CHAPTER 41

Our first exam, scheduled for Monday morning, is the Theory of Charms. All across Hogwarts, fifth- and seventh-years litter every available sitting space, studying for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, testing their friends. Even around the Slytherin common room books are scattered, fifth-years lying on the sofas and the floors while reading Achievements in Charming. Over by the fire sits Draco, his lips moving silently as he reads over his notes. Pansy has two books open in front of her, Achievements in Charming and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5. She and Crabbe seem to be checking definitions and comparing notes.

I sit with Zoe and Daphne at one of the tables in the corner and turn my attention back to Achievements in Charming. Despite my confidence that Charms will be a class in which I will receive top marks, the idea of siting for an O.W.L. fills me with dread and nerves. I want to do well, but there is no logical reason for me to care about them in the slightest because it's not like failing or passing will change my future either way. Perhaps I've just gotten caught up in the mix of all of it, or perhaps I feel like I have something to prove, as if it matters to me if the professors know that I understand what I'm doing. Whatever the case, when we reach the Great Hall for dinner, my appetite evades me.

The entire hall feels rather subdued tonight, as if all the students preparing for exams are unwell and sucking all the life out of the room, feeding on each other's nerves. Merlin, is it like this every year at this time? Are the other students feeling sympathy or are they worried about their normal exams?

At Zoe's recommendation, I force myself to eat something. Apparently, according to her at least, a full stomach makes focusing on studying easier. I have my doubts but choose to trust her because she's gone through these already. "There they are," Zoe leans over and says to me and Daphne. "The examiners."

I whip my head toward the doors of the Great Hall where a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards stand with Umbridge, who actually looks quite nervous, which brings me a strange amount of joy. I'm glad she's unsettled by all of this. What would happen if we all collectively decided to fail our O.W.L.s? Would she be sacked?

"What're they like?" Daphne asks.

"Not as dreadful as they seem, actually. Kind of nice in an imposing way."

"What does that even mean?" I say. She just shrugs, choosing not to elaborate further on her unhelpful description of those people.

The rest of the evening is increasingly uncomfortable, almost all of the Slytherin fifth- and seventh-years trying to squeeze in a bit of last minute studying without making much progress at all. And eventually, we all give up and retire for the night.

I find it easier to fall asleep that night than it should be.

Breakfast that next morning is just as uneventful as dinner at had been last night. None of the fifth-years around me speak. Draco sits with a book in his lap, reading quietly while Crabbe and Goyle practice incantations next to him. I sit silently, eating, pretending that I'm actually not as nervous about these exams as I really am. Daphne reads from her notes quietly. This goes on until breakfast is over, after which the fifth- and seventh-years wait around in the entrance hall for the exams to finally be set up while the rest of the students wander off to class. I find myself envying the students who are simply going on as if today is no different than any other.

Astoria and Grant whisper encouragements to Zoe, Daphne, and me before they disappear with the rest of the students. Zoe takes a deep breath and says to me and Daphne, "We're fine."

This actually makes me feel better, though I don't tell her that.

When the doors to the Great Hall open once more, at half-past nine, each class is called forward one by one. The House tables have been replaced by smaller tables, all in rows, all facing toward the staff-table where McGonagall stands looking over us. Once we're all seated and quiet, McGonagall says, "You may begin," and turns over an enormous hourglass on the desk beside her, which also houses a host of spare quills, ink, and rolls of parchment.

I turn over my paper, prepared for the worst, and find myself smiling at the first question: a) Give the incantation, and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly . . .

The memory of trying to fly into the air in the Slytherin Dungeons before Snape caught me comes to mind, and I begin writing.

I walk over to the Golden Trio two hours later in the entrance hall. "How'd you think it went?" I ask them.

"Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?" Hermione asked anxiously. I silently agree with her; that exam was not nearly as bad as I was worried it would be. "I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time—did you put in the countercharm for hiccups? I wasn't sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much—and on question twenty-three—"

"Hermione," Ron cuts in sternly, "we've been through this before . . . We're not going through every exam afterward, it's bad enough doing them once."

Her face turns a slight pink, and she stops talking about the exam. When I start to feel uncomfortable with the silence, I give them a small nod and wander away.

Daphne comes up behind me and shoves my arm. "I should've studied harder," she says, dropping her forehead onto my shoulder for a moment.

