The day that the book lists arrived, I was ecstatic. Between dodging Hermione's pushy requests to join S.P.E.W. (or perhaps just being whisked away by Fred or George whenever the topic came up), cleaning the mansion ("You were so keen to help the Order, you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in," Mrs. Weasley had told us one day), avoiding Sirius' foul mood, and hearing about all of the adventures that Matthew was having, going back to Hogwarts felt like a dream coming true.
After reading Moste Potente Potions and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7, I heard a loud shriek from upstairs. The twins were up there, so I was willing to bet anything that they had done something, but I dashed up the stairs at the same speed as if there was a Death Eater up there. I'm really bored; anything that could be exciting is a reason to dash like there's a Death Eater around. I saw Hermione standing just inside Harry and Ron's room, looking unscathed and not particularly scared or annoyed, and I let my shoulders slump in disappointment, but still went to the room, resting against the doorframe to see what the commotion was about.
"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry told Hermione. My eyebrows shot up in an instant. I didn't think that any of the trio would've been appointed to prefect; they'd been breaking rules since their first day at Hogwarts. Not that I'm judging; I've broken more than all of them combined. Usually for Fred and George, but I've become a bit more reckless than I was in my first year.
Apparently, Hermione had just as hard of a time believing that Ron was prefect. "Ron? But . . . are you sure? I mean – " I winced at that one. Sure, I thought along the same lines, but I knew to keep my mouth shut and watch what happened.
"It's my name on the letter," Ron replied, much calmer than I had assumed he would be.
"I . . . I . . . well . . . wow! Well done, Ron! That's really – "
"Unexpected," George added. I bit my lip from smiling. He was right, though; I figured Harry had more of a chance to make prefect than Ron, being Dumbledore's favourite student ever and all that.
I heard Mrs. Weasley shuffling behind me, and turned around to see her with a laundry basket, coming down the hallway towards us. I moved farther into the room to allow her in, and missed some comment made by Hermione in the process, but I saw her blushing red as a lobster when I turned back.
"Ginny said booklists had come at last," Mrs. Weasley said. "If you give them to me I'll take them to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more – "
I left the room before she finished her sentence, going to the twins' room to search for their booklists to give to Mrs. Weasley. The twins were many things, but responsible was not one of them, so I assumed that it would be easier for me to just hand over their booklists for them. But just after I had jammed Fred's list into my pocket, I heard another shriek. It wasn't worth checking out; the twins wouldn't pull something in front of their mother, so it was probably something boring.
When I met Mrs. Weasley in the hallway to give her all three booklists, she looked especially flushed and happy. And a little nervous.
"Oh, thank you for these, sweetie," she said as I presented all three lists. "Do you have much packing to do?"
I had already packed my trunks a week before, and repacked three times since then in a vain attempt to amuse myself. "Not much more," I told her, deciding it might be a bit insulting to tell her how excited I was to get out of the boring house.
She smiled. "Could I possibly ask you to help out with the party tonight? Ron and Hermione were both made prefects, and I think that's cause for celebration, don't you?" I nodded my head, though I couldn't really care less about who was made prefect or not. Maybe she just thought it was cause for celebration that Dumbledore had forgotten about all of the rule-breaking that the two had done throughout the years. "Thank you so much, sweetie. I need to have the place decorated and I just don't have time. Maybe you could get Fred and George to help, too? But don't let Hermione and Ron help; they shouldn't be helping with their own party. I'd do it myself, but I've just got so much to do, what with – "
Begin zoning out. I nodded at what seemed like the right times, letting my mind wander to Hogwarts and all of the non-cleaning fun I would have. It would even be exciting to watch the Quidditch team practice compared to this place. Maybe the twins would quit it this year, so I can stop going to games fina—
"Emily?"
That's the downfall of zoning out – sometimes people expect you to listen to them and engage.
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I guess I'm still waking up a bit," I lied. "What were you saying?"
She smiled at me gently. "Will you be needing more robes, dear? When Bill hit your age, he was growing faster than we could robe him, but Fred and George haven't needed new robes in almost two years."
"Oh, no thank you, Mrs. Weasley," I replied. "I come from the same stock as the twins; haven't grown much taller in a long time."
"All right, dear. I'll be leaving in a few minutes; if you think of anything else you need, just come and find me." She gave me a kiss on the forehead, then went off, presumably to grab some Galleons before leaving for Diagon Alley. I had given her some when I first arrived to pay for the few books I'd need, since most of mine were second-hand - their previous owner being Matthew.
I wandered back upstairs again to find Fred and George to draft them to help me decorate. I figured that if anyone could make a room look absurdly gaudy and festive, it was them.
