PRIORI INCANTATEM

8. Fun-time Up!

(A/N: Thanks for all the love and support, guys. I promise I'll update more frequently from now  on.

These holidays had taken Harry to an altogether different world — something he had imagined earlier only in dreams — things were out of reach for him. He couldn't remember his miserable days at the Dursleys anymore. He got along amazingly well with his parents, Sirius and Remus that he felt as if he had spent all his lives with them. Remus was now in Harry's secret of him being an Animagus. The three Marauders had often taken him to the Potter Manor in the past few days, which had a huge open area and a large swimming pool, and now Harry had perfected all his forms. Potter Manor had not been discovered by anyone after his parents' death because James was the secret keeper of that place and he had not revealed its secret to anyone except Lily. Now, as the vacations were drawing to an end, Harry could not believe he had to go back to Hogwarts. The Triwizard Tournament seemed to have occurred ages back. He would also terribly miss Snitch, the puppy, who had become apple of everyone's eyes, and Harry's pride.

On the very last day of the holidays, Harry was playing with Snitch and was pondering upon the events of these last two months when Ron entered their bedroom carrying a couple of envelopes.

"Booklists have arrived," he said, throwing one of the envelopes up to Harry, who was standing on a chair. "About time, I thought they'd forgotten . . . they usually come much earlier than this. . . ."

Harry opened his letter: It contained two pieces of parchment, one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September, the other telling him which books he would need for the coming year.

"Only two new ones," he said, reading the list. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard."

Crack.

Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that he didn't even fall off his chair.

"We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book," said Fred conversationally.

"Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," said George.

"And about time too," said Fred.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back," Fred told Harry, "and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?" said George.

"One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months," said Harry, counting them off on his fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"What's up with you, Ron?" asked Fred.

Ron did not answer. Harry looked around. Ron was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts.

"What's the matter?" said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment.

Fred's mouth fell open too.

"Prefect?" he said, staring incredulously at the letter. "Prefect?"

George leapt forward, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand, and turned it upside down. Harry saw something scarlet and gold fall into George's palm.

"No way," said George in a hushed voice.

"There's been a mistake," said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. "No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect. . . ."