human again / hp.

Chapter 104

The blackboard filled itself line by line, listing dates and subjects in perfect cursive script, each letter a nail in the coffin of my remaining sanity.

I scribbled furiously in my planner, my handwriting slanted and rushed. My quill scratched across the parchment, barely keeping up with McGonagall's dictation. Around me, the air buzzed with whispers and low groans—Dean muttering something sarcastic, Hermione practically vibrating with anticipation, and Ron already slumped in defeat. But I blocked it all out.

I had no room for distraction.

McGonagall's voice rang out, sharp and clear:

"As you can see, your O.W.L.s are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory exams in the mornings and the practical in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night."

I could already feel the schedule etching itself into my brain, as if the mere thought of it was burning itself into place. I didn't need a Remembrall. I didn't need Self-Correcting Ink.

I needed perfection.

"Now, I must warn you," McGonagall continued, pacing in front of the board with a pinched look on her face, "that the most stringent Anti-Cheating Charms have been applied to your examination papers."

I didn't look up. I knew better than to cheat. Cheating was for people who could afford to get caught. I couldn't afford anything less than complete, earned success.

"Auto-Answer Quills are banned, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs, and Self-Correcting Ink," she went on. "Every year, I'm afraid to say, seems to harbor at least one student who thinks they can get around the rules."

Her eyes passed briefly over the Slytherins and then the Gryffindors. I kept mine fixed on my page.

"I can only hope it is nobody in Gryffindor," she added with a pointed glance at the red-and-gold end of the room.

And then, with thinly veiled disdain:

"Our new headmistress"—the word dripped from her mouth like poison—"has asked the Heads of House to inform students that cheating will be punished most severely... because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon her new regime."

That earned a few snickers. I didn't laugh.

I saw the way McGonagall's nostrils flared, her composure cracking just for a heartbeat. She was holding the school together with sheer force of will, and I respected her more for it than I'd ever admit aloud.

"However," she finished, quieter now, "that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about."

I pressed my quill harder into the parchment.

My future.

Not my father's. Not Draco's. Not the Ministry's or the Dark Lord's. Mine.

"Professor," Hermione piped up, hand raised, "when will we find out our results?"

"An owl will be sent to you some time in July," McGonagall replied, her voice stiff.

"Excellent," Dean muttered under his breath. "So we don't have to worry about it till the holidays..."

I closed my planner slowly, hands trembling ever so slightly.

The first exam was Charms—Monday morning.

Today was Thursday.

That gave me three more days.

Three days to cram a year's worth of theory into my skull so tightly it wouldn't fall out under pressure. Three days to memorize every wand movement, every counter-charm, every incantation from the first lesson of September to the last.