‘I'm going to get started on some homework,’

‘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.