I have had a positively excellent summer. Fred and George have been as annoying as always, but I have done my best to ignore their childishly irritating attitudes and frequent pranks they unnecessarily play on me. Speaking of family members, I assume you are familiar with my father (Arthur Weasley) my mother (Molly Weasley) my brothers (Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and Ronald Weasley, A.K.A Ron) and Ginerva, my sister, preferably known as Ginny. I regard myself as the most distinctively sensible and practical family member - I attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and, if I do say so myself, are doing relatively well. Ron recently completed his first year at Hogwarts - I was considerably pleased that he was sorted into Gryffindor, but a bit disapproving upon discovering that he had made friends with no other than Harry Potter, or, I should say, the Boy Who Lived. I am disappointed in this because it is typical, and as I know Ron as an attention-seeking person, it is typical of him to do so. Just like Ron to grasp this opportunity of popularity.
But I should change the subject and make a confession. The main reason my holiday has been so enjoyable is because I have been communicating with a correspondent by the name of Penelope Clearwater. She is a kind, empathetic girl, intelligent and in my opinion, absolutely lovely. I met her at Hogwarts last year and we get along wonderfully. We exchanged addresses and have been sending letters to one another frequently. I was delighted with this, but have not told my parents, brothers, or sister yet, as I suspect they might think it is a romantic affair, which it certainly is not!

I dipped my quill into the bottle of ink beside me and signed my name at the bottom of the parchment. I surveyed my letter approvingly, quite pleased with my neat cursive which I had adapted to quite naturally. I then rolled the letter up, sealed it with gold wax, and laid it carefully aside. It would remain there on my desk until Errol, the elderly family owl, returned. Ron has been using him continually lately, apparently writing to Harry Potter. So selfish of him! He is so ignorant of my needs, and only thinks of himself. I sighed. Penelope would just have to wait.
I was startled by a tap at the window. I looked around and observed a tawny owl perched on the sill, watching me sternly, a wad of letters clamped in its beak. I noticed a red wax on one, and recognized the seal of Hogwarts. I hastily opened the window and permitted the bird inside. It deposited the letters in my hands and then departed immediately, not wishing to dawdle. I closed the window and then shuffled through the letters until I found the one addressed to me. These were our annual Hogwarts letters, containing a list of items we would need to procure for this year. I read through the books, potion ingredients, robes etc. written on the parchment inside before finishing and folding the paper back up. However, as I shifted the envelope I noticed a slight weight inside. Slipping my hand in, I withdrew it with a badge in my palm inscribed with the letter P against a scarlet background. An excitement shot through me, and I felt thrilled. Could I be...?
"A prefect!" I said aloud.
I stood there a moment. Then I carefully, very carefully, slipped the badge into my pocket and scooped up the rest of the letters before hastening downstairs. My heart was pumping and I felt considerably exhilarated. I reached the kitchen and barged in, holding the badge up so everyone could see. Mother, who had a frown on her face for some reason, looked up first rather disapprovingly before she noticed what was in my hand. Then she beamed, and a broad smile lit her face.
"Oh, Percy!" She ejaculated, delighted, before squeezing me in a tight, affectionate embrace.
"Mother," I protested slightly, a little embarrassed. "Calm down..."
"I just knew you would get it, I knew it!" Mother said excitedly. "Let me see, let me see -"
I reluctantly handed her the badge.
"Don't get it dirty mother," I said, ensuring she didn't smudge the shiny surface of the item.
"'Don't get it dirty,'" I heard someone mimic.
I looked around furiously. It was Fred who had uttered the words, and was now chuckling into his breakfast with George. I was about to retort when I noticed Ron conversing with no other than Harry Potter! Stunned, I stared at him for a moment.
"Harry Potter?" I asked incredulously.
Mother turned around and glared at the twins and Ron. Her momentary delight seemed to have evaporated.
"You won't believe what those boys have done," she said angrily. "They flew that wretched Muggle car your father's been messing around with, enchanting, all the way to Harry here's house, picked him up and brought him back here. I can't believe it!"
I was dumbfounded, yet swallowed and tried to appear calm and sensible.
"Fred, George, and Ron," I began. "That was extremely reckless. How could you even think of that?"
"People think, Perce," George said, unperturbed. "Besides," he said, through a mouthful of toast, "no one saw us, anyway."
"You don't know that, George," Mother said disapprovingly. "Just wait until your father hears."
"Speaking of dad," Ron said, "he's coming."
His gaze was directed towards the clock on the wall where there was a picture of each member of the family. Dad's hand was traveling from 'work' to 'traveling' and presently reached 'home'. The door opened and Father entered. He murmured greetings to us and practically collapsed in a chair.
"Arthur Weasley, you won't believe what your sons have done," Mother said, and I recognized this as the cue to leave. Mother would begin ranting in a minute. Depositing the Hogwarts letters on the table, I rescued the badge from Mother and hurried upstairs. I felt like dancing a jig. I was a prefect!