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HP456- Perfect Score
🕑 Added 2025-06-25 20:34:19 +0000 UTCThat weekend, the Daily Prophet printed a full front-page spread titled: Hogwarts Prodigy Breaks the Scale—Ministry Creates New Grade for Potter. The photo beneath it showed Harry in profile, wand in hand mid-cast, with a blinding silver Patronus swirling behind him. Rita had outdone herself... half the article was quotes from unnamed Ministry sources claiming “unprecedented skill,” the other half was dedicated to the word Marvelous in bold.
“Why is this everywhere?” Pansy muttered, flipping the paper over to check the back as if the article might be hiding there too.
“He is marvelous, apparently,” Tracey said, sitting cross-legged on the Slytherin common room rug, reading a second copy with far too much enjoyment. “Did you pose for this?”
“He did not,” Hermione replied, snatching the extra issue from her lap. “That’s from the Charms exam. The camera shouldn’t have even been in there.”
Daphne glanced up from where she was lounging on the couch. “Centre spread. The Ministry’s golden boy.”
“Rita probably bribed someone,” Blaise said, lazily waving his hand. “Or threatened them. Same difference.”
Astoria peeked in from the stairs, holding a copy like it was a badge. “You’re on the cover of Witch Weekly too. Mum nearly spat her tea.”
“She said you had a charming smirk,” Daphne added, flipping the page like this was all completely normal.
Nigel chuckled faintly. “Just saying. Your plans worked. With perks, clearly.”
Harry didn’t rise to it. He slid the paper closer, unfolded it, and began reading without much ceremony.
The Daily Prophet - Saturday Edition
“Marvelous Potter: Ministry Invents New OWL Grade”
By Rita Skeeter
In what may be the most dazzling academic spectacle Hogwarts has seen in decades, Harry Potter has not only broken every established OWL benchmark but forced the Ministry of Magic to invent an entirely new grade to accommodate his results.
Sources inside the Department of Magical Education confirmed that a new level, titled Marvelous, was officially added to this year’s Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Ancient Runes examinations following Potter’s “extraordinary demonstrations of skill, precision, and spell innovation.”
One examiner described Potter’s performance as “a showcase of mastery typically expected from seasoned professionals, not fifteen-year-olds.”
Another source, speaking under the condition of anonymity, confessed: “Frankly, he made the rest of the students look like they were sitting a first year exams. It wasn’t even close.”
Included with the article was a full breakdown of Potter’s exam performances, paired with glowing quotes, a few unnecessarily flattering sketches, and a line that read: “The Boy Who Lived… Now The Boy Who Marvels.”
Harry flipped the page, mildly unimpressed.
“Bit much,” he muttered.
“Don’t be modest,” Tracey chimed from the side. “They barely mentioned your Patronus Armour. That alone deserved its own column.”
Astoria was perched on the couch arm next to him, reading over his shoulder. “You didn’t tell them about the rune cloth?”
Harry shook his head, chuckling, "That would be a tad overboard."
“Witches all across Britain will be framing this,” Pansy said, flipping past the centre page. “There’ll be shrines. You’ll be worse than Lockhart.”
“Dashing,” Daphne added without looking up from the article. “That’s the word Witch Weekly used.”
Harry tilted his head. “Well, at least they’re consistent.”
“Don't start,” Harry muttered, but he was grinning.
Astoria leaned over the couch arm. “If they send fan mail, can I open it?”
“No,” Tracey said immediately. “Last time you tried to ‘sort’ his letters, half of them got arranged by hair colour.”
“That’s a perfectly sensible way,” Astoria sniffed.
Next week followed the usual pattern, written exam in the morning, practical in the afternoon, but with less panic and more curiosity from the examiners whenever Harry's name came up.
