Chapter 9 – By Ministerial Decree

The morning after Harry, his aunt, and Dudley's trip to Diagon Alley an owl arrived, as it always did, with Harry's copy of the Daily Prophet. Vernon took it first, as he was wont to do.

"You made the front page, Pet," he said. He nudged Petunia with his free hand. "Have a look. That's you there, and Harry and Dud, of course. But who's that bloke, then? The one with the teeth."

Harry leaned over for a look. True enough, the front page of the Prophet that morning was a photograph of Harry with Lockhart, along with a swooning Petunia and a visibly unhappy Dudley. The Harry in the photograph kept rolling his eyes at Lockhart, who beamed and at the cameras and stopped every few seconds to kiss Petunia's hand. The Petunia in the photograph looked positively thrilled at the attention, fluttering her lashes and covering her mouth with her hand.

That is what I wanted to do, Harry thought as he looked at himself in the photograph, but I'd thought I'd managed to put on a happy face... Everyone in Britain and Ireland who read the Prophet – which was most of the wizarding population – would see Harry's disdain for Lockhart right on the front page.

And would see his aunt buckling like a schoolgirl with her first taste of love, which he could well have done without.

Petunia – the one in the kitchen – went red.

"Oh, he's a teacher of Harry's. New this year. Some sort of celebrity... He was just being nice," she said.

"Well, he's just being nice all over the front page of the papers," Vernon said. "You never said he kissed your hand! Look, he's doing it again."

"Oh, Vernon, darling, it's not like that. Really. You know how these wizard photos are. They've got a mind of their own, haven't they, Harry?" protested Petunia. She glanced at the paper, then over at Harry, and then back at the paper again.

"I—er—yeah, they do," Harry said. Of course, their mind usually betrayed their counterpart's feelings to a degree, but that wasn't the most helpful thing he could have said, so he didn't say it.

"What's that bloody school thinking, hiring teachers like that?" complained Vernon, still staring right at the front page of the Prophet. "Leering at married women and taking pictures with schoolboys! I have half a mind to complain but having met what passes for a headmaster I don't think it would do anything..." Harry thought Vernon was more concerned with how handsome and charming Lockhart was than anything else, seeing him as unfair competition. Especially given Petunia's reaction.

Harry shrugged.

"He's a bit of a ponce, but he's part of the Dark Force Defence League and everything... Meant to be really good at handling Dark creatures and wizards," Harry said. "He said afterwards he just wanted to take advantage of the photo opportunity. I think he only really cares about, you know, looking good in the papers and all that. Selling books. Think he enjoys being famous and the Dark stuff is how he does it. But he should be useful to have around the school, what with, er... well, you know."

"Hmm," grunted Vernon. He didn't sound convinced.

Which was perfectly fair since Harry wasn't totally convinced either. But Harry assumed that Dumbledore had properly vetted him, and since Lockhart had been hired on Dumbledore evidently hadn't found him lacking.

"You can read the paper later, darling," said Petunia, taking the Prophet from Vernon. She folded the paper in two and placed it down on the table, but not before deftly removing the front page – its large photograph included – and placing it into her pocket. No doubt that would disappear into her private memory box in the attic. "While we're all here I thought we should organise how we're going to get the boys off to school. It's all muddled up this year—Harry's due back on the Sunday because school starts on the Monday, but Dudley isn't due until the Tuesday. Did you want to take the Tuesday off, or should I go on my own?"

"No, no," said Vernon. "I'll take the day off. Always good to have an extra day, isn't it?"

Petunia nodded.

"We'll drop you off as usual, Harry. No need to worry about that. We'll all come to see you off, of course. How does that sound?"

It was a distraction from her appearance in the paper, Harry knew, rather than any real desire to plan the boys' return to their respective schools. That was always easy and set in stone, with nothing to actually plan, since it wasn't as if King's Cross Station or Smeltings ever moved about. Still, Harry had wanted to sort that out as the new term loomed, so he took the opportunity.

"Yes, sounds great, Aunt Petunia."

