The physical and written exam were right out. Like homework, Barth dreaded any sort of testing. And while he liked spells and hexes, the lessons on the subject had been scarce, and he didn't see a request for curses on the list... probably for good reason.

There might be some incoming if the school was shut down.

Christof's expression as he had left Barth, gloomily in line for Physical testing, hardened Barth's resolve. If this could get them time - he headed towards the Defensive Arts session, coldly following his mood. Dread still boiled up. Exams. Did it have to be exams? Did everything have to hedge on a school and a loophole in paperwork?

And there was still that form to fill out, and knowing Amity the exam would be a tank of lava filled with those awful teethy things, or a race on a narrow cliffside, or any number of things that had nothing to do with defense and everything to do with setting out personally to try and kill Barth.

He was extremely relieved to find only a device that displayed a numerical rating.

After that, it was easier. He straightened, looking cooly ahead and thinking of his claws, and Christof and Calder. The ooze beaded like sweat from his arm and palm and fingers, dripping in a honeyed gloppy drizzle in a puddle of colors, fleshy grey, sorrel, black, green, piles and piles, until two piles stood before him, wobbling in vaguely familiar shapes. Their faceless stares were attentive, waiting.

"Protect-" he hesitated, the images of Christof and Calder still clear in his mind. These goolems had been built to do so, he realized belatedly. But Christof and Calder weren't here. It didn't matter. They were formed. They would do as he instructed them. "me," he said.

The goolems moved closer to him, waiting again quietly, ready to move fluidly to intercept any blows from the boogeyman or the machine.

The machine only offered a number.

Score: 8.5