Exam fever had hit Hogwarts: throughout the school, children walked around in zombie like dazes, their gazes cast upwards as they listed potions ingredients, replayed goblin rebellions and cast spells in their heads. The Hufflepuffs, whose hardworking attitude and respect for their professors gave them good study habits, were the most relaxed, sensibly dispersing study periods with breaks to avoid fatigue. The inquisitive, intelligent Ravenclaws, most of whom read their school-books for pleasure, were also calm, using their morning breaks to revise and their lunchtimes to pool ideas at the dining table. The Gryffs, on the other hand, were, generally speaking, the most panicked House: frantically reading as they shovelled down their meals, running back to their tower the minute classes were over and generally cramming every spare moment with revision. Some even visited the library.

The ambitious Slyths, who despite having read as much as the Ravens and revised as diligently as the Puffs, were, as a rule, almost as anxious as the Gryffindors and while pride prevented their outwardly calm facades from slipping and common sense insisted that they take regular breaks from their study, the little snakes' heads were practically buzzing as they fought to keep millions of factoids from scuttling out of their brains. Theo had actually woken up screaming in the last week of May, having dreamt that he had missed his first exam. After the initial alarm, Draco had teased Theo amicably for being such a swot- only to wake up in considerable distress after a dream in which he opened his results to find ‘T’s.

In such circumstances, Hagrid’s dragon, Belinda was a very welcome distraction and Harry, Blaise, Theo Draco and Hermione spent their carefully apportioned ‘leisure time’ walking down to Hagrid’s hut and listening to his funny anecdotes: Belinda was now bigger than his hut, consumed three sheep a day and was, in Hagrid’s words ‘a righ’ clever lass.' Having had a few facts of life explained to her, such as the fragility of human bodies and Hagrid’s adoration, Belinda, who was a good-hearted, if rather dim dragon, did her best to be gentle around the Game Keeper and, despite the fact that dragons are usually solitary, she had, gradually, come to accept Hagrid as a friend. Now, Belinda’s greatest delight was showing off her air-acrobatics to Hagrid, who whooped and clapped and praised her lavishly, much to her delight, and feed her caramelised hams, which Belinda munched like sugar-cubes.

While the anecdotes were invariably entertaining, if the children called whilst Mr MacFusty was with Hagrid, they were escorted down to the forest to visit Belinda. There is nothing more beautiful and majestic than a dragon in flight and, whilst clumsy on terra firma, Belinda danced in the air, somersaulting, barrel-rolling, spiralling downwards in tight circles or, sometimes, all three at once. When Belinda didn’t fly, the children stood outside her warded enclosure, watching her puffing intricate smoke spirals, rings, balls, pear-shapes, ovals and mushrooms. The red-bearded Mr MacFusty explained the nuances of each shape and what they would indicate to watching dragons: although dragons could understand Parseltongue, amongst their own species smoke signals were most commonly used: they could be seen from a long distance and, when you’re talking to a Hungarian Horntail, this is a definite benefit.

Out in the bright, flower-scented, summer air, flanked by two wizards, whose power, both physical and magical, assured the children of their safety, Harry, Draco, Hermione, Blaise and Theo watched Belinda play and, in doing so, almost forgot that their dreaded exams were drawing near.

OoOoO

Like all nightmare beasts, the exams, when they arrived, were not anyway near as intimidating as their approaching shadow had been. In fact, when Harry sat down to his paper, he soon realised that the heat was worse than the questions, which flowed from his pen like water. Of course, as soon as he left the exam room, Harry remembered something that he should or, worst still, should not have written but, after the first paper, Blaise firmly vetoed further post-mortems of their exam papers; there were only so many times, Blaise said, that his ears drums could withstand having Hermione screeching in one and Draco wailing in the other.

The practical exams, on the other hand, were wholly successful: under Professor Dumbledore’s tranquil gaze, Harry prepped his ingredients and brewed a perfect Forgetfulness Potion without having to pause for thought, his pineapple tap-danced perfectly in time and Harry, grinning cheekily, even charmed it to bow at the end of it’s performance and, after noticing the pretty cloisonné cat decoration on his snuff box, even the dour Professor McGonagall smiled.

