The two Hogwarts students had split up and searched the entire train but they had not found their quarry. As they met, back at their compartment the two of them felt a sense of acute loss and disappointment. While they had not truly expected Harry to turn up on the train, they had still been hoping - Hoping for a miracle, hoping that somehow he would turn up and join them for another year at Hogwarts.
"Didn't see him then?" asked Hermione.
"No", said Ron.
Hermione sighed, "We'd better get to the prefect's meeting then."
"Do we have to?" moaned Ron. "I don't feel like sitting with the other Prefects at all."
"Ron", admonished Hermione, "Of course we have to. Just because...just because Har...Let's just go. I'm sure it won't take too long."
The two friends sadly made their way to the prefect's compartment.
...
A furious Hermione made her way back from the prefect's meeting. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy had been made a prefect. Did Dumbledore ever stop and think about what he was doing? Did he even stop and think for one single second about what kind of message making Malfoy a prefect would send to the rest of the students.
This was the same boy who had crowed with glee when muggleborn students were getting petrified back in second year. The boy who made a habit of hurling racial epithets around like they meant nothing. The same boy who had been antagonising and insulting Harry since first year. The boy whose father had been the one to give Voldemort's diary to an innocent eleven year old girl. The boy who had almost gotten Buckbeak executed.
Now, that same utterly vile despicable sorry excuse of a human being had been made prefect.
Well, she thought, message received loud and clear Dumbledore. Obviously in magical Britain actions had obviously no consequences as long as you were a rich pureblood. You could behave as vilely as you wanted to muggleborns and as long as you were a rich pureblood - positions of power and authority would be handed to you whether you deserved them or not.
She had worked hard, had gone to extreme lengths to get good grades and prove herself worthy of becoming a prefect. What had Malfoy done? What effort had he taken to prove himself worthy of being a prefect? And it wasn't just him she realised...she felt sick as she came to a sudden realisation.
She turned and stared at Ron who was currently talking to Neville and that strange blonde girl who was still reading her magazine upside down. Why had Ron been made prefect? Harry had probably been their first choice and his sudden disappearance would have forced them to choose someone else. If he had been there - surely he would have gotten the position? Wouldn't he? Of course he would have. How could they possibly have chosen anyone over Harry.
Why Ron though? Why not someone like Neville or even Dean Thomas? True, Neville wasn't the most confident of boys but she was certain that his grades were better than Ron's. His skills in Herbology alone were enough to drag his overall grade higher than Ron's. He was also far more responsible than Ron who was always slacking off. Ron had never been the type to follow the rules either.
Still, perhaps they hadn't chosen Neville because of his shy nature. Prefects had to enforce the rules after all and shyness would be of no help there. Dean now, he could have made a good prefect. She couldn't remember him ever getting into any kind of serious trouble at school and he seemed to be well liked by most people and probably had decent grades as well. So why had Ron been chosen over Dean?
The only reason that she could think of for Ron to be made a prefect over Dean was...Ron was a pureblood and Dean was a muggleborn. True, Ron's family wasn't particularly rich but they were purebloods and they were awfully close to the Headmaster as well. Was that all it took?
She stared out the train window, feeling utterly miserable. Harry had better return soon.
...
Draco Malfoy was pissed off. What good was it to be made a prefect if he couldn't rub it in Potter's face? Where the hell was the Gryffindor Golden Boy anyway? Why wasn't he on the train? The mudblood and the ginger blood traitor weren't talking and no one else was close enough to the arrogant prat.
He snorted in annoyance. Bloody Potter! He's probably pulling another stunt like the one in second year. What's he going to turn up at school in this time? Riding on the back of a dragon?
...
Sirius Black stared morosely at his glass of firewhiskey. He felt utterly and completely useless. Dumbledore, the senile old goat buggerer, refused to let him leave Grimauld Place to search for Harry. He would have - should have gone anyway, but Dumbledore was the only one who had a method of tracking Harry and he wasn't sharing that information with him. Even Remus had refused to tell him where they thought Harry might be.
Damn Remus, damn him to hell. Going off with Snape to search for Harry! Damn him. What gave them the right to treat him like this? He was Harry's Godfather. He should be the one out there looking for him. Not forced to stay here alone at Grimauld.
At least Molly Weasley and her brats had not stayed long. God alone knew what Dumbledore was thinking, sending that horrible harridan to live in his house. She had the gall to order him around in his own house - In his own house for heaven's sake. Thank god she had gone back to the Burrow after it became clear that Harry was not going to be found in a day or two. He didn't know if he could have stomached her presence for much longer.
Still, a part of him had been sorry to see them all go. Being stuck here alone in this dark and dingy house with only Kreacher to keep him company was no picnic. Even the occasional Order meeting failed to cheer things up.
He snorted at the thought of the Order of the Phoenix and took a gulp of his whiskey. Bloody useless lot of wankers, he thought. They can't even keep track of one teenage boy. What bloody good will they be when they it's time to fight Voldemort?
They had better find Harry soon or he was going to break into Hogwarts and steal whatever the hell Dumbledore was using to track Harry. Then let them try and keep him away from his Godson.
....
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