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Chapter 1002: N.E.W.T.s Class

If it were another person, he would probably have collapsed by now!

“But in fact, I didn’t hand over my wand, and most of the knowledge can be found in books. Professor McGonagall also promised to help me contact other professors to persuade them to give me extra lessons. She also allowed me to attend fifth-year classes as an observer,” said Evan nonchalantly. “This is not a bad thing, Hermione. I’ve learned what I needed to, and I want to take the exam to prove myself. If everything goes well, I can join your classes next year.”

After the O.W.L. exams, Hogwarts students were no longer sorted by year but were placed into N.E.W.T. classes based on their exam results.

This was the last and most significant sorting before graduation, as professors had different requirements for N.E.W.T. classes, and students would study separately.

For example, Snape only accepted students with outstanding O.W.L. results and taught them to obtain N.E.W.T. certificates.

Students who did not meet his requirements could only give up the Potions class, or enter another professor’s Potions class to continue studying.

Although students usually interacted with the Heads of their respective Houses, Hogwarts had a large staff of over a hundred teachers.

So, if everything went well, Evan would be in the same class as Hermione next year.

“But what if something unexpected happens? I mean, what if you can’t get an Outstanding in every subject?”

For most people, passing and getting an O.W.L. certificate was already a relief, but Hermione was considering the possibility that Evan might not excel in all subjects. For him, it would undoubtedly be unfair and a significant loss…

“Well, with you here, can I not get an Outstanding?” Evan retorted.

He actually didn’t care about his grades anymore, but Hermione did take the matter very seriously.

Evan couldn’t tell her that getting Outstanding in O.W.Ls didn’t matter much to him.

“Okay, starting today, you’ll study with me. We have less than seven months,” said Hermione seriously, handing Evan a schedule and a bunch of parchment from her bag. “These are my class notes and the essays given by the professors. You have to complete them with me, and I’ll help you submit them.”

She seemed to have made up her mind to supervise Evan’s studies and help him achieve satisfactory results.

By that time, they could be in the same class.

Next to them, Harry had been staring blankly at the fire, as though the end of the world had arrived.

After a while, he asked softly, “Has anyone seen Ron?”

“No, Lavender was looking for him too, but no one saw him after the game,” said Hermione, temporarily putting aside her efforts to help Evan catch up on the fifth-year coursework. “I think he’s avoiding us, maybe he’ll be in…”

But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forward and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole.

He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair.

When he saw that Evan, Harry and Hermione were still there, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Where have you been?” said Hermione anxiously, springing up.

“Walking,” Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.

He walked to the fireside and sank into the chair farthest from Harry’s, not daring to look at them. The stolen Snitch zoomed over their heads.

“I’m sorry,” Ron mumbled, looking at his feet.

“What for?” said Harry.

“For thinking I can play Quidditch,” said Ron. “But I can’t. I’m terrible. I’d rather let Ginny or Coote play. I’m going to resign first thing tomorrow.”

“If you resign,” said Harry testily, “there’ll only be three players left on the team.” And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, “I’ve been given a lifetime ban. So have Fred and George. Angelina can’t find substitutes. And then, the Starcatchers and Evan’s wand have also been confiscated, and Evan has to take the O.W.Ls exam in advance and undergo what kind of evaluation…”

“What?” Ron yelped, and the others told him the full story.

Harry didn’t say a word; he couldn’t bear to tell it again.

When Evan and Hermione had finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever.

“This is all my fault…”

“It’s not your fault!”

“If I wasn’t so lousy at Quidditch…”

“It’s got nothing to do with that!”

“It was that song that wound me up…”

“It would’ve wound anyone up. The lyrics they came up with were terrible!”

Harry and Ron argued back and forth like this, and Evan and Hermione exchanged glances, not getting involved.

“Look, drop it, will you?” Harry finally burst out. “It’s bad enough without you blaming yourself for everything.”

Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while he said in a dull voice, “This is the worst I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“Join the club,” Harry sighed. “You have to perform well; the Gryffindor team can only rely on you. We…”

At that moment, he suddenly stopped and stared wide-eyed as Sirius’s untidy dark head appeared in the fire.

“Hi,” he said, grinning, seeming to have sensed something. “Did I come at a bad time? The atmosphere seems a bit off?”

“Hello, Sirius,” they chorused, all four kneeling down upon the hearthrug in front of the fireplace.

Crookshanks came running from the side, purring loudly, and approached the fire, trying to nuzzle Sirius’s face despite the heat.

Hermione hurriedly pulled Crookshanks back to stop him singeing his whiskers.

“How are things going recently? What happened?” he asked softly.

“Not great!” said Harry, recounting the events of the day and arguing again with Ron about whose fault it was.

“Oh, that’s really bad!” said Sirius. “That woman is really annoying, isn’t she? How is your Defense Against the Dark Arts group going?”

“It’s okay. We gave it a name: D.A., which stands for Dumbledore’s Army!”

“Good name. Things are getting more and more complicated, so you must seize the time to learn more magic.”

“What do you mean by that?” Evan asked. “Has something happened in Norway?”

He still remembered that not long ago, on the day of the first D.A. meeting, Harry’s scar hurt. Harry even felt Voldemort’s anger at the moment.

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