Chapter 18: The Firebolt

To Harry's surprise, Luna did not seem overly concerned by the idea that she might be attacked. "After all, that's why you're teaching me to defend myself, right?" the cheerful blonde had explained with a smile.

"Still, I'd rather you not be attacked at all," Harry objected. "You'd think Malfoy would have learned his lesson after what happened the last time he attacked someone."

Luna's face scrunched up in thought. "It's possible that his father arranged for him to see a mind healer."

"A mind healer?" Harry asked. "Like a therapist or a counselor?"

"I'm not sure what those are," Luna confessed. "But I don't think so. A mind healer is someone particularly skilled in the mental art of legilimency who helps people overcome trauma by dampening their memories of the event."

Harry was shocked. "You mean, they made him forget about being tortured by Justice?"

"He likely remembers the details of what happened," Luna replied, shaking her head, "but the actual experience has probably been… muted, so to speak. Like reading about something that happened to someone else as opposed to remembering the sheer terror and panic that he felt that night."

Harry glanced sharply over at Luna. Thanks to his clever use of Timeland, very few people knew that the torture had occurred at night. Almost everyone thought that it had been during the day, which had been the key to the successful defense of the students who had been accused of his crime. So, did Luna just misspeak, or does she know more than she lets on? Unfortunately, there was no good way to ask her.

"Well, be careful," Harry instructed the girl. "I don't like it when my friends get hurt. I'll try to keep an eye on Malfoy, and you're always welcome to join me in the library or, really, anytime outside of class."

"Thank you, Harry, that's very nice," Luna said, beaming.

As he exited the classroom after another excellent lesson on Care of Magical Creatures, Harry's mind was racing with ideas. Given that Dumbledore had required Harry take the class to limit what he learned (or, at least, that's what Harry assumed) it was quite ironic that an innocuous remark from Professor Grubbly-Plank would lay the foundation for what Harry hoped would allow him to accumulate the wealth he would need to change Magical Britain for good. Probably not what Dumbles meant for me to learn, the dark-haired teen thought with a grin.

Making his excuses to Hermione, Harry raced back to the dorm, which would hopefully be empty at this time of day. A quick check showed that his assumption had been correct, and he wasted no time pulling the communicator out of his pocket.

"Connect to Peter," he said clearly, and the magical headset began to ring.

Peter answered almost immediately. "Harry? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Harry quickly replied. "I just got out of creatures, and the teacher said something that gave me an idea that I wanted to run past you." He paused, both to take a breath and to gather his thoughts. "But first, just to confirm, making a pair of matching vanishing cabinets that are larger than normal would not be any more difficult than making a small cabinet like the one you gave me, right?"

There was some confusion in Peter's voice when he finally answered. "You're right, as I understand it, that shouldn't be any more difficult."

"In class, Grubbly-Plank made the comment that when managing creature farms, it can be very useful to consider time to be another resource that should be considered when making decisions. It was in relation to something with Jobberknolls, but I don't really remember what, because I was too busy with this idea. Thanks to my parents' notes on Timeland, we know how to make a facility that is consistently experiencing accelerated time. And with Chad and Connor's discovery, we can make the equipment needed to travel in and out of that facility with ease."

Peter made a soft 'hmm' sound. "So, if we had some sort of automated production facility, we could manufacture items for sale much more quickly than normal." He paused for a moment, and Harry could almost hear him frown. "It could be advantageous in some circumstances, but I'm not sure that it would be worth the expense needed to not only build the facility but also to figure out how to make it completely automated. After all, we couldn't expect employees to shorten their lives by spend long periods of time in the facility."

"I know manufacturing technomancy products was our original idea for making more money, but this is actually separate from that," Harry clarified. "What about a farm, raising self-sufficient creatures? All we would need to do is send in food every so often and the creatures would grow to maturity in just a fraction of the time that it would normally take."

