NOTE: This is a Dystopian new adult romance story. The characters are from Harry Potter (some have their ages and relationships changed). But there is no magic or Hogwarts or Wizarding World.
This is the last Academy exam I will ever take. Thank God.
I stand in front of three corpses displayed on lab tables. This is the final portion of my practical exam. I spent the earlier part of the day sewing flesh, cauterizing wounds, and diagnosing a dozen illnesses. But this is the last of it. Just these three corpses, followed by a written exam, and I'm done.
I stand with a small, sub-group of my classmates: My practical test group. It consists of nine other Medical-focused students. The exam proctor stands before us, a beady-eyed Elite I've seen around the Academy on previous occasions.
With detached seriousness, he says, "Your prompt is: Determine the cause of death. Five minutes. Go." He clicks the stopwatch he holds in his hand. Tick. Tick. Tick. The countdown begins.
I approach the first body: An adolescent female, approximately nine years of age. Rash on the lower half of the body. I open her mouth and peer in. An Elite classmate subtly bumps me as he moves in for a closer look at the rash. I ignore it and move over to the second corpse. No need to spend time with the young girl. The rash is a distraction. Cause of death? Suffocation. I scribble it onto my clipboard and move on.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I eye the second body from afar as my classmates examine it; It's an older male. Mid-Eighties. I catch the eye of my friend and fellow exam taker, Padma. Her mouth turns up in a half-smile at me.
The proctor barks, "No conferring!"
We quickly turn our eyes back to the body. We should know better. As the only two Primaries in a room filled with Elites, we stand out. The proctor's eyes always follow us. I quickly examine the body. I spot the cause of death; the whites of his eyes have a tinge of yellow. His skin is hard and rubbery to the touch. It would need to be confirmed with an autopsy, but I scribble down the most probable cause of death- liver failure. I move on to the final body.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Two minutes left." The proctor announces.
My heart jumps. I'm doing fine on time! Relax! Just keep calm!
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I stare down at the final body, the only clothed corpse. It's an enemy soldier of the 'The Grey,' distinguishable by his blood-soaked grey army jacket.
The body is severely mangled. Did they leave the uniform on to send us a message? A warning of the danger outside of Meridian's walls? I don't have time to concern myself with such ideas.
I move on with the examination. It's an adult male. Anywhere from twenty to forty years of age. It's difficult to determine a more precise age because the face has been bashed in. The torso has multiple stab wounds and bullet holes. It's disturbing to look at.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I examine the head wound first. I look to the blood to point me in the right direction.
Two Elite classmates examine the body alongside me. One of them examines the head wound. He looks up at the other. Ever so subtly, the other Elite shakes his head no. I look away quickly. They're cheating. I catch the glance of the test proctor. He no doubt witnessed it. I wait a moment. Will he call it out? The proctor turns away to observe other students. No. He won't. I'm not surprised. The Elites take care of their own.
My Elite classmate was right to shake his head. The blood around the head wound shows that this wound was given post-death. I examine the gunshots and stab wounds on the torso. I conclude the same. All inflicted after the soldier was already dead. But what was the cause of death? I pull back the jacket and spot strange circular lacerations around the shoulders and chest. Perfectly circular. What could have made this? I prop the body up ever so slightly. The circular lacerations go all the way through: from back to chest, in clean two-inch diameter circles.
This would be much easier if we were doing autopsies. I think to myself.
I look at the blood surrounding the circular lacerations. This is the cause of death. I jot down the final cause of death: punctured coronary artery by unknown two-inch circular external foreign object. Now that's a mouthful.
I hate the color of blood. I hate red. Despite red being my least favorite color, it's the only color I've worn for the past twelve years. Outside of the Academy, your assigned color of clothing represents your status. Red is the lowest status of Primary, yellow means Core status, and green is Elite. But at the Academy, we are required to wear the color that represents our family's status. Or, in my case, a lack of a family. Most of the reds in my class are orphans; Our parents either died in the war, died in the great famine after the war, or just…died.
I hand in my exam sheet to the proctor. He looks me up and down, and then scoffs. This is the last week of prejudice I'll ever receive. Graduation is less than a week away. When I walk the stage, I'll be wearing the same color as him- green. I willbe an Elite.
I walk into the test room for the final written exam. This part will be easy. Compared to oozing wounds, bleeding kidneys, and dead bodies, one-hundred short-answer questions seem relaxing. I take a seat next to a girl with bright red hair wearing green. An Elite. My friend, Ginny. But everyone calls her G.
We know we can't speak while we wait for the exam to start. She cocks her head at me in a pointed, non-verbal 'How did it go?' way. I smile at her confidently. I give her the same inquisitive look back. She scrunches her face in a displeased way. G has never been a strong test taker. She openly admits the only reason she didn't fail Primary or Core exams is because of her family's Elite status. Elites never fail. It's impossible. This is a fact no one dares say out loud. No one except G.
