𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 || H.P

𝟏𝟔

Time was very slow. Every question answered by me during OWLs would be taken over by my curiosity of such going on outside of Hogwarts. They told me to focus on my studies, but when multitudes of people ask this from you at the same time, you're much more worried about things you should not be thinking of.

The parchment placed in front of me was filled with dozen's of questions, but my mind had only one.

What does the ministry have to do with my success while taking an exam?

"Damn, Potter is really bloody great at pretending he hates you," said Daphne with a wide grin plastered to her face.

My eyes were locked onto his portrait. The way he would fiddle with his quill whilst pondering. His constant gaze up to Umbridge every time she made a small noise. His jaw slightly tightening in frustration. "I doubt he's pretending."

Daphne held a grimace. "You've been acting dull for days, tell me what was in that letter!"

"I'd rather finish my exam, please."

"Really?" She slid my paper towards herself. "The exam you've been working on for twenty minutes without one question answered?"

I took slow breaths. "Why is everyone talking about prophecies?"

"I haven't heard anybody talking about those-"

"But they have!" I looked around the great hall and lowered my voice. "Umbridge, Snape, even my mother!"

She swallowed, seemingly not understanding my interest in this subject. "I think you need to relax, maybe-"

"Do you smell that?" I absentmindedly interrupted her sentence.

"Smell what?"

The air smelled acrid, almost damp. Every second that went by, the stronger it got. For a few moments, I thought that I was delusional, until I looked down.

My shoes. They were wet.

The water that surfaced the floor was a murky green, colored almost like a swamp. Suddenly students around me started pulling themselves up onto their desks. Umbridge looked perplexed, walking down to the gates, she opened them.

Now, the water was filled up to my knees. There were confused mumbles leading up to a small raft pulling into the corridor. Fred and George Weasley, seventh years with a fixed reputation of being a burden upon teachers. They were smiling giddily while everyone attempted to make their way across the hall.

"What is this madness?!" The headmistress shouted at the boys, "Filch! I think we are ready for these two to sign their suspension papers!"

"That wouldn't be necessary, Professor," said one of the twins.

"We already have it covered!" Finished the other.

Lee Jordan walked down to the scene carrying a large stack of papers, and two broomsticks. The redheads climbed onto them, each holding some of the papers. "Make sure you check out Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes!" They zoomed out to the courtyard as students and professors eagerly ran to follow.

The papers were flying down to the ground, like rain falling from the clouds. Everyone ignored Umbridge's enraged shouts, even Filch seemed quite a bit impressed. I tried to stay gazing up at the fireworks, but the atmosphere around me felt off.

Students from across the courtyard started to end their cheers. Harry looked weak and vulnerable. He reached up for the scar on his forehead, but he couldn't pick up the stamina to do so.

Not very long later, his body fell to the ground.