Exam week. The words hung in the air exactly the way bricks didn't. The
Slytherin House had levelled out on a kind of constant studying-phase,
though not as frantic any more. I could now recite every hex, spell and
curse we'd learned in six years and even some that we hadn't. Millicent
could name every section of Whimperton's Sequence of Transfiguration
word- perfect. Draco sometimes spouted mathematics in his sleep, and he
wasn't even taking Arithmancy.
We were, in short, as ready for the exams as we ever would be.
The first exam for me was Arithmancy. I was there well before anyone else, sat in one of the arranged seats and tried not to sweat ice. Hopefully, despite having mostly crammed Defence into my head, I'd be able to remember some of the mathematics I'd learned over the years. Draco's sleeping mutters might have helped some. The second person to walk in was Granger. Despite our battles, she gave me a weak smile, perhaps to try and apologise for having scarred my arms, and settled down near the front of the classroom.
The classroom slowly filled, and Vector walked in, looking criminally happy. Really, it should be illegal to look that happy on an exam week. She greeted us with a happy good morning and put the parchments down in front of us. The clock started ticking, and the exam week had begun in earnest. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again and started writing. It was easier than I had imagined. As soon as I got the hang of how to do it, it was a walk in the park. Albeit a park with nasty rakes hidden in the lawns.
Two hours and twenty-eight minutes later, I walked out of the classroom, three minutes after Granger left. She and I were the last ones in the classroom. We had had a bit of an endurance-race of our own during the last twenty minutes, checking and re-checking our answers till Vector threw us out. She had been smiling though, which was severely disconcerting. I hate it when teachers smile at me. They always think they know something I don't.
Granger looked happy, but tired. There were dark rings under her eyes. Her hands trembled. Excessive studying, with a dosage of worrying over Potter, I analysed. Wasn't good that. For a split-second I was angry at Weasley for not knocking her out when she studied so much. And still, looking more tired and worn out than I could remember seeing her, she had done at least as good a job at her exam as I had. Though it was grudgingly, some respect for Granger sparked in my miserably cluttered mind.
My next exam was Charms, but I had two hours free in which to eat, sleep, do some last minute studying and go frantic worrying. Today's lunch was some kind of unidentifiable fried things on a plate, with spaghetti. It didn't taste bad at all, but I would have felt better if I knew what it was. Correction, I would have felt less suspicious if I knew what it was. I was already trying not to throw up, thinking about the written Charms exam. While being very good at the practical end of Charms, the theoretical part was sort of my weak point. The theoretical end of most things, when it came down to it, which was why I'd had such doubts about Arithmancy.
Too bad our practical exams, excluding Defence, were all put up for tomorrow. I chewed on the Fried-Things nervously, and reflected that today would have been a good day to stay in bed. Or even in the hospital wing.
"Break a leg on the exam, Blaise," Millicent wished me.
"I hope I won't break anything else," I sincerely expressed.
'
If someone had told me after my first Charms lesson that Professor Flitwick was frightening, I would have laughed at them. The little man was perpetually cheerful, and so tiny, and so utterly nice, that the thought of him as scary was just laughable. If someone had told me so just before my exam, I would have gone all "raised-eyebrow-y" on them and snorted my perfected Slytherin snort.
But, sitting there with my exam in front of me, looking at the tiny old man, I couldn't find any other word but frightening to describe him. How the man could possibly smile that much when he had just handed us the thickest wad of parchment I had seen since I was three feet high was a mystery. It was nothing short of the most gruelling written exam I had ever been through. The O.W.L's were nothing on this.
1.Who was the much famed inventor of the Ventus-spell?
2.Name three of the spell's properties.
3. If confronted with the Venomous Tentacula, which spell would be the simplest way to dispatch any danger caused by it?
And so on, filling all too many pages for my liking. How the heck should I know the best way to dispatch Venomous Tentaculas? What if what they really wanted was a one-way ticket to Bahamas? Grumbling quietly under my breath, I started filling in all the questions I was certain of the answer to, and decided to go back to the rest of them when I had gone through the test once.
Next to me, I could hear Millicent humming some melody she'd come up with to teach her some basic Latin during the studying weeks, and smiled against my will. Trust her to come up with some crazy way to remember things. She was so much like me at times that it was frightening. In front of me, Granger was scribbling furiously on her paper, making me wonder if she made any spaces between the words, or if she'd just learned a special short-hand which Flitwick could read too. It wasn't impossible.
