, ‘it's bound to take time to—’
‘Who said it was me who made it lousy?’ snapped Ron.
‘No one,’ said Hermione, looking taken aback, ‘I thought—’
‘You thought I was bound to be rubbish?’
‘No, of course I didn't! Look, you said it was lousy so I just—’
‘I'm going to get started on some homework,’ said Ron angrily and stomped off to the staircase to the boys’ dormitories and vanished from sight. Hermione turned to Harry.
‘Was he lousy?’
‘No,’ said Harry loyally.
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
‘Well, I suppose he could've played better,’ Harry muttered, ‘but it was only the first training session, like you said ...’
Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to make much headway with their homework that night. Harry knew Ron was too preoccupied with how badly he had performed at Quidditch practice and he himself was having difficulty in getting
the ‘Gryffindor are losers’ chant out of his head.
They spent the whole of Sunday in the common room, buried in ! heir books while the room around them filled up, then emptied. It was another clear, fine day and most of their fellow Gryffindors spent the day out in the
grounds, enjoying what might well be some of the last sunshine that year. By the evening, Harry felt as though somebody had been beating his brain against the inside of his skull.
‘You know, we probably should try and get more homework done during the week,’ Harry muttered to Ron, as they finally laid aside Professor McGonagall's long essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell and turned miserably to
Professor Sinistra's equally long and difficult essay about Jupiter's many moons.
‘Yeah,’ said Ron, rubbing slightly bloodshot eyes and throwing his fifth spoiled bit of parchment into the fire beside them. ‘Listen ... shall we just ask Hermione if we can have a look at what she's done?’
Harry glanced over at her; she was sitting with Crookshanks on her lap and chatting merrily to Ginny as a pair of knitting needles flashed in midair in front of her, now knitting a pair of shapeless elf socks.
‘No,’ he said heavily, ‘you know she won't let us.’
And so they worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker. Slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. At half past eleven, Hermione wandered over to them, yawning.
‘Nearly done?’
‘No,’ said Ron shortly.
‘Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto,’ she said, pointing over Ron's shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, ‘and it's Io that's got the volcanoes.’
‘Thanks,’ snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.
‘Sorry, I only— ’
‘Yeah, well, if you've just come over here to criticise—’
‘Ron—’
‘I haven't got time to listen to a sermon, all right, Hermione, I'm up to my neck in it here— ’
‘No—look!’
Hermione was pointing to the nearest window. Harry and Ron both looked over. A handsome screech owl was standing on the windowsill, gazing into the room at Ron.
‘Isn't that Hermes?’ said Hermione, sounding amazed.
‘Blimey, it is!’ said Ron quietly, throwing down his quill and getting to his feet. ‘What's Percy writing to me for?’
He crossed to the window and opened it; Hermes flew inside, landed on Ron's essay and held out a leg to which a letter was attached. Ron took the letter off it and the owl departed at once, leaving inky footprints across
Ron's drawing of the moon Io.
‘That's definitely Percy's handwriting,’ said Ron, sinking back into his chair and staring at the words on the outside of the scroll: Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts. He looked up at the other two. ‘What d'you
reckon?’
‘Open it!’ said Hermione eagerly, and Harry nodded.
Ron unrolled the scroll and began to read. The further clown the parchment his eyes travelled, the more pronounced became his scowl. When he had finished reading, he looked disgusted. He thrust the letter at Harry and
Hermione, who leaned towards each other to read it together:
Dear Ron,
I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister for Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect.
I was most pleasantly surprised when f heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the ‘Fred and George’ route, rather than
following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility.
But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully, you will be able to read this away from prying
eyes and avoid awkward questions.
From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than
continued fraternisation with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this— no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favourite—but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in
charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very different—and probably more accurate—view of Potter's behaviour. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a
good idea of the way the wind is blowing—and see if you can spot yours truly!
Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school, too. As you must be aware, given that our father
escorted him to court, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality, if you ask me, and many of the people
I've spoken to remain convinced of his guilt.
It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Potter—I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent—but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter's behaviour that is troubling
you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a truly delightful woman who I know will be only too happy to advise you.
This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that, so
far, Professor Umbridge is encountering very little co-operation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next
week— again, see the Daily Prophet tomorrow!). I shall say only this—a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well-placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years!
I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticise our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around
Dumbledore. (If you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will
open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders.) I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people—the Minister really could not be more
gracious to me—and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents’ beliefs and actions, either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realise how mistaken they were and I
shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes.
Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect.
Your brother,
Percy
Harry looked up at Ron.
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