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Chapter 113 – Final Exams!!
"No, that's enough," Darren said firmly.
Madam Pomfrey sighed, shrugged, and handed him a pouch so heavy it sagged in the middle.
"That's all my savings."
"But… don't you need this money?" Darren hesitated, fingers barely touching the pouch. If he'd just emptied her vault and left her starving, he might actually collapse on the floor.
"Oh, child, don't fuss," she waved off. "I still get paid. Hogwarts takes care of its own. Now—off to class before a professor catches you, or I'll deny I ever saw you!"
The next week was swallowed by exams.
Because Darren had practically memorized every textbook, he breezed through the written portions without breaking a sweat.
Then came the practicals.
Professor Flitwick had them charm a pineapple to tap-dance off the desk.
Darren's pineapple tap-danced, pirouetted, performed a baby swan routine, and finished with a polite bow.
"Outstanding, Mr. Potter—Junior!" Flitwick squeaked. "Your magical aptitude is extraordinary, and your manners even more so!"
Next was Transfiguration.
Professor McGonagall required them to transform a mouse into a snuffbox. The more elegant, the higher the grade.
She examined every student with strict precision—until Darren stepped forward. Her voice softened.
"No, no, Darren dear, the mouse won't feel a thing. No creature will be harmed. Breathe… good boy…"
Darren smiled politely.
With a wave of his wand, the mouse became a beautifully carved Chinese-style snuff bottle—delicate patterns, lacquered finish, everything.
McGonagall nearly clutched her heart.
She almost asked to keep it—unfortunately, Darren turned it back into a mouse.
Seeing her disappointment, he conjured a tiny wooden pavilion instead. She looked ready to cry from joy.
Then came Snape.
He didn't even let Darren take the exam.
He glanced at him, curled his lip, and said, "Full marks. I don't expect brilliance from the rest of these… turnips stuffed with dittany."
Darren accepted the perfect score cheerfully.
Nothing could faze him.
Harry, however, looked like a ghost.
Dark circles, nightmares, constant nerves—classic exam stress mixed with Forbidden Forest trauma.
Because Harry hadn't told Darren about seeing Voldemort—or that Darren had nearly been attacked—Darren couldn't acknowledge any of it. He simply kept bringing Harry calming potions from Madam Pomfrey and coaxed him to drink.
Harry's guilt ate at him daily. He wanted to confess, but the image of Darren charging into the Forest with a stick to "fight Voldemort for Harry's sake" haunted him, so he stayed silent.
The last exam was History of Magic with Professor Binns.
The ghost's questions were simple. Darren finished everything perfectly and stepped outside with a bright grin.
"How nice, Harry!" Darren said, stretching in the sunlight.
He and Hermione relaxed under the roots of a large tree. The sun was warm enough to lull Darren to sleep.
"Exactly," Hermione said. "We're done. Just one more week, and term ends. Dumbledore will move the Philosopher's Stone soon—then we can all relax."
Ron nodded eagerly.
Harry couldn't. His scar burned. Something was wrong. Something he'd forgotten—
And then it hit him.
He bolted upright and sprinted.
"Brother!" Darren shouted, scrambling after him.
Harry didn't slow. "I've been thinking—Hagrid only got the dragon egg because someone gave it to him! But who walks around carrying a dragon egg? Who hands it to a stranger? Someone wanting information, that's who!"
Ron gaped. "What are you on about?"
Hermione went pale.
Darren said quietly, "Harry… that person approached Hagrid on purpose. To learn how to get past Fluffy."
"Darren's right!"
"Oh—oh NO!"
Hermione shrieked. They all sprinted faster.
When they reached Hagrid's hut, they collapsed against the fence, panting.
"What are you doing here? Don't you have exams?" Hagrid asked, puzzled.
"We finished! Hagrid—I need to ask you something!" Harry gasped.
Hagrid blinked as Harry stepped close.
"Do you remember the man who gave you the dragon egg? What did he look like?"
"Dunno. He never took off his cloak."
Hagrid shrugged. Seeing their horrified faces, he added, "Lots of people in the Hog's Head don't. That's normal."
"Then—what did he ask you?" Harry pressed.
"Well… first he asked what creatures I liked… So I said dragons. Then he kept buyin' me drinks… Then made a bet I couldn't raise one—ha! Of course I could!"
Hagrid smiled proudly, then frowned as memories resurfaced.
"I told him I could even handle a three-headed dog like Fluffy—"
"Was he asking about Fluffy?" Harry whispered.
"Oh yes—big three-headed fella. I told him how you just play him some music and he'll fall right asleep—Oh. Oh no. I told him—"
Hagrid froze.
And then Harry grabbed Darren's sleeve and ran.
Hermione and Ron tore after them.
Hagrid stood alone in the doorway of his hut, watching them sprint away, completely baffled.
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