⚡︎
┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟔 *•. ┄┄
𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 '𝒆𝒎 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑳
────── *•. ⚡︎ .•*──────
The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that Hermione could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwarts legend. Within a week, even those who had been eyewitnesses were half-convinced that they had seen the twins divebomb Umbridge on their brooms, pelting her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure, there was a great wave of talk about copying them, so that Hermione frequently heard students saying things like, "Honestly, some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place," or else, "One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley. . . ."
Fred and George had made sure that nobody was likely to forget them very soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Hermione was certain that teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant, but just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.
Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's office door, through which Fred and George's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry's Firebolt to the dungeons where it was rumored, Umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, her troubles were far from over.
Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in- Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leaped on Umbridge on her reentrance, and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stinkpellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh clean air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.
Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them that he did not know which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes. Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's horror, missed all her lessons the following day, as she had sprouted antlers which was an offense to Prongs and Prongslet!
Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts—in Hermione's case, she also had a few of the Skiving Snacks. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering "Umbridge-itis." After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating, and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.
But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, and toppling statues and vases. Twice he shut Mrs. Norris inside suits of armor, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. He smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows, flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.
None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and George's departure Hermione witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn she heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "It unscrews the other way."
Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and though Hermione seemed joyful like the others, she wasn't. Not even close. As more and more days pass, not only was she missing Fred more, but also the Department of Mysteries battle was arriving.
But every time those thoughts started to surface, Hermione would just think about Fred telling her to be safe and would smile slightly. They had finished on bad terms but that gave her hope.
Nonetheless, there was one day in which Hermione was in a particularly bad mood (it may have been because of her period), so, she had decided to go to the Room of Requirement and watch movies (which she found out was possible). By the end of it she was crying her eyes out and that's how Harry and Ron found her.
They had been looking for her all day and when her name didn't appear on the map they figured she was in the Room of Requirement.
"Okay, what's wrong with you?" Ron finally asked.
He and Harry had been walking on eggshells around Hermione lately but they didn't know why. They knew she was down, even if she didn't look like it, but they didn't know zilch of what was going on.
"Nothing," Hermione said rubbing her eyes and pointing at the screen where Dead Poets Society was playing, "It's the movie! It's sad! Neil just killed himself. . . ."
"That's rubbish Hermione," Ron said shaking his head.
"No, it's not! I was in denial too for a while, but it's not healthy, Parson," Hermione said dogging the question.
"I'm not talking about the vomie!" Ron said and Harry snorted though he covered it up with a cough and turned off the TV.
"What's wrong, lately?" Harry asked. "Is it because of—" Harry stopped himself giving her a pointed look, and Hermione nodded slightly.
"Not only. . . ." she said quietly.
"What? What are you talking about?" Ron frowned.
"Hermione is dating Fred," Harry answered and then clamped his mouth shut, his eyes widening as he ducked from Hermione's punch.
"You dipshit! You just coded the name and now you blab?!"
"You're WHAT?!" Ron shouted and Hermione raised her hands in surrender standing up on the couch.
"In my defense, I'm not sure I am anymore. . . ." she said biting her lip.
"What?"
"What happened?"
"Did Fred hurt you?" Ron asked surprising both Hermione and Harry, "What? Just because you thought I would react badly, and that's why I'm assuming you didn't tell me, doesn't mean I will!"
"Actually, I did," Hermione said after a few minutes of silence.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked as she sat down again.
"I mean, that with everything that's going on and what's to come—I can't tell you so don't even —I guess I was feeling overwhelmed and I—"
"You wanted to push him away?" Ron asked clicking his tongue and Hermione grimaced as she nodded.
"I did. But he called me out and said I was being selfish—"
"—You are," Harry and Ron nodded and Hermione glared at them.
"Well, I know that now! But he walked out on me and then left. So I have no idea where we are right now," she huffed and both boys shared two awkward glances.
"Do you—Uh—like him?" Ron asked awkwardly and Hermione nodded.
"I love him," she said without skipping a bit and then covered her mouth as the boy's eyes went wide.
"You—You love him?" Harry asked and Hermione nodded, she, too, was in shock.
"What the bloody hell were you thinking then?!" Ron exclaimed and that was what brought a grin to Hermione's face though it quickly faded.
"I dunno," Hermione shrugged, "I guess everything is coming down on me and there have been so many emotions lately and you know how I don't deal well with them —"
"We know," Harry said and Ron nodded.