"Wonderful," Petunia said. "Dudley, we've still got to get your new uniform—we can go today or we can go at the weekend. Which do you prefer?"

Harry glanced over at him. He seemed torn. If he went shopping with Petunia that day, he would lose his last Tuesday of the summer – the day he and his friends always went to play laser tag. But if he went at the weekend, he'd have to spend the very last days of freedom running errands.

"Thursday," he decided eventually. "And I need new boxing gloves as well—my old ones have a rip in them."

"If we need to get some new gloves as well maybe we should go today and Thursday," Petunia said. "What do you think, Dudley? Will the shop have them, or will we have to order?"

"The shop always has gloves, Mum," Dudley said immediately. "We can just go on Thursday. And the uniform shop always has my size—you put it on order, remember?"

"Well, darling," said Petunia, and Harry could see she was trying to phrase what came next as delicately as possible, "I'm not quite sure that the size we had on order will still fit. So I think we should go today as well, perhaps. Yes, that would be best, I think. Harry, do you—"

"I, er, I've got some homework left to do," Harry said, quick as he could. He didn't want to spend the last few days of summer shopping for Dudley's school things, not when he did actually have some finishing touches he could put on his homework. He was going to be a prefect, and he didn't want to start the year off wrong, after all. He said as much. "And with me being a prefect now I want to be stirring a full cauldron, you know."

"That does make sense," agreed Petunia. "That settles it, then—Dudley, we'll go shopping today and Thursday, and that way you can still see your friends tomorrow. Isn't it nice how things work out? Now, first we should go to..."

Petunia spent the rest of breakfast detailing the errands she wanted to run, which only managed to get to anything Dudley needed after quite the array of shops Petunia wanted to 'just nip into'. When he could finally leave the breakfast table – after Vernon had finished and snuck away with his copy of the morning papers, the Prophet sans front page – Harry dashed back upstairs to tackle his remaining bits and pieces of homework.

September the third came along much faster than Harry had thought it would. Of course, Harry had spent most of his summer busy and elsewhere, so the days had passed by quicker than usual, but that didn't help when on the morning he was meant to go back to school he still had to figure out how to pack his full-to-bursting school trunk.

With the expanded compartment Harry had picked up at Diagon Alley, he reckoned he'd be able to fit everything he had inside. Still, given the massive stack of books he had, along with the additional equipment for Alchemy, packing his school trunk proved to be quite the logistical nightmare.

When it got to nine am and Harry still had his potions ingredients and the full set of Lockhart books still to pack, he gave up momentarily to send Agrippa off to school. No need for the owl to spend his entire day cooped up on a train, after all.

"I'll meet you at school, Agrippa," Harry said as he opened his window to let the owl out. "No sense in the both of us being stuck on a train all day, is there?"

Agrippa nudged Harry gently before taking off into the morning sky. Harry watched him go before returning to his packing with a big sigh.

Fortunately, he managed it by half past nine, and Petunia had got Dudley sorted, so Harry, his aunt and uncle, and Dudley all packed into the car, trunk included, and set off for the train station. They were cutting it a bit fine, perhaps, as the train ordinarily left at ten on the dot, but Harry had never had trouble catching it yet.

Dudley and Vernon went to park up while Petunia accompanied Harry to the barrier between the muggle and wizarding sides of the station.

"Have a good year," Petunia said. "Remember you can write home—the neighbours are used to the owls by now. They barely even mention them anymore... And remember to be safe. Heaven knows I don't completely trust that headmaster of yours but try not to—well, you remember what happened last year. This year... After the trial and how everything… well… I want you to be more careful this year."

"I know, Aunt Petunia. I'll be careful."

'Don't go looking for trouble', she means, Harry thought. It was a fair comment after what had happened at the end of the previous year, although Harry didn't want to hear it yet again. This year he would have to watch out for any potential recriminations from Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort – both Voldemorts – but Harry thought it manageable. Lucius Malfoy was, after all, no longer on the Board of Governors and could only accomplish so much as a single member of the Wizengamot. And Voldemort – the original one, anyway – was a pitiful little ghost hiding away at Malfoy Manor.

