Chapter Three: Perfect Prefect Percy's 'Prentice
On August 31st, the booklists arrived for every Hogwarts student that was staying in the Burrow. Fred came in carrying three envelopes and saying, "Booklists have arrived." He handed them one to George and one to Harish. Then the three of them opened their envelopes.
"It's about time too," George muttered. "I thought they'd forgotten—they usually come much earlier than this…"
Harish opened his letter and took out three pieces of parchment. One reminded him that the first day of term was on September 1st. The other was the list of books for the year. The third however, was not the usual letter that was sent out every year to every student. Harish stared at it and when the twins asked what was up, he replied faintly, "I'm Quidditch Captain."
"What?" the twins asked again, together.
"I'm Quidditch Captain!" he hopped off the bed and whooped happily. "See look," he shoved the letter under their noses and they both leaned back to read it.
"That's wonderful!" they both exclaimed.
Harish regained his composure and nodded. Then, he sat down and read through the list of books, positive the twins were doing the same.
"Only two new ones," Harish observed. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7, by Miranda Goshawk and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard…"
"Come on," Fred said standing up.
"Where?" Harish asked.
"Ron's room," George replied.
"Ron's room?" Harish asked as the twins disappeared with a crack. He shrugged and then Disapparated after them.
"We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book," Fred said conversationally.
"Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," George said.
"And about time too," Fred added.
"What do you mean?" Neville asked. Ron nudged him with his elbow and sent him a warning glance, but either Neville didn't notice, or he was ignoring it.
"Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back," Fred told Neville, "and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."
"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to all of them?" George asked.
"One deathly ill," Harish said, counting them all off on his fingers. "One retired (of course that's not all that interesting), one fleeing the castle after accused of stealing, one's memory removed, one sacked, and one locked in a trunk for nine months."
"Deathly ill?" Neville asked.
"Our first year Defense professor," Harish explained. "Don't even remember his name, now."
"What's up with you, Ron?" Fred asked.
Ron did not answer. Harish, Neville, and George looked around. Ron was standing very still with his mouth open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.
"Don't want to stay like that, Ron," George said. "You'll get flies in your mouth."
"What's the matter?" Fred asked curiously. He moved to look over Ron's shoulder at the parchment.
Fred's mouth fell open too.
"Prefect?" he asked, staring incredulously at the paper. "Prefect?"
George leapt forward, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand, and turned upside down. A gold and red badge fell into George's palm.
"No way," George said 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. He then looked at Ron, revolted. "Prefect…Ickle Ronnie the prefect…"
"Oh, Mum's going to be revolting," George groaned thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him.
"Just like Perfect Prefect Percy," Fred sneered.
"Don't compare me to him!" Ron suddenly protested, his ears bright red. "I would never…never!"
"What, betray your family? Well, Percy would be proud."
"Shut it!" Ron snarled.
"Or what?" Harish asked.
"What would you do?" Fred asked.
"Gonna rat us out to the Ministry?" George said, pretending to act frightened. "Oh, no! Save us! The Ministry has come for us!"
"I SAID SHUT IT!" Ron roared, his face now bright purple.
"Tut, tut," George said. "You ought to mind your superiors, Ronnie."
"Just because you're a prefect doesn't mean you can boss us around."
Ron suddenly drew his wand and in under a second, Harish and the twins had done the same. Ron froze at the sight of three wands pointed at his chest.
"Fine," he said, panting heavily as though he had just run a mile. He stowed his wand in his back pocket and held his hands out in front of him. "There, see? No wand."
The three seventeen-year-olds nodded and slowly tucked their own wands inside their sleeves (except Harish, who stuck his back into his cane). They stood there in tense silence for a moment before the door opened and Mrs. Weasley backed through it, carrying a basket full of laundry.
"Ginny said the booklists have 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 pajamas, these are at least six inches too short. I can't believe how fast you're growing…what color would you like?"
"Get him red and gold to match his badge," George said with a smirk.
"Match his what?" Mrs. Weasley asked absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile.
"His badge," said Fred. "His lovely shiny new prefect's badge."
Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley's preoccupation about pajamas.
"His…but…Ron, you're not…?"
Ron held up his badge.
Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek.
"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 neighbors?" George asked indignantly, but Mrs. Weasley pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son.
"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy like Bill, Quidditch Captain like Charlie—"
"King of Prats like Percy," Fred muttered.
"Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh Ronnie—"
Fred and George were making loud retching noises behind her back, but she did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing his all over his face, which had 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. Would you like an owl?"
"W-what do you mean?" Ron asked, looking as though he couldn't believe his ears.
"You've got to get a reward for this!" Mrs. Weasley responded fondly. "How about a nice set of new dress robes?"
"We've already bought him some," Fred said sourly, looking like he was sincerely regretting that choice now.
"Those were from you?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Or a new cauldron," Mrs. Weasley continued. "Charlie's old one is rusting through. Or a new rat! You always liked Scabbers-"
"Mum," Ron said hopefully. "Can I have a new broom?"
Mrs. Weasley's face fell slightly; broomsticks were expensive.
"Not a really good one!" Ron added hastily. "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, a prefect! Oh, it's so wonderful!"
She gave Ron another kiss on the cheek, sniffed loudly, and bustled from the room.
Fred and George exchanged looks.
"You don't mind if we kiss you, do you Ron?" Fred asked in a falsely anxious voice.
"We could curtsy if you like," George said.
"Oh, shut up," Ron said, scowling at them.
"Or what?" Fred asked, an evil grin spreading across his face. "Going to run to Percy? Put us in detention?"
"I'd like to see him try!" George sniggered.
"OUT!" Ron shouted, and the three of them Apparated to their room with a crack.