The other Slytherins’ practicals were equally successful and it was with a light heart that Harry entered their final exam, History of Magic. While Binns bored them half to death, the Slyths were particularly lucky in having an avid historian: Greg loved history which, in his own words, was ‘just remember’n stuff what happened an’ why it happened”. As it was one of the few subjects in which he was talented, Greg studied hard and contributed to the study group by retelling history; at first, the accounts had been short and simple but Greg was a good storyteller and, with a little encouragement, his contributions flourished into vivid, living stories in which historical figures were characters with whom the other children could relate. Unsurprisingly, the Slyths found these histories far easier to remember than Binns’ dry facts, which went in one ear and out the other, and, when Harry sat down to his paper, he scribbled away with enthusiasm, his mind full of the time-saving devises of Gaspard Shingleton, who had invented the self-stirring cauldron because his wife, Alexis, had died during a Quidditch match, leaving the poor potioneer to raise several children and earn a living concurrently.

Seemingly seconds after the exam had begun, Professor Binns’ voice echoed through the hall, telling them to put down their quills and roll up their parchments. Harry threw down his quill and grinned over at Draco; goodbye exams, hello summer holiday!

“That was a breeze” sighed Theo as they slouched out of the exam room, hands deep in their pockets and shoulders back.

“Yeah” grinned Draco “I remembered everything. Thanks Greg”

“Yeah, cheers Greg!”

“Don’t mention it” flushed Greg, staring at his shoes.

“Thank Gods the exams are over, though” sighed Milly “I thought my brain would burst”

“Me too” Harry added, nodding. “It actually feels quite strange to not have to revise for anything.”

“Yeah” nodded Vin, emphatically “Can’t wait to get out my paints: I’ve not done art for ages.”

“Hey, why don’t we grab some food and have a picnic beside the lake” Blaise suggested.

“Yeah” grinned Tracy “It’s been ages since I did that.”

Noticing that Vin looked torn, Pansy said “The lake’s really beautiful, you could paint that.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan”

“Dad’s sent us a box of ice creams” beamed Draco “We can take those along too”

Harry slapped his hand against his forehead.

“Harry?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“My quill! I left the quill nib Draco’s dad bought me in the exam room!

“Damn, and it’s on the sixth floor.” Theo sighed; they had just stepped into the entrance hall and their clothes were sticky with perspiration.

“Don’t worry” Harry grinned “I’ll nip up and get it. You set up the picnic.”

“I’d come with you but my trunk’s locked and the ice-cream’s inside it” said Draco, frowning.

“Don’t worry.” Harry smiled “I’ll see you in a bit.”

OoOoO

Running up two floors, Harry span into the girls’ bathroom and gratefully slid into the cool, soft light of the Chamber of Secrets. As the Secret Room had another entrance here, it was a fantastic short-cut for the towers and Hissy was always pleased to have a chat.

“Harry, hatching, you sssssmell of sssssalt and your sssscales are damp”

“Hi Hisssssy” Harry turned, looking up at the handsome, pyriform face of the king of serpents. “I’ve been sssssssitting in a hot nessst all afternoon”

“Poor Harry. Poor little baked hatchling. I will carry you.” Hissy offered, indicating his soft, broad back. “Hop on, little one.”

Riding through the beautiful Chamber on the back of a basilisk, the wind ruffling his damp hair, Harry felt glad to be alive.

oOoOo

When Harry stepped out of the Secret Room, however, he was not on the sixth floor but, strangely enough, in a part of the school he’d never seen before: a short, straight, stone passageway with long, very thin windows. Harry's surprise was such that he just stood and stared, not remembering to catch the door before it was too late.

Stranded in a strange and eerily empty part of the castle, Harry sighed and started traipsing down the corridor, feeling very hard done by. Why did the stupid room choose today, of all days, to malfunction. Dumb thing.

*“Tonight, tonight! Quirrell! I will not ssssssstand further procrassssstination!”* someone spat in Parseltongue.

Harry gasped; that voice! Unknown yet horribly familiar! Harry’s instinct flared; he should not be here. With nowhere to run, the terrified boy quickly hid himself behind a tapestry.

*“Masssster, pleassse. We are not ssssssufficiently prepared.”* sssched a second voice.

*“The ancient one and the traitor are gone, the Ssssssstone issss within your grasssp. I refusssse to accept your inssssssssubordination.”

“Arrrrrrrrgh!”

*“The Sssssssssstone. Tonight. I refussssse to live thissssss half-life a day longer!”*

Wide eyed, Harry pressed himself against the cool stone wall, sweat dripping down his face in rivulets, too horrified to even breathe.

Someone, someone who every instinct told him to fear, was going to steal the Philosopher’s Stone.