Chapter Twenty Four: The Dirty Dozen

Seven thirty the following morning found a small group standing outside the Room of Requirement. Susan Bones looked panic stricken, Terry Boot looked rather green, and Hermione Granger looked positively eager.

Harry smiled. It was odd how differently people responded to the stress of prospective exams.

He glanced over at Ron, who was lounging against the corridor wall, blankly looking off into space, a slight smile on his face and his eyes shining. He was, Harry thought, probably thinking about Quidditch. The Chudley Cannons had actually qualified for World Cup play. Ron was gleeful over it.

"You don't look too concerned," Harry laughed.

"About what?"

"The day of exams we're facing."

"Should I be?" Ron asked, looking at Harry.

Harry considered this. "Well, you're always nervous about exams... what's different this time?"

"The exams are different," Ron stated.

"Well, yes..."

"The way I've got it figured, Harry..." Ron continued. "Is that it's not like we have to qualify or anything... I mean... we're all committed. You're in no matter what, and they'd have to be daft to think you'd be going anywhere without me..."

"And?"

"So, the outcome of these exams means nothing in the end. It's the professors job to train us... to teach us enough to be able to win... and survive if we can."

Harry stayed silent.

"And, in the end, the only thing that really matters is surviving the battle with Voldemort and, well... getting him. So long as Dumbledore has someone decent to teach us DADA..."

"I see what you mean," Harry said softly.

"I figure that these exams are just for show, really," Ron shrugged as he whispered this last in a low voice, glancing down the corridor to see Dumbledore making his way toward them. "I mean, what really counts is what we learn from now on... right? Or we wouldn't be here at all. Besides..."

"Besides?" Harry asked, straightening from the wall as the door appeared on Dumbledore's command.

"Despite popular belief..." Ron grinned as the others began moving past them after Dumbledore into the room. "I'm not quite as thick as I look."


As Ron had suspected, the exams weren't nearly so bad as they had thought they'd be. Perhaps because they hadn't had time to worry about them, perhaps because the questions all seemed rather... pointless... knowing what they all now knew. But by lunchtime, with three exams written, the group was smiling and joking with each other as Professor McGonagall collected their Transfiguration exam sheets.

As they stood to proceed to the doors to make their way down to the Great Hall for their noon meal, she spoke.

"You will be eating in this room, awaiting your Potions exam at one thirty."

"What?" Seamus groaned. "We've been stuck in here since before bloody eight this morning. We need a break, Professor!"

"No one will be leaving until all of the exams are completed," McGonagall said sternly. "And watch your language, Mr Finnegan."

"Professor," Hermione began. "Some of us may need to...?"

With an understanding half smile, McGonagall waved behind her and a door appeared. "Will that do, Miss Granger?"

"I'm sure it will, Professor," Hermione smiled. "Thank you."

With that, all four girls disappeared through the door. Ron snorted.

"Why in..." he threw a guilty glance at the Professor and swallowed. "Why do girls do that?"

"What?" Neville looked at the door, then back to Ron.

"Go to the loo in packs," Ron shook his head.

Harry noticed a twinkle in the elderly professor's eye, but she refrained from commenting, and simply told them that the house elves would have lunch to them shortly. With a nod, she swept through the door and was gone.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered. "I could use a breath of air."

Harry closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. At the sound of surprised gasps, he smiled and opened them.

"Will that do, then?"

"Too right it will!" Ron laughed, looking around the small meadow, ringed with trees, that they now appeared to be standing in.

"Harry?" Colin looked around, suitably impressed. "I didn't know it could do that while you were in here!"

The girls appeared from behind a tree, standing and looking around, rather surprised.

"What happened in here?" Susan asked, looking around.

"Ron wanted a bit of air," Seamus explained, for all the world as though nothing was more normal.

"We rather thought you girls would like a picnic lunch," Ron smiled as several picnic baskets appeared. Harry never ceased to be impressed with the houseelves and their abilities.

"What a lovely idea!" Hermione glowed, making her way to Ron's side.

"We'll have to watch for Common Snorkacks..." Luna began.

"I thought they were called Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" Neville asked.

"And I thought you said they lived in Sweden or somewhere...?" Susan looked at the Ravenclaw girl oddly.

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack does live in northern Europe..." Luna continued. "The Common Snorkack is native to Britain. They inhabit the grass of deserted meadows. It's their breeding ground."

Neville, looking suspiciously at the ground beneath his feet, glanced nervously at Harry.

"Yes... but this isn't really a meadow," Harry began, trying to be diplomatic. With Luna, it wasn't always easy. Or rather, with Luna's ideas. "This is the Room of Requirement, so..."

"Oh! I'd forgotten that!" Luna beamed at him. "Of course there won't be any Snorkacks here!"

With this, she happily plopped herself down on the grass to be joined a moment later by a much-relieved Neville.

