Harry Potter and the Tome of Shadows

    Chapter 2: O.W.L. Results

    “Hermione, I think it’s your turn,” Harry told her. She was busy trying to help Ron, who was holding a hand of cards and looking thoroughly bewildered.

    “I don’t understand this game,” Ron moaned. “What’s the point?”

    “Ron, try to pay attention,” Hermione sighed. “We’re playing Go Fish. Harry do you have any eights?”

    “Go fish,” Harry said.

    “So I’m trying to make pairs?” Ron asked.

    “Yes,” Hermione said in exasperation. She had been trying to teach Ron the game for a half hour now, and he was very slow in catching on.

    “Oh, well then...,” Ron shouted, and he put down his entire hand. “I had all pairs. Do I win or something?” Hermione put down her cards in disgust, while Harry was looking at Ron in shock.

    “I can’t believe it,” he muttered.

    “Believe it. I have natural talent at this game,” Ron said with a grin.

    “That’s the last time I try teaching you a muggle game,” Hermione said.

    “Just because I beat you, Hermione,” Ron gloated, putting his hands behind his head. Harry smirked, he knew that Ron would never give up the chance to show Hermione up.

    “Cards are just a game of luck,” Hermione muttered. “You got lucky on one hand.”

    “Just face it, I’m better than you in Going Fishing,” Ron said smugly.

    “It’s Go Fish, mate,” Harry whispered. Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes.

    “It’s just a silly card game,” Hermione said. “Nothing to get worked up over.”

    “Right,” Ron said, his face still filled with smug satisfaction. Harry tried hard to stifle his laughs. Hermione caught Harry’s eye and smiled a little.

    “So what else are we going to do tonight?” Harry asked, his eyes still focused on Hermione.    

    “I’m tired, I’m going to try to sleep,” Hermione said with a yawn.

    “All right,” Ron said. “Have fun trying to sleep through the nightmares of me beating you at cards.”

    “That’s the only place you’ll ever beat me, Ron, in dreams,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Good night, Harry. And you, Ron.” She walked out of the room and headed to Dudley’s room.

    “Wonder why she’s going to bed early,” Ron said, checking his watch.

    “Maybe she’s just tired,” Harry said, yawning. “I could sleep myself.”

    “All right.”

    “I’ll take the floor, you can have my bed,” Harry said, watching Ron getting comfortable on his bed.

    “Thanks, mate,” Ron said. “Good night.”

    “Good night,” Harry said, turning off the light.

    Harry closed his eyes, feeling sleep taking hold of him. He expected to drift easily off into sleep, but something odd happened. His mind started to drift into uneasy memories and awful thoughts...

    ...He saw a flash of green light, and he saw his parents, their faces locked in an expression of horror. There was another flash of green light, and he saw the lifeless, grey eyes of Cedric Diggory. More green light, followed by the familiar face of his godfather Sirius, smiling and shaking his shaggy black hair, before falling to the ground, expressionless. There was another flash, and he saw Hermione’s body lying on the ground, blood trickling out of the side of her mouth. A cold laughter filled the air as the light flashed again, leaving Ron on the floor, his skin deathly pale, his hair matted in blood. The cackling grew intensely loud, and after the final flash of green light, he saw himself, his body thrown haphazardly towards the Earth, as if life had suddenly rushed out of him...

    Harry awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, feeling slightly out of breath. He was having a nightmare, but he couldn’t keep a firm grip about what he was dreaming. He could remember bits and snatches of his dream. He had seen everyone dead, everyone was gone.

    Even me, Harry thought, feeling his breath coming in short, rapid bursts. His body was covered with sweat, and he was shaking. Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It was just a nightmare, another stupid nightmare, it didn’t have anything to do with reality. His scar prickled uncomfortably, as if it wasn’t quite sure whether or not it should be hurting or not. He took another breath and stood up. Ron was snoring slightly, muttering something about twelve ferrets and a tea cozy. Harry smiled a bit and exited his room. He headed downstairs, making sure he didn’t step on the creaking stair, and walked into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and sipped slowly. He walked into the living room, took another sip of water, and then lay down on the couch. The dark of the room swam over him, allowing his mind to clear.