Padma takes a seat next to us. The exam room quickly fills up with other science students. After a few minutes, the room is full, a sea of green cloaked Elites. A half-dozen yellow-smocked Cores sit in front. There are only two other Primaries in the room besides me. Three red-clad Primaries in a room of eighty science students. No one thought we'd get this far. But here we are.
The test is passed out. I quickly breeze through it. I've done extraordinarily little apart from studying in the past twelve years. I check my answers and turn in my test. Padma and G are still busy at work as I exit. I walk down the hallway. It feels as though a weight has been lifted off me. I am finally done! I don't know the results, but this chapter of my life is finally ending. Goodbye red blouse! Goodbye Primary status! Goodbye Academy!
"Hermione! Wait!" I hear a deep voice behind me. I whip around and see Harry, the only other Primary science student in our class besides Padma and me.
"So? How did you do?" he asks as he puts his arm around me.
"Fantastic! The easiest test I've ever taken," I exaggerate as I smirk at him, trying to annoy him with my confidence.
"I knew you were going to say that," he replies, rolling his eyes.
"Am I getting too predictable for you, sir?" I ask, playfully.
He plays with my bushy pony-tail. Twirling my hair around his finger. "Almost. But not yet."
We walk into the Dining Hall, still trying to out-annoy one another. We spot Neville, an Elite Science student a year behind us, sitting alone. We take seats with him. He's in a cloud of dread.
"I keep replaying a series of questions over and over in my head that I know I got wrong," he says to us, depressed.
"What were they? We can help you figure out if-" Harry starts, but is quickly interrupted.
"No! I know I got them wrong! I don't need it confirmed." Neville dips a spoon defeatedly into his pudding.
"You aren't even in your final year! Almost no one fails in your year!" Harry reassures Neville. But he quickly regrets the statement. Harry looks at me with remorse. The words cut into my like a knife.
Last year someone close to me failed the exam Neville just took. And I haven't seen him since. I smile and nod to Harry, to show him I'm alright.
"I have a high-stress personality!" Neville replies seriously. He chuckles to himself at how ridiculous he sounds, "How did you guys do?"
"Fantastic!" Harry and I say at the same time. We smile at each other. Neville rolls his eyes at us, used to our antics.
G comes up from behind us and takes an empty seat, "Glad that's over! Now all that's left to do is wait to be placed in the lowest level Elite career possible."
"For Biology, what is that?" Neville asks.
"...Biologist," G says worriedly. We all laugh at her.
"Maybe they'll invent something lower just for me!" G grabs a processed food bar from Neville's tray.
"Is Padma still testing?" Neville asks.
"She'll be in there rechecking her answers until time runs out," G says disapprovingly.
"She's had her eye on placing first in our class since Primary levels," I quip.
"It's not the wanting to graduate at the top of the class that bothers me," G acknowledges. "It's that she openly admits that she wants to win the invitation to the Elite Ladies Celebration. That's what irks me."
I dare not admit it to G, but I too want to win the invitation as well. The top boy and top girl in the Senior class get invited to an Elite Celebration. For the girls, that's the Elite Ladies Celebration. An annual party held in the exclusive neighborhood of Aquarius Estates. All the Elite women and their daughters attend. But every Senior class the top girls are already Elites; so they were already invited to the celebration.
"Wouldn't you want Padma to be invited? So you have someone to hang out with?" I ask G.
"God, no! I hide in the ladies' restroom most of the evening, anyway. I'd hate to have a reason not to. Besides, I'm not even going this year," G says decidedly as she eats the bar. She spits it back out.
"God, I miss meat." G declares as she tosses the food bar back down, "It's been what? Two years since we had it? Remember how delicious meat was?"
"No. I don't. Primaries didn't get to eat meat even when it existed…Remember?" I remind her.
"Right…sorry." G cringes.
"My father says they're planning on expanding the bio-food departments. They want to grow artificial meat. So, hopefully, we'll have that soon," Neville says in his matter-of-fact way.
G groans, "Bio food department? I'll probably be working on that,"
"Lord help us all," Neville shrugs.
"Hold on, G!" I realize, "Isn't the Elite Ladies Celebration mandatory for you?"
"Technically, yes. But I'm planning on feigning food poisoning tomorrow night. My mother won't want me there if she thinks I'm nuclear!" G smiles at herself.
The Dining Hall is filled now with seniors and underclassmen. All annual exams are coming to a close.
Two Elite seniors approach Neville: Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zambini. Draco is just shy of an impeccably handsome face. His blonde hair is slicked back, but falls into his face. The only thing that keeps him from ideal boyish looks is a small divot on his otherwise perfect nose.
"Longbottom?" Blaise says to Neville, "Are you coming to next week's Boy's Night?"
Neville's grandmother is the Aunt of President Malfoy. Making him Draco's second cousin. Despite Neville being my friend, he's intricately connected to the most elite of the Elite.
"Yeah. Same place?" Neville asks.
"New place- a graduation present from my father." Draco says smugly.
