It was about two months after I'd started looking, but I still hadn't found anything that could help me find out if the memories were real or not. I'd read hundreds — if not thousands — of books, tried countless different spells and potions, but none of them had had the desired effect. Even more irritating was the fact I couldn't do any research for a whole week now; it was exam week, and an unnatural hush had fallen over the castle.

Myself and the rest of the third-years had just finished our Transfiguration exam. We were all comparing results, and most people were bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks we'd been set, which had included turning a teapot into a tortoise. Personally, I'd found it quite easy after all the practice I'd had when I was transfiguring things for my purse, but I didn't say so. Hermione irritated the rest by fussing about how her tortoise had looked more like a turtle, which seemed to be 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?"
"Mine quite literally peed tea," Ron muttered to Harry, Hermione, and me. I grinned.
"Sounds painful."

Then, after a hasty lunch, it was straight back upstairs for the Charms exam. Hermione had been right; Professor Flitwick did indeed test us on Cheering Charms. I did mine on Hermione, and I think I did ok. Hermione had to do hers on Flitwick, because I still wasn't sure if I'd try to hex her or anything if she did it to me. Next to me, Harry was doing the charm. He overdid it slightly, probably 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 could perform the charm himself.

After dinner, we all hurried back to our common rooms, not to relax, but to start revising for Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Astronomy. Although I'd said there was no point in me revising since I was going to be dead soon, I still got out my books and notes like everyone else.

Hagrid presided over the Care of Magical Creatures exam the next morning with a very preoccupied air indeed; his heart didn't seem to be in it at all. He had provided a very large tub of fresh Flobberworms, and told us that, to pass the test, our Flobberworms still had to be alive at the end of one hour. As Flobberworms flourished best when left to their own devices, it was the easiest exam any of us had ever sat, and it gave Harry, Ron, Hermione, and me plenty of opportunity to speak to Hagrid.

"Beaky's gettin' a bit depressed," Hagrid told us, 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—"

We had Potions that afternoon, which went as well as could be expected. My Confusing Concoction had exactly the right consistency, but instead of the dark green it was supposed to be, mine was a bright pink. Snape, who was standing watch 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, where I scribbled everything I'd ever read about medieval witch-hunts. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the greenhouses under a baking-hot sun; then we went back to the common room once more, with sunburnt necks, thinking longingly of this time next day, when it would all be over.

Our second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam I'd ever seen; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where we had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish our way through a patch of marsh, ignoring the misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.

I watched as Harry emerged from the trunk, grinning. He'd done it all brilliantly, and I thought he'd probably get full marks. Ron did very well until he reached the Hinkypunk, which successfully confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Hermione did everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the Boggart in it. After a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming.
"Hermione!" said Lupin, startled. "What's the matter?"
"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, pointing into the trunk. "She said I'd failed everything!"

It took a while to calm Hermione down. When at last she'd regained a grip on herself, it was my turn. I was the last person to do it. I passed the Grindylow, Red Caps, and Hinkypunk with ease, all the time thinking of how to defeat the Boggart. I realised that in the classroom, for that very first DADA lesson, I'd been thinking about it the wrong way. I'd been trying to make my mother less scary by stopping her hurting me, when I should've done what Lupin had told Neville to do to his Snape Boggart — make it look utterly ridiculous. I knew how I was going to do it.

With a worried-looking Lupin watching, I went into the trunk.