There may be some things and interactions you may see that aren't canon. I only added them because I know how me and my teenaged friends acted in school, and sometimes I felt like a lot of teenaged interaction wasn't shown in the books. Then again it was a children's series, so I can't complain too much. But anyways, hope you don't mind it.

On with the fic...I can't wait to get out this book but I refuse to rush through it.

Chapter 153: OWLs Part 1

The next morning, my high from winning was still in effect. All I could think about was the game, how I played, and that we won. I couldn't help going on and on about it as we sat under the beech tree at the edge of the lake revising.

The day before as well as the morning was so different than it was before I had played. People were coming up to me congratulating me left and right. Every now and then "Weasley Is Our King" was chanted, and even a few girls were batting their eyes and giggling at me, something that I never had happen to me in all my years at Hogwarts.

As we sat under the tree, no matter how much Hermione would try to talk about our schoolwork, I couldn't help but talk about the game.

"Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards 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, obviously, his left-but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left-his right, I mean-and-well-you saw what happened. And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later...What?" I asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on Harry's face. "Why are you grinning?"

"I'm not," said Harry quickly, as he looked down at his notes, attempting to straighten his lace. "I'm just glad we won, that's all."

"Yeah," I said slowly, savoring the words, "we won. Did you see the look on Chang's face when Ginny got the Snitch right out from under her nose?"

"I suppose she cried, did she?" said Harry.

"Well, yeah, more out of temper than anything, though. But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?"

"Er-" said Harry.

'What...what's the matter?"

"Well, actually ... no, Ron," said Hermione with a heavy sigh, putting down her book and looking at me apologetically. "As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Harry and I saw was Davies's first goal."

My winning high plummeted. "You didn't watch?" I said faintly, looking from Hermione to Harry. "You didn't see me make any of those saves?"

"Well...no," said Hermione, placing her hand on top of mine, which I swiftly moved. "But Ron, we didn't want to leave, we had to!"

I couldn't believe it. They didn't see. She didn't see. My greatest moment of my life...and they both missed it.

"Yeah?" I said, feeling my face tingle as I knew it was turning red. "How come?"

"It was Hagrid," said Harry. "He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway..."

I listened to Harry talk about Hagrid and his giant brother, and what Hagrid asked of them to do. As pissed as I was, I couldn't help but feel bad over the situation, as well as very scared.

"He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?"

"Yep," said Harry grimly.

"No," I said in disbelief. "No, he can't have."

"Well, he has," said Hermione firmly. "Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me," she snorted, "as Hermy."

I couldn't help but give a small chuckle at that.

"And Hagrid wants us to ... ?"

"Teach him English, yeah," said Harry.

"He's lost his bloody mind."

"Language, but yes," said Hermione irritably, "I'm starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise."

"Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all," I said firmly. "I mean, come on ... we've got exams and we're about this far (almost pinching my thumb and index finger together) from being chucked out as it is. And anyway, remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Have we ever come off better for mixing with any of Hagrid's monster mates?"

"I know, it's just that-we promised," said Hermione in a small voice.

I ran my lingers through my hair in frustration. "Well, Hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all."

Harry and Hermione shrugged and looked back down at their work. I sighed. I already knew what their answer was. And also knew that I would follow them.

Later on that night, Hermione and I left Harry in the common room as we went on prefects duty. For the first 20 minutes, neither one of us said anything. The thought of what they had told me earlier weighed heavily on my mind, and I didn't know if I should tell Hermione how I felt or not.

After we caught two Ravenclaws snogging and sent them off (as if they didn't have a common room to do that shit in), Hermione finally started talking.

"Why are you being so quiet?" she asked.

"I'm sorry?" I said, trying to play it off.

"You're so quiet. Usually you talk."

"I just don't have much to say." I said, which was somewhat true.

Hermione sighed. "Is this about Harry and I missing the game?"

I didn't say anything.

"It is, isn't it? Oh Ron, we told you-"

"I know, I know. Couldn't help it. Had to help Hagrid. Blah blah blah... "

"Oh Ronald, you're being totally selfish." scoffed Hermione.

I stopped walking. That irritated the hell out of me.