"The same group as last week…well, perhaps a few new faces," Blaise says to Draco with a knowing smirk.
"Are you finally expanding your social group?" G asks in a derisive tone.
"We should," he turns to Harry and I, "Care to join? Oh. Wait. You can't leave the school grounds. My mistake." Blaise says in a condescending tone.
Primaries and Cores are prohibited from leaving the Academy for any reason. I haven't left campus in the twelve years I've been here. I don't even know what Meridian City looks like, or anything beyond the grounds of the campus. My only knowledge of Meridian city is what I have learned in class and from G and Neville.
"No place for them anyway," Draco says coldly.
"You have something on your nose, Draco," I interject. "Right here." I gesture to his nose divot. "Oh…Oh wait. It's permanent. My mistake." I mock him.
Neville, G, and Harry snicker.
"Primary bitch," Blaise says to me before he turns on his heels and leaves.
Draco hangs a moment longer. He just stares at me. He almost looks amused. He smirks at me before he walks off. He's not noticeably offended. Which is strange. Considering, I'm the reason for that divot being on his nose.
"Why do you hang out with those assholes, Longbottom?" G asks Neville mockingly.
Neville shrugs "They aren't as bad when we're alone."
"Mhmm." G and I reply sarcastically at the same time. We then laugh at each other for our snarky unison.
Elites referring to other Elites by their last names, on the surface, seems harmless. But they do it because only Elites have last names. Me? A Primary? I'm just Hermione. Well, until graduation. Then I'll choose my last name: Granger. It's the last name I had before I even knew Meridian existed. That was twelve years ago. When my little sister, Luna, and I lived beyond the wall. To think, in less than a week, I'll be Hermione Granger again. An Elite Meridian doctor. Maybe even a surgeon. Depending on how well I did on my exam. And Luna will also be elevated to Elite status. She's half the reason I push myself so hard. Once I'm an Elite, she's an Elite. Well, at least while she studies at the Academy.
"Neville, I have a question. When you and your cousin Daniel are together, who do they call Longbottom?" G asks Neville.
"Both of us. We have the same last name."
"Hmm…What if someone wants to talk badly about one of you? How do they distinguish you from Daniel in conversation? How do people know which Longbottom is the Longbottom being talked about?"
That's why I love G. For years I've never once thought of that. G can be surprisingly clever.
Neville is perplexed, "That's a great question. I have no idea…maybe this explains the rumor last year about me sleeping with Emery Scott!"
"Want to take a walk around campus with me?" Harry says to me in a hushed tone.
I smile and nod as we sneakily leave the table with G and Neville still chatting.
"I'll meet you out front," I say to him as I step quickly into the girl's restroom.
I check myself in the mirror. I fuss with my hair. It's a mess. How can hair simultaneously be too flat and too poufy at the same time? I ponder. I tuck in my red blouse and admire my body for a moment. It could be worse. I think to myself as I leave.
Harry and I walk laps around the Academy. We talk about how life in Meridian city will be like after graduation.
"Will we be neighbors?!" I ask.
"We have to live close! Five-minute walk at the most!" he says to me with confidence, "Granger and Potter households!"
"Potter?" I ask him.
"My mother's last name," He replies to me, "It feels right."
We fantasize about life outside the Academy. How, when we are Elites, we are going to treat everyone the same! No prejudice among the ranks! His hand brushes mine for a moment and my cheeks warm at his touch. G and Padma are my closest girlfriends, but Harry has always been my best friend. I remember Primary School when he was two inches shorter than me and spoke with a lisp. He now towers over me and speaks with a deep, clear voice. How times have changed him.
"I have a confession," I say.
"What is it?" He asks eagerly.
"I want to place at the top of the class," I admit.
"That's not a confession! I knew that," He brushes it off.
"But I want to win the invitation to the Elite Ladies Celebration. I've been fantasizing about attending for over a decade." I feel silly admitting it. I want to go to a party. A silly party with Elite women where I know I would not fit in. But I still want to go.
He laughs, "I want an invitation to the Elite Men's Party, too."
"You do?!"
"I think it's normal for us to want it. To be one of them. Don't be discouraged by G. She doesn't know what it's like to not be an Elite. She's grown up going to the party every year. Being able to leave the Academy…She doesn't get it."
I nod my head. He's right. G doesn't know what it's like. She's received an invitation to that party every year.
"And, even if you don't place at the top, unless you completely failed the exam, you are definitely graduating with Elite status. So, you'll be invited next year. And every single year after for the rest of your life, Doctor." He says to me.
"That's Surgeon to you!" I proclaim obnoxiously to vex him.
Harry grabs my hand in his. I'm startled. We stop walking. He smiles at me.
"I wanted to feel a surgeon's hand," He says softly, pretending to examine my hand in his. My cheeks warm. I feel myself blushing. My heart races as his eyes gaze down at me. His skin is so soft. I think to myself. Finally, he smiles at me and drops my hand. We keep walking. My fast heartbeat slowing with every step.