The crowd slowly dispersed, and Harry's classmates got back to practicing the spell. Every now and then, he caught this student or that sneaking a glance at him. Somehow, he had a feeling that nobody else would bother him anytime soon.

Snape yawned as he approached the Gargoyle. His pace was slower than his usual brisk walk. It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to getting some sleep after speaking with the Headmaster. Dumbledore had scheduled their meeting for 11 pm - the old man was a bit of a night owl. Snape paused in front of the Gargoyle. He couldn't remember the latest password. This didn't surprise him in the least, considering he had been working late each day for the past week.

"Lemon drops?"

The statue stood still.

"Chocolate frogs?"

It still did not move. He rattled off every candy and confectionery he could think of until it finally revealed the staircase on his ninth try. He didn't understand why Dumbledore habitually picked passwords that could be guessed by an eight-year old. Then again, maybe that was the point. Students wouldn't try to access the headmaster's office unless there was a huge problem or they were up to no good. In either case, the old man would want to know about it, and the multiple detection charms in his office alerted him to any new arrivals instantly. A scheme worthy of a Slytherin. Dumbledore was already waiting for Snape when he walked through the final set of doors.

"Good evening Severus."

Snape nodded curtly. "Headmaster."

"Take a seat, please. You said you wanted to speak to me about arranging a trip for Harry?"

Snape sat down in the chair across from Dumbledore's desk. "Yes. The boy needs a new broom."

"Of course. I'm afraid we all saw that unfortunate incident during last weekend's quidditch match. Quite a sordid affair all around, no? Three students incapacitated, and two more injured. I do understand quidditch can be a bloody sport – but a few more matches like this one and we may not have any willing players."

"Most unfortunate sir," Snape replied deadpan.

"Strangely, your beaters seemed to be targeting the Weasley boys at first. I wonder who came up with this new strategy."

Snape sat silent, meeting Dubmledore's pointed look head-on.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter. After all, they acted within the rules of the sport. I wouldn't accuse of you with trying to get even with a pair of pranksters. Even if that was the case – I can hardly give you a detention." Dumbledore chuckled at his own joke.

"I disagree headmasters. It feels like I am already in detention considering how much time I spend each evening working on the tracking potion for you."

"Ah yes. Is it coming along?"

"It will be ready next weekend."

"So soon? That exceeds even our most optimistic estimates."

"Yes. I found a way to simplify the protocol used to create the potion. It remains incredibly labor intensive, but the overall time-frame has been reduced."

"Wonderful work. Now… what were we speaking of earlier?"

"Harry's broom."

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "I see you call him Harry now rather than Potter. That's good. Forgiveness sets us free."

Snape shrugged. "He is not quite what I expected him to be. Regardless, he has a match next weekend, so it would be ideal if he could travel to Diagon Alley this weekend to purchase a broom."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "No doubt. Would you be accompanying him on this trip?"

"No. I must work on your potion this weekend. Besides, I already spend more than enough time with the boy."

"Ah yes, I've heard about that. You helped him learn the shield charm. That's very impressive – I've never heard it cast by one so young. I only hope you did not teach the boy just to impress Ms. Jones?"

Snape scoffed lightly. "Of course not. If I only taught him to impress her, I wouldn't be bothering with the occulumency lessons."

"Yes. Shield charm… occulumency… our young friend has an interesting set of skills. Some may say dangerous even. It is essential that we do not allow him to stray from the righteous path. Who are his friends?"

"I only see him at mealtimes and in the classroom. He eats with the first year Slytherins – as is expected. It seems like he mainly speaks with Malfoy and Nott. He typically pairs up with people outside his house for potions. Interestingly, with Gryffindor it's the Longbottom boy."

"Neville? That is welcome news. Can't say as much for Malfoy and Nott, but perhaps they will grow to be different men than their fathers."

"Perhaps," Snape responded, his face expressionless.

"How does he get along with the other Gryffindors?"

"I can't say. Students know better than to dilly-dally in my class, so he does not have the opportunity to talk to anyone besides his potions partner. Besides, I'm sure you heard about the circumstances of him casting the protego charm."

"Ah, yes. An altercation with our youngest Weasley. It is sad the two boys at odds when only a decade ago their parents fought side by side. Perhaps we should arrange for Molly to take him to Diagon Alley?"

Snape shrugged. "She would no doubt be a capable chaperone… so long as she does not blame Harry for her sons' recent quidditch injuries. I cannot help but wonder if Mrs. Longbottom would be a better choice."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I will speak to Molly and make sure there is no confusion regarding Harry's innocence in that incident. As far as his altercation with Ron – it looks like a schoolboy spat. I'm sure she is familiar with such things after raising six of them."

