Despite Hermione's vocal disapproval, Draco didn't regret the cricket practice for one moment. It had been great fun, and rather useful, although it had put him behind revising fort the charms exam, which would be happening the day after tomorrow. A hard day's work was in order therefore on the next day, in order to catch up with where he was supposed to be. It meant a slightly later night than Draco had first hoped for, but in the end, everything was covered and Draco had an inkling about what he might do for his party piece, if it went well enough.

The written paper went well enough, his answers agreed with Hermione's, which was always a good indication that it had gone well, and he came out with a feeling of confidence. He took the practical charms exam happily enough as well, he did everything that was asked, and managed a good answer to the theoretical question that popped up. He hadn't done as well as in transfiguration though – this time no party piece was required. This exam had not gone as well as the last and Draco was not feeling too happy about it. He couldn't mention it to anyone of course, it had gone well enough that complaining would simply seem like a subtle form of bragging, and that would never do. Thankfully, the issue of how the exam went never really came up in any detail- the usual post examination discussion was replaced by an exciting new piece of gossip. Whilst Draco had been sitting his practical exam, Professor McGonagall had returned and with her a degree of hope for the body of students and staff alike who felt unhappy about Umbridge's tenure as headmistress. The return of the formidable deputy head would soon see that right, or if not right, then better.

Draco had first found out about McGonagall's return when Harry had told him about it as their paths crossed when Draco left the great hall, but it was only later that he decided to seek her out. Dinner had just finished and since it was now a good three days until his next exam- the next OWL paper being sat happened to be care of magical creatures, which Draco didn't take- he wanted to ask about that question that had arisen during his transfiguration exam, namely what on earth Hauptmann's minimisation manoeuvre was. Leaving the common room whilst nearly everyone else was distracted by work, he prowled through the castle, using his right as a prefect to roam the castle on patrol to his advantage.

Reaching McGonagall's office, he knocked loudly on the door three times.

'Come in.' a weak voice replied from the inside. Draco opened the door, which creaked.

'Ahh, young Mr Malfoy. I hear that you've done rather well in your transfiguration practical.'

'Really, Professor?'

'Oh yes, Old Marchy's quite a good friend of mine, has been since she examined me at NEWT level.'

'She examined you?'

'No need to take that tone, Mr Malfoy, that's not that incredible. That she examined Professor Dumbledore however...' McGonagall's voice dwindled, as she left that comment unsaid.

'She examined Professor Dumbledore? Really?'

'Oh yes, I met her in the Hog's Head when I returned to the village yesterday. She was quite impressed with you. Said you were a real credit to your teachers.'

'Thank you, Professor.'

'Not at all. I just want to know one thing.'

'Professor?'

'What gave you the idea to materialise something? We haven't done that in class, nor would we had I not been. Hm hm. Indisposed.'

'Well, I saw Professor Dumbledore do it at the Christmas Feast a couple of years ago, Professor.'

'Oh yes, that trick of his. Well, I don't seem to remember teaching you it, or come to mention it, seeing Professor Dumbledore produce a desk at the same time. I'm surprised nothing went wrong.'

'Well, it did Professor. I meant to make a red leather chair and it turned out to be green. I didn't mention to Madame Marchbanks, since everything else had worked fine.'

'So you're saying the biggest problem you have is that the chair was the wrong colour?'

'Not quite, Professor. For the final bit of the exam I was supposed to turn a large kettle into a small rubber mouse.'

'I see.'

'Well, after I'd done it Madame Marchbanks asked be to explain what I'd done with the extra bits.'

'And?'

'Well, I said I'd vanished them simultaneously with the transfiguration.'

'As good an answer as any , I suppose.'

'Well, Madame Marchbanks was surprise I hadn't used Hauptmann's minimisation manoeuvre or something of that ilk. What is it?'

'Hauptmann's? My word, I haven't come across that in years. It's an old, old trick. Invented in the fourteenth century by a German wizard. It's a little flick at the end of the transfiguration designed to tidy up any leftover bits, essentially. We stopped teaching that at Hogwarts before I was even born. I wonder why she mentioned it.' There was a moment of silence as McGonagall pondered, the fingers of her right hand bouncing on her lips, pensively.