I answered as many of the questions as I could before handing in the exam. Still, I was one of the first to leave the classroom, and felt rather bad about it. It was our last exam for the day, since both Transfiguration tests were tomorrow, and Defence the day after that. We didn't have a written part in Defence this year: I'd specifically asked Lucas about it, and all he had said was that we'd get a practical test, for us to prove how much we'd really learned. Despite my frantic studying, I was worried about what it might be. Knowing Lucas like I thought I did, he'd throw us to the wolves and then have a mighty good time watching us trying to keep our heads above the pandemonium.
Opting to escape out into the open air for a while, I ducked out in a courtyard and sat down on one of the stone benches. The sun was shining, which wasn't too strange. Calculating quickly in my head, I realised we had only three weeks left to summer break. Funny how fast time seemed to have gone since Christmas. It seemed to have just disappeared. From Christmas break to Valentine's Day had been some kind of zombie-like trance, while Valentine's Day and forward had been routine. From the announcement of our Defence exam, there had been a constant state of work, and then the exams turned up just after I realised I didn't have anywhere to go for the summer.
Turning my thoughts from time to the summer, I tried to think of places I could stay. Parkinson's were out of the question, since there was no way Pansy's mother would suffer a disowned boy in her household, even if both Pansy and her father insisted. The Malfoy residence, for all that Narcissa tried to keep appearances up, was a broken home, and if I stayed there, people would be watching every step I took. The Bulstrode's, for all that Millicent was one of my best friends, didn't like me any more than Harry Potter did. And to belabour any other of my friends with my all other than sane presence was out of the question. A room in Diagon Alley was, so far, my only option, since I didn't like the thought of having to fly across the English Channel again.
The sun had sunk considerably when I came back to reality once more. From the loud noises of my stomach, it was just about time for dinner. I got up and walked swiftly to the Great Hall. Maybe there were still some Fried- Things left. If there wasn't, I'd have to make do with shepherd's pie and mashed potatoes, which definitely weren't my favourite. For all her other shortcomings, my mother's cooking was excellent, and my mouth still watered at the thought of any of the dishes she made. Except broccoli. I couldn't stand broccoli.
Well in front of the Great Hall, I remembered that the O.W.L's were still under way, and I'd have to eat in the kitchen if I wanted dinner. Grumbling and trying to silence my stomach, I set out on the rather lengthy walk to the kitchens. On the way there, I tried to imagine what kind of food I'd pick to eat. The possibilities were endless: pasta, mashed potatoes, friend potatoes, rice, chicken, beef, ham, puddings, anything the House Elves could cook up quickly. Tickling the pear when I arrived, I stepped into a kitchen more crowded than usual.
Millicent, looking like she'd just run a marathon through the Forbidden Forest, struggled through the crowd of Elves and students to get to me. I could spot Draco and Pansy eating some pasta dish with sauce over by the wall, Potter was miming some kind of Quidditch move to a bored-looking Hermione Granger, who was chewing on what looked suspiciously like the Fried-Things I'd been after. Millicent herself had a plate of sandwiches, held high to avoid bumping into anyone.
"Blaise, you miserable little git, where the heck have you been?" She snapped, albeit good-naturedly at me. "We've been looking all over for you."
"I was in some random courtyard," I shrugged, "I needed some time to think. Are those sandwiches for me?"
"Naturally: one of the House Elves, Dobby I think he called himself, suggested I'd try peanut butter. Said he got it from some cookbook Dumbledore gave him." Millicent nodded. "It's quite good actually."
"Hmm." I replied, chewing on one of the sandwiches. "How did Charms go?"
"I couldn't remember who invented the Ventus spell," Millicent shrugged, "And there were a few others that I missed, but otherwise it wasn't too bad. You?"
"I didn't know which spell to use on a Venomous Tentacula, so I chanced wildly." I told her as we made our way through the crowd to Draco and Pansy. "How were we supposed to know that, anyway?"
"I think it was just so that Flitwick could see how well we could reason in an unfamiliar situation," She said.
"Bloody annoying it was," I said. "How did your exams go? Care of Magical Creatures, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Draco grinned. "It was fun watching that fire-breathing chicken the oaf brought nearly incinerate Weasley."
"Fire breathing chickens?" I asked, chewing on my sandwich and not caring that I was being rude, "Isn't breeding for new species illegal?"
