The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|63| Prefects

When the day came for Harry's hearing, everyone was a mess; mostly Mrs. Weasley and Sirius though. Of course, I was freaking out and could barely sleep as it is. Harry went off to the Ministry of Magic with Mr. Weasley to go to his hearing and then spend the day with him at work.

It was a quarter to six when Harry and Mr. Weasley came back.

"I knew it!" yelled Ron, punching the air. "You always get away with stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," said Hermione, who had looked positively faint with anxiety when Harry had entered the kitchen and was now holding a shaking hand over her eyes. "There was no case against you, none at all!"

"Yes! Yes! I had complete faith in you! Ahh," I squealed and give Harry a big hug.

"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I'd get off," said Harry, smiling.

Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face on her apron, and Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went "He got off, he got off, he got off—"

"That's enough, settle down!" shouted Mr. Weasley, though he too was smiling.

"Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry—"

"What?" said Sirius sharply.

"He got off, he got off, he got off—"

"Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely," said Sirius. "We'll tell him, don't worry."

"Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner—"

"He got off, he got off, he got off—"

"That's enough— Fred— George— Ginny!" said Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley left the kitchen. "Harry dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast..."

Ron, Hermione, and I sat down opposite of Harry looking happier than we had been since he had first arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kreacher looked less ugly as he poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise.

" 'Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you," said Ron happily, now dishing great mounds of mashed potatoes onto everyone's plates.

"Yeah, he swung it for me," said Harry. He felt that it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, "I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me."

I hissed and grabbed my shoulder as Harry clapped his hand over his forehead.

"What's up?" said Hermione, looking alarmed.

"Scar," I mumbled and Harry nodded curtly.

Hermione looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Ron said happily, "I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening to celebrate with us, you know."

"I don't think he'll be able to, Ron," said Mrs. Weasley, setting a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of Harry. "He's really very busy at the moment."

"HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF—"

"SHUT UP!" roared Mrs. Weasley.

On the very last day of the holidays, I was walking with Hermione and Ginny when Ron entered carrying a handful of envelopes.