Hermione, Ginny and Ron opened the picnic baskets and began to spread out the food around them. Sliced ham and cheese, onion tart, cornish pasties, and flagons of pumpkin juice and lemonade all appeared and the hungry teens dove in. Within thirty minutes, the platters were decimated and they were all lying back on the quilts that Hermione had transfigured from the spare serviettes in the picnic baskets.

Ron gave out a loud belch, only to have Hermione huff at him about his manners.

"Hermione," Ron said, laying back with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. "In some countries, I just paid the cook a huge compliment."

"Yes, well, this isn't some countries, Ronald Weasley. This is Scotland, and here..."

"Hermione?" Ron interrupted her.

"What?"

"I apologise. Now shut up and kiss me."

"Bloody hell, Weasley," Seamus rolled away from the picture of Ron and Hermione snogging. "You'd think that you'd be able to keep your hands off each... aw, come on!"

Seamus's snort of disgust drew the attention of everyone to where Harry lay on his back, Ginny laying across him. Guiltily, they looked up at the others and froze.

"Um... sorry..." Harry flushed.

"Wherever you bloody look anymore there is a bloody Weasley snogging..."

"Do tell, Mr Finnegan," the cold voice of their Potions professor came to them. As a group, they turned to see him watching them coldly from the edge of the clearing.

"Professor..." Seamus sat up.

"Potter, are you responsible for this... Walt Disney nightmare?"

Harry, after resisting the urge to snort with laughter at Snape's rather droll comment, nodded. Those of the group with no muggle background looked at him oddly, but Harry didn't comment, only nodded.

"Yes, Professor."

"Impressive, I suppose... if it had any purpose. If you would be so kind... I rather require a potions lab for this next examination."

Harry closed his eyes and when he opened them, they were surrounded by a potions lab. Tables, chairs and equipment in place. It rather looked like the potions lab in the dungeons, only this was quite obviously above ground. Bright sunlight streamed in through tall windows along three walls of the room.

Snape cocked an eyebrow at this. "Rather... bright, isn't it?"

"I thought you might fancy a change from more... dismal surroundings, Professor. Shall I change it?"

"No... no, Potter. That is fine. No doubt the lot of you, with the possible exception of Miss Granger, will not be able to manage this regardless of light or... darkness."

Harry didn't miss the glint in Snape's eye as he glanced at him.

"I'm sure we'll manage, Professor."

"I would be content with the possibility of Mr Longbottom resisting the urge to blow us all to Hogsmeade through his ineptitude, Potter. However, as I do not believe in miracles, come... let's get this farce over with, shall we?"

An hour later, when touring the lab inspecting the drafts the students had produced, Snape stopped beside Harry's cauldron,. He sniffed over it, and then wrote something on his clipboard.

As he went to move away, Harry glanced up. "Farce?"

Snape paused and looked back at him through narrowed eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You called this a farce," Harry said in an undertone. "Is it?"

"Speak your mind, Potter," Snape replied in an equally low voice.

"I'm asking, Professor, if you believe that these exams are a farce... put in place by the Headmaster to mislead... misdirect. I think we both know..."

"Sometimes you surprise me with your insight, Potter," Snape said in a tone that could not be overheard. "It is unfortunate that you do not utilize this skill more frequently."

"Wasn't me, actually," Harry whispered back dismissively. "Ron figured it out."

Snape's eyes registered surprise once more as he glanced over at Ron, then back to Harry.

"Shocking," he murmured.

"You'd be surprised, Professor. Ron understands a great deal about strategy... and we both suspect..."

"I think you and I both know what these exams are about, Potter. I am understandably surprised at Weasley's ability to comprehend it. He has shown no aptitude for insight in the seven years I have known him."

"So it's true, then?" Harry asked. "These exams are pointless..."

"Not pointless," Snape denied. "The Headmaster believes that certain... rites... must be observed for the more... academic... of your number to accept what is in store for them."

"The Ravenclaws...?"

"Not necessarily. But those who are more comfortable with the thought of their natural abilities, and the abilities of others, being identified in a more scientific manner."

"So he already has decided what our roles are to be, then?"

"You and I both know, Potter, that our roles... our fates... were cast years ago."

"So the Divination..."

Snape snorted. "Useless wand-waving and silly tea drinking."

"But you just said that our fates..."

"I said, our fates were cast. I said nothing about the questionable ability to read the future in tea sludge. Divination is nothing more than the hocus pocus and mumbo jumbo that the muggles believe in. Anyone who believes otherwise is a fool of the first order."

Harry considered this as the Potion Master moved away to inspect Neville's brew, which was bubbling alarmingly and letting off a rather unpleasant stench.

It was strange, that, he thought. Perhaps, just perhaps, he'd just had a real conversation with Snape. Would wonders never cease?


