Final exams crept closer as the days grew warmer.
For Harry, of course, they seemed to be racing toward him.
He had to stay on edge in case Voldemort suddenly sprang from some dark corner and killed him. He had to anxiously memorize all sorts of bizarre, dense facts for every subject. And he had to listen to Hermione and Eliana quiz each other on the most fiendish questions. Whenever Harry heard them, he thought they might not be trying to test each other so much as finish each other off.
Neither of the two sparring girls had been finished off, but the two bystanders were practically corpses.
"Come on, mate, let's get out of here," Ron said to Harry, his head spinning. "What are they even asking? Who invented the Self-Stirring Cauldron? Would they really put that on the exam? What's the point? Don't we still stir cauldrons by hand?"
Harry promptly packed his bag.
When he saw that very question on the History of Magic exam, he wanted to beat up his past self for running away.
That'll teach you to take your chances! That'll teach you not to take it seriously! That'll teach you to run! What did you even grow those two legs for?
In his mind, Harry strung himself up and gave himself a thrashing.
He stared at the letters on the exam paper, straining to remember the name Eliana and Hermione had mentioned.
He tried to concentrate, but Ron's "Don't we still stir cauldrons by hand?" kept whirling and bouncing around inside his head.
He gave up and started making up names as soon as his quill touched the paper: Radoska Wright; Thomson Hill; Ronald... That last one was definitely wrong.
Harry crossed it out.
The practical exams went a little better. As Eliana