meant to be (1)

50

In years to come, I would never quite remember how I had managed to get through all my 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 swelteringly 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 tap-dance across a desk.

Professor McGonagall watched us turn a mouse into a snuff-box - points were given for how pretty the snuff-box 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 noticed that Harry was always grabbing his forehead, to be precise his scar. I had the suspicion that his scar was still hurting. He also seemed very exhausted and tired all the time. Neville told me that he doesn't sleep at night and that he thinks he's got exams nerves. I, on the other hand, had the feeling that it was because of what happened in the Forbidden Forest.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry and I had seen in the Forest, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry and I.

The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but  they were so busy with their revision 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 self-stirring 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.

'That was far easier than I thought it would be!" said Hermione, as we joined crowds flocking out into the sunny grounds. 'I needn't have learnt about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager!'

Hermione and I always liked to go through our exam papers afterwards, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so we ranted down to the lake and hopped under a tree.

Mason, Fred, Geoege and Lee were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.

"No more revision!" 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.

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

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"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!"

Harry nodded, but he didn't seem any relaxed. He tried to explain to us that he keeps thinking that he forgot to do something important.

"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!" Hermione said.

I couldn't help but feel slightly worried. Harry's scar hurting had definitely nothing to do with the exams or being ill.

We watched an owl flutter towards the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth, when Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.