within a week, even those who had been eyewitnesses were half-convinced that they had seen the twins and aurora dive-bomb umbridge on their brooms, pelting her with dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. in the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them, so that elara frequently heard students saying things like, "honestly, some days i just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place," or else, "one more lesson like that and i might just do a weasley. . . ."

fred, george, and aurora had made sure that nobody was likely to forget them very soon. for one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. umbridge and filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. eventually the area was roped off and filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. elara was certain that teachers like mcgonagall or flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant, but just as in the case of the wildfire whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch umbridge struggle.

then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in umbridge's office door, through which fred and george's cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. filch fitted a new door and removed harry's firebolt to the dungeons where, it was rumored, umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. however, her troubles were far from over.

inspired by fred, george, and aurora's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of troublemakers-in-chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted niffler into umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on umbridge on her reentrance, and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. dungbombs and stinkpellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform bubble-head charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh clean air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.

filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them that he did not know which way to turn. the inquisitorial squad were attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. warrington of the slytherin quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes. pansy parkinson, to hermione's delight, missed all her lessons the following day, as she had sprouted antlers.

meanwhile it became clear just how many skiving snackboxes fred, george, and aurora had managed to sell before leaving hogwarts. umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or else spout blood from both nostrils. shrieking with rage and frustration she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering "umbridge-itis." after putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating, and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.

but not even the users of the snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, peeves, who seemed to have taken aurora's parting words deeply to heart. cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, and toppling statues and vases. twice he shut mrs. norris inside suits of armor, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. he smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows, flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the great hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

none of the staff but filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. indeed, a week after fred, george, and aurora's departure elara witnessed professor mcgonagall walking right past peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn she heard mcgonagall tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "it unscrews the other way."

ron's euphoria at helping gryffindor scrape the quidditch cup was such that he could not settle to anything next day. all he wanted to do was talk over the match and elara, harry, and hermione found it very difficult to find an opening in which to mention grawp — not that either of them tried very hard; neither was keen to be the one to bring ron back to reality in quite such a brutal fashion. as it was another fine, warm day, they persuaded him to join them in studying under the beech tree on the edge of the lake, where they stood less chance of being overheard than in the common room. ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first; he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by gryffindors walking past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of "weasley is our king," but agreed after a while that some fresh air might do him good.

they spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree. elara, already tired of studying, laid out on her back. ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.

"well, i mean, i'd already let in that one of davies's, so i wasn't feeling that confident, but i dunno, when bradley came toward me, just out of nowhere, i thought — you can do this! and i had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goal hoop — my right, obviously, his left — but i had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so i took the chance and flew left — his right, i mean — and — well — you saw what happened," he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them — a bunch of gossiping third-year hufflepuffs — had heard him. "and then, when chambers came at me about five minutes later — what?" ron said, stopping mid-sentence at the look on harry's face. "why are you grinning?"

"i'm not," said harry quickly, looking down at his transfiguration notes and attempting to straighten his face. "i'm just glad we won, that's all."

"yeah," said ron slowly, savoring the words, "we won. did you see the look on chang's face when ginny got the snitch right out from under her nose?"

"i suppose she cried, did she?" said harry bitterly.

elara laughed loudly for a second but clamped her hand over her mouth. she sort of felt terrible for cho.

"well, yeah — more out of temper than anything, though . . ." ron frowned slightly. "but you saw her chuck her broom away when she got back to the ground, didn't you?"

"er —" said harry.

"well, actually . . . no, ron," said hermione with a heavy sigh, putting down her book and looking at him apologetically. "as a matter of fact, the only bit of the match lara, harry, and i saw was davies's first goal."

ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment.

"you didn't watch?" he said faintly, looking from one to the other. "you didn't see me make any of those saves?"

"well — no," said hermione, stretching out a placatory hand toward him. "but ron, we didn't want to leave — we had to!"

"yeah?" said ron, whose face was growing rather red. "how come?"

"it was hagrid," said harry. "he decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. he wanted us to go into the forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. . . . anyway . . ."

the story was told in five minutes, by the end of which ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity.

"he brought one back and hid it in the forest?"

"yep," said elara grimly.

"no," said ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. "no, he can't have. . . ."

"well, he has," said hermione firmly. "grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty foot pine trees, and knows me," she snorted, "as hermy."

ron gave a nervous laugh.

"and hagrid wants us to . . . ?"

"teach him english, yeah," said harry.

"he's lost his mind," said ron in an almost awed voice.

"yes," said elara irritably, sitting up. she scooted back into a spot between ron and harry. "i'm pretty sure he has. but unfortunately, he made harry, hermione, and me promise."

"well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all," said ron firmly. "i mean, come on . . . we've got exams and we're about that far," he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart, "from being chucked out as it is. and anyway . . . remember norbert? remember aragog? have we ever come off better for mixing with any of hagrid's monster mates?"

"i know, it's just that — we promised," said hermione in a small voice.

ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied.

