Harry told Neville and Luna about the dementor attack and the tragedy that had befallen Dudley. They were horrified at Dudley's fate and Harry's narrow escape. Harry asked them politely to spread the true story around if they heard others badmouthing him about his cousin's death.
Thirty minutes into the trip, Hermione stood and announced that she and Ron had a prefects' meeting to attend. Harry had forgotten that fifth years could be awarded prefect status, and hadn't even noticed the golden P that was on Hermione's robes.
"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "You should have said something. I didn't know…congratulations, you two."
"Thank you, Harry," said Hermione, smiling sadly at him again. Ron just grunted and nodded.
"We should be back soon," she said, and the two newly-minted Gryffindor prefects left the compartment.
Harry had given no thought to the prospect of becoming a prefect, but now that the honor had been given to Ron…well, he had to admit that he felt slighted. The prefect positions, while not exactly glamorous, did reflect the confidence that the Hogwarts staff had in their selections. For them to choose Ron over him—Ron, who could be unthinkingly selfish and lazy—well, that hurt just a little bit. I guess this is a good thing, sighed Harry. At least I'll have more free time to train and read.
While Hermione and Ron were gone, Harry played absentmindedly with his wand and tried to strike up a conversation with Ginny. He asked her more questions about her summer, and what classes she was taking, but his questions elicited little more than deep blushes and short, hurried responses. I'm terrible at this, he thought. He wanted to get to know Ginny better, maybe even add her to their trio, but the awkwardness of his attempts to converse with her made him give up in frustration. Luna's suggestion that Harry's hair may be infested with nargles was the death knell for his efforts.
Ron and Hermione mercifully returned an hour later, but they weren't alone. Trailing in their wake was a pair of tall, smirking twins.
"All hail the New Dark Lord," exclaimed one red-headed menace loudly as he entered the compartment.
"All hail," repeated his twin. Both boys kneeled at Harry's feet, bowing their heads in mock submission.
Hermione looked horrified at their behavior, but Harry grinned at them, having expected something like this.
"You may rise, my faithful servants," Harry intoned deeply. "Your first task for me is to acquire the pelt of a blond ferret, on which I shall rest my evil feet while I contemplate world domination."
"Consider it done…" said Fred, rising.
"…My Lord," added George, aping his twin.
Ginny giggled at their antics, and soon everyone was trying to hide a smile.
"Does this mean we're going to prank Malfoy without mercy this year?" inquired Ron eagerly.
The twins looked at each other.
"Well…"
"WE, little brother, are going to obey the commands…"
"Of our Lord and Master." A nod in Harry's direction.
"YOU would only hinder…"
"The genius of our work."
"So, to answer your question…yes," smiled George.
"And no," added Fred.
Harry laughed as they did a military about-face and saluted him. Ron's temper was heating up at being insulted, but he knew better than to annoy the twins.
"See you around, Harry. We're going to go find some more prefects to annoy," said George.
And with that, the two left the compartment.
Now that they had returned from their meeting, Ron and Hermione wanted to rant about the other prefects. It seemed that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had been selected as the Slytherin prefects, a move that everyone should have expected but that still seemed outrageous. Now every Gryffindor could expect increased harassment from Slytherin House.
When Ron finally stopped swearing that he'd give Malfoy detention every day—Hermione hadn't bothered to remind him that he couldn't do that—the topic of conversation turned to the disappearance of Emmanuel Ollivander.
A week ago Ollivander had failed to open his shop. He hadn't opened it the next day, either, or the day after that. "Ollivander's Wands" was an institution in Diagon Alley, and the old man's disappearance had caused problems almost immediately for incoming Hogwarts students. A few young witches and wizards, mostly muggleborns, had yet to purchase their new wands. They had been forced to rummage through second-hand wands in other stores or to go to inferior wand shops in the shadier Knockturn Alley.
The Ministry had finally gotten involved, and the Daily Prophet had printed an official statement declaring that Mr. Ollivander had gone on holiday and would return to his shop soon. That had reassured most people, but it was still unnerving to pass by Ollivander's shop and see a huge "CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE" sign on its front window. Practically everyone in the British magical world had met Ollivander, and his absence from Diagon Alley seemed somehow ominous.
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