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Chapter 682: Final Exams
🕑 Added 2025-04-06 12:36:35 +0000 UTCOn the first Sunday of June, Dumbledore, absent from Hogwarts for quite some time, finally returned. That evening, he entered the Great Hall during dinner, accompanied by a group of elderly witches and wizards.
The unexpected visitors immediately drew the attention of the students.
“Who are they?”
“I think they’re the examiners...”
“I know! That’s Professor Marchbanks, the oldest member of the Ministry of Magic’s Wizarding Examinations Authority.”
A buzz of speculation rippled through the hall.
Kyle’s gaze instinctively fell on Dumbledore’s hands. To his relief, while they still appeared dry and wrinkled, resembling straw encased in skin, they hadn’t turned black, and no strange rings adorned his fingers. Kyle exhaled softly, reassured.
His attention shifted to the other wizards accompanying Dumbledore. Professor Tofty, an unsteady old wizard, seemed the most frail.
Though he looked ancient, he had only recently celebrated his 100th birthday and was considered relatively young in this company. Kyle remembered him from the previous year’s Charms and Herbology exams.
Professor Marchbanks, on the other hand, appeared unchanged. Her face, with its labyrinth of wrinkles, seemed impervious to further lines—it was hard to tell if age had added any more. Despite her advanced years, she appeared energetic, engaging in lively conversation with Dumbledore.
“It was a pleasant journey. We’ve been here many times before,” she said, surveying the hall. Then, in a loud voice, she asked, “I heard you wanted to run against Cornelius for Minister of Magic once. Is that true?”
“I think you’ve been misinformed,” Dumbledore replied with a calm smile. “My only wish is to be a good headmaster for Hogwarts. I lack the energy for additional responsibilities.”
He continued, “Honestly, the school’s demands are quite overwhelming. Sometimes I even feel relieved to have stepped down from the International Confederation of Wizards—a decision that has granted me two extra hours of sleep every night.”
“Albus, you’re still young! You can’t think about shirking your duties,” Professor Marchbanks chided.
Her comment left the onlookers bemused. While her statement was technically accurate—she was over 130 years old herself—the juxtaposition with Dumbledore’s gray beard and venerable appearance made it an odd remark. Most students exchanged puzzled glances, unsure whether to laugh or remain silent.
“You’re absolutely right,” Dumbledore agreed, nodding politely. “Would you care for a cup of tea? Or perhaps something to eat?”
“Tea will suffice,” Professor Marchbanks said. “We ate on the way here.”
With that, Dumbledore escorted the visitors to the staff common room.
Meanwhile, the Great Hall buzzed with tension. The presence of the Wizarding Examinations Authority had created a palpable sense of dread, particularly among the fifth and seventh years.
That night, few students managed much sleep. Common room lights stayed on well past midnight as everyone crammed feverishly.
The following morning marked the beginning of the exams for the fifth and seventh years.
At breakfast, Justin sat clutching a book, muttering under his breath, while Susan and Hannah, seated nearby, quizzed each other from the Standard Book of Spells to ensure they had memorized it correctly.
“What do you guys have first today?” Kyle asked as he slid into a seat beside Cedric.
“Charms,” Cedric replied.
Even Cedric seemed on edge, his hand trembling slightly as he spread jam on his bread.
“Hang in there,” Kyle said, giving Cedric an encouraging pat on the shoulder before heading to class.
The sixth-year exams were scheduled a week after those for the fifth and seventh years, ensuring all students finished at the same time. However, to prevent cheating during the fifth-years' OWLs, the professors enforced strict measures, including taking attendance three times in nearly every class to ensure no one left unnoticed.
This vigilance was particularly intense for students with outstanding grades like Kyle and Kanna. During a Transfiguration lesson, Professor McGonagall seemed so focused on them that she nearly took a seat beside them to observe more closely.
After class, part of the corridor leading to the OWL examination room was cordoned off, with lines drawn on the floor by wands to track anyone crossing unauthorized. By midday, three students had been penalized, each losing twenty points. If they had been sixth years, the consequences would have been harsher, with points deducted even more severely and possible detention.
For Kyle, the days that followed were no easier. Professors appeared to target him in every class, assigning tasks seemingly designed to confirm his identity and abilities, likely to ensure he wasn’t an imposter under the influence of Polyjuice Potion.
“It feels like they’re the ones sitting for exams, but why do I feel like I’m the one in the exam room?” Kyle muttered after their final Transfiguration class on Friday.
Throughout the week, he had been made to perform numerous challenging Charms daily, revisiting almost everything he had learned and even venturing into spells beyond the standard curriculum. In the most recent Transfiguration lesson, Professor McGonagall had required him to demonstrate three Transfiguration spells, even though one was a second-degree Transfiguration spell that was only taught in seventh year.