There was a long pause. "That… could really work," Peter said slowly, obviously thinking hard about the idea. "Like you said, the animals would need to be self-sufficient, and the fact that they would be stuck in an enclosed facility might limit what type of creatures we could use. Hippogriffs, for example, probably wouldn't do well if they were kept trapped in a small room. But there are a number of creatures that probably could be raised in those sorts of conditions without any issues."

"I already had an idea for the creature we could raise, although there would be some complications," Harry informed his friend. "What about basilisks? The one in the Chamber of Secrets was fine on its own for centuries, and we made a lot of money from just the one. If we were able to set up the enchantment so that time passed hundreds of times faster inside the facility, we could have a centuries-old basilisk ready for sale in just a year."

"We'd have to build the facility outside of the country," Peter pointed out, though it was clear that he supported Harry's suggestion. "In fact, it would need to be outside of Europe, since the ban on breeding basilisks comes from the ICW. But if we went to a country outside of ICW control, that might work. We could look at some place in East Asia, or perhaps South America."

"So, this idea could work, right?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, this could certainly work," Peter replied enthusiastically. "It's an absolutely brilliant idea. In fact, there are ways that we could bring in a steady stream of money rather than just a lump sum every year. If we could train the basilisks to bite something that collects their venom, we would have a product that could be harvested and sold during the entire year, which would be very beneficial from a business perspective."

Harry frowned. "Isn't basilisk venom incredibly dangerous? I don't like the idea of selling something that is going to be used to kill someone."

Peter chuckled. "A good chunk of the money we made from the basilisk we sold came from the venom, but don't worry about it being used to kill someone. Just the opposite, actually. Basilisk venom is most often used as an extremely effective cure for a number of life-threatening magical diseases like scrofungulus. It costs something like 80 galleons a drop. Anyone who was willing to use such an expensive way to kill someone could find another way if they really wanted. So, no, selling the venom means you will actually be saving lives."

"I'm a little confused how a deadly venom could be used to heal someone, but that can wait for another time," Harry said as he glanced over at the door. "I can't talk for too long, so is there anything else we would need to discuss?"

"Just a few things," his friend replied. "I'll start looking at options for where we could build the facility and get an estimate of the price. I assume it's alright for me to bring Chad and Connor in on this idea? I'd like them to being learning about time compression fields to see if there is anything we need to know."

"Yes, let's keep the details of how it works to people that have signed a contract, but you can tell anyone on the team that you think needs to know," Harry said.

"Great. I also wanted to talk about that monitoring charm that Brian Williams transferred to the necklace you wear," Peter began.

Harry frowned. He'd pretty much forgotten about it, and found himself wondering why Peter was bringing it up.

"I realized that if you're going to be sneaking out of Hogwarts, it would be best to leave the necklace behind so that you can't be tracked. In fact, we really should have thought of that earlier. But I know that Brian said that if the talisman is separated from you by more than a few dozen yards, the charm will break, so I spoke with him, and he thinks that if you leave the charm in a small bowl with some of your blood, that should be enough to sustain the magic for a day or two."

"That's good to know," Harry replied. "When I come in over Christmas break I'll be sure to do that. Anything else?"

"Just wanted to know if you'd made a decision about what kind of broom you want. I could buy it for you and send it to you as an anonymous present from a fan," Peter suggested.

Harry thought for a moment. "Let's go for a Firebolt," he finally decided. "It's expensive, but I've got plenty of money, and if this time compression farm idea works out, there will be lots more coming in as well." He deliberately didn't mention that part of his decision was also based on the look of jealousy that he could easily imagine on Malfoy's face. It'd serve that blonde wanker right.

"Okay, I'll get that taken care of," Peter promised. "And that's everything I wanted to talk about."

"Great, thank you."

As Harry had hoped, Luna soon became a common fixture in their little group. She often sat with Neville, Hermione and him in the library, the fact that she was a year behind them not causing any problems. She focused on her homework while the other three did theirs, an arrangement which worked well for everyone, though Harry and Neville often ended up sharing grins at how quickly her occasional comments about undiscovered animals could drive Hermione to distraction.

