In the past, Christmas holidays at Grimmauld usually involved Sirius, Harry, Kreacher, Remus, Dora and Stella, Marlene, Hermione and Draco, and some combination of Weasleys. This year was a little different, for several reasons.

It was a fuller house than usual due to the Order members coming and going, but Draco had gone back to the Malfoys for Christmas this year, and Fleur—who'd been a fairly constant presence since June—had portkeyed home to visit her family in France. Marlene was around, but in a different capacity compared to previous years; it had been a year since Marlene ended things between them, and the thought threw Sirius more than he'd expected it to.

The other big difference was the energy around the house. The school holidays were always chaos—the best sort of chaos, in Sirius' opinion—but this year, there had not been games of chess and Exploding Snap nor snowball fights in the park across the street, or afternoons spent flying around Remus' back garden or in the orchard at the Burrow.

Instead, with the kids having arrived only three days before they were due to sit their O.W.L.s, the focus had been on ensuring they were ready for whatever the Ministry and Wizarding Examinations Authority decided to throw at them; Umbridge was, after all, rapidly working her way up the Order's list of important enemies. More to the point, she was one they could actually do something to combat at the moment, which meant Harry, Ron, and Hermione'd had the entire Order at their disposal for help revising, whether they wanted it or not.

Fred, George, and Dora had been ambushing them with impromptu duels on the stairwell at every opportunity—the last with cries of 'Constant vigilance!'—to test their reflexes and application of defensive magic.

Remus and Matt had managed to procure several pixies, and a hinkypunk for them to practice defending themselves against. A boggart, too, which Hermione spent a few hours practicing against one afternoon, though both Harry and Ron had bowed out of that session and neither Sirius nor any of the others pushed them on that.

"Probably for the best," Remus said to Sirius later after everyone else had gone to bed; Sirius had his arm soaking in murtlap essence (he'd found that was a good way to keep the pain at bay through the night without needing numbing charms or pain potions), and Remus was bouncing a restless Stella back to sleep. "It was bad enough working through the Umbridge-boggart that told Hermione she was being exiled from the wizarding world."

Sirius grimaced, eyes flicking toward the ceiling, in the direction of the room Hermione was sharing with Ginny. He knew Umbridge had threatened her with something similar the night she was questioned, and wasn't surprised the fear had stuck.

"I'm not sure what Ron's afraid of… or, rather, afraid of the boggart becoming," Remus continued, "but he was adamant he wasn't taking part." A wry smile tugged one side of his mouth up. "And honestly, anything that scares Harry's probably not anything the rest of us are equipped to deal with."

Sirius huffed a laugh, grim.

Remus also made himself available to work with Harry, Ron, and Hermione on defensive theory, as—surprisingly—did Mad-Eye. Sturgis Podmore and Amelia Bones spent an entire morning with them, talking through the Ministry's current legislation around defensive magic, lest the Ministry try to use the O.W.L.s to trip them up on technicalities or prove some sort of political point, and Bill worked with them on basic protective enchantments. He and Harry spent time tucked away practicing more complex curse-breaking, too—with some success—and continued trying to remove the Mark—which was less successful.

Sirius, for his part, helped Kreacher and Molly keep everyone supplied with hot chocolate and gingerbread and mince pies, and ran training sessions alongside Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dora, and Marlene for the other Order members, which Hermione and Ginny regularly joined by virtue of the deal they'd struck with Arthur and Molly in July, and Ron attended under the guise of O. W. L. preparation; Ron had technically traded his ability to attend training sessions for his ability to attend meetings, but neither Molly nor Arthur made any effort to enforce that.

All in all, they'd prepared for much, much more than they were likely to need at O.W.L. level—probably more than they'd need for N.E.W.T.s, even—but no one knew what Umbridge might try. Given McGonagall's warnings about what was at stake if they failed, Sirius wasn't sure there could be such a thing as over-preparation.

"It's not like it's been a waste of time," Sirius muttered, as he, Dora, and Stella headed downstairs on the morning of the twenty-second. "Even if they don't need it all today, it'll probably come in handy against a Death Eater at some point." Perhaps even Voldemort himself, knowing Harry's luck.

Though it was not yet eight o'clock, they were almost the last to come downstairs for breakfast.

A serious-faced Ron was sitting between Bill and Percy, who were peppering him with questions like, "What's the definition of 'dark' magic?" and "How would you defend yourself against a vampire?"

At the other end of the table, Hermione was yet to draw breath, and seemed to be doing her best to recite a Defence textbook—one that sounded too relevant to be Slinkhard's—from memory, while a very patient Remus and Arthur served as her audience.

Harry alone was not cramming in last minute revision. He was talking with Ginny, Fred, George, and Cedric—who'd stayed over in the bunkroom the night before—while Kreacher served them breakfast.

The sight made Sirius pause at the foot of the stairs, while Dora continued over to the table with a cheery 'Good morning!'.

