A/N: Written for the QLFC Round 13 - Real Randomness. Team: Montrose Magpies.

SEEKER reserve. Prompt chosen: Evan Rosier doing Owls

Unbeta'd

Help with the OWL

Evan wasn't that worried about his O.W.L.s. He knew he had it in him, being near the top of his fifth year Slytherin class. He had to be, to live up to the reputation of his father and his mentor, Lord Voldemort.

An Acceptable or higher in all subjects, or he didn't even have to worry about his next school year: his father had told him in no unclear words that if Evan failed any of his subjects, he would be pulled from school to get some hands-on training from Lord Voldemort himself.

Given how often the summer trainings had ended with Evan bleeding or unconscious, he was not exactly looking forward to that.
'Focus, Evan, focus,' he reminded himself. Just two more hours before the OWL he was least certain about, Transfiguration. Professor Dumbledore and Evan did not exactly get along, his teacher made no secret of his dislike for Slytherins. The Common Room was full of stories of how Dumbledore would deduct points for even the slightest thing, just sneering at a hopeless Hufflepuff—as if there was any other kind!—would be enough to cost you ten House Points if Professor Dumbledore caught you doing so. And Headmaster Dippet went along with all of this. One more reason everyone was worried about Dippet's retirement, Dumbledore was most likely to take over, and that promised little good for anyone in the house of silver and green.

"You about ready, Ev?" Morty Wilkes, Evan's best friend, asked him.
"I guess. Just hope it won't be something living to metal, you know I don't have that down."
"Ah, don't worry. They won't pick that, most metal to living is N.E.W.T. stuff. And if it gets down to it, maybe you can fake it, you know? Aim for wood with a metallic sheen."
Evan scoffed. "Morty, you're an idiot. Dumbledore would see right through that!"
"But Dumbledore won't be there, Ev. Did you forget? You'll be examined by one of those old dodgers from the Ministry, and we all know how useless they are."
Evan grinned. "You're right, I did forget… okay. Wow. That actually cheered me up some. Guess you're not as useless as I thought, Morty!"
"Screw you too, mate," Morty said, laughing. "On a more serious note, what about after?"
"After the O.W.L.s? Hogsmeade, I guess. Some Butterbeer and maybe Tricia Greengrass will be in for a victory snog…"
"Not that, although Trish is a fine bird, can't blame you for that," Morty commented. "I mean, are you going to train with him again this summer?"
Evan paled a little. "It's, it's not really up to me, is it? You know my father, he would kill me if I said 'no' to the Lord. If he didn't beat him to it, that is."
"Point. Okay… one hour left. Want me to quiz you?"

Evan nibbled on the end of his quill, staring at the parchment in front of him as if that would make the answers to his O.W.L. appear. All of fifth year was in the Great Hall, the House tables shoved off to the side and replaced by a series of desks. Silencing spells had been placed over the students and some of the Professors patrolled the aisles, to make sure no-one was cheating. Unfortunately, in Evan's case, he had hoped he could get some hints from Morty.
The only sound, other than the light murmur of a hushed conversation between Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore at the High Table, was the occasional opening of the doors, when a new student would be called forth for his practical. They were going by alphabetical order so Evan knew it would take some time before they got to him, hopefully all the time he needed to at least get through this infuriating questions.
'In solid to liquid transfigurations, should the wand movement usually include an upward, or a downward swing? Explain and give examples.'

How exactly was he supposed to know that? Evan scrunched his face in trying to remember the various solid to liquid changes he had been doing over the past five years. Was there even a pattern?
Just as he thought he had the answer, the doors opened and a voice came through: "Rosier, Evans!"
Evan cursed. That derailed his train of thought completely, and he almost had it! Grumbling to himself—unheard by anyone because of the silencing spells—he put his quill down and then walked to the back of the room, feeling the eyes of everyone on him.

Two men were inside the room when Evan entered, one stranger he did not know, and—to his relief—the other was Professor Slughorn, his Head of House.

"Ah, Mr. Rosier. Welcome to your Transfiguration practical," the examinator said as Evan entered. "My name is Mr. Trilby, from the Ministry Department for Education."
"Pleasure," Evan mumbled.
"You'll do fine, lad," Professor Slughorn said, beaming at him. Then, turning to Mr. Trilby, "Evan here is one of my best students. A fine young lad, he will go far, I tell you."
"I am sure of it," Mr. Trilby said. "Well then, Mr. Rosier, can you turn this teacup into a mouse?"
Evan effortlessly cast the spell. Another few simple tests followed, then Mr. Trilby interrupted him.
"I'm sorry to ask, Professor Slughorn, but I forgot my bag near the front door. Could you be so kind as to get it for me?"
"Not a problem at all," the friendly Potions Master said, leaving the room. As soon as he left, Mr. Trilby turned to face Evan again, his expression suddenly different.
"The Dark Lord has high hopes for you, Evan," he said in a deeper voice.
Evan stumbled back. "W—what?"
Mr. Trilby moved his left sleeve up a little, revealing a dark snake tattoo. "We can hardly wait to properly welcome you in our organisation."
As Professor Slughorn returned, apologetic at not finding Mr. Trilby's bag, Evan was still shocked.
"He just cast a perfect water to silver transfiguration, I'm sorry you missed it," Mr. Trilby lied to Slughorn, "an Outstanding in practical, to be sure!"
"Well done, my boy," Professor Slughorn said. "Now, back to the theory, eh?"

As Evan sat back down his mind was swimming. He had his O.W.L. now… but he was also once again indebted to the Dark Lord. His future would be… interesting.