An OWL Selected

She was required to take at least one class per month, but she could fill her schedule with as many as six. More points for Slytherin. There was Quidditch, and a special train to Saint Mungo's. She earmarked that page. It would be nice to see her Arithmancy professor again. She had really enjoyed the class until that afternoon. He had been an unpleasant git, no lie to that, but no one deserved what had happened to him.

And Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. She was eligible to sit for one OWL each year. She read and re-read the descriptions, trying to decide among the twelve. Charms--no, Defense Against the Dark Arts! No, Potions! No, Divination! So hard to choose just one. Hmm . . . Divination. That gave her an idea.

She laid the heavy tome on the bed, open to the description of the OWLs, picked up her quill in both hands. No aiming, this needed to be completely up to the laws of chance. She closed her eyes, and let it fall. Wherever it struck nearest would be the OWL she sat for.

Totenberg grinned as he saw what she was doing. Motioning the others to silence, he waited until she released the feather, and blew. The quill dabbed at Charms, skimmed past Defense Against the Dark Arts, and pointed at Astronomy.

Spike opened her eyes. Astronomy. She sighed. Long cold hours at night up in the Tower, and classes during the day. Very well. When you leave your destiny in the hands of the fates, after all . . .

"Why are you all smirking like that?"