Harry'd been doing better by the end of the summer holidays compared to how he'd been when they first started, but even then, he was barely recognisable when Sirius looked at him now. He still wore long sleeves to cover the Mark and the stump of his hand, but his arm moved freely in a way it hadn't before. He'd accepted it, in the sense that he no longer seemed determined to hide it, or avoid using it. He no longer stared at his breakfast with helpless resentment, either. Sirius had watched him direct his cutlery like a conductor might direct an orchestra in the preceding days, so it was clear he'd learned to get by at school.

This morning, though, Kreacher had cut his toast for him, and rather than look awkward or angry about the special treatment, Harry just smiled and thanked him and then turned to cock his head at Sirius in a silent question.

Sirius smiled to himself, waved a hand, and went to sit down.

Kreacher set Sirius' own decidedly uncut breakfast down in front of him.

"You're not going to do mine too?" Sirius asked, only half-joking as he nodded across the table at Harry's plate. He massaged his forearm, wondering if he'd ever get used to the feel of the pitted skin.

"How will Master Sirius heal if Kreacher does everything for him?" Kreacher asked, ears flapping as he shook his head. "No, no, Master Sirius can cut his own breakfast."

Sirius pulled a face at the elf's back as he strode away, making Hermione giggle mid-textbook-recital.

"I can do yours for you if you'd like, Padfoot," Remus offered, steering the tiny mouthful of toast and egg that had been destined for Stella toward him instead.

She made a sound of protest, reaching for the fork.

"Here comes the Hogwarts Express…"

Sirius scowled. "Forget vampires," he said, raising his voice so they'd hear him at the other end of the table. "How would you go about making a werewolf really uncomfortable? Any ideas?"

Hermione twitched at the prospect of an answerable question, but Dora beat her to it.

"Compliment his self-worth," she suggested as she reached for her coffee.

The fork hung suspended over the table as Remus looked at his wife with a raised eyebrow.

Sirius sniggered and leaned forward to bite the toast off it, and Remus threw his hands up in the air, scent thoroughly amused.


Hermione felt like her head might explode from the sheer volume of Defence and Ministry content she had sitting in it at the moment. She was itching for the written component of their exam, when she'd be able to let it all spill out in a flood of ink and information.

In the meantime, she kept up a silent recital of what she knew to ensure it was all there: dark spells can be categorised as either jinxes, hexes, or—

"Malfoy wishes us luck," Ron muttered, tucking a familiar looking piece of parchment into his pocket.

Hermione attempted a smile, but wasn't sure she managed it. —curses. How they're categorised depends on—

Percy checked his watch. "Sirius should be clear by now—I know we're sending Harry last, but who's first?"

"Ron first," Mr Weasley said.

Ron nodded, gave Mrs Weasley a hug, and disappeared into the Floo with a murmured, "Ministry of Magic."

"Hermione," Mr Weasley said, and Kreacher stepped forward to offer her the pot of Floo powder that lived in Grimmauld's kitchen.

Hermione took a pinch.

"Remember to be nice and clear, when you speak, dear," Mrs Weasley said, squeezing her shoulder. "Good luck!"

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath in before she stepped into the green flames. "Ministry of Magic," she said, and then she was sucked away.

Having grown up in the muggle world, Hermione greatly appreciated the speed of wizarding transportation, even more so because they were generally so unpleasant it was good to have them over and done with quickly.

The green flames and soot of the Floo raced past, the fire roaring and crackling in her ears, and then the grate was there—approaching too fast, as always. She flinched instinctively, spilling out on unsteady feet into the sudden brightness of the Ministry of Magic's Atrium.

Sirius reached out to steady her with his good arm, but Ron was there and ready, catching her by the elbow before she could knock into any of the dozens of witches and wizards scurrying out of the other fireplaces. Ron tugged her out of the way just as Percy stepped tidily out of the Floo, adjusting his horn-rimmed spectacles.

Harry came next, stumbling out of the Floo about as ungracefully as Hermione herself had, and then Mr Weasley brought up the rear, ushering them away from the fireplaces altogether.

Hermione had never before set foot in the Ministry of Magic, though she'd seen plenty of pictures of the Atrium in the books she'd read. The Fountain of Magical Brethren was there, and was far more impressive to behold in person. Progressive, too, in terms of its symbolism and intention, though she wasn't sure how many of the people around them properly appreciated it; the Ministry certainly didn't feel all that welcoming.

She and the boys had foregone robes in favour of jeans and jumpers, and their muggle attire garnered quite a few stares and curled lips. Then, people seemed to notice Harry and the stares grew far more intent.

Harry's jaw set but he otherwise didn't acknowledge any of the attention. Both Sirius and Ron started to move a little closer to him, but Harry gave a small shake of his head.

They joined the queue for the wand-checker. Sirius had told her about the Ministry's security measures, but that didn't make Hermione feel any more comfortable about passing her wand over to the uniformed witch behind the desk when the time came.

