When Harry arrived, there was not much left of the holidays, and his daily routine in Grimmauld Place was basically with the Weasleys, cleaning and cleaning the house, whether it was chasing foxes or removing mold, and Harry did not expect his summer vacation to end in an extremely awkward form.

On the last day of the holiday, while cleaning Hedwig's feces from the top of the closet, Ron walked into the bedroom with two envelopes.

"Here comes the list," he said, tossing an envelope to Harry who was standing in his chair, "and it should have come, I thought they had forgotten, it should have been here a long time ago......

Harry swept the last bit of feces into a garbage bag, then threw the bag from the top of Ron's head into the wastebasket in the corner, which swallowed the garbage bag and burped loudly, before Harry opened his letter, which contained two pieces of parchment, one reminding him of the start of school on September 1st, and the other telling him what books he needed for the next school year.

"Only two new books," Harry said in a somewhat wistful tone, the Harry reader's list, "Standard Spell: Level Five, Miranda?" Goshawk, and Wilbert? By Slinka. ”

After being spared the scourge of expulsion from Hogwarts and imprisonment in Azkaban, Harry found that the world had changed, joy was being squeezed, and a fresh sense of anticipation was gradually declining, slowly cold, and he knew a feeling of powerlessness that Harry himself could not explain.

Hermione didn't show up in the old house, and he, Ron, and Hermione had never been separated during previous vacations, whether it was at the Burrow or going to the World Cup, but this year, Harry vaguely felt that something was different, and Hermione chose to go to Durmstrang and stay with her lover.

Of course, Harry also wanted to think that it was because Ning An invited Hermione first, but there was still an indescribable awkwardness in his heart, and when he thought back on the whole holiday, he only felt that it was really terrible, whether it was wandering in London, or Durmstrang to Grimmauld Place, the changing space made Harry numb.

Nothing seemed to change except for the constant dreams and the occasional scar on his forehead, and Harry often struggled to ask why it had to be himself, if he had to bear it all himself.

Everyone here cared about him, they were on guard twenty-four hours a day, and Harry knew that there were people in the house who were on guard in case the Death Eaters attacked, but Harry felt that there was no one to say what was in his heart.

Seeing Sirius sullen every day, only beating his spirits in front of himself, Harry really couldn't bear to use his own pain to infect him again, but he had to silently communicate with Poole in the middle of the night, hiding under the quilt, Ron slept soundly, and never noticed the "hissing" Parseltongue around him every night.

And what was happening now was undoubtedly on top of this high accumulation of anguish, and Ron stood motionless, and when Harry looked back at him and didn't answer his words, he was still staring down at the letter from Hogwarts to him.

"Ron?" Harry walked over to his best friend in confusion, "What's wrong with you?" Walked straight behind Ron, his gaze projected over his shoulder, landing on the thin piece of parchment.

Harry couldn't tell what kind of mood he was, as if he was floating on the vast, nowhere to be seen, not up or down, unable to sink or find a shore to climb up on.

"Prefect—" Harry's voice seemed to wake Ron all at once, he snapped back to his senses, and when he turned around, the envelope accidentally fell to the ground, and a red and gold thing slipped out of it, Ron was stunned and motionless, and Harry bent down and slowly picked it up.

The Gryffindor lion was inlaid with a large letter "P", one of which he had seen on Percy's chest on his first day of entering Hogwarts.

He handed the badge to Ron, and the two of them were in a very strange, awkward atmosphere, Ron took the badge and stared at it for a moment, as if he hadn't figured out what was going on, Harry wanted to get out of here, he suddenly felt very tired, very tired, and he didn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone.

But he still squeezed out a smile and said with a happy look, "Great, Ron, great." Prefect. It's amazing. He said it too hard, the enthusiasm seemed so fake, so pompous, it didn't sound like his voice at all, and Ron didn't notice.

Harry only remembered that as if he had gradually lost consciousness, the room was bustling, Fred and George had made a fuss about Ron's election as prefect, and everyone knew about it, and Mrs. Weasley was so happy that she made it clear that she was going to throw a party for Ron.

Harry forced a smile and mingled, forgetting how he had finally broken away from the crowd and returned to his room, where he fell headlong into bed/shang, not wanting to do anything but sleep, and sleep all the time.

"Looks like you've been outdone by your best friend, Harry." Poole slipped out of the pocket of Harry's clothes, rubbed against the sheets, and twisted in front of Harry, hissing and spitting letters before his eyes as if he were gloating.

"It seems that you don't think your friend, the young man named Ron, is qualified to take on the responsibility?"

"No, how could it be, of course not!" Harry hurriedly denied, glaring at Poole, pretending to be very angry, as if his friend had been greatly insulted and he wanted to prove it for his friend, and Poole stared at Harry without shaking his head.

"But I'm a lot better at Quidditch than he is." Muttering quietly, Harry silently grabbed a corner of the quilt, thinking about leaning over to the wall, leaning against the wall, this moment, unprecedented loneliness.

"I've been through so many adventures, and I've been fighting against the most dangerous guys—" He clutched the corners of the quilt so hard that his fingernails seemed to hate to tear the cotton quilt.

"Ron's schoolwork was better than mine, though." Harry let go of the quilt and covered his face with his hands, crumpled his face into a ball, he shouldn't think like that, how could he think like that, like a guy who is arrogant, has no one in his eyes, thinks he is better than others, Ron is indeed much better than himself in his schoolwork, and when he goes through adventures, most of the time, Ron and Hermione are with him.

