Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I'm honest, I'm not sure I'd even want the responsibility.
It was the first Monday of November in Ron Weasley's sixth year at Hogwarts School for witchcraft and wizardry and he was, as usual, sitting at breakfast with his two best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Hermione was nattering on about homework and exams and study timetables but Ron was doing his best to ignore her, making faces across the table at his little sister instead, but only when he was sure Hermione wasn't looking.
Ginny had turned bright red in an effort to hold in her laughter and Neville, sitting next to her, was almost choking. Hermione shot them an annoyed glare, and Ron pasted an innocent look on his face, only serving to make the situation worse. Which was, of course, his intention. Harry, on the other side of Hermione, was clueless too and Ginny caught the brief hurt cross his face at the mere thought of being left out. He really had to get over that, she thought. The world did not exist merely to revolve around him- wasn't Ron entitled to do something that didn't involve the Boy-Who-Lived? Her brief annoyance at Harry dissipated though, as Ron made a particularly rude gesture in her direction and she couldn't hold it any longer- gasping, she burst into a booming laugh, dragging Neville with her as she fell backwards off the bench. Ron burst into laughter then, too, narrowly avoiding his sister's fate and catching himself just before he fell. A few moments of hysterical laughter later and one huff of disinterest from Hermione, Ginny finally clambered up, fixing her robes and offering Neville her hand. Laughing, he stood up too and blushed as red as any Weasley when he realised that half of the school was watching him- including many of the teachers. It may have been his embarrassment, or his imagination, but was Professor Snape smiling? Spooky. Neville sat down, carefully avoiding eye contact with Ron and Ginny in case they would set him off again- his chest hurt from laughing and he had a stitch in his side. That's what hanging around with Weasley's gets you, he reflected, remembering his grandmother's warning from his first year. Mrs. Longbottom may hold a soft spot for the Weasley clan, but that didn't mean she wasn't well aware of what they were actually like. Ron was chuckling under his breath, barely containing his own laughter- not made any easier by Ginny's attempts to kick him under the table. He was set off again when one, particularly nasty, kick missed him and hit the table leg.
"Bollocks! Ow, ow, bloody ow!" It wasn't too long before Neville, and even Ginny, joined in again- earning more disapproving stares from Hermione. Sometimes, she was really far too grown-up for her own good.
It was into this air of jollity- the Weasley laughter having lightened the mood of all the houses, not just Gryffindor- that a stranger entered, picking a careful path through the house tables and the milling students toward the staff table. The man was tall, wearing dark robes and holding his head high. He was pale, with deep brown hair falling to his shoulders, and a slightly sneering expression.
All eyes followed him, curious, and Ron wasn't the only one who noticed that the headmaster and several of the teachers paled considerably. Dumbledore stood, moving to the front of the dais where McGonagall joined him, and their guest. They conversed in low tones and silence fell over the students as they tried, in vain, to hear what was being said. Dumbledore frowned several times and McGonagall looked… well, the best word Ginny could think of was sad. She met her brother's gaze briefly, raising an eyebrow in question, but he could only shake his head. He hadn't got a clue either.
For several minutes, the school was engrossed with the arrival of a stranger, but inevitably, attention waned and speculative whispers began making the rounds. And then Dumbledore led the new arrival away and even the speculation ceased. Quidditch and gossip were far more interesting than a stranger at breakfast. At least until someone had a clue as to who the stranger was.
The rest of the day passed by, uneventful. Neville, surprisingly good at potions without professor Snape looming over him, managed a O on his homework and had shown it to everyone in Gryffindor house before dinner. Hermione re-commenced her badgering about studying but both Harry and Ron ignored her this time, concentrating instead on a serious game of chess. Well, as serious as a game of chess can be when the result is a foregone conclusion. The Trio walked to the great hall with Neville, Ginny and Luna (who appeared outside the Gryffindor common room as they left) for dinner. Harry fell into step with Hermione, and Ginny with Neville. Ron, for once perhaps showing more maturity than anyone knew he had, walked with Luna, telling jokes and listening to her talk excitedly about the latest edition of the Quibbler- it had an exclusive interview with a witch who claimed she was possessed by her teapot, apparently.
Luna drifted off to the Ravenclaw table where, Ron noticed, she sat alone at the end of the table reading a book she'd pulled out from inside her robes somewhere. He couldn't help but feel a little bit sorry for her, then. However annoying his own friends could be, at least they were there. At least they existed.
The Gryffindors sat in their usual spots in the middle of the table, and Ron tuned into Harry and Hermione's conversation. Surprisingly, they were talking about homework. At least, Hermione was talking about homework and Harry was trying to get her to at least pretend to relax. Rolling his eyes, Ron reached for the jug of Pumpkin juice, pouring a goblet for himself before gesturing with the jug in Ginny's direction. Sitting opposite him, she pushed her goblet in his direction and grinned. Sometimes, having a big brother who had been well trained by their mother was an asset. At least with this particular brother, she wouldn't have to worry that the juice would turn her purple. Ron poured for Neville too, choosing to leave Hermione and Harry to their own devices as he tuned out of their conversation.
He couldn't help but be grateful that it was Harry on the receiving end this time- he got more than enough of that from his mother, he didn't need to listen to it from his best friends too. Even if Hermione does look gorgeous when she's giving out, he thought. Internally, Ron groaned. Hermione, being a sensible girl, wouldn't look at him twice, so he really needed to stop thinking about her as anything more than his friend.
Dinner passed in a haze of laughter and stories- Dean was trying his best to explain football to Ginny, and by extension Ron and Neville, and didn't seem to be getting very far. Ron wondered if it was mean to not just tell Dean that he understood the game well enough after sharing a room with the other boy for five years. Neville, catching Ron's eye, grinned. He'd obviously had the same thought, but found it far to amusing to see Dean struggle to offer him any help. Harry had fallen silent, and Hermione appeared to be sulking a little. Ron was sure he'd hear both sides of the story several times before bed.