She felt bare without it, vulnerable. If they were attacked, she wouldn't be able to defend herself. And if the wand-checker decided not to return her wand, then she would be unable to complete any of the practical components of her Defence O.W.L., and—

"Thank you, miss," said the wand-checker, and passed Hermione's wand back.

Hermione curled her fingers tightly around it, relieved.

Once they'd all passed the wand-checker's inspection and were allowed into the next section of the Ministry, Percy started to veer off in a different direction to the one Sirius and Mr Weasley were leading Hermione and the boys.

"You're not coming with us?" Hermione asked.

"My presence won't do you any favours, now I'm a known Order member," Percy said, looking between her, Ron, and Harry.

"So are Dad and Sirius, though," Ron said.

"Yes, so it's best I don't come along and make things worse," Percy said. "I'll see you all tonight—good luck!" He patted each of them on the shoulders and then swept away, disappearing quickly into the masses of people waiting for the lifts.

Sirius and Mr Weasley led them to a different set of lifts, where they went—well, actually, Hermione couldn't really tell whether they ultimately went up, down, or sideways; the lift they took moved in all of those ways at various points. But, eventually, it stopped and they walked down a long corridor, up a flight of stairs, and then caught another lift. Hermione was incredibly glad for Sirius and Mr Weasley; she wasn't sure she'd have had much luck navigating the Ministry without them.

Eventually, they reached a room a little larger than some of the bigger classrooms at Hogwarts. There was a long table at the front of it, and a set of sloping observation stands opposite the door they'd entered through. Otherwise, the room was completely empty.

Anxiety tugged at Hermione's stomach; what if they'd got the time wrong, or come to the wrong room, somehow—

Mr Weasley checked his watch. "We're a few minutes early," he said. "I imagine the examiners will be along shortly.

Thankfully, he proved correct; Hermione'd just gone back to her mental recitations of her Defence notes when Harry and Sirius' heads twitched back toward the doors. A few seconds later, Hermione heard voices, then footsteps, and then a group of people arrived.

Three of them were dressed in crisp black robes bearing the emblem of the Wizarding Examinations Authority; two were very old—a short, white haired witch, and a balding wizard with pince nez glasses—while the other was younger… familiar, even, though it wasn't until Hermione heard Harry's sharp intake of breath that she was able to place him; Lawrence Gibbon, who'd been a Gryffindor Prefect during their first and second years at Hogwarts.

He was also a Death Eater.

Hermione watched Harry's jaw work, and Ron's eyebrows pull together into a frown. She reached into her pocket and curled her fingers more tightly around her wand.

Umbridge, dressed in gaudy pink and silver robes, came next, alongside Fudge and a pair of men Hermione didn't know; they flanked Fudge and Umbridge like guards, so she supposed there was a chance they might be Aurors.

Lastly—but certainly not least because the sight of her buoyed Hermione immensely—came Professor McGonagall. She'd dressed for the occasion in green tartan robes. She had a large, festive poinsettia flower pinned to her hat, and wore a gleaming red and gold Gryffindor neck brooch. She favoured each of them with a small smile.

"Welcome, examinees," said the short, white-haired witch in a stronger, clearer voice than Hermione had expected from such a frail looking frame. "I am Madam Griselda Marchbanks, your chief examiner for today. With me are my fellow examiners—Professor Edmund Tofty, and Mr Lawrence Gibbon. If I could ask any observers to please make their way to the observation area…"

Sirius and Mr Weasley bid them goodbye with whispers of 'good luck' and 'we'll be right here', and pats on the shoulder, and then moved after McGonagall, Fudge, Umbridge, and the other two. They settled themselves at the opposite end of the stands to Umbridge, while Professor McGonagall sat alone in the middle. Hermione suspected she was being careful not to seem too friendly with Sirius and Mr Weasley, but it spoke volumes that she hadn't sat herself with Umbridge and Fudge.

"We're all doing whatever we can to pass today, remember?" Ron muttered.

Hermione nodded; they'd agreed not to intervene at all in each others' testing, whatever happened. If they couldn't all pass—which was still the intention—then it was better that at least one or two of them did. Too much was at stake not to—the chance to continue into N.E.W.T. level Defence, and no more lessons with Umbridge.

Harry probably heard, but didn't take his eyes off Gibbon.

"You are Miss Hermione Jean Granger?" Madam Marchbanks asked Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione said.

"Dolores or Minerva, are you able to confirm her identity?"

"I can confirm that is Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said.

Madam Marchbanks nodded and repeated the process with Harry, then Ron. Once she'd finished that, she said, "The examination will run for approximately three hours, and will consist of three parts; we shall begin with practical demonstrations of your competency with the defensive magics outlined in the O.W.L. curriculum. We shall then move to the written component of your examination, and finally, finish with the individual component, which will test your application of defensive magics both theoretically and practically."

Hermione let out a quiet breath, bracing herself.

"Should you have any questions during the examination, please raise your hand, and one of us will do our best to answer you. Do you have any questions before we begin?"