There was like an awkward tension in the air over the next few days. Harry and I had an unspoken truce about the ‘conversation’ the two of us had. I somehow managed to annoy everyone in existence.

And before we knew it, I was sitting annoyed in the middle of Harry’s trial. I kept trying to focus on what was happening, but I was so cut by what he said, part of me wanted to let him be expelled.

Shame on me.

Bad sister.

Anyway, Dumbledore was talking, doing his stuff, as I sat on a random chair somewhere to the side of the court room. It was weird that they had a full court to judge a fifteen year old who cast a spell. I mean, if he killed someone, I get it. But he didn’t so why do they need all these people?

They listened to Harry’s neighbour, and then it was my turn to speak.

“You’re aware of Willow’s connection to Harry Potter.” Dumbledore stated.

“They’re siblings, yes-“Fudge said like a douche.

“I am referring to the magical connection that gives Willow the ability to apparate to him.”

“I haven’t seen evidence of this.”

“What does it matter? I was there. That much is known; under what circumstances is unimportant.” I said moodily.

“It is relevant because it shows that you were there that night.” Fudge spat.

“Well, I apparated. Whoopty do.”

“It is impossible to apparate underage.”

“You think it was impossible for Voldemort to rise from the dead, but he did that.”

There were murmurs across the room, and I could feel every eye on me.

“So were there Dementors?” Amelia Bones said to me, changing the topic. I think she was the Judge. I hadn’t payed much attention.

“Yep.”

“And why didn’t you try to attack them?”

“Because I didn’t have my wand.”

“Did you have it while you apparated?”

“No.”

There were murmurs around the room again.

“You are aware, are you not, that apparation requires one to possess a wand. Unless you were participating in side-long apparation.” Bones said.

“Well, I still did it. What difference does it make?”

 “She lies!” Fudge said. “You can’t have been there. It’s impossible.”

I got to my feet and placed my wand on the floor, begging for this to work.

Please work.

I felt myself being rammed into a tube and then I turned up sitting in-between Fudge and Amelia Bones. “What were you saying?”

I kept my expression blank as I walked back to my seat; Ignoring the voices that continued to mutter and work-out how I had apparated without a wand. However, on the inside I was having a party. I JUST APPARATED INTENTIONALLY AND GAVE MY SELF SOME SERIOUS SWAG! YAY!

“So I was there, without a wand, and I would have had my soul sucked out if Harry hadn’t performed that charm. It was a life or worse-than-death situation. K thanks bye.” And I stalked back over to my other seat.

Anyway, I tuned out until the end of the hearing when Harry was let off.

Well, I think the ministry hates me. That’s nice.

We walked off with Mr. Weasley, and he was chatting to Harry about something that I couldn’t care about. I only looked up when the pair of them both stopped talking.

Cornelius Fudge was standing a few feet away from us, talking quietly to a tall man with sleek blond hair and a pointed, pale face. The second man turned at the sound of our footsteps. He too broke off in mid-conversation, his cold gray eyes narrowed and fixed upon Harry’s face.

“Well, well, well . . . Patronus Potter,” said Lucius Malfoy coolly.

Last time I saw Lucius Malfoy it had been in the graveyard where his last words to me were: “Fine, die then.”

“The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter,” drawled Mr. Malfoy. “Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes. . . . Snakelike, in fact . . .”

 “Yeah,” said Harry, “yeah, I’m good at escaping. . . .”

Malfoy looked at me.

“Yo.”

“Miss Willow Potter-“

“It’s Mrs Willow Potter. I married my cat last weekend.”

“Still talking about stupid things at inappropriate times, I see.” He snarled.

“Least I don’t grovel at people’s feet begging for forgiveness.” I smiled as his expression turned from pride to loathing.

I love me.

“And Arthur Weasley too! What are you doing here, Arthur?”

“I work here,” said Mr. Weasley shortly.

“Not here, surely?” said Mr. Malfoy, raising his eyebrows and glancing toward the door over Mr. Weasley’s shoulder. “I thought you were up on the second floor. . . . Don’t you do something that involves sneaking Muggle artifacts home and bewitching them?”

“No,” said Mr. Weasley curtly.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Harry asked Lucius Malfoy.

“I don’t think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Potter,” said Malfoy, smoothing the front of his robes; I distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. “Really, just because you are Dumbledore’s favourite boy, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us...”

“Harry, he’s just here paying everyone off so they’ll forget the fact that he’s a death eater.” I smiled at Malfoy but it didn’t reach my eyes.

“You have the most peculiar sense of humour.”

“I’m still trying to work out how the scum of the Earth has so much money. Oh, silly me, it’s Voldemort setting it up for you.”

By this point the minister’s mouth was hanging open and he looked ten times as stupid as he normally did.

“Shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?”

