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⚡︎
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟎𝟔
ʳᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉᶜᵗ

"Mʀ. Wᴇᴀsʟᴇʏ, ɪꜰ Fᴜᴅɢᴇ ɪs ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ
ᴡɪᴛʜ Dᴇᴀᴛʜ Eᴀᴛᴇʀs ʟɪᴋᴇ Mᴀʟꜰᴏʏ, ɪꜰ
ʜᴇ's sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ᴡᴇ
ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ'ᴛ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴇʀɪᴜs
ᴄᴜʀsᴇ ᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ?"

𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐏𝐓 departure certainly took Harry by surprise to say the the least. As soon as he had been cleared, Dumbledore had sprung up from his seat and left without another word being said. However, Harry was feeling too shocked and too happy to care too much in the moment. Harry felt as though he were on cloud nine. Finally, all of this was over and he could go back to Hogwarts with Ron, Hermione, Tasmin etc.

Harry got up from his seat, not knowing if he was allowed to leave of not. Trying to catch Fudge's eye had failed, and Madame Bones had been far too fascinated in her briefcase to care. So, when nobody was looking, he took a few steps back, and without anybody saying anything, he sprinted out of the room not looking back once.

Slowing down to more of a jog, Harry noticed Mr. Weasley still standing where he had previously, just a little bit further back. He looked pale and apprehensive, even more so when he caught Harry's eye. If the look on the boy's face wasn't enough for him his next words sure would be.

"Dumbledore didn't say —" But before he had a chance to even finish his sentence, Harry had cut him off.

"— I'm all cleared!" Harry interrupted with a grin plastered on his face, much like that of one when he saw Sirius for the first time again. "Of all charges."

"Harry, that's wonderful! Well, of course, they couldn't have found you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, I can't pretend I wasn't —" Mr. Weasley beamed but broke off when he caught sight of the whole of the Wizengamot filing out of the courtroom.

"— Merlin's beard!" Mr. Weasley frowned while pulling Harry aside, out of their view. "You were tried by the full court?"

"I think so." Harry said quietly.

One or two of the passing wizards nodded to Harry as they passed and a few, including Madam Bones, said, "Morning, Arthur," to Mr. Weasley, but most averted their eyes. Cornelius Fudge and the toadlike witch were almost the last to leave the dungeon. Fudge acted as though Mr. Weasley and Harry were part of the wall, but again, the witch looked almost appraisingly at Harry as she passed. Last of all to pass was Percy. Like Fudge, and half the Wizengamot, he completely ignored his father and Harry; he marched past clutching a large roll of parchment and a handful of spare quills, his back rigid and his nose in the air. The lines around Mr. Weasley's mouth tightened slightly, but other than this he gave no sign that he had noticed his third son. Harry winced ever so slightly at that.

"I'm going to take you straight back so you can tell the others the good news," he said, beckoning Harry forward as Percy disappeared up the stairs and into the ninth level.

"I'll drop you off on the way to that toilet in Bethnal Green. Come on . . ."

"So what will you have to do about the toilet?" Harry asked, grinning, feeling as though a weight was suddenly lifted off his shoulders, and now he could breathe again.

"Oh, it's a simple enough anti - jinx," said Mr. Weasley as they mounted the stairs, "but it's not so much having to repair the damage, it's more the attitude behind the vandalism, Harry. Muggle - baiting might strike some wizards as funny, but it's an expression of something much deeper and nastier, and I for one —"

Mr. Weasley broke off in mid - sentence. They had just reached the ninth-level corridor, and Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from them, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face. One they both unfortunately recognised.

The second man turned at the sound of their footsteps. He too broke off in mid - conversation, his cold grey eyes fixed upon both Harry and Mr. Weasley.

"Well, well, well . . . Patronus Potter," said Lucius Malfoy coolly. Harry glowered at the nickname.

Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something heavy. He had last seen those cool gray eyes through slits in a Death Eater's hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. He could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

"The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter," drawled Mr. Malfoy. "Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes. . . . Snakelike, in fact . . ."

Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning. Warning him to not let the likes of Malfoy get to him.

"Yeah," said Harry, "yeah, I'm good at escaping . . ." The other two men present not noticing the double meaning to his words.

Lucius Malfoy raised his eyes to Mr. Weasley's face.

"And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?"

"I work here," said Mr. Weasley shortly, he too glowering menacingly at the man.

"Not here, surely?" said Mr. Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing toward the door over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. "I thought you were up on the second floor. . . . Don't you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artifacts home and bewitching them?"

"No," said Mr. Weasley curtly, his fingers now biting into Harry's shoulder.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Harry asked Lucius Malfoy.

"I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter," said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes; Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. "Really, just because you are Dumbledore's favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us. . . ."

"Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?"

"Certainly," said Fudge, turning his back on Harry and Mr. Weasley as though he had not heard during the exchange between the three. "This way, Lucius."

They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr. Weasley did not let go of Harry's shoulder until they had disappeared into the lift.

When they left, Harry was only thinking one thing, what was the minister doing talking to Lucius Malfoy?

"Why wasn't he waiting outside Fudge's office if they've got business to do together?" Harry burst out furiously. "What was he doing down here?"

"Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me," said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely agitated as he glanced over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. "Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. I'll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy's been talking to Fudge again."

"What private business have they got together anyway?"

"Gold, I expect," said Mr. Weasley angrily. "Malfoy's been giving generously to all sorts of things for years. . . . Gets him in with the right people . . . then he can ask favours . . . delay laws he doesn't want passed . . . Oh, he's very well connected, Lucius Malfoy . . ." Finished Mr. Weasley.

The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr. Weasley's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut; he waved them away irritably.

"Mr. Weasley," said Harry slowly, "if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on him?"

"Don't think it hadn't occurred to us, Harry," muttered Mr. Weasley. "But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment — which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort. . . . Best not talk about it anymore just now, Harry . . ."

The doors slid open and they stepped out into the now almost - deserted Atrium. Eric the security man was hidden behind his Daily Prophet again. They had walked straight past the golden fountain before Harry remembered.

"Wait . . ." he told Mr. Weasley, and pulling his money bag from his pocket, he turned back to the fountain.

He looked up into the handsome wizard's face, but up close, Harry thought he looked rather weak and foolish. The witch was wearing a vapid smile like a beauty contestant, and from what Harry knew of goblins and centaurs, they were most unlikely to be caught staring this soppily at humans of any description. Only the house - elf's attitude of creeping servility looked convincing. With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf, Harry turned his money bag upside down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool at the statues' feet.

"I KNEW it!" Ron yelled excitedly. You always get away with stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes. "There was no case against you, none at all . . ."

"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I'd get off," said Harry, smiling.

"Harry!" A voice yelled making the trio of friends all turn around to where it came from. Hermione and Ron beamed when they saw who it was.

"Hey Tasmin." Hermione spoke while still smiling, Ron had also greeted the girl. Looking over to Harry she flung into his arms once more, "Congratulations! Oh I knew you could do it!" She smiled. Harry, shocked, hugged her back with a smile even bigger than that of Ron and Hermione's combined if that was even possible.

"Thanks." Harry replied while letting go of the girl. "It was all Dumbledore really though. I just had to sit there."

"Even still. Although, who was your witness? I thought nobody else was there except for you and your cousin." She asked with a confused look on her face.

"Mrs. Figg."

"Who?" Ron had asked, making him jump as he had forgotten they were there while he was talking to Tasmin.

"Mrs. Figg." Harry said again.

"Harry, just repeating her name isn't going to make us know who she is so you might as well explain." said Tasmin.

"She's my neighbour at Privet Drive, has been for a while. I used to stay there when it was Dudley's birthday. And she was there on the night I got attacked by those dementors, she's the one who helped me bring back Dudley."

The three all nodded in slight acknowledgment, despite not knowing who the woman was.

Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went "He got off, he got off, he got off —"

"That's enough, settle down!" shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling. "Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry —"

"What?" said Sirius sharply.

"He got off, he got off, he got off —"

"Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely," said Sirius. "We'll tell him, don't worry."

"Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner —"

"He got off, he got off, he got off —"

"That's enough — Fred — George — Ginny!" said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. "Harry dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast . . ."

Ron and Hermione sat themselves down opposite him while Tasmin sat to the left of him, opposite Hermione, looking happier than they had done since he had first arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Harry's feeling of giddy relief, which had been somewhat dented by his encounter with Lucius Malfoy, swelled again. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise.

"Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you," said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potatoes onto everyone's plates.

"Yeah, he swung it for me," said Harry. He felt that it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say. "I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me."

And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it.

"What's up?" said Hermione, looking alarmed.

"Scar." He merely replied with his hand still firmly placed on his head. "But it's nothing. . . . It happens all the time now . . ." He continued as he saw the concerned look on both Hermione and Ron (and the confused look on Tasmin's, who had of course never heard about his scar problem before until now).
None of the others had noticed a thing; all of them were now helping themselves to food while gloating over Harry's narrow escape; Fred, George, and Ginny were still singing. Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron said happily, "I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening to celebrate with us, you know."

"I don't think he'll be able to, Ron," said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. "He's really very busy at the moment."

"HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF —"

"SHUT UP!" Mrs. Weasley roared. Harry was quite sure he had never seen the kind woman so mad before.

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 next few days, Harry could not help noticing that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that he would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, wringing Harry's hand and beaming just like the rest of them; soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's room with Buckbeak.

"Don't you go feeling guilty!" said Hermione sternly, after Harry had confided some of his feelings to her, Ron and Tasmin while they scrubbed out a mouldy cupboard on the third floor a few days later. "You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish."

"That's a bit harsh, Hermione," said Ron while Tasmin nodded in agreement, frowning as he attempted to prize off a bit of mold that had attached itself firmly to his finger, "you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without company."

"He'll have company!" said Hermione. "It's headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him."

"I don't think that's true," said Harry, wringing out his cloth. "He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could."

"He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more," said Hermione wisely. "And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together."

"Come off it!" said Harry and Ron together, but Hermione merely shrugged.

"Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right, and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry."

"So you think he's touched in the head?" said Harry heatedly.

"You know that's not what she's saying Harry. All Hermione's saying is that he's been very lonely for a long time." Tasmin replied, not wanting her three new friends to argue, especially in the cooped up remains of the cupboard.

At this point Mrs. Weasley entered the bedroom behind them.

"Still not finished?" she said, poking her head into the cupboard.

"I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!" said Ron bitterly. "D'you know how much mould we've got rid of since we arrived here?" Ron asked rhetorically.

"You were so keen to help the Order," said Mrs. Weasley, "you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in."

"I feel like a house - elf," grumbled Ron while scrubbing a particularly stubborn bit of mould.

"Well, now that you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you'll be a bit more active in S.P.E.W.!" said Hermione hopefully, as Mrs. Weasley left them to it again. "You know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time — we could do a sponsored scrub of Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to S.P.E.W., it would raise awareness as well as funds —"

"I'll sponsor you to shut up about S.P.E.W.," Ron muttered irritably, but only so Harry and Tasmin could hear him.

Although it hadn't been as quiet as the boy had hoped as Tasmin quickly rounded on him. "Ron! Don't be such a prat. Personally, I think S.P.E.W. is a wonderful idea. What does S.P.E.W. stand for anyways?"

"Society for the protection of elfish welfare." answered Hermione rather proudly.

"It's all she goes on about." Complained Ron.

That gained Ron a rather harsh glare from said girl as she was scrubbing more mould and a dirty cloth being thrown at his face by Tasmin. Disgusted, Ron immediately took it off his face and threw it, only for it land on Harry's face.

"Oops." Ron laughed.