Not that Hermione was the only one occasionally frustrated by the current situation. Harry was quite irritated to discover that Malfoy seemed to have learned something about subtlety and discretion. Harry could often see the blond boy loitering about, presumably hoping to find a time when Luna was alone, but he never did anything overt – just glanced in their general direction every so often.

Finally, Harry had had enough. "Luna, I really hate to do this, but why don't we have you leave early today and we can see if Malfoy follows you. I'll be right behind him so that he can't do anything to you," he quickly promised, "but if he does plan to attack you, it would be better that we deal with it now."

"Oh, you want to use me as bait," Luna replied cheerfully.

"Well… yes," Harry finally admitted, once more cringing at Luna's tendency to be shockingly blunt about delicate topics.

"Okay," the blond girl said as she gathered her books and other possessions into her bag and walked out without another word.

"Do you really think Malfoy's going to attack her?" Neville asked, a little skeptically.

Harry shrugged. "That's what my secretive new friend thinks," he replied.

"And you're really okay with not knowing who it is?" Hermione asked. "That doesn't sound like you at all."

"I promised I wouldn't try to identify them," he said, hoping that she didn't notice he hadn't actually answered the question. While he had told his friends about his informant, he hadn't mentioned that he was using omnioculars and the Marauder's Map to keep track of everyone who went down that particular aisle in the library at a time when a new note appeared. Cross-referencing that list with members of the Inquisitorial Squad and people who had avoided the prank on Sunday left just a few suspects. With any luck, he would have an answer soon.

That train of thought was interrupted by Neville's warning. "Malfoy just left," his friend said softly.

"Keep an eye on my stuff," he instructed his friends as he grabbed his wand and walked swiftly toward the door. Pausing for a moment to cast a notice-me-not charm on himself, he followed the blonde Slytherin, not surprised to see the two gorillas were accompanying Malfoy.

As he stalked quietly after the Slytherin students, Harry was amused when he realized that both he and Malfoy seemed to have two people they spent most of their time with. I wonder if anyone ever calls them the 'silver trio', he thought as he remembered the times he had overheard people referring to his group as the 'golden trio'.

He pushed these thoughts out of his head and focused on the task at hand as his targets began to pick up speed. Ahead, Malfoy turned down one of the side corridors, and Harry raced to catch up. He had almost arrived when he heard his enemy yelling.

"You think you can make up lies like that in that garbage pile you call a newspaper without being punished?" the pale boy shouted.

As he peered around the corner, Harry was unsurprised to see the three boys surrounding Luna, though only Malfoy had his wand in hand. Of course, given Crabbe and Goyle's almost complete lack of ability with spellcasting, they were probably more dangerous with just their fists.

"If you consider The Quibbler to be a garbage pile, why are you concerned with what claims we may have made?" Luna asked fearlessly.

Malfoy sputtered for a moment. "You're going to pay for what you said," he vowed as he raised his wand.

Harry had heard enough. "Expelliarmus," he called as he stepped around the corner. Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand, and all three Slytherins turned in shock. The two larger boys charged at Harry, but he quickly incapacitated them with stunners.

"Malfoy, I'm going to make this very, very clear," Harry said as he walked casually toward the panicking boy. "If anything happens to Luna, I will hold you responsible, and I will make whatever Justice did to you seem like a fond memory." He had finally arrived within reach of the blond boy, and Harry took the opportunity to grab him by the front of his robes and pull Malfoy close so that they were almost nose to nose. "Is that understood?"

Malfoy nodded frantically. So close to his supposed nemesis, Harry was reminded of how much of a difference the months he had spent in Timeland made. By now he was probably about two and half years older than he should be. He was a good five or six inches taller than Malfoy, and outweighed the other boy by at least forty pounds, all of it solid muscle, in stark contrast to the spoiled brat in front of him who had probably never exercised a day in his life.

"Good," Harry said as he released the other boy's robe. "Don't forget it. I won't," he added ominously. A lazy wave of his wand revived the other Slytherins. "Get out of here."

