Chapter Ninety-Seven - The Prefects and the Boggart

If Sirius had remained at St. Mungo's, Harry would have demanded to visit him every day until he was forced to return to Hogwarts. Fortunately, the healers declared him well enough to return home after a night of observation. Harry kept a vigilant eye on his godfather, spending nearly every spare moment by his side. He caught Sirius wincing every now and then, his hand moving to his chest, just over his heart. Sirius never mentioned it, so Harry maintained his silence, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Sirius was massaging the very place where the locket had laid against his skin. Harry told himself that he was reading too much into it. That Sirius, like himself, merely had a new scar he was getting used to. Other than this occasional gesture, Sirius seemed healthy, even cheerful, and Harry began to look forward to his return to Hogwarts with fewer misgivings.

The same could not be said for Draco. Harry overheard Mrs. Malfoy speaking to Mrs. Zabini shortly before their scheduled departure.

"Are you sure it's safe?" asked Draco's mother.

"Hogwarts is the safest place for them right now," Mrs. Zabini replied, "Even safer than here. Dumbledore will keep an eye on things."

"Dumbledore," repeated Mrs. Malfoy in a derisive tone, "Lucius is on the board of governors! What if he goes there? He could try to withdraw Draco from school!"

"Albus won't let that happen," Mrs. Zabini assured her friend, "You know I haven't always agreed with his methods, but say what you will, Albus Dumbledore is a formidable wizard."

After a summer of eavesdropping, Harry felt no moral qualms while listening in on this conversation. In fact, he was very curious to hear Mrs. Zabini's thoughts regarding Dumbledore. But before more could be said on the matter, Ron's father walked through the door and announced, "I've got some news! I've just come from the ministry, and I saw Lucius Malfoy speaking to Fudge again!"

There was a beat of awkward silence as Mr. Weasley observed the two women seated before him. In the embarrassment that followed, he hadn't noticed Harry lurking around the corner.

"Oh my… I'm terribly sorry!" Mr. Weasley gasped, "I thought you were my… Don't know what I was…"

"It's alright, Arthur," said Mrs. Malfoy. Harry heard the soft rustling of her robes as she rose from her seat. He drew further back, afraid of her running directly against him as she exited the room. But Mrs. Zabini called her back, knowing she'd failed to convince her friend of Draco's comparative safety at Hogwarts.

But Mrs. Malfoy would not be detained for long. "I'm not a member of the Order, Edana," she reminded her friend, "You have taken me in for my protection, and I'm grateful. But I know I cannot expect more. If, however, there was some way I could be of use…"

"Actually," Mr. Weasley interrupted, stepping further into the room and lowering his voice, "We have been wondering… Could Fudge be influenced… Could he be under You-Know-Who's control?"

"What Arthur means to say," clarified Mrs. Zabini, "Is that Fudge may have been placed under the Imperius Curse. He's had many private meetings with known Death Eaters of late."

"Including my husband, I suppose?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, her voice tight with emotion.

Harry was listening intently. Mr. Weasley had taken the precaution of closing the door behind him, but he'd forgotten to charm it. Not a word was lost as Harry slipped the end of an extendable ear under the door. Mrs. Malfoy's next words sounded tired, even a little repugnant, as she continued, "There would be no need to place the Minister of Magic under the Imperius Curse. If he managed to break through it, the entire group would risk exposure. No… Fudge is blinded by his mistrust of Dumbledore. He's easy enough to manipulate without a curse."

Mr. Weasley thanked Mrs. Malfoy for this insight into the inner workings of the Death Eaters. Apologizing again for his prior carelessness, he then asked for privacy. There were matters that the inducted members of the Order wished to discuss alone. As Mrs. Malfoy prepared to make her exit, Harry quickly retracted the extendable ear and escaped to the upper floors of Grimmauld Place.

A surprise awaited him when he arrived upstairs. Their school lists had arrived. Harry and Blaise went over their lists together, noting a new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook among the usual supplies. As they mused over who the new professor would be, their thoughts inevitably lead to their last teacher, Professor Moody.

The pair was uncharacteristically somber when Millie walked into Harry's room. The frown on her face matched the boys' melancholy mood, but she hadn't come to talk about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Thrusting her palm under Harry's nose, she demanded, "Is this what I think it is?"

