They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room

They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron and Hermione, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

‘But why sack Hagrid now?’ asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. ‘It's not like Trelawney; he's been teaching much better than usual this year!’

‘Urnbridge hates part-humans,’ said Hermione bitterly, flopping down into an armchair. ‘She was always going to try and get Hagrid out.’

‘And she thought Hagrid was putting Nifflers in her office,’ piped up Katie Bell.

‘Oh, blimey,’ said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. ‘It's me who's been putting the Nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple; I've been levitating them in through her window.’

‘She'd have sacked him anyway,’ said Dean. ‘He was too close to Dumbledore.’

‘That's true,’ said Harry, sinking into an armchair beside Hermione's.

‘I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right,’ said Lavender tearfully.

‘They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window,’ said Colin Creevey. ‘She didn't look very well.’

‘Madam Pomfrey will sort her out,’ said Alicia Spinnet firmly. ‘She's never failed yet.’

It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Harry felt wide awake; the image of Hagrid sprinting away into the dark was haunting him; he was so angry with Umbridge he could not think of a punishment bad enough for her, though Ron's suggestion of having her fed to a box of starving Blast-Ended Skrewts had its merits. He fell asleep contemplating hideous revenges and arose from bed three hours later feeling distinctly unrested.

Their final exam, History of Magic, was not to take place until that afternoon. Harry would very much have liked to go back to bed after breakfast, but he had been counting on the morning for a spot of last-minute revision, so instead he sat with his head in his hands by the common-room window, trying hard not to doze off as he read through some of the three-and-a-half-feet-high stack of notes that Hermione had lent him.

The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination papers. Harry felt exhausted. He just wanted this to be over, so that he could go and sleep; then tomorrow, he and Ron were going to go down to the Quidditch pitch—he was going to have a fly on Ron's broom—and savour their freedom from revision.

‘Turn over your papers,’ said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. ‘You may begin ’

Harry stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to him that he had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, tortuously, he at last began to write an answer.

He was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749 and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?) but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere.