 -


Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom. He knocked 
Malfoy's arm out of the way and -


"YES!" 

He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium 
exploded. Harry soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in his ears. The 
tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings 
hopelessly against his fingers. 

Then Wood was speeding toward him, half-blinded by tears; he seized 
Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Harry 
felt two large thumps as Fred and George hit them; then Angelina's, 
Alicia's, and Katie's voices, "We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!" 
Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling 
hoarsely, back to earth. 

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers onto 
the field. Hands were raining down on their backs. Harry had a confused 
impression of noise and bodies pressing in on him. Then he, and the rest 
of the team, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. Thrust into 
the light, he saw Hagrid, Plastered with crimson rosettes -- "Yeh beat 
'em, Harry, yeh beat 'em! 

Wait till I tell Buckbeak!" There was Percy, jumping up and down like a 
maniac, all dignity forgotten. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder 
even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag; and 
there, fighting their way toward Harry, were Ron and Hermione. Words 
failed them. They simply beamed as Harry was borne toward the stands, 
where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup. 

If only there had been a dementor around.... As a sobbing Wood passed 
Harry the Cup, as he lifted it into the air, Harry felt he could have 

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produced the world's best Patronus. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

PROFESSOR TRELAWNEY'S PREDICTION 

Harry's euphoria at finally winning the Quidditch Cup lasted at least a 
week. Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the 
days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was 
strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several 
pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones 
or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of 
the lake. 

But they couldn't. Exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing 
around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, 
trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of 
summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Fred and George Weasley 
had been spotted working; they were about to take their O.W.L.s 
(Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Percy was getting ready to take his 

N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest 
qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of 
Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave 
very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common 
room in the evenings. In fact, the only person who seemed more anxious 
than Percy was Hermione. 
Harry and Ron had given up asking her how she was managing to attend 
several classes at once, but they couldn't restrain themselves when they 
saw the exam schedule she had drawn up for herself. The first column 
read: 

Monday 

9 o'clock, Arithmancy 

9 o'clock, Transfiguration 

Lunch 

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1 o'clock, Charms 

1 o'clock, Ancient Runes 

"Hermione?" Ron said cautiously, because she was liable to explode when 
interrupted these days. "Er -- are you sure you've copied down these 
times right?" 

"What?" snapped Hermione, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. 
"Yes, of course I have." 

"Is there any point asking how you're going to sit for two exams at 
once?" said Harry. 

"No," said Hermione shortly. "Have either of you seen my copy of 
Numerology and Gramatica?" 

"Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," said Ron, but 
very quietly. Hermione started shifting heaps of parchment Harry, Ron, 
and Hermione plenty of opportunity to speak to Hagrid. 

"Beaky's gettin' a bit depressed," Hagrid told them, bending low on the 
pretense of checking that Harry's flobberworm was still alive. "Bin 
cooped up too long. But still... we'll know day after tomorrow -- one 
way or the other --" 

They had Potions that afternoon, which was an unqualified disaster. Try 
as Harry might, he couldn't get his Confusing Concoction to thicken, and 
Snape, standing watch with an air of vindictive pleasure, scribbled 
something that looked suspiciously like a zero onto his notes before 
moving away. 

Then came Astronomy at midnight, up on the tallest tower; History of 
Magic on Wednesday morning, in which Harry scribbled everything Florean 
Fortescue had ever told him about medieval witch-hunts, while wishing he 
could have had one of Fortescue's choco-nut sundaes with him in the 
stifling classroom. Wednesday afternoon meant Herbology, in the 
greenhouses under a baking-hot sun; then back to the common room once 
more, with sunburnt necks, thinking longingly of this time next day, 
when it would all be over. 

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Their second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the 
Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of 
them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where 
they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a grindylow, 
cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a 
patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a hinkypunk, 
then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new boggart. 

"Excellent, Harry," Lupin muttered as Harry climbed out of the trunk, 
grinning. "Full marks." 

Flushed with his success, Harry hung around to watch Ron and Hermione. 
Ron did very well until he reached the hinkypunk, which successfully 
confused him into sinking waist-high into the quagmire. Hermione did 
everything perfectly until she reached the trunk with the boggart in it. 
After about a minute inside it, she burst out again, screaming. 

"Hermione!" said Lupin, startled. "What's the matter?" 

"P -- P -- Professor McGonagall!" Hermione gasped, pointing into the 
trunk. "Sh -- she said I'd failed everything!" 

It took a little while to calm Hermione down. When at last she had 
regained a grip on herself, she, Harry, and Ron went back to the castle. 
Ron was still slightly inclined to laugh at Hermione's boggart, but an 
argument was averted by the sight that met them on the top of the steps. 

Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak, was standing 
there staring out at the grounds. He started at the sight of Harry. 

"Hello there, Harry!" he said. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly 
finished?" 

"Yes," said Harry. Hermione and Ron, not being on speaking terms with 
the Minister of Magic, hovered awkwardly in the background. 

"Lovely day," said Fudge, casting an eye over the lake. 

"Pity... pity..." 

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He sighed deeply and looked down at Harry. 

"I'm here on an unpleasant mission, Harry. The Committee for the 
Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required a witness to the execution of a 
mad hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black 
situation, I was asked to step in." 

"Does that mean the appeal's already happened?" Ron interrupted, 
stepping forward. 

"No, no, it's scheduled for this afternoon," said Fudge, looking 
curiously at Ron. 

"Then you might not have to witness an execution at A!" said Eon 
stoutly. "The hippogriff might get off!" 

Before Fudge could answer, two wizards came through the castle doors 
behind him. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their 
very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin back mustache. 
Harry gathered that they were representatives of the Committee for the 
Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because tie very old wizard squinted 
toward Hagrid's cabin and said in a feeble voice, "Dear, dear, I'm 
getting too old for this.... Two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?" 

The black-mustached man was fingering something in his belt; Harry 
looked and saw that he was running one broad thumb along the blade of a 
shining axe. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione nudged 
him hard in the ribs and jerked her head toward the entrance hall. 

"Why'd you stop me?" said Ron angrily as they entered the Great Hall for 
lunch. "Did you see them? They've even got the axe ready! This isn't 
justice!" 

"Ron, your dad works for the Ministry, you can't go saying things like 
that to his boss!" said Hermione, but she too looked very upset. "As 
long as Hagrid keeps his head this time, and argue, hi case properly, 
they can't possibly execute Buckbeak...." 

But Harry could tell Hermione didn't really believe what she was saying. 

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All around them, people were talking excitedly as they ate their lunch, 
happily anticipating the end of the exams that afternoon, but Harry, 
Ron, and Hermione, lost in worry about Hagrid and Buckbeak, didn't join 
in. 


Harry's and Ron's last exam was Divination; Hermione's, Muggle Studies. 
They walked up the marble staircase together; Hermione left them on the 
first floor and Harry and Ron proceeded all the way up to the seventh, 
where many of their class were sitting on the spiral staircase to 
Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute 
studying. 


"She's seeing us all separately," Neville informed them as they went to 
sit down next to him. He had his copy of Unfogging the Future open on 
his lap at the pages devoted to crystal gazing. "Have either of you ever 
seen anything in a crystal ball?" he asked them unhappily. 


"Nope," said Ron in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch; Harry. 
knew that h