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N.E.W.T.s, Interrupted


Morning of the N.E.W.T. exams came faster than any of the seventh years in the entire school could ever have dreamed. They’d revised and revised and still there were nearly none that felt completely ready for the test. Bilius Weasley was an emotional wreck, pacing about the Gryffindor common room, his robes all tangled about him as he quite literally pulled his hair out of his scalp as he talked nervously, muttering everything he needed to remember over and over to himself.

Everyone in Gryffindor was rather relieved when Derek finally caught Bilius by the shoulders and insisted they had down to the Great Hall, where the examination was being held, to get a good seat close to the front.

Sirius looked to James, “If I’m that nervous come out N.E.W.T., please hit me with a stunner and just prop me up in the corner.”

James nodded, “I absolutely will, I swear.”

The younger students would their exams in the morning, after breakfast, followed by the fifth year O.W.L. exams in the afternoon. James was thankful for the extra night of studying (especially as they’d all been too distracted by Bilius Weasley’s anxiety to actually get much of their own studying done before).




“Relax, will you?” Derek pleaded. He pushed Bilius into a seat in one of the desks. “You’re going to give yourself a fit.”

Bilius was running his quill through his fingers, unable to sit completely still, one foot thumping the floor nervously. “I can’t help it, mate, this is our future, you know? This determines what we can and can’t do for the rest of our lives.”

“The Resistance doesn’t care about your N.E.W.T. grades, Bil,” said Derek with a shrug. This was the reason that he, at least, wasn’t nearly as worked up as Bilius and some of the other seventh years. Several of the Ravenclaws were already in the testing hall when they’d gotten down there, sitting in a cluster in the front, pouring over their books for last minute revisions. Derek half-sat-half-leaned against his desk, looking down at Bilius. “We’re already in the Resistance.”

“Yeah, that’s all good and well, but what about after Voldemort’s defeated, ey? What do you want to do after that?” Bilius asked.

Derek shrugged. Honestly, he hadn’t thought of it in such a time that he wasn’t really sure any longer. “Dunno, Bil, I’ll figure it out.”

“What happened to your dragons? Ey?” Bilius asked gently.

There was a time that he’d been interested in Magizoology, especially in dragon capture and training, but he’d forgotten that the moment he’d heard his parents were gone. It had seemed a childhood fantasy in some ways and he’d grown up very instantly that night, and left behind a lot of the ambitions and imaginations that he’d once had in favor of the sole desire to seek and destroy Lord Voldemort in vengance. He’d been so fixated on the idea of the Resistance for the past year, that he had afforded little time for any other passions to sort through.

Derek shrugged.

“Mate, there’s a life for us after Voldey’s dead,” Bilius said.

“Yeah, I know,” Derek said, “But first thing’s first.”

Bilius sighed, “I think you’ll make a brilliant Magizoologist, for the record, Derek. You oughtn’t give it up.”

Bilius wasn’t the first to have told him that and Derek sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I haven’t really given it up, I just - I have to avenge my sister and my parents, you know? I have to do this Resistance stuff first, then I can worry about the rest of it. And if it means giving up some stuff - like the dragons - then it does, that’s all there is to it. This is more important.”

Bilius’s foot was still thumping nervously. “I s’pose.”

Over the next hour, several more seventh years trickled into the Great Hall, filling the seats around them. Derek sat down and listened to the beating of Bilius’s foot and the swishing of his quill as he tapped it rhythmically against the desktop. Finally, it was time for the exams to begin and Professors McGonagall, Slughorn, Flitwick, Viridi and Blythe were all there to oversee them. Flitwick teetered on the podium at the front of the Hall and stared at his watch as the seconds ticked by for the start of the term and finally he announced, “You may begin,” and with a flick of his wand, parchment and exam books appeared on each desk.

The students sat forward and there was a general shuffling of parchments and scratching of quills as they all set to work throughout the Great Hall, and then silence, punctuated only by the soft clinking of quills being dipped for fresh ink.

