Chapter 37: OWLs

The next two weeks passed in a whirlwind of revising, practicing, and cramming. As exams drew nearer, Harry was becoming increasingly stressed about the OWLs. He felt immense pressure to perform well. For the first time in his life, there were people who would care if he did well, people who could be disappointed in him. Harry was determined to do the best he possibly could. His need to perform well did not come without consequences: Harry felt constantly jittery and exhausted. As exams approached, he found himself wishing he could fight the Hungarian Horntail instead of taking his Astronomy practical (Harry was notoriously terrible at Astronomy).

He was taking every exam except Muggle Studies (he refused to be reminded of his life at the Dursleys any more than absolutely necessary, thank you very much), and his workload was heavy. Very heavy. His free time had evaporated completely, replaced by hours spent poring over study guides and practice essays.

Even now, as he made his way down to Snape's office with George, Harry was preparing for the exams: attempting to memorize a Star Chart as he walked.

"You're going to run into a wall," George said, attempting to grab the chart from Harry's grip.

"I don't care," Harry replied, holding the chart to his chest.

"I need to learn this."

George stopped for a moment, causing Harry to nearly bump into him.

"You're stressing too much about this."

"I'm not."

"You are. You're going to do well on these exams, Harry. You don't need to kill yourself."

Harry continued walking, letting George trail behind him.

"I'm not killing myself. I just want to do well."

"Sirius and Remus won't hate you if you don't get straight O's, you know."

Harry started at that. He hadn't told anyone about his reason for pushing himself so hard.

"Was it that obvious?"

"Just to me," George said, knocking on Snape's door.

The dour man ushered them inside, quickly performing the relevant charms. Harry stared at the glowing numbers appearing before him, noting how different they looked from yesterday.

Snape was frowning, a crease between his eyebrows.

"What is it?" Harry asked, trying not to panic.

"Your white blood cell count is quite low, red blood count is falling too…"

Snape trailed off, gazing at the transcribed numbers on his parchment.

"We're beginning to reach a point of no return here, Potter. If you were to get sick right now, it could quickly become very dangerous."

"What are you saying?" George asked shakily.

"Nothing at the moment. We have no alternative to this Potion. All we can do is continue to monitor the situation and intervene if necessary."

George nodded slowly, brown eyes full of fear.

"Intervene how?"

Snape sighed, placing the parchment back on his desk.

"We'd have to take him off the Potion entirely."

Harry felt his heart stop. If that happened, he'd have to leave Hogwarts.

"Can I make it through exams?" Harry asked, not wanting to be caught by surprise.

The exams began tomorrow and would be non-stop for the next five days. Harry desperately wanted to make it through.

Snape turned to him, looking almost sympathetic.

"You theoretically can, but I cannot promise that you will. The concentration is going up and your body is showing signs of beginning to fail. If your symptoms worsen or if you become ill, you will have to be taken off the Potion. At that point, we'll have no other option."

"Merlin," George breathed.

"This is…"

"Fine," Harry said, cutting him off.

"This is fine. It will be fine."

Harry felt a twinge in his left arm as he spoke: a reminder to not tell lies.

…

The first day of OWLs and NEWTs brought with it a nearly hysterical student body. The 5th and 7th years were practically vibrating with nervous energy. Hermione was legitimately terrifying, prattling on about every fact she'd ever learned. Harry tried to tune her out, focusing his attention on his condensed notes for the exams that day: Ancient Runes and History of Magic. Both exams were three hours long and had only a theoretical section.

Harry scowled at the next dose of Potion as he washed it down with his pumpkin juice. He was not going to let his symptoms interfere with these exams. He simply refused to let it happen. Mind over matter. He could do this.

The Ancient Runes exam went surprisingly well. He'd been nervous for this exam in particular because he'd self-studied. To his delight, he wasn't the only one. Daphne Greengrass, a blonde Slytherin he didn't know, had also self-studied.

To his relief, each question was something he knew, answers flowing from his quill as fast as he could write them. The Runic translations were complex but not excessively difficult. Harry breezed through them with ease, taking care to clearly draw each Rune.

