Warning: TAKES PLACE A FULL YEAR AFTER THE FIFTH BOOK! SPOILERS!
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This takes place after the story, the Blue Bloods. It is recommended you read that first before reading this continuation. You do not have to though since all is explained. Sequel in progress, the Tempest of Time.
Chapter I: The SilverstarWith You Know Who defeated, the wizardry realm was at peace once again. They still could not speak his name without flinching, but the fear of his return was over. Shopkeepers took down their boards off windows and started filling them with colorful candy jars and shelves of new broomsticks.
Young wizards started to roam through Diagon Alley as if it had been many years ago, gawking through the windows and pointing at all the delicious items they wanted to get. But the most stared at item was not something edible.
It was the Silverstar, an even better broomstick than the Firebolt. Faster than all others and with a silver glittering handle, it surpassed any other. Of course, it was nearly twice the amount of galleons than the Firebolt cost. Only a few of them were made and rumors spread that only one Silverstar had been purchased. No one knew who could ever dream to afford such a thing.
After days of rumors buzzing around, the newly reformed Daily Prophet got it hands into the matter. On the front page in bold letters wrote:
Silverstar Owner Unmasked By Dickory GrimesAfter Rita Skeeter was fired, her replacement was just as bad. Dickory Grimes, a younger version of Rita, had been howling for the last year over the You Know Who story and how he was defeated. Although most of his information was wrong, the public still gripped every word he said. And so, this article struck the eyes of every wizard out there, including Harry Potter.
Ever since Harry moved into the home of his late godfather, Sirius Black, life could not have been more hectic. Well, the house was rather empty for starters, not counting the occasionally visits of Ron. The only others there were Dobby (whose company was more of a torture than anything else), Neville Longbottom, and Hagrid. For the most part, Neville was visiting his parents and kept to himself. And as for Hagrid… He was a great friend, but not much of a provider. Harry was in charge of the food shopping and used many spells to clean up the house with.
And now, alone in the dwelling not too far from Hogwarts on August 23rd, Harry picked up the Daily Prophet and gasped. He read aloud to himself:
"It is my pleasure to inform the public of this latest discovery. A few hours ago, Mister Weevil from Ministry of Mysteries came out with the true owner of the famed Silverstar. Lucius Malfoy, who asked the dealer previously of this prized broomstick not to reveal his purchase to the public, has now admitted to buying the Silverstar for his son, Draco Malfoy.
And I quote, 'With the Quidditch World Cup only a few short years away, my son needs the best money can by, and the Silverstar is by far the best.'
Young Draco Malfoy is attending his 7th year at Hogwarts School with infamous Harry Potter, who we will of course be interviewing shortly over the dealings with his godfather Sirius."
Harry dropped the paper in disgust, but not at the mentioning of Sirius. He was disgusted about the Silverstar. How could Malfoy have a better broomstick than he had? The Slytherins were sure to win this year in school and with all the publicity, Mr. Malfoy could be right. Draco could play in the Quidditch World Cup because of his rich father and that Silverstar.
Could he be jealous of Malfoy? He dismissed the thought immediately, and then jolted at the noise of his Firebolt. It raced toward him, knocking over his books and his wand.
"I didn't call for you," he said to himself, stunned at why his broomstick was hovering a few feet in front of him. It was as though it had a mind of its own and was jealous of Harry's envy for a Silverstar.
After a few minutes, Harry grabbed the Firebolt and placed it back in the corner underneath the cloth that had been tossed to the ground. He walked back to the table and picked up his new books freshly bought for school. The Daily Prophet was now lying on the ground with a moving picture staring upward at him. Harry lifted it and recognized a face.
"Charlie!" Harry yelled, seeing Ron Weasley's older brother next to a bunch of much older wizards trying to tame a dragon. It seemed there was some trouble with a dragon family in Greece. After reading over the article, Harry shuddered.
"I wouldn't want to be in his shoes right now," he said, placing the article back down the desk. Suddenly, the paper flew towards his face, nearly causing Harry to fall over. He yanked it off his face and turned to see the Firebolt again, but this time, it seemed to be glowing red.
