The castle had been oddly calm after the concert.
Even Filch hadn't yelled in three days, which Hermione said was "either a miracle or a sign of impending apocalypse."
June had arrived. Which meant exams.
Which meant: panic, parchment, and professors with "that smile" the kind that promised suffering disguised as education.
Professor McGonagall's classroom smelled faintly of chalk, parchment, and quiet judgment.
"Remember, As I am repeating for the since the term began " she said, pacing between rows of desks, "transfiguration is not a matter of strength, but precision. Sloppiness leads to explosions, or worse a Tin your report card."
Ron muttered, "Honestly, that sounds like my future."
Hermione kicked his ankle under the desk without looking up from her notes. "Very funny, now focus Ronald."
Harry tried not to laugh, mostly because McGonagall's Animagus senses could probably detect amusement.
For theory, quills scratched furiously. Harry flew through the formulas, Beetle-to-Button conversions, the perfect curvature ratio for Avifors, and the subtle math behind long list of Gramp's Laws.
Hermione was a blur beside him, writing as if she'd studied in another dimension.
When practical's came, McGonagall folded her hands. "Begin."
Harry's Softening Charm worked perfectly as the brick on his table melted into a safe, rubbery lump.
Ron's softened too maybe perhaps too well.
It started wobbling like jelly and tried to roll off the table.
"Controlled, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall warned.
"Controlled," Ron repeated, chasing the brick with both hands, "Right, right, it's controlled chaos."
Harry stifled a snort.
Hermione's Porcupine turned into a perfect Pin Cushion, straight out of a textbook.
"Outstanding work, Miss Granger," McGonagall said warmly.
Harry's followed as equally perfect, maybe a bit shinier than usual.
McGonagall gave him a small smile the rare one. "Outstanding as well, Mr. Potter. You had your father's talent in transfiguration, though I expect you two to stop trying to outdo each other before term's end."
Ron grumbled, "Never gonna happen."
Looking at Hermione fiery eyes,
maybe he is not wrong.
-----------------------------------------
Greenhouse Three was boiling. The summer sun glared off the glass walls, and the smell of soil and mandrake fertilizer filled the air.
Professor Sprout clapped her hands. "Alright, dears! Time to show me what you've learned! Mandrakes first tho careful handling! I don't want another fainting incident."
Ron muttered, "Still my greatest achievement," and Harry elbowed him before Hermione's glare could.
Harry adjusted his earmuffs and gently pulled the Mandrake from its pot and it squealed, of course, but only for a moment before he safely tucked it into the new soil.
Smooth. Controlled.
Hermione mirrored him flawlessly.
Ron's Mandrake, on the other hand, looked genuinely offended while crying. When he stopped, It bit him.
"Ow! Professor, mine's possessed!"
Sprout took of her earmuffs and chuckled. "No, Mr. Weasley, just spirited. Like you."
Harry leaned in, voice low. "Ron, she just called your Mandrake sassy."
"Brilliant," Ron muttered. "My plant's got more attitude than me."
Harry chuckled.
-----------------------------------------
The dungeons were dim and smelled like roasted flobberworms and mild despair.
Snape glided between cauldrons like a dark bat, his voice low and slow.
"For your final practical," he said, "you will brew a Strengthening Solution and without assistance. If it turns the correct shade of cerulean… you may leave with your dignity intact."
Ron whispered, "What shade is cerulean again?"
Hermione whispered back, "The color of the sky before you fail."
Harry nearly laughed, but the risk of getting detention was too real.
He focused on measuring Flobberworm Mucus precisely, stirring thrice clockwise, twice counter. His cheat instinct carried him the way.
Steam rose blue and perfect.
Across the table, Ron's potion was… more of a brownish turquoise, bubbling aggressively.
"Er— Harry," he said nervously, "is it supposed to sound like that?"
"Not unless it's developing sentience."
Hermione's potion gleamed exactly like the textbook photo.
Snape stopped behind her, his expression unreadable. "Consistently tedious perfection, Miss Granger."
Then to Harry: "Acceptable. Barely."
Harry blinked bruh it was perfect. But that was Snape's way of saying "Outstanding, but I refuse to feed your ego."
