Dreams Are Falling Short

I found myself daydreaming about Hogwarts more and more as the end of the holidays approached; I couldn’t wait to see Hagrid again, to play Quidditch, even to stroll across the vegetable patches to the Herbology greenhouses; it would be a treat just to leave this dusty, musty house, where half of the cupboard were still bolted shut and Kreacher wheezed insults out of the shadows as you passed.

The fact was that living at the Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement was not nearly as interesting or exciting as I would have expected before I’d experienced it. Though members of the Order of the Phoenix came and went regularly, sometimes stay for meals, sometimes only for a few minutes of whispered conversation, Mrs Weasley made sure that we were kept well out of earshot (whether Extendable or normal).

On the very last day of the holidays I was helping Harry sweep up the owl droppings from the top of the wardrobe – for Calandra wouldn’t leave Hedwig’s side – when Ron entered the room carrying a couple of envelopes.

“Booklists have arrived,” he said, throwing two of the envelopes up to us, because we were standing on chairs. “About time, I thought they’d forgotten, they usually come earlier than this...”

Harry swept the last of the droppings into a rubbish bag which I was holding and I threw it over Ron’s head into the wastepaper basket in the corner, which swallowed it and belched loudly. I then opened my letter. It contained two pieces of parchment: one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September; the other telling me which books I would need for the coming year.

“Only two new ones,” I said, reading the list, while flipping my chair around and sitting on it backwards, “’The standard Book of Spells, Grade 5’, by Miranda Goshawk, and ‘Defensive Magical Theory’, but Wilbert Slinkhard.”

Crack.

Fred and George Apparated right beside me.

“We were just wondering who set the Slinkhard book,” said Fred conversationally.

“Because it means Dumbledore’s found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” said George.

“And about time too,” said Fred.

“What d’you mean?” Harry said, jumping down from his chair to stand beside the twins.

“Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back,” Fred told Harry, “and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year.”

“Not surprising, is it, when you look at what’s happened to the last four?” said George.

“One sacked, one dead, one’s memory removed and on locked in a trunk for nine months,” I said, counting them off on my fingers.

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” said Harry.

“What’s up with you, Ron?” asked Fred.

Ron didn’t answer. I looked around. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.

“What’s the matter?” said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment.

Fred’s mouth fell open, too.

“Prefect?” he said, staring incredulously at the letter. “Prefect?”

George leapt forwards, seized the envelope in Ron’s other hand and turned it upside down. I saw something scarlet and gold fall into George’s palm.

“No way,” said George in a hushed voice.

“There’s been a mistake,” said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron’s grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. “No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect.”

The twins’ head turned in unison and both of them stared at Harry.

“We thought you were a cert!” said Fred, in a tone that suggested Harry had tricked them in some way.

“We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!” said George indignantly.

“Winning the Triwizard and everything!” said Fred.

“I suppose all the mad stuff must’ve counted against him,” said George to Fred.

“Yeah,” said Fred slowly. “Yeah, you’ve caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you’s got their priorities right.”

“I told you both,” I said, standing up, and watching as Fred strode over to Harry and clapped him on the back while giving Ron a scathing look.

“Well, we knew you weren’t going to get Prefect, Blondie,” George commented. “At least we were right about one thing.”

“Prefect... ickle Ronnie the Prefect,” said Fred, grinning.

“Ohh, Mum’s going to be revolting,” groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him.

Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, then held it out to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it, and I could see that it had a large ‘P’ that was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion.

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her checks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand.

“Did you – did you get -?”

She spotted the badge in Harry’s hand and let out a shriek.

“I knew it!” she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. “Me too, Harry, me too!”

“No,” said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron’s hand. “It’s Ron, not me.”

“It’s – what?”

“Ron’s prefect, not me,” Harry said.

“Ron?” said Hermione, her jaw dropping. “But ... are you sure? I mean –“

She turned red as Ron looked around at her with a defiant expression on his face.

“It’s my name on the letter,” he said.

“I...” said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. “I... well... wow! Well done, Ron! That’s really –“

“Unexpected,” I said, nodding.

