The Toad Conspiracy

Chapter 3: Prefects, Parcels and Pyre

Next morning, Neville went down early to the Great Hall for breakfast, but not because he was especially hungry. In fact, his jittery stomach was making it particularly difficult for him to enjoy his fried bacon and eggs. Instead, he found himself sitting down to breakfast earlier than usual because he had felt more than a little out of place in his suddenly unrecognisable dorm room.

Neville had awoken to a terrible shock: Terry and Michael had not stopped with changing the colour of their bed-hangings after Neville had drifted off to sleep. By morning, the walls, the floorboards, and even Neville's slippers were all various shades of blue. Even worse, one of the two Ravenclaws had accidentally turned poor Trevor a rather unbecoming periwinkle.

It had taken Neville several unsuccessful attempts to change Trevor back to his usual warty green, and Trevor, who was clearly mortified by the whole ordeal, had leapt under Neville's bed to sulk afterward. During the entire unpleasant process, Terry and Michael had not even offered an apology but had instead gone about their business smirking.

Neville, of course, had not complained. His stomach in knots of frustration, he had dressed quickly and sped down to the Great Hall, where he sat by himself munching rather half-heartedly on a piece of bacon. His quiet contemplation was suddenly interrupted by the slamming of a heavy schoolbag on the bench beside him as a very disgruntled Ginny joined him at the table.

'This mixed house thing isn't working for me,' she fumed, nearly upending Neville's goblet of pumpkin juice as she grabbed for the plate of toast in front of him.

'What happened?' Neville asked, wondering if Ginny's room was now as overwhelmingly blue as his.

'The Ravenclaws think that being forced to move is somehow our fault, so they've decided to make us pay.' Ginny buttered a hole through her toast in outrage. 'Did you hear what they did to the common room?'

Neville shook his head. He had been in such a hurry to get to the Great Hall, he hadn't noticed anything different on his way out.

'They claimed all the armchairs nearest the fireplace and set up a Banishing Barrier around it,' she seethed. 'Any Gryffindor who tries to sit there will find themselves plastered to ceiling.'

'They can't do that,' Neville protested. The armchairs nearest the fireplace were usually the most comfortable chairs in the common room, particularly during the winter.

Ginny snorted. 'Don't worry. Demelza and I are going to take care of that after lunch.'

'What about your new roommates?' Neville asked, wondering if she was having better luck with hers than he was with his.

'Well, one of them's not so bad,' she said, smiling a little. 'Luna does have some odd habits, but she said she thought Gryffindor was quite lovely.

'But as for the others,' Ginny suddenly plunked down her knife and glared daggers at a group of belligerent-looking Ravenclaws who had just entered the hall, 'if I have to hear Marigold Martin-Jones carp about the colour of the curtains or Frances Hadley whine about the shabbiness of the rooms, I'm going to lock them both in a closet with Peeves!'

That thought seemed to cheer Ginny up and she attended to the rest of her toast with gusto. Neville, on the other hand, reminded of the new colour of his curtains, his walls, and his slippers, had lost his appetite.

Breakfast was in full swing and as noisy as ever. It seemed that the mixing of houses had given everyone a lot to complain about. Neville, however, feeling particularly uneasy and frustrated, as he usually did when he knew he had forgotten something but could not remember quite what, sat quietly fiddling with his bacon.

Just then, the post arrived, and it was with little surprise that Neville recognised his grandmother's handsome eagle owl, Tiberius, headed straight for him. It was also with little surprise that Tiberius had more than a letter clutched in his talons.

The owl plunked his heavy load in front of Neville and neatly landed on the not-quite-empty plate of toast.

'Ew!' squealed Lavender. 'Your owl's in the toast!'

'Er, sorry,' Neville said, apologising for the owl's poor manners. Tiberius had already begun to nibble contentedly on the toast he had landed on, quite confident that no one else would be interested in eating it now.

Neville unwrapped the bulky package to find his schoolbag inside, and immediately realised that this was what had been nagging him. Why on earth he was forever forgetting things, he would never understand. As he opened the schoolbag to place his books inside - these at least he had not forgotten - a letter and a small parchment-wrapped bundle fell out.

The letter was from his grandmother:

Dear Neville,

I have no idea how you made it out the door without your schoolbag. I expect you would forget your head if it weren't already attached to your neck. However, forgetting your schoolbag is not nearly as problematic as forgetting the books that go in it. As I have not found any of these lying about, I shall assume you did manage to bring them with you.

Uncle Algie has asked me to convey a message to you. He says for you to stay very close to Trevor, though I have no idea why. He has also included a small package for Trevor. He would not tell me what it was, but assured me that Trevor would appreciate it. Sometimes I really cannot understand the man. If you ask me, he is far too attached to amphibians.

I await your first letter informing me of your progress at school.

Grandmother Augusta

Neville was just about to open the intriguing small package his uncle had sent Trevor when another owl, this time one of the school's barn owls, deposited a large cream-coloured envelope on his plate.

As he ripped it open, something scarlet and gold fluttered onto the table.

Dear Mr. Longbottom,

You have been selected to serve as a Prefect for the joint houses of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw this year. I shall expect you in my office after dinner this evening to discuss your duties and any concerns you may have regarding your role in the current joint house situation.