The final question almost made Harry laugh out loud. It asked for the student to draw any Runic sequence that could contain malicious magic and explain the significance of each Rune. Without hesitation, Harry drew the Rune Circle he'd used in the Chamber of Secrets, nearly running out of space as he explained the complex importance of each Rune.

He finished with 5 minutes to spare, rushing to double-check his answers. He found one mistake, correcting it just as the examiner called for them to put their quills down.

Harry shook out his right hand, trying to dispel the dull ache that came from writing that fast for that long.

Lunch was spent cramming facts about Goblin Rebellions into their heads, trying to memorize who'd killed who, when, with what, and in what gruesome way.

"Was Vilherd the Violent the King before or after Wickel the Wicked?" Ron asked, shuffling frantically through his notes.

"Those aren't even real Goblins, Ron," Harry quipped.

Ron's face turned white.

"What? I could have sworn…"

"It's Victor the Violent and Winston the Wicked. Their names were far more similar to those of Wizards during that period."

"Right!" Ron exclaimed.

"As a consequence of the Great Friendship formed between Goblins and Wizards in 1130 with the Treaty of Todrel."

Hermione stared at Ron in open shock.

"That's exactly right, Ron!"

"No need to sound so surprised," Ron muttered, failing to disguise his blush.

The History of Magic exam was the most boring thing Harry had ever experienced. He knew the answers, but writing them down was painful. He found himself yawning nearly every other sentence, wondering when this torture would be over.

When it finally ended, they dragged themselves to dinner, eating as quickly as they could before heading back to the Common Room for more schoolwork.

"I hate everything," Fred moaned, sliding off the sofa and onto the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Don't worry, Freddie," George said cheerfully, looking up from his Transfiguration notes.

"Everything hates you too."

Harry laughed, feeling a bit of his anxiety ease.

Fred scowled at his brother, crumpling up a piece of parchment and throwing it at him. It hit George squarely in the nose, bouncing off his face and tumbling to the floor.

While the Twins engaged in a parchment battle, Harry turned his attention back to Astronomy. It was the final exam of the week, taking place at 10 on Friday evening, and it was the one Harry was most nervous about. He just couldn't get the position of the stars exactly right.

It was nearing midnight and Harry still couldn't get anything right. Fed up, he snapped a quill out of frustration, nearly stabbing it through his hand.

"That's enough," George said, taking the mangled quill from Harry's hand.

"Go to bed."

Harry didn't even try to argue, dragging his aching body up the stairs.

He fell asleep easily, exhaustion overwhelming him.

…

Tuesday and Wednesday passed quickly and successfully. Harry had found Arithmancy absurdly easy, Care of Magical Creatures exciting, and Charms predictable.

Despite his feeling that the exams were going well, Harry himself was not feeling at all well. He felt run-down and tired. His health was failing him. Just as Snape had said it would.

Harry refused to complain, however. He was going to make it through his exams even if it nearly killed him.

Thursday brought with it the Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Divination OWLs. The Defense theory section was fairly simple, asking students to explain how they would act in a series of hypothetical situations. The practical was far more interesting. Harry was being tested by an extremely old man named Professor Tofty. The man was very excited to be working with Harry Potter, nearly bouncing off his chair as he took notes on his clipboard.

Harry performed each Spell with ease, enjoying the warm buzz of the magic as it ran through his body. Just as the exam ended, Professor Tofty looked up at Harry with a hopeful expression in his eyes.

"Mr. Potter, I have heard that you can produce a Corporeal Patronus. Is that true?"

Harry nodded, confused as to how this was relevant.

"Would you be willing to demonstrate it for me? For extra credit, of course."

Extra credit? In that case, he'd be a fool not to do it.

"Expecto Patronum," he cried, thinking of Sirius' smiling face.

The enormous, glowing stag erupted from his wand, cantering down the length of the Great Hall. The other students turned to look at it, jaws dropping as they took in the beautiful, ethereal creature.

Harry let the stag fade out of existence, dropping the happy memory.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," Professor Tofty gushed, scribbling rapidly on his parchment. The man reached out and shook Harry's hand vigorously before dismissing him.

