Afternoon.
The easy moments were over, and everyone's attention turned to the coming exams.
Everyone raced against the clock.
The library smelled of parchment and ink, and the atmosphere was a little tense.
"Harry, do we have to do this now?"
Ron kept his voice low, his head almost buried in a pile of fungus charts, his face full of misery.
"The History of Magic exam is in two days, and I haven't even memorized all the dates of the Goblin Rebellions. If I fail, Mrs. Molly Weasley will skin me and turn my hide into boots for Bill."
As he complained, he scratched his messy red hair with the bare end of his quill.
Hermione sat opposite him, books piled high in front of her.
She was rapidly writing something from memory on parchment and corrected him without looking up:
"It was 1612, Ron. If you don't want to be skinned, eat less of that Pepperup Potion Fred gave you and spend more time reading."
"It's candy!"
Ron protested quietly.
"All right, stop arguing."
Harry closed the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four in his hands. His eyes no longer held their usual evasiveness when faced with exams; instead, he clenched his fists, as though he had made up his mind.
That look made Ron feel a little uneasy. The last time Harry had looked like that, he had been preparing to stir up trouble.
"I have something more important to do."
Harry stood up and stuffed his books haphazardly into his bag.
"It has to do with how we beat... him."
"Him?"
Ron froze for a moment. The quill in his hand dropped onto the table with a clack, splashing ink onto Hermione's freshly written essay.
"You mean... You-Know-Who?"
"Ron!"
Hermione looked at her essay in dismay, drew