Transfiguration... Bloody Transfiguration. She’d never been able to grasp the theories, never truly mastered the spells needed for this year. Her turtles’ shells always remained china like the teapots they had been, although her last turtle had moved across her desk, so perhaps she was finally improving. But was it enough to scrape an Acceptable in the O.W.L. next week?
She felt tears start in her eyes. Martha was not particularly bright. She put in the work but it never seemed to translate into grades, and she’d struggled throughout her time at Hogwarts. There was only one subject (if you could call it a subject) that she excelled at “ flying. Martha Macdonald was the Seeker on the Gryffindor team. Not only was she a Seeker, she was the best Seeker at Hogwarts and it was her dream to play professionally. The trouble was that at sixteen, no team would take her on, and her dad had warned her that he’d pull her out of school and find her a job at the Ministry, if she didn’t scrape at least four O.W.L.s. If she had to leave Hogwarts before she was of age, then she had no chance of making it as a pro. For now, she had to ignore her growling stomach, and the insistent image of her broomstick, which her sister had locked away in case she was tempted to sneak off to the Quidditch pitch to fly, and return to her studying.
Bending over the text and trying now to blink back the tears, she bit her lip as the words blurred under her gaze. Other students were packing up now, desperate for food and banter to take their minds off the looming exams, but Martha stayed put. She had to take more notes, could not put her book down now.
“You there!” Madam Pince rapped out from her desk. Martha looked up in alarm. “Are you planning to leave soon?”
Martha shook her head. “I thought I’d skip dinner tonight and stay here.” She caught the librarian’s glare and bit her lip, adding, “If that’s all right with you?”
Madam Pince rose and strode across to her. “Miss Macdonald. It is nearly ten o’clock. You may want to stay here, but I wish to leave. I will be locking the library in ten minutes.” She paused and for a moment, Martha thought she spied a small smile on her face. “Gather up your books. You may return in the morning, before breakfast, if you wish.”
Martha sighed, but nodded and wearily began to pack up the heavy textbooks and reams of parchment she’d spread out over the table. Looking around, she realised she was the last to leave. Perhaps, she thought, if I’d spent more time in the library instead of on the Quidditch pitch then I wouldn’t have this last minute panic.
Slowly, she trudged back to Gryffindor Tower, scanning her notes as she walked, desperate not to lose any time. Some instinct told her to avoid the trick step, but as she approached the Fat Lady, her mind went blank. What was the password?
“Um... Niffler?” she asked hopefully.
The Fat Lady sighed. “No, dear,” she answered. “That was last term. Try again.”
Martha frowned. Last term’s password had been used after James Potter had let loose a Niffler in the Slytherin changing room before their match against Hufflepuff. It had been very funny at the time, and because the Fat Lady adored her Gryffindors, she’d decided to honour his prank for that term. Martha racked her brains. What had she changed it to this time? It was no use. Her brain felt so woolly that she hardly heard the footsteps on the corridor floorboards. Two sets and some chat, too.
“Hello, Martha,” said a voice. Martha looked around and found herself looking into the smiling face of Lily Evans, one of the Gryffindor prefects and in the same year as her sister Mary. She was walking along with the other sixth year prefect, Remus Lupin, who was laughing.
“Oh, Lily, thank Merlin!” Martha exclaimed. “I can’t remember the password and the Fat Lady won’t let me in. I know it’s got something to do with a prank, but it’s not Niffler, that was last term.” She pounded her head with her fist. “I can’t remember anything. I’m useless at the moment-” She broke off and began to gulp for breath.
Lily moved closer and carefully put an arm around her. Martha noticed her give Remus a glance, and he approached the portrait. “Kneazles,” he murmured and the door swung open.
Martha caught her breath. Kneazles, of course. Sirius Black had been caught smuggling one into Professor Slughorn’s private quarters, knowing full well (although he denied it) that the Potions Master was allergic to their fur and would sneeze uncontrollably when in their vicinity.
