Stripped Bare- Chapter 10
In Quality Quidditch Supplies
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter.
Harry and Ron wandered around Quality Quidditch Supplies, waiting for the witch ahead of them to chose the broom she was buying for her son. Ron rolled his eyes as she asked what seemed like her four thousandth question, this one about whether the broom she was holding, a Cleansweep Twelve, had a sufficiant breaking charm.
"She's going to be here all day," Ron muttered to Harry. "We've been waiting for an hour!"
"You have anything better to do?" Harry chuckled, picking up a quaffle and turning it over in his hands. "You really think I should go for the National team next year?" he asked, resuming their topic of conversation.
"Yeah! I'm trying out for Keeper and they could really use you, too. We never lost the House Cup when you were playing at Hogwarts." He snickered. "I still remember how Dobby broke your arm in second year, and all because he was trying to keep you safe," he said as he looked over the wrist guards.
"Don't remind me," Harry groaned. He looked over his shoulder at the witch, who had finally chosen a Shooting Star Five, and was paying for it at that moment. "She's done," he said, putting the quaffle back on the table.
"About time," Ron sighed with relief. "I'm starved!"
"Is that a hint for me to buy you lunch?"
"A subtle one."
"Oh, yeah. Real subtle." They walked to the counter, and Harry asked to see the maker of the brooms for the shop.
"Can I help you, sir?" he asked when he'd come from the back room.
"I hope so. I have a letter from Oliver Wood, and he was asking me if I would check something for him." He pulled the letter from his back pocket. "Would you be able to tell me if there has ever been a broom made from ebony wood?"
"Not to my knowledge, no. But why would Mr. Wood send the letter about that to you? 'I' am the one he's working for," the man said rather haughtilly. Harry gave him a condesending smile and held up the envelope, showing the Muggle postmark.
"He's in an area where there are no wizards, only Muggles, and there aren't too many trees that an owl would enhabit around the area. They would be really suspicious if they saw one and hunt down the reason for it being there. He had to send it by Muggle post." He glanced back at Ron, who was just as put off as he by the man's attitude towards them.
"Oh, well...I had no idea, but the only ones that are to know about the work that Oliver is doing are the two of us."
"Well, if he can't deliver it by owl, he had to send it to someone that he knew that had a Muggle post box, now didn't he?" came Ron's furious retort. The broom maker didn't have the decency to appear ashamed of his behavior toward Harry even now. "And do you have any 'idea' who you're talking to?" The man sighed.
"I appologize, sirs, but I don't think it really matters who you are, what matters is that this broom was to be a complete secret..."
"Harry, I say we get out of here and tell Wood that we couldn't get any help from this guy."
"Harry?" the broom maker croaked in shock.
"Yeah," said Ron. "He's Harry Potter. Thought you would've known that one, as it was 'him' that saved the world from Voldemort!" With that said, Ron turned on his heel and stormed out of the shop.
"Oh, Mr. Potter, I am 'terribly' sorry! Of course if Mr. Wood felt secure enough to entrust you to the knowledge of the broom, then who am I to question him?" Harry smiled wanly and told the man what Oliver's letter had said.
The man gestured for him to follow as two customers came through the door. When he was seated by the broom maker's work area, the man showed Harry the design for the new broom.
"So it's going to be called 'Hurricane'?"
"Oh, yes! Twice as fast as the Firebolt, and even more streamlined."
"So it'll make the Firebolt obsolete?" The broom maker nodded happily. "My last broom was a Firebolt. Lost it when Voldemort was chasing me the summer I turned seventeen."
"You haven't replaced it yet?"
"No."
"Then to show you how sorry I am for my abrupt manner earlier, the minute the finished model is ready, you are the first to get one, free of charge, of course."
"Well, thank you, but it's not neccessary," said Harry.
"I insist, Mr. Potter."
"All right, then." Harry stood and thanked the man. When he returned to the front of the store, the owner stopped him and appologized for the broom maker's attitude.
"He's very secretive about his work and doesn't like people nosing around it. Is there any way Quality Quidditch Supplies can make amends?" Harry thought for a second.
"My friend Ron is on the Chuddly Cannons. Some of them need new shin guards." The owner smiled broadly.
"The best we have in stock!" Ten minutes later, Harry exited the shop, ladden down with the shin guards and met up with a still sullen looking Ron.
"What's that?" Ron asked, indicating the packages.
"The owner gave me these as an apology for the broom maker. It's the Cannon's shin guards." He handed them over to Ron. "The best ones made, for the whole team and the reserves." He headed off towards Florean Fortesue's, leaving Ron staring after him in utter surprise.