novelcrest Chapter 385 The Exam Ends
Chapter 385 The Exam Ends
Chapter 385 The Exam Ends
Fudge wore a pinstripe cloak, and a thin layer of sweat beaded on his forehead.
He looked slightly surprised when he saw Harry.
"Hey, Harry!" Fudge greeted him. "Just finished your exams? Almost over, right?"
"Hmm," Harry nodded, giving a brief reply.
Hermione and Ron stood behind him, silent and somewhat reserved.
"What beautiful weather," Fudge said, gazing at the distant lake, then sighed, "What a pity—what a pity—"
His voice lowered, and his expression became serious.
"I have an unpleasant mission on this trip, Harry. The Committee on the Handling of Dangerous Creatures requires a witness to be present when a mad hippogriff is executed, and I happened to be on my way to Hogwarts to check on Black's situation, so I got stuck with this task."
Fudge's words seemed to freeze the air, and everyone's hearts sank.
"So the appeal is over?" Ron suddenly stepped forward, frowning and asking nervously.
"No, no, the appeal is this afternoon." Fudge seemed a little surprised by Ron's directness and looked him up and down.
"Then you might not need to witness the execution at all!" Ron's tone was somewhat agitated, a change that made Sophia frown slightly. "That hippogriff might be released!"
Fudge opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but before he could speak, the castle gate behind him slowly opened, and two people walked out.
Neither of them seemed like a pleasant companion—one was so old he looked like he was about to collapse, while the other was tall and burly with a sparse black beard and fierce eyes.
Harry glanced at them quickly and guessed they were probably representatives of the Committee to Deal with Dangerous Creatures.
The old wizard, his gait hobbling, squinted toward Hagrid's hut and said in a trembling voice, "Oh dear, oh dear, I'm too old for this kind of work. Two o'clock, is it, Fudge?"
His words made Harry feel like a can of cold water had been spilled in his stomach.
Immediately, the burly man with the black beard reached for something in his belt: a large, gleaming axe, its blade reflecting the sunlight.
He slowly and skillfully stroked the blade with his large thumb, testing its sharpness.
Ron's eyes widened, his mouth agape, the words on the tip of his tongue, ready to burst out at any moment.
Before he could speak, Hermione immediately poked him hard in the ribs and shook her head violently toward the castle's entrance hall, signaling him to leave quickly.
"Why are you stopping me!" Ron asked angrily.
"Didn't you see them?" he growled, his face flushed. "They even have axes ready! This is so unfair!"
"Ron, your father works at the Ministry of Magic," Hermione said sharply. "You can't speak to his superior like that!"
Although her words were reasonable, her tone clearly betrayed unease and agitation.
"As long as Hagrid stays calm this time and presents his reasons properly, they won't be able to execute Buckbeak," Hermione's voice trailed off.
However, Harry could tell that Hermione didn't completely believe him.
Her brow was furrowed, her hands unconsciously tugging at her cloak, as tense as they were.
After lunch, Harry, Ron, and Sophia's last exam was Divination, while Hermione had to attend Muggle Studies. The three of them walked heavily up the marble stairs together, none of them saying a word.
On the second floor, as Hermione parted ways with them, she whispered, "Don't forget to come find me as soon as you've booked the place. We'll discuss the plan again before dinner."
"I understand." Ron nodded, but his tone remained sullen.
Harry and Ron continued climbing, reaching the eighth-floor spiral staircase leading to Professor Trelawney's classroom.
They saw many students sitting on the stairs, frantically flipping through their notebooks and textbooks, clearly trying to cram at the last minute.
"I really don't know what they have to study for," Ron said, his tone impatient. "Trillaun just likes to hear nonsensical predictions. Do we have to write them down?"
Harry didn't reply, he just sighed.
Outside the classroom, the waiting line shortened extremely slowly.
As each person came down from the classroom, they would be met with whispered questions from those around them: "What did she ask? Was the exam difficult?" But everyone kept quiet.
"She said the crystal ball told her that if I told her, there would be a great calamity!" Neville shrieked, sounding more like he was making excuses for his poor performance.