"What's the matter with you?" Harry asked in an annoyed voice, grabbing hold of his broomstick. He couldn't let go. The Firebolt started to rise, pulling Harry off the ground. He now dangled a few inches from where he was, holding onto the handle with his two vein popping hands.
Harry managed to swivel his body to the right and lasso his legs onto his broomstick. It felt as though he were back at Hogwarts, on the Quidditch field and ready to fly. But, this wasn't a field, and the ceiling rubbed against his scalp.
"Get back down!" Harry yelled, leaning downward on his broom. It did move, but not down.
Suddenly, Harry shot forward at incredible speeds and was heading straight for the wall. He reached into his pocket and realized his wand was still on the floor after being knocked off the table. What was he going to do? Within in a few seconds he'd reach it!
Harry closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. He had defeated You Know Who, so he could surely withstand the impact of a wall. But he did not hit anything at all. Harry opened his eyes to see that the broom had stopped not even half a centimeter away from the wall. He let out a big sigh of relief and tried to jump off the broom.
It wouldn't let him though. His hands felt like they were glued to the handle and with all his strength, he couldn't budge. And then he heard the most faint voice whisper,
"May we have a fly?"
Harry spun his head around. "Who said that?"
"I'm right here! Are you blind?"
"I don't—" Harry then looked down at the Firebolt. Two crimson eyes and small lips appeared in the knotted wood. It smiled at Harry who jerked back a little. "You're alive?"
It laughed in a high-pitched voice. "Of course I am! And you haven't been flying me lately! What's wrong?"
Harry couldn't believe it. He was talking to a broomstick. A broomstick! Never in the past six years had he heard Hermione tell him that they were alive. Maybe I did hit that wall, Harry thought.
"Don't tell me you didn't know!" Its voice changed from a tiny squeak to a loud boom. "We are all alive, Harry. It is not our nature to talk to our masters, but if the time comes when a broom is being neglected…"
Harry gasped. "I've been neglecting you?" He seemed even more repulsed than he did finding out Draco had a Silverstar. "The nerve. Take me down this instant!"
The broomstick's eyes closed, and Harry fell down to the floor with a loud thump. He got up and wiped off the dust from the Weasley sweater he was wearing. Then, he picked the Firebolt up and said, "Look, I haven't forgotten about you. Hagrid just didn't want me riding you around this summer. If I had fallen off you and gotten hurt… Well, I probably wouldn't see you for a long time."
The face did not reappear though. Was the Firebolt mad at him? Harry laughed at the thought. "I can't believe I was just talking to a broomstick," he said, and threw the broom onto the blue velvet cough across from the fireplace. Harry then grabbed his wand on the table and placed it in his back jean pocket.
For the next few days, the talk about the Silverstar did not die down. Every front-page article in wizard papers was showing off Malfoy's new toy, and what sickened Harry more was that he knew he was jealous of Draco. Who wouldn't be? It had sleek handling, a shiny grip, and special coating so that all the elements were repelled from it. And all Harry had was a talking broom that wouldn't speak to him now!
Even if Hagrid allowed him to fly, it was doubtful that Harry could. Most of his days were spent writing letters to Hermione over Ron's illness. There were still hopes he could be cured in time for school, but that started in only three days. Ever since he was zapped with the killing curse the previous year, Ron had been in a coma. Hermione actually considered him lucky because he was supposed to die if it hadn't been for Harry's noble rescue. Ron was hit though with a slightly less powerful version of the spell. Some Doctors said he would be fine, but others took it more seriously and had been preparing everyone for the worse.
Hermione's last letter was shorter than all her others, but still contained the sweet, overbearing sentiment it always did:
Dear Harry,
Doctor Polifer has got everyone so worried. He says Ron won't last the night, but I beg to differ. Ron's shown improvements over the past few weeks. All his bones are mended and his heartbeat is back to normal. I used an Awakening spell on him, but it didn't work. Polifer yelled at me as if my spell was going to make matters worse. What an idiot! He hasn't even tried a Resurrecting Potion yet! I'm not surprised Dumbledore called him away today. Yes, I saw Dumbledore, Harry! He says hi and wishes to see you immediately when you return. I will see in a few days, meet me at the Hogwarts Express like usual and don't forget Ron's books!
Love,
Hermione