Chapter 32
N.E.W.T.S
Monday morning of N.E.W.T.s finally arrived. Harry, Ron, Hermione and several other seventh-years queued up in the entrance hall after breakfast, along with Dean, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, Jon and a host of other students from the other Houses: Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley , Wayne Hopkins and Megan Jones from Hufflepuff; Parvati's sister Padma, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Lisa Turpin among the Ravenclaws; and Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and of course Draco Malfoy among the Slytherins. Harry noted without surprise that Crabbe and Goyle weren't among the students sitting for Charms N.E.W.T.s. Malfoy said nothing, but Harry caught him looking his way with a sort of satisfied smirk on his face.
The fifth-years were milling about as well with varying degrees of concentration, dread, or malaise on their faces. At about half-past nine the doors to the Great Hall opened and the fifth years were called forward; Harry could see, looking back into the Great Hall, that the four House tables had been replaced with a great many tables for one, just as during their fifth-year examinations. The fifth-years disappeared into the room and the double doors slowly shut, leaving the seventh-years alone. It was not much longer, however, before Professor Flitwick appeared and indicated that they should follow him.
Leading them into the corridor north of the entrance hall, they walked only a short distance before entering classroom 7, a rather large classroom (although much smaller than the Great Hall) that was arrayed with the same tables for one they'd used in their O.W.L.s. The tables were spaced a bit wider apart than in the Great Hall; they sat only four abreast. Harry expected that if they held their hands straight out none of their fingers would touch. At the front of the room was the teacher's desk, covered with additional quills, ink and extra rolls of parchment. Professor Flitwick waited until they had all been seated then faced the class.
"You're all aware, I'm sure," he said in his high, squeaky voice, "that there are powerful Anti-Cheating Charms placed on your examination papers, and that Auto-Answer quills, Self-Correcting Ink, and the like, are not permitted. I'm sure you've all done an admirable job of preparing for this test!" he finished, beaming at them.
Ron, two rows over and one ahead, glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye and looked upward toward the ceiling. Harry smiled slightly.
"Remember," Flitwick continued. "You have two hours for this examination, so if you can't answer a question straightaway, leave it and come back to it later – you never know when something else on the test may jog your memory," he added heartily. "Alright, and – begin," he said, turning over the hourglass sitting on the desk.
It was a grueling test. As well as questions about specific charms themselves, such as the Protean Charm (which Harry had expected to see), there were questions on wand techniques for charms, on verbal versus non-verbal spell wordings, and on determining the level of difficulty of a charm from its incantation, something Harry hadn't quite gotten the hang of during classes.
At the end of two hours, as the last grains of sand fell to the bottom of the hourglass, Professor Flitwick cheerfully announced, "Quills down, please! Now send your answers up to me, please." There was a final furious scribbling of a last few words, then everyone passed the parchment with their answers to the student in front of them, where they were collected at the front by Flitwick.
"Very good, very good," the Charms professor muttered, sorting through the handful of papers to check a few answers. "Ah, interesting!... Well, I daresay you're all ready for lunch, so have at it," and with an airy wave of his hand Flitwick dismissed them.
"So…what do you think?" Ron asked Harry as they walked back toward the Great Hall behind Hermione and Jon.
"It was a tough test," Harry admitted. "But I think I did pretty well on it."
"What did you answer for the three primary forms of the Protean Charm?" Hermione asked Jon.
"Direct transference, Conjuration and Transfigurmancy," Jon replied.
"I don't know if that last one will count," Hermione said doubtfully. "The correct term is 'Transfigurative Conjuration'."
"I actually added that as a footnote," Jon agreed. "I remembered the British usage after I'd written the American term but I didn't want to scratch out words on the test. It looks sloppy."
"Sloppy?" Ron said, his eyes widening. "I must've scratched out a couple dozen words on that test!"
"You won't be counted off, Ron," Hermione said gently, "or I would have warned you."
In the Great Hall they discovered that the four House tables were back for lunch. While Hermione and Jon swapped horror stories about the test ("I can't believe they asked about the Shield Charm, we were supposed to know that for O.W.L.s!"), Harry and Ron enjoyed a satisfying meal of corned beef and cabbage and steak and kidney pies.
After lunch, the fifth-years were called into the small chamber off the Great Hall for their practical examinations; the seventh-years were then ushered into the entrance hall, where they were led up the main staircase and down a seldom-traveled corridor and through a doorway into a long, windowless classroom divided into three sections. The center section held a number of chairs for students to wait until called for their practical examinations, while the other two sections were where the actual examinations took place.
As before, Professors Marchbanks and Tofty were administering the Charms practicals. Professor Marchbanks, a tiny, stooped witch, looked much the same as Harry remembered from two years before; though if possible, her face was even more lined. Professor Tofty, in his pince-nez, was as bald as ever, and seemed to be moving a bit more slowly than the last time he was at Hogwarts.
When his name was called, Harry found himself with Padma, Parvati and Dean awaiting examination with Professor Marchbanks. Dean and Harry swapped nervous smile, and Padma gave him a cheerful nod; glancing at Parvati, however, Harry saw that she seemed very tense – she was looking at the ceiling, forcing herself to breath slowly, through her mouth, as if to force herself to calm down. "Nervous?" Harry whispered, leaning over to her.
"A bit," she whispered back. "I'm just nervous about meeting Professor Marchbanks."
"Haven't you met her before?" Harry asked.
"Yes, but all my individual practicals were with Professor Tofty," she replied. "This will be the first time I've actually talked to her. I've wanted to for years – she's the number one Wizarding Examiner – I just didn't wish it could've been in different circumstances. You know?" Harry nodded. Now she had him wondering what meeting Professor Marchbanks would be like.
Pansy Parkinson emerged from the examination area with her lips set and thin – apparently her practical hadn't gone as well as she'd wanted, and Padma's name was called. She got up and with a glance at her twin sister, disappeared into the small room, reappearing several minutes later with a smile. Parvati was called in, and she whispered to Harry as she got up, "Wish me luck?"
"You'll do great," he told her. "But good luck anyway." Smiling delightedly, Parvati entered the room. She reappeared a few minutes later with her smile intact, waving to both Dean and Harry as she hurried to find her sister.
"Dean Thomas," Marchbanks ancient voice called next, and Dean looked over at Harry in surprise. "Potter" came before "Thomas" in the order Marchbanks had been using up to this point.
"D'you think she forgot you?" he asked, standing and looking at the examination room uncertainly." Should I tell her?"
"Don't point it out," Harry said. "She'll see me when she comes out for the next lot, if she's forgotten." Somehow, Harry didn't' think that she had. Dean disappeared into the room.
