Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

right?’
    ‘What?’ snapped Hermione, picking up the exam timetable and examining it. ‘Yes, of course I have.’
    ‘Is there any point asking how you’re going to sit two exams at once?’ said Harry.
    ‘No,’ said Hermione shortly. ‘Has either of you seen my copy of Numerology and Grammatica ?’
    ‘Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading,’ said Ron, but very quietly. Hermione started shifting heaps of parchment around on her table, looking for the book. Just then, there was a rustle at the window and Hedwig fluttered through it, a note clutched tightly in her beak.
    ‘It’s from Hagrid,’ said Harry, ripping the note open. ‘Buckbeak’s appeal – it’s set for the sixth.’
    ‘That’s the day we finish our exams,’ said Hermione, still looking everywhere for her Arithmancy book.
    ‘And they’re coming up here to do it,’ said Harry, still reading from the letter. ‘Someone from the Ministry of Magic and – and an executioner.’
    Hermione looked up, startled.
    ‘They’re bringing the executioner to the appeal! But that sounds as though they’ve already decided!’
    ‘Yeah, it does,’ said Harry slowly.
    ‘They can’t!’ Ron howled. ‘I’ve spent ages reading up stuff for him, they can’t just ignore it all!’
    But Harry had a horrible feeling that the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures had had its mind made up for it by Mr Malfoy. Draco, who had been noticeably subdued since Gryffindor’s triumph in the Quidditch final, seemed to regain some of his old swagger over the next few days. From sneering comments Harry overheard, Malfoy was certain Buckbeak was going to be killed, and seemed thoroughly pleased with himself for bringing it about. It was all Harry could do to stop himself imitating Hermione and hitting Malfoy in the face on these occasions. And the worst thing of all was that they had no time or opportunity to go and see Hagrid, because the strict new security measures had not been lifted, and Harry didn’t dare retrieve his Invisibility Cloak from below the one-eyed witch.
    *
    Exam week began and an unnatural hush fell over the castle. The third-years emerged from Transfiguration at lunch-time on Monday limp and ashen-faced, comparing results and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks they had been set, which had included turning a teapot into a tortoise. Hermione irritated the rest by fussing about how her tortoise had looked more like a turtle, which was the least of everyone else’s worries.
    ‘Mine still had a spout for a tail, what a nightmare …’
    ‘Were the tortoises supposed to breathe steam?’
    ‘It still had a willow-patterned shell, d’you think that’ll count against me?’
    Then, after a hasty lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Charms exam. Hermione had been right; Professor Flitwick did indeed test them on Cheering Charms. Harry slightly overdid his out of nerves and Ron, who was partnering him, ended up in fits of hysterical laughter and had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour before he was ready to perform the Charm himself. After dinner, the students hurried back to their common rooms, not to relax, but to start revising for Care of Magical Creatures, Potions and Astronomy.
    Hagrid presided over the Care of Magical Creatures exam the following morning with a very preoccupied air indeed; his heart didn’t seem to be in it at all. He had provided a large tub of fresh Flobberworms for the class, and told them that, to pass the test, their Flobberworm had to still be alive at the end of one hour. As Flobberworms flourished best if left to their own devices, it was the easiest exam any of them had ever sat, and also gave Harry, Ron and Hermione plenty of opportunity to speak to Hagrid.
    ‘Beaky’s gettin’ a bit depressed,’ Hagrid told them, bending low on the pretence of checking that Harry’s Flobberworm was still alive. ‘Bin cooped up too long. But still … we’ll know day after tomorrow – one way or the other.’
    They had Potions that afternoon, which was an unqualified disaster. Try as Harry might, he couldn’t get his Confusing Concoction to thicken, and Snape, standing watching with an air of vindictive pleasure, scribbled something that looked suspiciously like a zero onto his notes before moving away.
    Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of Magic on Wednesday morning, in which Harry scribbled everything Florean Fortescue had ever told him about