Her head roared like the crowd at a Quidditch match. Removing her glasses, she pressed long fingers against her eyelids and then pinched the bridge of her nose. Exams stressed her out. She always worried if she’d prepared enough. Looking around the room at the heads bent over rolls of parchment, she listened to the scratching of twenty quills writing feverishly. Did they know the answers? Sighing, she perched the spectacles back on her face. Digging in her bag, she found the little blue bottle of Madame Pomfrey’s special potion for indigestion. Experience told her she’d need it today. Silently, she wished she’d also asked for the headache remedy. At this rate, she’d be in bed after her last class.
The potion slid down her throat and had only just begun to cool the fire in her gut when she heard a soft whispering. Jerking her head up, she began scanning the room for the source of the noise. Some students just couldn’t get through their thick heads the importance of these tests. Not only did their advancement depend upon the results, they affected the reputation of the entire school! She wished the Board of Governors took these tests. Then they might understand the stress they created. She doubted any of them knew a thing about what it took to learn Gamp’s Law or demonstrate fifth level transfiguration. Certain those topics hadn’t crossed their minds since they’d wandered the halls of Hogwarts as bubble-headed teenagers themselves, she took delight in the visual image of stuffing her exam up their noses at the next regents’ meeting.
Narrowing her eyes, she found the whispering culprit slouching in the back of the classroom. She fixed a piercing glare on him until he glanced furtively around. When the red-headed boy saw her watching him, he sat up abruptly. His eyes met hers and he flashed an innocent smile, winked, and bent his head back over his paper. Fighting the need to roll her eyes, she pursed her lips and looked back at her own desk. The rolls of parchment seemed to be growing. With an inward groan, she picked up her quill and waded back into the ocean of questions and answers that threatened to overwhelm her. Every now and then, she‘d glance out the high, mullioned windows at the robin egg sky and dream of soaring over the turrets on a top of the line racing broom. It didn’t seem right to be cooped up inside a dark, musty castle on a beautiful day such as this one. Bloody exams!
The large clock in the tower across the courtyard announced twelve o’clock, and the tension in the room released with a collective sigh. Students stretched stiff muscles and cramped hands. Standing, she found herself longing to join them as they filed out of the room in a burst of excited relief. The corridors filled with bubbling laughter as students swarmed en masse to the sun-drenched grounds. Part of her wanted to follow them as they flew toward the open doors at the bottom of the marble staircase. Would it shock them to see her streak past in a blur of robes, rushing out to celebrate the last day of class with them? Probably. She knew what they thought of her. It wasn’t as if that was anything new. When people talked about her, it usually wasn’t to discuss her carefree spirit. In her opinion, rules were made to be followed. Most of the time...The idea of astonishing them all with a perfectly executed Wronski Feint tickled her, and she stifled an uncharacteristic giggle.
However, she knew the desire to fly would have to wait as she turned to prepare for her next class. It would never do to be found unprepared for the following exam. Some might think an occasional moment of slacking off would never hurt them, but she knew better. When the year was completed and reports handed out, how would she defend her actions? The thought of the headmaster’s twinkling blue eyes focused on her in disappointment curdled her stomach. Dumbledore counted on her. She’d not let him down. She reached for the blue glass phial again as she strode down the corridor to gather her things for the last class of the year.
“It’s almost over, isn’t it!” a friend called through the chaos as she passed. Nodding, she turned and pushed through the heavy wooden door into an empty room. The cool air soothed her flushed face as she walked over to a desk and spread the study sheets out over the scarred wood. A quick refresher never did anyone any harm. How she wished the fifth years agreed with her! If they spent half as much time revising as they did playing around, they’d fly through these tests like a Firebolt. Thinking about Fred Weasley’s chatty antics in the last class, she wondered how he and his twin ever passed any of their exams. Those boys knew no boundaries when it came to goofing off. She always felt torn between exasperation and admiration with those two. If they weren’t such geniuses, she’d probably have killed them back in first year. The fact that they were in her own house sometimes embarrassed her, at least until they took the Quidditch pitch. She had to admit she cheered as loudly as the rest of them when those Weasleys put on the Gryffindor uniform.
All too soon, the clock rang out and the time came to face the last test of the year. Mixed emotions filled her as she swept her belongings back into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. The thought of two long months spent savoring the sweet taste of freedom filled her with a fierce joy, but she knew she’d miss the familiar routines of studies and social hours spent with friends inside the walls of her beloved Hogwarts. The ancient castle truly felt like home to her, and the most precious years of her life occurred within the stone walls of the magical academy. Before too long, she would begin the countdown of days until she would return. Right now, she longed to complete her exams and throw her schedule and books into the wind. Steeling herself for one more hour, she strode purposefully toward the classroom. She could do anything for an hour, couldn’t she?
An antsy anticipation seemed to spread through the wizards and witches as they took their seats. Surveying the faces filled with equal parts of eagerness and exhaustion, she took her own place. As the noise died down expectantly, the quizzes were passed out and the work began. There was always that moment of terror, that instant of icy fear that slithered down her spine, reminding her of the minutes she’d flittered away on some unworthy pastime. The voice in her head would tell her how unprepared she was, and how her pitiful attempts to become the best Hogwarts had ever seen would fall quite short. Usually, her determined mind would drive those thoughts away, but this time she froze. Hundreds of theories and practical tips that she should have gone over again coursed through her mind. What if all the work she’d put in this year resulted in failure? What would she do then?
Placing her quill beside her parchment, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Bringing forth Dumbledore’s conversation from the previous morning, she calmed herself with his words. As pre-exam jitters spread through the school, she’d fallen prey to the shakes before breakfast. In his usual omnipotent manner, he’d stopped her on the staircase and smiled benevolently.
“You are one of the brightest witches I’ve ever known. I trust your abilities completely, so how could you possibly let me down?” he’d questioned.
“But Headmaster, this has been such a...trying year. I just don’t know that all I’ve done is enough this time.”
Dumbledore chuckled softly and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Of all the teachers I have ever had the pleasure of working with, you outshine them all, Minerva. Have faith in yourself, dear. I do.”
Opening her eyes, Minerva McGonagall surveyed her students. Each face displayed pensive determination. Yes, they would perform well. They were her students, after all.
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