Also very disgusted, Harry broke out of what ever gaze he was in and took the dirty cloth off of his face and threw it to the ground.

"Sorry mate." Ron apologised.

𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 very last day of the holidays Harry was sweeping up Hedwig's owl droppings from the top of the wardrobe when Tasmin and Ron entered the bedroom carrying a couple of envelopes.

"Booklists have arrived," he said, throwing one of the envelopes up to Harry, who was standing on a chair. "About time, I thought they'd forgotten, they usually come much earlier than this . . ."

Harry swept the last of the droppings into a rubbish bag and threw the bag over Ron's head into the wastepaper basket in the corner, which swallowed it and belched loudly. He then opened his letter: It contained two pieces of parchment, one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September, the other telling him which books he would need for the coming year.

"Only two new ones," he said, reading the list. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard."

Crack!

Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that he didn't even fall off his chair. Although Tasmin jumped slightly, clutching her chest. "I thought I told you two to stop doing that!" She cried.

"You did." said George.

"But we didn't listen." said Fred while a massive grin was plastered on his face.

"Of course not." The girl merely replied with an annoyed look on her face.

"You love us really Barlow." winked George which earned yet another roll of her eyes.

"Is there a reason you came up here or did you just come to annoy us all?" She questioned.

"We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book," said Fred conversationally.

"Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," said George.

"And about time too." said Fred.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, jumping down beside them.

"Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back," Fred told Harry, "and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?" said George.

"One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months," said Harry, counting them off on his fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

Locked in a trunk for nine months? Tasmin was going to ask but didn't even get a chance as Ron had re - entered the room, clutching something rather tightly in his palm, looking pale as ever.

"What's up with you, Ron?" asked Fred.

Ron did not answer. Harry looked around. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.

"What's the matter?" said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment.

Fred's mouth fell open too.

"Prefect?" he said, staring incredulously at the letter. "Prefect?"

George leapt forward, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand, and turned it upside down. Harry saw something scarlet and gold fall into George's palm. It was in fact a prefect's badge.

"No way," said George in a hushed voice.

"There's been a mistake," said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. "No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect . . ."

"Oh leave him alone, bear in mind, I haven't known him for long, but I totally think he has what it takes to be a prefect."

Ron looked up slightly and gave the girl a small smile in thanks. "How come I've never talked to your before?" He asked. The girl in mention only shrugged slightly.

"Ah," said George, ignoring his brother's previous words. "that's because you don't know our Ronniekins well enough."

"Shut up." he grumbled.

Although the two twins just ignored him and continued. Their heads turned in unison and both of them stared at Harry.

"We thought you were a cert!" said Fred in a tone that suggested Harry had tricked them in some way.

"We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!" said George indignantly.

"Winning the Triwizard and everything!" added Fred.

"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him," said George to Fred.

"Yeah," said Fred slowly. "Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right."

He strode over to Harry and clapped him on the back while giving Ron a scathing look.

"Prefect . . . ickle Ronnie the prefect . . ." Fred teased.

"Oh, Mum's going to be revolting," groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him.

Ron, who still had barely said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, and then held it out to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it. A large P was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy's chest on his very first day at Hogwarts.

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand.

"Did you — did you get — ?"

She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek.

"I knew it!" she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."

"It's — what?"

"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry said.

"Ron?" said Hermione, her jaw dropping. "But . . . are you sure? I mean —"

She turned red as Ron looked around at her with a defiant expression on his face.

"It's my name on the letter," he said.

"I . . ." said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. "I . . . well . . . wow! Well done, Ron! That's really —"

"Unexpected," said George, nodding.

"No," said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, "no, it's not . . . Ron's done loads of really . . ." she struggled for a word, but was saved by the door slamming open and Mrs. Weasley coming in with a pile of laundry and put it on one of the (now dust - free) beds.

"Ginny said the booklists had come at last," she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing . . . what color would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," said George, smirking.

"Match his what?" said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile.

"His badge," said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. "His lovely shiny new prefect's badge."

Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley's preoccupation about pajamas.

"His . . . but . . . Ron, you're not . . . ?" Ron held up his badge.

Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione's.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, next - door neighbors?" said George offendedly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son. Tasmin couldn't help but laugh at his comment, earning a glum look from the boy but it brightened somewhat as he got a laugh from the girl.

"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh Ronnie —"

Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs. Weasley did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.

"Mum . . . don't . . . Mum, get a grip . . ." he muttered, trying to push her away.

She let go of him and said breathlessly, "Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course."

"W - what do you mean?" said Ron, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears.

"You've got to have a reward for this!" said Mrs. Weasley fondly. "How about a nice new set of dress robes?" She offered with an all too happy smile present on her face.

"We've already bought him some," said Fred sourly, who looked as though he sincerely regretted this generosity.

"Or a new cauldron, Charlie's old one's rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers —"

"Mum," said Ron hopefully, "can I have a new broom?"

Mrs. Weasley's face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive.

"Not a really good one!" Ron hastened to add. "Just — just a new one for a change . . ."

Mrs. Weasley hesitated, then smiled.

"Of course you can. . . . Well, I'd better get going if I've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later. . . . Little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks. . . . A prefect . . . Oh, I'm all of a dither!"

She gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room.

Fred and George exchanged looks.

"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?" said Fred in a falsely anxious voice.

"We could curtsy, if you like," said George.

"Oh, shut up," said Ron once more while scowling at them.

"Or what?" said Fred, an evil grin spreading across his face. "Going to put us in detention?"

"I'd love to see him try," sniggered George.

"He could if you don't watch out!" said Hermione angrily, at which Fred and George burst out laughing and Ron muttered, "Drop it, Hermione."

"We're going to have to watch our step, George," said Fred, pretending to tremble, "with these two on our case . . ."

"Yeah, it looks like our law - breaking days are finally over," said George, shaking his head.

And with another loud crack, the twins disapparated.

"Those two!" said Hermione furiously, staring up at the ceiling, through which they could now hear Fred and George roaring with laughter in the room upstairs. "Don't pay any attention to them, Ron, they're only jealous!"

"I don't think they are," said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. "They've always said only prats become prefects. . . . Still," he added on a happier note, "they've never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose. . . . She'll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there's the new Cleansweep out, that'd be great. . . . Yeah, I think I'll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows . . ."

He dashed from the room, leaving Harry, Tasmin and Hermione alone.

For some reason, Harry found that he did not want to look at Hermione. He turned to his bed, picked up the pile of clean robes Mrs. Weasley had laid upon it, and crossed the room to his trunk.

"Harry?" Said Hermione tentatively.

"Well done," said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and still not looking at her. "Brilliant. Prefect. Great."

Hermione and Tasmin exchanged sorrowful looks.

"Thanks," said Hermione. "Erm — Harry — could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased — I mean, prefect is something they can understand —"

"— Yeah, no problem," said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. "Take her!"

And with that Hermione fled out the room with Tasmin in tow, giving him one of her infamous smiles. They somehow always made Harry feel better even in the worst of situations.

Harry had stayed in empty bedroom for quite a while now, his mind flitting with the most terrible thoughts. He didn't know why they had suddenly come up, but he couldn't stop them. Things like I'm better at Quidditch, But I'm not better at anything else or But maybe, maybe Dumbledore doesn't choose prefects because they've got themselves into a load of dangerous situations. . . . Maybe he chooses them for other reasons. . . . Ron must have something you don't. . . .

His rapid thoughts only came to a halt when he heard footsteps coming into the bedroom he was still situated in.

It was Ron.

"Just caught her!" Ron said happily. "She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can."

"Cool," Harry said, and he was relieved to hear that his voice had stopped sounding hearty. "Listen — Ron — well done, mate."

The smile faded off Ron's face.

"I never thought it would be me, though it'd be you since everything that's happened and all." Ron admitted sheepishly. 

