins followed by Sally-Anne and then, finally...
"Harry Potter."
"You forgot the James," he mutters while walking towards the door.
"Pardon me?"
"Uh, nothing, ma'am!" Harry enters the classroom and is told to Transfigure a teapot to a tortoise. And, in doing so, he concentrates so hard that he mutters the incantation, performs the wand movements, then even shuts his eyes in fear. Please not a fail, please not a fail.. It better not be a fail.
"Potter, open your eyes to observe your work."
Harry opens his eyes and crosses his fingers upon observing his work. And if sneaking into the girls' dormitory, to study, hasn't done anything, then he'd surely feel like a dolt right now...
"You may now leave," says McGonagall, and Harry observes what appears to be a rather turtle-like tortoise with slight steam billowing out. Satisfied that it at least looks like a tortoise, he sighs and jogs out the Transfiguration classroom.
Lunchtime is spent eating practically nothing before it's time for Charms. And, once again, all four Houses of third-years ignore one another upon converging outside the third-floor classroom. What can hardly be ignored, however, is a sudden putrid stench permeating the corridor.
"Sorry, nerves," says Crabbe.
"Wha—argh! For God's sake, Crabbe. The hell do you eat?" asks Draco, hurriedly standing up and joining the group of students moving away from the odorous zone.
"Is there anything he doesn't eat?" asks Ron.
"What is that smell?" asks Harry, glancing around him. "Pansy, is that your arse that exploded?"
She grins wickedly. "No, it was Crabbe's. But since you thought of that..."
"What are you—hey!" Harry gasps as she sits on the palm of his hand beside him. "Get off my hand, come on."
"Talking about my arse now, eh? Say you're sorry..."
Harry smirks as she stands up. "Nice and firm, though." His comment is met with a few gasps from the girls seated opposite him in the corridor.
"Oh, you girls are just jealous, hmph!" Pansy flicks her hair then sits down beside Harry. "I want you as my Charms exam partner today, since Flitwick said it'd be like this."
But, just then, Flitwick steps out to declare the next few names. "...Ronald Weasley and Su Li, Sally-Anne Perks and Ernest Macmillan, Vincent Crabbe and Eloise Midgen..."
"Come on, pair us up," says Pansy, sitting rather apprehensively.
"... Daphne Greengrass and Lavender Brown, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode..."
"No offense, Harry, but I don't need you here anymore." Pansy shoos him away and beckons Millicent over.
"Fine, I'll just go sit next to... I'll just have to wait." Harry stands in the middle of the corridor as the list continues.
"...Padma Patil and Parvati Patil, Anthony Goldstein and Dean Thomas, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom..."
A gasp of fear is heard to the far right of the corridor while Harry walks towards Neville. Murmurs of insults can be heard, from most of the Slytherins, throughout the next hour until Flitwick steps out once more.
"Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Potter, if you would please enter."
"What, are we sorting by birth month now?" mutters Harry.
"I'm g-gonna fail, gonna f-fail," whispers Neville upon entering the class.
"Gentlemen," says Flitwick. " Your examination's basically just the Cheering Charm. Now then, who's willing to go first?"
Harry's just about to let Neville go first but immediately feels a pang of pity. "I'll go first, Professor."
"Excellent, let's see what you've got, Mister Potter."
Seconds later, after hoping that all his studies have paid off, Harry spots an uncharacteristically cheerful expression cross the face of Neville before him.
"Such a beautiful Cheering Charm!" says Flitwick. "Well done, excellent! Mister Longbottom, you're up next."
With Harry's spell still affecting him, Neville tries his best to perform the Cheering Charm.
"Not as impressive as Mister Potter's, but nonetheless an excellent attempt indeed. Do enjoy the rest of the day, and be sure to study hard for your upcoming examinations elsewhere."
The boys immediately exit in broad smiles, drawing exceptionally bemused looks from the remaining students outside. And since Flitwick hadn't sorted alphabetically, Harry walks past an observant Hermione towards the Grand Staircase.
They eventually reach the marble staircase where Neville finally decides speak. "Um, t-thanks, I really thought I was going to fail that one, Harry."
"Nah, you did good... with a bit of help. I reckon that'd be an A or perhaps an E, if you're lucky. Now, I reckon you should go and relax or study before my pals show up here," says Harry, taking his leave towards the dungeons.
Barring a few jokes regarding Harry having needed an O-level charm to cheer 'Loser Longbottom', the common room remains entrenched in studying. And it's not long until Harry finds himself seated at a table beside the fifth-year, Yasmin.
"Harry, I reckon you're braver than most of these boys I've just asked," she says. "So, would you mind helping me with my Charms and Defence homework?"
"I'd love to help a pretty student, oh mighty Prefect."
"Good; now let's go, little one." Yasmin stands up, pulls out Harry's high-backed chair, then leads him out into the empty corridor. "You might wanna take this opportunity to practice the Shield Charm too. Plus, maybe I'll overlook your next infringement if you don't flee in terror here." She draws her wand and takes aim at the awaiting Harry.