Harry spent lunch listening to Neville explain the finer points of Herbology, awed by how much the boy knew. The exam itself was a struggle to get through. The questions weren't difficult, but Harry had a terrible headache throughout the practical, making it nearly impossible to focus. It was only through great force of will that he managed it.

The muddy students trudged back to the castle for dinner. They had around 3 hours before the Divination exam was set to begin. Harry wasn't entirely sure why it was happening at night. He imagined it had something to do with the position of the planets.

Because the exam was in the evening, some of the other Professors came to observe, sitting in a corner of the Great Hall. Harry wasn't surprised to see Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick. He was, however, surprised to see Snape. The man looked highly annoyed, scowling at everyone who passed. Harry could see the flicker of amusement in Professor McGonagall's eyes as she watched Snape pout. He would bet several Galleons that the older woman had forced Snape to come.

Harry was once again matched with Professor Tofty, a fact which seemed to delight the man. The examiner was seated very close to where the Professors were sitting, making Harry feel somewhat like he was being scrutinized. He tried his best to ignore it.

The exam was made up of three parts: reading tea leaves, palmistry, and crystal gazing. Harry read his tea leaves easily, finding that he was going to face a great trial. That was hardly shocking. Then, he read Professor Tofty's palm, learning that the man was set to live for at least another 30 years (he was already 123). Finally, he turned to the Crystal Ball. After his conversation with Luna, Harry knew that anything he saw in this orb was only a possible future. It wasn't guaranteed. That was somehow comforting.

Harry reached his magic toward the Crystal Ball, sending a small amount into the ball itself. Harry definitely didn't want to fall into a trance as he'd done the last time he saw something in a Crystal Ball.

He saw Sirius. The man was grinning as he walked down...Diagon Alley.

DIAGON ALLEY! Sirius was free!

The image collapsed, swirling away.

Sirius was no longer grinning.

He was no longer walking.

He was lying on a stone floor, eyes blank, skin too pale.

He was very clearly dead.

Harry jerked back, nearly falling out of his chair as he disconnected from the Crystal Ball.

"What did you see, Mr. Potter?" Professor Tofty asked, eyes huge behind his thick glasses.

Harry could feel eyes on him, could tell that the Professors were watching this interaction closely.

"I saw my dog dying," Harry blurted out, figuring that was the best description he could give without revealing who Sirius was.

Professor Tofty patted his hand sympathetically.

"Remember, not everything we see comes to pass. Your dog may be just fine."

Harry nodded, praying he was right.

Once dismissed, Harry left the Great Hall as quickly as possible, heading up to the Owlery. He wanted to see Hedwig.

His beloved owl flew directly to him, feathers glowing under the moonlight.

"Hey, girl," Harry whispered, stroking her soft head with his fingers.

"She is a very beautiful bird."

Harry whipped his head toward the voice, surprised to see Dumbledore standing at the entrance to the Owlery. He moved toward Harry, reaching out a hand to stroke Hedwig. She preened under his hand, clearly charmed by Dumbledore.

"You are disturbed by what you saw in the Crystal Ball."

Harry nodded, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

"I saw him free at first, just walking down Diagon Alley. Then, the image changed and he was dead."

Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard with one hand.

"You saw two possibilities, Harry. Do not despair. The first vision may be the one that occurs."

"But what if it isn't?" Harry asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

"What if he dies?"

Dumbledore said nothing for several moments, staring off into the night.

"It would be a tragedy. I hope that it will not happen, but if it does…"

"I don't think I could survive it," Harry said softly, not looking at Dumbledore.

"Losing him...I just don't think I could live through that."

Harry knew it was true. Losing Sirius would break him. Maybe beyond repair.

"I thought the same thing once, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

"My sister died when she was very young. It was my fault, you see. A duel gone wrong. She tried to intervene and was hit by one of our Spells. I still do not know if it was my own magic that killed her."

Harry said nothing, shocked by this story. He'd never known this about Dumbledore.

"I loved her so very much. More than anything. She was damaged, mentally ill and traumatized, but she was the sweetest person I'd ever known. So kind, so loving."

Dumbledore paused, wiping a tear away.