"How about a walk in the forest to get our mind off things?" Ron suggested and Harry and Hermione both nodded. That's how a stag, a horse, and a dog ended up playing tag between the tall trees of the Forbidden Forest.
The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor was not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course, nobody said it to him) to Ron's abysmal goalkeeping record. He, however, seemed to have found a new optimism.
"I mean, I can't get any worse, can I?" he told Harry and Hermione grimly over breakfast on the morning of the match. "Nothing to lose now, is there?"
"You know, I think next year I will go for the commentator spot," Hermione said as she and Harry walked down to the pitch a little late in the midst of a very excitable crowd.
"What? Why?" Harry exclaimed, "Your supposed to be a chaser! Angie would have wanted you to fill in for her or Alicia!"
"Well, I can be both, dumbarse," Hermione said rolling her eyes, "I can do the commentary on the games I'm not playing in. Imagine how fun it would be to listen to me talk?
"Hermione you don't go to the other's games," Harry pointed out and Hermione tilted her head.
"I guess you're right. Besides, it's only fun when it's a biased game. . . . Well, the option is still on the table."
Luna Lovegood overtook them with what appeared to be a live eagle perched on top of her head. Hermione grinned and went to take a picture with her before coming back to Harry's side.
They found seats in the topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, clear day. Ron could not wish for better, and Hermione found herself hoping against hope that Ron would not give the Slytherins cause for more rousing choruses of "Weasley Is Our King."
Lee Jordan, who had been very dispirited since Fred and George had left, was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out onto the pitches he named the players with something less than his usual gusto.
"And they're off!" said Lee. "And Davies takes the Quaffle immediately, Ravenclaw Captain Davies with the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinnet as well. . . . He's going straight for goal! He's going to shoot—and—and—" Lee swore very loudly. "And he's scored."
"PARSON, MAKE YOUR FAMILY PROUD, YOU BLOODY MORON!" Hermione shouted at Ron who turned slightly red but nodded fiercely at her.
"Harry," said a hoarse voice in their ears. "Hermione . . ."
Hermione turned around and saw Hagrid's enormous bearded face sticking between the seats; apparently, he had squeezed his way all along the row behind, for the first and second years he had just passed had a ruffled, flattened look about them. For some reason, Hagrid was bent double as though anxious not to be seen, though he was still at least four feet taller than everybody else.
"Listen," he whispered, "can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?"
"Er . . . can't it wait, Hagrid?" asked Harry as Hermione started nodding frantically as she wanted to get to meet Grawp. "Till the match is over?
"No," said Hagrid. "No, Harry, it's gotta be now . . . while ev'ryone's lookin' the other way. . . . Please?"
Hagrid's nose was gently dripping blood. His eyes were both blackened. Hermione had not seen him this close up since his return to the school; he looked utterly woebegone.
" 'Course," said Harry at once, " 'course we'll come. . . ."
That was how they got to meet Grawp. Now, it wasn't a complicated introduction and besides the walk there (which Hermione was not fond of) the only other trouble they had was a not-so-friendly talk with the centaurs. And Hermione got Grawp to call her Mia instead of Hermy.
At last, they rejoined the path and after another ten minutes, the trees began to thin. They were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and hear, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting.
"Was that another goal?" asked Hagrid, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. "Or d'you reckon the match is over?"
"I dunno," said Hermione shrugging.
"I reckon it's over, yeh know!" said Hagrid, still squinting toward the stadium. "Look—there's people comin' out already — if you two hurry yeh'll be able ter blend in with the crowd an' no one'll know you weren't there!"
"Good idea," said Harry. "Well . . . see you later, then, Hagrid. . . ."
"Next time we're there, we'll go as our Animagi forms," Hermione said.
"Seconded," Harry nodded as they joined a stream of jabbering Hufllepuffs heading back toward the castle. "But he's not asking us to do anything unless he gets chucked out and that might not even happen—"
"Bullshit, Harry," Hermione said solemnly. "He is going to get sacked. But he'll be alright."
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He didn't let the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King . . . .
"Can't they stop singing that song?!" Harry asked feverishly and Hermione only smirked.
A great tide of students was moving up the sloping lawns from the pitch.
Weasley can save anything,
He never leaves a single ring
That's why Gryffindors all sing:
Weasley is our King.
"Hermione . . ." said Harry slowly turning to her only to see Hermione grinning already.
The song was growing louder, but it was issuing not from a crowd of green-and-silver-clad Slytherins, but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly toward the castle, which was bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders. . . .