Harry was a flesh and blood teenager, safe and sound behind Hogwarts's thick stone walls and exemplary magical defences.

Petunia just nodded.

"I think I'll be home for Christmas this year as well," Harry said. "There's nothing on this year, so... I thought I would come back. If that's alright."

"Of course it's alright!" said Petunia. "We've missed you, you know. Marge will be there but we can sort out how that will work later on in the year. Now, we don't want you to be late!"

"Right," Harry said. "I'll see you at Christmas, then." He set off for the barrier, trolley in hand, and left his aunt standing on the muggle side.

Harry emerged onto the wizarding side of the platform and crashed right into a portly wizard in aquamarine robes.

"Shit—I'm really sorry," Harry said.

The wizard simply scowled and said nothing. Harry looked around and found that the station was full. Each of the train's entrances had long, snaking queues trailing from them, and the station was littered with wizards and witches and trolleys, along with a veritable menagerie of animals. The departures board showed that the Hogwarts Express departure was delayed, something which Harry hadn't thought was even possible.

It was pure chaos, and King's Cross on Hogwarts days wasn't ever a picture of serenity. But even relative to that Harry emerged into nothing short of pandemonium.

Harry scanned through the crowd in search of any of his friends, but it seemed impossible amongst the heaving mass of humanity squeezed onto the little platform. They'd arranged to meet ahead of boarding so they could all choose a carriage together, but Harry was a bit late and with the station so crowded, perhaps plans had changed.

Harry pushed his trolley further onto the platform and away from the scowling wizard in search of someone he knew well enough to jump the queues with. He discounted several less than pleasant options as he pushed his way through the station including the Weasleys and Hermione Granger. No sense risking having to sit with them for the entire journey to the castle, after all.

Harry eventually found it in the form of Tracey – and her younger brother.

Perfect, Harry thought. He could have done without her brother's company, especially since he knew the topic of Voldemort and related issues would come up, but it was hardly the end of the world. Illtud was pleasant enough anyway.

"Alright?" said Harry, squeezing his trolley in next to Tracey and ignoring the muttering of the people stood behind her.

"Harry!" said Tracey. "Oh, I'm so glad you found us! You remember Illtud, don't you? He's at Hogwarts this year because of the... well, you know already—it's in all the papers."

"Hello," Harry said to Illtud with a little nod. He didn't feel up to trying to pronounce his name, not when he had questions for Tracey. Still, the first year looked miserable, almost as if he wanted to be anywhere else but Platform 9¾.

But then, he probably did want to be elsewhere. Dimly, Harry remembered that he'd wanted to go to the school in Wales instead.

"What's in all the papers?"

"You haven't read?" asked Tracey. "Really? I'd have thought you'd been keeping up with the news after—well—"

But she didn't get to finish because Blaise slipped in next to them, causing a great deal of muttering and aggrieved tutting from those behind.

"Thank God I saw you," Blaise said, "because I didn't much fancy waiting in this queue. That bloody Decree..."

"I know," said Tracey. "It's chaos. There's just so many people waiting this year."

"I don't know what the Ministry's thinking," Blaise continued. "What was wrong with how it was before?"

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "I have no idea what you're talking about," said Harry. "Can someone tell me?"

Both of them turned to look at him, although Illtud continued to stare miserably at the Express.

"You've really not been reading the papers?" Blaise said. "You'd think with the year you've had..."

"My uncle's been reading it," said Harry defensively, "and he tells me whether I'm in it or not and then I read it to see what they've said. But otherwise I don't bother, because it's shit." He shrugged. "It's just anti-goblin propaganda and gossip columns disguised as news."

"Well, if you'd been reading it you'd know what all this is about," said Blaise with a shrug.

"Can you just tell me?" Harry said.

"There's this Educational Decree," Tracey said. "The Ministry announced it—Lucius Malfoy sponsored it as one of his first acts in the Wizengamot."

