“I have a pronouncement that will likely shock none of you, although as with everything else said here, I would like very much for you to keep this a secret until I make my official statement.”
She looked over the crowd of seventh-years again, this time with as close to a softened expression as ever came over the professor’s stern face. “I have served both you and this school for many more years than I ever thought possible. I have been honored to oversee not only your growth and education, but many of your parents’, and even grandparents’. But now, as mixed a blessing as it will surely be, I find that I am ready to call an end to my long tenure. This shall be my last year as a member of Hogwarts’ staff. My cottage and my gardens await, as do my pipe and what remains of my family. My one and only request of you, students…” Here she shook her head and, amazingly, the ghost of a wry smile curled her lips, “is that you make my final term as blissfully uneventful as possible.”
This was met with a ripple of laughter, but as James glanced around the room he saw many faces showing what he felt: surprise and uncomfortable dismay. Professor McGonagall was currently the oldest and most prominent member of the Hogwarts staff. It was difficult even to imagine a Hogwarts without her presiding over it. Merlin may be the current headmaster, and he may occupy that post for many decades to come, but somehow he was merely the brain of the school. Professor Minerva McGonagall was its heart and soul, despite her eternally stern and stoic demeanor.
James’ earlier melancholy momentarily blotted his world again, covering it like a storm cloud obscuring the summer sun. Not just because he couldn’t imagine Hogwarts without Professor McGonagall, but because, after his interview with Rita Skeeter and her reminder of all the ways that the magical world seemed to be disintegrating, he had a deep fear that the professor’s request for an uneventful final term was doomed even before the year had begun.
Ashley Doone raised her hand peremptorily. “What will you do, Professor?” she asked in a small voice.
McGonagall slowly shook her head, still smiling faintly. “I haven’t the slightest idea, Miss Doone,” she answered. “And that, my dear young friends… is the most marvelously freeing feeling in the world.”
Sensing an end to the gathering, the students began to stir and murmur. McGonagall raised her voice once more. “A last order of business before you go to your house tables,” she said quickly. “Most of you will likely have learned on the train who your Head Girl and Boy shall be this year…”
“I only know that it isn’t me,” James muttered, smiling aside at Ralph. “And hooray for that, despite what my Mum may have wanted.”
“Erm,” Ralph said, looking suddenly uncomfortable.
“This year’s Head Girl,” McGonagall called as the students stood and drifted restlessly toward the door. “Is Miss Fiona Fourcompass of Ravenclaw House. And Head Boy shall be Mr. Ralph Deedle, of Slytherin. I trust that you both have already spoken to this year’s new prefects on the train, explaining their duties and the parts you shall play in them.”
Ralph nodded solemnly at the professor as James boggled at him, dumbfounded. “Did it first thing, Ma’am,” he reported. “Just like the letter said.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” James rasped as the gathering finally broke up and bottlenecked at the door. “It was one thing for you to get prefect back in our fifth year— I swear it’s taken me this long just to get used to that! But Head Boy!?”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” Ralph rolled his eyes. “I knew you’d make a big hairy thing out of it.”
“It is a big hairy thing!” James spluttered. “Since when are you even angling for that kind of responsibility?”
“What do you mean?” Ralph looked slightly wounded. “I’ve always been the responsible one. All those times you and Zane and Rose were heading off on half-witted adventures, who was the one hanging back and being all careful?”
“You weren’t being ‘careful’,” James rolled his eyes. “You were being scared out of your wits. Not the same thing.”
“Look,” Ralph said, stopping next to the door and turning to look at James. “You were all worried that when I got prefect all of a sudden I’d be throwing a damper on your fun. Did that happen?”
“It totally did!” James whispered harshly. “You made us get back on time every Hogsmeade weekend. You made sure we couldn’t nip off with the rest of the Gremlins when they had their secret caravan holiday.
You reported to my mum that I’d broken my glasses and nagged me ever since to wear them in class, just because she asked you to! You even told Zane to stop popping up at all hours whenever he and the experimental magical communications crew have a new technique to test out!”
“He woke me up at two in the morning floating over my bed,”
Ralph bristled. “I mean, fun’s fun, but he nearly made me wet myself, I swear.”
“Promise me this won’t all go to your head, Ralph,” James insisted, glaring up at the bigger boy.
“It won’t and it hasn’t,” Ralph proclaimed, firming his jaw and pushing up to his full, prodigious height. A moment later, he slumped back to his normal posture. “Besides, at least I kept us out of any death-defying predicaments and earth-shattering plots for two whole years.
And you haven’t even thanked me for that.”
James blew out a breath and relaxed. “I’m not sure how much credit you can take for that, exactly,” he shook his head.
As they finally pushed their way back into the noise of the Great Hall and found their seats, James was interested to see the ghost of Cedric Diggory floating near the head of the Hufflepuff table, regaling the younger students with some apparently enthralling story. Probably he was entertaining them with tales of his experiences during the legendary Triwizard Tournament, which was a favorite topic ever since he had become the official Hufflepuff House Ghost.
“Sometimes I miss the Fat Friar,” Graham commented, grabbing a handful of rolls from a nearby platter. “Ever since he retired, The Hufflepuffs have been lording it over us with their dashing new ghost.”
Scorpius shook his head in Cedric’s direction and sneered. “He certainly is rather windy for a ‘Spectre of Silence’.”
Rose clucked her tongue primly. “Jealousy is such an ugly emotion. I think it’s wonderful that Cedric has finally found some new friends and a purpose.” She glanced back at him over her shoulder, and then deflated slightly as she turned back. “Even if it does only remind us that Gryffindor doesn’t currently have any house ghost at all.”
“How’s that work, anyway,” Cameron Creevey asked from further down the table. “I mean, it’s tradition for every house to have one, right? Slytherin has the Bloody Baron. Ravenclaw has the Grey Lady—”