"After she died, I thought the sun had gone out. I wanted to die with her, to leave a world that would dare take her from me. Her death tore my family apart, created a rift so wide that we've never crossed it. I lost everything that day: my brother, my sister, Gellert…"

Harry started at the name. Gellert as in…

"Yes, Harry. Gellert Grindelwald. We were very close as young men. More than close."

Oh.

"He was brilliant. A visionary. He wanted to liberate all of us. His ideals were noble at the beginning, but he grew more and more militant in his plans. He wanted liberation at a cost I could no longer agree to pay. His vision of a perfect society involved the silencing of all voices of dissent, a strategy which only ever leads to despotism. It was over this that we fought. My brother wanted to stop him entirely, kill him before he could undertake his mission. I was still too in love with him to want him dead. I thought I could change him, thought that I could bring him back to reason. After Ariana died, I couldn't be near him anymore. It was simply too painful."

Dumbledore fell silent again, pain lining his old face.

"I let him go, hoping he could change for the better, hoping that the boy I loved would return. Instead, he launched a campaign of violence across Wizarding Europe, killing so many, harming so many. It was then that I learned to not let emotions conflict with what must be done. It is the reason I left you with the Dursleys, the reason I let myself believe that Sirius was guilty, the reason I involve you in a fight that you are much too young for. I have been given immense power, Harry. Power that I do not deserve, power that I do not know what to do with. Ever since I lost Ariana, I have been terrified of myself, terrified to trust my instincts about people. I trusted Gellert, loved him, and he ripped me to shreds. I can no longer allow my feelings to interfere with fighting this war. It could lead to disaster."

Harry nodded, understanding for the first time just how much the world was asking of Albus Dumbledore.

"I understand, Sir."

Dumbledore smiled at him. A sad, sincere smile.

"I am sorry, Harry. I am so very sorry that you may lose Sirius. I would spare you this pain if I could, but I cannot risk the world for you, no matter how much I may care about you."

Dumbledore brushed another tear from his face.

"It's alright, Sir. If I lose him, I'll…"

Harry choked on his words, heart hammering.

"I'll still defeat Voldemort. I won't give up. I just…"

Harry stopped, unsure if he wanted to be this honest with Dumbledore.

"If he dies, I think…"

Dumbledore had been honest with him. Harry would do the same.

"I don't know if I could ever feel happy again."

Dumbledore nodded sadly, eyes full of sorrow.

"I hope, Harry, that we will never have to find out if that is true."

…

Harry woke on Friday feeling as if he'd been run over by a lorry. Every part of his body was throbbing. His chest was tight, his throat burned, and his skull felt as though someone was hitting it over and over again with a sledgehammer.

He dragged himself out of bed with great difficulty, refusing to quit when he was this close to the end. He had three more exams today: Transfiguration, Potions, and Astronomy. He just had to make it through today. He could sleep all weekend if he wanted to.

Harry choked down some eggs at breakfast, fighting against his complete lack of appetite.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, peering at him from over the top of her notes.

"You look a bit green."

"I'm fine, Hermione," he reassured her, flashing a smile.

"I'm just nervous for Astronomy."

It wasn't a lie. He was nervous about the Astronomy exam. He'd memorized the Star Charts, but he was sure he would forget everything as soon as the exam started. Astronomy just didn't make any sense to him.

Hermione seemed satisfied by his response, turning back to her Transfiguration notes.

The Transfiguration exam was enjoyable. Harry had grown to love the subject over the past year. It was a link to his father, a way of remembering something James Potter had loved to do.

The practical exam made Harry smile because they were working on transfiguring kittens into teapots. It didn't hurt the cats. In fact, they seemed to rather enjoy themselves.

Harry was paired with a small black kitten with enormous blue eyes. The animal was so cute that Harry almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing. In the end, he successfully produced a blue teapot in the exact same shade as the kitten's eyes.

Griselda Marchbanks, who was administering the exam, had been delighted with it, lamenting the fact that they had to turn it back into a cat. Harry left the exam feeling confident about his results.