"I—wait—what?" said Harry. "Lucius Malfoy sponsored a law about Hogwarts? I thought he wasn't allowed. The arbitration ruled…"

"The arbitration—which you were at, so you should know—said he can't be on the Board of Governors," Blaise said, shrugging. "This is different."

"Well, that's a shit piece of news," Harry said. "Lucius Malfoy, with a fucking piece of—er—" Harry paused and glanced at Illtud. "You know. Making laws about Hogwarts."

"That's not even the worst of it," Tracey said. "The Educational Decree says all school-aged wizards and witches in Britain and Ireland have to attend Hogwarts this year. They've shut down all the other schools in the country, forbidden anyone from going to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang or anywhere, even. And there's going to be a High Inquisition at Hogwarts this year! Mam said the Ministry's revised the whole curriculum. Appointed teachers, changed the exam standards. It's… a lot."

"Something to do with protecting the reputation of the school, streamlining educational standards and promoting unity, preventing falling standards, all that rot," Blaise said. "That's what the papers have been saying. But given who sponsored the initial bill, there's probably an ulterior motive there."

That was rather a lot to take in. Harry couldn't quite understand how or why Vernon hadn't mentioned such widespread and sweeping changes, changes which would surely have impacted Harry in a major way. And he had been reading the papers daily for the entire summer, so Vernon must have known something.

But then, Vernon had said something about educational news, although he hadn't elaborated. In Vernon's mind that was likely sufficient, especially since he been more interested in the goblin stuff and the business pages. The High Inquisition was probably what Vernon had been alluding to. Perhaps Harry should have read the papers himself, since it wasn't as if Vernon really understood the things Harry found important…

He sighed.

All the students in Britain and Ireland attending Hogwarts suddenly would account for how busy Diagon Alley had been, and how busy Platform 9¾ was.

And no doubt the Inquisition business was partly behind why the Hogwarts letters had gone out late. Dumbledore must have pushed back against the Decree, especially with how the trial had gone.

"They've just shut all the other schools?" Harry said. He almost couldn't believe it. That seemed like the biggest kind of governmental overreach, the sort of thing Vernon got riled up about but which would never actually happen. From what Harry knew of the often-fragile political situation of the Isles, shutting down all the schools was a monumentally controversial idea. Not just within the Celtic Fringe, but in England too, as there would be hundreds of students in attendance at Wandwright's or that day school who didn't want to go anywhere near Hogwarts. Not to mention all the homeschooled students.

"Well, not officially," said Tracey. "But they've made it law that everyone has to go to Hogwarts, even if they were going somewhere else, so effectively they shut them all. It's not fair—Illtud was meant to go to yr Ysgol this year, but he has to come here instead. It's not so bad because all his friends have to as well, but people are really angry about it. Nan's already started a letter campaign. Mam said she's been inundated at work, as well."

"I can imagine," Harry said. Gwen worked at some sort of Welsh affairs office at the Ministry, and that seemed like a lightning rod for complaints. "But what's the point of it all? How'd the Ministry justify it?"

The queue started to move forward, albeit slowly.

"They mentioned the acromantula in the Forest," Tracey said, "and they said about you getting kidnapped by Quirrell in first year. They even…" She paused. "Malfoy even mentioned your duel with Draco last year. Said that you both obviously only learned Dark magic from school, so… That's why they needed the Inquisition, apparently, to sort out how any of that could happen. I think they're trying to discredit Dumbledore. But then they made up all sorts of things about the other schools, said their students needed a proper education. It didn't help that there was that scandal at Wandwright's a few years ago, and then the Prophet did that story about homeschooling standards… Honestly it was just a load of nonsense, but..."

"It worked, and now ... this," said Harry, gesturing to the crowded platform. "Right. I get it."

"Mm," said Blaise. "It's a bit of a ball-ache but I reckon it'll fail—massively. It's such a big thing to do and people are so pissed off that something will have to give. So at least Lucius Malfoy and that lot will have the public embarrassment of their flagship policy failing."

"Well, there is that, I suppose," Harry said. Malfoy and Voldemort getting a public knockback was worth the fuss of having to queue to catch the train to school. Of course, people wouldn't know Voldemort had anything to do with it, but Harry knew, and anything that decreased Malfoy's influence was a good thing.

