Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 378 I even tested you a hundred years ago.
“I think she’s talking about Fred and George,” Ron whispered, nudging Harry with his leg.

"Most likely," Harry nodded in reply.

Aside from these two, Professor McGonagall probably won't call on anyone else.

"Pay attention." Hermione turned around and glared at them both.

Professor McGonagall sighed softly, and the nostrils of her pointed nose flared.

"—No matter what, you should all do your best. You should think about your future."

“Professor,” Hermione said, her hand raised in the air, “when will we be able to find out our grades?”

“An owl will deliver it to you in July,” Professor McGonagall said.

“That’s great,” Dean Thomas whispered. “We don’t have to worry about it before the holidays.”

"And then your parents receive your report card and give you a good beating?" Simo asked from the side.

Dean immediately fell silent.

When get out of class ended, the whole class was listless because of what Simo had said.

Think about it: the holiday is supposed to be fun, but then you suddenly receive a report card saying you failed your exam. Then the rest of the holiday... won't be so happy.

Perhaps parents are wondering what kind of curse they can use to torment their children? Something that won't leave any lasting health problems or obvious scars, right?
Their first exam was on the theory of spells, scheduled for Monday morning.

Harry lay in his dorm room, not reading a single book, and when he had nothing to do, he would call each of his girlfriends.

Cassandra had calmed down. When she learned that Lupin had beaten her to it, she tormented Harry severely and remained angry with him for over a month before she recovered.

“I think,” Ron said to Harry when he got back to the dormitory, “you need to straighten up, Harry. You need to study hard; you have an exam tomorrow.”

“Yeah, there are exams, but what does that have to do with me?” Harry shrugged. “I got twelve Os in the OWLs, Ron, I don’t need to take this exam—”

Ron then realized that his good friend in front of him had already finished the exam.

“I shouldn’t have talked to you,” Ron said, turning his head away. “I’m not talking to you anymore, I need to study—God, I’m so frustrated I want to punch myself. Why do people have to take OWL exams?”

“Because you want a job,” Harry said with a shrug.

Ron walked out of the dormitory, carrying the notebook he had kept over the years.

At dinner time, Harry finally came out of his dormitory. The common room was quiet, and the students from other grades gave up their seats to the fifth-year students who were studying for their OWL exams.

At this moment, Ron was reading his spellbook from the past two years, plugging his ears with his fingers and moving his lips silently; Simofignan lay flat on the floor reciting the definitions of basic spells, while Dean checked them against the "Standard Spells, Level 5" for him; Parvati and Lavender were practicing basic movement spells, making their pencil cases race around the edge of the table.

“I think you guys can definitely do it,” Harry whispered encouragingly to Ron. “Don’t worry about the exam, Ron. I believe you can get at least 10 ‘O’s in the OWLs.”

Ron looked up, rolled his eyes, pointed to the door, and said, "If you don't mind?"

Harry left the common room anyway, intending to chat with students from other years.

Anne isn't in the Great Hall now; she's studying in the common room—Anne was cursed in fourth grade, so she didn't take the OWLs exam, meaning she still needs to take this course.

Dinner that day was quiet.

No one said much; they had been studying hard all day, so they ate with great gusto.

Hermione, however, would often put down her knife and fork, bury her head under the table, and pull a book out of her bag to check some facts or figures.

“You should eat properly, Hermione,” Ron said worriedly. “Listen to me, Hermione, finish your meal properly, or you might not be able to sleep tonight.”

“I’m fine, Ron,” Hermione said listlessly. “I’m just a little anxious… pre-exam anxiety, I don’t know what to do right now—”

“Eat something,” Ron said firmly, grabbing the food and placing it in front of Hermione without further ado. “Now, eat all of this, and listen to me, okay?”

Hermione had no choice but to accept Ron's arrangement.

At that moment, her hand went limp, and the fork clattered onto the plate.

“Oh my God,” she said timidly in a low voice, staring at the entrance hall, “is it them? The examiners?”

They looked toward the entrance to the Great Hall and saw Dumbledore standing with a small group of wizards who looked very old.

Harry recognized all these people, only they weren't this old back then—the one in the lead was Professor Marchban, whose face was covered in wrinkles that Harry had no doubt could crush a Bowtruckle... no, a Flobber Caterpillar.

They chatted as they walked inside.

"The journey went very smoothly, very smoothly, and we arrived well ahead of schedule!" Professor Marchban exclaimed. "It's been a long time since we last met, Dumbledore—I remember when you took the NEWTs exam, I was the one who tested you on Transfiguration and Charms. You are truly a gifted wizard—oh, and I haven't yet congratulated you on finally getting rid of that senior investigator."

Before Professor Dumbledore could answer, Professor Marchban replied again: “Speaking of which, do I know someone here? Harry Potter—right? I remember very well that in June of 1892, I personally examined his Transfiguration and Charms exams—OWLs, of course. He was a truly outstanding wizard, even more so than you were back then.”

"He shouldn't need to take the OWLs exam, right?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

“Of course not,” Professor Marchban waved his hand and said. “He has already achieved twelve ‘O’ grades in the OWLs, and even the old Mr. Malfoy praised him highly—you know who I’m talking about, not Lucius Malfoy, nor his father Abraxas Malfoy, but Abraxas’s grandfather, Mr. Septimus Malfoy.”

“By the way,” Professor Marchban asked again, “I heard that Mr. Malfoy’s daughter has also appeared? Is she at the school? She made a deep impression on me; she’s a very temperamental girl, but her temper matches her abilities, as does her family background.”

It's clear that Professor Machiban talks a lot, and very frequently.

However, none of the students heard it, except for Harry—whose hearing was perfectly fine.

