Harry stood up when we entered, his gaze lingering on Ron for the most fleeting of seconds.

“You two took long,” he commented, a little too airily. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he did not look too pleased.

“Yeah, instructions took longer than usual,” Ron replied, glancing momentarily at me as he lied, quite openly. For a second, I was shocked at this untruthful statement. And then, suddenly, I was not. I nodded in half-willing, half-unwilling agreement, sitting down.

“Who’re the new Prefects?” Luna asked, laying aside her magazine and looking at me and Ron with frank interest once both of us had sat down. “Anyone we know?”

“Well, there’s Goodrem Lodge,” I said, trying to avoid eye contact with both Harry and Ron. “He’s in your year, isn’t he, Luna? That Ravenclaw with the blonde hair. I got to know most of the other new Prefects only today.”

“I see.” Luna retreated back to her magazine, before suddenly looking up to say, “Did you know Goodrem’s father grows fields of moonstones to catch starlight? It has amazing healing powers, starlight. Father says gnomes were the first carriers of –”

She trailed into a sketchy, much-winding tale about gnomes and moonstones, and I looked up, one eyebrow raised. Ginny and Orla were both giggling behind their tower of cards, clearly enjoying this. Ron and Neville – in short – looked highly bemused. My eyes met Harry’s: he smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching as if in laughter held back.

And, suddenly, it all seemed very funny. I laughed openly, and Luna fell quiet.

“You think it’s funny, do you?” she asked serenely. “But people used to laugh when the starstuff first came to earth.” She shook her head, raddish earrings swinging, and buried herself into a book.

I could feel my cheeks flush. All was embarrassment.