"Yasmin, what am I expecting first?"
"Stupefy!"
"Protego!"
The jet of red light smashes through Harry's shield before sending him flying backwards.
"Whoops, Rennervate!" Yasmin revives Harry from his nearly unconscious state upon the ground and sits him up. "Okay, so that one's fine."
"The hell was that spell?"
"Stupefy is a stunning spell, and Rennervate revives a stunned person. Problem is that you cannot cast it on yourself when you're knocked out, obviously. Want me to write them down for you? Wand movements and all? Told you this would be beneficial for you too," says Yasmin.
"Yeah, thanks. Went right through my Shield Charm, though."
"Haha, you need to practice it more, child. Alright, just a bit more... how about a bit of fun first? Wingardium Leviosa!"
Harry feels himself lifted by his clothing and floating up from the ground.
"I'm sure you remember from first-year Charms that this spell isn't working on the person but rather on their clothing." Yasmin levitates Harry throughout the corridor. "Now then, I hope you're ready for some fourth-year fun... Depulso!"
"Oh crap, I know this one." Harry is sent flying through the air but lands surprisingly comfortably at the far end of the corridor. And to his surprise, Yasmin blurts out an apology.
"Oh my God, sorry!" she races over towards a confused Harry.
"What? I'm okay."
"Not you, silly!" says Yasmin, before a voice speaks from beneath Harry.
"Get off me right this instant, Potter!"
Harry darts to his feet so fast that his head briefly spins. Looking down, he offers his hand but finds it smacked aside as Snape swiftly stands up.
"Next time you make the understandable decision of blasting Potter, Shafiq, I would appreciate that you observe your surroundings first."
Yasmin hurriedly nods as Snape enters their common room. "Such a shame that Professor Snape's always going at you, Harry."
"Just some old anger going on in there, I think."
They continue their practice, outside the common room, until Snape exits and observes the pair. Then, after Harry's dropped from yet another levitation, Snape calls Yasmin over and mutters a suggestion to the Prefect.
"I don't remember covering that spell in class, sir".
"Then consider this a valuable learning opportunity." Snape sneers while looking at a confused Harry. "And don't go spreading it around."
"Levicorpus!"
"Levi-what-now? Oh, come on!" Harry finds himself hoisted into the air by his ankle, dangling metres from where the common room door would be in its brick wall.
Yasmin gasps and requests the Counterspell, but Snape merely smirks and starts leading the Prefect out the corridor. "Let us review your most recent assignments and Career Advice, Miss Shafiq."
"I'm not an animal hanging in a butcher like this!" Harry flails around in the air and groans. "Uh, hello? Professor? Yasmin... anyone?"
Finally, after approximately twenty minutes, Snape and Yasmin return down the corridor. The former now casts a non-verbal Counter-Jinx which frees Harry from his aerial discomfort. "Potter, Shafiq, if I catch any one of you casting these spells around school..."
"Sorry about that," says Yasmin, once Snape has exited the corridor. "He really spoke at length about work."
Speaking of work, the following day brings Hagrid's exam. And all that's required is to keep a large tub of Flobberworms alive for an hour, which involves doing practically nothing at all. Nearly each time the Professor passes by Harry's section, the latter whispers an apology. But Hagrid merely bends over, pretending to check up on his work, then replies, "Ain't yer fault, Harry, I know yeh're a busy man. Did Hermione tell yeh abou' the date?"
Harry nods, having already been informed of the Hippogriff's execution on the 6th of June.
By the end of Hagrid's exam, the entire class seems to have kept their Flobberworms alive. But such easygoing joy is short-lived with the arrival of Potions in the afternoon. Here, Snape walks to the blackboard and jots down his requested potion for today's examination:
"Confusing Concoction."
Blinking more than a few times, Harry can hardly believe his luck as he brews the potion he's so thoroughly revised. And at some point, he even slices, as opposed to crushing, a listed ingredient which causes his mixture to turn a shade of purple. This elicits a snigger from Malone which is quickly stamped out by Snape's presence near the Gryffindor's desk. With time running out, and everyone else battling to thicken their concoction, Harry gives it his all as Snape moves to inspect his brew. Both parties observe the rather viscous mix which is then left to brew as stated by the textbook. Looking up, Harry sees a stoic Snape scribbling down notes on the former's mark sheet.
The day eventually ends with Astronomy at midnight, and Harry's class therefore gathers atop the tallest, and coldest, tower for their practical exam.
History of Magic takes up the following morning, and Harry racks his brains while trying to remember his revision—although he reckons it's barely enough to scrape a pass. As if the day couldn't get any worse, Herbology takes place on a blistering afternoon within the unbearable greenhouses. Finally, after suffering sunburn and throbbing heads, the Slytherins return to their common room to prepare for their final day of exams tomorrow.