Classes began the next morning, and Harry was rather surprised at the climate in the room. Certain people took lead roles in each class... and Harry was amused when he realized that it correlated almost directly with the exam results that Dumbledore had posted on the wall the morning after their day of exams.

They had all been surprised at this when he did it, but with twinkling blue eyes he had simply smiled and said, "No secrets. You each will know each others strengths, and weaknesses."

"Well, it's apparent from this that we'd better all be giving Potter a hand if we hope to survive," Blaise had said, the sting taken out of his words with the sly smile he sent Harry.

"Oi... can't be that bad, can it?" Ron laughed.

"Doesn't matter..." Seamus said. "The Dirty Dozen will work like a finely tuned machine by the time we're done."

"The Dirty Dozen?" Ginny snorted. "Nice."

"It's a muggle movie me da made us watch... he watched it over and over... got right annoying it did... but it puts me in mind of what we're trying to do here," Seamus said with a shrug.

"That's the one with Lee Marvin, isn't it?" Colin asked.

"Lee Marvin?" Terry Boot laughed. "That bloke from Delta Force?"

"Yes..." Hermione nodded, rolling her eyes. "Not to mention the other hundred or so movies he made."

"Movies?" Ron glanced at Ginny, who shrugged and settled in her seat.

"Never mind, Ron..." Hermione said, noting Ron's confused look.

"No," Blaise said, eyeing Hermione. "If Finnegan is going to call us that, I'd like to know why."

Hermione sighed, then glanced at Seamus.

"Go ahead," he said. "You'll explain it a whole lot better than I could."

"The Dirty Dozen is a movie that was made in the sixties about this guy... he's a major in the muggle military. He's a bit of a ... well, he's very focused on what he has to do," Hermione glanced at Harry before continuing. "He... well, he pulls together this team of military prisoners... they're all doomed to death sentences... or they have no hope of getting out of jail anytime soon... and he trains them for a mission... to drop behind enemy lines and... well... it's not a very enjoyable movie..."

"Hey!" Seamus objected.

"... but I can see why Seamus drew that particular correlation... it's rather what we're trying to do as a group... train together, despite the odds, to defeat Voldemort and his inner circle..."

"Hmm," Blaise nodded, sounding suitably impressed.

"Very good, Miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled from the doorway. "And Mr Finnegan. I am very happy to see you drawing correlations to the muggle world... even if it is only the muggle entertainment world."

Hermione flushed, turning to face the front of the class.

"Now..." Dumbledore glanced around. "Shall we begin?"


At lunch, they found that they were required to stay in the Room of Requirement yet again, and a long table appeared to the side of the room, laden with what Harry suspected was currently being served in the Great Hall.

"I don't see why we have to stay here for lunch," Seamus grumbled.

"Well I, for one, am relieved, actually," Susan said, helping herself to a scoop of fruit salad.

"Relieved?" Seamus looked at her oddly as he took a mouthful of steak pie. "Bloody locked in a room all day?"

"Well," Susan flushed. "We can change it for a bit of a break. But I don't mind not having to deal with the questions from everyone else at lunch and dinner."

This caused everyone to stop and think. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore had asked that they stay in here until it was time to return to the dorms before dinner.

"Hey, Harry," Seamus came and sat down next to him later as they were enjoying the meadow again before their afternoon classes began.

"Hey, Seamus."

Seamus was silent a moment, watching as Ron swung Hermione around in the bright sunshine.

"They look good together, don't they?"

"Hmmm," Harry agreed, picking a blade of grass and studying it. "Seamus?"

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Sure..." Seamus said. "I mean... Imiss Dean... and..."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Me, too."

"And Lavender..."

"What's up with you and her, anyhow?"

"Nothing. That's the point."

"What?"

"She..." Seamus sighed. "Bloody hell, Harry... I can't trust her to..."

Harry was silent as the other boy flushed.

"I mean... she's great in... well... but... after a while, you want to know that your girl is your girl, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry's eyes wandered to where Ginny lay on the grass talking to Susan and Luna.

"I can't trust her, Harry."

Harry caught the tone in Seamus' voice... a tone he'd never heard there before. He looked at the other boy to find him staring out across the meadow.

"I just can't trust her. She even..." he swallowed. "She even talked about you."

"Me?" Harry turned pink, remembering what Neville said he'd overheard in Herbology.

"She thinks I don't know... but I do. There are plenty of blokes willing to tell you what your girl is saying behind your back, you know?"

"I'm sorry, Seamus. I certainly never gave her any..."

"I know. Not your fault, mate... I know that. It's just... with everything else... and Dean... I couldn't take her back this time. Not after Malfoy... not after that."

Harry looked over at the other boy... man. Seamus was no longer the skinny boy with a penchant for blowing things up. He was a man... over six feet tall, and with an expression on his face that Harry recognized all too well.

He saw it reflected in the mirror every morning.