Discovery

67.

No one could stop talking about the spectacular events that occurred. In classes, in the Great Hall, and even in the bathrooms, people discussed the legacy the twins had left behind— and how they were determined to carry it on.

I, however, didn't like to think about what had happened that day. Things were lonely without Fred, and tears filled my eyes every time I thought about him. Because of Umbridge, we couldn't even write letters, and not talking to him was much more difficult than I had anticipated.

Every day felt the same. I was just eagerly awaiting summer holidays, and thankfully, June arrived rather quickly. But, this meant only one thing for fifth years: Our O.W.L.s were upon us at last.

I studied every night with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I crammed so much information into my brain, I was sure I was going to explode. But no studying could truly prepare me for the anxiety I felt during each exam.

I felt good about my Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, mostly because of Dumbledore's Army. Charms wasn't too bad either, and Transfiguration was a breeze. Muggle Studies was also exceptionally simple because of the knowledge my Muggle-born mother had passed down to me.

History of Magic was our final exam, and I was struggling much more than I had thought I would.

Probably because this is the class you skive off the most, I thought to myself as I scratched down a random answer on my parchment.

Towards the end of the exam, the questions got even harder, and I tapped nervously on my desk as I debated which answer made the most logical sense.

Suddenly, someone started screaming. I turned around, along with everyone else in the Hall, and saw Harry, falling off his desk onto the stone floor. As if he suddenly became conscious of what he was doing, he ran out of the Hall, our exam proctor following swiftly behind.

Hermione and I exchanged a concerned look, and when the exam was over, we rushed down the hallways in search of Harry. We searched all over the corridors before we finally saw him sprinting toward us.

"Harry!" said Hermione at once, looking very frightened. "What happened?"

"Are you alright?" I questioned.

"Where have you been?" demanded Ron.

"Come with me," Harry said quickly. "Come on, I've got to tell you something. . . ."

He led us along the first-floor corridor, until at last found an empty classroom and pulled us inside.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

My heart dropped. No words could escape my lips. I was frozen in fear.

"What?"

"How d'you — ?"

"Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam."

"But — but where? How?" said Hermione, whose face was white.

"I dunno how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they're at the end of row ninety-seven . . . He's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there. . . . He's torturing him. . . . Says he'll end by killing him . . ."

We all fell silent. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. My own father... about to be murdered by You-Know-Who...

"How're we going to get there?" Harry asked.

There was a moment's silence.

Then Ron said, "G-get there?"

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius!" Harry said loudly.