“ALL OF THOSE times we were in the bathroom, and she was just three toilets away,” said Ron, at breakfast, “and we could’ve asked her, and now..”
“We’ll be lucky if we can even make it to her bathroom,” said Chloe, the very next morning.
It had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into the girls’ bathroom, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be almost impossible.
But something happened in their first lesson, Transfiguration, that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks.
Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today. “Exams? We’re still getting exams?” Seamus yelled. There was a loud bang behind Chloe, as Neville Longbottom’s wand slipped, vanishing one of the legs on his desk.
Professor McGonagall restored it with a wave of her own wand, and turned, frowning, to Seamus. “The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education.” She said, sternly. “The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all revising hard.”
Revising hard! It had never occurred to Chloe that there would be exams with the castle in this state. There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even more darkly. “Professor Dumbledore’s instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible. And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year.” She told everybody, firmly.
Chloe looked down at the pair of white rabbits she was supposed to be turning into slippers. What had she learned so far this year? She couldn’t seem to think of anything that would be useful in an exam.
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Ron looked as though he’d just been told he had to go and live in the Forbidden Forest. “Can you imagine me taking exams with this?” He asked Chloe, holding up his loudly-whistling wand.
Three days before their first exam, McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast. “I have good news.” She declared, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted. “Dumbledore’s coming back!” Several people yelled, joyfully.
“You’ve caught the Heir of Slytherin,” said a blonde first-year girl, at the Ravenclaw table. “Quidditch matches are back on,” roared Wood, excitedly.
When the hubbub had subsided, McGonagall said, “Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with out catching the culprit.”