He emerged several minutes later, looking happy, and gave Harry a double thumbs-up gesture, which Harry returned as Dean left the room. Harry was now the last person left from his group waiting for Marchbank's examination.
"Harry Potter," Marchbanks called, and Harry walked into the room. She was there, a small but regal figure waiting for him at a small table with two chairs and several small objects upon it.
"Sit down, Potter, sit down," she said, rather loudly. Harry thought she'd been going slightly deaf the last time he'd seen her at the school – she spoke more loudly than she needed to. "Wondering whether I forgot you, weren't you?"
"Well –" Harry wasn't sure how to respond.
She went on as if he'd said nothing. "Not to worry, then, not to worry…I've been meaning to talk to you for some time, you know."
"You have?" Harry said, but he could guess, even now, what the subject would be. The very first time he'd seen her, Professor Marchbanks had mentioned that she'd known Albus Dumbledore since he was a student at Hogwarts.
"Yes," she said, now looking closely at him. "I've been told that you were one of the last people to see Professor Dumbledore alive. Is that true?"
Harry nodded.
"And that you'd been somewhere that evening with him, before the two of you returned to the school and he was killed. Is that true as well?" she continued. Her voice had become even quieter than before.
Harry nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"And that," Marchbanks went on, "thus far you've refused to reveal to anyone – your teachers, even the Minister of Magic – where you were or what you were doing. Correct?"
Harry nodded once again.
The old witch smiled at him. "Good," she said. "Albus was right about you, then. Right, then." She suddenly became businesslike. "Let's get started, then. If you'll –"
"Ma'am? Excuse me," Harry interrupted her. "I don't understand. Why did you ask me those questions? I know you knew Professor Dumbledore –"
"I did indeed," Marchbanks said loudly. "Nearly a hundred years! He was the most amazing young man I'd ever met, when I tested him for his Charms and Transfiguration N.E.W.T.s. He was always the most amazing man I've ever known." Marchbanks sighed. "I'm almost sorry I outlived him." She looked into Harry's eyes. "Forgive an old woman's foolishness, Harry. I hoped these last few minutes with you would be a way I could share a last moment with him, in a way.
"Albus confided in me, from time to time," she went on. "He was always proud of what you've become, in spite of how things were stacked against you, Harry. He knew how hard things have been, what you've been forced to endure, to get to this point."
"I've only done what I've needed to do, to try and make things right again," Harry said slowly. "For myself, and for my friends – I've just tried to make the right choice."
"Exactly," she said, leaning forward intently. "That's what Albus always found so special about you – the choices you've made, in spite of what they've cost you."
Professor Marchbanks leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers before her as she chose her next words. "Albus had been engaged in some very important work, for quite some time, Harry. I'm sure you know about that."
"I do," he said, nodding. Unconsciously he had copied her gesture as he listened to her speak.
"In fact, I daresay that you know more about what he's been up to these past few years than any living person," Marchbanks said, looking at him gravely. "I can tell you, such knowledge signifies a very high level of trust on Albus's part – he was, in his way, a very private man. I wanted you to know that."
Harry nodded. He thought he understood. "Let's begin, shall we?" Professor Marchbanks said.
A few minutes later Harry left the examination area, returning to the Gryffindor common room, where he, Hermione and Ron had agreed to meet after practicals. Giving the password to the Fat Lady ("Clabbert!"), Harry entered to find Hermione already studying for the Transfiguration N.E.W.T. the next day.
"How did it go?" Hermione asked, as Harry sat down beside her. He didn't go into the conversation they'd had beforehand; it seemed too personal to tell anyone else just yet. Professor Marchbanks had examined him quite thoroughly in Charms, Harry said. He'd done well, he thought, even though he had not quite brought off the Protean Charm as well as he'd hoped – even though Marchbanks had asked him to perform the most difficult version of it, the Transfigurative Conjuration Protean Charm, where a transfiguration of the target object would cause the same effect in another object.
"Professor Tofty asked me to do that one too," Hermione said, putting down her Transfiguration text. "I've been practicing it for the past few days."
Harry smiled, amused. "Of course you have."
A few minutes later the portrait swung open again and Ron entered, looking rather fussed. He flopped down in another chair beside them and moaned, "Who the hell would have expected them to ask us to do the Transfigurative Conjuration Charm?!"
Hermione patted Ron sympathetically on the arm while Harry covered his mouth to avoid laughing out loud.
The rest of that week's N.E.W.T.s proceeded uneventfully, beyond the usual night-before anxiety while studying the next day's subject, especially Thursday night, when Harry and Ron left Hermione to study for her Ancient Runes N.E.W.T. on Friday while they swapped stories with Dean, Seamus, Neville and Jon over bottles of butterbeer left by Dobby under Harry's bed.
"I dunno what Professor Marchbanks seemed more surprised at," Dean said, recalling his practical in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the only N.E.W.T. all of them had taken, earlier that day. "That I produced a full Patronus, or that I was able to use a Shield Charm." Dean's Patronus was a red fox, though of course it was glittering and silvery in appearance.
"She was pretty impressed with my progress," Neville said quietly, but Harry could sense the pride in his voice. "Gran had told her details about the fight at the Ministry of Magic two years ago, and she wanted me to show her some of what I'd done. Did she have you show her your Patronus, Harry?"
"No," Harry said, "Professor Tofty had me do that during O.W.L.s, though."
"Oh, that's right!" Neville said, impressed himself now. "I'm glad we had a chance for you to show us all that stuff in the D.A., it really made a difference for both tests."
Harry felt that most of his N.E.W.T.s had gone well. They had already taken four – Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts. As with O.W.L.s, they would not learn of the results until sometime in July. With only five N.E.W.T. subjects, Harry and Ron both only had one subject left – Potions. Hermione would be taking her Ancient Runes N.E.W.T. on Friday; her Arithmancy N.E.W.T. was scheduled for Thursday of next week, which gave her plenty of time to study after Potions.
Later that evening, however, in bed, Harry began to ponder the loose ends left dangling while they bored through their N.E.W.T.s during the past week. He had hardly had a chance to think about getting back into the Room of Requirement, to have a look at the boxes Ron and Jon had described from the trip to Gringotts that Harry couldn't even remember.
And there was still the problem of whether Voldemort would actually attack Hogwarts. In the past he had found ways to lure Harry elsewhere, once Professor Dumbledore had increased the magical protections on the school to prevent Voldemort from coming here. In spite of that, Draco Malfoy had found a way to bring Death Eaters into the school. Now, however, with the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement destroyed, that entry was denied him.