"Laws never stopped that stupid oaf before, did they?" Pansy pointed out.
"It wasn't Hagrid!" Potter snapped from the next table. "Don't you talk that way about him!"
"Lay off it, Harry," Granger sighed heavily. "It's not like they haven't said it before."
"But- but - "Potter sputtered.
"Just don't, alright? I don't want to have to visit you in the infirmary again." Granger looked at him in desperation. "You've done so well this year, and only been there once. Please don't wind up there again?"
I had to stop myself from chuckling at her tone. She sounded just like a mother speaking to a troublesome child – right after they'd asked if all flames were as hot as the one they'd burned their fingers on. It was hilarious that someone could talk down to Potter like that and get away with it. I gestured with a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich at the two Gryffindors.
"Granger's right, Potter. We really shouldn't bother to argue. It's too early for petty rivalries. Sandwich?" I said, just to irk him. It was so much fun watching him try to keep his mouth shut.
I went to bed still amused that night, though I fell asleep quickly. Mocking Potter, which was what I had done until Granger looked like she would kill me, was a lot of fun. I could completely understand why Draco did it all the time. As I drifted off to sleep, the last image in my mind was that of Granger's face: half-disapproving, but trying her damnedest not to laugh when I inquired whether Potter intended to use Expalliarmus next time he ran into a Venomous Tentacula. It had seemed such an obvious question at the time, but the large dosage of spiked Butterbeer might have had something to do with it.
'
Charms practical. Finally, our first practical exam. After Arithmancy, Charms and the Transfiguration written, it was nice to finally be able to wield a wand again. After some quiet practising while alone in the dorm, I'd realised that I could perform all but the most complicated spells, such as Expecto Patronum, without a wand. It was hard to control the force of the spells without a wand though, as I discovered when I tried to light a candle with Incendio and instead lit the drapes of my bed on fire. Draco gave me some weird looks when he came back and found the dorm filled with smoke. I put on my best innocent expression, and probably got away with it.
Despite that I was secure in my knowledge of Charms, my palms were sweaty when Professor Flitwick called me in. We each had to go in and perform the Charms he asked us to do, to show how much we had learned over the year. I was nervous, since my attention in Charms hadn't been the best, and I'd missed quite a few lessons on account of being hospitalised. Flitwick, however, looked immensely pleased when I came into the room.
"Good day, Mr Zabini," He chirped. "If you would please read the instructions on the blackboard, and we will get started immediately."
I read the instructions quickly, wondering for a second whether Flitwick had written them himself, or if he'd needed help. They asked for a couple of different Charms, among others one that could change the temperature of things, make them colder, and one that made them hotter. I was to practice these Charms on a teacup of water. It was surprisingly easy, considering that I had been in the infirmary when we were supposed to learn the Charms. First, I heated the water up until steam rose from the cup, and then froze it so quickly that the china broke.
"Sorry," I mumbled, patching the teacup up again. "Seems I concentrated too hard."
"That's perfectly alright," Flitwick beamed, and I wondered why he was happy I broke his china. "Most people would have used Repairo on that cup, but you didn't. Your Charm was significantly more advanced. I'd say I'll let you off now: please send in Ms Bulstrode."
I did as he asked, but couldn't help feeling like I was in trouble. There was no way the exams were supposed to be that short. I couldn't wait for this day to be over: if these exams were any indication of what the N.E.W.T's would be like, I considered fleeing to Siberia. Tiny grinning professors with teacups should be outlawed.
'
The rest of the day passed in relative calm, though when I had to transfigure my desk into a living animal, it went a bit too well. Thankfully, McGonagall didn't comment as she removed the claw-marks from her walls. A raging tigress wasn't what I had intended, but once more, I lost a little bit of the control I had over my magic, and was a bit too enthusiastic in the transfiguration. She assured me that it was perfectly alright, just as Flitwick had done, which made me suspect the two had talked in between exams. There was something strange about McGonagall not caring that because of me, several of her personal possessions were ruined.
Something was off. Little alarm-bells went off in my head when McGonagall attempted a tight smile in my direction. It was time to go an interrogate Lucas.