"How convenient." Ron sneered, his tone laced with undisguised sarcasm. "Hmph, I'm starting to think Hermione was right." He looked up, pointing his thumb at the trapdoor above him. "She's an old liar."
"That's right," Harry murmured in agreement, his gaze falling on his watch, the hands already pointing to two o'clock.
His mind wasn't on this pointless exam, but rather on Hagrid's hut on the other side of the field.
"Hopefully it will end soon—"
At this moment, Parvati came out of the classroom, looking pleased and beaming with pride.
"She said I have all the qualities of a true prophet," Parvati boasted to Harry and Ron, her pride barely concealed. "I saw so much—well, good luck!" With that, she ran excitedly down the spiral staircase to meet Lavender, who was waiting for her.
"Ron Weasley!" The familiar, dreamlike voice came from the trapdoor, trailing off with a long, drawn-out tone.
Ron turned around, made a face at Harry, then reluctantly took a step up the silver stairs and quickly disappeared on the other side of the door.
Harry is now the last in the group.
He sat down against the wall, and suddenly everything became quiet except for a fly buzzing in the sunlight by the stairwell window.
Although his body was still there, his thoughts had already flown elsewhere, across the field, and landed in front of Hagrid's hut.
Buckbeak's image kept flashing through Harry's mind, along with Fudge's and the indifferent expressions of the representatives of the Committee on the Handling of Dangerous Creatures.
Time seemed to drag on endlessly during the wait, as if even the air itself had begun to freeze.
Finally, about twenty minutes later, Ron's big feet appeared on the ladder, his face even redder than usual, as if the words "I'm angry" were etched onto his face.
"How is it?" Harry asked, standing up.
"It's a complete mess," Ron said angrily. "I didn't see anything, I just made up some things, but I don't think she believed me at all."
"See you in the common room," Harry whispered, Professor Trelawney's familiar, dreamlike voice already coming from the trapdoor.
"Harry Potter!"
Harry took a deep breath, gripped the strap of his backpack, and stepped onto the ladder.
The rooms at the top of this tower are hotter than ever before.
The curtains were drawn, the fire in the fireplace was still burning, and the room was filled with a dizzying, pungent aroma that made Harry cough incessantly.
He stumbled around the haphazardly arranged tables and chairs and came to a large crystal ball, where Professor Trelawney was sitting.
We await his arrival.
"Hello, darling," she said softly, her voice like a distant breeze, "Please look at this crystal ball—look slowly—and then tell me what you see."
Harry leaned down and stared at the crystal ball.
His gaze was fixed on the swirling white mist, trying to discern something, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing appeared except the mist.
"How was it?" Professor Trelawney asked gently. "What did you see?"
The heat in the room made Harry's nostrils burn, and his head felt like it was enveloped in smoke.
He remembered what Ron had said and decided to pretend to talk nonsense.
"Well—" Harry began, "—a dark figure—. Hmm—"
"What does it resemble?" Professor Trelawney asked softly. "Think about it, dear child."
Harry searched his mind quickly, and Buckbeak's image popped into his head.
"A hippogriff with the head of a horse and the body of a winged beast," he said with certainty.
"Is that so!" Professor Trelawney muttered to himself, quite excited, as he quickly scribbled on the parchment on his lap. "My child, you are likely to see the troublesome end of Hagrid's affair with the Ministry of Magic! Look closely—that hippogriff—does it even have a head?"
"Yes," Harry answered firmly.
"Are you sure?" Professor Trelawney pressed on, his tone revealing a morbid obsession. "Are you really sure, child?"
Didn't you see it writhing on the ground, and then a shadow behind it raising a giant axe?
"No!" Harry replied, his stomach churning violently.
In this situation, Harry couldn't be sure he wouldn't throw up.
"No blood? No crying Hagrid?"
"No!" Harry said even more forcefully, more eager than ever to escape the stuffy room. "It looks fine, it's all gone."
Professor Trelawney sighed, somewhat disappointed.
"Okay, kid, that's enough. It's a little disappointing, but I believe you've done your best."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, quickly stood up, picked up his schoolbag, and prepared to leave.