“Certainly,” said Fudge, turning his back on us. “This way, Lucius.”

They strode off together, talking in low voices.

And the three of us stalked off to the lift.

“Willow, for the love of god.” Mr. Weasley said. “You just can’t say that sort of stuff around here. Don’t accuse-“

“I’m not accusing, I’m being realistic.”

“Lucius Malfoy could order them to do anything to you-“

“He can’t hurt me.” I said with satisfaction.

“I wouldn’t doubt what Malfoy would do.”

“Why wasn’t he waiting outside Fudge’s office if they’ve got business to do together?” Harry burst out furiously. “What was he doing down here?”

“Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me,” said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely agitated as he glanced over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard. “Trying to find out whether you’d been expelled or not. I’ll leave a note for Dumbledore when I drop you off, he ought to know Malfoy’s been talking to Fudge again.”

“What private business have they got together anyway?”

“Gold, I expect,” said Mr. Weasley angrily. “Malfoy’s been giving generously to all sorts of things for years. . . . Gets him in with the right people . . . then he can ask favours . . . delay laws he doesn’t want passed . . . Oh, he’s very well connected, Lucius Malfoy. . . .”

The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr. Weasley’s head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut; he waved them away irritably.

“Mr. Weasley,” said Harry slowly, “if Fudge is meeting Death Eaters like Malfoy, if he’s seeing them alone, how do we know they haven’t put the Imperius Curse on him?”

“Don’t think it hadn’t occurred to us, Harry,” muttered Mr. Weasley. “But Dumbledore thinks Fudge is acting of his own accord at the moment — which, as Dumbledore says, is not a lot of comfort.

. . . Best not talk about it anymore just now, Harry. . . .”

We went home and everyone was like ‘yay for Harry’ and I was like ‘I hate everyone’ and yeah.  I’m the most positive person who ever lived.

I continued with my totally positive streak over the next week until our booklists arrived. Hermione was a Prefect and was screaming and it was really cute, even my insane moodiness couldn’t prevent me from smiling at her.

I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but this is what I managed to get from it:

Mum

Dad

Proud

Harry

Ron

Prefect

Me

‘eek’

Oh my god

And finally at the end she said to me; “You expected this didn’t you?”

“Well who else would it be?” I said rolling my eyes. “Pavarti, who would probably just make all of us have to wear a galleon of make-up every day. Lavender, who would make everyone pose for slutty pictures before dinner. Me, who-“ I grinned. “the things I would do...”

“I bet Dumbledore thought of that.” Hermione smirked.

“No, he didn’t. You’re just brilliant, so you were chosen without a second thought.”

“AWW!” and I was tackled into a hug.

“Let’s see if either of the boys got it. I bet its Harry.”

“I hope its Ron.” I said. “And that’s not even because I’m bitchy.” I added, seeing Hermione’s reproachful look. “Ron actually deserves it. Don’t you think?”

“hmm,” she shrugged, and we walked into their room.

Harry had the badge in his hand, and Hermione shrieked and I felt my face turn into a world number one scowl.

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

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

“It — 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,” said George, nodding.

“No,” said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, “no, it’s not . . .Ron’s done loads of . . . he’s really...”

After a moment of shock, my face broke into a smile.

“CONGRATS RON!”

I gave him a hug which clearly took him by surprise. Hey, I don’t usually hug Ron.

Weird....

The door behind Shemione 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 pajamas, 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,” said George, 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 preoccupation about pajamas.

“His . . . but . . . Ron, you’re not. . . ?”

Ron held up his badge.

Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione’s.

“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?” said George indignantly, as his mother 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 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 and George were both making loud retching noises behind               their mother’s back, and I was finding it very hard not to laugh.

“Mum . . . don’t . . . Mum, get a grip. . . .” Ron 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, a prefect! And don’t forget to pack your trunks. . . . A prefect . . . 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 curtsy, 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.

“He could if you don’t watch out!” said Hermione angrily, at which Fred and George burst out laughing and Ron muttered, “Drop it, Hermione.”

“We’re going to have to watch our step, George,” 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. And with another loud crack, the twins Disapparated.

“Those two!” said Hermione furiously, staring up at the ceiling, through which they could now hear Fred and George roaring with laughter in the room upstairs. “Don’t pay any attention to them, Ron,

they’re only jealous!”

“I don’t think they are,” said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. “They’ve always said only prats become prefects. . . . Still,” he added on a happier note, “they’ve never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose. . . . She’ll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there’s the new Cleansweep out, that’d be great. . . .Yeah, I think I’ll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows....”

Hermione, Harry and someone who, though smiling, was a sulky little bitch. I just insulted myself didn’t I?

 “Harry?” said Hermione tentatively.

“Well done,” said Harry, so heartily it did not sound like his voice at all, and still not looking at her. “Brilliant. Prefect. Great.”

