[Living for Tomorrow] Chapter 13 - OWLs

The goblins’ attack on his grandparents had pushed Harry to train harder than ever before. But he was not the only one who got a feeling of urgency. Sirius had been shaken badly by that incident, too. Seeing them almost dying at the hands of the goblins had been like a wake-up call for him because Euphemia and Fleamont Potter were even more important than his biological parents.

While his mother and father burnt him off the family tapestry and shunned him when he was a child, the old Potter couple took him in, raised him, and treated him like their second son without asking for anything in return. As years passed, he became no different from James in their eyes; they loved him as if he were their own, and in exchange, Sirius loved and respected them too. The two of them meant the world to him.

Now, Harry and his godfather were in the midst of honing their Transfiguration skills in battle, training for a second clash against the goblins. They both knew that it was not over. It couldn’t be. The goblins were infamous for their violent and vengeful nature. They would surely not let this matter rest.

Due to their enchanted armour and shields, goblins were difficult to deal with. Unless someone used the Unforgivables, most curses could not easily bypass goblin silver. However, Dark Magic was dangerous. It could have irreversible effects on the caster’s psyche, especially the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse, which required hatred and a strong desire to kill or to hurt someone.

It had not been only Dumbledore who had advised Harry against going down that path; Sirius had taken him aside and given him examples that he had seen firsthand of what effects Dark Magic could have on those who used it. After all, half of his family had been Death Eaters. If there was anybody who could talk about it, it was him.

With the Unforgivables being a last-resort option that could not be used lightly, they had to find another way of dealing with the goblins and their armour.

One method was to make heavy use of Transfiguration and Conjuration. Goblin silver armour may have been capable of defending against most spells, but that did not mean it was all-powerful. Venomous snakes and insects, poisonous substances, traps, strong physical attacks, and Transfiguration spells that ensnared the opponent were all valid ways of dealing with heavily armoured enemies.

Now, two months after that incident, Harry and Sirius were chasing one another through a thick and dark forest, locked in a peculiar magical fight. They were not throwing Curses, Hexes, and Charms at each other, as was the norm. Instead, they seemed to be focusing mostly on Transfiguration. In spite of that, the magical battle was not slow-paced in the least. For the two combatants, not being allowed to cast Shielding Charms made the whole thing more nerve-wracking than usual.

The leaves on a tree branch turned into a flock of birds that lunged at Harry’s back, but he pointed his wand over his shoulder, and a very large net shot out, capturing them all in one go.

“Come on, Harry, you have to attack too. You can’t just react to what the enemy does and defend; you have to retaliate!” Sirius shouted when he saw Harry throwing himself behind the thick trunk of a large tree.

“I’m trying, damn it,” Harry shouted back. “What’s with you lately, anyway? Did you pump your arse full of steroids?”

Sirius snickered at his question while casting a mental Revealing Charm to check the area ahead of him.

“I just stopped drinking myself into a coma every week. I’m surprised myself how much more energy I have now that I’m not nursing a terrible hangover every other day. Not just that, but –"

Sirius’ words died in his throat because the leaves-covered ground started shaking all over.

“Bollocks!” he cursed.

Harry hadn’t been idle while hiding behind his tree. More than 20 snakes were slithering towards Sirius now at a great speed.

A ring of fire erupted from his godfather, incinerating the dry leaves on the ground along with the snakes and even setting two trees on fire.

“Hey! I thought we weren’t supposed to use Charms!” Harry shouted from behind his tree while secretly conjuring several wooden bear traps with rubber teeth; they were for the sake of inconveniencing Sirius and slowing him down, not tearing his legs apart.

“Give me a break, will you? You see two dozen snakes charging at you; you tell me you’ll keep your calm?” Sirius yelled while conjuring a stream of water to put out the fire before it got out of control.

Taking advantage of that moment when his godfather was unable to attack, Harry sprang from his hiding spot, breaking into a run.

“Goddamn it!” Sirius muttered, and after extinguishing the last spark of fire, he started running after Harry.