It was just a pity he'd gained a seat on the Wizengamot in the first place.

And it seemed as if the trial and the arbitration had done nothing to check his influence at all. Ejected from his position on the Board of Governors, Malfoy had managed to find a way to exert even more control over Hogwarts.

"Once we get on the train, Illtud, you don't have to stay with us," Harry heard Tracey say as the queue moved closer to the train entrance. "Your friends from the village should be here too, so you can go find them."

Illtud said something back to her in Welsh, something which started a little argument between them. Harry left them to it.

"Have you heard who our prefects are this year?" Blaise asked. "It's not me—or Tracey, by the looks of it. I reckon Daphne's got it for the girls, though."

"Oh, er—" said Harry. "It's me. I don't know why Snape would make me a prefect, but he did. I was thinking I might say no—can we do that? Do you know?"

"No, no, this is good," Blaise said. "You get to be out after hours and there's all sorts of other rules the prefects don't have to follow. You'd be a fool to give the badge back. Speaking of, you aren't wearing it."

Harry sighed. He'd put it in his robe pocket, hoping all the while he could simply pretend it wasn't there until it was time to leave for the stupid prefects' meeting. He took it out and then put it on.

"Cheer up," Blaise said. "At least this means it wasn't Draco!"

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry said, although that did make him wonder. "Has anyone heard from Draco? I mean, obviously he's not going to be sending us letters, is he, but..." Harry had heard nothing of Draco since the trial.

"I've heard nothing," Blaise said. "I've been keeping up with Vince and Theodore—oh, don't look at me like that," he said, noting Harry's glower. "I know what the situation is but it doesn't make sense for me to just completely drop them, does it?" he said in a low voice. "Anyway, they've not seen hide nor hair of him all summer. No one has. But with that new law we can be sure he's coming to school this year." Blaise paused. "I did wonder, after the news about his scar—he's right vain, probably wouldn't want to be anywhere near school even without all the—the—er, extra stuff."

By then Tracey had stopped arguing with Illtud and they'd reached the front of the queue and it was finally time to board the train. Illtud went off on his own, muttering darkly to himself in Welsh, while Tracey, Harry, and Blaise shuffled through the corridor in the opposite direction in search of Daphne and Millicent.

"Neither of you've seen Daph or Millie, have you?" Harry asked as they pushed through in search of an empty compartment.

"No," said Tracey, "but I did get a letter from Daphne. She's the new prefect from the girls—so you won't have to deal with Pansy, Harry," she said, glancing at the shiny badge on his robes.

"Small mercies," muttered Harry. "What else did she say?"

"She wanted us all to grab lunch in the dining carriage together—thought it might be nice this year—but the sign on the way in said it was closed this year. Probably because there's so many of us... I know you'll see her at the meeting, but we should still try to find them both, because otherwise Millie will be sat on her own..." said Tracey.

They kept on looking, travelling further and further along the magically enlarged train, until Harry realised the train itself was much longer than he'd ever seen it. They eventually found Daphne and Millicent sat in a compartment near to the end of the train – or at least, near to where the end should have been, if it hadn't been enlarged well beyond its natural capacity.

"Found them!" declared Tracey. She slid open the compartment door and dumped her trunk – along with her cat's carry cage – onto the rack. Harry and Blaise followed. "God, that took us ages!"

"I know!" said Daphne. "Do you know, it's half past ten and the train still hasn't gone? It's madness. Oh, but it's so lovely to see you all again!" she got up from where she'd been sat, wrapped around Millicent, to give Tracey a hug. "And you both did so well in the duelling—oh, I bet you're so proud! You were in all the papers. Well, I'm sure you already know," Daphne said. She glanced at Harry, and whatever she'd been about to say was gone, replaced by surprise at his badge. "And you're the other prefect! I'm so pleased to see that, Harry, because I was honestly worried it would be Draco. Even after everything that happened… But it's you, so that's wonderful news!"