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He didn't let the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King . . .
"YES!" said Harry loudly.
"HARRY! HERMIONE!" yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch Cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. "WE DID IT! WE WON!"
They beamed up at him as he passed; there was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the entrance hall and out of sight. Harry and Hermione watched them go, beaming, until the last echoing strains of "Weasley Is Our King" died away. Then they turned to each other, their smiles fading.
"We'll save our news till tomorrow, shall we?" said Harry.
"Eh," Hermione shrugged as she looped her arm with his and they climbed the steps together.
Ron's euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch Cup was such that he could not settle to anything the next day. All he wanted to do was talk over the match and Harry and Hermione found it very difficult to find an opening in which to mention Grawp—not that either of them tried very hard; neither was keen to be the one to bring Ron back to reality in quite such a brutal fashion.
As it was another fine, warm day, they persuaded him to join them in studying (something Hermione was not so keen on doing) under the beech tree on the edge of the lake, where they stood less chance of being overheard than in the common room. Ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first; he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by Gryffindors walking past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of "Weasley Is Our King," but agreed after a while that some fresh air might do him good.
They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.
"Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling that confident, 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, 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," he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them—a bunch of gossiping third-year Hufflepuffs—had heard him.
"And then, when Chambers came at me about five minutes later—what?" Ron said, stopping mid-sentence at the look on Harry's face. "Why are you grinning?"
"I'm not," said Harry quickly, looking down at his Transfiguration notes and attempting to straighten his face. The truth was that Ron had just reminded Harry forcibly of another Gryffindor Quidditch player who had once sat rumpling his hair under this very tree. Hermione too was reminded of that even more so because Regulus was laughing at Ron as James scowled at him. "I'm just glad we won, that's all."
"Yeah," said Ron 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 bitterly.
"Well, yeah—more out of temper than anything, though . . ." Ron frowned slightly. "But you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?"
"Er—" said Harry.
"No, actually. . . ." Hermione said looking slightly apologetic, "We only saw the first goal."
Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment.
"You didn't watch?" he said faintly, looking from one to the other. "You didn't see me make any of those saves?"
"No. . . ." Hermione grimaced sharing a look with Ron, "But with how much you talked about it I can picture it already! You sure look handsome, Parson!" Hermione said closing her eyes and pretending to be seeing something. Ron didn't find it amusing.
"How come you left?"
"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 . . ."
The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity.
"He brought one back and hid it in the forest?"
"Yep," said Harry grimly.
"No," said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue.
"No, he can't have. . . ."
"But he has," said Hermione amusedly. "Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, and likes to rip off trees."
Ron gave a nervous laugh.
"And Hagrid wants us to . . . ?"
"Teach him English, yeah," said Harry.
"He's lost his mind," said Ron in an almost awed voice.
"He made me promise," Harry mumbled.
"Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all," said Ron firmly. "I mean, come on . . . We've got exams and we're about that far," he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart, "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 wish I had met Norberta," Hermione sighed.
Ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied.
"Well," he sighed, "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."
The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived, but to the fifth years this meant only one thing: Their O.W.L.s were upon them at last.
Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to reviewing those topics their teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. Hermione had already started wearing her glasses and she found that they truly worked wonders. Though people had started to ask why she started wearing them in the first place. Hermione would only shrug and say she was having headaches from reading (which was true but it had nothing to do with her eyes).
She was not the only person acting oddly as the O.W.L.s drew steadily nearer. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their study habits.
"How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?" he demanded of Hermione, Harry, and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.
"I dunno," said Ron. "A few . . ."
"More or less than eight?"
"Less, I s'pose," said Ron, looking slightly alarmed.
"I'm doing eight," said Ernie, puffing out his chest. "Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eight's my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day—"
"Ernie! That's not healthy!" Hermione said in disbelief and the Hufflepuff snapped his head to her, "You might even do worse because of so much study. Your brain will go in overdrive and—"
Everyone was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Hermione to abandon her rant about how important sleep and lack of study was. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy 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. . . ."
"That ain't true," Hermione said rolling her eyes.
"Nothing we can do about it if it is," said Ron gloomily.
"I don't think it's true," said Neville quietly from behind them. "Because Griselda Marchbanks is a friend of my gran's, and she's never mentioned the Malfoys."
"Knowing her won't hurt your chances though, will it?" Ron told him encouragingly.
"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. . . ."
