The news of Ron's appointment as prefect filled Mrs. Weasley with immense pride. When Moody arrived later to discuss intelligence, she eagerly introduced her son to him, beaming with maternal affection.
"The fourth prefect in the family!" she said fondly, ruffling Ron's hair.
"Prefect, eh?" Moody's gravelly voice rumbled. His normal eye fixed on Ron, while his magical one spun with a faint whir, glancing toward the staircase.
"Congratulations, lad," Moody continued. "Authority figures tend to attract trouble, as you'll soon find out. But I reckon Dumbledore thinks you can handle most serious hexes, or he wouldn't have chosen you."
Moody's blunt words caught Ron off guard, but Mr. Weasley's timely arrival spared him from an awkward response.
After noon, Mrs. Weasley and Sirius Black Apparated to Diagon Alley to purchase supplies for the upcoming school year. Meanwhile, Harry and the others were tasked with packing their belongings. What would have taken most of the afternoon for everyone except Harry and Hermione was completed at lightning speed, thanks to Dobby and Kreacher's enthusiastic assistance.
By six o'clock, Mrs. Weasley and Sirius returned to 12 Grimmauld Place, laden with books and school supplies. To celebrate Ron and Hermione's new roles as prefects, Mrs. Weasley not only gifted Ron a brand-new broom but also organized a small celebratory feast at dinner.
Once everyone had a drink in hand, Sirius raised his goblet. "To Hermione and Ron, Gryffindor's newest prefects!"
The room erupted in cheers and applause. Ron's face glowed with pride, and Hermione offered a warm smile, though Harry noticed a faint trace of melancholy in her eyes.
He gently took her left hand, and she squeezed his in return, her grip firm and reassuring.
At the feast, Tonks watched with amusement as Lupin and Sirius reminisced about their own school days. Ron, meanwhile, was busy showing off his new broom to anyone who would listen.
"Zero to seventy in ten seconds—not bad, right? According to Which Broomstick, the Comet 290 only hits sixty, and that's with a tailwind!" he boasted.
The celebration stretched late into the night, leaving everyone except Harry and Hermione oversleeping the next morning.
The morning was a cacophony of noise in the entrance hall. By the time everyone piled into Sirius's magically expanded car, they had less than forty minutes before the train's departure.
After bidding farewell to Sirius and the others, Harry and his friends boarded the Hogwarts Express. Just as Hermione was about to follow Harry in search of an empty compartment, Ron grabbed her arm—though she quickly shook him off.
"Hermione, I think we should head to the prefects' carriage first," Ron said, glancing at Harry. "You know, the letter said prefects need to meet there and patrol the corridors from time to time…"
Ron shrugged, a touch of reluctance in his voice. "Honestly, I'm not thrilled about it. I'm no Percy."
His attempt at humor fell flat. Neither Harry nor Hermione laughed.
"Even if we're going to the prefects' carriage, that doesn't mean we can't stow our luggage first," Hermione said, shooting Ron a pointed look. She took Harry's hand, levitating their trunks with her other, and continued searching for a compartment.
"Wait, I'll come too!" Ron called, hurrying after them.
They finally found a compartment that was as close to empty as they'd get.
"Luna, how was your summer?" Harry asked, taking Hermione's trunk and hoisting it onto the luggage rack.
"Oh, yes," Luna said, looking up from an upside-down magazine. Her voice was dreamy as ever. "Quite pleasant, really."
As Hermione and Ron headed to the prefects' carriage, Harry's attention drifted to the magazine in Luna's hands.
"Luna, mind if I take a look at that?" he asked.
"Not at all," she replied, handing him the upside-down copy of The Quibbler with an air of nonchalance.
Harry read it with surprising focus. While much of the content was, frankly, absurd, it was undeniably entertaining and true to its name. Articles ranged from a piece claiming Fudge was a goblin-slaying mastermind, to one accusing the Tutshill Tornados of winning the Quidditch League Cup through coercion, illegal broom tampering, and torturing opponents. Another story featured a wizard who claimed to have flown a Cleansweep Six to the moon and returned with a sack of lunar frogs as proof. There was even an article about ancient runes found in some ruins, which, if inverted, supposedly formed a spell to turn your enemy's ears into kumquats. Harry, with his knowledge of Ancient Runes, recognized it as nothing more than a tailor's shop advertisement, not unlike those in The Daily Prophet.
After skimming a final piece alleging Rita Skeeter's death by supernatural causes, Harry handed the magazine back to Luna.
"Pretty interesting read," he said.
Luna let out a small, nasal hum. "Of course it is. My father's the editor," she said, swaying proudly.
Ron and Hermione returned about an hour later, after the food trolley had passed. Anticipating their hunger, Harry had bought a pile of snacks. As he unwrapped a Chocolate Frog, the compartment door slid open, and Ron strode in.
"I'm starving," he declared, snatching the wriggling frog from Harry's hand and plopping down beside him. He bit off the frog's head in one go, then leaned back, eyes closed, looking thoroughly exhausted.
Hermione, entering a step behind, shot Ron a disapproving glance before sitting next to Luna. She accepted a pumpkin pasty from Harry and began nibbling delicately.