Ron's cauldron hissed. Snape turned sharply. "Mr. Weasley, what color is that?"
Ron froze. "Uh… unique?"
Ron is not gonna leave with his dignity intact.
-----------------------------------------
The classroom was transformed with desks vanished, replaced by glowing dueling lines across the stone floor.
A dozen banners floated above the tables, each glittering with his face and the words:
"Defence Through Dazzle — Gilderoy Lockhart's Golden Rules of Heroism!"
I leaned toward Ron.
"Defence through what?"
Ron squinted. "Pretty sure dazzle's not a spell, mate."
Hermione sighed. "It's… metaphorical."
"Yeah," I muttered. "So is his talent."
At the front of the room, Lockhart stood in powder blue robes that practically screamed for attention.
His teeth shone brighter than the chandeliers.
"Good morning, my intrepid defenders!" he boomed. "Today's final exam will be… a test of courage, creativity, and composure! Oh, and of course the admiration for your humble professor."
Dean whispered, "Is that graded separately?"
Lockhart clapped his hands, and the curtains behind him swept open revealing several enchanted cages.
Inside were… Cornish pixies, a stuffed vampire dummy wearing a cape, and something that looked suspiciously like a kneazle in a wig.
Hermione groaned quietly. "Oh, honestly—"
Lockhart waved his wand with theatrical flourish. "Each of you will demonstrate at least two spells we have covered this year! Disarming, defensive, dazzling its your choice! I, naturally, will evaluate your posture, pronunciation, and panache!"
Ron whispered, "What about performance anxiety?"
"Five points from Gryffindor if I hear any grumbling!" Lockhart announced cheerfully.
Hermione went first, of course she did. She stepped up, wand steady, calm as a dueling master.
"Expelliarmus!" she called and the wand flew from the vampire dummy's hand.
Then she followed up with a perfect Fumos Duo to obscure her movement before reappearing and hitting the pixie cage with a controlled Tickling Charm.
The pixies collapsed in hysterical laughter.
Lockhart clapped. "Marvelous form! Almost as graceful as when I subdued the Werewolf of Wagga Wagga hey have I told you about—"
"—Only seven times this term," I muttered.
Hermione gave me a look that said behave.
Ron's spellwork was… enthusiastic.
His Expelliarmus worked beautifully but also sent the dummy's arm flying clear across the room.
"Er—sorry!" he called.
Lockhart laughed nervously. "Ah, yes! Overzealous passion and quite reminiscent of my own school days! I too was known for, ah, powerful wandwork!"
Ron grinned. "Must've hit your head with it once too often."
Lockhart blinked. "Pardon?"
"Nothing, sir."
Finally, my turn.
I stepped forward, wand loose in hand, feeling everyone's eyes on me.
Lockhart straightened his shoulders. "Now, Mr. Potter, I expect you to give us a true show! Fame must be maintained, after all!"
I smiled thinly. "Wouldn't want to outshine you, Professor."
Hermione groaned softly.
I raised my wand. "Expelliarmus!" and the vampire dummy's wand shot up.
Without missing a beat, I followed with Fumos Tria, thick smoke filled the airm then a sharp Verdimillious Duo, sending bright green sparks cutting through the haze.
The crowd gasped. The lights faded; the air cleared.
The dummy stood frozen mid spell, smoke curling from its sleeve.
Lockhart blinked, dazzled. "Ah—yes! Excellent flair! Quite reminiscent of—well—me!"
Ron muttered, "Sure, if you were competent."
When everyone finished, Lockhart began pacing dramatically in front of the class, cloak swirling.
"You have all been adequate!" he declared.
Hermione's face twitched.
"Some even above average! Though of course, true greatness cannot be taught, it must be lived! And I, your humble guide, have lived it generously for your benefit."
I leaned toward Ron. "Did he just give himself an Outstanding?"
Ron nodded. "And probably extra credit."
Lockhart waved his wand, scattering glitter over the room. "I hereby declare this year's Defence class, a triumph! Thanks entirely to your radiant and remarkably photogenic professor!"
Dean sneezed. "What even is this glitter made of?"
Hermione sighed, muttering, "Delusion."