Crazy Defence professors always have some quirky habit. Quirrel, Merlin rest his miserable soul, used to talk to his iguana. In class. Lockhart was obsessed with himself, and talked about his adventures to anyone who would listen. Lupin, other than growing a lot more hair once a month, was addicted to chocolate. Mad-Eye shouted "Constant vigilance!" every time he turned a corner in the hallways. Umbridge had her frills and ugly bows, and the annoying habit of passing Educational Decrees to left and right. Lucas' quirky habit turned out to be eating chocolate, just like Lupin, but instead of drinking it, or eating bars of it from Honeydukes, Lucas lined them up on his desk and fired small hexes at them. The the pieces started smoking, or burned with a bright blue flame for a moment, or just exploded in a million tiny fragments, before I popped them in his mouth and continued grading. I had to stop myself from laughing before I cleared my throat.
"Zabini? Come on in," Lucas seemed awfully happy, although he stayed true to his habits and didn't smile. "Chocolate?"
"Not if you have to kill it first," I said, sitting down in the chair opposite to his desk.
Lucas handed me an unscathed chocolate. I munched on it and took in the sheer volume of parchments stacked on his desk. It was a very heavy desk: the desk-top was made of oak, and it was two inches thick, but it looked as if it was bending underneath the weight of what I guessed were exams. Lucas returned to one of the tests, red-inked quill held high, and finished marking it. I swore I heard him snigger once.
"What put you in such a happy mood?" I asked.
"Failing grades," He looked up from the next essay. "You won't believe how many fourth years missed the answer on the question about vampire's. They've been reading too much Muggle literature: one of them even believed the most famous vampire of all times were named Lestat de Lioncourt. Ignorant, the lot of them."
"I suppose."
"Red ink looks rather uplifting on an exam parchment." He commented. "Severus really was right about grading. It's as fun as you make it, and if you're in the right frame of mind, there is nothing more hilarious than a failing grade."
"You're weird, mister," I shook my head. "But I didn't come here to talk about grading."
"And I'm sure it wasn't because of the pleasure of my company either," Lucas reasoned.
"It's about Flitwick and McGonagall, really." I said, and Lucas raised his eyebrow. "I made a teacup explode in my Charms exam today, and all Flitwick did was grin, replace it and shoo me out. I turned a desk into a rather unhappy tigress in my Transfiguration practical, and all McGonagall did was patch up the walls and send me out."
"A lot of students have mishaps during exams." Lucas pointed out.
"She smiled at me." I said dully. "McGonagall never smiles at me. In fact, if both of us were trapped in a burning house, she'd get the china out before she helped me."
"No. She'd get you out right after she'd gotten her carpet slippers," Lucas snorted softly. "But Minerva McGonagall is a woman with strong views, and she wouldn't smile at you after destroying her office."
"But she did."
"And you rightly demand an explanation," Lucas nodded thoughtfully. "While I don't know honestly what possessed her to smile at you, I can give the most plausible suspicion."
"Do so." I ordered.
"Dumbledore, for all that he is a fearsome and intimidating man, seems to find amusement in keeping secrets." Lucas started in his usual, roundabout way. "I was, obviously, well aware of your father's death, but the other teachers weren't. McGonagall, for one, thought you were being juvenile, while Vector theorised you suffered from what she termed teen angst. Ignorant, the lot of them, just like the fourth years, but Dumbledore kept his peace. At the beginning of the week, McGonagall remarked that you looked like you'd been dead for months, and Dumbledore finally decided to tell them. I've never seen Eos swear that much. Poppy seemed to be on the verge of crying, but your father always was one of her favourite students. I believe that McGonagall's attempt to be nice to you today may be a reaction to that information."
"Hmm." Was all I said. Well, that would explain it. There was no way that McGonagall would smile at me if the situation wasn't extreme. "It seems plausible, like you said. Well, that was all I wanted to know, so I'll go now."
"Don't bring your wand tomorrow." He called as I opened the door. I shut the door again, and turned around.
"Why not?" I asked suspiciously.
"Because you won't need it, and because I wish to test your current limits in wandless magic," Lucas said, his tone indicating it should have been obvious and that I was acting like a dunderhead.
"Fine." I said after a while. He must know I hadn't told anyone, so he wouldn't tell me to leave my wand unless I wasn't going to blow my carefully erected cover. "But only because I'm feeling nice today."
Lucas just popped another massacred chocolate in his mouth and looked at me serenely. If his eyes hadn't been red, and he hadn't looked to be not one day over thirty, I would have sworn he looked like Dumbledore with a lemon drop. It was eerie.
Snorting quietly to myself, I made the long trek down all the stairs to my dorm, intent to sleep as much as I could before the most frightening exam I had had to date.