"That is just not true, Neville," Hermione exclaimed outraged. "No offense to your gran, 'cause I know you love her, but that's bullshit. One, you don't have to be like your dad, and two, you are good, you just need more confidence and maybe a new wand."
"A new wand?" Neville asked confused.
"Well, yeah, that's your dad's wand, innit? Even if it's good and everything it's still not yours," Hermione explained, "The wand chooses the wizard. Wands can't just be passed down."
"Oh."
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 Ron 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" O.W.L.s he had gained the previous summer and was offering the whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. Ron assured Harry he would reimburse him for his half the moment he left Hogwarts and got a job, but before they could close the deal, Hermione had confiscated the bottle from Carmichael and poured the contents down a toilet.
"Hermione, we wanted to buy that!" shouted Ron.
"You would get your arses poisoned!" Hermione retorted, "Carmichael is awful at Potions. Besides, I know you'll do well, you just need to study."
This information took the edge off Harry and Ron's desire for brain stimulators.
They received their examination schedules and details of the procedure for O.W.L.s during their next Transfiguration lesson.
"As you can see," Professor McGonagall told the class while they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, "your O.W.L.s are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory exams 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 harbor 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—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. . . ."
Professor McGonagall gave a tiny sigh. Hermione saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare.
"However, that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about."
"Minnie, when will the results be up?" Hermione asked pushing her glasses up.
"An owl will be sent to you sometime 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. . . ."
Their first exam, 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 more chill than usual and kept answering the questions with really stupid answers.
"Why don't you read the book, Mimi?" he said firmly, handing the book back to her. "Because I'm not sure you know the answers. . . ."
Hermione laughed amusedly and shook her head. Of course, she knew them, and even if she didn't she had her glasses she would know them.
Meanwhile, Ron was reading two years of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm, while Dean—who was laying on his back, his head in Seamus's stomach (which Hermione found adorable)—checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practicing basic locomotion charms, were making their pencil cases race each other around the edge of the table.
Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry, Hermione, and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day.
It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute studying but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Hermione went to bed early and promptly fell asleep as her head hit the pillow.
None of the fifth years talked very much at breakfast the next day either. Parvati was practicing incantations under her breath while the salt cellar in front of her twitched, Hermione was testing her glasses, and Neville kept dropping his knife and fork and knocking over the marmalade.
Once breakfast was over, the fifth and seventh years milled around in the entrance hall while the other students went off to lessons. Then, at half-past nine, they were called forward class by class to reenter the Great Hall, which was now arranged differently. The four House tables had been removed and replaced in-stead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor McGonagall stood facing them. When they were all seated and quiet she said, "You may begin," and turned over an enormous hourglass on the desk beside her, on which were also spare quills, ink bottles, and rolls of parchment.
Hermione turned over her paper, her glasses on top of her head as she was trying to first answer alone . . .
She lowered his eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation, and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly. . . .
Hermione was able to answer about every question without her glasses and only used them to check on them.
The fifth years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four House tables reappeared over the lunch hour) and then trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forward in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practiced wand movements, occasionally poking one another in the back or eye by mistake.
Hermione's name was called. She walked into the great hall, a slight swagger to her pace, and her wand behind her ear.
"Professor Tofty is free, Miss Granger," squeaked Professor Flitwick, he pointed Hermione toward what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner. "Good luck!"
"Granger, is it?" said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Hermione as she approached.
"Yes, sir," Hermione smiled.
"Now, if I could ask you to take this eggcup and make it do some cartwheels for me. . . ."
Hermione thought it went perfectly. She would gladly admit she had a thing for Charms and they just came naturally but that could also have to do with her practicing spells in the other universe off of websites on the internet.
There was no time to relax that night—they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in studying for Transfiguration the next day.
Her written exam went quite well and she answered the entirety of the paper correctly, only using her glasses for a particularly hard question and even then she just had to correct something. The practical exam went even better and Hermione even wordlessly made her iguana vanish (she did indeed flex a bit on her non-verbal abilities, but if that gained her points what was the problem?).
They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (now that one Hermione was sure she would scrape a positive as she had been more worried about her hair rather than the plant) and then, on Thursday, Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione was sure she had passed. She had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counterjinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the entrance hall.
"Oh bravo!" cried Professor Tofty, who was examining her again, when Hermione demonstrated a perfect boggart banishing spell. "Very good indeed! I think that's all, Miss Granger."
