And as he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badlyt:hat he clapped his hand to it..
'Just caught her!' he said happily. 'She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can.'
'Yeah, he swung it for me,' said Harry. He felt it would sound highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, 'I wish he'd talked to me, though. Or even looked at me.'
'Or what?' said Fred, an evil grin spreading across his face. 'Going to put us in detention?'
At this point, Mrs Weasley entered the bedroom behind them.
- CHAPTER NINE -
Oh - I dunno - ' said Harry, slightly alarmed at being asked his opinion; he slid away from them in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus.
He glanced at Madam Bones, who readjusted her monocle and stared back at him, frowning slightly.
'We are familiar with Clause Seven, thank you very much!' snarled Fudge.
'That wasn't me, it was a house-elf!' said Harry.
Harry screwed up his face and buried it in his hands. He could not lie to himself; if he had known the prefect badge was on its way, he would have expected it to come to him, not Ron. Did this make him as arrogant as Draco Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?
'We thought you were a cert!' said Fred, in a tone that suggested Harry had tricked them in some way.
'Mrs Weasley, just get out of here!' shouted Harry, staring down at his own dead body on the floor. 'Let someone else - '
'No,' said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. 'It's Ron, not me.'
But wait a moment, it couldn't be - Ron was downstairs -
'I don't think they are,' said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. They've always said only prats become prefects . . . still,' he added on a happier note, 'they've never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose . . . she'll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there's the new Cleansweep out, that'd be great . . . yeah, I think I'll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows . . .'
'Mum . . . don't . . . Mum, get a grip . . .' he muttered, trying to push her away.
Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs Weasley did not notice; arms tight around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his badge.
'Yeah,' said Harry, 'yeah, I'm good at escaping.'