"Er—thanks, Daphne," Harry said. He sat down on the opposite seat to the two girls.

"Alright, lads?" Millicent said. "Have a good summer?"

"I did, actually," said Blaise. "Not that anyone else thought to ask me."

"Mate, you sent me a letter not three days ago and I asked!" Harry said.

Blaise shrugged.

"But that was in a letter. Honestly, you've got no class."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You sound like my aunt."

The train eventually got moving at quarter to eleven, a full forty-five minutes after its scheduled departure time, and everyone finally managed to settle in for the journey ahead. After perhaps fifteen minutes, Daphne stood up and looked over at Harry.

"We'll have to go to the meeting, Harry. Our letters said it starts twenty minutes after the train leaves, didn't it?" she said.

Harry stood up.

"I did want us all to go for lunch in the dining carriage afterwards," Daphne said, "but it's closed. Awful, I know. So we'll just come back here after the meeting, unless they want to put us on patrol, or something like that. See you later!"

Daphne checked her hair in a little hand mirror, played about with her moving butterfly hairclip, and then left the compartment at a quick pace. Harry followed.

"Now, Millie and I agreed we'd ease into this, since it was a little bit naughty of her to have said, but I just thought that now was a good opportunity to come out with it," Daphne said once they'd got away from the compartment, completely serious and without her usual well-practised casual air. She stopped walking down the train corridor completely, stood still and stared right at Harry.

Has Millie proposed? Harry wondered. They were a bit young for it, but then they had been joined at the hip since the Yule Ball, and—

"Millie told me about You-Know-Who still being alive," Daphne said, and Harry had to replay the words in his mind over again at least three times before he understood her meaning. But Daphne didn't stop there. "And I wanted to let you know, I'm on your side, Harry. I know she shouldn't have said anything without telling you first, and I am sorry she betrayed your trust like that. But... you can understand why she'd want me to know, can't you?"

Daphne looked at him earnestly.

"I—er—I do, yeah," Harry said, although he was a bit miffed she'd done it without saying anything to Harry. At least he hadn't told her about the prophecy yet – he wanted to keep that bit of information close to his chest, and even if he ended up telling Millie and Daphne, it should at least be his decision. "So, you're with us, then?"

"Oh, definitely," Daphne said. "This is too important for me not to be. I'm not a fighter—you saw how awful I was at duelling—but I don't want any of that... you know, the Blood War... to happen again. It was awful. I'd be safe, and so would Millie, but Millie's father... and it's just not right, is it? So I just wanted to tell you that. I didn't think it was fair for me not to say anything."

"I appreciate that," Harry said. More allies were always good, even if he would have preferred to come by them differently. That Millicent had told Daphne of Voldemort's survival was hardly surprising, even if Harry wished she could have kept quiet. Just so Harry could be the one to decide. Still, it was done, and Harry didn't think Daphne would be the sort of go around gossiping about it.

Not that anyone would believe her, given the content.

"Good," Daphne said. "So, whatever happens—whenever it happens—know you can count on me. On the both of us. I'm going to become a healer, and they always need healers in war, so… that's something I can do. Something I will do. I've been thinking about it all summer." She paused. "Now, let's go—I don't want to be late to our first prefects' meeting!"

The prefects' compartment was large, almost cavernous when Harry compared it with the others on the train, and even it was packed full to bursting. None of the prefects carried their trunks or other things with them, but even so, there was only just enough room for everyone in it. Two long seats sat on opposite sides of the compartment, half of each filled with prefects from each House. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws took the seat against the corridor wall, while the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins took the seat along the outer wall of the carriage beneath the windows.

Harry and Daphne slipped in, late to the meeting but not nearly the last to be so. A steady stream of prefects entered the carriage after them, some which Harry recognised as prefects from last year, and others – even in fourth and fifth year – who he knew hadn't ever been prefects. Harry spotted both Ernie and Justin stood amongst the Hufflepuff contingent, along with Hannah Abbot, and gave them a small nod as they passed.