Friday after breakfast, after seeing Hermione off to her Ancient Runes examination, Harry and Ron retired back to the common room for a day of well-deserved rest and recreation, bringing out Ron's wizard chess set for a game or two rather than studying for Potions, to give their "brains a chance to cool down," as Ron put it. Most of the other Gryffindor seventh- and fifth-years were in the common room as well, studying or talking or in general simply recuperating from the week-long battery of tests. Very few other than Hermione had taken Ancient Runes, so both classes were nearly complete.
By the middle of the second game, however, Ron appeared to have lost interest. His chessmen had become rather petulant, sometimes refusing to take Harry's pieces if it looked like they themselves would be captured the next turn. Soon Ron was down by a knight and a castle, and his queen and bishops were becoming quite alarmed.
"Where's your head today?" One of the bishops scolded him. "Can't you see he's setting up a fork with that knight, to take the queen?"
"Quiet, you!" Harry said, mildly annoyed. "It's taken six years for me to get this good – don't go helping him now!"
"He's right, though," Ron said, looking a bit sheepish. "Once you have my queen, the game's over anyway. I resign."
"About time," the queen said, stiffly. "We were not amused."
"So, what's next?" Harry asked, as they put away the chessboard. "Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"
"Well," Ron said, trying not to sound too uninterested. "Actually, I thought of some studying I ought to get to, before it – er – gets too late."
"Before Hermione gets back, you mean," Harry said, guessing what was on Ron's mind. "You want to check out something in your great-uncle's journal, don't you?"
"Well –"
"I'm not fussed," Harry said with a shrug. "Really. I have some stuff I need to do, too."
"Okay," Ron said, sounding relieved that Harry seemed to understand. "If I don't see you before, we'll meet downstairs for dinner. Okay?"
"Okay." Leaving Ron, Harry left the common room and headed toward the one place he wanted to be right now but couldn't – the Room of Requirement. Before he got to the corridor, however, he heard voices coming from in where door normally appeared – voices he recognized: Malfoy, and Goyle!
Harry stopped, pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his book bag, and threw it over himself. Creeping quietly around the corner, he saw the two Slytherins in front of the tapestry, Malfoy pacing up and down in a towering rage as the door refused to appear.
"What the hell has gone wrong with this room?!" Malfoy was snarling. He pounded the wall where the door normally appeared with his fists. "What's Potter done now?"
For once I wish I knew, Harry thought.
"Maybe he's inside," Goyle suggested, dully eyeing the wall.
"Of course he's not inside, you stupid git," Malfoy snapped. He held up a Galleon. "Why do you think I had Crabbe stay downstairs, in the entrance hall? Everybody's name is still showing solid on the Naming Scroll – he'd show up as gone if he were inside."
Harry had to admit, that was a smart move on Malfoy's part. He was using the Naming Scroll just like Harry used the Marauder's Map.
Malfoy began pacing again. "I wish I knew what happened to that damned house-elf! I'd ask that old bag of bones what was going on!" Harry wondered if by "house-elf" Malfoy meant Dobby, who now lived here, at Hogwarts and worked in the kitchens; Harry hadn't seen him since… well, actually, he hadn't seen Dobby in quite some time, if he didn't count the story Ron and Jon had told, since Harry didn't remember any of it.
"Let's go," Malfoy said suddenly, walking Harry's way. "I've got to go think about this for a bit." Harry retreated around the corner, pushing himself flat against the way. Malfoy walked right by, missing him by less than a foot. Goyle hurried after him. "Potter's going to be sorry I've got to go to this much trouble!" He and Goyle disappeared around a corner; Harry listened to their footsteps fade into the distance.
Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak and walked into the corridor. He tried to imagine what he could do that might actually be useful; there didn't seem to be any way anyone could get inside, if even Malfoy could open the Room of Requirement. Had something happened to it?
And the house-elf Malfoy had mentioned – had he referred to Dobby? Dobby had belonged to the Malfoys, years ago, until Harry helped him win his freedom. But perhaps Dobby still had some connection with Malfoy. "Dobby?" Harry said tentatively into the air.
Crack.
The house-elf appeared wearing an odd assortment of clothes: the maroon jumper Harry last remembered seeing him in, three or four woolen hats, and green and red socks (that is, one was green and one was red, Harry noted). "Harry Potter," Dobby squeaked in his high-pitched voice. "Dobby wondered when you would call him again, yes Dobby did!"
"Hello, Dobby," Harry said. "Um –" Now how should he approach this? Harry didn't remember anything about his last meeting with Dobby other than what Ron and Jon had told him occurred. "How've you been since then?"
Dobby bowed low again, his long nose nearly touching the floor in front of him. "Dobby is honored for you to ask, Harry Potter! I have been awaiting your orders, as you instructed me to."
"Er –" Harry hesitated. "Good. So…what were those orders again, then?"
Dobby blinked his tennis-ball sized eyes, looking downcast. "Does Harry Potter think Dobby has forgotten? Dobby would never forget what Harry Potter has asked him to do!" He looked rather on the verge of crying at the very thought.
"I didn't mean it that way!" Harry said quickly. "I just … wanted … to be … sure we were clear on what they were."
"Dobby is to enter the Come-and-Go Room and get the three boxes placed there by Harry Potter, then return them to him," the house-elf said, as if reciting a lesson. "Harry Potter has but to give Dobby the word."
"And if I wanted you to do it right now?" Harry asked, wishing very much to see what was in those three boxes, and hoping his speculations were correct.
"Then Dobby would do it now," he said simply.
"Then the word is given, Dobby!" Harry said, waving at the blank wall.
Dobby looked at the wall, then back at Harry, expectantly.
After several seconds had passed with Dobby doing nothing to enter the Room of Requirement, Harry said, a trifle impatiently, "Well, Dobby?"
"Dobby is waiting for Harry Potter to give him the word," Dobby said, looking at him, his tennis-ball sized eyes blinking anxiously.
"I've just given you the word, Dobby! What's the – oh." Harry suddenly realized what Dobby meant. "You mean, I have to tell you a particular word before you can do it, right?"
"Yes, Harry Potter," Dobby said, looking unhappy. "Dobby cannot enter the Come-and-Go Room until Harry Potter gives him the word to do it!"
Harry cursed silently to himself. Why can't I remember how to get in there?!
Sensing Harry's frustration, Dobby looked anguished himself, then suddenly turned and, before Harry could stop him, ran headfirst into the wall. He bounced, landing on his backside, then stood, shaking his head comically. Before he could run into the wall again, though, Harry grabbed him.