After devouring the Chocolate Frog, Ron seemed to regain some energy. He launched into an animated discussion about his plans as a prefect, gesturing wildly as he spoke to Hermione.
"We should patrol the corridors now and then," he said. "If anyone's up to no good, we can punish them. I'd love to catch Crabbe or Goyle in the act…"
"I'll make Goyle write lines," Ron continued, grinning. "That'll kill him—he hates writing." He lowered his voice, mimicking Goyle's gruff tone and contorting his face as if in agony, pretending to scribble in the air. "'I… must… not… act… like… a… baboon's… backside…'"
Luna burst into a shrill, piercing laugh. Harry, mid-sip, stifled a chuckle, mindful of Luna across from him. Hermione, however, was not amused.
"Ron, you shouldn't mock people behind their backs!" she snapped.
"Oh, right, because Malfoy never mocks anyone," Ron shot back sarcastically.
"Are you saying Malfoy's a good role model?" Hermione's expression darkened.
"No, I'm just saying I'll give his mates a taste of their own medicine before he goes after my friends," Ron replied, meeting her gaze.
"Well, I won't let you abuse your authority!" Hermione retorted, glaring at him before turning to Harry. "Harry doesn't mock people behind their backs or misuse his power."
Ron shook his head dismissively. "You only see him during the day, Hermione. You're not me—you've no idea what Harry's like when he's asleep."
"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," Hermione said, smiling softly at Harry.
Harry met her gaze, a matching smile tugging at his lips.
Ron glanced between them, then abruptly tossed aside his half-eaten Chocolate Frog and stood, his tone firm. "Alright, Hermione, time to patrol."
The train rattled north, the weather shifting unpredictably—rain pattered intermittently against the windows, followed by brief glimpses of a lazy sun, only for clouds to roll in and obscure it again.
Ron, under the guise of patrolling, dragged Hermione out several times. Finally, when he called her to patrol again, she swatted his hand away. As he reached the compartment door, she stood, using the excuse of retrieving Crookshanks from the luggage rack to swiftly slide into the seat beside Harry.
"I'm tired! If you want to patrol, go by yourself!" she said sharply.
Seeing her refusal, Ron said nothing, only slumping grumpily into the seat next to Luna.
As night fell, the compartment's lamps flickered on. Luna rolled up her copy of The Quibbler and tucked it carefully into her bag, then turned to stare intently at everyone in the compartment.
"We should change," Hermione reminded them.
Harry grabbed his school robes, stepped out of the compartment, and slid the door shut. Ron, oblivious, remained seated, munching on snacks.
"I said, we need to change!" Hermione repeated, arms crossed, glaring at him.
"Go ahead and change. Why're you looking at me?" Ron said, eyeing her up and down.
As Hermione's frustration mounted, Luna turned to Ron, her usual dreamy tone replaced with a rare firmness. "Ronald, you're a boy."
Ron opened his mouth to protest but, under Luna's steady gaze, grabbed his robes and slunk out of the compartment.
Hermione and Luna changed quickly, and Harry, permitted to return, slid the door open, with Ron trailing behind. Ron's prefect badge gleamed under the lamplight, mirroring the flush on his face.
Then he noticed Hermione's chest was bare of her badge.
"Hermione, where's your prefect badge?" he asked, pointing.
Hermione stepped aside, giving him a withering look. "I don't recall any school rule saying prefects must wear their badges at all times."
The train slowed, and the corridor filled with the chaotic sounds of students gathering luggage and pets. Ron and Hermione left to maintain order, leaving Harry and Luna to watch over Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon.
"May I carry the owl?" Luna asked, taking Pigwidgeon's cage from Harry.
Harry, with Crookshanks perched on one shoulder, Hedwig on the other, and dragging his, Ron's, and Hermione's trunks, followed Luna into the crowded corridor.
Expecting Hagrid's familiar bellow, Harry was surprised to hear a somewhat familiar female voice calling, "First years, line up here! All first years, follow me!"
A lantern bobbed toward him, and in its glow, he recognized Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had briefly substituted for Hagrid in Care of Magical Creatures the previous year.
Hagrid's absence puzzled many students, but their curiosity was quickly overshadowed by anticipation for the feast.
Harry, Luna, and the newly returned Ron and Hermione climbed into a carriage.
Luna seemed pleased by Grubbly-Plank's return. "He wasn't a very good teacher, was he? Most Ravenclaws thought he was a bit careless."
"No, he's a great teacher!" Ron said indignantly.
Harry, sitting quietly beside Hermione, caught Ron's glance. He shrugged. "I'm fond of Hagrid, but honestly, he's got a lot to learn as a professor. At the very least, Grubbly-Plank's better at keeping students safe."
Ron shot him a look of betrayal.
After a bumpy ride, they reached the Great Hall.
Harry's eyes scanned the staff table. To his disappointment, Hagrid was nowhere to be seen. But, to his surprise, seated beside Dumbledore was a familiar, unwelcome face.
What was her name? Harry scratched his head, trying to recall. All he could remember was that she was a Ministry official—and nothing else.
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