'Would you mind doing the transformation again? There's a kettle in the kitchen.'

Draco fetched the kettle and repeated his feat of a few days ago.

'So that's why she asked.'

'Why?'

'Because you just did it yourself. I suppose it must be something to do with the vanishing part of the spell.'

'Ahh. I see.' Another brief pause. 'Professor, how was I supposed to have done it?'

'You weren't. Dealing with large differences in size is something we don't cover until NEWT level, I suspect Marchbanks was just trying to test you by asking you to transfigure the kettle. Probably wanted to see how well you'd do. But to answer the question you didn't ask, I'd advise you to look up something called morphic resonance field theory. It's a bit beyond NEWT level, but if you ahve any questions, I'd be happy to go over it with you sometime.'

'Thank you, Professor.'

'You're welcome, Draco. Is there anything else you want?'

'No, I think that's it.'

'Then you should probably be running along to the common room. Even if you are a prefect, you don't want to be caught out of bed too late, do you?'

'No, Professor. Good night.'

'Goodnight.'

That night Draco jotted down the name of the theory and promised himself that he'd look it up after the end of exams. Perhaps he could read it in the dressing room after he was out when Gryffindor were playing cricket. It would give him something to do, at any rate. Or so he reckoned.

The exams had gone smoothly for the most part and as their end approached Draco felt relaxed. HE felt he'd done well enough. Not necessarily perfectly, but well enough. Even Potions and Defence had gone well and all that was now left was the least popular of all subjects; History of Magic. Draco had never lost his enthusiasm for the subject and was the only person looking forward to the exam. Even Hermione hadn't been as able to stay awake listening to and taking notes on all of Binn's stories. He found them fascinating, and whilst other boys read books on quidditch techniques and stories where handsome princes killed dragons, kidnapped princesses and stole kingdoms for their own, he read histories. Muggle histories, Wizard histories, goblin histories – over the years Draco had devoured them all greedily. Now, at long last, he was to reap the rewards. The exam went smoothly. Halfway through there was some sort of disturbance further back, but Draco didn't turn around. He just carried on writing the paper. Half an hour before the end of the paper he had finished. He checked the paper over twice and finished for good, putting down his pen and stretching slightly. Now it was time to wait.

Before long the time was up and the papers were collected in. When instructed he left the hall and searched for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry wasn't there, but the others were.

'How'd it go?'

'Fine. For us.'

'What do you mean for us?'

'Harry didn't survive?'

'What? The exam killed him?'

'Don't be silly, he was taken ill in the middle. He got carried away, so it must have been serious.'

'Yeah, but Harry can survive anything.'

'Mhh. Come on, let's go and find him, he's probably in the hospital wing.'

'Yeah, let's go.'

Harry was in the hospital wing, as white as the sheets in which he was lying in between. He did however, perk up mightily at seeing them.

'Guys.' He nodded at them, 'How did it go?'

'Not too bad. How are you?'

'Yeah. Fine. What happened?' Hermione asked.

'I had another vision.'

'The door?'

'The door. I went through it this time. He was in there, with Sirius. He was torturing Sirius. WE've got to help him.'

'How are we supposed to do that?'

'Gather the army.' Ron suggested.

'Ask for help from someone.' Hermione put forward.

'Well, we ought to see what's going on, we should try and contact the' she cut of suddenly and looked about. No-one was near, only the distant rumblings of Madame Pomfrey suggested that anyone was anywhere nearby.

'Go on.' Harry prompted.

'The Order. We can firecall their headquarters. Someone's bound to be there.'

'Yeah, but remember Umbridge said that she was going to monitor all means of communication in and out of the castle, or had that slipped your mind?'

'Not entirely. All we need is a distraction. Fred and George left a bit of stuff behind when they left. We get some of the DA together. Half of us cause a distraction whilst the rest of us go to Umbridge's office and use her fireplace to make the call. I bet that's not monitored.'

'Good thinking, Hermione. I'll leave it to you to gather the rest of us, Pomfrey will probably let me go soon, she thinks I've had a fit of nerves from the exams. Meet you in the room of requirement?'

'See you there. Don't be long.'