"Please don't do that any more, Dobby!"
"But Dobby must punish himself for not being able to obey Harry Potter," Dobby said woozily, holding his forehead, still trying to run toward the wall.
"That doesn't even make sense," Harry said, shaking his head. "But please don't do it any more, okay?"
"Dobby will try to obey Harry Potter," the house-elf said, and stopped trying to wriggle free of Harry's grasp. Cautiously, Harry let him go. Dobby looked up at him.
"When will Harry Potter give Dobby the word?" Dobby asked.
I wish I knew, Harry thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "I'll let you know, Dobby."
"Dobby will be ready, Harry Potter!" Dobby said eagerly. "Dobby has told everyone he will never fail to obey an order from the famous Harry Potter!"
"Dobby," Harry said, remembering something Malfoy had said earlier. "Have you been talking to Draco Malfoy lately?"
Dobby looked shocked. "Draco Malfoy is a very bad boy! Dobby doesn't want anything to do with him! He –" Dobby looked suddenly toward the wall, and Harry quickly grabbed him before he could run toward it again.
"Okay, okay!" Harry said. "I believe you – you haven't been talking to Malfoy. I just wondered, because I heard him say something about talking to a house-elf –"
Harry's eyes suddenly widened. What had Malfoy said? I'd ask that old bag of bones what was going on. "Dobby," he said quietly. "Do you know if Kreacher ever talked to Malfoy?"
Dobby's eyes widened with horror. "What has Dobby done?" he wailed. "Dobby has been boastful about his friendship with Harry Potter, telling the other house-elves about your exploits outside the castle –"
"What?!" Harry said, shocked. "How d'you know about that?"
"Do not be angry with Dobby, Harry Potter!" Dobby pleaded, actually clutching at Harry's robe in abject terror. "Dobby wanted to know what great things Harry Potter and his friends were doing! All of the house-elves think highly of you! Except for – Kreacher," Dobby finished morosely. "Kreacher would never say anything nice about his master, except that it was nice you didn't order him about, so he did not have to find ways to disobey you."
"That's nice to know," Harry muttered dryly.
"But now Dobby has betrayed Harry Potter to his former master! Oh, shame and ruin upon Dobby!" The house-elf started to dash himself against the wall again, but Harry caught him by the arm, restraining him. "Please, Harry Potter! Dobby deserves to be punished!"
"Rubbish," Harry said forcefully. "You didn't betray me – Kreacher did. You didn't know what he'd do with the things you said about me."
"But –"
"But nothing, Dobby," Harry said flatly. "Just forget it happened. And be ready for when I send you the word to retrieve those boxes." If I can ever figure out what it is, he added to himself.
"Dobby will, Harry Potter! Yes indeed, Dobby will!" Dobby bowed deeply, then disappeared with a loud crack.
Sunday began the final week of N.E.W.T.s, but Harry and Ron's tests were all done except one: Potions, on Monday. Professor Slughorn's class had been unremarkable this year, especially compared to the previous one, in which Harry had unknowingly used the advanced potion-making textbook that had originally been owned by Severus Snape when he attended Hogwarts, decades before. He'd been brilliant last year, impressing Slughorn who, it turned out, had also taught his mother, Lily Evans, when she'd attended Hogwarts the same at the same time as Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Snape and his father, James Potter.
This year had been much harder, partly because he didn't have the book, and partly because Slughorn was no longer so easily impressed with him as before, but Harry had realized that neither situation had been particularly good for him in the long run. Last year, he'd come to expect quick and easy solutions to problems he encountered in Potions class just by opening the book and reading what the Half-Blood Prince (Snape's somewhat fanciful name for himself while at Hogwarts) had done. He'd also seen that luck, which he'd had an abundance of last year due to the Potions book and to the Felix Felicis potion he'd won at the beginning of the school year in his first Potions class, could be fickle. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna had all survived the Death Eaters' invasion of the school last year because he'd left them the rest of his lucky potion, but Bill Weasley had been attacked and mutilated by Fenrir Greyback. Being lucky was one thing; trusting in luck, however, was something Harry no longer felt he could do.
Harry had therefore resolved to prepare for the Potions test as thoroughly as possible. He and Ron had persuaded both Hermione and Jon to help them, although both of them also had the Arithmancy N.E.W.T. on Thursday. "We still have two days to study for Arithmancy," Hermione had said.
The afternoon passed without incident, though it seemed to take forever before dinner time arrived and they could break to eat. Although Hermione and Jon had very different ideas on how Potions should be approached, and neither of them appeared likely to budge on the correctness of their method, they were able to go through the points of advanced potion-making coming to loggerheads with each other.
When they returned after dinner, however, the study session turned into something of a competition between them as Hermione and Jon discussed individual potions and debated the effectiveness of various methods of preparation. Jon had already shown many practical applications of his knowledge in Potions class while Hermione was well-versed in a wide range of different potions. Harry and Ron both sat, listening in fascinated silence, while the two debated their viewpoints. It was certainly more interesting than studying, even if most of the questions they put to each other were unlikely to be on the Potions examination.
"Potions always comes down to the correct formulation," Hermione insisted, trying to cap the disagreement they'd been contending with over ingredients versus preparation.
"I agree, I'm not disputing that, Hermione," Jon argued. "I'm only saying that some ingredients call for alternate methods of preparation in certain circumstances."
"Such as?" she challenged.
"The most obvious example is whether to cut or crush sopophorous beans when adding them to a potion," Jon replied. "Crushing is useful when you want a quick infusion, but cutting may be called for when the potion requires a longer stewing period."
Harry glanced over to where Ron had been sitting, to comment on his own experience with sopophorous beans, only to discover that he was gone. "Where'd Ron go?" he asked aloud.
Hermione turned, startled. "He was there a few minutes ago," she said uncertainly.
"He left a few minutes ago with a scrap of parchment in his hand," Jon said. "I don't think he wanted to disturb the conversation we were having."
They were still wondering where he'd gotten off to a few minutes later when Ron reappeared through the portrait-hole, taking his seat at the table and resuming studying as if he'd never been gone. Harry, Hermione and Jon were all staring at him, however, and after a few seconds he looked up at them. "What?" he asked, his eyes wide.
"Ron, where were you just now?" Hermione asked at once.
"Just stepped out for a minute," Ron said, trying to affect a casual tone though it was obvious to Harry he was extremely nervous about something. "You were all busy having your little debate, I didn't even think you'd notice I was gone."
"But where did you go?" Hermione persisted.
"Just out," Ron said again, a little rougher this time. "Don't worry, I didn't go have a drink with Romilda Vane or anything."
