𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐞 | ʜ. ᴊ. ᴘ. [ hiatus ]

• 𝐀 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 •

❾¾ ⌁☍ ♪ ‹ 𝓶𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓬𝓮 › ♪ ☍⌁¾❾

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he 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 sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

"Look at you, playing with you cards. Pathetic." Hermione spat to Ron as the four of them studied in the Great Hall.

Ron simply looked at her mockily.

"We've got final exams coming up soon." Hermione rised an eyebrow.

"I'm ready, ask me any question." Ron said simply.

Harry and Mal look at each other then let out tired sigh, knowing this is going to be a long argue, again.

"Here we go again." Harry whispered to Mal next to him. Mal chuckled softly nodded her head.

"All right, what are the three most crucial ingredients in Forgetfulness Potion?" Hermione quizzed Ron.

Ron lowered his head.

"Forgot." He said shortly.

Mal and Harry chuckled softly.

"And what may I ask do your plan to do if this coming up in the final exams?" Hermione said bossily.

"Copy off you." Ron mockingly.

"No. You. Won't." Hermione snapped in emphasis. "Besides, according to Professor McGonagall we've always been given special quills for which with an Anti-Cheating spell."

"That's insulting, it's in if they don't trust us." Ron whined at Mal.

Mal just shrugged and Harry shook his head.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk.

Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers, Mal is the only student who gets excellent grades and extra boarding points.

Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest.

Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now
worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron, Mal and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry.

The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out.