Forbidden [d.m.] || rewritten

chapter 15

Rows upon rows of desks line up in the Great Hall in a checkerboard format. This was the day that all fifth-years were dreading. This is what we spent months studying and cramming up late in our common rooms for. This is what Hermione has been thinking about ever since she got her bloody Hogwarts letter.

I sat among the other students in my year with my O.W.L. exam in front of me. This was the test that would influence my future for many years to come. Last night, the Gryffindor common room was quite the scene.

Hermione, Harry, and I quizzed each other in Charms by asking each other questions from our textbooks. Hermione was so sleep-deprived that she whacked my brother in the face with the book when she tried checking her answer. Ron, on the other hand, sat by himself on the staircase reading two year's worth of material.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan reviewed our material by reciting definitions and terms from the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5. Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown were making their quills race each other on the table by the fireplace to practice Charms. And then there was Neville making his toad do cartwheels. It was mayhem.

I wasn't worried so much about the written part of the exam as I was for the practical part of it. My mind instantly thought of worst-case scenario, thinking something could go horribly wrong when I perform my spell.

Nonetheless, I peered over to my right and saw Ron playing with the feathers of his quill and Hermione blowing through her exam. Through the painful silence in the room, I feel a pair of eyes boring hole through my skin. I nonchalantly turned my head to the side and met eyes with Draco Malfoy a few desks down. Christ, the tension between us is astronomical.

I dismissed his glare and continued to focus on the paper in front of me.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚅𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜?

Easy. Red.

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖?

Ah. Hermione asked me this one last night. Felix Summerbee.

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖?

Bombarda. Anyone knew that.

As I directed my quill to the next question, a loud rumbling noise diverted my focus from my exam. All of the fifth-years turned away from their exams, surveying the door where the sound was coming from. The clicking of Umbridge's heels on the cement floor echoed across the Hall as she stood up from her throne and started towards the door to examine what was thundering outside.

The short and stout lady hesitantly pushed open the doors and peered down both directions of the corridor. Harry sent me an apprehensive glance from his seat. The silence seemed to grow louder as everyone had their eyes on Umbridge at the entrance.

Everyone flinched at the sight of a minuscule spark floating by the High inquisitor's face and proceeding to go off in the air. Is that— No. I would recognize those anywhere.

Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs.

Enchanted fireworks created by none other than Fred and George Weasley themselves. This was their rebellion— their big send-off. This was going to ensue chaos. God, I loved them.

A few moments of silence passed by before bang sounded, followed by a whistle and spark of pink. Sheets of paper flew up from our desks as Fred and George soared in on their brooms with fireworks and wands in hand. The exams went up in the air and created an utter mess as the room became filled with colors and glitter and flares.