As the clock ticked by, the professors walked among the desks - except Slughorn, who had appointed himself as a general surveyor and sat in a great guilt chair at the head, checking his pocket watch and craning his neck to look about at the sea of students.

Derek found it very hard to concentrate on the exam. There were shafts of sunlight streaking down from the high windows that the owls usually came in for the morning post delivery and he was distracted now and then as the sun caught the buckles of a bookbag or the nubs of a moving quill ahead of him. His mind was playing over the conversation he and Bilius had engaged in prior to the start of the exam, and it made his mind pool the letters and words together on the page so that it seemed he was wading through a swamp of intellect as he tried to read what it said. He drew a deep breath and tried to focus.

It was about halfway through the exams that a shadow broke the shafts of light and Derek was not the only one to pause in their exams to look up. A single owl had come soaring through the windows, his wings spread wide, clutching a note in his beak. He swooped low over the students, coming to rest on the podium in the front where Flitwick had stood. McGonagall was closest to him and she walked, almost mechanically, toward the owl, a concerned expression on her face that sent a wave of unease through the students sitting in the Hall. Even Slughorn, who’d been nearly on the verge of snoozing in his chair sat up to better see what the owl had borne into the castle. Chriselda Blythe stood just feet from Bilius and Derek. Derek looked over at her, but she was staring at McGonagall, too, and didn’t notice Derek’s eyes upon her.

McGonagall took the letter from the owl’s beak. “It’s from Dumbledore,” she murmured.

“Dumbledore,” several voices echoed the word and it seemed to move from the front to the back of the room in muttered tones.

McGonagall ripped open the envelope and looked down at the note, her face stony and unreadable. Derek sat forward, clutching the desk. If Dumbledore had sent a message to the faculty - allowing the owl to even interrupt the N.E.W.T.s - it could be nothing but terrible news. His heart rate had nearly doubled. He looked to Bilius, who had half stood up and drawn his wand from his cloak pocket. Derek did the same.

“What is it, Minerva?” asked Viridi, her voice ringing from the back of the room, where she’d been watching over a crowd of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins.

McGonagall’s eyes moved through the room to each of the Resistance members. “Dumbledore has requested that we - we postpone the exams,” she announced. She clapped her hands, “Students, your Heads of House will escort you to your common rooms. You are to stay in your houses until further notice. There will be no wandering the halls --”

Bilius and Derek shared a look of concern.

There was a loud commotion as the students all got up and began filing in their various directions to exit the Great Hall. Derek fought through the crowd of Ravenclaws getting up to follow Flitwick away until he got to where Professor Blythe was standing. “Chriselda,” he said, voice lowered, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, her eyes wild. “McGonagall said to wait here while she and Flitwick see the Gryffindors upstairs.”

Bilius came up behind them, having just got through the Ravenclaws, too, looking quite concerned as the Great Hall drained of students. Slughorn waddled across the room, following behind the Slytherin lot that had already gone out into the entrance hall. The three of them were soon the only ones left in the room until Hagrid came bumbling through the door at top speed.

“Professor McGonagall’s sent a message ter me, tellin’ me to come up to the Hall, she had summat to tell us,” he said, breathlessly, “Just was waterin’ the gardens when I got her message. What’s going on?” he asked.

Chriselda shook her head, “We don’t know yet. Dumbledore sent a letter and interrupted the N.E.W.T.s.”

Hagrid looked devastated. “Interrupted the exams, did he?” he flapped his arms in a nervous little movement.

When McGonagall returned, Flitwick at her heels, she waved her wand and the doors snapped shut behind them, sealing in only the Resistance members who were at the school into the room. She strode across the Great Hall, among the desks dotting the room, her mouth tight and eyes serious. “Dumbledore was receiving the President in the office of the Minister for Magic when they were informed that there has been an Inferius sighting north of London. At least twenty inferius.”

Flitwick squeaked in shock and Hagrid murmured, “Blimey.”

“He’s asked us the Resistance to go and help to protect the muggles and stop the inferi.”