Lunch passed quickly, a mad scramble to review their Potions notes. Neville was a mess, pale and shaky. Harry reminded him that Snape wouldn't be there, but the boy was terrified. Harry knew that Neville's grandmother wanted him to be just like his parents. Apparently, both Frank and Alice Longbottom had gotten Outstandings on their Potions OWL. Harry had no doubt that Neville was capable of getting the highest grade, but he feared that his friend's lack of confidence would get in his way.

"Neville," Harry said, pulling his friend aside before they entered the theoretical exam.

"Don't think about expectations, alright? Just think about how much your parents loved Potions. Think about doing what they loved and loving it too. Alright?"

Neville smiled at him, genuine and pure.

"Is that what you do?" he asked tentatively.

Harry nodded, returning the smile.

"Yes. It helps me stop thinking about whether or not they would be disappointed."

Neville frowned at that.

"Harry, your parents could never be disappointed in you. You're amazing!"

"Same goes for you, Neville."

The grin that broke across Neville's face made Harry's day.

…

The Potions exam went beautifully. The theory was interesting, and the practical was a Potion that they'd reviewed with Snape not three weeks ago. At the end of the exam, Harry had produced a perfect Potion. Better yet, so had Neville.

Neville left the exam on cloud nine, walking to dinner with a spring in his step.

During dinner, Harry did his best to cram every bit of information about stars into his head. This was made difficult by the return of the splitting headache from that morning. His head felt like it weighed 50 kilos. On top of that, he had a weird tightness in his chest. It felt like congestion but more painful. Harry tried to reassure himself that he wasn't getting sick. He couldn't be. He never got sick. This was probably just exam stress manifesting itself in a weird way.

By the start of the Astronomy exam at 10 that evening, Harry was having a difficult time denying the fact that he was sick. He felt truly terrible.

He found himself actually knowing the answers to the exam questions, but his vision kept swimming in and out making it difficult to write legibly. He just barely managed it. Hopefully, the graders would be able to read what he'd written.

"10 minutes left!" Professor Tofty announced, sounding far too gleeful for this time of night.

Harry scrambled to finish his questions, swaying on his feet as he looked into his telescope. He needed to pull it together.

At last, the exam was over. Harry handed in his paper, keeping his hand on the wall as a wave of dizziness swept over him. What the hell was going on?

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville walked down the steps of the Astronomy Tower, heading back toward Gryffindor Tower.

They never made it.

About halfway through the journey, Harry was hit with a wave of dizziness so powerful that he had to stop walking, gripping onto the wall as the world spun around him.

"Harry?" Hermione said, noticing his predicament.

"What's going on?"

Harry shook his head, unable to form words. Hermione approached him, laying a hand on his forehead. Her eyes darkened.

"You're feverish. We need to get you to the Hospital Wing. Neville, Ron, you two take him to Madame Pomfrey. I'm going to go fetch Professor Snape. This must be related to the Potion."

Neville and Ron helped Harry to the Hospital Wing, supporting most of his weight as he was hit with wave after wave of vertigo. He wasn't even sure which way was up anymore.

Madame Pomfrey was not at all pleased to see him, especially because she couldn't give him any Potions until the Dark Magic blocker was out of his system. She got him into a bed, muttering about stupid ideas and dangerous fevers. All she could do was place a cool cloth on his forehead and give him water. Everything else would have to wait until Snape said the Potion was out of his bloodstream.

The Potions Master arrived in record time, Hermione trailing behind him. He waved his wand over Harry, face serious as he took in the numbers.

"How long until I can give him other Potions, Severus?" Madame Pomfrey asked, worry on her face.

"The Potion lasts for 12 hours. Potter took his last dose around 8 pm, so you'll have to wait until morning."

Harry struggled to sit up, panic flooding through him.

"I can't be here," he croaked.

"Not if I'm taken off the Potion. I could hurt someone."

Madame Pomfrey pushed him back down, patting his shoulder reassuringly.

"We'll take your wand, Harry."

Dumbledore had arrived, resplendent in deep purple robes.

"You will not be able to harm anyone. You are very ill. You are hardly a threat at the moment."

Harry shook his head, trying and failing to sit up again.

"You can't know that."

Dumbledore sighed.

"No, but I doubt that he can exert as much influence as he did on the occasion you are thinking of."