At the mention of Romilda Vane Hermione's face went stony. "Fine," she said, picking up her books and throwing them into her book bag. "Have your little secret, if you want. I'll finish studying on my own. Talk to you later Harry, Jon." And she stalked off out of the common room.
Harry sighed in exasperation. He'd finally learned to recognize that, when Ron didn't want to tell Hermione something, he'd pick a fight with her so she'd leave him alone for a while. "So where were you?" he asked, wondering if Ron would confide in him while Jon was present.
But Ron had nothing to say to Harry, either. "Blimey, can't I even leave the room for a minute without everybody wondering what mysterious stuff I've been up to?" he snorted, rising as well and throwing his books in his own bookbag. "I need to take a break anyway. I'll talk to you later, Harry. Jon." And Ron was gone as well, up the boys' staircase.
"That was pretty weird," Jon said, looking around after Ron had departed. "I thought those two were getting along pretty well again."
"It varies," Harry said flatly. "I can't believe Ron didn't want to tell me where he'd been."
"The Owlery," Jon said. "I caught a whiff of owl droppings when he came back in the room." That was strange, Harry thought; Ron had sat right next to him when he returned, but Harry hadn't smelled anything like that.
"Who could he be sending a letter to?" Harry wondered aloud.
Jon shrugged. "A more important question might be, why wouldn't he tell you or Hermione?"
Harry remained silent. It felt like Jon was being critical of Ron in some way, but Harry couldn't deny the point he'd made. He began putting his books back into his book bag.
"Not much point in continuing to study," he said to Jon. "I don't feel like I could cram another fact about Potions into my head if I tried, anyway." Harry went up to his dormitory, where he found Ron pretending to be asleep.
Fine with me, Harry thought to himself as he silently prepared for bed. He really was tired enough not to care whether Ron wanted to talk to him tonight or not. Sooner or later, he knew, Ron was come round. Sliding into bed, Harry fell almost immediately asleep.
The following morning, Monday, Harry and Ron both avoided each other's gaze as they prepared for their final day of N.E.W.T.s. Making their way back to the Great Hall, they found Hermione sitting across from Dean, Seamus, and Jon as all of them discussed the upcoming examination. "Hey, Harry, Ron. Ready for Potions this morning?"
"Well, ready or not, it's here," Ron mumbled as he and Harry sat down on either side of Hermione and began eating breakfast.
"So, what do you reckon, Harry?" Seamus asked him.
"About what?" Harry asked, digging into the scrambled eggs he'd just piled onto his plate.
"What potion we'll get in practical," Dean elaborated before Seamus could answer.
"I thought Professor Marchbanks would probably assign Veritaserum," Hermione said, turning to Harry. "It can be brewed in less than two hours if the proper ingredients are available. It's also a bit tricky to do, which makes it a good N.E.W.T. practical."
"I thought it would be cool if we did Amortentia," Dean said with a grin.
"And I think they'll assign the Euphoria Elixer," Seamus said. "So we won't be tempted to nick any of it for ourselves."
"Oh, I dunno," Harry said, half to himself. "I could use a bit of euphoria right now."
"Whadjda say, Harry?" Ron asked through a mouthful of oatmeal.
"Nothing."
After breakfast everyone vacated the Great Hall so it could be prepared for fifth-year O.W.L.s, who then marched back in, the double doors closing behind them. Sometime later, Professor Slughorn, looking rather disheveled, as if he had dressed quickly and carelessly, appeared at the north door of the entrance hall and beckoned them into classroom 7, where they'd sat for their other examinations.
"Everyone find a seat, please," Slughorn said, setting his briefcase heavily down on the teacher's desk at the front of the room. As before, the room was filled with tables for one; upon each one sat an examination test and answer sheet. "I trust you've heard enough about Anti-Cheating spells and the use of proscribed quills, Remembralls, and the like, to be well acquainted with that speech, so I shan't bore you with it again. Remember that it is still in effect."
Malfoy slouched into the room at the last moment, his face a mask of cheerful deference to Slughorn, who nodded curtly. "Step lively, Mr. Malfoy, step lively. We don't want you missing any of your allotted time from the examination period."
"He'll need it," a voice near the back said, and the classroom chuckled, including Harry, who thought the voice sounded like Dean's.
Slughorn didn't smile although he made no effort to chastise whoever had made the remark. Casting a venomous glance Dean's way, Malfoy then turned and looked toward Harry, sneering. "Good luck, Potter," he said, then turned back to the front of the class. "Ready, Professor," he said, all cheerful innocence once again.
Harry frowned. It was unlike Malfoy to say something like that to him, without some ulterior motive.
"Alright, then," Slughorn said, and removed his wand from his cloak. "Begin." He flicked it at the hourglass, which immediately turned over, starting the sands flowing into the bottom. "You have two hours."
Everyone immediately began writing on their answer sheets. Harry was staring at the first question, Name the ingredients used in the Aging Potion, and the recommended simmering time for a potion that will age the imbiber one year, when there was a cough across the room. Looking over, he saw Malfoy coughing into his fist. It brought to mind, quite unexpectedly, the image of Dolores Umbridge clearing her throat ("hem, hem") to deliberately attract attention. Malfoy stopped coughing and Harry resumed his examination, writing down the ingredients and calculating the simmering time based on the formula of one hour per month of aging.
The second question, Which of the following is not an ingredient for any love potion? (a) frozen Ashwinder eggs, (b) rosemary (c) asphodel, was easy enough, and Harry marked off (c), knowing asphodel was more closely associated with death than with infatuation or obsession.
Malfoy suddenly coughed again, more softly this time, and Harry's eyes flicked automatically toward him in annoyance. No one else had glanced his way, and Harry had begun to glance away when he saw Malfoy tip his head back slightly, then rubbed his fist across his lips, as if wiping them clean. His fist slipped down and into his robe pocket, then came out unfolded a moment later.
Very suspicious behavior, Harry thought, but knowing Malfoy, he was probably baiting Harry into making a scene about it. The Anti-Cheating spells would have caught him by now if he were up to something. Malfoy, a small smile now on his lips, had begun writing on his own answer sheet. With a small shrug, Harry resumed his as well.
Two hours later, as the last sands of the hourglass dropped into the bottom bulb, Professor Slughorn intoned, "Everyone, quills down. Hand your answer sheets to the front, please."
Once he had collected their answers, Slughorn gave the class a cheerful wave and said, "Everyone have a good lunch. And good luck on your practical!" Everyone headed for the doors.
"How'd you do, d'you think?" Ron asked Harry as they entered the entrance hall.
