The ceiling of the Hogwarts Great Hall was enchanted, and tonight it displayed a cloudless azure blue.
At the Gryffindor table, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding steamed on silver platters.
Yet amid the clatter of knives and forks, a few people's conversation seemed out of place.
Neville Longbottom sat on the edge of the bench, most of his body held rigidly upright.
On his chest, the Prefect Badge that symbolized honor-a gold lion on a red background-gleamed somewhat glaringly.
"This is definitely a terrible mistake."
Neville stared at the glass of pumpkin juice before him, his voice trembling like a clockwork spring about to snap.
"The Academic Affairs Office must have mixed up the approval list. Maybe it was meant to be Dean? Or Seamus?"
"Don't be silly, Neville."
Ron deftly crushed a boiled potato with the back of his knife, his tone surprisingly steady.
It held none of his old longing for authority, nor the slightest trace of jealousy.
"If you think that approval magic array Director Black designed, the one so complicated it makes you want to throw up, could mix up names, then you're questioning the technical standards of the entire Marauders Power Company."
"But my memory is absolutely terrible!"
Neville argued, nervously rubbing the edges of his robes with both hands.
"I can't even remember the password to the Gryffindor Common Room! If I went on patrol, I'd probably lock myself outside the portrait, or have Peeves scribble all over my face with chalk."
"Hogwarts has countless magical tools to make up for a poor memory, Neville."
Hermione unhurriedly cut a lamb chop into even little pieces.
"Parchment with a Memory Charm on it, pocket watches that automatically record things you need to do.
A prefect's job has never been about competing to see who can