"Nah, I've caused too much trouble," Harry said, echoing Fred.

"Yeah," said Ron, "yeah, I suppose. . . . Well, we'd better get our trunks packed, hadn't we?"

It was odd how widely their possessions seemed to have scattered themselves since they had arrived. It took them most of the afternoon to retrieve their books and belongings from all over the house and stow them back inside their school trunks. Harry noticed that Ron kept moving his prefect's badge around, first placing it on his bedside table, then putting it into his jeans pocket, then taking it out and laying it on his folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the black. Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and lock it in his trunk.

Mrs. Weasley returned from Diagon Alley around six o'clock, laden with books and carrying a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Ron took from her with a moan of longing.

"Never mind unwrapping it now, people are arriving for dinner, I want you all downstairs." She said, but the moment she was out of sight Ron ripped off the paper in a frenzy and examined every inch of his new broom, an ecstatic expression on his face.

Down in the basement Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read ᴄᴏɴɢʀᴀᴛᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ʀᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ — ɴᴇᴡ ᴘʀᴇᴇꜰᴇᴄᴛs. She looked in a better mood than Harry had seen her all holiday.

"I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit - down dinner," She told Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny and Tasmin as they entered the room. "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled," She added, beaming.

Fred merely rolled his eyes.

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Catherine, Michael and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly after Harry had got himself a butterbeer.

"Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here," said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as Mad - Eye shrugged off his traveling cloak. "We've been wanting to ask you for ages — could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty."

"No problem, Molly . . ."

Moody's electric - blue eye swiveled upward and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen.

"Drawing room . . ." he growled, as the pupil contracted. "Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it. . . . Yeah, it's a boggart. . . . Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?"

"No, no, I'll do it myself later," beamed Mrs. Weasley. "You have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually . . ." She gestured at the scarlet banner. "Fourth prefect in the family!" she said fondly, ruffling Ron's hair.

"Prefect, eh?" growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swiveling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away toward Sirius and Lupin.

"Well, congratulations," said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, "authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you . . ."

Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them too; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody's traveling cloak.

"Well, I think a toast is in order," said Mr. Weasley, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. "To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!" Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them and then applauded.

"I was never a prefect myself," said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved toward the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato - red and waist length today; she looked like Ginny's older sister. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" asked Tasmin.

"Like the ability to behave myself," said Tonks.

Tasmin and Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it earning a hearty pat on the back from Tasmin.

"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny asked, she too thumping Hermione on the back.

Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual barklike laugh.

"No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James and Michael. "Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

"You two knew each other back then?" Harry asked, referring to his godfather and new friend's father.

"Oh, me and him go way back. Further than I care to admit." Michael laughed with a look of reminiscence on his face.

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," continued Lupin. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

Harry's mood suddenly lifted. His father had not been a prefect either. All at once the party seemed much more enjoyable; he loaded up his plate, feeling unusually fond of everyone in the room.

Ron was rhapsodizing about his new broom to anybody who would listen.

". . . naught to seventy in ten seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Two - Ninety's only naught to sixty and that's with a decent tailwind according to Which Broomstick?"

Hermione was talking very earnestly to Lupin about her view of elf rights.

"I mean, it's the same kind of nonsense as werewolf segregation, isn't it? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they're superior to other creatures . . ."

Mrs. Weasley and Bill were having their usual argument about Bill's hair.

". . . getting really out of hand, and you're so good - looking, it would look much better shorter, wouldn't it, Harry?"

"Oh — I dunno —" said Harry, slightly alarmed at being asked his opinion; he then slid away from them silently.

Looking around, everyone was so absorbed in their conversations, they hadn't noticed Harry slink away upstairs. He had seen everybody downstairs except for a particular brunette. Peering through each room Harry noticed they were all as empty as the last. Coming up to the next room, Harry opened the door slightly, only to be alarmed as he saw Buckbeak the hippogriff munching away on what looked to the boy to be dead ferrets. Quickly, he slammed the door shut, not wanting to smell the god awful smell of dead ferrets again. Turning around, he crashed into someone.