He let out yet another cuss word as he almost stepped into the bear trap that Harry had conjured and dropped in his passing. Thankfully, it wasn’t the first time that they had fought using only Transfiguration, so he knew the boy’s usual tactics; he knew what to expect from him.

He stepped over the bear trap and over the next two that he saw, and laughed out loud. 

“You’ll have to do better than th- Yeowch!” he suddenly yelled as the bear trap that he had avoided unexpectedly jumped up from the ground and snapped shut around his foot. Harry had cast an Animation Charm on it!

“Oy! You said no charms!” Sirius screamed after Harry before casting a mental Finite on the bear trap.

“You were the first to start it! And, as long as it’s cast on the environment, not a direct charm against you, why not?” came the boy’s laughter. 

Sirius got up to his feet, preparing himself to start running after Harry once again, when the blades of grass on the ground suddenly turned into ropes and wrapped around his arms and legs.

It turned out that Harry hadn’t left. He had been planning on catching him with that charmed bear trap all along. But when he stepped closer to him, Sirius’s silhouette abruptly shrank, and the ropes tying his legs and arms came loose as he transformed into a dog.

Harry’s eyes widened, not having expected Sirius to make use of his Animagus form in that manner.

Not liking his chances in a head-on battle against his godfather when it came to only Transfiguration, Harry quickly threw himself behind the closest tree, taking cover. A second later, his body suddenly disappeared, and a flutter of wings filled the air as a raven took flight, escaping.

Sirius instantly switched back to his human form and threw a spell at a tree’s bough ahead of the raven, casting an Animation Charm on it. The tree bough seemed to come to life, and its branches, branchlets, and twigs suddenly moved to block the raven’s way, catching its wings in the foliage.

Not even two seconds later, a weighted net was shot from Sirius’ wand and captured the raven, making it unable to move even an inch.

“I cast the Charm on the environment, not on you, so it counts!” Sirius let out a bark-like laughter as he levitated the immobilised raven down from the tree.

Seeing the captured bird, unable to do a thing as it lay on the ground, trapped by the net, he grinned with a look of superiority on his face.

“Still got it. You’re a decade too early to be pulling one over on me, haha! Well then, what are you waiting for? Turn back. Or are you too embarrassed?” Sirius said, grinning, as he aimed his wand at the raven, intent on forcing him to revert to his human form through the Animagus Reversal Spell. 

However, Sirius’s handsome face revealed an expression of surprise when his spell didn’t work.

“What the heck?” he muttered, confused. 

At that very moment, a wooden stick jabbed him softly in the back, and a familiar voice came from behind.

“Don’t move.”

It was Harry.

For a few seconds, Sirius couldn’t find his words.

“How?” he asked, raising his hands in surrender as he turned to face him. “I saw you turn into an Animagus myself!"

“Did you really see me turn?” Harry asked with a smirk, greatly enjoying his reaction of disbelief.

“...No way,” Sirius muttered as realisation dawned on him. “What sort of ninja shit did you pull?”

Harry burst into laughter at his godfather’s choice of words.

“Yes, way,” he nodded proudly to himself. “When I hid behind that tree, you saw my body disappearing and then the raven flying away, right? But I didn’t transform. I just turned invisible and then conjured a raven before letting it loose. Look,” he said, and aimed his wand at the raven, Vanishing it.

“You totally hoodwinked me this time. You little shit, I never saw it coming!” Sirius said, as he looped his arm around Harry’s neck and gave him a noogie.

A few minutes later, Harry and Sirius got rid of all the things that they had conjured and cancelled the effect of any charms they may have cast, cleaning the area before leaving.

“How did you come up with something like that?” Sirius asked, still thinking about their fight.

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“It was on the spur of the moment, to be honest. But it didn’t come to me out of nowhere either; I’ve been planning all sorts of strategies for many situations. It’s all I’ve been thinking about ever since the goblins attacked us. This time, we were lucky that it was just goblins and not a group of Death Eaters. But what if the attackers were people as skilled as you or Flitwick, or if it was Voldemort himself who attacked... what could I have done in that situation?”