Chriselda had her wand drawn before McGonagall had even finished the sentence, a blazing look upon her face. “Let’s do it,” said Derek boldly, though he’d never seen an inferius in life, he’d heard loads of stories about them as a child. The inferi were what kept young wizards up late at night after rounds of stories about a campfire. The colour had drained from Bilius’s face and he looked pallid and wide-eyed.

McGonagall shook her head, “No,” she replied, “You and Bilius will remain here at the castle. The inferi are extremely dangerous and --”

“We’re part of the Resistance!” Bilius argued, “If Dumbledore wants the Resistance there, then that means us, too.”

“I’m not staying behind,” Derek agreed.

McGonagall scowled, “Neither of you is old enough to --”

“We’re both of age!” Bilius argued.

Derek nodded, “We’re adults, professor.”

McGonagall stared at them, pleading with her eyes for them to back down, they could see a maternal fear in her eyes. After a long moment, when it became clear that none of them were backing down, she sighed heavily.

“No!” Chriselda snapped, “No. You aren’t coming. Don’t give in to them Minerva!”

“I am coming and you can’t stop me,” Derek snapped.

“No! You are not!” Chriselda yelled, turning to him. “You’re staying here where you’re safe and --”

“Then you’re staying with me!” Derek bellowed, “I won’t be having you go off and facing danger without me. I refuse to have anyone else that I love be taken away! I’m want to protect you, damn it!”

His voice rang through the Hall.

Bilius blinked in surprise. “Hold on a second --” he said, his eyes traveling to the ring on Chriselda’s hand. “WHOA!” he shouted, “WAIT A MINUTE. Bell! -- Are you --”

Derek turned to McGonagall with an apologetic look, then to Bilius, “I’m sorry, mate, I couldn’t tell you - it was against the school rules and - we’ve had to be very quiet about it --”

Bilius clutched his head, as though holding the shock from exploding his brains. “Bloody hell! For how long?”

“A bit after Halloween… I couldn’t ask until after my birthday in December… It’s my mother’s ring…”

“BLOODY HELL!” Bilius cried out. He looked at Chriselda, “So it’s not Kettleburn you’re engaged to it’s … it’s bloody Derek?!”

Chriselda’s nose wrinkled, “Kettleburn? Seriously? That’s who every one’s thought I’m engaged to?”

“It was either him or Hagrid!” said Bilius.

Hagrid’s face turned red. “T’weren’t me,” he murmured.

Derek took a deep breath, grabbing Chriselda’s hand for the first time publicly, and squeezed it in his own. “Bottom line is that I refuse to let you go off and fight the inferi without me. Like it or not, I’m coming with you.”

“And he’s not fighting off inferius without me,” Bilius agreed.

McGonagall sighed, “Fine. But you will follow orders - even if those orders are to run, do you understand me?”

“Yes professor,” they chorused, though Derek did not release Chriselda’s hand from his own.

McGonagall said, “Very well. I’ve told Slughorn that he is in charge until we return, so let us go now. We’ll disapparate from outside the gates. Quickly, we’ve dithered long enough.”




When the seventh year girls returned to Gryffindor tower, there was a great commotion in the common room. “What’re you lot doing back so soon?” demanded a sixth year girl, who was studying at one of the long tables.

“There’s been some sort of emergency or something,” one of them answered, “Dumbledore’s postponed the exams.”

“Postponed the exams?” A murmuring went through the room, the fifth years looking up from their revisions hopefully. “But what’s happening?”

“We don’t know,” another of the seventh years replied, “McGonagall wouldn’t tell us.”

“Where’s Derek and Bilius?” James asked.

The girls looked about, confused.

“It must be something to do with the Resistance,” murmured Sirius darkly to James.

James’s heart rate increased. That meant whatever it was, his dad would be involved, too, and all the other members of the Resistance against the Dark Lord. He clutched the arm of the chair he and Sirius were squashed into. The potion Madam Pomfrey had given him couldn’t possibly be strong enough to calm the nerves that were running through him now, he thought hopelessly.