THE WITCHING HOUR ➸ h. potter

15 - taking action

In years to come, I would never quite remember how we had managed to get through our exams when I 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 we did our written papers. We had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-cheating spell.

We had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called us one by one into his class to see if we could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched us turn a mouse into a snuffbox - points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made us all nervous, breathing down our necks while we tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

I did however much I could - trying my best at everything, staying up way past bedtime - reading up on anything and everything I could have possibly missed. But still - it was really hard to focus on studies with the fear of Voldemort coming back and Harry being in danger.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry and I had in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads all the time like I knew Harry did, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as us. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams like he did for me, 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.

Our very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented selfstirring cauldrons and we'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until our exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told us to put down our quills and roll up our parchment, I couldn't help cheering with the rest of the students.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as we 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."

Hermione always liked to go through our exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so we wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree instead. 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, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

Harry was rubbing his forehead again.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting - it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

I couldn't help agreeing with her. "It could help - Harry. You should at least try."

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning. . . it means danger's coming. . ."

"Harry, 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." Ron said.

Harry nodded, but he told us he couldn't seem shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important.

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."