However, Harry didn't see Professor Marchban; it seemed Professor Dumbledore didn't want him to. That night, as Harry slept, he heard Seamus's sleep-talking changed.

The content includes, but is not limited to, the advanced use of various spells; it all sounds quite sophisticated.

The next day at breakfast, the fifth-graders didn't say much. Parvati was practicing her spells in a low voice, the salt shaker on the table twitching in front of her; Hermione was reviewing "The Spellbook" quickly, her eyes looking a little dazed; Neville kept dropping his knife and fork and spilling jam.

“You guys really shouldn’t be so nervous,” Harry reassured Ron. “I mean, there’s no point in being so nervous. We’re going to go up there eventually, don’t you think?”

"You're not nervous because you don't take the OWLs test," Ron said irritably.

Harry scratched his head. "When I took this kind of test before, I wasn't nervous at all."

Once breakfast was over, the students from other grades went to class, leaving only Harry and his classmates from the fifth grade, as well as the seventh graders who were going to participate in NEWTs.

Some of them leaned against the wall, looking extremely agitated, while others paced back and forth in the hallway.

“Harry,” Anne said anxiously as she walked to Harry’s side, “I have exams coming up—what should I do? What if I don’t do well?”

“I believe in you, Anne.” Harry reached out and ruffled Anne’s soft hair. “Don’t worry, you have to believe in yourself. After all, you did two assignments by yourself, so the basic theory shouldn’t be a problem—”

Anne bit her lip, looked up and glared at Harry.

"I was just trying to comfort you, why are you glaring at me?" Harry asked helplessly, spreading his hands.

Anne didn't say anything. After a while, they were called into the auditorium in groups, divided by college and year.

The auditorium had clearly been rearranged, with many small single tables installed, and a giant hourglass placed at the front of the faculty and staff seats.

Harry didn't go inside; instead, he went outside the castle to get some fresh air.

"It feels really good not to have to take an exam, doesn't it?" Professor Dumbledore's voice suddenly appeared.

Harry turned his head and saw Dumbledore, with Professor Marchban standing next to him.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Marchban," Harry greeted them with a nod.

“Hello, Potter.” Professor Marchban stepped forward and said with some delight, “It seems that besides Dumbledore, I will also meet another old friend here? I must say, Potter, you left a very deep impression on me during the exam.”

"Looks like I did alright back then?" Harry asked, scratching his head.

“It’s not just okay, Mr. Potter,” Professor Marchban said with a smile. “You, Miss Malfoy, and Miss Grindelwald all made a deep impression on me… Of course, when Miss Grindelwald was taking her NEWTs exam, I was the one who took her Charms and Transfiguration exams, but unfortunately, I was delayed by something the following year and missed Miss Malfoy’s assessment.”

“I’m so happy to see you so healthy,” Harry said sincerely.

Professor Machiban said a few more words and then walked into the auditorium.

“I never thought she was still here,” Harry said to Dumbledore.

He didn't say the next sentence, but Dumbledore guessed what Harry wanted to say.

"What do you think their grades will be like?" Dumbledore asked Harry casually, looking into the Great Hall.

“Hermione should get twelve ‘O’s, I have faith in her.” Harry thought for a moment, then said again, “As for Ron, he’ll probably get around eight, but I’m not entirely sure. What if he really put in the effort during Professor Snape’s Potions class?”

“Yes, I heard you asked Severus to tutor Ron,” Dumbledore said with a hearty laugh. “I know how much Severus and Ron don’t get along. Perhaps we could go and see how Severus tutors Ron sometime, what do you say?”

After saying that, Dumbledore winked at Harry.

You know what, Harry is actually quite interested.

Go see how Ron gets tutoring? It'll be hilarious!

“This is the ordeal one must endure to become an Auror,” Harry said with a determined look in his eyes. “I believe Ron can definitely overcome this difficulty.”

Time flies, and before long, it was time for the exam to end.

"Hmm, not too bad, right?" Hermione asked anxiously in the hallway two hours later, still clutching the test paper tightly. "I'm not sure if I answered all the Happiness Charms correctly; time just ran out. Did you write down the antidote for hiccups? I don't know if I should write it down; I think I wrote too much—and there's still the twenty-third question—"

“Hermione,” Ron said firmly, “the exam is over…we don’t want to have to do it all over again. One exam is enough.”

Hermione had no choice but to shut her mouth, but she was still wondering whether she should ask someone for the answer.
But after thinking for a long time, she sadly realized that throughout the entire fifth grade, it seemed that no one could go over the answers with her.

"Hey, did well on the test?" Harry asked them as he walked over.

“There’s a practical exam this afternoon,” Ron said, scratching his fiery red hair. “Professor Machiban—is that her name? I’ve almost forgotten—said she’d be testing our Charms this afternoon. I wonder if I’ll perform well, or if I’ll just be unlucky…”

"You've exceeded expectations." Hagrid appeared out of nowhere and handed each of them a rabbit's foot: "Here, these are lucky rabbit feet. Wearing them will enhance your luck—at least that's what everyone thinks, so I got some for you."

This belief is held in many parts of Europe, Africa, and the Americas.

This belief is said to have existed among the Celts of Britain as early as 600 BC in Europe. In different versions, the rabbit that provides the lucky rabbit's foot must possess certain qualities, either in a specific place or in a specific way, or be killed by a person with those qualities—such as a cross-eyed person.

Of course, Hagrid is also a special person, after all, he is much taller and stronger than the average person.

“Thank you, Hagrid.” Hermione immediately put on the rabbit's foot; she desperately needed it. “Hopefully, it will help me do well on my exams, what do you think?”

“No problem at all.” Ron also put on the rabbit feet. “Thank you, Hagrid!”

(End of this chapter)