“No,” said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, “no it’s not... Ron’s done loads of... he’s really...”
The door behind her opened a little wider and Mrs Weasley backed into the room carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes.

“Ginny said the booklists had come at last,” she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. “If you give them to me I’ll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you’re packing. Ron I’ll have to get you more pyjamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can’t believe how fast you’re growing... what colour would you like?”

“Get him red and gold to match his badge,” I said, smirking.

“Match his what?” said Mrs Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron’s pile.

“His badge,” said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. “His lovely shiny new prefect’s badge.”

Fred’s words took a moment to penetrate Mrs Weasley’s pre-occupation with pyjamas.
“His... but... Ron, you’re not...?”

Ron held up his badge.

Mrs Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s, and I scrunched up my face.

“I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That’s everyone in the family!”

“What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?” said George indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.

“There, there,” I said mockingly, patting George’s arm.

“Wait until your father hears! Ron, I’m so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it’s the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I’m just thrilled, oh, Ronnie –“

Fred, George and I all made loud retching noises behind Molly’s back, but she didn’t notice; arms tight around Ron’s neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which has turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.

“Mum... don’t... Mum, get a grip...” he muttered, trying to push her away.

She let go of him and said breathlessly, “Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you’ve already got one, of course.”

“W-what do you mean?” said Ron, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears.

“You’ve got to have a reward for this!” said Mrs Weasley fondly. “How about a nice new set of dress robes?”

“We’ve already bought him some,” said Fred sourly, who looked as though he sincerely regretted this generosity.

“Or a new cauldron, Charlie’s old one’s rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers –“

“Mum,” said Ron hopefully, “can I have a new broom?”

Mrs Weasley’s face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive.

“Not a really good one!” Ron hastened to add. “Just – just a new one for a change...”

Mrs Weasley hesitated, then smiled.

“Of course you can... well, I’d better get going if I’ve got a broom to buy too. I’ll see you all later... little Ronnie... oh, I’m all of a dither!”

She gave Ron yet another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room.

Fred and George exchanged looks.

“You don’t mind if we don’t kiss you, do you, Ron?” said Fred in a falsely anxious voice.

“We could curtsey, if you like,” said George.

“Oh, shut up,” said Ron, scowling at them.

“Or what?” said Fred, an evil grin spreading across his face. “Going to put us in detention?”

“I’d love to see him try,” sniggered George.

“Boys, be nice,” I said softly.

“He could if you don’t watch out!” said Hermione angrily.

The twins burst out laughing, and Ron muttered, “Drop it, Hermione.”

“We’re going to have to watch our step now, George - Corey,” said Fred, pretending to tremble, “with these two on our case...”

“Yeah, it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over,” said George, shaking his head.

I mouthed a sorry at Ron, before Fred grabbed my hand and he Apparated up to our room upstairs. They fell on George’s bed together, roaring with laughter and I couldn’t help but join in. I jumped onto the bed as well, not wanting to be excluded. I lay in the middle of the twins, and our laughter slowly subsided.

“You really should be nice to him though,” I mused half-heartedly.

“Oh, we are,” said George, poking my side.

“Don’t,” I warned, my hand reaching out automatically, and my body moving away from George.

“Oh, why not?” George said, poking my side again.

“You know I will hex you, even if I’m not of age,” I said, pulling out the new wand I had gotten the first day of the holidays (14 inches, Cypress with Dragon Core, not very bendy).

“You heard the lady,” Fred said, wrapping his arms around my waist and rolling me across his body, so that he was in between me and his brother.

“You’re no fun, Freddie,” George whined, crossing his arms.

“I beg to differ,” Fred said, while I crawled on to his chest so that I could see both of the twins, “and yet again, you’re acting like a child,” he added to me.

“Am not; George, tell him I’m not a child,” I said, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes.

“No can do, Blondie; you wouldn’t let me tickle you. Now if you were to do that...”

I thought about it for a moment, resting my chin on my crossed arms. “I suppose –“

I didn’t even get to finish before George attacked me, causing me to die in a fit of giggles.