Harry glanced down. She was holding a badge with a silver P emblazoned in proud, bold font. While Harry looked on in confusion, wondering what the P stood for, Blaise jumped up and exclaimed, "A prefect! They made you a prefect?"

Harry had completely forgotten that prefects were chosen in their fifth year. When he finally made the connection between the badge and the role, he felt very pleased for his friend. Blaise, on the other hand, was incredibly jealous. While Harry offered his congratulations, Blaise continued to exclaim, "A prefect! And they want you! How could they pick you and not me?!"

Millie didn't take offense to Blaise's ill-natured outburst. The frown on her face revealed that she wasn't sure how to feel about the news.

"Don't mind Blaise," Harry told her, thinking that his incredulity was causing Millie to doubt herself, "You're the obvious choice. You became an animagus when we were only in third year! And your marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts have always been the highest, not to mention all the times you've gotten Blaise and I out of trouble…"

"Then why haven't you got one?" Millie asked, "You were always right there with me, Harry."

"What about me?" Blaise wailed angrily, interrupting before Harry could come up with an answer.

Suddenly, they heard shouts and laughter from the direction of what they had started to call "The Gryffindor Room." Exchanging a quick glance, they all hurried into the hall to see the cause of the commotion, certain that the other party had also received their letters, and that another prefect badge had just been revealed.

It was more than any of them had anticipated. Ron and Draco were both holding shining new badges, both staring at them blankly. It was Ron's brothers who were causing the racket, teasing Ron for being "a prat like Percy."

"Mum will be so happy!" said the one who was most likely Fred.

"Oh no, let's not tell her," suggested the second, who was almost certainly George, "It was dreadful when Percy got his. I don't think I can stand another prefect in the family!"

While they continued to berate Ron, who didn't seem to be paying them any mind, Draco glanced up and mutely offered his badge to Harry.

"Professor Lupin gave me your letter by mistake," he said.

Harry held up his own letter, still clutched in his hand, "I've got mine right here."

Draco continued to look perplexed, until Blaise said in a mollified tone, "Oh, now it makes sense. You've always been a teacher's pet. Snape nominated you, I suppose."

Draco didn't seem nearly as convinced by this line of reasoning as Blaise. His eyes still on Harry, he said candidly, "I thought you were his favorite."

Harry didn't know whether to burst into laughter or faint on the spot. He settled for an unattractive cackle before gasping, "Snape hates me!"

Draco scoffed, clearly thinking that this was a boldfaced lie, though he didn't try to contradict Harry. He merely looked down at his prefect badge again, this time with the realization that it was no mistake. He had been selected, and not Harry.

"Are we having a party in here?" said a voice behind them, "Budge up, you three! I've got laundry here."

Mrs. Weasley, carrying a basket piled high with school robes, eased her way around Harry, Blaise, and Millie. Focused as she was on not toppling the stack of freshly-laundered clothes, she didn't spare a glance toward her youngest son. Fred loudly cleared his throat.

"No! Don't!" warned George.

"She's going to hear about it sometime," Fred informed his twin in a resigned voice, "Better get it over with now."

"Get what over with?" Mrs. Weasley asked, turning toward them with a look of suspicion on her face, "Because if it's about Weasley's Weird Whinnys or whatever you're calling it, I've already told you…"

She stopped. Her gaze fell on the badge in Ron's hand. He held it helpfully toward her, allowing the light to catch the golden P so it sparkled in her eyes.

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

"What are we then?" asked George, gesturing toward his twin, "Next door neighbors?"

Mrs. Weasley didn't appear to hear him. She was too busy throwing her arms around Ron in delight. "Wait till your father hears! I'm so proud of you, Ron! You could be head boy in a few years, just like Bill and Percy… Oh, Ronnie!"

Somewhere in the middle of her rapture, her eyes fell on Draco. He had tried to extricate himself from the room, either in an attempt to inform his own mother of the news, or merely hoping to avoid a family scene. But Harry and his friends were still lingering in the doorway, blocking his retreat. As luck would have it, Mrs. Weasley noticed the badge he tried unsuccessfully to hide in his hand.

