TheFanficGOD
patreon
HP411- The Room
🕑 Added 2025-04-16 21:30:21 +0000 UTCDaphne fell in step beside him without a word. Across the room, the other prefects gathered—some already yawning. Others pretending this wasn’t the fifth rerun in a different outfit.
They made their way back through the hallways. A door slammed somewhere upstairs—likely Peeves chasing someone who forgot to ward their bag.
“Bet you ten galleons one of the Hufflepuffs reports a ghost prank by tomorrow,” Daphne said as they climbed the last steps.
“Too easy,” Harry replied. “Up it to fifteen and make it a first-year.”
“Done.”
The antechamber was already filling when they arrived. Most of the prefects were scattered into loose groups. A few Ravenclaws were comparing notes on past policies. The Gryffindor ones were talking too loud, as usual. Hufflepuffs looked half-asleep but somehow still alert.
Head Boy and Head Girl—seventh-years from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff—stood near the fireplace, badges shining like they’d polished them five times. The Ravenclaw girl looked like she was ready to recite the handbook from memory. Cedric looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Harry snorted when he saw the badge on Cedric’s chest.
Cedric didn’t wait. “Stop. I know that look. That’s your ‘I’m about to tease you to death’ face.”
Harry grinned. “And here I thought I was subtle.”
“My mistake,” Cedric said dryly. “Forgot who I was talking to.”
Before Harry could fire back, Hannah Abbott appeared from the left, already mid-smile. “Don’t listen to him. It’s a good badge. Looks better on you than it would on him anyway.”
“Unfair comparison,” Harry said. “I’d never wear mine straight.”
Hannah rolled her eyes and moved to her group. “Pansy will be so jealous. We have a secret club in our group now.”
Hermione and Neville arrived right after, slipping through a cluster of Ravenclaws. Neville gave Harry a look and shook his head.
“I mean, Daphne is top of our year with me and Hermione,” he said, like he still didn’t believe it.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
Hermione, clearly already tired of the conversation, added without looking up, “We ignore you completely. You’re unfair. So top starts after you. Neville’s ahead in Herbology, Daphne and I cover the rest. You’re just… a header.”
Padma Patil walked up just in time to catch that last part, lips twitching into a grin. “Harry Header Potter. Fits.”
“Catchy,” Harry said, dry. “Print the badges.”
They stood together, waiting for the faculty to show up. The prefects spread out loosely around the room, some half-listening, others just leaning on walls or chairs like they already wanted the meeting over with. A few of the older ones had that polished patience of students who’d sat through this multiple times.
Cedric used the moment to fill them in.
“Standard drill,” he said, looking around. “Common room duties rotate weekly. First-year curfew is nine. No magic in hallways, especially near portraits—last year, someone nearly incinerated Sir Cadogan’s frame trying a Fire-Making Charm.”
A couple of Ravenclaws looked up from their whispering at that.
“Patrol pairings are mostly same-House unless someone gets creative. If your House wants mixed patrols for some reason, tell McGonagall early. Otherwise, you’ll get what you’re given.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Creative how?”
Cedric gave a dry smile. “You’d be surprised how many people think it’s romantic to patrol with their girlfriend.”
“Let me guess,” Neville said from the corner, arms crossed. “Didn’t end well?”
“Two detentions and one jinxed hallway,” Cedric said. “...And a portrait who still won’t talk to couples.”
Padma added, “And Filch still hasn’t fixed that corridor near the trophy room.”
“Because it smells like melted troll breath,” said one of the Gryffindor prefects. “I walked past it last week.”
“You’re welcome,” Cedric said, completely unbothered. “Now you know what not to do.”
McGonagall entered then, trailed by Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape. No dramatic entrance, just straight to business. McGonagall gave a brief glance over the room before speaking.
“Prefects,” she began, “your schedules and patrol rotations will be sent to your House Heads by morning. Make sure they’re posted on your notice boards and delivered to the younger years directly.”
She held up a small stack of folded parchments. “These are your House-specific expectations. Some of you may have adjustments. See your Head of House if you have questions.”