"Oh sorry —" He apologised rather hurriedly. He only received a small chuckle in return. Looking up, he saw that it was Tasmin. The words then caught in his throat.

"— No, no I'm the one who should be apologising, I sort of came out of nowhere." She said. Harry noticed she was holding onto a small dark green velvet box. Her other hand holding another box similar to that in size but instead it was red and gold in colour with a striped pattern all over.

"What are those?" He asked, pointing to the two small boxes in her hands (that she somehow didn't drop when they bumped into each other).

Peering down at them, she answered the boy's question. "Oh these? Well they're something I have for Ron and Hermione. You know, as a gift for them for becoming prefects and everything. I don't really know them that well so I kind of just guessed as to what they would want." She admitted sheepishly.

"Can I see?" Harry asked.

"Sure. Just be honest okay? You've known them for much longer than I have." she replied rather apprehensively. Opening the dark velvet green box, Harry noticed inside were a pair of small earrings with a red gem attached to the end. Harry assumed that these must obviously be Hermione's. They were rather nice Harry had to admit. At the look on his face, Tasmin immediately snapped the box lid shut.

"You don't think she'll like it do you? Do you think I should done something different? Change the colour maybe? Or scratch it completely?" She asked, each question coming out as a flurry of words. Harry only laughed slightly and put his hand on the girl's shoulder to get her attention.

"I'm sure she'll love them." Harry reassured.

"You think?"

"Absolutely. I mean I think they're really nice. If I was a girl I would —" Harry stopped himself as he realised what he was saying.

"— You would wear them?" she asked. Harry stayed silent, finding the laces of his shoes rather interesting all of a sudden. "I think you'd look great in them Harry." she joked. "Very pretty."

Harry found his face had become rather warm, he was sure his face had a slight red tinge of embarrassment on it.

"No — I didn't mean that I —"

"— Relax Harry, I know what you meant." Now she was the one with a hand on his shoulder.

"Anyway," she continued. "Do you want to see what I made for Ron?"

"Made?" He asked.

"Yeah of course. I made them, don't ask how exactly but all you need to know is that my mum taught me how."

Harry didn't think he could ever be surprised by the girl currently in front of him after she had made him feel better before his hearing at the ministry. But here she was, doing just that.

"But no," he said, gaining his voice back. "whatever you made Ron, I'm sure he'll love it because it's something that hasn't been passed down the family. It's new and hand - made."

Tasmin beamed at that statement. Once more, she wrapped her arms around him and give him a hug, Harry hugging the girl back. They only broke apart when they heard slight shuffles of feet and quietened whispers of 'be quiet' and 'they'll hear you'.

Looking in front of her towards the stairs, Tasmin saw her parents. With them was Sirius and Lupin. At the look on her face, Harry too, turned around, shocked to see the adults standing there. Just how long have they been standing there he thought.

They all stood up once they had noticed they had been caught. At the two teenagers confused glances, Lupin decided to talk first being the most reasonable of the group. "Uhm, I was nothing but an accomplice. Sorry Pads you're on your own." And with that, the man hurried down the stairs.

"Bloody coward." Sirius muttered under his breath, thinking nobody could hear him.

Noticing all the attention was now on them, the three adults attempted to explain themselves.

"We noticed you both weren't downstairs so we went to come find you." Sirius explained.

"By spying on us?" Tasmin questioned.

"Spying isn't the correct terminology I would use." He said, but seeing the glares he got from his two friends, he continued, "But if that's what you want to call it then yes, I guess we were technically spying on you two."

"Right, okay then." Tasmin said with a look on her face that said she didn't believe the man one bit. With that, she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him with her down the stairs and back down to the party.

"Five galleons they'll be together by the end of this year?" Sirius asked his friend.

"Make that ten Black." The man replied.

Catherine only shook her head in disbelief at the two men. "Childish." she muttered.

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