"Do you think I could maybe do something for a bonus point?" Hermione asked innocently and the Professor Tofty frowned.
"Well, do show me, Miss Granger."
"Expecto Patronum!"
Her silver horse erupted from the end of her wand and cantered the length of the hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress and when it dissolved into silver mist, Professor Tofty clapped his veined and knotted hands enthusiastically.
"Very well!"
"Just one thing, Harry Potter produces an even more awesome one!" she smiled.
On Friday, Hermione sat her Ancient Runes exam. Now, this was the exam she had truly studied for, well, that and Potions. And she could confidently say she would get at least an 'E' in it, even more so because the glasses came in handy in one or two questions.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron spent most of Saturday and Sunday studying for Potions on Monday, the exam to which Hermione was looking forward least. Sure enough, she found the written exam difficult but with her glasses, she was able to answer most of the questions only leaving one or two incorrect.
The afternoon practical was not as dreadful as she had expected it to be. When Professor Marchbanks said, "Step away from your cauldrons, please, the examination is over," Hermione corked her sample flask feeling that she might as well become a professional Potioneer (not! her color was slightly off but it was good enough for at least an 'A').
Hermione was determined to perform well in Tuesday's Care of Magical Creatures exam so as to have a backup plan in case she wanted to go to Romania and work with Charlie. The practical examination took place in the afternoon on the lawn on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where students were required to correctly identify the knarl hidden among a dozen hedgehogs (the trick was to offer them all milk in turn: knarls, highly suspicious creatures whose quills had many magical properties, generally went berserk at what they saw as an attempt to poison them); then demonstrate correct handling of a bowtruckle, feed and clean a fire-crab without sustaining serious burns, and choose, from a wide selection of food, the diet they would give a sick unicorn.
The Astronomy theory exam on Wednesday morning went well enough; for that one, Hermione didn't even need her glasses for checking, after all, it was her favorite class and she was sure she could pass with closed eyes; which is ironic since you have to see to stargaze.
They had to wait until evening for their practical Astronomy; the afternoon was devoted instead to Arithmancy instead.
Now, as much as Hermione liked it (which wasn't much) she wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to continue with it the next year. Even more so because this was the exam she had to use her glasses the most.
When they reached the top of the Astronomy Tower at eleven o'clock they found a perfect night for stargazing, cloudless and still. The grounds were bathed in silvery moonlight, and there was a slight chill in the air. Each of them set up his or her telescope and, when Professor Marchbanks gave the word, proceeded to fill in the blank star chart he or she had been given.
Professors Marchbanks and Tofty strolled among them, watching as they entered the precise positions of the stars and planets they were observing. All was quiet except for the rustle of parchment, the occasional creak of a telescope as it was adjusted on its stand, and the scribbling of many quills. Half an hour passed, then an hour; the little squares of reflected gold light flickering on the ground below started to vanish as lights in the castle windows were extinguished. Hermione had already finished her chart by now and was just looking up at the sky at Sirius with a smile. Her eyes then trailed to the Leo constellation and Regulus, however, the front doors of the castle opened directly below the parapet where she was standing, so that light spilled down the stone steps a little way across the lawn.
Hermione glanced down with a grimace as she knew what was about to happen. She adjusted her telescope and looked over at the half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. If they had not been moving, and the moonlight had not been gilding the tops of their heads, they would have been indistinguishable from the dark ground on which they stood. She heard a distant knock that echoed through the deserted grounds, followed immediately by the muffled barking of a large dog.
There were lights on in Hagrid's windows and the people he had observed crossing the lawn were now silhouetted against them. The door opened and he distinctly saw six tiny but sharply defined figures walk over the threshold. The door closed again and there was silence.
Figures were now moving across the cabin windows, temporarily blocking the light. She heard a roar from the distant cabin that echoed through the darkness right to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Several of the people around her ducked out from behind their telescopes and peered instead in the direction of Hagrid's cabin.
Professor Tofty gave another dry little cough.
"Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls," he said softly.
Most people returned to their telescopes. Hermione kept her telescope fixed on the cabin.
There was a loud BANG from the grounds. Several people said "Ouch!" as they poked themselves in the face with the ends of their telescopes, hastening to see what was going on below.
Hagrid's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.
"Get back at them, Hagrid!" Hermione shouted.
"My dear!" said Professor Tofty in a scandalized voice. "This is an examination!"
But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star charts anymore: Jets of red light were still flying beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him. He was still upright and still, as far as Hermione could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, "Be reasonable, Hagrid!" and Hagrid roared, "Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!"