"So let me get this straight" Ginny's voice held just the tiniest tinge of amusement, but Ron didn't think Dean had caught it. "You have two teams of eleven, right? And the game goes on for ninety minutes, and there might not be a score?" Dean nodded, pleased that she understood. "What a pile of bollocks! Where's the fun in that?!" She looked outraged, but her voice carried laughter with it. Dean tried, admirably, to redeem his favourite game in her eyes, but Ginny was having none of it. For several minutes, she cut off every sentence with a cutting remark or an eye-roll. All the time though, she was very careful to not be too harsh, Ron noticed. She must really like him, he realised, if she's going this easy on him. As engrossed as he was in their exchange, he didn't notice at first when Dumbledore stood to speak. The Headmaster cleared his throat loudly and the hall fell silent, all eyes turning to him. Even the Slytherin table was quiet. After dinner speeches were unusual enough to gain everyone's full attention.
"Thank you everyone. As I'm sure you all noticed, an unexpected but nonetheless welcome guest arrived this morning. Our visitor is none other than Mr. Lethe Basingstoke of the International Federation of Wizards. The Federation, as I am sure you know, have always held an advisory position to Hogwart's and Mr. Basingstoke is here in that capacity. He has asked for a few moments of your time this evening, and I hope that you will treat him with the respect you show to me and to your professors. Thank you." Dumbledore was barely seated when the man from that morning- Mr. Basingstoke- moved from his place in the shadows to the side of the Head's table and smiled.
"Thank you, Headmaster. Good evening everyone. I will not hold you long, I promise." He smiled again, showing teeth- perfect and white- this time. "All I ask is that, in accordance with the Concord of 1514, which grants the IWF a special role within this school, the Alumno Purus Plurimus representative of each house please stand up." Before his eyes, a little less than half of the students frowned, and looked at each other. At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy grinned and stood up.
"Draconis Orion Black-Malfoy representing Slytherin, sir." Around him, the Slytherins grinned, wolf-like.
The Hufflepuff table had descended into quiet conversation, with glances shooting across the table from person to person until eventually, a fifth year girl stood.
"Ursula Marianne Bones-Cadwallader representing Hufflepuff, sir." Her voice shook just a little and around her, her fellow Hufflepuffs were split between those who looked apprehensive and those who looked confused.
The Ravenclaw table were in the midst of a heated debate when all eyes turned to them. After a few moments of argument and several drawn wands, Simon Fawcett, a tall dark-haired seventh year, stood up.
"Simon Marcus Manderlay-Fawcett, representing Ravenclaw, sir." His voice was more sure than Ursula's, but he caught was sent several nasty glares from his housemates. To his credit, he met each gaze steadily until the offending parties looked away. Only Luna, of all the Ravenclaws, wasn't paying any attention at all. The rest were, similarly to the Hufflepuffs, split between confusion and curiosity.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron and Ginny Weasley paled considerably. Ginny chanted "Oh sweet Merlin" under her breath until her brother kicked her under the table. About half of Gryffindor house was watching them- her, Ron and Neville, she noticed, and she blushed suddenly.
"Ron- we can't do this! Mum'll kill us! Dad'll kill us- we'll have to go live with Percy we'll be so disowned." She ignored Hermione, Harry and Dean's questions.
"What's going on?"
"What does that mean?"
"What in Merlin's name is happening?"
Neville, beside her, was almost shaking.
Glancing at Neville, Ron gulped.
"Well Gin, it's one of us or Neville and he looks like he's about to faint. You alright, mate?" Neville made a small choking sound before he spoke,
"I'm okay, I suppose. I just never thought… I'll do it, if you want. I don't think it's my place, but if your parents will be that mad, then I will…" He looked like nothing in the world interested him less, but his resolve was clear beneath the fear.
"Nah, mate. That's okay. We'll take care of it." Neville visibly relaxed, tension leaving his shoulders, even as the Weasley siblings stiffened. Ron was faintly aware of Malfoy declaring for Slytherin and he met his sister's gaze.
"You'll have to renounce, okay? We're too close otherwise." She gulped, and nodded. Hufflepuff declared, two tables over.
"Are you sure Ron? There must be somebody else who can…?" She left the question hanging, just as Ravenclaw declared.
Harry, who hadn't been listening to his friends but who'd been watching the rest of the Gryffindors instead, sighed. They were all looking at him, as usual.
"I'll do it, whatever it is." He made to stand up when, beside him, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil pulled him down, Lavender digging her sharp nails into his arm.
"Don't move Potter" Lavender hissed "Whatever you do, do not stand up and do not speak!" Harry looked shocked and made a move again.
"Somebody has to stand and I don't see anyone else volunteer, do you?" He sounded disdainful, and couldn't have been more surprised when Ron grabbed him from the other side- almost knocking Hermione to the floor in his effort.
"Harry mate, this is really not the time to play the hero. This isn't your business, so stay in your seat." Harry opened his mouth to voice an angry retort when Ginny stood and said calmly,
"I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, do hereby cede my right of claim unto my elder brother." And she sat, almost collapsing into her seat. Neville held her up as she looked up to Ron and wished him luck silently.
"Ronald Bilius Prewett-Weasley, representing Gryffindor." The sir was noticeable in its absence.
In front of the dais, Mr. Basingstoke smiled grimly and clasped his hands together in a gesture reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge.
"Excellent. I would ask that the four of you accompany me now as the representatives of your houses." And he strode toward the door, not looking back to see if the chosen few were following him. Ron grinned at his sister, more to reassure himself than her, and walked after him.