Daphne pushed her way through the crowded compartment to reach the other Slytherin prefects. Harry followed her. They soon joined Shafiq and Farley, along with nine others – including Pansy.

Well, that's a bit shit, Harry thought. They'd obviously selected more than the usual number of prefects – that much was apparent from even a cursory look at the compartment – so Harry was unsurprised to see another of his classmates counted amongst them. Pansy, though, seemed like an unwise choice. Florence or Irene would have been better, at least in Harry's estimation. At the very least they were both capable of being nice.

"Just one left from our lot then," muttered Shafiq as Harry and Daphne joined Pansy as the youngest of the Slytherin prefects. "Diggory's getting annoyed—I really hope ours isn't last in..."

"Diggory?" echoed Harry. He glanced over at the Hufflepuffs where Diggory stood in the middle of the aisle between seats, a bright and shiny Head Boy badge pinned to his school robes. "Ah." It made sense that Diggory was the new Head Boy, Harry supposed – he'd taken the Triwizard Cup, been a finalist in multiple events and had a stellar academic record outside of that. With a record like that, Diggory was the perfect choice.

And probably the least controversial of all the possible choices, Harry mused. Diggory certainly had enough friends among the students to warrant consideration, and Harry hadn't ever heard of him getting in trouble with any of the staff, either.

A few more latecomers arrived after that, until it was just one prefect left – the last of Slytherin's third year prefects. Harry kept up an easy conversation with Daphne, one eye on the compartment door, as he waited for the meeting to begin.

"Right, well," said Diggory suddenly over the general din, "it looks like Slytherin's last prefect is either late or just not coming, so we'll have to start without him. Everyone else is here, I think, so we can start and then Yafir or Gemma, one of you can fill him in later? That sound good?"

Shafiq just muttered to himself.

"No problem, Cedric," Farley said. "I'll make sure he knows what's up."

"Good," Cedric said. "So, we've probably all already noticed, there's rather a lot of us this year. Because of the Educational Decree, this year they've doubled the number of prefects, so—"

The compartment door slid open and everyone in the compartment, Harry included, looked away from Diggory and at the door.

Draco stood in the doorway, a shiny prefect badge pinned to his school robes ... and a scar on his head. It was the first time Harry had seen it, although he of course knew it existed. It was the first time Draco had been seen since the incident, as far as Harry knew.

"...he got that from Potter," Harry heard someone say.

"...got to be awkward, both of them prefects," said someone else.

"…his dad was definitely guilty," said another. "I heard my mum say to my dad that…"

"…can't believe Potter got away with it all," Harry heard one Ravenclaw say. "That's fame for you…"

Soon enough the compartment was abuzz with gossip and mutterings as Draco made his way to join the other Slytherin prefects. As far as Harry could tell it was evenly split between those who believed Harry and those who believed the Malfoys. At least those who were talking loud enough to overhear, anyway.

Harry ignored the muttering, the comments, and focused on Draco's new scar. Its shape matched that of the Diadem almost perfectly, and sat across Draco's forehead as a jagged, angry red line. Draco had made it through the aftereffects of the horcrux and the possession, although not without consequence.

Harry resisted the temptation to trace the lines of his own scar.

If Draco heard the comments at all, it didn't show on his face. He crossed the compartment and joined the other Slytherins as if he had not a care in the world. He didn't apologise for being late.

"Er... okay, right, so now that we're all here," Diggory continued once the loud whispers had died down, "as I was saying. We've got double our usual number of prefects this year because of the Ministry business—no discussion now, please, that's not what we're here for—so our returning prefects have all got a lot of work to do in getting you all up to speed. They can go over the House-specific stuff with you later. All of us will have patrol duties this year after-hours, and with so many students this year, it's going to be rough. I haven't managed to get the schedules planned out yet—I've got to speak with Dumbledore still—but it's going to be more complicated than usual. So bear with me on that. For the ride to school, we'll pair up and patrol the corridors, but..."

