Suddenly, Umbridge raised her voice, her words ringing across the hall:
"So, if the results of this diagnostic test are unsatisfactory, the Ministry of Magic will consider adding a new course to Hogwarts... Oh, and the Minister has already discussed this with the Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Indeed, I find the prospect of this new course rather fascinating..."
Douglas shot Umbridge a sidelong glance. It was clear—the honeymoon between Dumbledore and Fudge was over. For now, though, both sides were keeping things civil, using these 'gentle' interventions to jockey for control of Hogwarts. No doubt Dumbledore had his own plans in motion.
Seeing no one object, Umbridge beamed. "So, how does Hogwarts plan to arrange the first W.O.M.B.A.T. diagnostic test? Every student must participate!"
Professor McGonagall considered for a moment. "Let's hold it after the other exams are finished on Friday. I don't want this interfering with students' revision time for their other subjects."
A flicker of annoyance passed over Umbridge's face. She was just about to insist that this test was as important as any other, but Douglas quickly stepped in to support McGonagall's decision. The other professors chimed in with their agreement.
Seeing the Hogwarts faculty so united behind McGonagall, Umbridge plastered on her trademark saccharine smile and turned to the silent Dumbledore. "Oh, this scene almost made me forget—you're the Headmaster."
Dumbledore shrugged, his tone sincere. "Of course I support Minerva's decision, Minister Umbridge!"
With that, Umbridge had the W.O.M.B.A.T. papers collected, stressing that the contents were to remain strictly confidential.
As classes approached, Professor McGonagall arranged for all fifth- and seventh-years to take their exams in the Great Hall, following the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. formats. She asked Lupin to supervise the Transfiguration exams for the lower years in her stead, as she needed to oversee the mock exam in the hall.
—
Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
After being tricked by Douglas in several previous exams, every student was now taking their answers very seriously.
Watching them, Douglas was quite satisfied. For once, he'd set a straightforward exam—after all, it was the end-of-term test, and he wanted a true measure of their abilities.
To the delight of the lower years, once the written exam finished, Douglas announced that their practical exam was cancelled; their grades would be based on their performance throughout the term.
He had little choice. Lupin's previous fitness test had already turned most of the lower years' Dark Creature curriculum into practical challenges, and many students had done well. Repeating the same tasks would be pointless.
He'd considered switching the practical to magical dueling, but with Ministry officials—especially Umbridge—still at Hogwarts, he decided against it. For fourth years and above, however, the practical exams would be far from easy.
Thanks to Douglas's guidance, the seventh-years running the practical classrooms had become remarkably inventive. If he hadn't insisted that every challenge remain within the magical abilities of the relevant year, some fourth-year practicals would have stumped even seventh-years.
For students, the hardest part wasn't the content itself, but that the practical classroom changed every time they entered. Find a loophole once, and the next time it would be gone—or worse, turned into a trap.
In the Dark Arts practicals, there was no room for tricks or shortcuts—only raw skill mattered.
Exam week passed in a tense blur.
The W.O.M.B.A.T. tests and the fifth- and seventh-year papers were collected by Ministry officials.
—
Sunday evening.
With the holidays beginning the next day, all four house common rooms were filled with laughter and late-night chatter.
At ten o'clock, a voice echoed through the castle—the voice of Peeves, who had been missing for a week and was nearly forgotten.
"Douglas Holmes!"
Hearing Peeves, Douglas cast a Sonorus Charm and replied coolly, "What is it?"
Peeves' voice sounded as though he were being strangled. After a long pause, he squeaked, "Professor, I was wrong!"
With that, Peeves shot a glance at the strange new building behind him and vanished out of the castle.
The three house common rooms that heard the exchange erupted in laughter.
—
Monday morning, eight o'clock—the Hogwarts Express pulled out right on time.
Not long after the train's departure, the Charon Detective Agency summoned all students staying for the holidays to gather in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
Hermione stood at the front of the room. "Actually, we've uncovered some important clues..."
"We've found traces of Peter Pettigrew..."
George and Fred cut her off, "Actually—"
"—we found him first—"
Hermione ignored them and continued, "According to Professor Holmes' instructions, Christmas is our deadline for this project... So, after discussing, we've decided to hold our final meeting tomorrow morning at nine, right here. We'll bring Peter Pettigrew with us..."
Harry stepped forward. "I just want to say—there might be a fight. Or maybe not..."
The students around them finally registered the name Peter Pettigrew.
Someone asked, bewildered, "Are you joking? Weren't we investigating Black? Why is it suddenly Peter Pettigrew? He's dead—did you find his ghost?"
"Yeah, I thought Peter Pettigrew was the hero who defeated Black. Why would there be a fight? And our magic doesn't even work on ghosts, does it?"
"That's because your magic doesn't work on ghosts. Us older students have ways... Heh, just stand behind your big sister, kid."
Harry glanced at Hermione, and seeing her nod, explained, "Actually, it was Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw who suggested... well, she's gone home for the holidays... Anyway, she once wondered if the Secret-Keeper for the Fidelius Charm could have been switched..."
A Ravenclaw girl piped up, "You actually believe that loony girl? Well, I'll admit, she does come up with some wild ideas. They sound strange, but don't forget—Charon Detective Agency is all about drawing reasonable conclusions from evidence. Did you get some key clue from Peter Pettigrew's ghost?"
In the end, with the possibility that Scabbers might be Peter still on the table, they convinced the dozen or so remaining members to join the meeting the next day.
Afterwards, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the twins gathered together.
"We need to find the Professor and ask him to help wake Scabbers up."
George and Fred exchanged odd looks and shook their heads. "Actually, Scabbers ran out of pet food two days ago. He snapped out of it for a bit, but before we could question him—"
Ron looked at them suspiciously. "You didn't just question him, did you? Didn't you use the Human-Revealing Spell to check if he was really Peter Pettigrew?"
The twins shared a mischievous grin. "Oh, we restored him, all right—"
"A short, chubby old man..."
"Poor Percy and Ron..."
"Cuddled up with an old man for ages..."
Ron instantly regretted asking. He'd tried to prepare himself, but hearing again that Scabbers was really an old man still made his skin crawl.
Hermione glared at the twins. "Stop picking on Ron. I heard you both grumbling yesterday that the cage suddenly wouldn't open."
George and Fred shrugged. "That's our Miss Know-It-All for you..."
"Why are you always sneaking around behind us, eavesdropping?"
"Well, it's true—the cage really won't open these past two days."
"So if we want to turn him back into a human tomorrow, we'll need the Professor's help..."
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