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A couple of days before exams, the library became crowded. For the first half of the year, the Dementors did not allow them to study, and in the second - the joy of their absence. So the abode of knowledge became crowded as if galleons are being handed out here. However, neither Hermione nor I had any trouble passing everything, and it felt like an "O." Even Potions. In general, passing Potions with "Outstanding" is not so difficult - all you need is to know the theory and brew a potion according to the instructions, slightly adjusting the process based on experience. But if you make potions on the principle of "just to make them," then Snape won't give you an "Outstanding" simply because your result will not be like that. I bet even Potter can get that grade if he gets his mind right and doesn't get himself worked up by the unfriendly attitude of his teacher. Yes, Snape is a piece of shit, but even though he sets the bar high in his subject, he's never undermarked a grade for potions. Not once. Not at all.
There were still some days of idleness before the departure after all examinations, and there were no classes. Someone was flying around the field with the Quidditch teams, having fun, someone was walking and having picnics, and I was stupidly sitting in the common room and thinking about the upcoming summer. It didn't really work out any particular plan. The only thing that would definitely have to be done was to start a soul-growing project for Rowena so that this lodger would have already moved on. She doesn't bother me, no, and keeps quiet most of the time, only occasionally inserting her opinion on this or that situation. However, she is there, and something has to be done about it.
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione plopped down on the couch next to me. The school uniform has already been replaced with different everyday ones, and now she was wearing a long black skirt with no less black tights and a thin white turtleneck. It's simple and always appropriate. All sorts of pants and windbreakers, among which there is one toxic pink, the girl uses only for training.
"Just thinking about what I'm going to do this summer."
"Yeah? Well, my parents texted me that we're going to France again. They haven't told me exactly where, but I have no doubt it will be an interesting place. Well, or a resort. It has long been necessary to go to such a place. The Mediterranean Sea, Nice, the beaches..."
Loud laughter distracted us from the conversation, and the reason was simple - somebody was caught by another sweet from the twins, and now the kid from the second year is growing a powerful second chin. From the look on the victim's face, he seemed to like everything, and he was delighted. Hmm, why are there so many people? I was surprised when I cast Tempus because it was already late afternoon.
"Max," Hermione returned to the conversation. "Are you going to the Quidditch World Cup finals?"
"Excuse me?" I arched a Snape-like eyebrow. "Who are you, and where is Hermione? You weren't interested in Quidditch at all."
"It's not about Quidditch," the girl smiled, shaking head of hair that was gathered at the back. "There are some who occupy the site several weeks in advance. There will be a huge tent camp, a fair and more. It's a great opportunity to observe the wizards and see their life and stuff. There's a school here, and other than that there are only the shopping streets. It's not revealing."
"The idea itself is an entertaining one, but Quidditch? Hmm. I could, in principle," I really thought about that option. Maybe I should find someone to train me through a month of combat in brutal "survive or die" mode, and then I will test my skills on bullies in devouring masks? If they show up, of course.
"Then we'll have to book tickets and rent a seat. They say there's only a third of those very seats left. And there's another problem."
"What's that?"
"Minors can only attend this event if accompanied by an adult."
"Ooh. That could be a problem."
"Yeah..."
"I'll think of something. But even if I don't, there's always a way to cheat the system."
"Are you sure you're a Gryffindor?" Hermione smirked but apparently took the option under consideration. "By the way, I approached Professor Flitwick about the project."
"Yeah? So?"
"The professor described its meaning with theses rather chaotically. I already have some ideas, but I don't think I can test them until next year. After all, we can't do magic during the holidays."
"You can use it in Egypt."
"Yes?" wondered Hermione and perked up.
"You're not going to go to Egypt just to be able to use magic, are you?"
"No, of course not! It's just rather interesting. Why is that?"
"They believe that once a wizard has earned the right to carry a concentrator, he is quite capable, or rather obligated, to be responsible for his own actions. That's the way it is."
"On the one hand, this is very literate and should instill responsibility, it seems to me. But on the other hand... I bet there's a lot of work for the Obliviators."
A flock of happy first-years passed by, talking about their achievements.
"Who knows? But their Aurors inspire respect. They look very combative, so to speak. By the way, let's exchange phone numbers. Why we use only owls? I'll get my bag."
Hermione froze for a moment with a shocked expression on her face and leaned back on the couch with a kind of wistful smile.
"How stupid ... We figured it out after so long."
Rising from the couch, I smiled at my friend.
"Yeah, and I'm no better."