The June sunshine poured unreservedly over the Hogwarts grounds, making the surface of the Black Lake shimmer as though scattered with flecks of gold.
Inside the castle, however, the atmosphere had not grown any more relaxed with the bright summer weather. Instead, it resembled a bowstring stretched to its limit, liable to snap at any moment.
In the Great Hall, the long dining tables had been removed and replaced with hundreds upon hundreds of small individual desks, as orderly as ranks of soldiers awaiting inspection.
The air carried a bitter smell, mingled with the sweat of several hundred students.
The only sound was the frantic scratching of quills against parchment. Together, they sounded like a swarm of termites gnawing through dry wood, setting everyone's nerves on edge.
"Time is up. All candidates must stop writing immediately."
Professor McGonagall's stern voice echoed through the Great Hall.
Harry Potter felt as though his wrist had just been through a Quidditch match. It ached so badly he could barely have held a wand.
He put down his quill and let out a long, stale breath. Looking at the parchment covered in his discussion of the "Medieval Wizarding Assembly Law," he felt an absurd sense of fulfillment rise within him.
This was right.
The professor was right. Now that Voldemort had returned, nothing felt more reassuring than arming your mind with knowledge.
"Merlin's holey underpants..."
Beside him, Ron let out a groan of relief, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled behind them.
"I swear, I got two of the basic questions wrong. Hermione's going to kill me."
"Hermione won't kill you, but she'll give you that I-told-you-so look until you're so ashamed you want the ground to swallow you."
Harry spoke quietly as he packed his bag, but he could not