Harry Potter and the Order Of the Phoenix [143]
CHAPTER 25- The Final Duel
“AAAHHH!” yelled Harry, as loud as he could, which wasn’t nearly enough to beat the cheering crowd. It wasn’t until the rest of the Gryffindor team came over, ready to congratulate Harry and begin a celebration party, that anyone else realized something was wrong.
“Get Madam Pomfrey!” yelled George to the approaching crowd of fellow Gryffindors, and some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs when he saw the fountain of blood pouring out of Harry’s hand. There were some screams and yelps of fear, but luckily some of the students ran to get the nurse.
“Hold on Harry,” said Fred. He grabbed hold of Harry’s impaled hand and the Snitch, and pulled as hard as he could, trying to separate the two.
“AAAHHH!” yelled Harry. It was even more painful with Fred pulling on it, and it felt like it was only getting more secure. “Fred, you’re not helping!” Harry fumbled for his wand in his pocket, gritting his teeth, and squinting his watery eyes from the pain. He found it, and pointed it at his mangled hand with a shaky arm.
“Sendoni Farmaki!” he grimaced. A small, fluffy, white cloth shot out of his wand, and wrapped itself around his hand. Just as quickly as it had wrapped itself around, though, it became saturated in blood, and was turning from pure white, to a dark red.
Finally, Madam Pomfrey arrived, panting, with red cheeks, with a group of students behind her. She took one look at the bloody cloth, and started pulling Harry to the hospital wing, not saying a word.
It was by far the worst after-Quidditch event that had Harry ever taken part in; staying in the hospital wing for several hours, being constantly visited by people, some he didn’t even know. All of the annoying first year Gryffindors stopped by too: Joe wrote him some sort of incomprehensible get well note (|
CHAPTER 26- The O.W.L.s
Harry sat there at his desk, quill and ink out, ready to go. He looked around to see the rest of his class, and saw everyone was either sitting there quiet, or doing some sort of nervous habits. Ron was biting his fingertips, Hermione was twirling her hair, and Harry just realized that he was batting a quill against his desk.
His first test would be in History of Magic. Harry had heard, from the older students, that this test was by far the most dull and boring, which was expected, since it was their most monotonous class. Harry swallowed hard when Professor Binns entered the room through his chalkboard, many papers in hand.
“I have here your History of Magic O.W.L.s,” groaned Professor Binns as he passed out the tests. “It is a written exam. When you finish, bring it up to me, and if you want, you will be given the Advanced O.W.L. prompt. You may begin.”
Everyone in the class flipped the thick test over and grumbled. The entire examination was short answer and essays. No multiple choice, no true or false, no fill in the blank. All long, boring answers. Harry paced his way through it, not skipping anything. If he didn’t know the answer, he just made something up, wanting it to be over as soon as possible.
An hour and a half later, Harry finished the test. He was exhausted. He almost collapsed onto his desk when he wrote the last letter to the last answer. Wanting to never see the test again for the rest of his life, Harry got up as quickly as he could, and handed it to Professor Binns.
“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” he said. “Do you want the Advanced O.W.L prompt?” Harry groaned quite loudly. While he wanted to do as well as possible, he also didn’t want to think about history for the rest of his life. There was a battle going on in Harry’s mind and, rather unfortunately, the success in school side won.
“Sure, I’ll take it,” moaned Harry. Professor Binns took out a small piece of paper, and handed it to him. Harry walked back to his seat,