Marisa woke up bright and early on Monday morning, ready for the exams. She ate a large bowl of porridge despite having little appetite. As it was half past six in the morning, Leo and Marisa were safe from interruption and could talk freely.
"Nervous?" asked Leo.
"You bet," replied Marisa.
"Me too," said Leo. "I think I might fail Charms."
"I know I'll fail History of Magic," Marisa responded. "I can never remember the dates of anything." She paused before saying, "Do you mind if we – well, I – go flying? It might help calm me down."
"Okay," said Leo, "just let me grab a textbook so I can do some revision while we're at it." He shoved the last bite of toast into his mouth and got to his feet. They walked back to the common room together and then crept up to their dormitories. Marisa retrieved her Nimbus and Leo grabbed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One.
That done, they set off to the Quidditch pitch. They were lucky enough to avoid being seen. Once there, Marisa swung her leg over her broom. "Ready?" she asked.
"Whenever you are," said Leo, turning to page forty-two and beginning to read.
Marisa pushed off from the ground and began to loop around the Quidditch pitch, going faster with each lap. Soon the wind was rushing through her hair, ruining the neat plaits she'd spent five minutes sorting out. She didn't care, though.
There was no better feeling than soaring through the air with nothing but her and her broom and the roaring wind. Up here she was certain that she was a better flyer than anyone in her year and that she had no reason to be jealous of Harry Potter. She was certain that she would pass all of her exams with flying colours. And she was completely in control of everything.