"Draco's got one as well!" Mrs. Weasley cried, releasing her son and spinning Draco around to face her, "Well done, Draco! Your mother will be so pleased. Oh! We'll have to get you boys something nice to celebrate. Ron's already got an owl. How about new dress robes? Oh my! I'm so excited. I'll just pop down and see if Narcissa has any ideas…"

She bustled out of the room, practically knocking Harry and the others out of her way, singing a happy song under her breath as she went. Ron lingered only a moment longer, then announced, "I think I'll just go and suggest a new racing broom. I mean, it couldn't hurt, right?"

He sped away, leaving Fred and George to make their retching noises in peace. Draco remained standing in the middle of the room, looking confused and, as Harry thought, a little pleased with himself.

There was a festive atmosphere at dinner that night. Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Zabini, and Mrs. Malfoy had created a banner to congratulate the new prefects. Draco, seeing his own name proudly listed along Ron's and Millie's, was speechless as he took his seat at the table.

"Just look at this! You'd think it was her own child made prefect, but no!" Blaise said, his genuine anger now completely gone, replaced with a sort of jaded humor. He had decided that if Draco was a prefect, then it wasn't an honor he cared to have himself. He informed Millie, without irony, that he pitied her the misfortune of being lumped together with Draco.

Harry was busy laughing at his friend's dry wit when Kingsley Shacklebolt joined their party. The general chatter didn't stop him from overhearing the auror when he said to Sirius, "I'm surprised Harry wasn't selected. I thought Albus would want him to set the example among his peers…"

Harry's laughter melted away. He sat for a moment in silent contemplation, unnoticed by Blaise and Millie, who had continued to debate over the merits of the prefect position. He was starting to wonder if everyone had expected him to be prefect. In his opinion, the decision to select Draco instead of himself wasn't all that surprising. After the incident with Slytherin's locket, Dumbledore couldn't possibly trust Harry with any kind of responsibility. And Snape certainly wouldn't have vouched for him, no matter what Draco believed.

While Harry mused over whether he should feel more slighted by Draco's nomination than he did, Fred and George Weasley began begging their mother to let them have a go at the boggart in the writing desk.

"Sirius said ages ago that he'd let us practice on it!" Fred argued.

"You know as well as I do that he's been recovering from…" Mrs. Weasley began, though she cut her comment short as she smoothed a bit of Ron's hair that was sticking up in the back. "Anyway, we've been busy with the Order. You think we have time to supervise you kids all the time?"

"But we aren't kids," insisted George, "We're old enough to use magic outside of school! Couldn't we just handle it ourselves? We don't need Sirius to supervise!"

"Yes, alright," Mrs. Weasley finally agreed before turning back to Ron and insisting he take a second helping of their dessert.

Sirius had concluded his conversation with Kingsley and came to sit by Harry's side, grinning at him as he did so.

"Seems like a lot of fuss over a few badges if you ask me," he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'm happy for Millie," Harry replied, pleased that he could say so without sounding bitter, "It's alright that I'm not a prefect. To tell the truth, I forgot all about it until Millie showed me her badge."

Sirius seemed pleased to hear that Harry wasn't disappointed. He clapped him on the shoulder with a cry of, "There's a good lad! That's exactly what I said when I was in fifth year."

"Surely you weren't a prefect?" Harry asked him with a teasing grin.

"Me? Never! Your father and I spent too much time in detention to even be considered. I'm afraid the honor fell to Remus. He was the good boy."

Remus, to whom this last comment was principally directed, frowned slightly and added, "I suppose Dumbledore thought I would straighten out my two wayward friends. He was, of course, mistaken."

Sirius let out a barking laugh. "You were always the worst of us!"

To Harry, Sirius added, "He was the mastermind, you see. Without him, the Marauder's Map would have never been created. We got into some of our best adventures thanks to Moony."

Remus feigned offense, though Harry could tell the compliment pleased him, "It was you and James who were the bad influences. I'd have been just fine if you'd left me alone."

"Who could leave you alo…" Sirius started to say, but his words were cut off as he winced, his hand moving instinctively toward his chest. At almost the same moment, a shock of pain rippled through Harry's scar. It wasn't as intense as it had been in the past. Rather, since Voldemort returned, his scar hurt all the time.