"I can see that Harry, your talent, your abilities, are much better than the other hairy boys here." Poole's tone was quite emotional, sounding like comfort and mockery, "But for some reason, you have such great abilities, but everyone treats you as a fool/gua who can't do anything and protects you - I mean, is this the unique way you wizards get along." ”

"That's enough, Poole," Harry looked away from his palm, the sky outside the window was almost dusk, and the room was just as dark and terrible, with no voices but hissing snakes.

"Dumbledore doesn't always choose a prefect based on his ability, sometimes ...... You don't know...... Ron has something that no one else has......"

"I see." Poole didn't say much, just replied perfunctorily, still holding his head high, staring at Harry lightly.

"Don't you choose people based on ability—" Harry asked himself in his mind, "Why did Dumbledore make that choice?" ”

"But given his strange attitude towards me, it doesn't seem surprising that he did anything, and maybe not being elected prefect would have met my expectations."

"So he's made a stupid/gua-like question, what kind of person would choose Ron as a prefect?" Harry laughed out loud, he taunted Dumbledore and Ron at once, but the next second he couldn't be proud of his behavior, and he felt a sense of disgust in his heart for what he was doing at the moment.

"What happens if you become a superior?" Poole suddenly spoke again, "Are prefects envied by you guys?" ”

Harry was stunned for a moment, his mind reminding of the glittering badge on his chest, Ron's admiring gaze, Hermione's approval, Sirius, Hagrid, and Lupin clapped their hands, "Harry did a great job" "You deserve it." ”

Malfoy's jealous look, the way the Slytherins feared and hated him, Snape's distorted face, and finally - Akibari, if he became a prefect, would Akihari adore him? Probably will, Harry thought about Qiu Zhang's face, and his heart began to pound again.

However, in the next second, he came to his senses, he was not a prefect, Ron was- something was missing, Harry looked at those admiring glances, Hermione's approval, Sirius, Hagrid one by one cast disappointed looks, turned to leave, the Slytherins pointed at him and laughed loudly, Qiu Zhang shook his head at him tactfully, "Harry, you're not a prefect, we really can't-"

"Damn! Damn it! Damn it! Harry suddenly went crazy, pounding his fists against the bed and the walls as if they weren't thick at all, and wouldn't feel pain.

Harry had forgotten how he had collected his emotions and went downstairs to the celebration, and Mrs. Weasley seemed to seize the last bit of time before dinner to go to Diagon Alley and retrieve a large bag of things.

One of them, wrapped in a long, thick brown piece of paper, was what Ron had always dreamed of, a broomstick that swept through 11, and when Harry saw it, he was smiling and happy for Ron, but a small voice jumped in his heart

"I'm riding a firebolt."

This made Harry's smile freeze for a moment, he was so ashamed of his vileness and shamelessness and for having such thoughts, what was wrong with him, as if some evil thoughts were taking root in his heart, and every step at a time, a small opportunity would become stronger.

Harry was ashamed of his thoughts, and he despised himself, but at the same time had to admit that he was happier when he thought about it, and that the pain of not being elected prefect was always a little less in such moments.

Mrs. Weasley prepared a very hearty meal, she was in a very good mood, Harry had never seen her so happy during the whole holiday, Harry had always thought that he had been so happy all along, and a big reason was that he didn't want to make Mrs. Weasley sad, this woman who took him like her own son, was ecstatic that her real son was elected prefect.

"Let's tell who is her real child this time, it's not you after all-" The unbeatable voice in his heart came out again, and Harry was extremely annoyed, if the thought could be seen with meat/yan, he would definitely pull it out and strangle it to death.

"She didn't care about your feelings, look, everyone knows that you're the prefect, not Ron—" The voice was out of control, and Harry tried to stop him, as he thought about stopping, shut up—

But on the other hand, I was vaguely happy in my heart, and I was mostly a little happy to hear such words, after all, these words are all true, aren't they? Maybe except for their malicious speculation about Mrs. Weasley, ah, I really damn it, how can I think of Mrs. Weasley, this amiable and respectable woman.

But she didn't care about you, and after the success of the real son, do you see that you were thrown aside? Who here has spoken up for you? At least for sure, it might have been more appropriate for Harry to be the prefect......"

Harry's soul seemed to be slowly being pulled out of his shell, and he stiffened as he toasted with the crowd, the cold liquor sliding down his throat and tumbling in his stomach.

The world around him has become so unreal that a few months ago, he sat in the school auditorium with Ron Hermione, worried about Voldemort's return, and now although this worry still exists, the people around him seem to have undergone a great change.

Hermione had spent her vacation in Durmstran, Harry had been there, and to be fair, it was wonderful, and he was envious of Hermione for being able to spend such a leisurely vacation.

Ron was elected prefect, and about half of his vacation was spent in the Burrow, but no matter what, he stayed in the wizarding world, with his brother, sister, and parents, living in his godfather's house, and he- Harry? Potter, but had to be stuck in the damn privet road.

Thinking of the things he suffered this holiday, one by one, one by one, in addition to running away in embarrassment, wandering, being found by Hermione and Ning An at the most depressed time, and being interrogated by the Ministry of Magic, although everything was okay in the end, Harry's heart seemed to be blocked by something, making people feel uncomfortable and unable to breathe.

Why does everyone seem to be living a satisfying life, and he is the only one, constantly being approached by troubles, he solves one big problem after another, he fights Quirrell, fights the basilisk, chases out the Dementors, and even witnesses Voldemort's return, but what reward does he get?

Harry thought about it, he only felt bored, he didn't get anything, not even a prefect, Dumbledore didn't want to give it to him, thinking that there would be two prefects, a man and a woman, and the female prefect of Gryffindor, except for Hermione, Harry couldn't think of anyone else, thinking of this, he was even more uncomfortable.