Adopting a serious look, Harry continued:

“I can’t even beat you or Flitwick in a fair, face-to-face duel, to say nothing of a whole group of Death Eaters or Voldemort himself. . . so I have to fight dirty, like I did against the goblins when I used the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. It’s the only way for me to level the playing field.”

“If only James could see you now,” Sirius said wistfully and ruffled his messy hair. “You did great. Truly. But maybe you should save these tactics for when you’re facing an enemy. Don’t bully your godfather, who is trying to help you train. You see, the Gryffindor in me doesn’t approve of such scummy tactics-”

“You’re just mad that you got pranked,” Harry said, grinning.

“Is that so? Okay... Just you wait. I’ll be employing similar tactics next time. We’ll see then how much you’ll like having one of the Marauders as your opponent.”

Harry wasn’t intimidated.

“Give me your worst, old man. You see this pouch here?” he said, showing him a small leather pouch strapped at his waist. “I got a bag full of tricks. Like this one.”

Sirius’ eyes widened as Harry shoved his arm up to his elbow into the small pouch before pulling out a cabbage the size of a bowling ball.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, don’t do it, Harry. I mean it,” Sirius said as he took out his wand.

“Haha! You better start running.”

⁂

It was a warm Sunday in May, in the afternoon, and dozens of students from all houses were outside playing, walking by the lake, flying on their brooms, or competing in various outdoor games. Alas, despite the beautiful weather, the fifth and seventh-year students were nowhere to be seen; with the OWLs and the NEWTs just around the corner, they were all holed up in the library or their dorm rooms, studying. These were the most important exams of their lives; it would not be an exaggeration to say that their results would dictate the course of their future careers, so their level of stress was through the roof.

Nevertheless, not all fifth and seventh years were the same; there were always a handful of students who simply did not care about their exams or a select few who were supremely confident in their knowledge and skill and did not feel the need to cram before exams.

Harry Potter was part of the latter. While Florent, Elora, and Elspeth looked like they were on the verge of crashing out, muttering various incantations or magical laws and theories on repeat, as though they were possessed, Harry was on the rooftop of the Ravenclaw Tower, sitting on one of the stone benches and reading a newspaper, seemingly with no care in the world.

If the Slytherins were proud of their underwater common room that opened into the Black Lake, the Ravenclaws prided themselves on the fact that they were the only ones with access to a terrace on the rooftop of their tower. No other house had anything like it. Harry was not the only Ravenclaw there; at least a dozen other students were around, many of them loud and boisterous as they laughed or played games.



Still, they all gave him a wide berth, careful not to get too close to him. Several months had passed since he killed that group of goblins in Pitt-Upon-Ford, but that incident, along with his earlier exploits like putting those seventh-year Slytherins in the hospital and allegedly playing a part in Professor Quirrell’s death the year before, had left most people afraid of him. It was as though the floor was lava in a radius of two metres around him.

Despite the fact that the Charms OWL was going to take place tomorrow, Harry was taking a rare moment to relax. He sat quietly, enjoying the fresh breeze drifting in from the Forbidden Forest and the gentle warmth of the sun on his skin as he sipped on a cold glass of orange juice.

‘Ah, this is life,’ he thought. ‘If only there were no Voldemort or a bunch of murderous goblins after my family.’

Speaking of murderous goblins, the newspapers were still talking about it, or at least alluding to it, every time the goblins made it in the news for one reason or another. It was as though the journalists were trying their hardest to link anything negative about the goblins to the attack on the Boy-Who-Lived’s family.

‘Now they’re saying the goblins are most likely increasing the taxes because I wasn’t punished for killing their scummy brethren, huh?’ Harry thought as he went over a new article with a sensationalistic headline.

It was an article reporting Gringotts’ decision to increase taxes on all operations conducted through the bank, including monetary transactions, deposits of money or objects, withdrawals, currency exchange, and more.

Exhaling loudly in annoyance, he flipped the page of the newspaper and moved on to the next article.

French Businessman Acquires Plot of Land in Araneshire

He was about to skip it, assuming it was just another one of those “Brits vs. French” articles, when his eyes caught a familiar surname.

‘Delacour?’

