The Hogwarts Express was going to leave in less than two hours, and Harry still had not left the home of the late Sirius Black. He could not ride his broom there, the Weasleys were too busy to fly him, and there was no sign of Hagrid. Perhaps he forgot? He couldn't have though. Harry could not wait any longer. He grabbed a piece of parchment and scribbled,
Hagrid:
I left for Hogwarts at 9:30. So don't worry. I used the Flo Powder.
From,
Harry
He placed the paper on the desk and gathered his things quickly.
"Seven books for me and seven for Ron, my wand, my suitcase," Harry turned to the empty cage across the room. He was happy that Hedwig was living in a new home, but still missed him very much. Taking care of Pig for Ron wasn't easy though. The smaller cage sitting on the desk contained one very noisy owl. It seemed to love showing off more than Draco did, constantly banging against the cage bars and chirping a song. Harry grabbed his cage and placed it on the top of his wagon. "I think that's it."
Harry then turned to the corner where his broom was. He had almost forgotten it. Maybe he had been neglecting it, but it wasn't entirely his fault. Harry rushed over to the corner, grabbed the Firebolt and tucked it on the side of the wagon. After a few seconds of looking it over, Harry headed toward the fireplace.
He had never used Flo Powder without the supervision of an adult before. It would take him a few feet away from the train station into a log cabin built last year for the use of wizards. With the dust already in his hand, Harry shouted the name of the cabin loudly and clearly,
"The Kadabra Cabin!"
When Harry reopened his eyes, he found himself in a crowded room full of young wizards. By the look of the Muggle clock through the window, they still had fifteen minutes before the train left. Many of the wizards were already leaving except for one very welcoming face.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted with glee, racing over toward the fireplace. She helped him wheel out his wagon and dusted off his shoulders. "Where's Hagrid?"
He didn't want to admit that Hagrid probably forgot today was the day they would leave for Hogwarts. "He really wanted to come, but he's been rather busy with his teaching plans."
"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "He will be there on time, won't he?"
Harry nodded, "Of course."
The two headed out toward Hogwart's Express, exchanging glances every few minutes. Things definitely were not the same without Ron around to share their jokes. Last year was the most horrific one, and even though it only lasted a few months before they closed it down for the rest of the school year, Harry had grown very close to Hermione. Not romantically of course, but a tight bond that no argument could ever break.
The first person they saw when getting onto the train was none other than Draco Malfoy, holding his Silverstar high for everyone to see. Immediately noticing Harry and Hermione, Draco withdrew his attention from his broomstick for a few seconds to shout,
"Oh look! It's Mr. and Mrs. Potter! Have you two heard about my Silverstar?" Before they could respond, Draco answered himself. "Of course you have! Your Firebolt looks pretty pathetic compared to this!" He waved it up high so everyone on the train, even those not in the Slytherin House, could awe at it.
Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve to move along, but Harry wanted to prove to Draco that the Silverstar was not the best, even though Harry secretly thought it was.
"Does your broom talk?" Harry asked, realizing what an idiot he sounded like.
Draco didn't hear him though, too busy showing off his Silverstar to everyone on the train. Before Harry could shout the question again, Hermione had pulled him into an empty compartment and thrown him onto a seat.
"Hermione!"
She hushed him and looked very grim. "You never told me your Firebolt was a Driveller!"
"A what?"
She sighed. "You said your broom could talk! It's just like your Parseltongue gift. Only a select few can do it."
Harry looked confused. "Oh, but my broom gave me the impression that all brooms could talk..."
"No," Hermione seemed very upset. "You don't understand. A talking broom is a bad broom. The first ones were used centuries ago to shout out spells during games and wars so that other opponents or enemies, would, well, die."
"I don't believe my Firebolt—"
"You said it yourself. It already deceived you by making you think nothing of its abilities. What if you never mentioned this to me and during the next Quidditch game—"
Harry's face was red as he yelled, "Hermione! Don't worry so much! No one is going to take control of my broom and make it shout out curses. It's not even speaking to me because it's mad at me…"
Hermione and Harry seemed to share the same thought at the same time. If the Firebolt were mad at him, it would try to do those things not to hurt others but to hurt Harry.
