The time for exams had finally arrived. The first-years began their examinations earlier than the other students and, accordingly, finished them sooner as well.
Richard found all of the exams extremely easy, with the exception of Potions. Potions, as expected, was the one subject in which he failed to earn the highest mark, receiving only Exceeds Expectations. Still, that was hardly bad, considering that only Hannah and Susan from his House had managed the same result. The rest of the Hufflepuff first-years would probably end up with one grade lower—Acceptable.
Snape was unlikely to hand out failing marks; he was nowhere near as cruel as he liked to appear. A bitter, sarcastic, overly critical misanthrope quick to hand out detentions for the slightest offence—certainly. But he did not usually make it his mission to fail students outright. Although Harry Potter claimed that Professor Snape behaved differently towards him, as though he had hated him from the very first class.
The weather outside was unbearably hot. Harry Potter had once complained to Richard about pain in his scar, and Grosvenor had advised his friend to visit the school matron. Madam Pomfrey's treatment had done little to help Harry, which unsettled Richard somewhat. The transmigrator suspected something far worse behind it—cancer, the scourge of the past that had become his present reality. As a result, Richie worried deeply for Harry, to whom he had grown attached and for whom he felt responsible.
The final examination for all four first-year Houses was History of Magic. Surprisingly, the exam was not overseen by the ghost professor, but by an elderly wizard from the Ministry examination board — Professor Richard Wine.
After the exam, Richard, Harry, and Ron split off from their fellow Housemates, stepped outside, and strolled leisurely along the lakeshore, far from prying ears.
"That's it, no more lessons!" Ron Weasley let out a relieved sigh, his face radiating indescribable happiness. "Harry, you could at least look a little more cheerful. We've still got a week before the exam results are announced, and another whole week to relax after that. They say second-years only get one week off."
Harry rubbed his forehead and grimaced.
"I'm sick of this pain," he said sharply. "My scar keeps hurting. It used to happen before, but only rarely. Now it feels like it's burning all the time. And the matron didn't say anything useful either — she just threw up her hands and gave me a potion that doesn't help."
"Yes, Harry, that doesn't sound good," Richard remarked gravely. "I'm afraid it could be a tumour. As soon as term ends, I'm taking you to Great Ormond Street Hospital. From what I've seen, wizards are completely incompetent when it comes to certain illnesses. Though in other areas they can outdo any doctor—they treat ordinary ailments remarkably well, and very quickly."
"Guys," Ron whispered, lowering his voice, "I heard Dumbledore left the school today."
"Ron, that was the plan," Richard practically glowed with self-satisfaction. "I had to spend an enormous amount of money arranging an unscheduled session of the International Confederation of Wizards. The Headmaster won't be back until late evening. And after lunch, your brothers are supposed to take Snape and Quirrell out of action, so be ready — the operation begins an hour after lunch."
"Snape?!" Ron gasped in horror. "Oh, Merlin! He'll kill them! I mean, sure, I argue with Fred and George sometimes, but I wouldn't wish that on them."
"I highly doubt Snape will actually harm them," Richard said, shaking his head. "Besides, Fred and George promised not to get caught. Considering their extensive experience with pranks and the amount of preparation time they were given, I'd say they'll manage just fine."
"Richie, we promised not to tell anyone," Harry said reproachfully, glancing at his friend.
"I didn't explain anything to anyone," Richard assured him with an expression of complete innocence. "I simply gave the twins a task without telling them why it was necessary. They recently assured me that everything was ready and that we'd have roughly three to five hours. But my paranoia tells me we shouldn't spend more than a couple of hours on the operation."
Harry grimaced again and rubbed his scar with his palm.
"Richie, you mentioned before that we'd need an alibi," he said.
"And we shall have one, lads," young Grosvenor replied mysteriously.
"Yeah?" Ron looked surprised. "But how? We can't be in two places at once. Unless…" His face suddenly lit up with understanding. "You bribed witnesses?"
"No, lads," Richard said, shaking his head again. "You'll see soon enough."
Richie glanced at his watch and added:
"It's time. Let's head to the corridor with the one-eyed witch."
Ron and Harry, thoroughly intrigued by Richard's behaviour, followed after him without hesitation. When he opened the secret passage, the boys stared at it in hushed amazement.
"A secret passage!" Ron blurted out in delight. "Where does it lead?"
"To the cellar of Honeydukes," Richie replied. "Quickly, get inside. The statue will close again in a moment."
Richard displayed some impressive acrobatics as he climbed into the hidden passage. Harry scrambled in after him, and Ron quickly followed.
Some time later, the boys emerged from the shop's cellar into a narrow little alleyway. The door unlocked easily with a standard spell, one Harry Potter had mastered perfectly.
"This is Hogsmeade?" Ron looked around with wide-eyed excitement. "Brilliant!"
"Are we waiting for someone?" Harry asked, craning his neck about just as eagerly.
"We are," Richard answered curtly. "Herrings spawn in June…" he announced clearly into the empty air.
"What?" Ron stared at Richard in bewilderment.
Suddenly, Harry whipped out his wand and froze in horror as an inconspicuous bush straightened up and took on human form. Looking more closely, he realised it was actually a man wearing a military camouflage cloak, his face painted in mottled patterns.
"Birds fly in formation," the soldier replied.
Harry realised the man was indeed a soldier from the assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
"But spawning is better," Richard answered.
Ron stared back and forth between Richard and the soldier in utter disbelief, his eyes bulging.
"What kind of rubbish are you talking about?!" he exclaimed nervously.
(End of Chapter)
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