The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.

“But on the plus side, no Snape today,” said Ron bracingly.

Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked mildly pleased about something, and when Ron asked her what she had to be so happy about, she simply said, “The hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Ron told her cuttingly. “They might not count as clothes. They didn’t look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders.” I choked on my Orange juice.

Hermione did not speak to him all morning.

Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of O.W.L.s.

“What you must remember,” said little Professor Flitwick squeakily, perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, “is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I’m afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!”

We then spent more than an hour reviewing Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in our O.W.L.

“Accio.” I said pointing my wand at him, and his pointed hat flew into my hand. “This is boring Sir.” I whined as I sent it back.

“You can never practice too much.” He squeaked bluntly.

He rounded off the lesson by setting us our largest amount of Charms homework ever, and a beautiful essay about Summoning charms.

It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration.

“You cannot pass an O.W.L.,” said Professor McGonagall grimly, “without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.” Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. “Yes, you too, Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall. “There’s nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So . . . today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring

Spells, which you would not usually attempt until N.E.W.T. level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your O.W.L.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. “Evanesco.” I said, and on my first try I’d vanishafied my snail, earning twenty points. “No!” I whined. “Professor, can I get him back. His name was Bob. He was my friend.”

“Are you going to keep whining until the end of the lesson?” she asked me in annoyance, but I could tell she was impressed with me.

“Yup!” I chirped, so she pointed her wand at my desk and the snail reappeared. “Yay! Thank you Miss!”

“You’re welcome Miss Willow.” She sighed.

“Do I need to keep going or can I start on my charms essay?” I asked her.

“What makes you complain less?” she asked.

“Well…” I said truly unable to answer.

“Okay, what about, if you bring your snail back by yourself, you can do charms.” She smirked, that was NEWT level stuff.

“I accept.” I said dramatically. “Evanesco!” It disappeared again. “Prodgeo!”  And it reappeared. “AHA!” I began to chant a song called “I’m amazing.”

It went like this:

‘I’m amazing

And you know it.

I’m amazing

I can show it.’

“Okay.” McGonagall said with a cruel look on her face. “Make this mouse disappear.” And she placed it on my desk.

“Evanesco.” Nothing. “Bitch, I said: Evanesco!” And it was gone. “No, mouse! Prodgeo!” It reappeared. “Yay!”

“Try this kitten.” She said placing a cat on my desk.

“Do I keep the cat if I finish?”

“No.”

“Aww, Evanesco!” And it went on my first try. “Prodgeo!” I said quickly. “No! Kitty come back! Prodgeo!” nothing happened. “How rude! I said come back!” And the kitten came back into my arms. “eek!”

“Fifty points to Gryffindor.” Professor MG said and I nearly fell off my stool.

“Fifty?” I squeaked.

“Most people can’t even do that in their seventh year.”

“I’m three years ahead of myself.” I gawped at myself.

“You can’t count. It’s two years.”

“You forgot my age. It’s three years.” I smirked and McGonagall just stared with a half-smile on her face.

“Well, that magic was not bad Willow,” McGonagall said impressed. “Not bad at all.”

“Hear that Hermione,” I said in a loud whisper. “Professor McGonagall thinks I’m clever.” The woman in question pursed her lips.

I started to write out my charms essay, when I was just finished the title, Hermione squeaked: “I did it Professor!” As though she wanted love too. McGonagall seemed to notice what I had.

“Good work Miss Granger.” She said, obviously trying not to laugh. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

By the end of a double period, neither Harry nor Ron had managed to vanish the snails on which they were practicing, though Ron said hopefully that he thought his looked a bit paler. Meanie Mione Mo and I were the only two not given homework, and I’d finished off my charms essay.

By the time we reached Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon, the day had become cool and breezy, and, as I walked down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid’s cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, I felt the occasional drop of rain on my face. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid’s front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with many twigs. As Hermione and I reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind us; turning, we saw Malfoy striding toward us, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table. Judging by the fact that all of them kept looking over at Harry; I was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty.

“Everyone here?” barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. “Let’s crack on then — who can tell me what these things are called?”

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione’s hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Malfoy did a buck-toothed imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question and I picked up one of the twigs and pitched one at Malfoy’s face.

“Five points from Gryffindor!” Grubbly-plank snapped, and I didn’t even care.

He gave a shriek of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twig leapt into the air and revealed itself to be what looked like a tiny pixieish creature made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand, and a funny, flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered. It thought Malfoy was the offender and tried to attack him.

“What about bullying Miss? Doesn’t Slytherin lose points too?” I said in outrage.

“Five points from Slytherin.” The professor added.

The teacher scattered a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. “So — anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?”

“Bowtruckles,” said Hermione. “They’re tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees.”

“Five points for Gryffindor,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank. “Yes, these are bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?”