I smile at her when she comes around me and leans against the wall in front of me.

A short while later, the fifth-years eat lunch with the rest of the students in the Great Hall, which is now back to its normal self, the four House tables replacing the smaller tables used for the exams, but this meal is just as quiet and subdued as the past two meals have been, and afterward, the fifth-years mull around in the entrance hall again as we wait for our practical examination. This is miserable. I want these to be over already.

"How do you think you'll do on this part of the exam?" Daphne asks me while we stand around.

"I'm confident only in this and Transfiguration, so I think I'll be fine."

She huffs quietly. "I really wish you would just suffer with me."

"Oh, well, in that case, I'm horrified to take this exam, just let me tell you."

"It doesn't mean as much when I know you're lying."

I grin at her but don't say anything else.

As small groups are called forward in alphabetical order, Daphne is, regrettably, called long before I am. Those of us who are left behind sit around muttering incantations and practicing wand movements.

Ten minutes later, Harry is called back, and Ron offers him a quiet, "Good luck," before he enters the Great Hall.

Only when Harry has disappeared for the next part of his exam do I turn to Ron and ask, "Have you got any word from Fred?"

"With the new headmistress? Not a chance. You?"

"Unfortunately, no." I was hoping that at least his brother had heard something from him. "Do you think the shop's going well?"

"Fred and George perfected almost everything before they left."

"Like the Portable Swamp?"

Ron smiles. "Exactly. You were gone when they escaped."

I sigh. "Yeah. I was called away for the Easter holiday."

"'Called away.' Sounds important."

"It was. But if I could go back, I'd skip it just to have had the privilege of seeing Umbridge's face when Fred and George got away. Draco refuses to talk about it—I think he's ashamed the Inquisitorial Squad couldn't stop them."

"Stupid squad didn't stand a chance against Fred and George."

Our conversation dies when I'm called back. "Professor Marchbanks is free, Rodgers," Flitwick, who is standing just inside the door, squeaks.

I go to the professor he had motioned to. "Rodgers, is it?" she asks.

"Yes, Professor."

"That's good, no need to be nervous," she says encouragingly. "Now, if I could ask you to take this eggcup and make it do some cartwheels for me . . ."

On the whole, I believe this particular exam went really well. My Levitation Charm was better than it had been back in August, probably because I was not trying to lift myself in a chair but rather a small wine glass, which proved to be much easier. The Color-Change Charm took a bit more time than it was supposed to, but as I still managed to turn my rat orange, it should surely be fine. I have my years on the run to thank for the "Exceeds Expectations" I should get on this exam.

There is still no time to relax tonight after dinner. Though the Charms examination is completely over, our Transfiguration exam is tomorrow, and all of the fifth-years are sprawled out in the common room, books spread before them, reading over complex spell models and theories. "How'd your first exam go?" Astoria asks Zoe, Daphne, and me. Again, she is testing her sister at our table.

"I passed, that's about all I know," Daphne sighs, flipping through her Transfiguration notes to find something.

"I did pretty well, I guess, but other than Charms and Transfiguration, I don't think I'll be receiving good marks," I say.

Zoe slams her book shut and rams it against the table. "I hate this! They don't call them Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for nothing! I hate this so much. Take this book away from me, I never want to see it again!" She slides the Potions book over to Astoria and puts her head down on the table. "Can someone beat me over the head so I end up in the hospital wing and can avoid the rest of these bloody exams? I'm so tired, but I can't sleep."

I place my hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "It's been one day, Zoe."

She groans at me with her mouth closed, then stops suddenly, lifts her head off the table, and says, "I can't study anymore. I'm going to bed. Nobody even attempt to disturb me until the morning. Goodnight." Then she gets up and leaves, and I can't help but smile as she departs from the room.

Daphne slides her Transfiguration book over at me. "I need your help. Professor Rodgers, is it? That's what Draco used to call you? I heard it once or twice."

"I hated it. Please don't call me that," I say, picking up the book.

"All right. But Astoria—no offense—doesn't know the practicality of Transfiguration like I need to know, and I need you to help me."

I frown at her. "How can I say no to such flattery?"

