Year Five - Chapter One

I watched the Hogwarts' owl arrive and wondered briefly why it felt heavier. It took me merely a couple of seconds of reading the extra letter to understand what the badge meant, and a strange chuckle settled on my lips as I reread the words a few times.

Being held at wand point by a renowned ex-duelist is an experience few would come to enjoy, but such was the heat and the passion with which Professor Flitwick nominated you for the position of Prefect, that I felt in danger for my own life if I refused. It is thus with a great sense of relief that I hope you will not return the Badge on your first day of Hogwarts, though as always, within the limits of whatever laws of authority you see fit to respect, you are free to do as you wish, Mister Umbrus.

However, should your freedom involve highly dangerous magical creatures, or participation into dangerous, potentially lethal tournaments, I plead you to consider your newly found responsibilities as a Prefect beforehand, which include, but are not limited, to the following...

What followed was a long, boring list. I still read it, because it was obvious I would have to perform in an exemplary manner to make up for Flitwick's expectations.

There were only a few new books, and the one for Defense Against the Dark Arts didn't ring any bells for me. Whoever the poor schmuck was, I wondered if the pink toad known as Umbridge would make an appearance or not. After all, there had been no resurrection of Voldemort, no evil rising up for the usual yearly plot and frankly, I liked it that way.

A peaceful, calm existence with a shadowy Voldemort in some remote corner of an Albanian's forest for the reminder of my lifetime would be a wonderful thing.

It was the Headmaster who accompanied me to get the school books, though this time, I actually wasn't eligible for the school fund since I had my own money. Perhaps it worked for the best, for it allowed me to step into Gringotts and glance at my bank account.

"Nifty," I said, staring at the piles of gold. "What's the local conversion rate for golden coins of Spanish origin?" I asked next, looking at the goblin that had brought us down there. The goblin rattled a number, and I politely asked if it was per piece or per kilogram. Once I received the answer, I gave the goblin a small nod.

The skip to my step as I walked out of there was barely noticeable. It was so barely noticeable I reckoned the Headmaster's own twinkling eyes told me he was amused about something. "Mister Umbrus," the Headmaster said gently, "You do realize that the Giant Squid cannot lawfully gift Hogwarts' property," I stared up at the headmaster, held my breath ever so briefly, and then slumped my shoulders.

He chuckled. "I supposed it was such a thing. You should rest assured. The goblins know when a student comes by with gold found in the depths of the Hogwarts' Lake they are to return it to us." He hummed. "They take it quite seriously, their task."

I sighed. "Well, guess that solves the mystery of why other students didn't strike it rich by befriending the Giant Squid," I rubbed the top of my head. "I've got some treasure chests to offload in the lake then."

The Headmaster chuckled at that, his eyes twinkling even as we went for the books. It was surprising how many wizards and witches would stop by to speak, or shake hands, with Dumbledore as we went by. Some he knew, and others he remembered after a brief moment of doubt. It was interesting how earnest the elderly man was in trying his best to remember everyone, in trying to keep up with their positive virtues and ignore the vices.

I could see the gleam, the whispers, the lamentations behind the words. Oh, my nephew's such a hardworking lad, but he can't find a job. Oh, my brother's good with charms, do you know anywhere they can employ him? My sister, my father, my mother-and on, and on they went, in the eternal game of Do Ut Des that formed the spine of any good politician's savoir fair.

And ironically enough, Dumbledore danced through them with the grace of a polecat, keeping the charm and the smile up on his face with every kind word, every instant in which he knew this or that guy willing to give a chance, only that; a honest chance at proving oneself, and nothing more, and nothing less, and then he'd move along.

"You know, Headmaster," I said offhandedly. "You're really kind," I furrowed my brows, "One day, I hope to be half as kind as you are. It would make me a saint."

Dumbledore chuckled, and then sighed. "Perhaps so, Mister Umbrus, but it is not kindness. It is merely doing what is right, and it is not always the easiest of choices."

I gave an awkward nod, and then ended up licking a Fortescue ice-cream and offering one to Dumbledore in turn. He went with a lemon-scented one, obviously.

Since I was apparently needed on the train so that an older Prefect could explain my duties, I'd grab a portkey made specifically to allow me to pop up at the train station, where I'd climb up early and make my way to the front. There I'd wait with my Prefect badge pinned to my chest for a Prefectier Prefect to show me the ropes of the job.

By my side, arriving only a bit later, was my fellow prefect of Ravenclaw. "Hey there Shade," she said, smiling softly. "Guess we both made it Prefect."

"That we did, Padma," I answered with a smile of my own.

Hufflepuff had Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, while Slytherin had Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

The Gryffindors had Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.

I serenely smiled at the sight of Harry wearing his Prefect badge, and meanwhile inwardly wondered just how much the sparks would fly back in the Gryffindors' rooms later on. Well, it wasn't my fault, and Ron was definitely a good person at heart. There also wouldn't be any Draco in Leather Pants for as long as I lived and breathed, so if Draco tried, just as much as tried, to bully anyone of the kids, I'd whoop him.

I'd whoop him so hard, even his father wouldn't be able to recognize his face from his back.

"So, now that you are all gathered here," the Head Boy spoke, a charming white smile, a good haircut, and every bit as alive as he had been the year before, "My name is Cedric Diggory, and I'll be the Head Boy for this year at Hogwarts. The Headmaster told me a few things, about some new rules, and so forth..."

And as he droned on about it, I dimly witnessed something beautiful.

Harry Potter's own envy at Cedric.

With Draco, it was disgust, kind-of like a Naruto-Sasuke rivalry.

But with Cedric? It had to be all about Cho Chang.

Sorry Harry, but keeping someone alive takes prerogative over your successful love-life.

Once you grow older, you will understand.

Always say no to hormones-talking!

Never say no to saving a kid's life!