Harry listened to Diggory as he explained their duties, what their role was meant to be, and what that actually meant in practice. It all sounded easy enough, even if Harry could well have done without the extra responsibilities. He already had enough to be getting on with. Still, the only bits that were especially onerous were ferrying first years from one classroom to another and escorting them to meals, and that stopped after a week or so.

The number of times Diggory made sure to underline how difficult the job was going to be that year specifically did give Harry reason to worry, but there was no getting out of it without giving up the job entirely, and Blaise had made a very good point by detailing the privileges involved. And that was without considering whether Dumbledore or Snape specifically wanted Harry in post and would forbid him from quitting anyway.

"...and lastly, all prefects have access to the prefects' bathrooms. Now, I know some of you will be thinking, 'I've got a bathroom back at the dorms' and that's true. But trust me on this—our special bathrooms are loads better. This can be a stressful job and the bathrooms help us unwind. Check them out. The senior fifth year prefects can show you where they are and how to get in, so don't worry about that," said Diggory. "So—off you go! We've wasted enough time as it is..."

Most of the gathered prefects flooded from the room as soon as they were dismissed from the meeting, although Harry stayed back to speak with Ernie.

"Hey, Daph—give me a sec, I'm just going to say hello to Ernie and Justin..." he said and left her with the other Slytherin prefects. It was a good opportunity to avoid Draco, anyway, since he didn't want to risk an altercation so early in the year.

"Good to see you with a badge on, Harry," Ernie said. "It's a lot of work but the perks are nice, aren't they?"

"Hello, Harry," Justin said. "Have a good summer? I heard you did well in the duelling."

"I—er—yeah. We won the tournament," said Harry. "Good result considering it's our debut."

"Oh, absolutely," Justin said. "You did very well."

To his credit, Justin said nothing at all about the trial or the arbitration. And he'd surely have known about it since Harry didn't doubt people were talking about it. Even if they hadn't been, Harry expected Ernie to have said something, just so that Justin would know. Assuming Justin didn't get the Prophet delivered while he was at home in the muggle world, anyway.

"Thanks," Harry said.

"Yes, yes," Ernie said. "Of course he did well—you saw how the pair of them duel. But enough with that—bit of rough luck with Malfoy being the other prefect, eh? Considering."

"Bit awkward if you get put together, what with… well, you know," Justin said.

"I hadn't thought of that," Harry said, more than a little bit miserably. "I can't imagine he'd agree to be paired with me though. And… it's probably for the best."

And, Harry thought, I can't imagine Dumbledore would be too happy about it, knowing who's living in his house. But then again, Dumbledore had clearly given the okay for Draco to be made a prefect, so...

"This year's full of surprises already," said Ernie. "We'll have to dash soon, but I did want you to know—before the train gets in—that my mum is going to be a teacher this year. It's a real nightmare, I know—believe me, I had a few choice words to say when she told me yesterday—but it's done. This stupid High Inquisition... well, she's one of the only qualified floramancers in the country and with Wandwright's closed..." He sighed. "Well, she'll be a teacher this year, and she's been dying to see you again, so I wanted to warn you before she did something silly like hug you in front of everyone or... well, you know how she is," he said, and made a vague gesture.

"Thanks for the warning," Harry said, "but I like your mum, anyway. She's nice." A bit dippy, as his aunt would say, but nice. And she had given him a positively glowing reference for the trial, so Harry thought she'd earned a little bit of silliness.

"Get back to me after the end of the year," said Ernie with a little smile. "Well, we'd best be off—and I think Greengrass wants you back, so you'd best go, too."

"Yeah. See you later, then," Harry said. He re-joined Daphne who'd been stood at the far end of the compartment alone after the other Slytherins had left.

"We should start our patrol now," Daphne said without preamble. "Shafiq and Farley want us to cover the dining carriage—I know it's closed, but we're supposed to make sure no one tries to get in." She paused. "But we can nip back to our compartment to get our uniforms on first."

Harry sighed. He'd wanted a nice relaxing journey to school, some time to chat with everyone, maybe lunch in the dining carriage... and instead, he got Draco sporting a cursed scar, a seemingly endless list of prefect duties, and no lunch to boot.