"I think you should tell Dumbledore about this."
"But what if he takes it away from me?" Harry asked. "Then Draco will have the greatest broomstick ever, and I will have nothing at all!"
"Oh, Harry, don't be ridiculous. All Dumbledore has to do is say Idiomne with his wand and your broom will never speak a word."
"Why can't I just do that now?" Harry reached for his wand.
"No! You can't! It's too advanced for you. You might wind up shutting your own mouth or something worse."
Hermione seemed rather protective of Harry lately. You Know Who was gone, so why was she still so concerned? No one was out to get Harry now. And with Hagrid looking over him, it seemed very unlikely anybody would dare come after him.
In either case, Harry had to admit she was right. In a few hours, they would arrive at Hogwarts, and he'd tell Dumbledore everything. But until then, Harry had to put up with the constant interruptions of people asking questions about what happened last year. He didn't want to answer any of them.
After he saw Neville rush pass the room (he had been at St. Mungo and got a ride with the Weasleys), Hermione raised her wand at the door and shouted,
"Claudere et Cataracta!"
Bolts appeared along the side of the door and glowed every few seconds. She smiled and turned to Harry saying,
"There, no more disturbances."
Harry was relived. If one more person came knocking at their door, he would have surely used a dangerous spell against them. All of a sudden, Harry realized he hadn't heard the chirps of Pig for a while. He turned to his cage that was on the seat next to them.
"He's not dead is he?"
Harry grabbed the cage and moved it closer to him. He opened the door to find Pig sleeping with a small blanket around him. It was definitely one of Dobby's socks that was knitted for Ron last Christmas.
Crookshanks lurched nearby, pawing in between the metal bars. After petting Pig on the head, Harry swooshed the cat away with his hand and sat down calmly on his cushioned seat. Soon he'd be at Hogwarts, trying to enjoy one of his last years without Ron and without trouble.
Hermione grabbed her cat off the ground, scratched it underneath its chin and glared at Harry.
"You won't forget to tell Dumbledore about your Driveller, will you? Promise me you'll tell him right away," she said in a commanding tone.
He nodded saying, "Of course. Look, if it makes you feel any better, you can come with me and make sure I don't conveniently forget."
"Well, all right…" Her eyes peered at the Firebolt covered up in a thick blanket. Finally she said, "How many times has it spoken to you?"
"Only once actually," he said. "A few days ago."
Hermione's eyes widened. "That recent?" She seemed awfully worried about this. "Don't you see? Of all days to make contact with you, it chose only a week or so before you would return to school."
"Are you implying that it was going to kill me? All it wanted to do was fly with me."
A loud groan escaped from Hermione's mouth. "You didn't, did you?"
"Of course not. That's why it was angry with me. It said I had been neglecting it all summer, which I suppose I did now that I think about it. But it's a broomstick! What possible feelings can it have? It doesn't have any more than those books of yours."
"Harry! Are you that dumbfounded? It was mad at you because it didn't get the chance to kill you. Drivellers are alive like you and me. They can think, they can talk, and they can murder!"
This was too much to take in. "Why haven't I heard of this before?"
"Because it's very rare. Only few cases were ever reported in the History of Magic, but no details were ever given as to how or why certain brooms have this ability. However, I think," Hermione paused, taking in a few deep breathes, "I think whoever sold," she paused momentarily but continued, "sold Sirius," she coughed, "that Firebolt knew well already it was a Driveller. Perhaps an enemy of yours in the past."
"Which one?" Harry asked, chuckling a little.
"This isn't funny at all, not at all. Don't touch it!" Hermione yelled; Harry was about to pull off the blanket covering the Firebolt.
"And why not? Maybe if you talk to it we can find out more about it."
