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DRACO'S EUPHORIA AT CATCHING THE SNITCH quickly disappeared because 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. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the O.W.L.s from Este's mind. She had been spending hours in the Library, had paid more visits to Madam Pomfrey than in her past years at Hogwarts, and her nose had bled so much she was sure it would run out of blood soon, and her area of the dorm room she shared was littered with unfinished cups of coffee and tiny little cigarette buds.
She was not the only person acting oddly as the O.W.L.s drew steadily nearer. 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 Este and Atlas as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.
"I dunno," said Este. "A few . . ."
"More or less than eight?"
"Less, I s'pose," said Este, looking slightly alarmed.
"I'm doing eight," said Ernie, "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 —" Este was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital.
Meanwhile, Draco 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. . . ."
"Fucking liar," Este scowled, "Everyone knows Griselda's friends with Grandmother and is on friendly terms with Narcissa," Este remembered how she still sometimes went over to the lady's house to pet-sit her cat.
Meanwhile, a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility, and wakefulness had sprung up in the fifth and seventh years. Theodore and Mattheo were much tempted by the bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir offered to them by Ravenclaw sixth-year Eddie Carmichael, who swore it was solely responsible for the nine "Outstanding" O.W.L.s he had gained the previous summer and was offering the whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. But before they could close the deal, Este had confiscated the bottle from Carmichael and poured the contents down a toilet.