"As you wish."

"That's all then, Severus. I will inform Harry of the final arrangements personally, so you need not trouble yourself with any of the details this weekend. Happy brewing!"

Snape acknowledged the light-hearted jab with a tight-lipped smile, and walked back to his office. He was not looking forward to the tedium of working on the tracking potion, but perhaps he could find more ways to streamline the process. By the time he reached the dungeons, he was deep in thought about potential modifications.

About ten minutes into history of magic, Harry abandoned all hope of listening to the lecture. Binns was talking about some goblin rebellion. It felt like there were half a dozen of them, and Harry couldn't tell them apart if his life depended on it. Instead, he doodled on his parchment and tried to figure out what Dumbledore wanted to talk about.

He had received a note from the headmaster during breakfast. Dumbledore wanted to meet after classes ended for the day. Quizzically, the note did not say why. The only reason Harry could think of was the dueling club meeting where he had used the shield charm. Dumbledore was probably going to gush over him, as Flitwick had done, or discipline him for unsanctioned dueling.

After suffering through 60 minutes of Binns' droning, Harry was set free by the bell. As he walked out the door, Draco fell in step with him. All of the Slytherin first years had seen Harry receive the note at breakfast, and more than a few had been interested in what it was all about. Draco was no exception.

"Off to see the headmaster?"

"Yeah - no point in keeping him waiting."

Draco stopped walking and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Be careful. Father says the old man walks a thin line between madness and competence. Madness in that most of what he says is complete lunacy, and competency in that he somehow manages to make things work out in his favor time and time again."

"I appreciate the advice mate, but I'll be fine. Really. It's probably nothing."

"If you say so. Just remember, if he does anything weird, you can count on my father and I to help you. I'll see you later." Draco gave Harry's shoulder a parting squeeze before walking away to join the other Slytherins departing the classroom.

Harry turned around and continued walking towards the headmaster's office. He still couldn't wrap his head around Draco – and really all Slytherins' – distrust of the headmaster. Harry had only spoken to the man once, but he had been cordial. Not only that, but Dumbledore had given him one of the greatest gifts he had ever received – the parting memories recorded by his parents. Still, he would be careful around the headmaster for now – whatever that meant.

When he reached the Gargoyle, he gave the password that the note had provided, and walked up the staircase to the office without problem. He knocked on the door, and seconds later it swung open. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. The wizard gestured towards the chair opposite him, and Harry slowly took a seat. For a couple of seconds, the headmaster looked at him without speaking. Abruptly, he smiled.

"Relax, you are not in any trouble."

Harry felt his shoulders fall a few centimeters as he involuntarily let out a sigh.

"I only wish to talk about your first six weeks at Hogwarts. Have you been enjoying your time here so far?"

Harry nodded quickly. Now that he knew why he was here, it felt like much of the tension had disappeared. "These have been without a doubt the best six weeks of my life."

The shadow of a frown flitted across Dumbledore's face, quickly replaced by his customary smile. "I am happy to hear you like life at Hogwarts. Your professors seem quite happy as well. I have been told that you are doing quite well in your classes."

"They have all been very helpful both in and out of class – I don't think I could have learned so much in so little time without professors Snape and Jones. My friends have also been great. Hermione – this girl from Gryffindor - is like a walking encyclopedia."

"Well said. Life is certainly easier when we have friends and well-wishers around us. I am happy to hear that is the case for you. How are your housemates?"

"They've been nice too. I eat with them every day. I've had a lot going on recently, so I haven't been able to hang out with them much outside of mealtimes."

"That is reassuring. There haven't been very many Potters in Slytherin, so I was concerned they might pick on you." Dumbledore paused for a moment before continuing. "If you ever have any problems – or feel like you are being targeted – don't hesitate to come to me."

Harry nodded, frowning slightly. It seemed like Dumbledore was just as wary of Draco and most of his Slytherin friends as they were of Dumbledore. Meanwhile, the headmaster helped himself to a lemon drop and leaned back in his armchair.

"Now, professor Snape told me that you wish to go shopping for a new broomstick this weekend."

"That's right, sir. The school broom that I was using burnt up, and I've been told that purchasing a higher end model better suited for a seeker would stop that from happening again."

"Ah yes, I was watching that match when your broom gave out. Indeed, a faster modern broom should reduce the chances of it happening again. Unfortunately, professor Snape is quite busy this weekend, so I have arranged another chaperone for you. Her name is Mrs. Weasley – I believe you have already met some of her children."

Harry winced. He had indeed met three of her children, although perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't. "Yes professor. Umm… I'm don't think we are on the best of terms."

