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She jumped up and started walking round and round the kitchen, twisting her fingers together.
"Mrs. Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning." "Yes, dear, I'd have noticed," said Mrs. Weasley patiently. "But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time. . . ." "I know I messed up Ancient Runes," muttered Hermione feverishly, "I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back —" "Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who's nervous!" barked Ron. "And when you've got your eleven 'Outstanding Oils ..." "Don't, don't, don't!" said Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything!" "What happens if we fail." Harry asked the room at large, but it was again Hermione who answered.
"We discuss our options with our Head of House, I asked Professor McGonagall at the end of last term." Harry's stomach squirmed. He wished he had eaten less breakfast.
"At Beauxbatons," said Fleur complacently, "we 'ad a different way of doing things. I think eet was better. We sat our examinations after six years of study, not five, and then —" Fleur's words were drowned in a scream. Hermione was pointing through the kitchen window. Three black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.
"They're definitely owls," said Ron hoarsely, jumping up to join Hermione at the window.
"And there are three of them," said Harry, hastening to her other side.
"One for each of us," said Hermione in a terrified whisper. "Oh no ... oh no ... oh no ..." She gripped both Harry and Ron tightly around the elbows.
The owls were flying directly at the Burrow, three handsome tawnies, each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope.
"Oh no!" squealed Hermione.
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