The three boys were almost tripping over themselves in their haste to comply.

Harry was unsurprised when he was given detention for, as Umbridge put it, 'spellcasting in the halls and interrupting a civil discussion'. Though it was, of course, ridiculous that he was punished while Malfoy and his goons were not, it was a small price to pay if it meant that Luna was safe. Harry was surprised, however, when he learned that rather than serving the detention with the toad-like teacher, his punishment would instead by overseen by Professor Flitwick.

Is he trying to help me out because he knows I was protecting someone from his house? Harry pondered this idea for some time, but there was no way to tell. Flitwick himself didn't give any clues on the matter, simply greeting Harry neutrally when he arrived each evening and began working on the lines he had been assigned.

His punishment lasted two weeks, and the Christmas holidays were just around the corner. Gryffindor's Quidditch team, having finally received permission to re-form, had resumed practice three days a week under the direction of their fanatical captain, though Harry wasn't really sure what purpose his attendance served given that he didn't have a broom. He was stuck using one of the school's communal Shooting Stars, which, despite what the name might imply, were about the slowest thing that he could imagine. At times, Harry debated the merits of strapping a fan to his back to provide a little extra propulsion, and, of course, Oliver's increasingly frequent queries about when Harry would get a new broom only increased his frustration. He couldn't admit that he was expecting to get a Firebolt for Christmas, obviously, as that would ruin the whole 'surprise gift from an anonymous fan' plan that he and Peter had come up with to hide the resources Harry had available outside of his Gringotts vault, which was under Dumbledore's control.

As if long hours of Quidditch practice weren't enough, many of the teachers were taking advantage of the upcoming break to assign extra homework, but that wasn't what Harry was focused on. Instead, he was frowning as he poured over a list of names and dates.

The reason for his somewhat disgruntled state was that a new message had been left for him in the library, and not one of his suspects had gone anywhere near the aisle.

Does she have another way to get messages into that aisle? A house-elf, maybe? He paused to contemplate this possibility for a while before something else occurred to him. My assumption that my informant is female comes from the fact that the only ones to dodge the Weasley's prank were girls from the lower years. But perhaps the informant warned others but deliberately allowed him or herself to be hit to allay suspicion. So, it could be a boy after all.

Harry sat up in shock as another possibility crossed his mind. Or is my informant actually two people? To be honest, Harry was surprised that it had taken this long to consider that option. In fact, the informant wouldn't have to explain what he or she is up to. They could instead rely on a trusted friend to leave the message in the appropriate place even without telling them everything.

With this new thought in mind, he examined the lists once more.

"Hey Neville," Harry began. "I have a very random question that I would prefer you not think too much about why I am asking it."

Neville blinked a few times, clearly confused. "Okay," the other boy said slowly, still giving Harry a strange look. "I promise not to wonder why you are asking the question."

"What do you know about Daphne Greengrass?" Harry asked.

Neville frowned, clearly not having expected that question. "Umm, she's actually a pretty nice girl, though she tends to act kind of cold and uncaring." The blond Gryffindor frowned. "Or, at least, she used to be a nice girl. I don't really know her that well. We were kind of friends when we were younger, but then we… weren't."

Harry couldn't help but notice that Neville looked very uncomfortable. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," he assured his friend.

Neville shrugged. "No, it's fine," he responded in a deliberately casual voice. "I do know that her cousin was a Death Eater, but he was quite a bit older than her, so that's not… incriminating or anything. To be honest, I imagine that most purebloods had at least one close relative on each side of the war."

Harry considered admitting that he suspected Greengrass was his Slytherin informant (her close friend Tracey Davis having been one of the very few people who had traversed that particular aisle during the time when the latest note had been left) but ultimately decided against it.

"Thanks," he said simply.