“Wood lice,” said Hermione promptly, which explained why what I’d taken for grains of brown rice were moving. “But fairy eggs if they can get them.”

“Good girl, take another five points. So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of wood lice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you’d like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle — I have enough here for one between three — you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labelled by the end of the lesson.”

The class surged forward around the trestle table.

“Where’s Hagrid?” he asked her, while everyone else was choosing bowtruckles.

“Never you mind,” said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively

Smirking all over his pointed face, Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest bowtruckle.

“Maybe,” said Malfoy in an undertone, “the stupid great oaf’s got himself badly injured.”

“Maybe you will if you don’t shut up,” said Harry out of the side of his mouth.

“Maybe he’s been messing with stuff that’s too big for him, if you get my drift.”

“You know Malfoy; the bowtruckles aren’t the only ones who can gouge out eyeballs.” I smiled sweetly.

His face turned from a smirk to fear in a second.

“You have to stop threatening people.” Harry said shaking his head as we walked away.

“You’re one to talk.”

“Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid,” said Hermione after we told her what happened. “It’s just playing into Malfoy’s hands to look worried, it tells him we don’t know exactly what’s going on. We’ve got to ignore him, Harry. Here, hold the bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face. . . .”

“Yes,” came Malfoy’s clear drawl from the group nearest us, “Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry’s really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he’ll probably be sent packing straight away.” Malfoy received another bowtruckle to the face, and this time, in anger it cut his cheek.

Trying not to smile, I drew a bowtruckle perfectly.... bahahahaha, I drew a line.

“Miss Potter! Was that you?” Professor Grubbly-Plank growled as she mended Malfoy’s cheek.

“No.” I said innocently.

“It was you wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t do it! Nobody saw me do it! You can’t prove anything!” I quoted Bart Simpson at her and with no witnesses, no points were taken.

“If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time . . .” snarled Harry as we strutted down to Herbology. Yes. We strutted.

“Harry, don’t go picking a row with Malfoy, don’t forget, he’s a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you. . . .”

“Wow, I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life?” said Harry sarcastically.

Ron laughed, but Hermione frowned; I pretended not to listen.

“Meow.” I meowed.

“I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that’s all,” said Harry in a low voice, as they reached the greenhouses. “And don’t say that Grubbly-Plank woman’s a better teacher!” he added threateningly.

“I wasn’t going to,” said Hermione calmly.

“Because she’ll never be as good as Hagrid,” said Harry firmly, fully aware that we had just experienced an exemplary Care of Magical Creatures lesson and was thoroughly annoyed about it.

The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth years spilled out of it, including Ginny.

“Hi,” she said brightly to the others, but then she saw me and we both went.

“Eww, it’s you, go away.” We’re great friends.

A few seconds later, Luna emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him. Many of our classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without as much as a preliminary hello:

“I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him.”

“Er — right,” said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Pavarti and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.

“You can laugh!” Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Pavarti and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing. “But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!”

“Well, they were right, weren’t they?” said Hermione impatiently. “There weren’t any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

Luna gave her a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly. Pavarti and Lavender were not the only ones hooting with laughter now.

“D’you mind not offending the only people who believe me?” Harry asked Hermione as they made their way into class.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Harry, you can do better than her,” said Hermione, and I made a high pitched note of annoyance. “I’ve heard all about her, apparently she’ll only believe in things as long as there’s no proof at all. Well, I wouldn’t expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler.”

“Pick on Luna again, Hermione, and we might have a few problems.” I said in a very forced calm voice. Hermione shot me an affronted look and I ignored her. Luna was there for me last year when no one else understood so if anyone insults her I might hit them...With a shovel...

Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to Harry next.

“I want you to know, Potter,” he said in a loud, carrying voice, “that it’s not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I.”

“Er — thanks very much, Ernie,” said Harry, taken aback but pleased.

To nobody’s surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing us about the importance of O.W.L.s. By the end of the lesson we were given an essay on manure. That’s right Manure. I was going to write about Dragon poop because its Professor Sprout’s preferred brand of fertilizer and I’m a brown nose.

----

I lay there soaking up the last remnants of the day’s sun. One would say it was probably unsafe to do so, but I saw no harm in soaking up the sun...even if I was on the roof.

The daylight hours were steadily disappearing, and the overcast skies were washing back in. It was getting darker and colder, but it had nothing to do with the winter. Darkness is coming and we’re going to have to fight. Darkness always wins.

But not in this moment. For now I had the sun. The sun was on my side. A small patch of sunlight had shot out of the clouds and remained shining down on the roof of Gryffindor tower for the past twenty minutes. Just for me. I was at peace.

“Willow!” a voice called from the nearby window.

“What?” I said getting up.

“Come inside.”

“Make me.” I smirked.