"I'm being selfish? I'm being selfish? The one time I truly get shit right during a Quidditch game, the one time where I'm not being a complete and utter disaster, and my best mates missed it! Forgive me for wanting you to see me succeed for once! Or did you think that I wouldn't do anything so you could afford to disappear."

Hermione's eyes grew wide as she stared at me ranting.

"Of all the times Hagrid needed you, did it really have to be that time? It couldn't wait for a few hours? The game wasn't horribly long! I'll be selfish then. I'm always around to be there for you when you two triumph over something, why couldn't you? Why couldn't you be there for me?"

I leaned against the cool stone wall. Hermione looked as if she was blown away by my speech.

"Ron, I... you're right. You're absolutely right. In should have been there. Harry too. We both should have been there. I'm sorry."

Hermione looked down at the ground in disappointment, which made me feel bad for yelling.

"Hey.." I said, taking her hand, "it's fine. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have lashed out on you like that, especially since Hagrid did need you two. It's just that... Never mind."

"It's just what?" asked Hermione as she looked back up at me.

"Nothing. Just forget it. I'm fine."

Hermione nodded. "I am really sorry that I did miss your goal keeping. It sounded like you did splendidly."

"I did do splendidly." I said with a smirk, trying to lighten the situation. "You'll just have to make it up to me one day, is all."

"Oh? And what am I supposed to do?"

"Whatever the king bids you of course." I joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course, your majesty."

June had arrived, and with it, came beautiful breezes, but to us fifth-years this meant only one thing: OWLs.

Our teachers were no longer giving homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. Tension in the air was thicker than the twins swamp, and Hermione was much too preoccupied these days to badger anyone about anything but studying. She was going mental, spending a lot of time muttering to herself, and had not laid out any elf clothes for days.

She was not the only person acting oddly as the OWLs drew steadily nearer. Ernie had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their revision practices.

"How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?" he demanded of Harry and I as we queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"I dunno," I said. "A few."

"More or less than eight?"

"Less, I s'pose," I said, giving Ernie an alarmed look.

"I'm doing eight," said Ernie, puffing out his chest like Percy. "Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eights my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday-only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday-"

I was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered us into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to stop his useless speech.

Meanwhile, Ferret Bollocks had found a different way to induce panic.

"Of course, it's not what you know," he was heard to tell Crabbe and Goyle loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams were to start, "it's who you know. Now, Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years-old Griselda Marchbanks-we've had her round for dinner and everything."

"Do you think that's true?" Hermione whispered frantically to Harry and I.

"Nothing we can do about it if it is," I said gloomily.

"I don't think it's true," said Neville quietly from behind us. "Because Griselda Marchbanks is a friend of my gran's, and she's never mentioned the Malfoy's."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, feeling much better. Git.

"What's she like, Neville?" asked Hermione at once. "Is she strict?"

"Bit like Gran, really," said Neville in a subdued voice.

"Knowing her won't hurt your chances, though, will it?" I encouraged him.

"Oh, I don't think it will make any difference," said Neville, still more miserably. "Gran's always telling Professor Marchbanks I'm not as good as my dad ... well ... you saw what she's like at St. Mungo's ..."

Neville looked down at the floor. Harry, Hermione, and I glanced at each other, but didn't know what to say. It was the first time Neville had acknowledged that we had met at the wizarding hospital.

Meanwhile, a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth- and seventh-years. Harry and I were much tempted by the bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir offered to them by Ravenclaw sixth-year Eddie Carmichael, who swore it was solely responsible for the nine 'Outstanding' OWLs he had gained the previous summer and was offering a whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. I assured Harry I would reimburse him for my half the moment I left Hogwarts and got a job, but before we could close the deal, Hermione had confiscated the bottle from Carmichael and poured the contents down a toilet.

"Hermione, we wanted to buy that!" I shouted.

"Don't be stupid," she snarled. "You might as well take Harold Dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it."

"Dingle's got powdered dragon claw?"

"Not any more," said Hermione. "I confiscated that, too. None of these things actually work, you know."

"Dragon claw does work! It's supposed to be incredible, really gives your brain a boost, you come over all cunning for a few hours-Hermione, let me have a pinch, go on, it can't hurt-"

"This stuff can," said Hermione grimly. "I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried doxy droppings."