Harry knew that Dumbledore meant the Horcruxes, understanding that he didn't want to say anything about them in front of all these people.

"Even if he does attempt to invade your mind, I have no doubt that you will prevail."

Harry wasn't so sure, but before he could respond he was cut off by a coughing fit. When had he developed a cough? When it was over, Harry gave up on listening to the adults. He felt very strange. He didn't like it. His body was too hot.

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the night, ripped from terrible dreams by Madame Pomfrey's cool hands on his face.

By the time the ruby light of sunrise broke over the trees, Harry was in dire straits. His fever had risen to just over 40 degrees and Madame Pomfrey was struggling to keep it from going any higher. There were still two hours until he could take a Fever Reducing Potion, and things were quickly becoming dangerous.

Morning brought with it the return of Harry's friends. They'd been shooed away the night before, but they refused to stay away now. Harry could just barely recognize them through the daze of delirium that had settled over him. He felt George take his hand, but was completely unable to return the gesture. He lost time, mind drifting away as he felt himself growing weaker and weaker.

Whatever illness he'd caught was progressing incredibly rapidly. The congestion in his chest was making it difficult to breathe, and Harry was reduced to taking in rattling gasps of oxygen, struggling to remain conscious.

At last, his blood was completely clean of the Potion. Madam Pomfrey wasted no time, pouring Potions down his throat as fast as he could take them.

They took effect almost immediately, bringing his fever down to a safer level and helping to clear his lungs. Madam Pomfrey assured him that he wasn't out of the woods quite yet. His immune system had been compromised by the Potion to such a degree that even Potions couldn't completely erase this illness. He'd probably need several days to recover enough to leave.

"You should be released by the Leaving Feast," she told him kindly.

Harry groaned. That was 5 days from now.

His friends left around noon, heading for lunch. Only George remained, seemingly unwilling to let Harry out of his sight.

Dobby, who had apparently been watching the whole series of events, brought George a large plate of food. Upon catching sight of Harry, the small elf began crying profusely, hugging Harry so tightly it hurt.

"Do I really look that bad?" Harry croaked, voice raspy from hours of coughing.

"Yes," George said, tone full of snark.

"You look like a corpse."

"An attractive corpse?" Harry asked, surprising himself with his own forwardness.

"Of course," George said, rolling his eyes.

"How are you feeling? Any Voldie on the brain?"

Harry laughed at the term, immediately falling into a coughing fit.

"No…" Harry said, gasping for breath.

"Good."

George fell silent, munching on the sandwich Dobby had brought him.

"How did Astronomy go?"

"Alright actually!" Harry said, smiling widely.

"I think I did pretty well."

"Even if you didn't, you have a pretty good excuse."

Harry laughed again.

"Do you think the Ministry will add a note to my exam?"

"Oh yes. The classic "student experienced life-threatening medical condition during the exam yet chose to continue because they are a stubborn idiot" excuse. I'm sure they'd include that if you asked."

Harry scowled at him, unimpressed. George just smiled wider.

Harry spent most of the rest of the day sleeping, drifting in and out of bizarre dreams. The strangest one involved stars mocking him while the Giant Squid played drums in the background. Upon reflection, Harry decided to bring the Squid a drum set and see what happened. The dream Squid had been very talented.

As evening fell, Harry's mind began to feel fuzzy, a mist of confusion descending over his thoughts. At first, he thought it was just his fever, but as the night drew on, Harry finally realized what was happening.

It was already too late.

By the time Harry understood what was going on, Voldemort had already woven his way into Harry's mind so completely and so subtly that he was everywhere. Harry was boxed into a tiny space at the very center of his consciousness, unable to do anything but watch in horror as his body and mind were taken over.

At last, Voldemort opened his eyes, taking in the white interior of the Hospital Wing. He flexed his fingers, noting how young the boy really was. He couldn't hold back a smile, feeling the strange sensation as this foreign face split into a feral grin.

They had taken the boy's wand. As if the mere lack of a wand could possibly stop Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore always was such a fool. All he had to do was bide his time. All he needed was one person to make a mistake, one person to bring a wand near him. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped.

When that happened, his plan could finally begin.

A/N: See y'all on WEDNESDAY