𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 | 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

12 || Through The Trapdoor

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Exams were fairly easy-mostly thanks to the many hours of studying I had done with Hermione in order to keep my mind off of the Stone-the knowledge that it could already have been stolen itched in the back of my brain, but I forced it to stay there, and tried to not let it cloud my thoughts of potions and spells.

The written exams were absolutely boring, but the practicals were much more satisfactory-for Charms, we had to make a pineapple tap dance across a desk-for Transfiguration, we had to turn a mouse into a snuff box. Snape required us to make a Forgetfulness potion, which went pretty well for me, considering I was next to Harry, who kept grimacing and rubbing the spot on his forehead where his scar lay.

Our last exam was History of Magic, which was, of course, written, and so dull I almost nodded off while filling out a venn diagram of the differences between Garrick the Gabby and Darrick the Dauntless.

When the ghost of Professor Binns told us to fold up our papers and put our quills down, the entire hall cheered with exuberance. I joined Hermione, Ron, and Harry outside on the grounds, and we flopped down underneath the shade of a willow tree, watching the twins and Lee Jordan tickle the tentacles of the giant squid that resided in the lake.

Ron said that going over exam papers made him feel ill (I felt the same) so we sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the freedom from studying and schoolwork until our results came out.

"No more studying," Ron said happily. "You could look a bit more cheerful, Harry, there's still a while until we find out how bad we've done, might as well be happy now."

Indeed, Harry looked sickly and pale, even as the sunlight filtered down through the leafy canopy above our heads.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily, rubbing his scar again. "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 brushed his hair back from his forehead and peered at his scar, which did look a bit more defined than usual. "It's like a warning...I think it means danger's coming."

Ron didn't want to get worked up in the afternoon heat.

"Harry, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down." Harry nodded, but he seemed unconvinced. Hagrid always wrote letters to Harry and I, and he'd never let us down, Ron was right...never...

At the same time, Harry and I jumped to our feet, coming to the same realization.

"We've got to go see Hagrid, now," we said together.

"Not you again," Ron moaned.

Harry ignored him, striding off towards Hagrid's hut, and I followed close behind, trailed by Hermione and an annoyed Ron.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, "That what Hagrid wants more than anything else in the world is a dragon, and a stranger comes along and just happens to have one? How many wizards carry dragon eggs if it's illegal to own one?"

"What are you talking about?" Ron said, jogging to keep up with him.

"Hagrid might have already told someone how to get to the Stone," I answered, sprinting after Harry. We reached Hagrid's hut, where he was sitting outside, shelling peas.

"Hullo," he said cheerfully. "Finished yer exams? Care fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but I shushed him while Harry began to question Hagrid about the stranger he got the dragon egg from.