Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived

Chapter Twelve - Head of the Class

Ron was still snoring loudly ten minutes before Professor McGonagall was scheduled to arrive in the Great Hall.

“Wake up,” Harry fumed as he shook Ron for the third time. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!” Harry didn’t realize he was shouting until Hermione appeared beside him.

“Move over,” she commanded. “I don’t want to be late.”

With a wave of her wand, Ron was doused in what Harry could only assume, from Hermione’s irritation, was ice cold water.

Ron, in a misguided attempt to protect his face, threw his arms up to block the water. He was shouting incoherently, as a steady stream of water pelted his now unprotected chest and stomach. He was struggling to get his legs out from underneath the comforter, which was soaking wet. When he was sufficiently incensed, and wide-awake, Hermione flicked her wand. The water stopped flowing instantaneously.

“You ruddy,” Ron bellowed. He blinked rapidly to clear the water from his eyes. He noticed it was Hermione who was holding the wand that was pointed at him. She stood with one hand on her hip and a very smug look on her face.

“You were saying?” she smirked. “Maybe next time you’ll get up on time.” She turned and left the tent, leaving a flustered Ron hanging half off the bed.

“She’s so…” Ron spluttered. “Why does she always have to be so…”

“She’s Hermione, Mate,” Harry replied, a rare grin on his face. “That’s why you love her.”

“What time is it?” Ron asked, running his fingers through his hair, flinging water droplets everywhere.

“McGonagall is bound to be here any moment,” Harry observed. “You’d better get dressed.”

Neville’s face appeared at the flap of the tent and his expression told them that Professor McGonagall was already there and waiting for them. “Professor McGonagall is here,” he announced.

Ron sprung from the bed like he had seen a spider on his pillow. He looked down at his pajamas, glanced at Harry and shrugged. Harry chuckled at Ron’s forlorn expression and took pity on him. He waved his wand and dried his pajamas.

“I’m going to check on Ginny,” he announced, leaving Ron to change clothes in private.

“Thanks, Mate,” Ron replied gratefully. “I’ll be out soon.”

Harry exited the tent, walking directly into Ginny. “Good morning,” he blurted, smiling bashfully. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept well. You?” She smiled back, relieving the tension that Harry felt.

“I’m used to the power saw by now.” Harry cocked his head toward the tent, indicating Ron who had just appeared at the flap.

“Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” Professor McGonagall called from the table. “Do get something to eat so that we may begin.”

“I’m starving,” Ron bellowed from he tent flap, “but I’ve got to talk to Harry for a minute. It’s urgent.” He shrank back into the tent at Hermione’s irritated look. “It is.”

Harry turned to Professor McGonagall to profess his apologies before jogging over to the tent flap to meet Ron.

Ginny shrugged, not able to explain their odd behavior, and sat down to eat breakfast.

“Mrs. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said quietly. “I will be back shortly with the other teachers. Will you make sure that everyone is ready when we return?”