Chapter 47: OWLs
The entire school got a day off from classes the day of the food fight while Umbridge spluttered, red-faced and outraged, at the scene that met her.
That's to say, the scene that met her once the professors had congregated at the doors and come into the hall. It had taken one thundering "WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE!?" From Snape to freeze the entire hall.
Umbridge looked pissed as she popped up out of nowhere and stomped around, demanding to know who'd started the fight (nobody confessed) but the rest of the staff looked like they were trying not to laugh at some of the answers she got.
"Who started this?" Umbridge nearly shrieked, popping out from under the Slytherin table. Her pink cardigan was stained several different colors and had a fork sticking to the front, while her hair was a disaster mixed with scrambled eggs and her face was smeared with what appeared to be gravy.
She was nearly trembling with rage as she whirled on the nearest student, a 4th year Gryffindor. "Dunno," he shrugged, "food flew, someone yelled, and then everyone was running for their life."
She glowered around the room. She marched up to another student—a first year Hufflepuff—and demanded, "where did the first blow come from?"
The young blond girl shrugged without saying anything, looking at the ground. "Answer me!"
Professor Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her around to face her, and began shaking her very hard. A split second later Sprout and Flitwick rushed at her, their wands raised.
"Release her this instant!" Sprout demanded furiously.
Harry glanced back at his sister, and saw her eyes flash, for the most brief of moments. He'd have thought it was a trick of the light had Umbridge not leapt back from her, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned.
"You cursed me!" Umbridge snapped as she whirled to face them. With a mad gleam in her eye she rambled on, "I see what this is!"
Everyone stared at her, baffled, but she ploughed on anyway. "None of the other members of the staff were here this morning, but the entire student body was. This was a coordinated attempt to undermine my authority as Headmistress!"
Everyone stared at her, dumbfounded, while Harry pushed down a squirm of nerves as she hit the nail on the head (not that anyone but he or Kate knew that).
Kate snorted. Loudly. That set off everyone else, and soon nearly everyone was laughing at Umbridge's thunderous expression and the two ministry appointed professors, who were now flanking her. Fallow was glaring at everyone, but Redbird looked more confused than anything else.
Even Harry had to chuckle at how ridiculous this entire situation was. Professor Flitwick dismissed them all to go get cleaned up a few minutes later, ushered out by the professors. Umbridge, Fallow, Redbird, and Filch were left to clean up the hall.
There stunt didn't go unpunished, Flitwick and Sprout were both fired and replaced in short order. This only furthered the motivation of the students to revolt.
The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor was not daring to hope for victory, due mainly to Fred, George, and Harry's absence. Ron, however, seemed to have found some optimism.
"I mean, it can't get any worse than practice, can it?" he told Harry and Hermione grimly over breakfast on the morning of the match. "They've had some experience."
"You know," said Hermione, as she and Harry walked down to the pitch a little later in the midst of a very excitable crowd, "I think Ron might do better without Fred and George around. They never exactly gave him a lot of confidence..."
The match passed nearly without note, except, of course, for the fact that Gryffindor won.
"We won," said Ron slowly, savoring the words. "Did you see the look on Chang's face when Ginny got the Snitch right out from under her nose?"
"She cried," said Harry with a snort.
"Well, yeah — more out of temper than anything, though..." Ron frowned slightly. "But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?"
"Yeah," said Harry.
The castle grounds were gleaming 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: June had arrived, but to the fifth years this meant only one thing: Their O.W.L.s were upon them at last.
Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to reviewing those topics their teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the O.W.L.s from Harry's mind.
Hermione, on the other hand, was spending a lot of time muttering to herself. She was not the only person acting oddly as the O.W.L.s drew steadily nearer. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their study habits.
"How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?" he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.
"I dunno," said Ron. "A few..."
"More or less than eight?"
"Less, I s'pose," said Ron, looking slightly alarmed.
"I'm doing eight," said Ernie, puffing out his chest. "Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eight's my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday—only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday—"
Harry was, for the first time, deeply thankful that Professor Yupik (the ministry appointed lady who, following in a similar vein, was biased, incompetent, and blindly following Umbridge) ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital.
Of course, when Kate heard such comments, she always had a wisecrack about her own lack of studying as a student that made Harry snicker at the blushes said students always ended up sporting.
"Do you think that's true?" Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron, looking slightly affronted.
"Doesn't apply to me either way," said Ron gloomily.
"Griselda Marchbanks is a friend of my gran's," Neville admitted once.
"What's she like, Neville?" asked Hermione at once. "Is she strict?"
"Bit like Gran, really," said Neville in a subdued voice.
"Knowing her won't hurt your chances though, will it?" Ron told him encouragingly.
"Oh, I don't think it will make any difference," said Neville, still more miserably. "Gran's always telling Professor Marchbanks I'm not as good as...my dad..."
Neville looked fixedly at the floor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at one another, but didn't know what to say. It was the first time that Neville had acknowledged his parents at all.
Meanwhile a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility, and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth and seventh years. Ron was 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" O.W.L.s he had gained the previous summer and was offering the whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. Ron assured Harry he would reimburse him 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, I wanted to buy that!" shouted Ron.
"Don't be stupid," she snarled. "You might as well take Harold Dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it."
"Dingle's got powdered dragon claw?" said Ron eagerly.
"Not anymore," said Hermione. "I confiscated that too. None of these things actually works you know—"
"Dragon claw does work!" said Ron. "It'sbsupposed 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," said Hermione grimly. "I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried doxy droppings."