"Fine, I figure," Harry said. "Not as difficult as I'd expected, except for a few there at the end."
"I thought it was rather a lark," drawled a voice behind them; Harry and Ron turned to see Malfoy smirking at them.
"Sure you did," Ron said scornfully. "More likely, you'll end up with a 'T' for your Potions N.E.W.T.s, Malfoy."
"Oh, I rather doubt if I will," Malfoy replied smugly. "You, on the other hand, should be so lucky."
Ron made a sound of disgust. "Come on, Harry," he said, turning away. "Just ignore him.
But before Harry could follow suit, Malfoy reached into his pocket and retrieved a small object, then tossed it to Harry, who caught it automatically. "Hope your luck was as good as mine during the examination, Potter," he said, laughing, then turned and walked away.
Glaring after Malfoy until he disappeared into the Great Hall, Harry turned his attention to the small glass phial. It was rather small and thin, and would easily fit into the palm of his hand. Or into an enclosing fist, Harry suddenly realized. He hurried to catch up with Ron and Hermione, who had gone ahead into the Great Hall as well.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry showed the phial to them and Jon, who was sitting with them, saying, "I think Malfoy drank something from this just as we started taking the Potions examination."
"He couldn't have," Hermione objected. "The Anti-Cheating spells would have stopped him."
"I watched him palm something," Harry insisted. "It looked like he was drinking, then he put his hand into his pocket afterwards. He tossed this to me after the examination, like he was taunting me."
"Maybe that's what he is doing," Hermione suggested. "Pretending like he drank something to make you suspicious. If he'd really tried to drink a potion, he would have been caught. Every teacher sets up spells to prevent cheating during the examination of their subject."
"Is it possible Slughorn didn't?" Harry hypothesized. "He didn't seem very alert this morning."
"It's true, he didn't look very happy to be there," Hermione conceded. "But it would be easy to go back and check the room."
"Or ask Slughorn," Ron added.
"I don't think Slughorn will 'fess up to not putting the proper spells on the classroom, Ron," Harry said dryly.
"I know the spells are there," Hermione said, "because I checked before we started."
"You checked?" Jon said, smiling. "That's very honest of you, Hermione."
"Well, I am a prefect, after all," Hermione said diffidently. "I'm not supposed to let anyone cheat."
"Let's check the bottle, then," Jon said, holding out his hand. Harry passed him the phial and Jon made several passes over it with his wand. "Nothing," he said after each pass. "Nothing. Nothing. Nothing."
"That's a whole lot of nothing," Ron said sourly.
"But a strange kind of nothing," Jon said, now looking closely at the phial. "Either this bottle has never been used to store any magical potion, or there is some kind of countercharm keeping me from detecting any residue of whatever's been in it."
Lunch arrived and everyone began getting something to eat. Harry, however, sat looking at the bottle until Hermione finally put some steak and kidney pie on his plate along with some buttered bread and a cold glass of pumpkin juice, saying, "Harry, you need to concentrate on taking your Potions practical – Malfoy's little game can wait a few hours!"
Harry picked at his pie, knowing she was right but still wishing he could figure out what Malfoy had done. Or maybe Malfoy was just messing with him, like Hermione had suggested. Either way, Harry didn't much care for it.
After lunch, the seventh-years gathered once again in the entrance hall to wait for the Wizarding Examination Authority people to take them to their practical. Professor Marchbanks, the woman who had tested them for their O.W.L. practical in Potions appeared and led them down the doorway to the left of the entrance hall's main staircase to dungeon five. There they found a cauldron, a set of scales and other equipment set up for each of them.
"You'll find your assigned potion in the folder with each cauldron," Professor Marchbanks said, rather loudly. "I think you'll find it an interesting one to brew. The ingredients you'll need are in the storage cabinets to your left. And I should warn you, we had a rather new wizard labeling them – you may find that some of the labels are incorrect."
With a wave of her wand the hourglass on the teacher's desk spun end-for-end. "You may begin."
Opening his folder, Harry found a piece of parchment with the directions for preparing Veritaserum. He glanced over at Hermione, who was looking at her piece of parchment with a satisfied smile.
The uncertainty of the ingredients made for an interesting practical, since each one had to be verified visually or by smell. At the end of two hours, however, Harry's cauldron was bubbling with a clear, odorless liquid with the correct consistency for properly-made Veritaserum.
"Step away from your cauldrons, please," Professor Marchbanks said at the end of two hours. "The examination is over." Harry handed in his sample flask and joined the other seventh-years in the corridor leading back to the entrance hall.
"Well, you were right," Ron said to Hermione as they reached the top of the staircase. "The practical was for Veritaserum."
"Now aren't you glad we went over it a dozen times this weekend, Ron?"
"Not really – I mean, thanks, Hermione."
Back in the common room, Harry and Ron both flopped, relieved, into a pair of comfortable loungers. "Well, that's that," Ron said. "Now it's all over except for the end-of-year feast."
"Not completely over," Hermione sniffed. "Some of us still have a few N.E.W.T.s left to take."
"Just Arithmancy, right?" Harry asked, baiting her a bit.
"Right," Hermione conceded, "but it's –"
"The most difficult subject –" Harry interjected.
"The world has ever seen!" Ron finished dramatically.
Hermione stared balefully at them. "Right. See if I ever help either of you with school work again!"
"That would be a much worse threat," Ron pointed out. "If we had any more school work."
"With anything then," she said crossly, and with a petulant toss of her hair Hermione spun and stalked away from them up the girl's staircase. Neither Ron nor Harry regarded her threat as anything more than a consequence of the foul mood she normally got in while tests were going on.
There was something Harry wanted to check out alone, so he excused himself, saying he would return shortly, and left the common room. Before traveling very far, however, he availed himself of a deserted corridor to activate the Marauder's Map to find out where Professor Slughorn was currently located. It was possible that he could be in another Potion class, as the other years were not excused from their classes during O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, or even in his own personal residence within the castle, but there was a figure labeled "Horace Slughorn" shown seated in his office when Harry asked where he was. Deactivating the Map, he set out for Slughorn's office.
Arriving, he knocked on the door and after several seconds, Slughorn's voice replied, "Come in, Harry m'boy." Harry entered and found the Potions Master seated behind his desk, just as the Marauder's Map had placed him. Slughorn took the pipe he'd been absently smoking out of his mouth and gestured to a chair with it. "Have a seat. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Slughorn looked cheerful and was doing his best to be charming, but Harry sensed an underlying nervousness.
"Professor, I would like to ask a question about the procedure for our N.E.W.T. examination today," Harry began.