His curiosity piqued, he began reading from the start. Apparently, Jean Delacour, a wealthy French wizard, had purchased a sizable plot of land in Araneshire, a quaint, picturesque hamlet located only a few kilometres from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, just across the Black Lake, on its eastern shore.



The article raised questions about the legality of foreign wizards acquiring land in Great Britain (especially French), and even included an interview with an elderly witch from Araneshire who was voicing her disapproval of the situation.

‘Could he be related to Florent?’ Harry wondered.

What were the chances that a French boy transferred to Hogwarts and, less than a year later, a French man bearing the same surname bought a plot of land nearby? If it had not been for the fact that Florent was studying just as hard as everyone else at that moment, he would have definitely gone to him to ask him about it.

‘I better not bother him now. It can wait until later tonight.’

He flipped the Daily Prophet to the other side, turning his attention to the next page.

Selwyn Family’s Two House Elves Gone Missing.

He frowned as he read the headline. Was this the seventh or eighth case already? He had lost count. Over the past school year, house-elves had started going missing all over the place, but mostly from the old pureblood families. He had asked Remy about it two or three times, but his family’s house elf didn’t seem to know anything about it. And, after everything they had been through together, Harry had no reason to doubt him anymore.

‘If not for Remy coming after me, Gran and Gramps would have died.’

The page of the newspaper crumpled as his hand clenched into a fist at the memory of that. He was in the midst of remembering that terrible day, the newspaper article forgotten now, when a familiar voice suddenly whispered in his ear:

“Boo!”

Harry jumped as though he had been burnt and threw himself forward with a roll, instantly turning around, his wand already in his hand.

His housemates gave him a weary look as they backed away, but the one who had scared him burst into laughter.

“Ah, damnit, you got me good this time,” Harry said in chagrin, but he smiled as he tried to calm his rapidly beating heart.

The culprit was none other than his brother, Matthew, who was sporting a shit-eating grin on his face as he hovered on his Nimbus, right outside the rooftop terrace.

Matt wasn’t alone; next to him were also the three Weasley brothers and half a dozen more of his friends from Gryffindor.

“It wasn’t enough that you won the Quidditch Cup; now you come to gloat too?” said Harry, pretending to be annoyed. 

“Maybe we wouldn’t have lost if you had been our Seeker,” piped in a sixth-year Ravenclaw who happened to be on the rooftop at that moment.

“Simon?” Harry asked, surprised. “What are you doing here? I thought you were helping Lizzie?”

“Just came out to get some air. I’ve been helping her study for half a day now.”

Harry had to give it to him: despite the fact that he had to compete with a ridiculously good-looking French boy for Lizzie’s heart, Simon had not given up. He was nothing if not determined. The best part? The lively redhead had actually started opening up to him lately.

‘Him helping her study for her OWLs surely must’ve earned him quite a few points in her books.’

“But shouldn’t you be studying for OWLs too?” asked Simon. 

Harry shrugged. “It’s Charms. Other than not showing up, it’s almost impossible to fail. Anyway, what are you up to, Matt?” he asked, turning to his younger brother.

“We’re about to play a game of Quidditch. Wanna come?”

Harry glanced at him with an unsure look on his face.

“I don't think that's a good idea…” he asked in a hesitating voice. 

“Don’t worry, they’re all okay with it,” Matt reassured him.

“Come on, Harry. Who in their right mind would pass on the chance to say that they’ve played Quidditch with a future Dark Lord?” said a redheaded boy with a wide grin on his face. 

“Oy, George!” Matt rebuked him in annoyance.

“You’re right, my handsome brother. I can’t wait to tell my future children and wife how I toppled Dark Lord Harry Potter off his broom with a bludger,” Fred piped in, too.

Harry found himself smiling at their banter. “Well, if the children want me to teach them Quidditch, who am I to say no? Haha. Just let me get my Nimbus, and I’ll be right back.”

With Fred and George making light of the situation and with half a dozen other Gryffindors seemingly having no issue playing Quidditch with Harry despite his reputation, a young Ravenclaw girl who happened to be on the rooftop terrace at that moment gathered her courage and asked if she could also join. It was a third-year girl of Asian descent; Harry didn’t know her name, but it appeared that Matthew did.