“If I were a professor, I’d do the same thing,” Kanna said matter-of-factly. “They’re making sure you’re not helping any fifth-year students cheat on their OWLs.”
“Who could I possibly help?” Kyle shrugged. “It’s not like Harry or Ron could afford my appearance fee.”
“So you would help if they could pay you?” Kanna raised an eyebrow.
“No way. I was joking,” Kyle replied, shaking his head. “Besides, Professor Marchbanks may be old, but her eyesight is still sharp, and she has plenty of experience. Even Tonks, a Metamorphmagus, couldn’t fool her, let alone Dumbledore. I’d have to be out of my mind to try helping someone cheat.”
Incidentally, Tonks had returned to the Ministry of Magic on the first day of exams, and the other assistant, Twycross, had other commitments and couldn’t attend. This left Professor McGonagall covering Defence Against the Dark Arts for the week.
Snape had been keen to take on the role, but Dumbledore seemed to have vetoed the idea. Recently, Snape had been walking around with a perpetually sour expression, as if everyone owed him a hundred Galleons.
With no exams scheduled over the weekend, most students took the opportunity to catch up on their studies.
Kyle had intended to speak with Dumbledore but wasn’t sure if the Headmaster was avoiding him or had left the castle again. He had knocked on the door on the eighth floor for half the day without receiving a response. Without the password, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s Office refused to budge. Frustrated, Kyle grabbed a painting from elsewhere in the castle and affixed it to the gargoyle’s head with a Permanent Sticking Charm.
“Come back here, you despicable thief! You nasty little sneak!” bellowed Sir Cadogan, whose portrait had been forcibly relocated. Ignoring the knight’s protests, Kyle made his way back to the Hufflepuff common room.
The atmosphere there was the most studious it had been all year, with the sounds of recitation and reading filling every corner. Still, exceptions remained—like Mikel and Ryan, who sat in a corner, completely unbothered, engrossed in a game of wizard chess.
"We're revising too," Mikel said with a straight face. "Because only when I'm playing chess does my brain feel active enough, and the sound of everyone else revising just flows into my ears automatically."
Kyle blinked at Mikel’s earnest expression. This so-called method of revision was unlike anything he had ever heard before. It was truly an eye-opener.
By Monday, exams for the other grades had begun as well. The first subject for the sixth years was Charms.
The theory exam was as straightforward as ever, and Kyle completed it in just twenty minutes. Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed to leave early and had to sit quietly until the exam period ended.
The practical exam followed, and as Kyle waited in line to enter the exam room, he noticed a group of fifth-years descending the stairs. It seemed their exam had already finished.
When his turn came, Professor Flitwick glanced at him briefly and marked a large circle on the parchment.
“Well, you’ve passed,” he said with a cheerful smile. “I’ve tested you on everything I could think of over the past week, and you handled it all without trouble. Didn’t you?”
Kyle nodded, a little amused.
“Good. Now, go fetch the next person.”
Kyle took a leisurely stroll around the classroom before stepping out.
Later that afternoon, the Transfiguration exam awaited. Unlike Flitwick, Professor McGonagall was much stricter. While she also awarded Kyle a perfect score as soon as he entered the room, she still made him go through all the formalities.
On Tuesday, during the Potions exam, Kyle felt confident in the Antidote to Common Poisons he had brewed. However, with Snape glaring at him coldly throughout the process, Kyle couldn’t be certain he’d receive a high mark. Snape’s piercing gaze felt less like an assessment of his skills and more like a personal vendetta—likely tied to his failed attempt to substitute for Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Wednesday’s Ancient Runes exam had the smallest group of students, with fewer than ten participants. Professor Babbling appeared utterly uninterested in supervising, her head bobbing as though she were on the verge of sleep.
Cheating wasn’t much of a concern anyway, as the exam content was so obscure it wouldn’t help to look up answers in the textbook. Guessing seemed like a more practical strategy.
For Defence Against the Dark Arts, the Wizarding Examinations Authority sent a substitute invigilator since the teaching assistants were unavailable. A plump witch with a constant smile oversaw the exam. Despite her friendly demeanor, she was quick to catch rule-breakers. She apprehended three students attempting to bring magical contraband into the exam room.
One of them had hidden a magical item in the sole of his shoe.
“You’ve been walking too lightly on your left foot. It’s obvious you’re hiding something there,” she said kindly but firmly. “Take it out and dispose of it now, or I’ll have to mark you as cheating if you enter the room.”
The student flushed red, hung his head, and slunk into the next classroom, his plans thwarted.
