Harry screwed up his face and buried it in his hands

. He could not lie to himself; if he had known the prefect badge was on its way, he would have expected it to come to him, not Ron. Did this make him as arrogant as Draco

Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?

No, said the small voice defiantly.

Was that true? Harry wondered, anxiously probing his own feelings.

I'm better at Quidditch, said the voice. But I'm not better at anything else.

That was definitely true, Harry thought; he was no better than Ron in lessons. But what about outside lessons? What about those adventures he, Ron, and Hermione had had together since starting at Hogwarts, often risking

much worse than expulsion?

Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time, said the voice in Harry's head.

Not all the time, though, Harry argued with himself. They didn't fight Quirrell with me. They didn't take on Riddle and the Basilisk. They didn't get rid of all those dementors the night Sirius escaped. They weren't in that

graveyard with me, the night Voldemort returned....

And the same feeling of ill-usage that had overwhelmed him on the night he had arrived rose again. I've definitely done more, Harry thought indignantly. I've done more than either of them!

But maybe, said the small voice fairly, 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....

Harry opened his eyes and stared through his fingers at the wardrobe's clawed feet, remembering what Fred had said.

‘No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect....’

Harry gave a small snort of laughter. A second later he felt sickened with himself.

Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the prefect badge. This was not Ron's fault. Was he, Harry, Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back,

ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something?

At this point Harry heard Ron's footsteps on the stairs again. He stood up, straightened his glasses, and hitched a grin on to his face as Ron bounded back through the door.

‘Just caught her!’ he 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!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I thought it would be you!’

‘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. Marry 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 lying 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 CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE—NEW PREFECTS. 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, and Ginny 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 rolled his eyes.

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, 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 travelling 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 swivelled upwards 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 swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away towards 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; 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 travelling 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 towards 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?’ said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato.

‘Like the ability to behave myself,’ said Tonks.

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.

‘What about you, Sirius?’ Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back.

Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual bark-like laugh.

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

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