How could I forget that? she thought. Sirius had to scrub cauldrons for a whole weekend. She giggled hysterically as she thought about his purple-stained fingers holding her hand.
“Are you okay?” Lily asked quietly, her voice full of concern.
“Um, not sure really,” Martha whispered, suddenly aware that her hands were shaking as she picked up her stack of books. She followed Lily through the door, smiling at Remus as he stepped aside to let the girls through.
“MARTHA!” exclaimed Sirius from across the common room. “I’ve been looking for you. Where did you get to?”
“Library,” she said, sighing. “Studying.”
Sirius strode across the floor and put his arms around her. Little caring that they were in a crowded room, he dropped a kiss on her cheek and then leant in closer for a more intense kiss on her lips. “Want to go for a walk?” he murmured into her ear.
“I can’t,” she replied, fretfully. “I have another four chapters to read on Transfiguration and then Charms to mug up on.”
Was she imagining the irritation in his eyes?
“I have my O.W.L.s next week,” she snapped defensively.
Sirius raised one eyebrow quizzically. “You’re allowed an hour off, Martha.” Then he grinned and flicked his forefinger at her topknot. “I like the hair, by the way.”
Giggling, Martha pulled out the ribbon and ran her fingers through her curls until they fell about her face in their usual haphazard way. Sirius always made her feel better. She knew she should probably spend another hour or so before bed reading and taking notes, but suddenly being with him was far more important.
“Where are we going?” she asked, smiling up at him.
Theory of Charms was her first exam. After managing to swallow a small piece of toast, and being assured by Sirius that the O.W.L. was a ‘piece of cake’, Martha felt reasonably confident that she’d do well “ or if not well, she’d at least not fail. She walked into the Great Hall, trying not to gulp at the serried ranks of desks stretching right to the back. Instead, she found her place, set out her quill and waited for Professor Flitwick to say ‘Begin.’ She could do this. She was sure.
One minute after turning over her parchment, Martha realised how wrong she was. The questions loomed before her and she felt her brain turn to mush as her memory fled.
What is the spell used to force an Animagus to assume its correct shape?
Martha swallowed.
She didn’t know.
She read question two.
Describe the wand movement and incantation for a Summoning spell.
‘Oh, Merlin,” she muttered. “I can’t remember. Ac “ something?” She cast a glance at her neighbours and felt even more miserable. They were all scribbling away, engrossed in their work. Lysander, a fellow Gryffindor, was even grinning to himself. Focus!
List the uses for the Gripping Charm.
At last, a question she could answer. She smiled as she remembered James casting this charm on the Quaffle in order to help his fellow Chasers. He’d rued the fact that it couldn’t be used on the Snitch, but then Martha had declared that it would take the fun out of the game for her. James had looked at her with a hint of exasperation but then grinned. We won that match, she thought dreamily as her mind filled with images of her looping the loop, soaring in the sky upon currents of air and swooping down to snatch the Snitch away from Regulus Black.
“There are thirty minutes left,” announced Professor Flitwick.
“Noooooo!” screamed Martha to the general amusement of the Great Hall. Professor Flitwick frowned at her, so she mouthed ‘sorry’ and then returned to her paper. So caught up with her reminiscences of the game, she’d barely written anything else and totally failed to return to the questions at the beginning. Tears formed in her eyes and then suddenly she felt them falling down her cheeks, landing with a splat onto her parchment. It was useless. She was useless. She could never pass this. She’d failed her first exam and would be forced out of Hogwarts.
Unable to bear the smirking face of Lysander any longer (he’d never forgiven her for going out with Sirius instead of him) she stood up and ran out of the hall, careening into desks and sending inkpots flying. She didn’t heed Professor Flitwick’s voice; she just ran as far away as she could, out of the Entrance Hall and across the grounds until she reached the Quidditch pitch.