However, just as he turned around, a shrill, deep voice suddenly rang out behind him.
"Tonight."
Harry turned around abruptly and saw Professor Trelawney sitting upright in his armchair, his eyes glazed over, his mouth slightly open, as if he were being controlled by some invisible force.
"What—what did you say?" Harry asked hesitantly, his voice trembling, but Professor Trelawney seemed not to hear him at all.
Her eyes began to slowly move, and a low, eerie voice emanated from her lips, completely different from her usual tone: "The Dark Lord lies there all alone, without friends, abandoned by his men. His servants have been chained for twelve years. Tonight, before midnight—"
This servant will break free of his chains and set off to reunite with his master. The Dark Lord will return with the servant's help, stronger and more terrifying than before. Tonight—before midnight—the servant will set off—to reunite with his master—
As the last syllable faded, Professor Trelawney's head slumped limply to his chest, making a gurgling sound.
Harry stood there, stunned, staring at her in horror, unsure whether she was experiencing a prophetic episode or if something was wrong with her body.
He even hesitated whether he should run to the infirmary to find Mrs. Pomfrey immediately.
However, at that moment, Professor Trelawney suddenly raised his head, looking dazed, as if nothing had happened.
"I'm sorry, my dear child," she said absentmindedly, "it's so hot, you know—I might have taken a nap just now."
Harry continued to stare at her blankly, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something.
"Is something wrong, dear?" Professor Trelawney asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.
"You—you just told me that—that the Dark Lord is coming back—that his servants are going back to him—" Harry stammered.
Professor Trelawney's eyes widened, and his face showed extreme shock.
"The Dark Lord? That person whose name can't even be mentioned?" she asked incredulously. "My dear child, that's no joke—a comeback, good heavens!" "But that's what you just said!" Harry exclaimed urgently. "You said the Dark Lord—"
"I suppose you're asleep too, dear!" Professor Trelawney waved his hand, a satisfied smile on his face. "I certainly couldn't have predicted something so outrageous!"
Harry remained silent, filled with questions, as he climbed down the ladder and descended the spiral staircase from the tower.
His mind was in turmoil: was everything that had just happened a real prophecy, or a carefully orchestrated scheme by Professor Trelawney to make the exam more dramatic? Either way, it unsettled him.
Five minutes later, Harry dashed past the troll guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor tower, Professor Trelawney's shrill prophetic voice still echoing in his mind.
People walked towards the venue, chatting and laughing, enjoying their hard-won moment of freedom.
Harry, however, was tense all over, feeling as if a block of ice had been stuffed inside him.
When he finally squeezed through the portrait opening, panting, and entered the common room, he found it almost empty.
Only on the sofa in the corner, Ron and Sophia sat motionless.
"Professor Trelawney," Harry said breathlessly, "just told me..."
His words abruptly stopped when he saw Ron's expression—his face was ashen, his eyes lifeless, just like when he heard that Percy had become a prefect.
"Buckbeak lost the case," Ron said in a low voice, his voice devoid of any strength. "Hagrid just brought it over."
Harry was stunned.
He took the note from Ron, his fingers trembling slightly.
This time the note was dry, not wet with tears, but the handwriting on the paper was crooked and shaky, as if the writer's hand was shaking so badly that it was almost illegible:
The case was lost. Execution at sunset. You can't help, don't come over, I don't want you to see it.
—Hagrid's head throbbed with fury, a surge of anger instantly rising within him.
He stood up abruptly, the paper in his hand crumpled in his hand.
"We have to get there!" Harry practically shouted. "We can't let him sit there alone waiting for his men!"
Ron stared blankly out the window, his voice filled with despair: "But at sunset—they simply won't let us through, especially you, Harry. There are definitely people watching us at school."
Harry gritted his teeth, stood still, and frantically searched for a solution in his mind.
"Where's Hermione?" he asked abruptly, his gaze sweeping across the empty common room.
"She's there," Sofia said, pointing out the window towards Hagrid's cabin. "She's also at this appeals meeting."