YEAR 4

Andrew walked down the corridor a little tiredly, having been running around all week studying for tests, helping first years and monitoring his fellow Ravenclaws in hopes of becoming Prefect for his house, an honour which might finally get people to stop seeing him as "Jacob's brother" or "that Cursed Vaults kid," though he had told no one of such thoughts, not even his friends.

Early in the morning he'd had Potions class with Professor Snape, who contrary to his admittedly misguided expectations provided no encouragement whatsoever, not even after Andrew brewed a perfect Calming Draught. Fortunately, he wasn't the type to feel down about those sorts of things, and simply continued working hard on his studies.

Andrew was on his way to the library when a first year he'd helped a few days earlier caught up to him and told him Professor Flitwick wanted to see him. Andrew took the moment to ask how the boy was faring.

"Not too bad," replied the first year with a shy smile. "Thanks again for helping me with all those rules, even though it was a test."

Andrew returned the smile.

"No problem," he said.

Though it had been a test, he had a feeling the boy really did need help. Professor Flitwick had probably been on the receiving end of his questions and decided to send him to a Prefect hopeful instead and kill two birds with one stone.

"Look, anything you need, you can talk to me, alright?"

"I might take you up on your offer, Andrew Ribeiro," said the first year, his smile broadening into a grin. He was a good kid, weird though it was for Andrew to think of the first years that way, considering he was only fourteen himself. Year One seemed like a faraway memory now.

They parted ways, and Andrew decided to head for the first floor corridor, seeing as he'd already met Professor Flitwick there three times. Sure enough, he spied the Professor as soon as he opened the doors.

Professor Flitwick was a calming presence in Andrew's life in Hogwarts, possibly even more so than Professor McGonagall, though he would be hard pressed to choose between them. As a Charms Professor, he was upbeat and easy to understand. Andrew learned a great many things from him, and often helped him tutor any struggling students, to great success. As a Head of House, he was fair and reliable, never being overly harsh in his punishments and always willing to listen to an explanation.

Andrew greeted him with a smile. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"I wanted to congratulate you on your academic excellence in every one of your classes," Professor Flitwick replied. "Professor Snape informed me of your prowess in his class earlier today."

"Wh— He did?!" said Andrew before he could stop himself. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, and in fact was discreetly checking his professor for signs of Polyjuice, although he wasn't sure the potion could change height or mass to this degree...

Professor Flitwick quickly noticed his shock. "I believe his exact words were, 'Ribeiro has proven adequate at following instructions,' which you should know is nothing short of a glowing recommendation, coming from him," the Professor explained. "In fact, the only other time he praised a student from another house so highly was when he mentioned Penny Haywood had a modicum of talent for Potions. I believe dear Pomona nearly fainted on the spot."

Andrew was so happy he could have run back to the Potions classroom and hugged Professor Snape right then and there, but Professor Flitwick wasn't finished.

"My dear student, you are indeed one step closer to becoming Prefect, and simply making it this far proves you are a credit to your house."

Andrew tensed up a little. That sort of praise was very often followed by a 'but.'

"There is, however, one other matter we must discuss," said the Professor, his tone grave.

"Y-Yes?"

"Mr. Ribeiro," Professor Flitwick started, pausing to choose his next words carefully, "have you gone through puberty?"

"Um..." Andrew replied intelligently. He felt his face heat up in the span of seconds.

"Now, now, I realise this may be awkward, but it is also of vital importance," the Professor continued. "The younger students may come to you for guidance, and on such occasions, you must have the guidance they seek."

Though flushed, Andrew considered it. The thing is, he'd never gone to his Prefect for any of, um, that, and he was sure none of his dormmates had either. The only one he had told was Rowan, and only because he was too Ravenclaw for his own good, and kept asking embarrassing questions. The library didn't have any books on it either, except on the Restricted Section, and it was a whole endeavour to get in there. So, what he was thinking was, it would have been much easier to just hear it from Chester.

The more he thought about it, the more unfair it seemed, to have to deal with all these problems on your own, away from your family. While watching Jacob grow had given him some idea of what to expect, he still panicked when he woke up one morning with a wet spot in his sheets. He thought he'd been hexed! What was he supposed to do, owl his parents?

Chester never seemed equipped to answer those questions though, he thought ruefully. Andrew would have been mortified to talk to the older boy about that—in fact, he remembered being terrified Chester would find out and deduct house points, and then everyone would know—and that was a problem, because your Prefect was supposed to be someone you could go to for anything, without involving any adults.

Andrew resolved to be a better Prefect than that. Not that he hated his old Prefect or anything. Chester Davies had taught Andrew how to defend himself, and many other things, but he was simply too fussy about house points to help when it really mattered. On the occasion, Andrew had cast Scourgify and hoped nobody noticed the lingering scent (they did) and that the house elves picked up the laundry soon (they didn't) and then fumbled around trying to discover what was wrong with him. He'd almost talked to Professor McGonagall, but he didn't want to disappoint her.

"Mr. Ribeiro?" Professor Flitwick asked, a concerned look clear on his face.

Andrew swallowed hard, wishing for all the world he could just disappear, but if he wanted to be Prefect, and he did, he had to deal with this. His hands were balled into fists and stuck at his sides, his ears felt so hot he thought they might let loose steam, but still he raised (or rather, lowered) his eyes to meet the Professor's, and said:

"I have, sir. Gone through puberty, that is."

Professor Flitwick beamed at him as though he'd just passed his O.W.L.s. "Very good," he said.