    “You can’t sleep either,” a voice said above him. Harry saw that Hermione was standing over him, her pink pajamas seemed bright against the darkness. Harry choked on his water as he bolted upright.

    “Not...erm...not exactly,” Harry choked out, his throat still stinging from the water. Hermione smiled and sat next to him on the couch.

    “What about Ron? How is he getting along?”

    “He’s snoring, as usual,” Harry said with a grin. “He could sleep through the house exploding I reckon.”

    “Well, I envy that about him,” Hermione said.

    “How come you can’t get to sleep?” Harry asked, taking another sip of water. He offered some to Hermione, but she declined.

    “I’m worried,” Hermione muttered. Harry felt her hand slide into his.

    “About what?” he asked, knowing that he was feeling that slightly nervous feeling in his stomach but enjoying every minute of it.    

    “The O.W.L.’s,” Hermione said, somewhat to Harry’s relief.

    “Oh, those. Hermione I’m sure you did fine.”

    “Well, that’s easy for you to say, but I’m still really nervous.”

    “I don’t understand how the smartest witch in the entire school is nervous about failing her O.W.L.’s,” Harry said with a smile. Harry was forcefully reminded of his third year, when Hermione staggered out of the cupboard with the boggart, ghastly afraid that she had failed everything.

    “I’m nervous about failing anything.”

    “It’ll be fine. Ron and I will open ours first, and if we passed our subjects, you have to have passed everything,” Harry said bracingly. Hermione smiled and scooted closer to Harry. He could see how close she was getting, and when she leaned into kiss, Harry automatically leaned in too. They kissed for a moment, but just when Harry expected to lean away, Hermione deepened the kiss. Harry’s eyes flew open in surprise; he had never kissed someone for so long before. Usually it was just a peck on the cheek, or a kiss on the lips, but Hermione seemed to want to move forward. Harry felt his heart patter nervously. He didn’t know what he was doing, he had never tongue kissed before; he plunged on recklessly, knowing that he was probably ruining his first real kiss with Hermione. His heart felt cold; what if he was doing this wrong? He pulled away quickly, wanting to end this humiliation as quickly as possible.

    “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his face warming as he blushed. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he was as red as Ron.

    “For what?” Hermione asked, looking thoroughly bewildered at Harry breaking off the kiss.

    “Nothing,” Harry said thickly, feeling that indicating how bad he was at kissing would make the situation worse. “It’s just, if my aunt or uncle came down and saw us...you know...they’d probably freak out a bit.” Hermione smiled a bit.

    “Right. That makes sense. I’ll see you in the morning then.” Hermione gave him a swift kiss on the cheek and then headed back upstairs to Dudley’s room. Harry watched as she went, feeling the swoop in his stomach intensify, and grabbed the glass of water, gulping down the rest of it.

***

    “What’s wrong mate?” Ron asked when they both were awake the following morning. Ron was laying in Harry’s bed, while Harry was sitting on the floor, giving Hedwig some owl treats.

    “Nothing,” Harry lied, stroking the snowy owl’s head. Ron grinned and shook his head.

    “You’re always bad at lying, you know,” Ron insisted. “Come on, we’re best mates.” Harry knew that he could tell Ron anything, but the subject of Hermione still felt like a sensitive one. If the situation between Ron and Hermione was still a sore spot, Harry did not want to awaken any feelings of ill content between the three of them.

    “Even if the subject could possibly be uncomfortable?” Harry asked, his eyebrows raised.

    “Shoot,” Ron said, his face showing no sign of discomfort.

    “Have you ever kissed a girl?” Harry asked lamely. Ron laughed.

    “Of course,” he said. “What did you think I was a monk or something?”

    “Not just kiss,” Harry plunged onwards. “But...tongue kissed?” Ron’s ears went red.

    “Once.”

    “Who?” Harry asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

    “We were talking about you,” Ron said, looking affronted.

    “Right,” Harry said, dropping the subject. “Well, how do you know if you’re doing it right?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I mean, how do you know if you’re...bad...at it?” Ron’s face screwed up in thought.