“Wil,” George said with a laugh. “You need to come in here or I’ll have to go out there and get you.”

“Join me then.” I said offering out my hand.

He took it in his and climbed slowly out into the sunlight. We sat on the flattest piece of roof, outside the window of Gryffindor tower.

“Isn’t it warm?” I said closing my eyes and lying down.

“It is...” he said, and I heard him lie beside me.

I placed my hand down in the place between the two of us, but I couldn’t find his hand.

“You’re not together anymore.” A weird voice said in the back of my head.

“You could be.” Another said.

“He doesn’t want you!”  One shrieked.

The voice of Truth, hope and reason had spoken and the bad outweighed the good so my hand found its way to lie on top of me.

If only I knew that as I dragged mine away, George had gone seeking mine...

----

Later that night, I finished my Herbology essay, and in boredom I made my potion’s one look pretty. I scribbled down a terrible drawing of a bowtruckle and Hermione laughed at me.

“That’s the worst picture I’ve ever seen.”

“Show us yours then.” I smirked.

“No...I don’t-“but I’d pulled it out of under her potion’s essay and died laughing.

“This is worse than mine!” I gasped, laughing at her little lump on the page.

“Shut up!” she sulked.

Hermione can’t draw, Hermione can’t draw, Hermione cannot draw.

“I think we should re-do them.” I suggested.

“Okay.” She said sadly, looking at her lump.

And I tapped my wand on a fresh piece of parchment and made it transparent.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously as I skimmed my book for a picture of a bowtruckle. “THAT’S CHEATING!” she said in outrage as I started to trace it.

“She said Draw one, and I am.”

“There is a reason parchment isn’t see-through!” she sulked. “So you can’t do that.”

“There’s a reason we have magic.” I added smartly. “So life is easier.”

“There’s a reason we’re not supposed to do that. We’re meant to learn.”

“It’s a book! I am learning!”

She didn’t speak to me all night.

---

I skipped breakfast the next morning because I’d forgotten about making a play for Drama. However, upon arrival there was a large thing in the way of sharing plays. In other words, we had new people in our class.

“The timetables stuffed up so they weren’t here for the first lesson.” Professor Scott explained. “Let’s play introduce yourself.” She added.

“HULLO! MY NAME IS EVE PENGUIN.” A pretty girl with bright blue eyes said. “I’m in my third year. I’m in Hufflepuff! Oh yeah! Hufflepuff yeah! May the alpacas and Penguins be with you.” She went cross eyed and then looked at the next person to talk.

I think Eve is one of the coolest people I’ve met.

“Hi!” The next girl said. She seemed equally hyper. “I’m Jessica Sugar! I’m meant to be in my second year, but I was bumped up because I’m a smarticle. So I’m in my third year... AND I’M IN RAVENCLAW!  ANYWAY! I LIKE LLAMAS!  And my birthday is August second. Just in case you want to buy me things! I’m kidding! But really. Jokes. But seriously.”

I think Jessica is the coolest person I’ve ever met.

“I’m Shyanna Rose. In my fourth year. And in Slytherin.” A green-eyed, blonde haired girl smiled. “I hate it when people have house hate because I’m in Slytherin. So what. Get over yourself.” She directed at Lee who pulled a face at the mention of Slytherin. I’m not against Slytherins. I’m against most Slytherins. This one seems nice though...”I LIKE FOOD!” she screamed. “Shyanna out bitches.”

I think Shyanna is the most awesome person I’ve ever met.

Eve, Jessica and Shyanna, I noted, are all extremely awesome.

“So, Eve’s a year younger than us.” I told Lucy. “And Jessica is two years, but Shyanna is the same age as me...That’s cool.”

“I can hear your thoughts.”  I heard Jessica whisper next to me.

“What am I thinking then?” I asked her, and I thought about llamas.

“Llamas.” She answered and I freaked out.

“How’d you do that?”

“Well, you’re the infamous Willow Tree.” She told me. “In my first year, there was a group of five of us from our whole year and the teachers like filled us in on you.”

“Say what?” I must have misheard you.

“What?”

“what did you just say?”

“I said what.”

“Before that, I didn’t say anything.” Jessica stared.

“Awkward.” I said. Maybe I misheard her. Maybe she said the truth. Maybe I died again.

“There’s no guys.” Lee whined. “Collin, it’s just you and me...AGAIN!”

But then the door swung open and two very attractive sixth years swaggered in.

“Sorry we’re late.” One said.

“Yeah, we couldn’t be stuffed coming to class.”

“I’m Jack.” Jack said.

“I’m Jason.” The other smirked.

Anyways, I  ended up being called various names from various plays. They included: Apple the fruity, Gene the Jealous, Candy the Crabby and my personal favourite: Severus the snake.