This information took the edge off Harry and my desire for brain stimulants. Better to get our grades the old fashioned way.

We received our examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during their next Transfiguration lesson.

"As you can see," Professor McGonagall told our class as we copied down the dates and times of our exams from the blackboard, "your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory papers in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night.

"Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbour at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor. Our new-Headmistress (McGonagall spat that word out as if it were shit) has asked the Heads of House to tell their students that cheating will be punished most severely-because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the Headmistress's new regime at the school (she sighed deeply and looked as if she wanted to throw something), however, that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about."

"Please, Professor," said Hermione, her hand in the air, "when will we find out our results?"

"An owl will be sent to you some time in July," said Professor McGonagall.

"Excellent," said Dean Thomas in an audible whisper, "so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays."

I groaned. I could picture myself sitting at breakfast and my dreadful results coming by post, and Mum burning food over yelling at how poorly I did.

Our first examination, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. Harry agreed to test Hermione after lunch on Sunday, but regretted it almost at once; she was very agitated and kept snatching the book back from him to check that she had got the answer completely right, finally hitting him hard on the nose with the sharp edge of Achievements in Charming.

"Why don't you just do it yourself?" he said firmly, handing the book back to her, his eyes watering.

Meanwhile, I was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with my fingers in my ears, trying to block out all sound with horrible difficulty. My hearing was very acute. Seamus was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practising basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table.

Dinner was quiet. Unusually quiet. Harry and I did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Hermione, on the other hand, kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure.

"You need to eat, Mione." I said. "And rest. Shit, how do you expect to do well if you aren't properly fed and rested?"

Hermione gave me a glum look, the fork in her hand sliding out of it as if it were water. She then looked out the door.

'Oh, my goodness," she said faintly, staring into the Entrance Hall. "Is that them? Is that the examiners?"

Harry and I whipped around on our bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall we could see Umbridge standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Umbridge looked rather nervous, much to our satisfaction.

"Shall we go and have a closer look?" I asked. Harry and Hermione nodded and we quickly made our way towards the double doors into the Entrance Hall, slowing down as we stepped over the threshold to walk sedately past the examiners.

Professor Marchbanks must be the tiny, stooped witch with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; Umbridge was speaking to her differentially. Professor Marchbanks seemed to be a little deaf; she was answering Professor Umbridge very loudly considering they were only a foot apart.

"Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!" she said impatiently. "Now, I haven't heard from Dumbledore lately!" she added, peering around the Hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. "No idea where he is, I suppose?"

"None at all," said Umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at the three of us, who were trying to look as if we weren't listening. I pretended to do up my shoelace. "But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough."

"I doubt it," shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, "not it Dumbledore doesn't want to be found! I should know ... examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did NEWTs ... did things with a wand I'd never seen before."

"Yes ... well ..." said Professor Umbridge as we dragged their feet up the marble staircase, "let me show you to the staff room. I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey."

It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute revising but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Harry went to bed early but I stayed downstairs, making sure that Hermione actually went to bed. I knew that if we left her unsupervised that she would stay up all night cramming for no reason whatsoever, and because I myself was starting to tire, I took her bag of textbooks and parchment with me to my dorm, just so I knew she wouldn't sneak and study in her bed.

None of us fifth-years talked very much at breakfast the next day: Parvati was practicing incantations under her breath while the salt cellar in front of her twitched; Hermione was rereading Achievements in Charming so fast that her eyes appeared blurred; and Neville kept dropping his knife and fork and knocking over the marmalade.

Once breakfast was over, us fifth- and seventh-years milled around in the Entrance Hall while the other students went off to lessons; then, at half past nine, we were called forwards class by class to re-enter the Great Hall, which had been rearranged. The four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing us. Intimidating as all hell.

When we were all seated and quiet, she said, "You may begin," and turned over an enormous hourglass on the desk beside her, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles and rolls of parchment.

I turned over my paper and was relieved that I actually knew. : a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly.

I chuckled at the first year memory that it brought up. "Its le-vi-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-sa, not le-vi-o-SAAAAAAA."I muttered as I wrote the answer down.