"Of course, m'boy, of course," Slughorn said, still being quite pleasant. "You know, however, that I cannot give out any advance information on your grade," he added mildly.
"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. "It's not about that, though. I wanted to ask about – about the Anti-Cheating spells placed on the examination classroom before the test is given." He watched Slughorn carefully for his reaction.
Slughorn smiled genially. "Many students are interested in them, although perhaps not all for the same reasons. They're a standard set of spells placed on the room to prevent unauthorized Summoning Charms or Portkey use, and to detect the use of enchanted quills, ink or other devices such as Remembralls or potions like Felix Felicis. Nothing especially unusual – they're listed in the standard teacher's guidelines issued by the Ministry of Magic."
"So if a student in your class had taken Felix Felicis," Harry said, presenting his question as a hypothetical situation, "You would know that he had taken it."
"Precisely," Slughorn said, puffing gently on his pipe. "The enchantment informs the leader of the class that something – or someone – is amiss."
"Is it possible to miss it?" Harry asked, trying to cover every angle he could think of.
Slughorn chuckled. "Possible, of course – but the teacher would have to be asleep or unconscious to do so!"
"What about very tired, or distracted?" Harry prompted.
The Potions professor gave Harry a shrewd look. "Harry, m'boy, are you trying to suggest that someone was cheating in my class this morning and that I missed the warning signs?" he asked, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands across his ample stomach.
"Ma – someone gave me a small potion bottle after class," Harry replied, deciding not to reveal who it was just yet. "The bottle was empty, but I got the impression that it hadn't been when the examination began."
"Hmm, well – nevertheless, Harry, the spells were in place and functioning perfectly," Slughorn said firmly; his tone was perhaps a bit colder than normal. "In fact, I'm quite sure they were, as a more able man than I put them in place!"
"What – what do you mean, sir?" Harry asked, not comprehending.
"When I arrived in the examination room Monday morning," Slughorn said, "I was, as you may have noticed, a bit under the weather." Slughorn cleared his throat and checked his pipe; it had gone out, and he busied himself with repacking it for several seconds.
"A cold, sir?" Harry ventured to ask into the silence.
"A spot of brandy," Slughorn admitted. "Perhaps rather more than a spot, actually. I'm getting old, Harry," Slughorn said ruefully. "Such things affect me more than they used to. However, Sibyll's company was delightful, and she does appreciate the fine taste of good brandy."
"So you were up late drinking brandy with Professor Trelawney," Harry said. He didn't bother to add that Professor Trelawney usually imbibed cooking sherry when drinking alone; if Slughorn wanted to share fine brandy with her it was entirely his own business. "What does that have to do with the Anti-Cheating Spells?"
"Much, Harry." Slughorn no longer sounded quite so genial. "I arrived in the room feeling rather the worse for wear, knowing I would have to concentrate quite deeply in order to properly effect the spells, when to my surprise and relief I found them already in place!"
"Already in place?" Harry repeated. "How could that be?"
"Exactly what I asked myself, m'boy!" Slughorn gestured dramatically. "It took me several seconds to piece together what had happened."
"And that was…?"
"That Professor Snape, who had held the Defense Against the Dark Arts examination last week, had forgotten to remove the enchantments afterward," Slughorn continued. "I found them in place, as strong as ever, and saw no reason to cancel them just to place my own enchantments there, when his would do quite as well!"
"But wait a minute," Harry said, remembering something. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts examination was on Thursday. There was an Ancient Runes examination held on Friday – Hermione Granger took that examination – so why were Snape's enchantments still in place on Monday?"
"Ah, astute of you to notice that, m'boy!" Slughorn nodded, impressed. "I did bring that to Professor Snape's attention this morning after the examination – he pointed out that the Ancient Runes examination was held in classroom 11, as the small number of students taking that N.E.W.T. was a much better fit."
"I see," Harry said slowly. "So Professor Snape set up the Anti-Cheating spells that were used for both the Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions N.E.W.T. examinations this year?" He remembered the apprehension he'd felt, last week, upon Snape's appearance in the entrance hall Thursday morning to escort them to the classroom for their examination. Beyond a few thinly-veiled snide remarks to him and Neville Longbottom beforehand, however, he had remained silent while they sat the test.
"Correct, m'boy," Slughorn said, beaming. "So you may be sure they were excellently done, Harry. Have I answered all your questions, now?"
"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. He didn't add that he'd brought up a few more, but he would get no answers for them from Slughorn. "Thanks for your time."
Slughorn nodded, dismissing Harry, who quickly made his way back to the common room, with a detour to the Owlery to check if either Hedwig or Pigwidgeon had returned. Neither of them had, however, and Harry began to wonder if they should perhaps find an alternate way to contact Ron's brother before it was too late for Ron to compete this Saturday. Assuming, of course, they would even be allowed to go to Diagon Alley.
Of course, in a way that was not a problem. All their N.E.W.T.s would be completed and the results in the hands of the Wizarding Examination Authority by then; Snape couldn't stop them from doing whatever they wanted. Unless, of course, he expelled them for disobedience, the little voice in his head reminded him, unbidden.
Harry pondered the mystery with Malfoy again. If Malfoy had taken Felix Felicis, the Anti-Cheating spells would have let Slughorn know. From what Slughorn had said, he would have been hard-pressed to miss the signs, even from spells cast by another teacher like Snape. So if Malfoy had taken Felix Felicis, yet hadn't been caught cheating, one of two things must have occurred: either Slughorn simply hadn't acknowledged he felt the signs from the Anti-Cheating spells, and so was covering up Malfoy's cheating, or Snape had done something to the Anti-Cheating spells to allow Malfoy to get around them! Harry was pretty certain which alternative he felt was more likely.
Later in the evening, Harry discussed his ideas with Hermione and Ron, who were both understandably upset, although for different reasons.
"Just think, Harry, if we could've taken Felix Felicis during some of our examinations!" Ron said wistfully. "We could have straight O's on our N.E.W.T.s!"
"You know that's not the point, Ron!" Hermione said, scandalized by his remark, however jokingly he'd made it. "Either way, a teacher helping a student cheat is a very bad thing! It undermines all of the hard work and effort of all the other students!"
"Right, then," Ron said, knowing better than to continue making light of the situation. "So what can we do about it?"
"I don't know," Harry said, frustrated. "Snape's probably removed the enchantment by now." Hermione had already confirmed that her Ancient Runes examination took place in classroom 11 rather than 7. "I can't even really prove that Malfoy ever had this," he said, holding up the phial the Slytherin had tossed him. "Ron didn't see him toss it to me. And I know neither Slughorn nor Snape will admit they did anything dodgy."
