Through the Trapdoor

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In years to come, Harriet would never quite remember every detail of how she had managed to get through her exams when she half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door. It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell. They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox — points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. Harriet particularly enjoyed his ire when she got hers right, even with the fumes trying to make her forget. Though her scar kept twinging.

Harriet did the best she could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her forehead, which had been bothering her ever since her trip into the forest. Lydia Inkwood — Harriet and Hermione's other roommate besides Lavender and Parvati — thought Harriet had a bad case of exam nerves because Harriet couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harriet kept being woken by her old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping unicorn blood in it.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harriet had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harriet. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to. Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harriet couldn't help cheering with the rest. Confident she did good on the exam.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager." Harriet rolled her eyes and barely held back an I told you so.

Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harriet, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet." Harriet was rubbing her forehead. "I wish I knew what this means!" she burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting — it's happened before, but never as often as this." Harriet grumbled. "Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested. "I'm not ill," said Harriet. "I think it's a warning . . . it means danger's coming. . . ." Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harriet, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down." Harriet nodded, but she couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something she'd forgotten to do, something important. When she tried to explain this, Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one." Harriet was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. She longingly watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent her letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy . . . never . . . but —

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