“Cho? O-Of course you can join if you want to,” the redhead said, his face turning pink.

“Brilliant! Just wait for me!” she chirped before running inside to get her broom.

“My, my, Matthew. You’re not content with Hermione; now you’re going for Cho too?” Seamus flew to him and asked, shoving him playfully with his broom.

With Cho breaking the ice, half a dozen other Ravenclaws decided to join in on the fun.

Fifteen minutes later, nearly forty students showed up on the Quidditch pitch, some with their personal brooms, others with the brooms provided by the school, and started an impromptu game of Quidditch, but without a golden snitch. Seeing as there were so many teams, they did not want the games to last too long, so they could rotate quickly.

⁂

Days passed. It was Thursday, the fourth day of exams. As was the case every year, the theoretical exams were held in the morning and the practical ones in the afternoon.

Now it was evening. Done with the practical OWL example for Defence Against Dark Arts, Harry was having dinner together with the rest of his housemates in the Great Hall.

Although they were barely halfway through the OWL exams, one could feel a sense of relief emanating from the students in the Great Hall. The reason for that was that the bulk of the difficult exams had already passed.

The Charms OWL was on Monday, Transfiguration on Tuesday, Herbology on Wednesday, and DADA that day, on Thursday. The only other difficult exams left were Potions and Arithmancy. However, Arithmancy was not a popular elective; few students had chosen it. 

“You’re never going to live this down! Ahahaha! Hahahah!” Lizzie was laughing with tears, holding her sides from pain.

She was not the only one having the time of her life; Simon and Harry were snickering too, and even the quiet girl, Elora, was laughing so hard that her big, round glasses had fogged up. 

Only Fleur could do nothing but hide her face in her palms, not even feeling like eating anymore.

“Stop it, you!” she muttered, unable to look anyone in the eye. “If you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to leave and ‘ave my dinner in the kitchens, with the ‘ouse elves!”

Despite her threats, the others couldn’t easily stop giggling.

Fleur let her forehead fall on the table with a thud, rattling the plates and the cutlery with the strength of the blow.

The reason for this entire scene was that, during the practical DADA exam, Fleur Delacour and Elora Dunn had been tested together; the students were called in alphabetical order of their surnames, in groups of five or so at a time.

As was the case in all recent years, students were asked to show their expertise in identifying curses and their Counter Curses, casting Defensive Charms, and various offensive spells at a dummy.

As chance made it, however, that year, the examiners also brought a boggart to test the students. And that was the source of Fleur’s plight.

Fleur’s Boggart had turned into a ridiculously pretty girl with long silvery hair... a captivating, bewitching girl with an inhuman charm. It was a Veela. It was none other than her own appearance when she was not disguised as a boy.

Fleur had easily dispatched the boggart, but the fact that Florent Delacour’s biggest fear was a beautiful girl had made her the butt of all jokes.

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Elora!” Fleur muttered darkly.

“There, there, don’t cry now,” Harry patted Florent’s shoulder, snickering. “If you see any beautiful girls coming for you, just send them my way! I’ll deal with them myself!” he said self-righteously.

“Et tu, ‘Arry?” Fleur said dramatically before starting to laugh together with everyone else.

Nevertheless, other than having some fun at Florent’s expense, Harry and the rest didn’t make a big deal out of it. The fact that his boggart was a beautiful girl didn’t raise any eyebrows, especially for Harry, who knew that someone had slipped a Love Potion into Florent’s drink a few months ago, during Valentine’s Day.

“Laugh all you want, Elora, but as zey say, it is those who laugh last who laugh best! It shall be my turn to laugh when I see ‘ow you barely scraped an Acceptable in your DADA OWL! Hmph!” Fleur snapped at the giggling redhead, her annoyance making her speech fall into a thicker French accent.

“And what are you laughing at?” Fleur barked at the sniggering Harry, too.