“You’re not allowed to do that play.” Professor Scott laughed. “You can’t have Severus the snake, Flitwick the Fickle and Minerva the Mischievous. You’ll be murdered.”

“You forgot Dumbledore the Disastrous.” Lee shouted, proud of his play.

“Come on miss,” I begged. “Why shouldn’t we have a play that picks on everything about this school? Especially with Umbridge the Ugly!” 
“No!”

“But it’s got Pomona the Proud! And Poppy the Painful!” Lee whined.

“I said no!”

“And we have Gryffindor the Grumpy and Ravenclaw the Rowdy! Hufflepuff the Hyper! Slytherin the Surly!”

“FINE DO THE PLAY! BUT YOU’LL ALL BE EXPELLED!” Professor Scott shouted.

There was a moment when there was silence before we all made eye contact and jumped up and down in excitement.

“YAY!”

“WOOHOO!”

“OH YEAH SCHOOL PLAY YEAH!”

So everyone argued over what characters they would be, and instead of Severus the Snake, I became McGonagall the Mischievous. Now let’s hope she doesn’t kill me.

-------

Later that night, Harry came back from his first detention in a very bad mood. It was one of those moods where he bites everyone’s head off.
“Harry, what happened?” I asked him softly. “It can’t have just been a detention, you’re angrier than that.”

“It was nothing, she’s just horrible.” Harry sulked.

“Harry,” I said raising my brows at him. “What did she do?”

“Mind your own business!” he said, loudly enough for most people in the common room to stop talking and listen.

“Okay. Geez.” I said taken aback.

“You’re always doing this!” he burst out furiously and I sat there confused at why he was yelling at me. “You never mind your business! You’re always nosing around in EVERYTHING!”

“Alright.” I said in an uncertain tone.

“UGH!” he snapped, standing up and glaring at me. The whole common room had fallen silent and all were staring at the two of us. “Now everyone’s watching and you’re acting all innocent! You’re acting like you’re the victim like you always do!”

“Where is this coming from?” I asked confused.

“POOR WILLOW!” Harry shouted out. “No one remembers who you are! You must be so depressed by that! You’re just an attention seeking brat!”

“Still confused here...” I added in staring at my brother.

“You don’t even care about other people!”

“If you’ve forgotten, when I tried to care about you, you started shouting at me. What the hell happened in that detention anyway?”

“Nothing!”

“Bullshit! Why won’t you tell me?” I snapped.

“Mind. Your. Business.”

“Your business is my business!”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” he scoffed.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I said in a deadly voice.

“You don’t tell anyone anything! You bottle it all up inside and act like everything is fine! Then you have the nerve to whine about how no one cares about you!”

“You’re wrong.” I whispered. “I don’t care if people care about me. I care that you don’t.”

“Why should I care for you? What are you to me exactly?”

“I’m your sister, have you forgotten?” I said sarcastically.

“I haven’t forgotten.” Harry spat spitefully. “Not a minute goes past where I wish you weren’t.”

There was a moment’s silence where everyone exhaled in shock. I was staring at Harry with a disgusted expression.

“What’s wrong with you?” I said angrily. “You started shouting at me for no reason! You’ve been like a hurricane of PMS the whole year! Why are you such an asshole to me? You should be thanking me!”

 “Thank you for what?” Harry laughed spitefully.

“For helping you save the philosopher’s stone. For helping you kill the basilisk and save Ginny. For helping you the night Voldemort came back-“

“What did you do that night?” Harry said in a high-pitched voice. “You didn’t do anything! You weren’t tied up, you could have stopped Wormtail!”

“I DIED FOR YOU!” I screamed, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I TOLD YOU TO RUN HARRY! I PUT MYSELF BETWEEN YOU AND HIM!” I took a deep, shuddering breath. “I died that night. I died so you could escape.”

“Didn’t help much did it? Cedric had already-“

“DON’T EVEN TALK ABOUT CEDRIC!” I shrieked. “I didn’t die for Cedric, I died for you. YOU ASSHOLE I HATE YOU!”

“Willow enough.“ It was Hermione.

“You think you’re innocent in all this don’t you?” I said turning my eyes on her. “’be nice to Harry, he’s been through so much’” I mimicked her voice. “What has he been through that I haven’t?”

“I was locked under the stairs for ten years! I was treated worse than a house - elf!” Harry argued and I looked at him.

“And I had a nice childhood did I?” Harry swallowed hard, unable to meet my eye. “You win Harry. You hate me, and now I hate me too.”

I left the common room and found myself face-to-face with Dumbledore’s gargoyle.

“Nutmeg.” I sneered, and I went up the stairs into his office.

It was empty apart from Dumbledore sitting at his desk.

“Alright. I accept. I’ll do the task. I’ll do it.” I said to Dumbledore.

“You realise what You’ll have to do-“

“I do. I accept.”