Our victory over Ravenclaw surprised me, honestly. Cedric flirted too much with Ravenclaw's Seeker, and overall the teams were evenly matched, but we were just a bit more even. Cho Chang handled ignoring Cedric perfectly, which was what worried me most when it came to winning. Without pushing ourselves to the limit, we gradually increased the lead and genuinely enjoyed the fairly polite game. But the crafty Chinese girl could have outpaced Cedric at any moment and caught the Snitch. It did not happen, to our relief.
Overall, the second half of November turned out to be extremely quiet and calm. During one of our magical practice sessions with classmates, Justin managed to produce a corporeal Patronus, delighting everyone, quite literally. His translucent, pale-blue groundhog, darting around like a mad thing, filled the soul with joy, kindness, and trust. Zacharias, however, grew even gloomier. Of the pure-blood half of Hufflepuff's third year, he turned out to be the most sensitive. It does not sound great, but it all depends on perspective. Hannah and Susan did not care at all about such superiority, but it stung him a little.
My bow in the pot kept slowly growing, and no one could possibly suspect the small, single-trunk deciduous sapling. Only at the very final stage would all the branches and leaves twist together around the trunk, forming the bow itself, shaping the grip and limbs.
After the Ravenclaw match, people smiled and nodded at me even more often, especially, oddly enough, Ravenclaw students. Smiling and nodding as much as their rather reserved nature allowed. Cedric ordered us to slack off, with training resuming in January after the Christmas holidays. The reason was simple. December arrived with cold rains, soaking us day after day. Of course, we could have trained. A few spells, my pendants, which nearly everyone in school had bought, and it would not even be cold or particularly wet. But that weather caused a kind of moral discomfort, and the Dementors in the Forbidden Forest made flying and training far less enjoyable.
Lessons with Daphne under Professor Snape were picking up pace. If my memory served me right, we were about to run out of ingredients for first and second year, and even early third-year lessons. What could you do? The nasty black-haired fiend gave no quarter, forcing us to brew potions under time limits and conditions that were hard to describe.
The only thing still left untouched was testing how different types of energy affected local spellcasting. As I had thought, fire energy was the easiest to access, even from a common fireplace. However, I would not predict the effect of that energy on something like Incendio, which conjures a jet of flame, meaning no experimenting in the common room. Another downside, or rather a drawback, was the weak ability of local wizards' bodies to store energy. That was understandable. Nature follows the path of least resistance, so humans, magical or not, have no predisposition toward abilities that are useless from nature's point of view.
In short, until mid-December, school life was just studying, while the weather only deepened the gloom. From morning till evening, students walked around looking sullen, thawing only in the evenings in the common rooms, warmed by fireplaces, cushioned by sofas and armchairs, engaged in favorite games, books, magazines, or caring for the many potted plants scattered around. Laughter rang out, conversations flowed, smiles and calm comfort filled the air. It pleased me, sitting in my usual chair among classmates, doing homework or chatting about nothing in particular.
When December passed its midpoint, the sky cleared, the frost became truly wintry, and one morning the first hoarfrost appeared outside the window, not melting until dawn. That triggered several things at once. Students started talking about midyear exams and about Christmas, specifically the Christmas holidays.
"What are you planning to do over the break?" Justin asked me at breakfast on that wonderful first-snow day, December sixteenth.
"Go home to my parents, obviously."
"Hm. Yeah, that makes sense. I did not think of that…" Justin went back to devouring fried sausages.
"Guys," I looked toward the others across the table. "How do exams work?"
"Huh? Midyear?" Hannah answered. "Nothing major. Just small tests. Only Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms have practical parts. By the way…"
She smiled slyly.
"The Charms exam is today."
"Oh…" I put on a shocked face, then smiled. "I think I'm pretty well prepared."
"You have to take all the core subjects for the previous two years, right?" Ernie reminded me.
"Yes," I nodded. "I think I'll ask Professor Flitwick to examine me today if possible. I have a free slot after lunch."
"Logical. Give it a try."
Naturally, that was exactly what I did as soon as double Charms ended.
"Professor," I approached Flitwick right after class. "Could I take the theory and practical exams for the first two years after lunch?"
"Hm. Why not, Mr. Granger. I have detentions scheduled anyway."
I looked surprised, but apparently he misunderstood.
"Do not worry," the tiny professor smiled reassuringly. "There will only be a few students, nothing to be embarrassed about. And given your progress, I doubt you have anything to be embarrassed about at all."
"I understand, Professor," I nodded and went to lunch.
After eating well, I returned to the Ravenclaw tower, to the Charms classroom. For now, only the professor was there. He sat like a student in the front row of the amphitheater-style room, enthusiastically writing something. Beside him lay various objects with no apparent connection to one another. But what caught my attention most was a pineapple.
"Professor."
"Oh, come in, come in," he smiled, setting his notes aside. "Do not be surprised, Mr. Granger. There is simply nowhere else to sit."
"Indeed," I smiled, standing before him. "An oral exam? Theory? Straight to practice?"
"They say you have as good a memory as your sister?"
"I do not know about hers, but mine is quite good."
"Then let me ask you questions at random from the textbooks…"
Three questions followed, and three answers, quoted word for word, convinced the professor that further theory examination was pointless. At that moment, the classroom door opened, and three of my classmates entered. Greengrass, Goldstein, and Boot.
"Come in, have a seat," Flitwick smiled, gesturing to places beside him. "Prepare your assignments."
They quickly sat down and produced a large stack of written parchment and notebook pages.
"Now then, Mr. Granger. Here is a pineapple," the professor slid the prickly wonder toward me. "Ouch, sharp little rascal. Make this pineapple dance a jig."
I drew my wand, made a perfect flick, spoke the incantation, and the pineapple immediately began dancing. The professor clapped happily.
"And now," he placed a piece of fabric before me, marked with the outline of an abstract little man. "Demonstrate the cutting charm by cutting out this amusing fellow."
Once again, I performed a precise wand motion, visualizing the desired result.
"Diffindo."
An almost invisible burst shot from the wand tip, struck the fabric, and instantly everyone heard the characteristic sound of cloth being cut.
"Excellent. Excellent, Mr. Granger," the delighted professor clapped again. "Beautiful movements, pronunciation, and coordination. And the result speaks for itself."