Unfortunately, that was all that she could say. At that point, nobody had any doubts that Harry would get an Outstanding in his Charms and DADA exams. Not only had he become infamous for his battle against the goblins in Pitt-Upon-Ford, but his ability to cast all spells nonverbally had put him in a league of his own.

⁂

It was summer. The 1992-1993 school year ended, and, just like usual, Albus Dumbledore was faced with the ever-present dilemma: who was he going to hire for the position of DADA professor?

By now, it was an open secret that someone had placed a powerful jinx on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. There was hardly anyone in Britain who hadn’t heard the rumours. The way no teacher had lasted more than a year and the fact that so many of them met with misfortune once their time was up had more or less confirmed what people already suspected.

Finding qualified people to teach DADA was not difficult. Finding qualified people who were willing to teach it, however, was another thing altogether.

‘I’ve been advertising the DADA vacancy for five weeks now, but no candidates have contacted me. . .’ Dumbledore thought, frowning as he sat at his desk and did some paperwork.

He let out a sigh.

‘Do I have no choice but to bring Severus in?’

He had taught Gilderoy Lockhart’s class after the sleazy scumbag had been arrested, but he could not keep doing it the next year as well. He wasn’t a spring chicken anymore, and his duties as the headmaster were rather time-consuming too.

However, he was hesitating. It was not his lack of complete trust in Severus Snape that made him reticent. No, the biggest reason why he was hesitating was that Fleamont Potter was one of Hogwarts’ governors. And the old wizard knew that Severus Snape had been the one to snitch the Prophecy to Voldemort. 

‘He only holds one vote, but if he loses his head and reveals the secret to everyone, it would be a disaster.’

The old Potter couple could be rather impulsive and unpredictable at times. Dumbledore was afraid not only that the secret of the Prophecy would become widespread but also that everyone would learn of the part that Severus Snape had played in it.

‘I should meet up and discuss this matter with Fleamont privately before I suggest Severus' candidacy to the Board of Governors.’

Summoning a piece of parchment, the Headmaster dipped his quill in the bottle of ink and started writing a letter.

He was halfway through it when the fireplace suddenly roared to life, despite it being August, and a human head appeared in the flames.

“Dumbledore. I need to speak to you. Urgently.”

It was Lucius Malfoy. Unlike his usual manner of speech, this time around, he didn’t put up any airs. With how sharp he was, Dumbledore instantly noticed his agitated state of mind.

The Headmaster’s wand lit up briefly, and a wave of magic washed over the office before he said:

“You may Floo over if you wish.”

Green flames erupted in the fireplace, and a tall, handsome man with long, platinum blonde hair stepped inside the office. Not even bothering to say a greeting first, Lucius Malfoy stated:

“Barty Crouch Junior has broken out of Azkaban.”

Dumbledore was not one to easily show his emotions on his face, but the news he had just heard made his eyes widen in surprise.

“How did he escape?”

From the very day of its creation, nobody had ever broken out of Azkaban. Furthermore, Barty Crouch Junior was one of the most vicious and heinous followers of Voldemort. He, alongside Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers, had tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom to insanity.

As Malfoy sat down in the chair across from the desk, Dumbledore could see more clearly now that his forehead was damp with sweat and his face looked pale.

“He did not tell me that. . . we-, we did not sit around and chat. I was ambushed. He held me at wandpoint the entire time. He does not have a high opinion of me, to put it lightly. The fact that I had not ended up in Azkaban like he did enrages him.”

“How did you walk away unscathed?” Dumbledore asked.

“He wants my help. He demands I help him bring the Dark Lord back,” said Malfoy and ran a shivering hand through his hair. “He claims that he has met him already. . . and I cannot find it in myself to doubt him.”

He unbuttoned the sleeve of his white shirt and rolled it up, showing Dumbledore the black tattoo of a skull and snake on his forearm. It was the Dark Mark, and it was almost as clear and vivid as it had been in the days when Voldemort was alive.

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂
AN: I posted some screenshots from the game, but you could also search for some videos on youtube if you're interested in seeing more of Hogwarts. There are quite a few who did walkthroughs, exploring the castle for those who cannot play Hogwarts Legacy themselves.