'
Ending Notes: And the Defence exam rolls around. Soon, sixth year will be ended, and I'll only have about ten chapters (rolls eyes) to go on this monster.
We were, in short, as ready for the exams as we ever would be.
The first exam for me was Arithmancy. I was there well before anyone else, sat in one of the arranged seats and tried not to sweat ice. Hopefully, despite having mostly crammed Defence into my head, I'd be able to remember some of the mathematics I'd learned over the years. Draco's sleeping mutters might have helped some. The second person to walk in was Granger. Despite our battles, she gave me a weak smile, perhaps to try and apologise for having scarred my arms, and settled down near the front of the classroom.
The classroom slowly filled, and Vector walked in, looking criminally happy. Really, it should be illegal to look that happy on an exam week. She greeted us with a happy good morning and put the parchments down in front of us. The clock started ticking, and the exam week had begun in earnest. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again and started writing. It was easier than I had imagined. As soon as I got the hang of how to do it, it was a walk in the park. Albeit a park with nasty rakes hidden in the lawns.
Two hours and twenty-eight minutes later, I walked out of the classroom, three minutes after Granger left. She and I were the last ones in the classroom. We had had a bit of an endurance-race of our own during the last twenty minutes, checking and re-checking our answers till Vector threw us out. She had been smiling though, which was severely disconcerting. I hate it when teachers smile at me. They always think they know something I don't.
Granger looked happy, but tired. There were dark rings under her eyes. Her hands trembled. Excessive studying, with a dosage of worrying over Potter, I analysed. Wasn't good that. For a split-second I was angry at Weasley for not knocking her out when she studied so much. And still, looking more tired and worn out than I could remember seeing her, she had done at least as good a job at her exam as I had. Though it was grudgingly, some respect for Granger sparked in my miserably cluttered mind.
My next exam was Charms, but I had two hours free in which to eat, sleep, do some last minute studying and go frantic worrying. Today's lunch was some kind of unidentifiable fried things on a plate, with spaghetti. It didn't taste bad at all, but I would have felt better if I knew what it was. Correction, I would have felt less suspicious if I knew what it was. I was already trying not to throw up, thinking about the written Charms exam. While being very good at the practical end of Charms, the theoretical part was sort of my weak point. The theoretical end of most things, when it came down to it, which was why I'd had such doubts about Arithmancy.
Too bad our practical exams, excluding Defence, were all put up for tomorrow. I chewed on the Fried-Things nervously, and reflected that today would have been a good day to stay in bed. Or even in the hospital wing.
"Break a leg on the exam, Blaise," Millicent wished me.
"I hope I won't break anything else," I sincerely expressed.
'
If someone had told me after my first Charms lesson that Professor Flitwick was frightening, I would have laughed at them. The little man was perpetually cheerful, and so tiny, and so utterly nice, that the thought of him as scary was just laughable. If someone had told me so just before my exam, I would have gone all "raised-eyebrow-y" on them and snorted my perfected Slytherin snort.
But, sitting there with my exam in front of me, looking at the tiny old man, I couldn't find any other word but frightening to describe him. How the man could possibly smile that much when he had just handed us the thickest wad of parchment I had seen since I was three feet high was a mystery. It was nothing short of the most gruelling written exam I had ever been through. The O.W.L's were nothing on this.
1.Who was the much famed inventor of the Ventus-spell?
2.Name three of the spell's properties.
3. If confronted with the Venomous Tentacula, which spell would be the simplest way to dispatch any danger caused by it?
And so on, filling all too many pages for my liking. How the heck should I know the best way to dispatch Venomous Tentaculas? What if what they really wanted was a one-way ticket to Bahamas? Grumbling quietly under my breath, I started filling in all the questions I was certain of the answer to, and decided to go back to the rest of them when I had gone through the test once.
Next to me, I could hear Millicent humming some melody she'd come up with to teach her some basic Latin during the studying weeks, and smiled against my will. Trust her to come up with some crazy way to remember things. She was so much like me at times that it was frightening. In front of me, Granger was scribbling furiously on her paper, making me wonder if she made any spaces between the words, or if she'd just learned a special short-hand which Flitwick could read too. It wasn't impossible.