Overall it was a rather frustrating evening for Harry. With no way to determine Malfoy's guilt, or even of satisfying their curiosity about what he'd done short of asking him directly (and expecting an honest answer, a laughable idea in itself), they had to content themselves that evening with abusing Malfoy, Snape, and the unfairness of authority in general. Finally, well after midnight, after Harry had spent a few hours watching Hermione study for Arithmancy, they all headed up to their dormitories, hoping for better luck the next day.
At breakfast the next morning, with only several minutes before the morning examinations were to begin (for Care of Magical Animals) Professor McGonagall stood, holding a letter in her hand.
"I have an announcement," she said without preamble. "I received a letter this morning from Gringotts Bank –"
Ron's head jerked up from the cereal he was having.
"— they've requested that I sign a waiver to allow a Hogwarts student to attempt to open the Vault that has been sitting in front of the bank these past several months.
"Naturally, I was initially quite surprised to learn that a student at this school planned to make such an attempt," McGonagall went on, her square glasses flashing. "But after a moment's reflection, I realized that, what with trolls, basilisks and even Death Eaters roaming the grounds and halls in the past several years, as well as holding the Tri-Wizard Championship here, that having a student apply to open a mysterious vault that's been held deep under London for the past 30 years isn't really a very unusual occurrence."
There was scattered laughter across the room. Notably absent, however, was anything remotely resembling gaiety from the Slytherin table.
"So don't tell us, Professor," a familiar voice drawled. "Let me guess: Harry Potter is going to try to open the Mystery Vault!"
Professor McGonagall looked toward the speaker. "No, Mr. Malfoy, that is incorrect, although I cannot fault you for coming to that conclusion.
"No," she continued, looking back toward the Gryffindor table. "The student who will attempt to open the Vault is Mr. Ronald Weasley!"
There was a collective gasp around the Hall, not the least of which came from the Gryffindor table. Ron, who had been looking toward McGonagall with a blush of embarrassment on his face, now looked around him, indignant. "It's not that bleedin' unbelievable, is it?"
"Language, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall warned, though her tone was mild. She held up a letter in her hand. "I also received a letter from your brother, Bill, who wanted to make sure there would be no unforeseen complications from your making such an attempt. I'd like to read his letter to the school." Ron gulped, but nodded and seated himself as McGonagall unfolded the letter and began to read:
Dear Professor McGonagall,
As you know, Gringotts Wizarding Bank has hosted a Vault Tournament since September to allow witches and wizards the opportunity to try and open the so-called "Mystery Vault" currently on display in front of the bank.
We have had numerous entrants over the past months, and frankly, my superiors are surprised that it has not been opened yet, despite some very ingenious attempts by extremely competent wizards and witches.
Let me therefore say straight off that I am surprised, pleased, and a bit alarmed to have one of your students, my brother Ron Weasley, apply to be in the Vault Tournament competition. I knew he had some interest in it but was not prepared for the idea that he would actually enter the contest. Our parents were quite shocked as well. I was at their home, the Burrow, when I read his application.
Initially, I was unsure whether Ron would be allowed to compete because of my role in the Tournament. The answer was, surprisingly, yes. I thought Gringotts might feel there was a conflict of interest, seeing as I work for them as a Cursebreaker and that I'm in their employ to do exactly what Vault competitors are trying to do. However, they have given their consent.
Next, anticipating the logistical and disciplinary problems of students traveling to Diagon Alley this Saturday, I wanted to seek your permission to relax the restrictions on leaving school grounds for this weekend. I hope you will agree that such an occasion will be a singular event in school history, no matter what the outcome is, and that you will allow many, if not all, students to attend.
I have enclosed a Vault Competition token and Ron's receipt for the 50 Galleons entry fee. I look forward to seeing all interested students (and teachers!) this Saturday, and to seeing Ron in action. If he does open it, I may consider quitting Cursebreaking and taking up Quidditch. Just kidding.
Warmest Regards,
Bill Weasley
Ron's face, as McGonagall finished reading the letter, held an expression of absolute horror. "I'll kill him," he moaned softly. "What the hell was he thinking, getting the whole school involved?"
But other students were crowding around Ron, pounding him on the back and cheering excitedly.
"All right, Ron!" Dean Thomas, who'd been listening in, further down the Gryffindor table, whooped.
Before everyone became too loud, however, McGonagall held up her hand for silence. Everyone quieted and turned attentively to listen, even the Slytherins.
"As part of the school's recognition of Mr. Weasley for this auspicious event, I am allowing all seventh-years who have completed their N.E.W.T. examinations and who have no further obligations," she stared piercingly toward a few students at the Slytherin table, "to return home one week early."
There was a crescendo of applause from the seventh-years at the four House tables, and a few yell of "Ron Weasley!" making Ron smile, somewhat abashedly, at those around him while Harry and Dean pounded him on the back.
McGonagall called for quiet again and continued. "As for the other years, I have arranged with the teachers that all students whose schoolwork is caught up to the end of this week may also return home –" There was thunderous applause and cheers that drowned out the rest of her statement. Many students had gotten to their feet and were chanting "Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!"
Ron was looking around at the cheering students, his reaction a mixture of shocked disbelief and smugness. Ernie Macmillan leaned toward Ron from the Hufflepuff table and shouted, "Great idea, Ron! Do you really think you'll open it?" Ron, who couldn't hear what he'd said, just threw up his hands.
The only group that wasn't completely happy at McGonagall's announcement (other than some particularly bookish Ravenclaws) were the Slytherins, particularly Malfoy and a few of his friends like Zabini, Nott and of course, Crabbe and Goyle. It was a bit puzzling, Harry thought, though. The Slytherins stood to gain just as much as anyone from school being dismissed early. So why were they so put off by it?
Not that it mattered now, really, as everyone left the Great Hall so the day's N.E.W.T.s could begin. The Gryffindors all retired to the common room to celebrate. Sometime during the day, Ron confided to Harry that he'd sent the letter to Bill that Sunday, when he'd come back into the common room and Jon had been able to tell where he'd been. It didn't even matter to Harry that Ron had kept the news from him.
Nor did it matter to Hermione, as it turned out. She and Ron were settled cozily in an extra-large chair together, talking quietly amid the boisterous goings-on all around them between interruptions from grateful or excited Gryffindors thanking Ron for getting them out of school early. A few latecomers, however, had told of hearing Malfoy and other Slytherins ridiculing him as a braggart and showoff, which he shrugged off. For tonight, at least, Harry thought, Ron was the one at the center of attention, not him.