"well," he sighed, "hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? he's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near grawp at all."

the castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: june had arrived, but to the fifth years this meant only one thing: their o.w.l.s were upon them at last.

their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to reviewing those topics their teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. the purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the o.w.l.s from elara's mind.

hermione was not the only person acting oddly as the o.w.l.s drew steadily nearer. ernie macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their study habits.

"how many hours d'you think you're doing a day?" he demanded of elara, harry, and ron as they queued outside herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"i dunno," said ron. "a few . . ."

"more or less than eight?"

"less, i s'pose," said ron, looking slightly alarmed.

"i'm doing eight," said ernie, puffing out his chest. "eight or nine. i'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. eight's my average. i can do ten on a good weekend day. i did nine and a half on monday. not so good on tuesday — only seven and a quarter. then on wednesday —"

"ernie macmillan, you've never irritated me before and i think you're great, if you don't shut it in five seconds i will force your head into one of these pots," said elara threateningly.

ernie shut up after that. meanwhile draco malfoy had found a different way to induce panic.

"of course, it's not what you know," he was heard to tell crabbe and goyle loudly outside potions a few days before the exams were to start, "it's who you know. now, father's been friendly with the head of the wizarding examinations authority for years — old griselda marchbanks — we've had her round for dinner and everything. . . ."

"do you think that's true?" hermione whispered to elara, harry, and ron, looking frightened.

"he's bluffing. they've never had griselda marchbanks over, ever," said elara, rolling her eyes in draco's direction.

meanwhile a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility, and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth and seventh years. harry and ron were much tempted by the bottle of baruffio's brain elixir offered to them by ravenclaw sixth year eddie carmichael, who swore it was solely responsible for the nine "outstanding" o.w.l.s he had gained the previous summer and was offering the whole pint for a mere twelve galleons. elara declined, but ron assured harry he would reimburse him for his half the moment he left hogwarts and got a job, but before they could close the deal, hermione had confiscated the bottle from carmichael and poured the contents down a toilet.

"hermione, we wanted to buy that!" shouted ron.

"don't be stupid," she snarled. "you might as well take harold dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it."

"dingle's got powdered dragon claw?" said ron eagerly.

"not anymore," said hermione. "i confiscated that too. none of these things actually works you know —"

"dragon claw does work!" said ron. "it's supposed to be incredible, really gives your brain a boost, you come over all cunning for a few hours — hermione, let me have a pinch, go on, it can't hurt —"

"this stuff can," said hermione grimly. "i've had a look at it, and it's actually dried doxy droppings."

this information took the edge off harry and ron's desire for brain stimulants.

they received their examination schedules and details of the procedure for o.w.l.s during their next transfiguration lesson.

"as you can see," professor mcgonagall told the class while they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, "your o.w.l.s are spread over two successive weeks. you will sit the theory exams in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. your practical astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night.

"now, i must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. auto-answer quills are banned from the examination hall, as are remembralls, detachable cribbing cuffs, and self-correcting Ink. every year, i am afraid to say, seems to harbor at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the wizarding examinations authority's rules. i can only hope that it is nobody in gryffindor. our new — headmistress" — professor mcgonagall pronounced the word with like she was struggling — "has asked the heads of house to tell their students that cheating will be punished most severely — because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the headmistress's new regime at the school. . . ."

professor mcgonagall gave a tiny sigh. elara saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare.

"however, that is no reason not to do your very best. you have your own futures to think about."

"please, professor," said hermione, her hand in the air, "when will we find out our results?"

"an owl will be sent to you some time in july," said professor mcgonagall.

"excellent," said dean thomas in an audible whisper, "so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays. . . ."

their first exam, theory of charms, was scheduled for monday morning.

dinner was a subdued affair that night. elara, harry, and ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. hermione on the other hand kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure. ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate.

"oh, my goodness," she said faintly, staring into the entrance hall. "is that them? is that the examiners?"

elara, harry, and ron whipped around on their bench. through the doors to the great hall they could see umbridge standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. umbridge, elara was pleased to see, looked rather nervous.

"shall we go and have a closer look?" said ron.

elara, harry, and hermione nodded and they hastened toward the double doors into the entrance hall, slowing down as they stepped over the threshold to walk sedately past the examiners. elara thought professor marchbanks must be the tiny, stooped witch with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; umbridge was speaking to her very deferentially. professor marchbanks seemed to be a little deaf; she was answering umbridge very loudly considering that they were only a foot apart.

"journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!" she said impatiently. "now, i haven't heard from dumbledore lately!" she added, peering around the hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. "no idea where he is, i suppose?"

"none at all," said umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at elara, harry, ron, and hermione, who were now dawdling around the foot of the stairs as ron pretended to do up his shoelace. "but i daresay the ministry of magic will track him down soon enough. . . ."

"i doubt it," shouted tiny professor marchbanks, "not if dumbledore doesn't want to be found! i should know. . . . examined him personally in transfiguration and charms when he did n.e.w.t.s . . . did things with a wand i'd never seen before . . ."

"yes . . . well . . ." said professor umbridge as elara, harry, ron, and hermione dragged their feet up the marble staircase as slowly as they dared, "let me show you to the staffroom . . . i daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey. . . ."

"bitch," murmured elara.