I answered as many of the questions as I could before handing in the exam. Still, I was one of the first to leave the classroom, and felt rather bad about it. It was our last exam for the day, since both Transfiguration tests were tomorrow, and Defence the day after that. We didn't have a written part in Defence this year: I'd specifically asked Lucas about it, and all he had said was that we'd get a practical test, for us to prove how much we'd really learned. Despite my frantic studying, I was worried about what it might be. Knowing Lucas like I thought I did, he'd throw us to the wolves and then have a mighty good time watching us trying to keep our heads above the pandemonium.
Opting to escape out into the open air for a while, I ducked out in a courtyard and sat down on one of the stone benches. The sun was shining, which wasn't too strange. Calculating quickly in my head, I realised we had only three weeks left to summer break. Funny how fast time seemed to have gone since Christmas. It seemed to have just disappeared. From Christmas break to Valentine's Day had been some kind of zombie-like trance, while Valentine's Day and forward had been routine. From the announcement of our Defence exam, there had been a constant state of work, and then the exams turned up just after I realised I didn't have anywhere to go for the summer.
Turning my thoughts from time to the summer, I tried to think of places I could stay. Parkinson's were out of the question, since there was no way Pansy's mother would suffer a disowned boy in her household, even if both Pansy and her father insisted. The Malfoy residence, for all that Narcissa tried to keep appearances up, was a broken home, and if I stayed there, people would be watching every step I took. The Bulstrode's, for all that Millicent was one of my best friends, didn't like me any more than Harry Potter did. And to belabour any other of my friends with my all other than sane presence was out of the question. A room in Diagon Alley was, so far, my only option, since I didn't like the thought of having to fly across the English Channel again.
The sun had sunk considerably when I came back to reality once more. From the loud noises of my stomach, it was just about time for dinner. I got up and walked swiftly to the Great Hall. Maybe there were still some Fried- Things left. If there wasn't, I'd have to make do with shepherd's pie and mashed potatoes, which definitely weren't my favourite. For all her other shortcomings, my mother's cooking was excellent, and my mouth still watered at the thought of any of the dishes she made. Except broccoli. I couldn't stand broccoli.
Well in front of the Great Hall, I remembered that the O.W.L's were still under way, and I'd have to eat in the kitchen if I wanted dinner. Grumbling and trying to silence my stomach, I set out on the rather lengthy walk to the kitchens. On the way there, I tried to imagine what kind of food I'd pick to eat. The possibilities were endless: pasta, mashed potatoes, friend potatoes, rice, chicken, beef, ham, puddings, anything the House Elves could cook up quickly. Tickling the pear when I arrived, I stepped into a kitchen more crowded than usual.
Millicent, looking like she'd just run a marathon through the Forbidden Forest, struggled through the crowd of Elves and students to get to me. I could spot Draco and Pansy eating some pasta dish with sauce over by the wall, Potter was miming some kind of Quidditch move to a bored-looking Hermione Granger, who was chewing on what looked suspiciously like the Fried-Things I'd been after. Millicent herself had a plate of sandwiches, held high to avoid bumping into anyone.
"Blaise, you miserable little git, where the heck have you been?" She snapped, albeit good-naturedly at me. "We've been looking all over for you."
"I was in some random courtyard," I shrugged, "I needed some time to think. Are those sandwiches for me?"
"Naturally: one of the House Elves, Dobby I think he called himself, suggested I'd try peanut butter. Said he got it from some cookbook Dumbledore gave him." Millicent nodded. "It's quite good actually."
"Hmm." I replied, chewing on one of the sandwiches. "How did Charms go?"
"I couldn't remember who invented the Ventus spell," Millicent shrugged, "And there were a few others that I missed, but otherwise it wasn't too bad. You?"
"I didn't know which spell to use on a Venomous Tentacula, so I chanced wildly." I told her as we made our way through the crowd to Draco and Pansy. "How were we supposed to know that, anyway?"
"I think it was just so that Flitwick could see how well we could reason in an unfamiliar situation," She said.
"Bloody annoying it was," I said. "How did your exams go? Care of Magical Creatures, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Draco grinned. "It was fun watching that fire-breathing chicken the oaf brought nearly incinerate Weasley."
"Fire breathing chickens?" I asked, chewing on my sandwich and not caring that I was being rude, "Isn't breeding for new species illegal?"
"Laws never stopped that stupid oaf before, did they?" Pansy pointed out.
"It wasn't Hagrid!" Potter snapped from the next table. "Don't you talk that way about him!"
