Hogwarts was calm again. Rhiannon's Tomar people brought Skyl a message, saying the stars had returned to their proper track, the coming crisis had been eliminated, and they even sent him a star-dial as a thank-you gift.
Days slipped by, and June arrived. Exam week—the thing that made fifth-years and seventh-years miserable—was suddenly right in front of them.
The night before the O.W.L.s, plenty of students couldn't sleep.
"Skyl, why haven't you been sneaking out at night lately?" Percy asked, tossing and turning.
"Studying for exams."
"You? With how good you are, you still worry about exams? Once you graduate and apply to stay on as staff, everything will be easy. Dumbledore is ridiculously pleased with your Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching."
"That's a long way off," Skyl said. "Thinking about where to go for the summer is more practical."
"I'm thinking of going to Diagon Alley to find a part-time job," another roommate cut in, drawn into the late-night talk.
"So none of you are sleeping," Percy shook his head. "Was I being too loud?"
"Can't sleep."
"I'm really panicking. I hate exams."
"Not just exams—I hate studying. Magic should be free and unrestrained, and yet we still have to cram all this theory."
"Memorising is fine. Practical is what's terrifying. The second I get nervous, I mess up."
"Yeah." Skyl sighed too. His Divination worked and didn't work at random, and he still hadn't figured out why. Who could guarantee it wouldn't fail him at the worst possible moment—in the middle of an exam?
Percy laughed. "Your Divination is probably beyond saving, but the other subjects should be no problem."
Skyl's face soured. He felt like he was plenty capable—hadn't he just used Divination to help the wizarding world avert a catastrophic future? Harry going from saviour to Dark Lord—what kind of bleak, brutal script was that? Better to stamp out the spark before it turned into a fire.
The other two roommates started drilling each other again on charms theory. The dormitory simply refused to settle. Everyone—except Skyl—slept badly. They'd lie down and close their eyes for a moment, then suddenly sit up, yank out the notes from under their pillows, and check a line or two. If what they read matched what they remembered, they breathed out in relief. If it didn't, they sucked in a thankful, horrified breath and kept revising.
"Get some rest," Skyl said. "If you don't sleep, tomorrow's exams will hit you even harder."
Someone sighed, suddenly wistful. "If only we could cheat."
That tempting little suggestion was like a warm gust of air, reigniting the room.
Percy immediately shot it down. "No chance. The Wizarding Examinations Authority checks everything. There are anti-cheating charms everywhere, and the examiner watches you closely. Don't even think about cheating—crib notes, Self-Answering Quills, a Rememberall, self-correcting ink… they'll search you and find all of it."
A roommate groaned, then looked to Skyl. "Skyl, we all know you're the one with ideas. Got anything?"
Back when Skyl was still a Muggle, he'd fantasised about cheating more than once. It was pure daydreaming back then—like the telepathy pill he'd imagined in primary school, something you could take so people could talk mind-to-mind and pass answers right in front of the teacher. Just thinking about it had felt insanely satisfying.
And when he was a kid, he'd even imagined a whole squad of telepathic children—secretly wielding a mysterious power, transforming into super-soldiers, protecting the world from the shadows.
So embarrassing.
He could actually do things like that now, but the childish passion was long gone. And besides—he'd once been an educator. How could he possibly help students bend the rules?
Skyl said, "Instead of daydreaming about cheating, think about what you're having for breakfast tomorrow."
And that was the end of it.
Breakfast the next morning was as lavish as ever. The school had even prepared little good-luck cards for the fifth- and seventh-year examinees—tips for the tests, plus various sayings. Skyl's card read:
A willful man must have his way.
Everyone compared cards; most of them were more or less the same.
After breakfast, the other students headed to class. All the examinees gathered in the entrance hall beside the Great Hall to wait to be let in.
The professors and examiners were setting the hall up. With the last scraps of time, students clustered together to quiz one another, recite definitions, and fire off last-minute questions—especially around Skyl, where the crowd was thickest. Others paced back and forth, or crouched by the wall and stared blankly into space.
Compared to the major, life-defining exams Skyl had faced in his previous life, wizarding exams weren't truly ruthless. This wasn't an elimination system—no "one more point means crushing a thousand people." As long as you passed, you earned your certificate. The only difference was how many certificates you had, and how valuable they were—things that shaped your future career options.
Not long ago, each Head of House had discussed employment with the candidates. Professor McGonagall very much wanted Skyl to remain at Hogwarts as a teacher. She also recommended he join the Ministry of Magic and become a proud Auror.
Skyl planned to keep travelling between worlds. There were more sights he wanted to see; he had no intention of settling down anywhere yet.
At exactly nine-thirty, the side doors to the Great Hall opened. The long tables had been replaced by individual desks, all facing the staff platform at the far end, where Professor McGonagall stood. Students filed in by batches, sat down, and whispered encouragement to each other. Percy's face was especially pale, while Skyl's other roommate clutched his stomach, looking distinctly unwell.
The first exam was Charms theory—two hours. Skyl finished smoothly. Aside from a few obscure charms that took him a moment to dredge up, nothing truly challenged him. The questions reminded him of the time he'd stayed at the Leaky Cauldron—back then, he'd studied like a man possessed, spending whole days buried in charms.
When the exam ended, the moment students stepped out of the hall, they began swapping answers. The top students argued over which charms belonged in a particular response. The weaker students listened nearby, turning faintly green—because their answers didn't match.
At noon, the hall was rearranged into a dining space and the whole school ate together. In the afternoon, it became an exam hall again for the Charms practical.
When Skyl stepped up to the chief examiner, the old man heard his name and immediately grabbed his hand with excitement. "So you're the famous Skyl! A genius Transfigurer—your achievements will bring the wizarding world a completely new look. You'll influence the future of wizardkind!" Then his expression flipped. "A shame. If I had the authority to award you full marks on the spot, I'd do it without hesitation—but you still have to pass the exam properly."
He gave Skyl an exaggerated wink, implying he'd go easy on him.
There was no need. Skyl's performance was flawless. Nearly every charm in the textbook—he'd practised it hundreds of times in the Tower of Tomes, until it was second nature.
The first task was to use a charm to make an orange on the table do a backward somersault.
As Skyl prepared to cast, the examiner even reminded him to take out his wand.
"I don't usually use a wand," Skyl said. He had two "wands." One was his miraculous fork, only taken out for big scenes. The other was a cypress wand he'd bought at Ollivanders—mostly to keep up appearances.
When Skyl demonstrated smooth, effortless wandless, nonverbal magic, the examiner looked ready to faint from sheer joy. "I've never seen a student this incredible! Merlin's beard—you absolutely deserve a professor's title!"
The later tasks grew more difficult, but Skyl handled them all with ease.
"Full marks! Without question!"
Waiting by the door, Professor Flitwick looked delighted for him. The candidates who went after Skyl also benefited—at least a little—from the examiner's excellent mood.
Twelve subjects in total, spread over two weeks. Skyl reckoned he'd get at least nine Outstandings. Possibly ten. As for Divination and Arithmancy—Arithmancy went a bit better, but in the Divination exam his "conclusion" nearly made the chief examiner collapse. He told her she would turn into a bull three years from now, and her husband would become a king—except, in reality, her husband had been dead for more than a decade.
When the exams ended, the school year officially slipped into its final stretch. In the common room, the only topic left was where to go for the summer.
Skyl glanced at the mark on his hand. [World IV] had appeared—before long, he'd be able to explore a new world again.
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