By the time we left, our robes sparkled like disco balls. Ron looked down at himself and said,
"If this doesn't wash out, I'm hexing him next term."
I grinned. "Call it Defence Against the Dark Arts, practical experience."
-----------------------------------------
The theory was brutal, Memory Charms, Freezing Charms, Slowing Charms, and the proper countersequence for Engorgement Spells.
Hermione finished first, naturally.
Harry followed, just behind.
Ron… wrote something about "magic going brrr" in the margins, which no one commented on because he was trying.
For practicals, they stood before a row of pumpkins.
"Shrink them," Flitwick said brightly.
Harry's pumpkin neatly shrank to marble-size.
Hermione's followed, identical.
Ron's…shrinked and imploded.
"Well!" Flitwick said kindly. "At least it's compact now!"
Ron sighed. "I think my wand just gave up on me."
-----------------------------------------
The final exam night was peaceful, no magic, no dueling, no disasters.
Just the map of Jupiter, the telescope, and a sky so clear it looked painted.
Luna waved at them from a nearby tower, her voice faint in the breeze. "Good luck! Don't anger the stars."
Hermione frowned. "You can't anger the stars."
Luna tilted her head. "Not with that attitude."
Harry laughed quietly. "I think she's right, though."
The three of them worked in comfortable silence after that, writing coordinates, sketching Jupiter's moons, and feeling like the year had exhaled.
-----------------------------------------
When the marks came, McGonagall herself pinned the parchment to the noticeboard.
[First Place: Harry Potter — Outstanding all subjects.
First Place: Hermione Granger — Outstanding all subjects.
Third Place: Ronald Weasley — all Outstanding except Potions (Acceptable).]
Ron stared at the list. "Acceptable? Acceptable?! mom is gonna haunt me in my dreams!"
Harry clapped him on the back. "Mate, that's basically a pass from Snape. You're a legend."
Hermione added dryly, "Honestly, if Snape didn't insult you at least once, I'd suspect Polyjuice."
-----------------------------------------
Later that night, when most students were celebrating in the common room, I was summoned to Dumbledore's office.
Professor Flitwick was already there, perched on the edge of a chair, eyes gleaming.
Dumbledore smiled as I entered.
"Harry, my boy. Do sit down. We have something… rather exciting to discuss."
I sat, heart thudding. "Am I in trouble again?"
Flitwick chuckled, his voice high and bright. "Quite the opposite, Mr. Potter. You're being invited."
Dumbledore folded his hands. "The International Confederation of Wizards is hosting the Under-Sixteen European Dueling Championship this summer which is in France. Hogwarts, and indeed Magical Britain, may send one representative."
It took me a second to process. "You… want me to compete?"
Flitwick's chest puffed proudly. "Indeed! I will accompany you as your instructor and your coach. Before teaching, I was the three-time British dueling champion, you know."
I grinned. "I've heard rumors."
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "You will also be joined by your godfather, Sirius Black, as your guardian, and Professor Lupin, who has graciously agreed to assist with training. Between the three of us, I daresay you'll be in very good hands."
I couldn't help but laugh, partly from excitement, partly disbelief.
"Training with Sirius, Remus, and Professor Flitwick? That's… wow."
Flitwick hopped down from his chair, clapping his tiny hands. "Oh, we'll make quite the team! I daresay by August, you'll be ready to face anyone on the continent."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "This is not merely a competition, Harry. It is a chance to show that Hogwarts stands strong, even when the world shifts beneath our feet."
I met his gaze. "I'll make sure of it, sir."
-----------------------------------------
Back in the dormitory, as the firelight flickered low, I told Ron and Hermione about the offer.
Ron nearly dropped his chocolate frog. "You're kidding! France? For dueling?"
Hermione's eyes lit up. "That's incredible, Harry! International-level spellwork — the kind of dueling that tests your reflexes, your creativity—"
"—and your ability not to blow up the judges," Ron added.
I laughed. "I'll try not to."
Outside, the castle slept under a sky full of stars.
Tomorrow, the train would take us home, but for me, summer wouldn't mean rest.
It meant training.
And the next adventure.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
sry for not uploading the chapter yesterday, I was busy in my life well shi happens
hoe you enjoy!!
-Nine11P2