"I am returning your Firebolt to your possession, Mr. Potter –M. McGonagall"
The note lay upon the crimson carpet, wrinkled and frayed, a teardrop marring the word "Potter" had staining through the parchment.
The recipient of the letter was not in the room, for he was as alone as the solitary parchment. As stained as the correspondence, Harry Potter had earned his tears.
If they wished, all the world could see Harry Potter in his moment of weakness at the highest tower in all of Hogwarts, the astronomy tower, where his collapse was welcome.
Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?
"GOD DAMN YOU SIRIUS BLACK," rang through the Hogwarts courtyard for the early morning breeze to steal. "Why did you have to leave me?" A fresh sob followed the words into the distance, tears falling down Harry's face.
This is an international standard broom, this is!
Snap. Snap. SnapSnapSnap.
The ground became littered with twigs, blending in with the grass as they finally fluttered out of motion and became as dead as everything else in Harry's world.
And at long last, Harry mounted his Firebolt and kicked off from the ground.
Finally mounting the former broom, Harry kicked off the ground into the rising sun and followed the path of the twigs before him. "Goodbye, Sirius."