Hermione could see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he fell to the ground. Hagrid gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground, and threw him: The man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again.
"Look!" squealed Parvati, who was leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle where the front doors seemed to have opened again; more light had spilled out onto the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn.
"Now, really!" said Professor Tofty anxiously. "Only sixteen minutes left, you know!"
But nobody paid him the slightest attention: They were watching the person now sprinting toward the battle beside Hagrid's cabin.
"How dare you!" the figure shouted as she ran. "How dare you!"
"It's MINNIE!" Hermione shouted.
"Leave him alone! Alone, I say!" said Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. "On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such—"
Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender all screamed. No fewer than four Stunners had shot from the figures around the cabin toward Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her. For a moment she looked luminous, illuminated by an eerie red glow, then was lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.
"MINNIE!" Hermione screamed.
"Galloping gargoyles!" shouted Professor Tofty, who seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. "Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behavior!"
"COWARDS!" bellowed Hagrid, his voice carrying clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT—AN' THAT—"
"YES! YOU GO HAGRID!"
Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold. Hermione saw him double over and thought for a moment that he had finally been overcome by a spell, but on the contrary, the next moment Hagrid was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on his back—then Hermione saw that Fang's limp body was draped around his shoulders.
"Get him, get him!" screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists. Indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck; Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed, and Hagrid, running full-pelt toward the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.
There was a long minute's quivering silence, everybody gazing open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tofty's voice said feebly, "Um . . . five minutes to go, everybody . . ."
When it came at last Hermione, Harry and Ron forced their telescopes haphazardly back into their holders and dashed back down the spiral staircase. None of the students were going to bed—they were all talking loudly and excitedly at the foot of the stairs about what they had witnessed.
"I wish I could just hit her with a hammer!" Hermione said in outrage.
"She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Trelawney's," said Ernie Macmillan sagely, squeezing over to join them.
"Hagrid did well, didn't he?" said Ron, who looked more alarmed than impressed. "How come all the spells bounced off him?"
"He's half-giant," Hermione said, "It's hard to stun a giant. Minnie is really strong. It takes seven to eight stunning spells to knock out a dragon the size of a small hill and she took four to the chest and will survive. Minnie is a badarse!" Hermione said and the students around them looked impressed.
"Dreadful, dreadful," said Ernie finally, shaking his head pompously. "Well, I'm off to bed. . . . 'Night, all . . ."
People around them were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen.
"At least they didn't get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban," said Ron. "I 'spect he's gone to join Dumbledore, hasn't he?"
"I guess," said Hermione, "But now Dumbles, Hagrid, and Minnie are gone. The only ally from the Chiken's Order we have is Snape," Hermione said and Ron and Harry paled at the prospect.
They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were now telling everyone what they had heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower.
"But why sack Hagrid now?" asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. "It's not like Trelawney, he's been teaching much better than usual this year!"
"She hates part-humans," Hermione said bitterly flopping into an armchair. "She was always going to sack him. I'm surprised she isn't chucking muggle-borns out yet," Hermione said quietly.
"And she thought Hagrid was putting nifflers in her office," piped up Katie Bell trying to defuse the tension over Hermione's last comment.
"Oh blimey," said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. "It's me's been putting the nifflers in her office, Fred and George left me a couple, I've been levitating them in through her window. . . ."
"She'd have sacked him anyway," said Dean. "He was too close to Dumbledore."
"That's true," said Harry, sinking into an armchair beside Hermione's.
"I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right," said Lavender tearfully.
"They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window," said Colin Creevey "She didn't look very well. . . ."
"Madam Pomfrey will sort her out," said Alicia Spinnet firmly. "She's never failed yet."
It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Hermione slept badly that night but nonetheless did.
The fifth years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock the next afternoon and took their places in front of their overturned examination papers for their History of Magic Exam. Hermione felt mildly exhausted but she was too anxious about what would take place afterward to notice it.
"Turn over your papers," said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hourglass. "You may begin. . . ."
Hermione, her glasses on, began to write. Those glasses were her only chance at actually passing as she didn't know any questions in the exam with exception of "Name" and "Date" and even then, she had to think a bit before writing "Hermione Black" instead of "Hermione Granger".
But, at last, Hermione saw as Harry fell sideways off the dead onto the cold stone floor. Yelling as he clutched his scar, he woke up, the Great Hall erupted all around him.
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