Potions was first. Harry showed after everyone else, sleeves already rolled. He didn’t bring his best work, nothing from the company stock, but the recipes he used were still a solid tier above anything in the standard curriculum. He brewed an advanced version of the Invigoration Draught that finished ten minutes quicker than usual without any loss in potency. Slipped in a stabilised Concentration Serum that didn’t fog the mind like the Ministry's standard draft. Exam panel asked a few questions. One of them tried to note down his formula before realising Harry had swapped two ingredients without mentioning it.
“You adjusted the foxglove ratio?” one asked.
Harry nodded. “Otherwise it triggers drowsiness when brewed in copper.”
The examiner stared at the cauldron. “That’s... not in the book.”
Harry gave a small smile. “It is now.”
They gave him Marvelous. Again.
Care of Magical Creatures had the same setup as always. The theory part was standard fare... classifications, handling techniques, breeding restrictions. Harry wrote his answers with ease, adding side comments when the textbook contradicted field use. One of the questions asked for the ethical implications of taming Thestrals, and he noted that the Ministry’s regulation had nothing to do with the creature and everything to do with superstition.
After lunch, the practical started in the usual clearing near Hagrid’s hut. Most of the students went in groups, two or three at a time. Some came back brushing leaves off their robes, others still muttering about their encounter with the Bowtruckles.
Then Hagrid called out, loud and cheerful, “Harry! You are last. Come on, we’ve got something special.”
The other students lingered just long enough to be nosy, but Hagrid waved them off with a grin. “Off yeh go. Yeh will hear about it soon enough.”
Harry followed him through the path leading toward the edge of the forest.
“You are not going to try and get me mauled, are you?” Harry asked casually.
Hagrid chuckled. “Nah. Nothing dangerous. Just... a bit sensitive.”
Hagrid, bless his oversized heart, hadn’t even waited for Harry to speak before telling the examiners how “young Harry handled Buckbeak back in third year, like a true natural... Hippogriffs respect him, they do.”
The three Ministry officials exchanged glances. One of them, a stern-looking wizard with a clipboard, adjusted his glasses and gave a polite nod. “We will still need to see it for ourselves.”
“Course,” Hagrid said cheerfully. “Got two of em waiting just up there. You will see, don’t like bowing to anyone, but with Harry? Different story.”
He wasn’t wrong. When they reached the small clearing, the first Hippogriff spotted Harry from a distance and immediately bent into a low bow. The second, a grizzled older one, followed with a sharp nod of its beaked head before lowering itself too.
Harry didn’t even raise his hand. Just stepped forward and waited. The bow was already done. By the time he reached the first Hippogriff, it had tucked its wings in and made a soft, chuffing noise, like it recognised him.
One examiner scribbled notes. The other two didn’t look convinced.
The witch on the left cleared her throat. “Very well-behaved. But we would like to see handling in action.”
Harry looked back at Hagrid, who gave a small shrug. “They won’t fight him.”
“Right,” Harry said, brushing his sleeve. “In that case... let’s move on. Hippogriffs are lovely, but if you want a bit of flash...”
He turned, whistled low and sharp. Nothing happened at first. Then, a quiet rustle came from the deeper grove.
Two unicorns emerged, stepping lightly across the moss. The air around them shimmered faintly, silver against the green. Their horns gleamed in the afternoon sun... elegant, untouched, the kind that normally spooked and turned from anything that wasn’t pure enough for them.
One of the examiners stiffened. “They usually don’t allow males to approach…”
Harry said nothing. Just stood there. The lead unicorn came forward, sniffed once, then stepped close enough to nudge at his sleeve.
He scratched gently behind its ear. “They like calm magic,” he said mildly.
The unicorn blinked slowly, then nosed at his pocket. Harry pulled out a thin sliver of birch bark. It nibbled it straight away.
By the time he walked back to the examiners, the clipboard wizard just gave a quiet shake of his head and said, “Marvelous.”
Astronomy came after dinner that night. Telescopes were already set up on the Astronomy Tower. The Ministry staff were perched on stools.