This information took the edge off Ron's desire for brain stimulants. They received their examination schedules and details of the procedure for O.W.L.s during their next DADA lesson.
"As you can see," Kate told the class while they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, "your O.W.L.s are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory exams 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. Apparently, every year, someone thinks that they can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor. Our new — headmistress" — Professor Ross 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..."
Kate sneered slightly. She had become a sort of stand-in Head of House for Gryffindor since so many of the Heads of Houses—all but Snape—had been fired. Professors Burbage (Muggle Studies) had taken over for Hufflepuff while Sinstra had gotten Ravenclaw. According to Kate, Binns, Babbling (Ancient Runes) and Snape were basically running the administrative side.
"However, that isn't a reason not to do your 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," said Kate.
"Excellent," said Dean Thomas in an audible whisper, "so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays..."
Kate smirked at him, "or you have to worry about it until July…"
Harry imagined sitting in his bedroom in Privet Drive in six weeks' time, waiting for his O.W.L. results. Then he realized...he could move in with Kate if Voldemort wasn't an issue.
Their first exam, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. Harry agreed to test Hermione after lunch on Sunday but regretted it almost at once. She was very agitated and kept snatching the book back from him to check that she had gotten the answer completely right, finally hitting him hard on the nose with the sharp edge of Achievements in Charming.
"Why don't you just do it yourself?" He asked her in annoyance.
Meanwhile Ron was reading two years 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 practicing basic locomotion charms, were making their pencil cases race each other around the edge of the table.
Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Hermione on the other hand kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure. Ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate.
"Oh, my goodness," she said faintly, staring into the entrance hall. "Is that them? Is that the examiners?"
Harry and Ron whipped around on their bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall they could see Umbridge standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Umbridge, Harry was pleased to see, looked rather nervous.
"Shall we go and have a closer look?" said Ron.
Harry and Hermione nodded and they hastened toward the double doors into the entrance hall, slowing down as they stepped over the threshold to walk sedately past the examiners. Harry thought Professor Marchbanks must be the tiny, stooped witch with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; Umbridge was speaking to her very deferentially. Professor Marchbanks seemed to be a little deaf; she was answering Umbridge very loudly considering that they were only a foot apart.
"Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!" she said impatiently.
"Now, I haven't heard from Dumbledore lately!" she added, peering around the hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. Didn't they all? Harry thought. "No idea where he is, I suppose?"
"None at all," said Umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were now dawdling around the foot of the stairs as Ron pretended to do up his shoelace. "But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough..."
"I doubt it," shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, "not if Dumbledore doesn't want to be found! I should know... Examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did N.E.W.T.s... Did things with a wand I'd never seen before..."
"Yes... well..." said Professor Umbridge as Harry, Ron, and Hermione dragged their feet up the marble staircase as slowly as they dared, "let me show you to the staffroom... I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey..."
It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute studying but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Harry went to bed early but then lay awake for what felt like hours. He remembered his career consultation and McGonagall's furious declaration that she would help him become an DADA master if it was the last thing she did... He knew he'd do fine, but Kate and Jamie had both scored really high on their OWLs...He knew that he was not the only one lying awake, but none of the others in the dormitory spoke and finally, one by one, they fell asleep.
None of the fifth years talked very much at breakfast the next day either. Parvati was practicing incantations under her breath while the salt cellar in front of her twitched, Hermione was rereading Achievement in Charming so fast that her eyes appeared blurred, and Neville kept dropping his knife and fork and knocking over the marmalade.
Once breakfast was over, the fifth and seventh years milled around in the entrance hall while the other students went off to lessons. Then, at half-past nine, they were called forward class by class to reenter the Great Hall, which was now arranged exactly as Kate had told them it would be. 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 Umbridge stood facing them. When they were all seated and quiet she said, "You may begin," and turned over an enormous hourglass on the desk beside her, on which were also spare quills, ink bottles, and rolls of parchment.
Harry turned over his paper, his heart thumping hard...Three rows to his right and four seats ahead, Hermione was already scribbling...He lowered his eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation, and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly…
Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll... Smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write.
Over the following days there would be no time to relax as they had Transfiguration the next day, Herbology after that and then DADA.
Harry was completely confident he had gotten an Outstanding. He 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!" cried Professor Tofty, who was examining Harry again, when Harry demonstrated a perfect boggart banishing spell.
"Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter… unless..." He leaned forward a little. "Professor Ross mentioned that most of the students could produce a Patronus? For a bonus point...?"
Harry raised his wand, looked directly at Umbridge, and imagined her being sacked.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and cantered 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 veined and knotted hands enthusiastically.
"Excellent!" he said. "Very well, Potter, you may go!"
As Harry passed Umbridge beside the door their eyes met. There was a nasty smile playing around her wide, slack mouth, but he did not care.
Kate gloated to them that night that according to Marchbanks, everyone student got an Outstanding on the practical portion of the DADA exam. She also gleefully informed them that someone put another niffler in Umbridge's office.
"I don't know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umbridge is shrieking her head off — by the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of her leg—"
"Good," said Harry and Ron together.
Kate laughed while Hermione tried to ignore them as she fretted over her next exam.
"Hermione, relax," she advised the girl, "you're doing just fine and cramming isn't going to help you. You already know everything you need to know. Just relax and take the test."
"Hermione, relax and take a test?" Ron snorted.
Kate nodded, "panicking isn't going to help you do better."
A/N::: REVIEW! Love it, hate it, so done with the author?
