June had arrived, but to the fifth years this meant only one thing: Their O.W.L.s were upon them at last.
<…>
Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their study habits.
“How many hours d’you think you’re doing a day?” he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.
“I dunno,” said Ron. “A few . . .”
“More or less than eight?”
“Less, I s’pose,” said Ron, looking slightly alarmed.
“I’m doing eight,” said Ernie, <…> “Eight or nine. I’m getting an hour in before breakfast every day.
Читать далее