The Badge That Changed Everything
Harry Potter had faced a basilisk, a werewolf, a dragon, and Voldemort himself —but somehow, none of those experiences had prepared him for the red and gold badge sitting in his palm.
It was small, polished, and absolutely real.
He turned it over, the engraved letters catching the light. H. Potter.
There had to be a mistake.
Harry had never once imagined himself as Prefect material . That was for people like Hermione—responsible, brilliant, naturally good at leadership. People who planned things instead of running headfirst into disaster.
Not him.
And yet, here it was.
He picked up the letter McGonagall had sent along with it, reading it for the third time .
Dear Mr. Potter,
I am pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as the Gryffindor Fifth Year Prefect
alongside Miss Granger. Please report to my office before the start-of-term feast for your briefing.
Professor M. McGonagall
A flicker of something warm settled in Harry’s chest. She thinks I can do this.
He sat up a little straighter.
Maybe… maybe it was time to take his life seriously.
For the past four years, he had reacted to everything—always being pulled from one crisis to the next. But this was the first time he had been given a choice about his future.
And Harry Potter was going to be a Healer.
He hadn’t told anyone yet—not even Hermione. It wasn’t something he’d spent years dreaming about, like becoming an Auror or a professional Quidditch player. But over time, it had just... made sense.
He had spent his entire life patching himself up—between Quidditch injuries, duels, and the occasional life-threatening catastrophe —and healing felt right in a way nothing else did.
Madam Pomfrey had always been there, fixing the damage, knowing exactly what to do. Maybe Harry could do that, too. Maybe, for once, he could fix something instead of breaking it.
A faint smile crossed his lips.
He had no idea if he’d actually be any good at it, but… he wanted to try.
And for the first time, he had a plan.
The dormitory door swung open with a loud creak , and Ron Weasley trudged in, still stuffing a Chocolate Frog into his mouth.
“Oi, mate,” Ron said through a mouthful of chocolate. “McGonagall sent out the Prefect letters. Bet mine’s waiting downstairs—”
His eyes landed on the badge in Harry’s hand.
And immediately , his entire body froze.
Harry barely had time to process it before Ron’s face dropped , his blue eyes flicking between the badge and Harry’s stunned expression.
“That’s… yours?” Ron said, his voice hollow .
Harry felt his stomach twist . “Yeah.”
The Chocolate Frog fell from Ron’s hand onto the sheets. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, staring at the badge as if Harry had stolen it.
Ron blinked rapidly , his ears turning scarlet . “But—how—?”
“McGonagall gave it to me,” Harry said, trying to keep his tone even.
Ron let out a breathy, bitter laugh. “She’s off her rocker, then.”
Something in Harry’s chest coiled tight.
“Or maybe,” Harry said, voice sharp, “she thinks I’ll do a good job.”
Ron’s face twisted into something ugly.
Before he could say anything else—
“Oh, brilliant! You got yours too!”
Hermione swept into the dormitory, already in her Hogwarts robes, her own Prefect badge pinned proudly to her chest. She beamed at Harry.
“I was hoping they’d pick you!” she said, clapping her hands together. “I knew it!”
Harry exhaled, feeling an immediate rush of relief . At least someone was happy for him.
Ron muttered something under his breath.
Hermione’s smile faltered. “Ron? Are you alright?”
Ron forced out a laugh, but it was strained. “Yeah. Just, y’know… surprised.”
Hermione frowned. “Well, it’s not that surprising. Harry’s a natural leader, and he’s always helping people—”
“Right,” Ron interrupted, standing abruptly. His movements were jerky as he grabbed his school robes. “Well, I’m going down to breakfast.”
He didn’t wait for a reply before storming out.
The door slammed behind him.
Harry stared at the empty doorway, his grip on the badge tightening.
He wasn’t stupid.
He had seen that look before —the same look Ron had given him when he’d been chosen as Hogwarts’ Triwizard Champion last year.
Resentment.
Jealousy.
Not again, Harry thought, feeling something sink in his chest.
“Don’t mind him,” Hermione said quietly. “He’ll get over it.”
Harry wasn’t sure he believed that.