They gave the usual instructions, track the movement of Venus and Mars over the next hour, record their positions, then demonstrate theoretical application of planetary motion in wand-based spellcasting. Half the class stared blankly at that last bit.
Harry finished charting the motion path in twenty minutes, outlined a revised planetary influence cycle using shifting gravitational alignment, and added a note that the theory had no practical combat use unless someone tried to cast with planetary timing, which was absurd and slow.
He also added his twist, identified a rare celestial pattern and its historical link.
Harry pointed his telescope toward the sky and adjusted the view. “There is the Wandering Scythe.”
One of the examiners blinked. “That’s a Muggle name.”
“Only on paper,” Harry replied. “The alignment shows up in Chinese magical texts as the Celestial Knife. Used in weatherwork spells. Most accurate in spring.”
He handed over the sketch he'd made of the pattern, complete with casting fluctuations.
They didn’t bother asking for more. Gave him the result on the spot.
Marvelous.
Divination. Always a farce.
Harry showed up anyway.
The first part was tea leaves.
He stared at his cup. Nothing there.
“Dragon or goblet?” one examiner asked, peering in.
"I see... a crown being snapped in half. Someone important loses their title. Ministry scandal. Corruption.”
They moved to crystal balls.
“A goat with a monocle. Very dignified. Standing on a hill. Might be symbolic of political upheaval.”
Marvelous.
Arithmancy.
Numerical sequences, magical balance charts, name-value equations. He wrote out four pages before the room had even warmed up.
He added footnotes explaining why the fifth-cycle equations used in name-based protection spells could be trimmed with mirrored syllable adjustments. The next question asked him to break down spell construction using runic numbers... he rewrote it using a new chain method he’d invented in his second year.
Practical was theory demonstration. Most people barely managed the base equations. Harry walked them through how the number seven folds into binding rituals, pointed out the flaw in Merlin’s original Prime Matrix draft, and used his own wand to demonstrate a number-value overlay on a floating charm.
He wrote the equations midair. They hovered in perfect formation, runes glowing with each number.
They didn’t even wait for the scoresheet. One examiner just looked at the other two and said, “That is another Marvelous.”
History of Magic was the final one.
The written was three and a half hours. Hermione looked like she was taking dictation from Merlin himself. Most of the class looked like they were praying for death.
Harry kept it tidy. Three questions. Three essays.
Goblin Rebellions. He split it by cause, economic, legal, cultural, then tied each into the fallout legislation passed in 613 and 632. Quoted three obscure texts. Linked rebellion speech to changes in the Beast-Being classification debate. Left a note that the Ministry’s current handling was no better.
International Confederation of Wizards. He compared the original treaties signed in 692 to the modern-day Magical Secrets Act. Pointed out the contradictions. Suggested three amendments.
The development of magical law from the time of Uric the Oddball to the current Wizengamot structure.
The practical was standard... cross-reference obscure dates with matching magical reforms using physical record books.
Harry asked to use three volumes at once. The examiner raised an eyebrow but handed them over.
He flipped through them, pulling passages and stacking citations. “This reform? Direct copy of the 1421 clause. See the margin note? Stolen wording. They’ve been repackaging the same content for decades.”
The examiner’s quill stuttered mid-scratch.
He closed the last book. “They’re not subtle.”
Marvelous.
When it was all over, Harry found himself back in the common room with the others, lounging on the couch like he hadn’t just walked out of exam history.
Tracey tossed a cushion at him. “Right. How many is that now?”
Harry caught it. “All of them.”
“All?”
“Every. Single. One.”
Astoria gasped. “Even Divination?”
“Especially Divination.”
Daphne gave him a look. “They’re going to put you on a watchlist.”
Susan groaned, sliding onto the floor. “That’s it. You’ve ruined the curve for everyone. Hogwarts will never be the same.”
“Think of it this way,” Harry said, arms folded behind his head. “You’ll all look better by comparison.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.”
They didn’t argue.
Because he was right