Classes ended the next day, and all the students (with the possible exception of Hermione, or Percy Weasley, whose nose had been charmed a very distinctive shade of brown by his brothers' latest prank) were looking forward to two blissful weeks without school. A blanket of white had settled over the grounds, and students took advantage of the free time to hold a rousing snowball fight. Dozens of students joined in, and soon, the stalwart forces of Fort Gryffindor were engaged in a bitter battle with their rivals from across the field, the loyal disciples of Hufflepuff Citadel.

Even with the aid of warming and drying charms, the participants were tired and cold in the end, but everyone had had a good time. This, of course, didn't stop Harry or the others from taking advantage of Hogwarts' unlimited supply of hot water as they soaked in the showers for the better part of an hour.

When they finally climbed into their beds, the boys all drifted off to sleep quickly.

Harry woke the next morning to see that Neville was already up and was gathering a few items that he would be taking home for the Holidays.

"Looking forward to going home?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, sort of," Neville responded noncommittally. "To be honest, a few weeks at home with just my Gran isn't all that great compared to being here with friends and other people my age, but there's some… traditions that I wouldn't want to miss, so it's okay."

Despite his curiosity, Harry could tell that whatever Neville was referring to was both private and sensitive. "Well, I hope you have a good time," he said genuinely. "Ready for breakfast?"

The days passed quickly, and before Harry knew it, Christmas had come. Ron Weasley, who had stayed at Hogwarts with his brothers, had not hesitated to wake Harry up by throwing a pillow at him. "Presents, Harry!" the boy exclaimed.

Harry sat up, stretching as his mouth opened uncontrollably in a massive yawn. Suddenly, the realization that his Firebolt was in the pile of presents at the foot of his bed flashed through his mind, and he shot out of bed. He'd been looking forward to this for weeks.

Knowing that as soon as he held the new broom, he wouldn't be able to focus on any of the other presents, Harry decided to set the long, thin package that undoubtedly held his Firebolt aside for last. He set to the task at hand with gusto, carefully keeping track of each present and who had sent it so that he could be sure to thank them.

Most of the presents were the usual. Candy was the most common, though there was also a fair assortment of Quidditch memorabilia, a few articles of clothing, and even a book. What made it even more shocking was that the book was not from Hermione. It was from Luna. Harry picked it up and studied it closely. Though it was clearly very old, it was in excellent condition, obviously having been cared for.

"The Merlinian Discourses," he read softly as he rubbed a finger over the gold letters on the cover. For some reason, that name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Her enclosed note had explained that she had noticed his interest in the Gate of Avalon, and thought he might be interested in this. Harry smiled. It was nice of his new friend to pay such close attention. The postscript that she also thought this would help him fulfill his destiny left him scratching his head a little, though.

And finally, it was time to open the last present. As he pulled the wrapping paper a side, Harry couldn't help but suck in a deep breath of appreciation at his first sight of the sleek, beautifully polished broomstick.

"Whuzzat, 'Arry?" came Ron's muffled voice, his mouth full of candy.

At this moment, the door opened, and Hermione entered.

"Merlin, Hermione, don't you knock?" the redheaded boy protested. "What if we were naked?"

"I could hear you talking," the girl replied, rolling her eyes. "So unless you routinely hold conversations in the nude, it was obviously fine to come in."

Harry forced himself not to point out that it would still be polite. While he and Hermione had managed to put their fight behind them, that didn't mean that everything had gone back to how it was. There was still some tension in the air between them, and he didn't want to get into a fight, especially on Christmas.

"To answer your question Ron, it's… well, it's a Firebolt."

There was a moment of silence as Ron looked over at him, eyes wide. "A Firebolt? A Firebolt? The broom Quidditch Weekly declared as being the single greatest development in broom design since the addition of padding charms on the seat? That Firebolt?"

"That Firebolt," Harry agreed.

"Who sent it to you?" Hermione asked, her voice holding a note of suspicion.

"The note just said it was a fan who had heard that I lost my other broom," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron said breathlessly. "A real Firebolt!"

Hermione did not look so excited. Instead, if Harry judged correctly, she was quite nervous. "This is a really expensive broom, right?"

"It probably cost more than all the Slytherin team's brooms together," Ron crowed.