"Lay off it, Harry," Granger sighed heavily. "It's not like they haven't said it before."
"But- but - "Potter sputtered.
"Just don't, alright? I don't want to have to visit you in the infirmary again." Granger looked at him in desperation. "You've done so well this year, and only been there once. Please don't wind up there again?"
I had to stop myself from chuckling at her tone. She sounded just like a mother speaking to a troublesome child – right after they'd asked if all flames were as hot as the one they'd burned their fingers on. It was hilarious that someone could talk down to Potter like that and get away with it. I gestured with a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich at the two Gryffindors.
"Granger's right, Potter. We really shouldn't bother to argue. It's too early for petty rivalries. Sandwich?" I said, just to irk him. It was so much fun watching him try to keep his mouth shut.
I went to bed still amused that night, though I fell asleep quickly. Mocking Potter, which was what I had done until Granger looked like she would kill me, was a lot of fun. I could completely understand why Draco did it all the time. As I drifted off to sleep, the last image in my mind was that of Granger's face: half-disapproving, but trying her damnedest not to laugh when I inquired whether Potter intended to use Expalliarmus next time he ran into a Venomous Tentacula. It had seemed such an obvious question at the time, but the large dosage of spiked Butterbeer might have had something to do with it.
'
Charms practical. Finally, our first practical exam. After Arithmancy, Charms and the Transfiguration written, it was nice to finally be able to wield a wand again. After some quiet practising while alone in the dorm, I'd realised that I could perform all but the most complicated spells, such as Expecto Patronum, without a wand. It was hard to control the force of the spells without a wand though, as I discovered when I tried to light a candle with Incendio and instead lit the drapes of my bed on fire. Draco gave me some weird looks when he came back and found the dorm filled with smoke. I put on my best innocent expression, and probably got away with it.
Despite that I was secure in my knowledge of Charms, my palms were sweaty when Professor Flitwick called me in. We each had to go in and perform the Charms he asked us to do, to show how much we had learned over the year. I was nervous, since my attention in Charms hadn't been the best, and I'd missed quite a few lessons on account of being hospitalised. Flitwick, however, looked immensely pleased when I came into the room.
"Good day, Mr Zabini," He chirped. "If you would please read the instructions on the blackboard, and we will get started immediately."
I read the instructions quickly, wondering for a second whether Flitwick had written them himself, or if he'd needed help. They asked for a couple of different Charms, among others one that could change the temperature of things, make them colder, and one that made them hotter. I was to practice these Charms on a teacup of water. It was surprisingly easy, considering that I had been in the infirmary when we were supposed to learn the Charms. First, I heated the water up until steam rose from the cup, and then froze it so quickly that the china broke.
"Sorry," I mumbled, patching the teacup up again. "Seems I concentrated too hard."
"That's perfectly alright," Flitwick beamed, and I wondered why he was happy I broke his china. "Most people would have used Repairo on that cup, but you didn't. Your Charm was significantly more advanced. I'd say I'll let you off now: please send in Ms Bulstrode."
I did as he asked, but couldn't help feeling like I was in trouble. There was no way the exams were supposed to be that short. I couldn't wait for this day to be over: if these exams were any indication of what the N.E.W.T's would be like, I considered fleeing to Siberia. Tiny grinning professors with teacups should be outlawed.
'
The rest of the day passed in relative calm, though when I had to transfigure my desk into a living animal, it went a bit too well. Thankfully, McGonagall didn't comment as she removed the claw-marks from her walls. A raging tigress wasn't what I had intended, but once more, I lost a little bit of the control I had over my magic, and was a bit too enthusiastic in the transfiguration. She assured me that it was perfectly alright, just as Flitwick had done, which made me suspect the two had talked in between exams. There was something strange about McGonagall not caring that because of me, several of her personal possessions were ruined.
Something was off. Little alarm-bells went off in my head when McGonagall attempted a tight smile in my direction. It was time to go an interrogate Lucas.
Crazy Defence professors always have some quirky habit. Quirrel, Merlin rest his miserable soul, used to talk to his iguana. In class. Lockhart was obsessed with himself, and talked about his adventures to anyone who would listen. Lupin, other than growing a lot more hair once a month, was addicted to chocolate. Mad-Eye shouted "Constant vigilance!" every time he turned a corner in the hallways. Umbridge had her frills and ugly bows, and the annoying habit of passing Educational Decrees to left and right. Lucas' quirky habit turned out to be eating chocolate, just like Lupin, but instead of drinking it, or eating bars of it from Honeydukes, Lucas lined them up on his desk and fired small hexes at them. The the pieces started smoking, or burned with a bright blue flame for a moment, or just exploded in a million tiny fragments, before I popped them in his mouth and continued grading. I had to stop myself from laughing before I cleared my throat.
