Wish Upon A Star

O.W.L.s

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived, but to the fifth years this meant only one thing: Their O.W.L.s were upon them at last.

Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to reviewing those topics their teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. 

Hermione would keep mumbling to herself, now forgetting to make her elf hats. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their study habits.

"How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?" he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"I dunno," said Ron. "A few . . ."

"More or less than eight?"

"Less, I s'pose," said Ron, looking slightly alarmed.

"I'm doing eight," said Ernie, puffing out his chest. "Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eight's my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday — only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday —"

"Why would you do eight hours?" Ashlyn asked genuinely surprised. "Do you even sleep, Ernie?"

"Yes, Ashlyn!" Ernie exclaimed. "I want to know your schedule. How do you study? What's your timetable?"

"Uh, I don't have one," Ashlyn said honestly. "I just do the homework and the revision the professors give us,"

Ernie gaped at her, almost horrified.

"It won't be too difficult," Ashlyn said, slightly flustered. "If you understand the topics, you just need to skim through,"

"Skim through," Ernie said weakly. "Must be nice, being a genius. . .So, how many hours would you study?"

"Maybe two?" Ashlyn shrugged. 

Ernie let out a strange noise that sounded like he was choking.

"But Hermione has a timetable," Ashlyn said hurriedly, trying to change the topic from her study methods.

"Ah, yes, Hermione!" Ernie turned to her the brunette much to Ashlyn's relief.

The only reason Ashlyn found it easy was because she had been practising most of the fifth year portion way back from her third year itself. She only had the theory left to revise, and she knew she'd have the practicals in the bag. 

With Hermione's revision methods, the ones she forced Harry, Ron and Ashlyn to do, it would be a piece of cake. And anxiety usually sunk in at the last moment for Ashlyn, so she still had time until she started freaking out.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had found a different way to induce panic.

"Of course, it's not what you know," he was heard to tell Crabbe and Goyle loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams were to start, "it's who you know. Now, Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years — old Griselda Marchbanks — we've had her round for dinner and everything . . ."

"Do you think that's true?" Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron, looking frightened.

"Nothing we can do about it if it is," said Ron gloomily.

"He's bluffing," Ashlyn scoffed. "That's just bullshit. I bet he doesn't even know Marchbanks,"

"Yeah," said Neville quietly from behind them. "Because Griselda Marchbanks is a friend of my gran's, and she's never mentioned the Malfoys."