I May have helped an Evil Wizard. (rewrite)

Planning something, Potter?

In the years to come, Pansy Parkinson would say that getting through the exams in her first year was the hardest thing she had ever done. While not quite true, it would hold a fairly high rank.

With the stone-situation they were facing, the spying on various teachers (mainly Draco's fault) and the expecting someone to come barging in to the examination classroon and murder Harriet or anyone else, it wasn't easy.

She had grown to fear the old wizard who seemed to be connected to everything. Until a short while ago, Pansy had only thought of Dumbledore as an insane old man. Now, after more observation and several stories she'd heard, she was terrified.

Pansy was entirely convinced Dumbledore was threatening the teachers so they would help him guard the stone. Or perhaps they owed him. Either way, it was horrible. Harriet thought so too.

The classrooms they took exams in were never the right temperature. Either too hot or too cold, they made it difficult to concentrate. Other disturbing factors included the ticking of the clock on the wall which sounded so much louder all of a sudden. The squeak of whoever was invigilating's cheap leather shoes didn't help.

They had been given new quills as well. Bewitched with an anti-cheating spell and the kind that you couldn't write properly with.

Practical exams were even more nerve wracking. Harriet had found a sympathetic soul in Neville, who seemed to fear being punished for doing something wrong almost as much as she did.

Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox. Extra points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but they were taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. Harriet was sure that, had the exam been any longer, she would have vomited in hers.

They all did the best they could.

Harriet trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her forehead, which had been bothering her ever since she had seen Dumbledore threatening Quirrell. 

It had been a monday afternoon. She had been walking back to her common room, minding her own business, when  she had seen Dumbledore walking out of the classroom, seemingly in a good mood. Sobbing had been coming out of the room when she had swept past it. Peering in, she had seen Dumbledore muttering something to Quirrel, who looked petrified.

She ducked behind a statue when Dumbledore turned to leave. He swept past her hiding spot, humming a tune that was far too jolly to mean anything good.

Pansy thought Harriet had a bad case of exam nerves because Harriet couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harriet kept being woken by nightmares.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about some not-so-famous old, dead wizards who'd invented selfstirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for one week until the results came out.

Harriet was sure she would be stressing about that later.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Harriet as they 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 and Harriet always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Blaise made a vomiting sound and announced this made him want to puke. And so, they wandered down to the lake and flopped down under a willow tree.

The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. Harriet snorted a laugh when lee was slapped by one.