    “Well, I suppose if the girl gagged or something, you’d know if you were bad at it.” Harry thought back to last night, and tried to remember if Hermione gagged or looked ill at any point. “But I suppose that no matter how bad you are, you’d get better with practice.”

    “But what if you’re so bad at it that the girl just doesn’t want to do it with you?” Harry proposed.

    “Well...I suppose that could happen. But I would like to think that if a girl likes you enough then she would want to help you get better,” Ron said sagely.

    “I hope you’re right,” Harry said, his mind starting to get lost in thought. Did Hermione think he was a bad kisser? Harry felt really nervous at the prospect of Hermione breaking up with him over being a bad kisser. But that wasn’t like Hermione, she wouldn’t care about something like that. Would she? Harry didn’t think so, but he couldn’t fight the self-doubt that was gnawing at his insides. He looked at Ron, who was chuckling.

    “What?”

    “Well, I suppose it’s bit screwy. The Boy-Who-Lived, famous for defeating You-Know-Who, who can always manage to trounce him again and again, who constantly gets attacked every year, worries about being able to kiss.”    

    “Well, I do get to have some sort of normal life for a sixteen-year-old wizard, right?” Harry said, his eyebrows raised.

    “There’s no denying you should get a normal life,” Ron said, a dubious look spreading on his face. Harry didn’t like the doubt that was plain on Ron’s face.

    “I suppose we should go downstairs and eat breakfast,” he said suddenly, wanting very much to have a distraction from his thoughts and to get rid of the look on Ron’s face.

    “All right. It’s about time you said something, I was starving. You know, your family isn’t as bad as I thought,” Ron said. “It feels weird, knowing they were once trying to kill you.”

    “Never kill me,” Harry said, the feeling of unease filling his heart. “Just make me unhealthy enough so I couldn’t do magic.”

***

    The three of them ate merrily in the morning, reliving memories with Aunt Petunia, who was thoroughly enjoying it.

    “So instead of doing something rational, Harry jumps on the troll’s back and jams his wand up the troll’s nose,” Ron said amidst a burst of laughter.

    “It was the first thing that I thought to do,” Harry said, laughing with the rest of them.

    “How about that time Ron was spewing out slugs after he tried to curse Draco Malfoy?” Hermione said, clutching her side because she was laughing so hard.

    “That was disgusting,” Ron said, his face contorted in a grimace at the memory. “Remember, though, my wand was broken.”

    “You mean you had slugs in your mouth?” Petunia asked, thoroughly horrified at the thought.

    “It was terrible, Ron was spraying slugs for what seemed like hours,” Harry said.

    “Seems like you’ve never done anything quite ridiculous,” Petunia said to Hermione, who grinned.

    “Well...there was that one time Draco Malfoy’s curse hit me in the mouth and my teeth went beyond my chin.” Harry and Ron chuckled appreciatively.

    “You minx, you didn’t even return them to normal,” Ron said.

    “Well, they were in need of shrinking,” Hermione insisted.

    “I have one,” Harry said with a smile.

    “What?” Hermione asked, looking confused.

    “In our first year. Ron was still in the Devil’s Snare, and you figured out that it hated fire.” Ron started laughing hysterically.

    “Yes?” Hermione asked, looking like she hadn’t caught on.

    “Well, when you realized that you needed a fire, you got all hysterical and said that there was no wood to light a fire.” Hermione blushed a bit and grinned sheepishly.

    “Well, I was just getting used to being in life or death situations,” Hermione said.

    “We’ve got loads of practice on them now though,” Ron said. Harry’s smile wavered a bit. It was true; the three of them were constantly risking their lives. Harry felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of one of them dying because of him. Harry saw Aunt Petunia giving him a curious look, so he forced out a smile and took a swig of orange juice.

    “I’m not too keen on you three having any more of those adventures of yours, no matter how funny they sound in retrospect,” Petunia said, her lips characteristically pursed. “Anyhow, I expect the rest of your school stuff to arrive today, so we’re going to go to Diagon Alley for your books and any travel supplies. Now, I just bought some Floo Powder from a certain friend of mine, and I want to know how to use it.”

    “It’s the stuff that lets you travel through the fireplace,” Harry said. “Remember when the Weasleys got stuck in the chimney because we had the fireplace blocked?” Ron choked on his orange juice as Harry brought up this particular memory.