Hermione's face was very pale. "Oh yes, bright idea. Let it put a curse on me, and then, let it attack you!"
Abruptly, there was a banging on the door. A familiar, most unwelcome voice boomed in through the locked entryway.
"Are you two making out in there?"
It was Draco Malfoy. Perhaps his Silverstar was boring him or who couldn't resist the chance to annoy Harry and Hermione. Draco made kissing noises along with Crabbe and Goyle who seemed to never leave Draco's side. Their laughs died out after a while for no apparent reason.
Hermione walked toward the door, said "Alohomora" and pushed opened the door. There stood Professor McGonagall with her large eyes staring deep into Hermione's. Without questioning their activity, although she most likely suspected what Draco had, she said,
"We have arrived at Hogwarts. I suggest you two gather your things and follow me with the rest of the upper class wizards."
She turned her back for a few minutes while Harry and Hermione grabbed everything they could. They hurried along toward the exit where the Silverstar still diverted all the attention of new wizards and Slytherins.
However, Hagrid was not there to greet him. A confused look crossed Harry's face, expecting Hagrid to have made somehow.
"Oh, I completely forgot! How stupid of me! Hagrid won't be here for another day." Harry gave Hermione a puzzled look, unsure of how she knew this. "I wrote to him last week, and he told me he was arranging a surprise. I don't know what, so don't ask. But he will be here after the Sorting Hat ceremony. I'm sorry. I really did forget."
Even though Harry was a little disappointed, he was still happy to be at Hogwarts. Autumn leaves crunched underneath the students' feet as close to one hundred new wizards scrambled about. He got the usual stares and points directed at his forehead. By now, Harry was used to it and didn't even think much of all his glorious fame.
The Gryffindors swarmed around Harry, tugging him one way and then the other. From a few feet away, he saw Hermione glaring at him with her eye lashes fluttering up and down. Standing next to her was Dumbledore who was busy greeting the new children. He then turned to Hermione who seemed to tell him everything, but his face didn't look worried.
When the crowd saw Draco, they actually left Harry in a heartbeat, too eager to see a Silverstar up close and maybe even touch it. With the followers disembarked, Harry ran over toward Dumbledore with his covered up Firebolt beside him. After waiting a few seconds, the old white bearded man turned his head to meet Harry's eyes and delightfully grabbed the Firebolt out of Harry's hands. As he took off the blanket, Hermione jolted behind Harry, afraid that it would shout the Killing Curse at her or something.
"Indeed," he said in a deep, elderly voice. His half moon spectacles were at the edge of his nose that was a few inches away from the broomstick. He inspected it thoroughly, sliding his rough hands over the broom's surface. "What is its name?"
"Name?" Harry asked having no idea that it was actually called something. Dumbledore nodded his head.
"Yes, its name. Surely you know your own Firebolt's name?" The confused look on Harry's face told him his answer. "I suppose I will have to awaken it."
Hermione yelled, "Awaken it! You can't!"
Dumbledore stared at her asking, "I am puzzled by your protest. Explain."
"Obviously it wants to hurt Harry because of the incident that I told you about."
"Nonsense. Stand back," Dumbledore said pushing Hermione aside. Using an ancient wand in his hand, he swooshed at the broomstick and shouted, "Nondomientus"
Two red irises stared at the magical beings around her and blinked a few times before she realized who it was looking at her. Resentment smeared across her face, if that could be called a face.
"There now, she's awake."
"She?" Harry said, wondering why Dumbledore referred to his broomstick as a she.
"Yes, that's a female Driveller."
"Of course," Hermione said gleefully, "a female's eyes are red while the male's are blue."
"She'll only talk to you, Harry," Dumbledore said, "since you are her owner."
Stumbling forward toward the Firebolt, Harry asked, "Erm, ah, do you have a name?"
The Firebolt said in a monotone voice, "Malicia… But Harry Potter would not know my name… Harry Potter has forgotten all about me. I do not wish to talk to Harry Potter."