Sprout stepped forward to hand them out. Harry took Slytherin’s copy with a nod and passed it to Daphne. She scanned it quickly and tucked it into her sleeve.
Flitwick, ever cheery, gave a quick reminder not to duel in the corridors and especially not “accidentally challenge each other while patrolling.” A few of the Gryffindors laughed. Tonks slipped in just behind him, clearly late, clearly not sorry.
“Wotcher,” she said, sliding next to the staff table. Her hair was bright orange now. “I’m new. You’ll all learn to fear me later.”
Snape didn’t even blink. McGonagall handed Tonks her own parchment without a word.
“Discipline goes through your House Heads,” McGonagall continued. “If you catch someone breaking rules, don’t start throwing spells. Record it, send it up. You are not Aurors. Nor are you duelists.”
She turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, you are in charge of many events, including the Duelling Club. We don’t typically allow preferential treatment, but your case is… particular. If needed, you may assign your patrol duties to other prefects in your year.”
Harry gave a simple nod. “Understood. If I can’t manage something, I’ll ask the others to take over.”
McGonagall accepted that with a small nod, then looked around the room. “Anything else?”
No one spoke.
McGonagall looked at Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick. When none of them added anything, she gave a short nod and turned back to the room.
“That will be all. Dismissed.”
Tonks opened her mouth, clearly ready to linger, but Sprout was already at her elbow, steering her away like she’d seen this coming. The two disappeared through the side door, Tonks tossing a grin over her shoulder as she went.
Harry chuckled. “Alright, let’s learn the ropes.”
They didn’t linger. Most of the prefects started drifting out, some already comparing notes or muttering about adjusting patrol pairings. Daphne walked next to Harry, her arms folded.
“Think we’ll get a decent schedule or is this going to be a ‘figure it out as we go?'"
“Depends on who you bribe,” Harry said.
Harry assigned most of his and Daphne’s prefect duties to the older Slytherins, the ones who didn’t mind lecturing first-years or walking circles around the castle at night. He only kept the shifts where his presence was actually needed—mostly the ones tied to the Duelling Club or anything that had him crossing paths with teachers.
Once things were handed off, he left the common room and headed for the seventh floor. One of the old classrooms was still usable—barely. The windows creaked, half the chairs were uneven, and there was a suspicious ink blot near the door that looked like it had been sentient once. But it was quiet, and it wasn’t watched.
His group was already trickling in. Astoria and Tracey arrived first, claiming the chairs near the far end. Pansy wandered in next and immediately pointed at Harry with mock outrage.
“Prefect leading the poor us astray. I will report this!”
Harry didn’t even look up. “To whom? Snape?”
She dropped into the seat beside him. “Maybe to Dumbledore?”
“Go ahead. He might give me extra credit.”
Luna tilted her head from across the room. “He might even encourage Harry,” she said with a smile.
Pansy laughed, “Which is the real problem.”
Susan and Hannah came in chatting about some Muggle shampoo Hannah was swearing by, and Ginny followed a minute later, with Fred and George trailing.
Neville and Hermione slipped in last. Neville looked like he’d sprinted part of the way, while Hermione had the air of someone who’d argued with a professor about procedural nonsense and lost. She smoothed her hair down before dropping into the seat beside Luna.
“Finished dragging the first-years to bed?” Harry asked.
Neville gave a dramatic sigh and slumped into the nearest chair. “One of them kept asking if the suits of armor were cursed.”
“They are,” Astoria said without looking up from her sweets.
Tracey reached over and stole one. “Only if you poke them.”
“Let’s test it on someone from Gryffindor,” Daphne suggested. “Charity work.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m right here.”
“I said what I said,” Daphne replied.
Hermione ignored them and glanced around. “So this is the plan? Hidden classroom meetings now?”
Harry only smiled walking out. “Better.”
They followed him through the hallways, past a few confused portraits and an enchanted mop chasing itself in circles. He stopped in front of the troll-in-a-tutu painting and gave the wall a look.
“I present, Room of Requirement.”