“Thanks,” said Hermione. “Erm — Harry — could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They’ll be really pleased — I mean, prefect is something they can understand —”

“Yeah, no problem,” said Harry, still in the horrible hearty voice that did not belong to him. “Take her!”

Harry didn’t turn around until Hermione and Hedwig were gone, but gave a start as he saw me standing there.

“Forgot about prefects too?” I asked him with a small smile and he nodded. Wait, was I just nice? “You thought you’d get it didn’t you?”

Harry didn’t make eye contact, but buried his face in his hands. Not in like a sad way, in a ‘oh my god what’s wrong with me’ way.

I sat beside him on the bed.

“I know everything that’s going through your head Harry.” I said, putting my arm around him. “Ahh, your thoughts hurt. So what? Ron got to be a Prefect and you didn’t. Whoopty do. Isn’t that fair? People grew up knowing your name, you were on the Quidditch field at eleven. You’re famous and popular. Then there’s Ron. Overlooked most of the time. He’s got five brother’s standards to live up to. He’s best friend is famous. That’s why you two fought last year, because it was overwhelming for him. This is his time to shine. Don’t stuff it up for him okay?”

We heard Ron coming up the stairs, and Harry stood up with a smile on his face, as I lay on the ground.

Ron bounded back through the door.

“Just caught her!” he said happily. “She says she’ll get the Cleansweep if she can.”

“Cool,” Harry said; he’d stopped sounding hearty. “Listen — Ron — well done, mate.”

The smile faded off Ron’s face.

“I never thought it would be me!” he said, shaking his head, “I thought it would be you!”

“Nah, I’ve broken the rules so many times.”

“I need to pack my trunk,” I said, and I army crawled out of the room. Harry shut the door behind me.

“You know,” I heard Ron’s voice through the door. “When I found out I got it, I thought Willow would too...”

I stood up, and walked quickly away because I had a feeling whatever Harry would reply would piss me off.

                                                                                *** *** ***

Down in the basement for dinner, Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read “Congratulations Ron and Hermione — new prefects.”

 She looked in a better mood than I’d seen her all holiday.

“I thought we’d have a little party, not a sit-down dinner,” she told us as we entered the room. “Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I’ve sent them both owls and they’re thrilled,” she added, beaming.

George rolled his eyes, and I hit him.

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly after I’d got myself a butterbeer.

“Oh, Alastor, I am glad you’re here,” said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his travelling cloak. “We’ve been wanting to ask you for ages — could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what’s inside it? We haven’t wanted to open it just in case it’s something really nasty.”

“No problem, Molly . . .”

Moody’s electric-blue eye swivelled upward and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen.

“Drawing room . . .” he growled, as the pupil contracted. “Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it. . . . Yeah, it’s a Boggart. Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?”

“No, no, I’ll do it myself later,” beamed Mrs. Weasley. “You have your drink. We’re having a little bit of a celebration, actually. . . .” She gestured at the scarlet banner. “Fourth prefect in the family!” she said fondly, ruffling Ron’s hair.

“Prefect, eh?” growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head.

“Well, congratulations,” said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, “authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he

wouldn’t have appointed you. . . .”

Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them too; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody’s travelling cloak.

“Well, I think a toast is in order,” said Mr. Weasley, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. “To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!”

Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them and then

applauded.

“I was never a prefect myself,” said Tonks brightly from behind me as everybody moved toward the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato-red and waist length today; she looked like

Ginny’s older sister. “My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities.”

“Like what?” said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato.

“Like the ability to behave myself,” said Tonks. Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it.

“What about you, Sirius?” Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back.

Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual bark-like laugh.

“No one would have made me a prefect; I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.”

“I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends,” said Lupin. “I need scarcely say that I failed dismally.”

I piled my plate sky high, and demolished it in about five seconds.

I realised I was sitting by myself at the table. I’m so popular.

“Hi Willow, how are you?” I asked myself. “Not bad. How are you? Quite dandy!”

“And someone’s lost their mind.” Lupin’s voice said from beside me.

I turned and he was sitting there.

“Don’t be silly, I never had a mind to lose.” I smiled.

“So how have your holidays been?” Lupin asked, helping himself to some chicken.

“Yeah not bad, Hermione’s parents kicked me out. Mundungus acted like a rapist and then knocked me out. I had a concussion and a week-long headache. Umm, I’ve been cooped up here for ages. Oh, there was a Dementor attack. I had to go to Harry’s hearing...umm...oh yeah, I apparated by will.” I made it sound as though none of these things were remotely interesting. “That about sums it up. Not a bad holiday if you ask me. Less dramatic than some.”

“Less dramatic?” Lupin smiled shaking his head at me.