"Good. You're the only person I feel like I can go to for help in this particular subject because the rest of our year"—she gazes pointedly at Crabbe and Goyle who are struggling with simple spells, Draco who is savagely studying from his books, Pansy who sits twitching in her seat, Zabini who sits with his eyes shut, Theodore Nott who looks oddly relaxed with his book in his lap, and Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode who sit in the corner testing one another—"don't seem as confident in this subject as you do."

"Don't try to butter me up. Some of them look pretty fine with what they're doing."

"I'll give you another Chocolate Frog," she says, lifting her eyebrows.

I grin at the hopeful look on her face. "Sold. What do you need help with?"

"I'm still struggling with the Vanishing Spell."

"Show me what you're doing."

"What should I vanish?"

"I don't know. Anything."

Daphne looks up and down the table. "We'll have to Vanish small animals like in class, Charlotte. I can't just Vanish 'anything' and expect that to help me in the exam."

"Don't take that tone with me."

"My apologies."

I clear my throat and cast the Bird-Conjuring Spell to Conjure one yellow bird. I summon it to me and, holding it by its legs, hand it over to Daphne. "Try to vanish that."

"When . . . when did you learn that?"

"It doesn't matter."

She narrows her eyes at me. "You're full of surprises, Charlotte, do you know that?"

I suddenly become very aware of the others at the table who can hear everything we're saying and clear my throat. "So go on then, try Vanishing it." I watch her for a moment before adding, "You should also study for the written parts. You know, definitions and stuff." I pick up my notes and begin reading through them. We sit there for the next few hours, me reading through my notes and Conjuring a bird when Daphne manages to Vanish the one she's working on.

When we finally grow too tired to continue studying, we gather up our things and start toward the dormitory. "If I pass this, it's all thanks to you," Daphne says as we prepare for bed.

The next morning goes quite like the day before. Breakfast is quiet, with students studying around their meals. Then we all waste time in the entrance hall while the Great Hall is transformed into our examination room. We file into the Great Hall, one class at a time, to the tables that have replaced the House tables like yesterday. Again, McGonagall stands in the front of the room where the staff table is typically located. Once she gives us permission to begin, she flips the large hourglass, and we all flip our papers and begin writing.

When I finish the exam, which was much easier than the Charms one (which I didn't think was that hard to begin with), I'm confident that this is the one class I will score an "Outstanding" in.

Later after lunch, for the practical part of the examination, I'm waiting with Ron outside the exam room. Harry and Hermione and Daphne have both been called back already. "Oh, I don't think I ever told you," I say to Ron, "you did great in the last Quidditch match."

He beams. "You know, I wasn't feeling that confident because I'd already let in that one of Davies's, but I dunno, when Bradley came toward me, just out of nowhere I thought—you can do this! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goal hoop—my right, his left—but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took a chance and flew left—his right, I mean—and—well—you know what happened." He adds quietly, "Harry and Hermione missed the whole thing . . ."

"It happens," I say, desperately wanting to ask where they had been. "You should have seen Draco's face when he realized that his song had been turned around from mocking you to praising you. Highlight of the term."

Ron smiles widely, but before he has a chance to say anything, the doors to the Great Hall open, yet no professor walks out to call in the next group of students. Instead, all the professors carry flamingos out of the room without bothering to say anything to us. "Are we supposed to know how to do that?" Ron asks anxiously. "I don't know how to make anything into flamingos!"

"If I had to guess, I would say that someone messed up."

I'm proven right by the end of my practical, because at no point was I required to make any sort of flamingo.

Now that the Charms and Transfiguration exams are out of the way, I'm dreading the rest of the O.W.L.s. Those two are my best classes, and both are done in the first two days. Everything will go downhill from here, no doubt.

I'm walking through a corridor, making my way back to the dungeons to study for Herbology, an exam I'm already resigned to failing, when I hear a group of students behind me.

"So," Pansy says overly cheerily, "how have your O.W.L.s been going, Draco?"

"Really well," he answers, "as you know, Father knows Professor Marchbanks really well. She knows me, too. I'm not worried."

"Oh how great it must be to be a Malfoy!" Pansy shrieks.

I stop moving, intending for Draco and his group to walk around me, but Crabbe grabs my arm and pulls me along with them.

"Think you can get away from us?" Pansy asks. "Not too keen to learn about the family you threw away?"

Has Draco told them? Surely not . . . That would only endanger him, right? So why do I have this awful feeling in the pit of my gut, like something's going to happen, like they're going to mention who I really am? This is fine. This is fine.