Her eyelids started to fall until Harry shouted, "I'm sorry, Malicia! I did not want to admit before that I had 'neglected' you, but I did."
Malicia's eyes shone once again as her lips moved. "You have brought me to Hogwarts? You will fly with me once again?"
Before Harry could answer, Dumbledore stepped forward and placed his hand on the Firebolt.
"I am Professor Dumbledore. I wish to question you, Malicia."
"I will answer only if Harry Potter promises to fly with me."
Harry nodded his head, and the broom's lips widened. Dumbledore dragged the broom in the air and quickly said to Harry and Hermione,
"It would be best if I were to question her alone. I recommend you go to the Sorting Hat ceremony. I will be there very shortly."
And with that they were off. It was always wonderful to see who would join their house, the Gryffindors. There were some Muggle born wizards this year, and Hermione really wanted to meet them.
They were a few feet into the corridor when a cold presence surrounded them. Hermione looked over at Harry and whispered,
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"I think I heard something," Hermione said, looking about. No one else was there.
They continued walking until something terribly frightening blocked their path. It was a ghost, a big fat one with a curly mustache and culottes.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked in an impolite tone.
Sir Nicholas swiveled his head, tapped his toes and sneered. After glaring over at Hermione, he huffed and coughed, whispering something that could not be heard. Slowly his feet melted into the floor as he shifted to another part of the corridor and was gone.
"That was rather odd, wouldn't you say, Harry?"
But it wasn't odd. For some reason, Harry knew that Nicholas would react that way. He wasn't psychic nor was it some kind of intuitiveness. Definitely something was different, something was wrong.
"Come on, let's go," he finally responded, clutching onto Hermione's robe and racing toward the dining hall. Every corridor seemed darker and longer, and it was taking several minutes seeming like hours.
After a good five minutes, they arrived only a little late. Two students were sent to Hufflepuff already but the long line of new wizards was still there. Harry and Hermione crept to their empty spots across from Ron and his brothers.
Within a few seconds they heard the Sorting Hat shout Gryffindor to a young boy with blonde locks streaming down his back. He wore white ruffles, a golden red buttoned vest and black pants that cut off below the knee and tucked into thick blackened boots. Ron waved to him, gesturing him to sit to the left of him where they were two vacant seats. However, at that moment, Harry completely forgetten Ron was supposed to be ill.
"Hello," he said in a French accent. "I am Carillon Schafly, but my friends," he paused but quickly continued, "Um, my friends call me the Fly."
"Why do they call you that?" Hermione asked, gazing into his blue pools.
He snickered and replied, "Because I am the fastest flyer you will ever see."
Ron then yelled, "You haven't seen Harry fly then! I bet you he could be you any day with his—"
Hermione shot a look at him, and he immediately shut his mouth. He'd seen that look too many times before, and it always meant that he was going to say something stupid that he would get screamed at later for.
"Slytherin!" The first new wizard to enter that house was announced. A young lady with long brown hair, almost floor length, and peculiar yellowish brown eyes walked over toward her new house. Harry stared for a second at her as she stared back and then focused her attention back onto Carillon.
"Where exactly are you from?" Harry asked, pushing his spectacles back up.
"Why, I am from the country of love, um, Harry I think it is."
Laughing a bit, he replied, "Sorry. I don't know what that is."
"France, my good wizard. And who is this lovely lady?"
Ron looked around and jokingly said, "What lady? All I see is Hermione."
After kicking him underneath the table, she looked back up at him and sighed. "Oh, shut up Ron, will you? And stop staring at that Slytherin girl."
"I'm not. I don't even know her name."
The Fly interrupted. "That, my dear friends, is Elise Wings. She is a Scottish lady, I believe, and has fantastic abilities in the dark arts. If she had a chance, she could out power almost anyone here."
"I take it you've met her before?" Ron asked.
"Well, yes, in another lifetime. It was long ago, at a different school…" He glanced over at her who was now socializing with Draco and being shown the Silverstar. "But enough of that. Let's eat!"