"And whoever sent it made no attempt to identify himself or herself?" Hermione continued.

"Nope," Harry said, holding the note for her to see. "It just says 'a fan'. I guess someone out there really likes me."

"Or they really hate you," Hermione countered, her voice a little shrill. "Harry, did it occur to you that this could be another attempt on your life?"

Harry froze. How did we miss that? Of course, without being able to explain that he actually knew where it came from, he would be unable to explain why was unconcerned about Hermione's suggestion.

"Nobody would sent an expensive broom as part of a plot to kill someone," Ron stated definitively.

"The ingredients for that potion weren't cheap either, but they deliberately used that to try to kill him," Hermione argued.

Harry tuned out the bickering as he tried to think of a good solution to this problem.

"Harry, you need to tell Professor McGonagall. They can check it over to make sure that it hasn't been tampered with," Hermione said urgently.

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, though, he had to admit that Hermione did have a point. If it really had been anonymous, that would be extremely suspicious.

His eyes turned to the broom once more, and he noticed a detail he had forgotten before. "Every Firebolt has an identification number on the shaft," he said, thinking quickly. "They should be able to track it and find out where it was purchased. The wrapping paper was Quidditch-themed, so it was probably shipped directly from Quality Quidditch Supplies. If that is the case, there wouldn't have been any opportunity to tamper with it."

Hermione was unconvinced. "I still think that you should tell Professor McGonagall."

"Well, I don't think I should," Harry responded firmly.

Hermione glared at him before turning and walking out of the dorm.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The Christmas feast was fantastic, as always, and soon Harry was back in Gryffindor Tower, in high spirits after stuffing himself with delicious food.

That good mood, however, did not last for long.

Harry had agreed to play a few games of chess with Ron, and they had appropriated one of the tables in the common room and were just beginning their first game when McGonagall entered the room, looking even more severe than usual.

"Mister Potter, I understand that you have received a new broom," she said, her eyes fixed on him. "May I ask where it is?"

"May I ask why you care?" Harry responded, trying to control his anger. Hermione!

"A broom is an unusually expensive gift to receive out of the blue, Mister Potter. Given the recent attempts on your life, we need to inspect it to ensure that it is safe."

Ron had evidently reached the same conclusion as Harry, for he turned his head to glare at the bushy-haired girl. "I can't believe you told her!"

"I didn't!" Hermione shot back.

"No, she didn't," the professor agreed. "Though she should have. Actually, Mister Weasley, I overheard you entreating Mister Potter to allow you to ride on his new broom."

Harry smiled tightly. "Regardless, Professor, there is no need for the faculty to get involved. I have already written a letter to Quality Quidditch Supplies asking if they can track how the broom arrived here, if there was any opportunity for someone to sabotage it, and if they have any experts who can examine it just to be sure."

"That is good of you to be careful, Mister Potter, but you are a student at this school and Professor Dumbledore is your rightful guardian. We need to examine it personally to ensure that it is safe," McGonagall replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Harry groaned. Well, it'll take a few days to get a reply back from QQS, and by that time McGonagall and Dumbledore will have realized there's nothing wrong with it. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly.

"Excellent," the professor replied. "Please go up and fetch it, and I will take it with me now."

Harry's only reply was to sigh and rise from his chair. A minute later he was back in the common room. He handed the broom over without a word, something which obviously displeased the professor, judging by the tightening of her eyes and flaring of her nostrils as she turned to leave.

Harry turned to see that Hermione had approached him, looking serious.

"You thought I told her," she said, her voice holding a note of accusation.

"Yes, I did," Harry replied after a moment.

"Well, I didn't. I promised I wouldn't try to make decisions for you, and I keep my promises. But I'm glad she found out." Hermione's voice choked up a little bit as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "It's no use for me to get to say 'I told you so' if you're dead, Harry." Not waiting for a reply, she turned and walked up the staircase to the girls' dormitories.

Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off the oncoming headache. And to think I was looking forward to today.