    “Ah yes...it was one of your brothers who slipped Dudley the tongue swelling thing,” Petunia said, her lips pursing further. But if Harry wasn’t mistaken, he thought he saw Petunia’s mouth almost cracking into a smile.

    “Sorry ‘bout that,” Ron muttered sheepishly, but when he saw the enormous grin on Harry’s face, he too smiled.

    The morning passed pleasantly; Harry spent the morning helping Aunt Petunia clean the dishes, refusing the help of Ron and Hermione, who were reduced to sipping tea and chatting conversationally. The whole situation seemed surreal to Harry; it was as if nothing in the world had happened, and they were just four people having a good, worry-free time. Harry felt his heart swell a bit. This was the life he wanted to live, where the biggest worries he was going to have were school, friends, relationships. None of this Voldemort business, no war, no heir of Gryffindor, no destiny of being a victim of murder. Harry felt goosebumps cover his skin as he thought again of dying at the hands of Voldemort. He could almost picture the flashing green light of the Avada Kedavra curse and how his body would hit the ground, lifeless and cold.

    “Harry, are you all right?” Aunt Petunia asked. Harry seemed to snap out of a reverie; he had dropped a dish in the sink and broke it, and he was not aware that he had cut himself and had been bleeding. Harry spun and saw the concern on his friends’ faces, and he forced a smile.    

    “Sorry, wasn’t paying attention,” he stammered out, and grabbed a washcloth to press to his hand.

    “I’ll go get the first aid kit,” Petunia said. “I don’t know any healing spells or charms or anything.” She shuffled off hastily out of the kitchen, leaving the three of them alone.

    “What’s wrong?” Hermione asked as she nervously sipped her tea.

    “Nothing, I just wasn’t paying attention,” Harry repeated.

    “You went all rigid,” Ron said, the unusually shrewd look that he was capable of plastered on his face.

    “I was just distracted,” Harry said. He still hadn’t told Ron and Hermione about his destiny, about what happened at the end of the last school year, and he had no plans to ever tell them.

    “But,” Hermione started, but there was a slight tapping at the window over the sink. Harry turned and saw an owl being weighed down by three packages, and was thoroughly annoyed that it couldn’t get into the kitchen. Harry opened the window, allowing the owl to sweep in and crash onto the kitchen table. Hermione hastily relieved the owl of its burden. It hooted in annoyance and flew straight of out of the window again.

    “Mangy bird,” Ron said. His envelope was slightly bigger than Harry’s or Hermione’s envelope.

    “I wonder why you got special attention?” Harry asked, ripping his open and pulling out its contents. He saw at the very top, in emerald green ink and fancy handwriting:

                O.W.L. Results

    Harry felt his heat flutter to his throat. He looked up and saw a similarly anxious look on Hermione’s face. When he looked at Ron, however, he noticed that Ron’s jaw had dropped.

    “What is it?” Harry asked worriedly. Had Ron failed his O.W.L.’s? “Bad O.W.L. scores?”

    “No...but...” He pulled out his hand from the envelope and retrieved a shiny silver badge with a P engraved in it.

    “You’re a prefect?” Harry asked, stunned by the news.

    “I guess...it says so on this parchment,” Ron stammered, handing the parchment to Hermione.

    “Oh...well, Dumbledore appoints one honorary prefect for each house in the sixth year. So you’ll be a prefect with Harry and me,” Hermione said brightly. “That’s great, now you won’t be left out!”

    “I should tell my parents, but I expect they got a letter already too,” Ron said, admiring the shiny badge.

    “What about your O.W.L.’s?” Hermione prompted. “Have you looked at those yet?” Ron looked as though he had been snapped out of a dream; he looked down casually at the O.W.L. letter and his smile drooped a bit.

    “Could have done without knowing these came too,” Ron muttered.

    “Who wants to go first?” Hermione asked.

    “I’ll do it,” Harry offered.

    “No. Let’s all do it at the same time,” Ron offered, his face growing pale.

    “Ready?” Harry asked, looking at the two of them. They nodded, and when Harry nodded his head, they all unfolded the parchments and started to read.

