There was something in the air at Hogwarts. Something heavy. Something dreadful. Something that made even Peeves keep his pranks to a minimum (well, almost). That something was exam season.
Gone were the cheerful sparkles of Christmas and the lazy, snowy mornings. Instead, students were buried in textbooks, notes, and the constant screeching of quills against parchment. Stress was thick in every corridor—if you listened closely enough, you could almost hear it humming.
James, Rose, and Albus were among the most affected. With NEWTs and OWLs looming like dark clouds over their heads, the trio barely spoke to each other unless it was to shout: "Where's my notes on defensive hexes?" or "Did you see my copy of 'Ancient Runes Unraveled'?"
Even breakfast in the Great Hall had turned into a silent study session. The Slytherins muttered spells into their pumpkin juice. The Hufflepuffs practiced wand movements with toast in one hand and their wands in the other. Ravenclaws had gone full sleepless-zombie mode. And the Gryffindors… well, most of them were trying to convince McGonagall to cancel just one exam. She refused.
Teachers weren't helping either.
Professor Flitwick randomly shouted, "Cast Protego!" mid-lesson, and if a student failed, he'd give them a five-minute lecture on how unprepared they were. Professor Longbottom handed out sample Herbology tests with notes like "Don't kill the plant this time."
Professor Binns had started handing out essay topics like "The Goblin Rebellions: A Sixteen-Scroll Analysis," and then just... floated away.
Even Hagrid looked worried, muttering about how the Blast-Ended Skrewts used to be easier than passing Care of Magical Creatures.
It started slowly. A stray comment from Professor McGonagall in the Great Hall one morning:"Examinations begin in six weeks. I suggest you all start reviewing now, if you haven't already."
For those taking their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, those words felt like a curse.
Within days, study groups had formed, textbooks doubled as pillows in the library, and Madam Pince enforced silence with even more brutal efficiency. Albus, Rose, and James were the worst hit. While others still clung to a bit of post-holiday bliss, they were drowning in parchment.
"I'm going to hex the next person who says the word 'Arithmancy,'" Rose muttered one evening as she and Albus worked through a particularly nasty set of equations in the common room.
James didn't even look up from his transfiguration notes. "Try spending three hours on Animagus transformation theory and then tell me how your brain feels."
From Monday to Saturday, every day was carefully split into revisions and practice spells. Professors had turned into military drill instructors.
"Transfiguration theory at nine!" barked Professor McGonagall one Monday morning."And the practical follows at eleven. I expect a full explanation of theoretical morphing boundaries and no accidental squirrel heads, Mr. Longbottom!"
James tried to laugh. It came out like a wheeze.
For those in their fifth and seventh years, a wall near the library had been transformed into the "Countdown Corner." It displayed a charmed calendar with glowing red numbers and the subjects scheduled for each day. Some students stared at it daily like it held their doom.
On one such occasion, Hugo wandered by with Lily in tow and whispered, "They look like they've seen a Boggart."
"They probably have," Lily replied. "And it was holding a test paper."
A Letter from the Minister Herself
One afternoon, as the trio slumped in the common room, trying not to cry over a particularly brutal History of Magic revision scroll, a tawny owl swooped in through the tower window.
"It's from Mum," Rose said, opening the letter.
Dear Rose (and probably Albus and James, since I know you're reading over her shoulder),
I know exam time is difficult, and I know it doesn't always feel fair. But consider this: if I had been given sample tests in my time, I would've been grateful. You three are lucky to have support. Use it.
Also, I expect no less than Outstanding, especially from my daughter.
With love (and mild pressure),Mum / Minister Hermione Granger-Weasley
James groaned. "How are we lucky? We've had homework thrown at us."
"I'm still stuck on page four of Defensive Warding," Albus muttered.
"I'm still stuck wondering what a social life feels like," Rose said.
The Timetable of Doom
And then, the week of reckoning arrived. Each year, they received their own carefully printed timetables. Whispers spread as students compared their schedules and screamed internally.
For the N.E.W.T. students:
Monday: Arithmancy(9 a.m.) and History of Magic (3 p.m)
Tuesday: Transfiguration theory (9 a.m.), practical (11 a.m.), Ancient Runes (4 p.m.)
Wednesday: Care of Magical Creatures (all day theory & practicals)
Thursday: Potions theory (9 a.m.), practical 11 a.m.. Charms (2 p.m..)
Friday: Herbology practical (10 a.m.), theory 4 p.m., Astronomy (midnight exam)
Saturday: Defence Against the Dark Arts (Theory and Practical all day)
James stared at the list like it personally insulted him.
"Why is Astronomy always at midnight?" he asked nobody in particular.
"I'm more worried about Care of Magical Creatures," Rose replied. "Last year, a Hippogriff tried to sit on someone's wand."
Albus, flipping through his Ancient Runes book, added, "We're going to die."
The O.W.L. students were no better off:
Monday: Transfiguration(1 p.m.) & Care of Magical Creatures(5 p.m.)
Tuesday: Potions (All day Theory and Practical)
Wednesday: Charms(11 a.m.) & Herbology(2 p.m.)
Thursday: Ancient Runes(3 p.m.) & Astronomy(midnight)
Friday: Defence Against the Dark Arts(9 a.m.) & Arithmancy(3 p.m.)
Saturday: History of Magic (All day Theory and Practical)
Rose was mercilessly strict about their study schedule.
"Breaks every two hours, ten minutes maximum. Water, food, and bathroom in that order," she declared.
James pointed at her with his quill. "You're scarier than Mum sometimes."
"She learned from the best," Albus said.
The Week of Madness
Monday arrived like a Dementor. James sat at the front of the hall with a stack of Arithmency charts. The test was brutal. By lunch, he looked like he'd aged five years.
"History at three," he groaned, chewing his sandwich without tasting it.
"It's just dates and goblin rebellions," Rose tried to reassure him.
"I'd rather face a goblin rebellion."
By Tuesday, Transfiguration was going well—until someone transfigured their chair into a wolfhound by accident.
Wednesday's Care of Magical Creatures involved tending to a sick Mooncalf and navigating a herd of grumpy Thestrals. "Better than theory," muttered Albus, wiping dirt from his face.
Thursday's Potions class saw two cauldrons explode, one of them belonging to James. "This is why I didn't want to be a Healer," he muttered.
By Saturday, after Defence Against the Dark Arts—where James forgot wand movements due to nerves and Rose missed a date by a century—they practically collapsed in the common room.
The Great Collapse
They didn't have to worry about their results until midsummer. And yet, the stress lingered like a fog.
As they sprawled in front of the fire, Albus mumbled, "Do you think we'll pass?"
"I just hope I spelled my name right on the History of Magic paper," James replied.
Rose leaned her head on a pillow. "It's over. That's all that matters."
From across the room, Lily, Hugo, and Roxxane watched the trio with wide eyes.
"Is that what we'll look like in a few years?" Lily asked.
"Terrifying," said Hugo.
Roxxane, holding a chocolate frog, whispered, "They look like they fought a war."