The morning of the exam.
Even the air felt like it might solidify.
Tension was etched on every student's face. Everyone seemed on edge, as if disaster could strike at any moment.
When they passed Professor McGonagall in the corridor, her eyes behind those square spectacles looked even sterner than usual.
Even Neville—who had slowly grown more confident with Harry's help—was fidgeting nervously, clutching his robes so tightly they were all wrinkled, his head bobbing up and down as he glanced around.
But to Harry, the final exams weren't a big deal.
He had grown up buried under mountains of textbooks and endless practice. These were child's play in comparison—nothing worth stressing over.
…
…
The exams consisted of both written papers and practical components.
They were held in a large classroom, with all four Houses' first-year students sitting together—but that only added up to about sixty students in total.
The weather was scorching, and the room felt stuffy and oppressive.
Students were restless and irritable.
The feather quills distributed by the professors were enchanted with anti-cheating spells.
This made more than a few students visibly pale.
Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions all required written answers.
In the practicals, Professor Flitwick asked them to use a charm to make a pineapple dance across a table.
Professor McGonagall asked them to transfigure a white mouse into a black smoking pipe. The more realistic the pipe, the higher the score. Several students managed to conjure a pipe, but the color came out wrong—so no full marks there.
Down in the dungeons, Professor Snape had them brew a Forgetfulness Potion.
His sharp gaze swept over the class, and the slightest misstep earned a silent sneer and a cold scribble in his notebook.
He tried to throw Harry off, of course, but Harry remained expressionless and completed the task flawlessly—or at least well enough for a passing mark.
There were also exams in Herbology, and Flying...
The exams weren't rushed—sometimes they only had one subject per day.
All of them were wrapped up within four or five days.
The final one was History of Magic.
Harry was grateful for his improved memory—without it, he would've surrendered to that mind-numbingly dull subject long ago.
As he turned in his paper early, he noticed that most students were staring dreamily out the windows, grinning as they fantasized about freedom.
Once the exam ended, they'd bolt from the room like maniacs. They'd have a whole week to play around the school with no restrictions—and then it'd be time for the long summer holidays…
Watching them, Harry couldn't help but think their History of Magic scores would probably kill Professor Binns—if he weren't already dead.
Harry waited outside for Hermione. He knew she'd never hand in her paper early.
Sure enough, when Binns eventually droned, "Time's up, quills down," a cheer erupted from the classroom.
Dozens of students rushed out in a burst of celebration.
Whatever their grades might be, every single face wore an expression of joy.
Even Hermione—usually more composed and mature—had a rosy flush on her cheeks and an uncontrollable glint of excitement in her eyes.
She pushed past a few girls who had clearly hoped to "accidentally" bump into Harry and said cheerfully, "I thought History of Magic would be awful. There were just so many place names to remember!"
Harry knew how top students worked. After exams, they always needed to reflect—less to boast and more as a kind of personal closure. They didn't need someone to argue with, just someone to hear them out.
So Harry didn't interrupt. He simply listened to Hermione's slightly childish recap as they headed somewhere peaceful to rest.
They strolled across the lawn and down a gentle slope to the lake.
A few tall trees cast cool shadows in the golden sunlight.
Harry lay down comfortably on the grass. The dappled light filtering through the branches gave him a rare feeling of calm.
First year was over.
And with that peaceful thought… he drifted off.
Hermione had just finished her exhaustive commentary on the exams and turned to ask Harry what he thought—only to find him fast asleep.
She immediately hushed her voice.
Gazing at his tranquil face, a bold idea popped into her mind.
She glanced around quickly. In the distance, the giant squid was basking in the shallows, while the Weasley twins were teasing its tentacles, completely absorbed.
Everyone else was busy with their own affairs. No one was watching her.
She leaned down and planted a quick kiss on Harry's cheek—lightning fast.
Her face turned bright red, and she couldn't suppress a giddy giggle. Then she lay down next to him and, without realizing, dozed off herself.
Harry woke up from the chill.
His mind felt clearer than it had in ages.
The sun had already dipped halfway below the horizon. The western sky blazed with red while the east had grown dusky.
His arm felt cold—dewdrops had begun to form.
He couldn't believe he'd slept through the entire afternoon.
Hermione hadn't fared any better. She had curled up in her sleep from the drop in temperature.
Harry gently woke her. She blinked in confusion, momentarily forgetting where she was.
After rubbing her forehead, she finally remembered.
The two of them got up and returned to the Gryffindor common room, arriving just in time for dinner.
The Great Hall was alive with celebration.
On the way, Harry overheard countless plans for the summer holidays. All he could do was marvel—these kids really knew how to have fun.
After dinner, while heading back to the dormitories…
Harry ran into Penelope Clearwater. He asked how her O.W.L.s had gone, and she smiled confidently, saying she expected to score at least nine Outstandings.
That confidence reminded Harry a lot of Hermione, he thought.
They wished each other goodnight and went their separate ways.
That night, Harry fell asleep to the sound of Dean and the others chatting excitedly—even Neville, usually so quiet, had joined the conversation.
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