"I mean, had you not been running around with that blood traitor Fred Weasley," she continues, "and had you not broken Draco's heart through your cheating ways, you could have wound up being a Malfoy, yeah?"

Oh good. I just threw away the Malfoys, not the Lestranges. She doesn't know. I bite my tongue before replying, "Is that what he told you then?"

"It's not a matter of what he told us, Rodgers. It's a matter of what we saw. You were just waiting for the moment to leave Draco so you could go snog that redheaded Weasley boy! Have you seen his family? No one in their right mind would trade a Malfoy for a Weasley. Their father is the laughing stock of the Ministry!"

I sigh. "That's not at all what happened, but if it was, can you blame me? I'd rather be with a laughing stock than someone who is so self-absorbed that there's no room for anyone else, someone so obsessed with power and being in control that the thought of anyone disagreeing with them or rising above them sends them into full-on panic. Would you like to know what really happened?" I shoot Draco a glare. "You see, his father—"

Draco suddenly turns toward me, his wand out, and all of us come to a stop in the corridor. "If you dare speak against my father, you'll regret it."

"You think I'm afraid of you?" I ask, raising my chin at him.

"Why shouldn't you be? Who are you? Someone who doesn't know who she is? Someone whose family disowned her?" So maybe he's told his friends a few more lies about me than what is already believed, and I can't help but wonder if he did it to make me look even worse than I already do. I wonder what exactly he's told them but am in no mood to try to figure it out.

"Has your father not told you what happened over Easter? Why I was not here, at Hogwarts? You wanted me to tell you the other day, but I didn't. I'll give you another chance to walk away before I tell you something you don't want to hear." When he doesn't make a move to release me, I continue, "I was called back to your home by your aunt. I had no choice in the matter, of course. You see, she and your father had a friend who wanted to meet me. You already know who I went to meet. Apparently, he had heard about how I grew up and thought I might have some potential to join his organization after I leave Hogwarts."

"Does this mystery man have a name?" Crabbe sneers.

"Of course, but I'm not going to share that information with you." My eyes meet Draco's. "Of course, your father, Draco, never saw it coming. This friend of theirs had me duel him, meaning I had to duel Lucius." I laugh. "Would you like to know what happened?"

Draco doesn't make a sound or any movement.

"I'll tell you anyway," I say proudly. "I crushed him, put him on his back, right in front of his friend. And just let me tell you, Draco, his friend was not happy. Not. At. All." I let this sink in as well. Can he see my lie? I don't care. He seems somewhat disturbed by the thought, and that's enough.

Pansy giggles, probably correctly assuming that I am a liar. Through this fit of giggles, she asks, "You? You expect me to believe that you put Lucius Malfoy on his back? The wizard who is more important to the Ministry of Magic than your dead mother ever was?"

She expects this comment to bother me. It doesn't. But I don't let her see that—I let her think she's getting under my skin. "Yes," I say. "Yes, I do."

"Prove it," Goyle says. "I've met his father. You wouldn't have lasted more than two seconds against him."

I smile arrogantly. "I see no real competition here through which I can 'prove' myself. Then again . . . there was no real competition at Malfoy Manor either . . ."

Draco pushes me against the wall, his wand digging into my stomach. I never thought I'd hate Draco, and yet here I am. "Don't speak another word against my father!"

"Mr. Malfoy!" Snape strides toward the group of us. I close my eyes against the slight annoyance rising in my chest. Really, I should be thanking him for saving me from whatever they could have done to me as the odds were against me, as much as I hate to admit it. "Just what are you doing to Miss Rodgers?"

Draco sneers at me and moves away, sliding his wand back into his robes. "Nothing, Professor. I was just leaving."

Snape doesn't stop Draco and his posse as they retreat down the corridor.

"I suppose you want me to thank you," I say, flattening out the wrinkles in my robes.

He glances at me. "What would become of me if I allowed a Death Eater's son to hurt his prized possession while under my watch?"

I scowl at him and open my mouth to respond in kind, but he simply starts walking away. My fighting spirit kind of dies as I watch him disappear around the corner. Honestly, he's not worth the effort to fight with right now as I'd rather just be quiet and be alone for a minute because even though it's not the first time he's said something like that to me, his words actually sting me more than I thought they would.