The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it.

“Can't stay long, Mother,” he said. “I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—”

 

“Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?” said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”

“Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it,” said the other twin. “Once—”

“Or twice—”

“A minute—”

“All summer—”

“Oh, shut up,” said Percy the Prefect.

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” said one of the twins.

“Because he's a prefect,” said their mother fondly. “All right, dear, well, have a good term — send me an owl when you get there.”

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

“Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've — you've blown up a toilet or—”

“Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet.”

“Great idea though, thanks, Mom.”

“It's not funny. And look after Ron.”

“Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.”

“Shut up,” said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.