This didn't prevent Sirius from taking the opportunity to ask Harry if he was alright, using Harry's hiss of discomfort to mask his own pain. Harry assured his godfather that he was fine, but he couldn't conceal the concern on his face. How much longer would Sirius need to recover?

The following day, Harry, Blaise, and Millie began packing their things. They had to roam all about Grimmauld Place, collecting the various books, robes, and school supplies they'd scattered during their long stay. Everything they'd been able to find had been thrown haphazardly into a pile on Harry's bedroom floor. They were busy sorting through the mess, trying to put them in their proper trunks, while discussing the start of the new term.

Everyone was anxious to leave. The past few weeks stuck inside Grimmauld Place had made them all stir crazy. They'd practically begged for a trip to Diagon Alley to purchase new school supplies, but Remus had said it was too dangerous for them all to venture out together. He had volunteered to escort Mrs. Weasley himself, leaving the children behind.

They were still absent while Harry and his friends sorted through a pile of socks, seeking pairs, when they heard Ron's voice shouting, "Stop it! I said cut it out! NO!"

"Think his brothers are trying to flush his badge again?" Blaise asked.

Harry was already climbing to his feet, "We'd better go check it out."

The shouts were not coming from their bedroom, nor even from the lavatory. Instead, the boys were gathered in one of the seldom-used parlors. Harry came to a sudden halt when he saw what crouched menacingly in the middle of the room. It was a giant spider. The hairy body and eight glittering eyes reminded Harry strongly of Aragog, the gigantic arachnid that he once met in the Forbidden Forest. This one was considerably smaller, about the size of a large dog, but still larger than any spider had any right to be. Harry tore his gaze away from its clicking mandibles and noticed that the drawer of the writing desk stood open. Not far away, Fred and George were holding Ron by the arms, forcing him closer to the spider while Ron's trainers slipped across the carpeted floor.

It didn't take long for Harry to realize that the spider was the same boggart the twins had been dying to see. Fred and George seemed to be taking this opportunity to haze "Ickle Prefect Ronnie" with his worst fear.

Ron, his voice high and breaking in terror, screamed, "Stop! You said you just wanted to get rid of the thing! So get rid of it!"

"It's only a wee boggart, Ronnie," Fred said mockingly, "Nothing to be afraid of!"

"If it's nothing then why don't you do it?" Ron challenged.

"Can't. Our worst fear is You-Know-Who," George said coolly, "And since we've never seen him ourselves, we'd probably only confuse the poor boggy."

Draco chose this ill-advised moment to come to Ron's defense. Unluckily for him, stepping between the boggart and Ron only attracted the twin's attention.

"Good idea, Drakey!" said Fred cheerfully, releasing Ron so he could grab hold of the Slytherin instead. "It's only fair that both prefects get the same treatment!"

Together, the twins pushed Draco toward the spider. For the space of a single breath, the boggart paused, then it instantly changed form, and Lucius Malfoy stepped forward toward his son.

The laughter from the twins stopped instantly as Draco's face paled and he stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor. The boggart, wearing Mr. Malfoy's stern expression, looked on with disappointment stamped across his expression.

"That's not funny!" Ron shouted at his brothers, "Stop it, now!"

Before the boggart could take another step toward Draco, one of the twins lifted his wand and said, "Riddikulus!"

The boggart vanished in a puff of smoke, vanquished at last. The awkward silence did not disappear so easily.

"Merlin's beard…" muttered one of the twins as he offered a hand toward Draco, "I mean… Sorry, mate…"

"Yeah…" added the second twin apologetically, "We were only foolin'. We didn't mean to…"

They paused again, the normally boisterous and quick-witted duo finding that their words failed them when trying to be sincere. Draco's face was still pale. He avoided meeting anyone's eye as he said, "Please, don't tell mother."

Harry exchanged a glance with Blaise and Millie, then motioned for them to take their leave. They had seen enough. Harry didn't need to speak with his friends about what they just saw to know that they all agreed. If they still needed any proof that Draco was not in league with his father, they had it now.