Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

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.
    ‘He could if you don’t watch out!’ said Hermione angrily.
    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 …’
    He dashed from the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.
    For some reason, Harry found he did not want to look at Hermione. He turned to his bed, picked up the pile of clean robes Mrs Weasley had laid on it and crossed the room to his trunk.
    ‘Harry?’ said Hermione tentatively.
    ‘Well done, Hermione,’ 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!’
    He leaned over his trunk, laid the robes on the bottom of it and pretended to be rummaging for something while Hermione crossed to the wardrobe and called Hedwig down. A few moments passed; Harry heard the door close but remained bent double, listening; the only sounds he could hear were the blank picture on the wall sniggering again and the wastepaper basket in the corner coughing up the owl droppings.
    He straightened up and looked behind him. Hermione had left and Hedwig had gone. Harry returned slowly to his bed and sank on to it, gazing unseeingly at the foot of the wardrobe.
    He had forgotten completely about prefects being chosen in the fifth year. He had been too anxious about the possibility of being expelled to spare a thought for the fact that badges must be winging their way towards certain people. But if he had remembered … if he had thought about it … what would he have expected?
    Not this , said a small and truthful voice inside his head.
    Harry screwed up his face and buried it in his hands. He could not lie to himself; if he had known the prefect badge was on its way, he would have expected it to come to him, not Ron. Did this make him as arrogant as Draco Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?
    No, said the small voice defiantly.
    Was that true? Harry wondered, anxiously probing his own feelings.
    I’m better at Quidditch , said the voice. But I’m not better at anything else.
    That was definitely true, Harry thought; he was no better than Ron in lessons. But what about outside lessons? What about those adventures he, Ron and Hermione had had together since starting at Hogwarts, often risking much worse than expulsion?
    Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time, said the voice in Harry’s head.
    Not all the time, though, Harry argued with himself. They didn’t fight Quirrell with me. They didn’t take on Riddle and the Basilisk. They didn’t get rid of all those Dementors the night Sirius escaped. They weren’t in that graveyard with me, the night Voldemort returned …
    And the same feeling of ill-usage that had overwhelmed him on the night he had arrived rose again. I’ve definitely done more, Harry thought indignantly. I’ve done more than either of them!
    But maybe , said the small voice fairly, maybe Dumbledore