Kind regards,

Professor P. Pyre

Prefect? Neville touched the Prefect's badge with numb fingers. Professor Pyre had clearly made a mistake. Neville was absolutely not Prefect material: he was forever forgetting the Gryffindor password, his spellwork was somewhat spotty, and most times he felt quite the nobody next to his more talented classmates.

Neville was so caught up in thinking about his lack of qualifications for being Prefect that he jumped in surprise when a dreamy voice interrupted his concentration.

'Hello, Neville.' Luna was standing just over his shoulder, her head cocked to one side as she gazed unblinkingly at the small scrap of scarlet and gold lying in front of him.

'Uh, hi, Luna,' Neville felt embarrassed heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks. He tried to hide the badge under the letter from Professor Pyre.

'Is that a Prefect's badge?' she asked, snagging a piece of bacon from the platter next to him.

'Yes, but I think it's a mistake,' Neville said, the heat in his neck and face intensifying as a ribbon of her hair trailed across his hand.

'Oh, that's too bad,' Luna said as she began to nibble on the bacon. 'It really suits you.'

'Really?' Neville's ears were so warm they began to itch.

'Yes. It matches your ears right now,' Luna said serenely. 'I think red is a lovely colour, don't you?'

'Er, I suppose so.' The itching had spread to his neck and Neville hoped fervently that he was not coming down with a case of Troll Pox.

'Some of the other Ravenclaws really don't like Gryffindor,' she explained. 'It's smaller than Ravenclaw I suppose, but I think red is a much cosier colour than blue, especially in the winter.'

'Uh, yeah. It's nice in the winter.' Neville swiped his suddenly itchy nose with the back of his hand and tried to think of something to say that would not cause his ears to flame even brighter. 'I'm sorry you had to move.'

'I'm not,' Luna whispered quite excitedly. 'I was exploring the common room just now, and I think I spotted a Kipp. We didn't have any of those in Ravenclaw.'

'That's good,' Neville said, having no earthly idea what a Kipp was but feeling quite thankful that she was no longer talking about the colour red, his Prefect's badge, or his ears.

'Well, bye,' she said and drifted off toward the Ravenclaw table where Professor Flitwick was beginning to hand out term schedules.

Before anyone else could notice, Neville slid the Prefect's badge back into the envelope. A quick glance around the table showed him Ginny proudly fastening an identical badge to the front of her robes. Her cheeks were turning quite pink as the Creevey brothers and Demelza looked on admiringly. She at least would be alright as a Prefect; the other Gryffindors actually listened to her.

Neville wedged Professor Pyre's letter deep into his schoolbag for good measure.

'Mr. Longbottom.'

He was so startled by the deep, unfamiliar voice behind him that he dropped his bag, spilling his books and papers in a messy tumble at the feet of his Head of House.

With a quick flick of his wand, Professor Pyre retrieved his letter to Neville from among the clutter and pinned Neville with sharp, grey eyes. 'May I ask why you're not wearing your badge?'

'Sir.' Neville wasn't quite sure how to tell Professor Pyre that he had made a mistake in selecting him. 'I'm not sure I have what it takes to be a Prefect.'

'Oh?' The expression on Pyre's leathery face was unreadable. 'What qualities do you think you're lacking?'

'Well,' Neville snuck a quick glance at Ginny who was speaking quite animatedly with Demelza about a particularly complicated N.E.W.T. level charm she wanted to practice, 'I'm not really a top student.''

'I see,' said Pyre gravely. 'So you believe that high marks are the best indicator of leadership?'

'Well, no. Not just top marks,' Neville stammered, feeling his cheeks begin to flame again. 'I'm also quite forgetful. I used to forget the password to the common room an awful lot.'

'A grave failing, I am sure.' Pyre nodded. 'When is the last time you forgot the password?'

'Um.' Neville was quite stumped for a moment. He remembered quite vividly how his forgetfulness had allowed an escaped criminal to sneak into Gryffindor tower, but he hadn't been quite as forgetful with the password ever since. 'Maybe third year?'

'I see.' Pyre's face remained inscrutable.

He was not reacting quite as he had expected, and Neville scrambled to articulate the most damning reason of all. 'Actually, I'm not really someone other people listen to.'

'Indeed,' Pyre said. 'Is there anything else?'

'No, sir.' Neville shook his head. That seemed like quite enough to him.

Pyre regarded him a moment, before returning the envelope to him. 'I appreciate your concerns Mr. Longbottom. High marks, a good memory, and popularity are all admirable qualities in a Prefect. But so are patience, understanding, and the ability to respond to the needs of others. I have asked very different students to take on the responsibility of being Prefects this year because I believe all their various strengths will be needed.

'Before you decline the position, I ask only that you think it over a little while longer. When we meet tonight, if you are still concerned about your qualifications, I will accept your refusal then. Is this acceptable?'

'Yes, Professor,' Neville said.

'Good.' Pyre nodded and then handed Neville a square of parchment. 'Then here is your timetable. I will see you in class later.'

In class later? Neville opened his mouth to point out that this would be unlikely as he again would not be taking Transfiguration this year, but Professor Pyre had already moved on to hand out timetables to several other students.