“Well, before I went to Hogwarts they pulled me from the Malfoy’s house. Then at the end of that year I was stabbed – oh that’s when I met you – then I had to spend some of that time at Snape’s. Err, then I spent the next lot in Diagon alley. I went a bit nuts there...oh and then I had the Quidditch world cup.” I stopped and stared at Lupin. “I talk a lot.”

“Today, you haven’t spoken hardly for the last three weeks...Since Harry arrived...” Lupin surveyed me and I decided to do stupid things because that’s more fun.

I poked my nose and made fart noises. This entertained me for quite a while. You should try it.

“Willow, don’t be stupid.”

“Impossible.”

“What made you upset?”

“I wasn’t upset.”

“Then why were you quiet?”

“What?”

“The only time you’re quiet is when you’re injured, asleep, or upset.”

“Aren’t I allowed to be quiet?”

“What’s bothering you?” Lupin asked me.

“Nothing!” I snapped, and I stalked off up the stairs and met Harry.

“Hello?” Harry’s voice called.

For a moment I thought he was talking to me, but he wasn’t. I walked over to where he was standing – by the drawing room and I heard sobs. We walked into the drawing room.

Someone was cowering against the dark wall, her wand in her hand, her whole body shaking with sobs. Sprawled on the dusty old carpet in a patch of moonlight, clearly dead, was Ron.

I felt everything go numb, but then I realised Ron couldn’t be dead, he’s downstairs.

“R-r-riddikulus!’’ Mrs. Weasley sobbed, pointing her shaking wand at Ron’s body.

Crack.

Ron’s body turned into Bill’s, spread-eagled on his back, his eyes wide open and empty. Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever.

“Mrs. Weasley?” Harry croaked.

“R-riddikulus!” she sobbed again.

Crack.

Mr. Weasley’s body replaced Bill’s, his glasses askew, a trickle of blood running down his face.

“No!” Mrs. Weasley moaned. “No . . . riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS!”

Crack. Dead twins. Crack. Dead Percy. Crack. Dead Harry. Crack. Dead Hermione. Crack. Dead me.

You think it’d be weird seeing your own corpse on the ground, but after something similarly weird happened in my second year, it’s a pretty common thing to happen.

“Mrs. Weasley, just get out of here!” shouted Harry. “Let someone else —”

“What’s going on?”

Lupin had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius, with Moody stumping along behind them. Lupin looked from Mrs. Weasley to the dead Willow on the floor and seemed to understand in an instant. Pulling out his own wand he said, very firmly and clearly, “Riddikulus!”

MY body vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Lupin waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Oh — oh — oh!” gulped Mrs. Weasley, and she broke into a storm of crying, her face in her hands.

“Molly,” said Lupin bleakly, walking over to her, “Molly, don’t . . .” Next second she was sobbing her heart out on Lupin’s shoulder.  “Molly, it was just a boggart,” he said soothingly, patting her on the head. “Just a stupid boggart . . .”

“I see them d-d-dead all the time!” Mrs. Weasley moaned into his shoulder. “All the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it . . .”

Sirius was staring at the patch of carpet where the boggart, pretending to be my body, had lain. Moody was looking at Harry, who avoided his gaze.

“D-d-don’t tell Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley was gulping now, mopping her eyes frantically with her cuffs. “I d-d-don’t want him to know. . . . Being silly . . .”

Lupin handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose.

“I’m so sorry, what must you think of me?” she said shakily. “Not even able to get rid of a Boggart...”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Harry, trying to smile, but kind of grimacing instead.

“I’m just s-s-so worried,” she said, tears spilling out of her eyes again. “Half the f-f-family’s in the Order, it’ll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this. . . . and P-P-Percy’s not talking to us. . . . What if something d-d-dreadful happens and we had never m-m-made up? And what’s going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who’s g-g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?”

“Molly, that’s enough,” said Lupin firmly. “This isn’t like last time. The Order is better prepared, we’ve got a head start, we know what Voldemort’s up to —”

Mrs. Weasley gave a little squeak of fright at the sound of the name.

“Oh, Molly, come on, it’s about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time, you weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one. . . .”

“Don’t worry about Percy,” said Sirius abruptly. “He’ll come round. It’s a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry’s going to be begging us to forgive them. And I’m not sure I’ll be accepting their apology,” he added bitterly.

“And as for who’s going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died,” said Lupin, smiling slightly, “what do you think we’d do, let them starve?”

Mrs. Weasley smiled tremulously.

“Being silly,” she muttered again, mopping her eyes.

But as I went to bed twenty minutes later couldn’t think Mrs. Weasley silly. It’s pretty likely that we’ll all die. Everyone dies. And with Voldemort around, we’ll die before our time. Look at Cedric, my parents, and countless others. How is it fair?

 I felt tears prick my eyes as Soxy curled up beside me.

“Oh bubby,” I said softly, stroking his fur. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”