Transfiguration: Theory: E

            Practical: E

            Total: E

Potions: Theory: A

     Practical: E

        Total: A

History of Magic: D

Astronomy: E

Charms: Theory: E

     Practical: O

        Total: E

Herbology: Theory: A

         Practical: E

         Total: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Theory: O

                         Practical: O    

                            Total: O

Divination: Theory: D

         Practical: D

            Total: D

Care of Magical Creatures: Practical: E

         Total O.W.L.’s =7

Score Breakdown:

D - Dreadful

P- Poor

A - Acceptable

E - Exceeds Expectations

O - Outstanding

7 out of 9 O.W.L.’s = Exceeds Expectations

    Harry felt a slight tingle in his skin. He had received seven O.W.L.’s. That was barely more than half of what Percy got, but Percy must have been taking far more subjects than he, Harry, had taken. Harry’s eyes zoomed over his results again. He had narrowly passed in Potions, but aside from all of his failing scores, he managed to score fairly high. He knew he would fail History of Magic and Divination, those were a given, but he never dreamed that he would be able to secure such high marks on his tests. He looked up, not daring to breath, hoping that the expression on his face was not of smug satisfaction, but of tense expectations for the other two.

    “I got six O.W.L.’s,” Ron said finally. “That’s not too bad, I suppose.”

    “Not bad at all,” Hermione said, still staring at her parchment. “The typical student at Hogwarts takes nine classes, and passing six out of nine is about the average.”

    “Nothing wrong with average,” Ron said in a dignified voice. “How about you Harry?”

    “I got seven,” he said with a grin. “Divination and History of Magic kept me from being perfect.”

    “Same here. I didn’t pass in Herbology, I must have been sleeping while I took that exam. I can’t believe I scraped enough together for Potions.”

    “Hmm...” Hermione said, deeply enthralled by her O.W.L. results.

    “So Hermione, how did you do?” Harry asked, looking at her intently.

    “All right,” she said in a distracted voice.

    “Just all right? Only ten O.W.L.’s?” Ron asked with a smirk.

    “Thirteen,” Hermione said back to him, her brow furrowed.

    “Thirteen O.W.L.’s?” Harry asked incredulously, looking at Ron.

    “You can’t get thirteen O.W.L.’s, it’s impossible. Hogwarts only has twelve classes.”

    “Well, I got thirteen,” Hermione insisted. “I took more subjects than you two.”

    “Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, but you don’t take Divination,” Ron said. “You still aren’t taking twelve classes.”

    “Well, I sat the exams for Muggle Studies and Divination anyhow,” Hermione said brightly.

    “You sat the Divination exam and actually passed?” Harry asked in disbelief.

    “Yes. I told you, Trelawney is an abhorred teacher. I just read the textbook before the test and then I sat the exam,” Hermione said brightly.

    “That’s sick,” Ron said.

    “So where’s the thirteenth class you’ve taken?” Harry asked. Hermione blushed and rolled up her parchment.

    “Shall we celebrate our doing so well?” Hermione said, changing the subject.

    “What subject did you take?” Harry asked again.

    “Nothing,” Hermione insisted. Harry caught Ron’s eye and gave him a worried look. The last time Hermione hid something like this she was hiding the Time-Turner, an experience that Harry did not want to relive.

    “Come on Hermione,” Ron prodded, but Hermione looked resolute.

    “It’s nothing. It’s just a silly exam grade anyhow,” Hermione said.

    “Now it’s a silly exam grade, now that you’ve gotten the most O.W.L.’s ever,” Ron said incredulously.

    “We need to get ready to go to Diagon Alley,” Harry said evasively, trying to avoid a squabble between Ron and Hermione.

    “For what?” Ron asked incredulously.

    “Your books,” Aunt Petunia said, coming into the kitchen. “You children had best be ready, we don’t have much time. When we get back you kids better make sure you’re packed and ready to go.”

    “Yes Aunt Petunia,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at Ron and Hermione. Harry stood up, ready to leave the living room, when he saw the broken dish still in the sink, his blood swirling in the water, slowly turning the water red. He held his hand absently, watching as the blood dripped from the dish, and turned away and headed for the living room with everyone else.