The final exam was History of Magic. The monotony of this subject had remained unchanged over six years, making it almost emblematic of Hogwarts. Surviving this dreary exam marked the end of the grueling exam season.
Yet, an unusual incident occurred during the fifth-years’ History of Magic exam.
Harry Potter had reportedly fainted in the middle of the test, muttering unintelligible phrases.
"Potter kept saying, 'Stop... don’t touch him... run...'" Susan recounted outside the castle grounds as she described the scene.
“He looked like he’d fallen asleep and started dreaming. Mr. Tofty wanted to take him to the Hospital Wing, but Potter insisted he was fine,” she added.
“It’s probably just stress,” Hannah suggested with a sigh. “I’ve been having nightmares too—dreams about failing every exam. That sort of pressure is terrifying.”
Despite the oddity of the incident, it didn’t attract much attention. With exams finally over, everyone was eagerly anticipating the upcoming two-month holiday, and not even Harry or Voldemort could dampen their spirits.
Kyle, however, was unsettled. After hearing about the incident, he headed straight to the Headmaster’s office on the eighth floor.
The portrait he had affixed to the gargoyle’s head was gone. The gargoyle seemed amused, shrugging as though mocking him.
Kyle narrowed his eyes, briefly considering whether to replace the portrait with a toilet seat. Before he could act, the gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the passageway behind it.
Startled but not wasting any time, Kyle hurried up the spiral staircase. As he ascended, faint voices echoed from the office above.
Reaching the oak door, he paused, the voices now clearer.
“Headmaster, I really saw it! Voldemort has Sirius, and he’s planning to steal something from the Department of Mysteries. I…”
“Calm down, Harry.” Dumbledore shook his head, cutting him off gently. “As far as I know, Sirius is currently elsewhere, assisting Alastor. He hasn’t been captured by Voldemort. He’s safe.”
“But…” Harry started, looking distressed, as though he wanted to argue further.
At that moment, the oak door creaked open, and Kyle stepped into the office.
“Oh, I was wondering when you’d arrive,” Dumbledore said, glancing at him with a faint smile. “To be honest, I’m not much of a fan of Sir Cadogan. He’s a bit too… spirited. Perhaps next time you could select a less boisterous painting.”
“I will,” Kyle replied with a small nod.
“Good,” Dumbledore said, turning his attention back to Harry. “Now, Harry, I suggest you take some time to walk the grounds with your friends and enjoy the approaching holidays. As I said, Sirius is safe."
“And don’t forget why I asked you to study Occlumency. Perhaps this vision is precisely what Voldemort wants you to see.”
Harry let out a reluctant sigh, seeming to suppress his frustration. “Okay. Goodbye, Headmaster.”
With that, he turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.
Once Harry was gone, Kyle frowned. “Professor, didn’t Harry already learn Occlumency? How is he still having these dreams?”
“I don’t think he followed my advice to study it more deeply,” Dumbledore replied, his tone tinged with mild disappointment. “And Occlumency at a basic level isn’t very effective.”
“So, what he saw—was it fake?”
“It could have been real,” Dumbledore admitted, drumming his fingers lightly on the desk. “In fact, I haven’t been able to contact Sirius or Alastor directly. For now, I must wait for their reply.”
“Why not use a phoenix?” Kyle asked, glancing over at Fawkes, perched nearby.
“You need to understand something, Kyle.” Dumbledore shook his head. “A phoenix is not a messenger. It can only deliver letters to a known location. In many cases, an owl is better suited for such tasks.”
Satisfied with the explanation, Dumbledore gave Kyle an expectant look. “So, what brings you here today?”
Kyle hesitated, tempted to revisit Harry’s vision, but decided against it. Instead, he asked, “Professor, what’s going on with that signature of yours? I’m only a sixth-year student. Why did you agree to let me work at the Ministry of Magic?”
“Oh, that,” Dumbledore said, chuckling softly. “You don’t need to thank me—it’s the least I could do.”
Kyle’s eyes narrowed. Did his tone make it sound like he was thanking him?
“And,” Dumbledore continued, “you’ll be a seventh-year next year. Working at the Ministry of Magic is an excellent opportunity. Fudge’s offer is remarkable. In two centuries, no one has ever been appointed as Senior Assistant to the Minister for Magic while still a student, and with a full salary, no less. You’re the first.”
“As Headmaster, I had no reason to refuse. Besides, I consulted your father about this matter, and he agreed wholeheartedly.”
Kyle’s mouth twitched slightly. He hadn’t realized his father had been involved in the arrangement. Apparently, he was the only one kept in the dark until the official announcement had been made.
