Hogwarts in April.
Something more suffocating than potion fumes filled the air-the spores of knowledge and the crushing weight of honor.
At the breakfast tables in the Great Hall, the rustle of parchment had replaced the usual clamor.
"Big Transfiguration exam next Monday, Potions on Wednesday, Charms on Friday."
A Ravenclaw girl recited the schedule, her eyes bloodshot. She had taken one bite of her croissant, then forgotten it on her plate.
"Professor McGonagall said there'll be practical Transfiguration this year. I haven't even finished memorizing the theory..."
"Stop complaining."
The boy beside her did not even look up, his fingers racing across his notes.
"Have you seen those Beauxbatons students? They were already in the library at five this morning. I saw them when I went to save a seat."
Not far away, several Beauxbatons girls in pale blue uniforms were elegantly leafing through their notes. Their movements resembled ballet dancers', but they were as fast as though they had cast an Acceleration Charm.
One of the blonde girls looked up and said, loudly enough to be heard:
"Oh, the poor Hogwarts students. They've turned studying into gladiatorial combat. At Beauxbatons, we place more emphasis on the artistry of magic..."
"Really?"
A Gryffindor seventh-year abruptly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot.
"I bet your artistic Vine Growth Charm couldn't stop an Unforgivable Curse."
The Beauxbatons girl went pale and immediately shut her mouth.
The atmosphere throughout the hall was as taut as a string about to snap.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron was howling in despair over an essay drowned in red ink.
"Look at this!"
He held the parchment up in front of Harry and Hermione.
"Professor McGonagall's automatic grading quill drew a crying teapot at the end of my essay! What's that supposed to mean? A public