"Zabini? Come on in," Lucas seemed awfully happy, although he stayed true to his habits and didn't smile. "Chocolate?"
"Not if you have to kill it first," I said, sitting down in the chair opposite to his desk.
Lucas handed me an unscathed chocolate. I munched on it and took in the sheer volume of parchments stacked on his desk. It was a very heavy desk: the desk-top was made of oak, and it was two inches thick, but it looked as if it was bending underneath the weight of what I guessed were exams. Lucas returned to one of the tests, red-inked quill held high, and finished marking it. I swore I heard him snigger once.
"What put you in such a happy mood?" I asked.
"Failing grades," He looked up from the next essay. "You won't believe how many fourth years missed the answer on the question about vampire's. They've been reading too much Muggle literature: one of them even believed the most famous vampire of all times were named Lestat de Lioncourt. Ignorant, the lot of them."
"I suppose."
"Red ink looks rather uplifting on an exam parchment." He commented. "Severus really was right about grading. It's as fun as you make it, and if you're in the right frame of mind, there is nothing more hilarious than a failing grade."
"You're weird, mister," I shook my head. "But I didn't come here to talk about grading."
"And I'm sure it wasn't because of the pleasure of my company either," Lucas reasoned.
"It's about Flitwick and McGonagall, really." I said, and Lucas raised his eyebrow. "I made a teacup explode in my Charms exam today, and all Flitwick did was grin, replace it and shoo me out. I turned a desk into a rather unhappy tigress in my Transfiguration practical, and all McGonagall did was patch up the walls and send me out."
"A lot of students have mishaps during exams." Lucas pointed out.
"She smiled at me." I said dully. "McGonagall never smiles at me. In fact, if both of us were trapped in a burning house, she'd get the china out before she helped me."
"No. She'd get you out right after she'd gotten her carpet slippers," Lucas snorted softly. "But Minerva McGonagall is a woman with strong views, and she wouldn't smile at you after destroying her office."
"But she did."
"And you rightly demand an explanation," Lucas nodded thoughtfully. "While I don't know honestly what possessed her to smile at you, I can give the most plausible suspicion."
"Do so." I ordered.
"Dumbledore, for all that he is a fearsome and intimidating man, seems to find amusement in keeping secrets." Lucas started in his usual, roundabout way. "I was, obviously, well aware of your father's death, but the other teachers weren't. McGonagall, for one, thought you were being juvenile, while Vector theorised you suffered from what she termed teen angst. Ignorant, the lot of them, just like the fourth years, but Dumbledore kept his peace. At the beginning of the week, McGonagall remarked that you looked like you'd been dead for months, and Dumbledore finally decided to tell them. I've never seen Eos swear that much. Poppy seemed to be on the verge of crying, but your father always was one of her favourite students. I believe that McGonagall's attempt to be nice to you today may be a reaction to that information."
"Hmm." Was all I said. Well, that would explain it. There was no way that McGonagall would smile at me if the situation wasn't extreme. "It seems plausible, like you said. Well, that was all I wanted to know, so I'll go now."
"Don't bring your wand tomorrow." He called as I opened the door. I shut the door again, and turned around.
"Why not?" I asked suspiciously.
"Because you won't need it, and because I wish to test your current limits in wandless magic," Lucas said, his tone indicating it should have been obvious and that I was acting like a dunderhead.
"Fine." I said after a while. He must know I hadn't told anyone, so he wouldn't tell me to leave my wand unless I wasn't going to blow my carefully erected cover. "But only because I'm feeling nice today."
Lucas just popped another massacred chocolate in his mouth and looked at me serenely. If his eyes hadn't been red, and he hadn't looked to be not one day over thirty, I would have sworn he looked like Dumbledore with a lemon drop. It was eerie.
Snorting quietly to myself, I made the long trek down all the stairs to my dorm, intent to sleep as much as I could before the most frightening exam I had had to date.
'
Ending Notes: And the Defence exam rolls around. Soon, sixth year will be ended, and I'll only have about ten chapters (rolls eyes) to go on this monster.