Too late, she realised that she didn’t have her broom, but in a further wave of despair, she wondered what would be the point. She wasn’t going to be able to play again, so why bother? Slumped against the goalpost, Martha sat with her head against her robes and wept.
“Hello,” Sirius voice cut through her sobs. “I was waiting for you outside the Hall. How did it go?”
“Bloody marvellous,” she retorted sarcastically. “Can’t you tell?”
“I only asked,” he muttered. “There’s no need to sound so narky!”
“They asked such stupid questions,” she wailed. “I mean, how am I supposed to know the spell to show an Animagus’ true form? It’s not as if I’ll ever need it. They’re all registered, aren’t they?” She heard Sirius splutter and cough at this point but she was too upset with the exam and herself to care. “I’m useless!”
Then Sirius lowered himself to the ground. He put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. She started to sob again. “Oh, come on, Martha. It’s just an exam. Everyone always thinks they’ve done badly, but only the really thick fail.”
“Did you think you’d done badly?” she asked, keeping her voice as steady as possible. Sirius’ mouth twitched. “No, I thought not. You have no idea what it’s like to be ‘thick’ as you so charmingly put it. So don’t bloody patronise me!” She stood up and started to walk away, but Sirius caught her arm
“I’m not patronising you!” he exclaimed, beginning to lose his cool. “But for Merlin’s sake, it’s just one exam. Who gives a Dugbog if you fail it?”
“I DO!” she screeched at him. “Don’t you understand? If I don’t get enough O.W.L.s, then Dad says I have to leave Hogwarts and get a job. I HAVE to pass, Sirius, or I won’t be coming back.”
He lessened his grip on her arm, but said nothing.
“I’m not like you,” she ranted. “Or James, or even Mary. I can’t just waltz in there having done no revision and get ten Outstandings ... or whatever it was you got. I need to work ... and I do work ... but it NEVER sinks in, Sirius. I see the questions and I panic. My brain freezes and I just can’t think of the answers, can’t will my fingers to work.”
There was a long, long silence. Martha extracted her arm from Sirius’ hand and clutched her sides. Despite the early summer sun, she felt cold and exposed here on the Quidditch pitch. She looked around, wondering if this would be the last time she saw it. She wouldn’t play again as it was the end of the season. Her last match, against Ravenclaw, had been wonderful, but next year she wouldn’t be around to help James and the others defend their crown. A solitary tear slid down her cheek and she turned away from the pitch, ready to walk back to the Tower.
Sirius took her hand and pulled her to him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t know this was so difficult for you. You’re right, I do find this all pretty easy, but I’m here now, and I’m listening.” Then he stretched out his hand and pulled out her wand. “Come on; practise your Charms on me, Martha Macdonald.”
“Huh?”
He grinned a little goofily. “I don’t mean your own personal charms. I mean your spells and hexes. You have a practical this afternoon and I’m going to make sure you not only pass, but you pass with a ...” he twirled his own wand, “...flourish. ”
She smiled slightly and then giggled as he produced a jet of water that squirted into his own face. “That’s Aguamenti, isn’t it?”
He nodded. Martha stepped closer and, standing on tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek, smiling as the water from his hair trickled onto her face. “Thank you,” she said shyly and pulled him down for another kiss, relishing his lips against hers.
“Uh-uh.” Sirius pulled away. “We’re not doing that now. You, Martha, have an exam in less than three hours.” He paused. “And when you’ve finished, I think we have a whole load of Transfiguration notes to get through for tomorrow.” He ran his hand through her hair, tracing her cheekbone with his forefinger. “I don’t want you to leave, either.”
Martha flung her arms around his neck. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”
“I try my best,” Sirius replied modestly. “Oh, and by the way, I didn’t pass all my O.W.L.s.”
“You didn’t?” Martha looked both surprised and intrigued.
“I failed Divination,” he announced and then snorted. “But I’d already seen that one coming.”