Dumbledore swept his hand aside. "Don't worry about that. Many generations of Weasleys have passed through Hogwarts in recent memory. They can be… temperamental. However, they are also highly loyal, and have done more for our cause than most. Mrs. Weasley is a highly compassionate person, and I have already explained the situation to her. Rest assured, she will treat you well."

"But Ron…"

Dumledore raised his hand, cutting Harry off. "The young Mr. Weasley will not be going along with you, so you don't have to worry about bickering during the trip. It will only be yourself and Mrs. Weasley."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, settling into an occulumency exercise to slow himself down. He was frustrated by the headmaster's arrangement, but there didn't seem like there was anything he could do to change it, and he really needed that broom. On top of that, it wouldn't do to antagonize Dumbledore if anything Draco had said was true. Harry opened his eyes again, and smiled at the headmaster.

"Ok, sir. Thank you for arranging this trip."

The old man shuddered slightly, but quickly regained his composure. "Don't mention it, my boy. You can report to your head-of-house's office this Saturday afternoon at 1pm, and he will send you off to via the floo. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head, still smiling.

"Ok then, off you go."

"Have a good night, sir." Harry got up from his chair, and walked out the door. As soon as he left the staircase, groaned to himself. Despite the excitement of getting a new broomstick, interacting with Mrs. Weasley was bound to be terribly awkward. What was he supposed to say? 'Hi, I'm Harry. Sorry about your twins – I promise, that wasn't me. Oh, and I didn't jinx your other son – I only reflected his own jinx back at him.' Yep, it was sure to be a harmonious trip.

As he sat in his office, Dumbledore tried to forget Harry's parting smile. The smile that reminded him of a boy that attended Hogwarts many decades ago. A boy that was gifted in many of the same ways. Of course, the other one had been broken – destined to become something terrible. That is what Dumbledore liked to tell himself. It was easier to do so – the alternative would be to admit that his inaction had played a role in creating a monster. Nonetheless, he resolved to act now so that Harry would never tread a similar path. At the moment, that meant introducing him to the right sort of people.

"I'm telling you, the Cleansweep 7 is the way to go. 0 to 80 kilometers per hour in ten seconds flat. You can't beat that."

"Really Theo? A Cleansweep? Maybe he should borrow a mop from Filtch instead." Draco turned towards Harry. "Don't listen to him– he doesn't know what he's talking about. You should go for the Nimbus 2000."

Harry nodded quickly as he shoveled another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. It was almost 12:30pm, and he didn't want to be late.

"You two are so boring," interjected Ornelle from a couple of seats over. "They are basically the same thing. I'm tired of hearing you blabber on about it."

Harry couldn't help agreeing. Naturally, he kept that to himself.

"What!?" Draco and Theo yelled simultaneously. They looked at each other with narrowed eyes before turning back towards Runcorn.

"You bite your tongue! The Nimbus is ten times the broom."

Ornelle clutched her head with her hands. "Shut up Draco. You're only saying that because your father owns part of the company."

"Hey, how do you know that."

The red-haired girl stared back blankly. "You told everybody, remember?"

"Father owns half of Nimbus! They send me the newest model each year!" Daphne chimed in a mocking effeminate voice.

"Hey! I don't sound like that."

Harry chuckled softly, and then coughed violently as some of his mashed potatoes went down his airway. A violent slap on his back ejected the blob out of his mouth and onto the floor.

"Thanks, Vincent."

The towering boy grinned back. Meanwhile, Pansy cleared her throat loudly.

"I'm with Draco on this one. The Nimbus is definitely the superior broom."

The boy in question reddened slightly. Millicent made a gagging noise, and Pansy shot her a glare.

"What, you don't agree?"

"Come on, you're only saying that to score points with Draco. Personally, I think Harry should get a Comet 250. It's made by the same company as the school brooms, so it would take him less time to adapt."

Harry frowned slightly. Millicent had a good point. She usually kept quiet, so it felt strange to hear her speak – particularly since what she just said made more sense than anything Draco or Theo had put forth.

Daphne quickly interjected. "Haven't you been listening – it's between the Nimbus and the Cleansweep."

Millicent shrugged and went back to eating. Harry remembered that he was supposed to be somewhere soon, and resumed shoveling down his lunch. Draco and Theo kept on arguing, with intermittent input from Daphnee and Tracy, who seemed to be having fun at least. Ornelle, on the other hand, was practically tearing out her hair. After a few more bites, Harry downed his pumpkin juice in one go and got up from the table.

"Leaving already? Don't let Snape push you around – make sure you get to pick out the broom."

"You bet, Theo." With a wave to the table, Harry made his way out of the Great Hall. He hadn't mentioned his conversation with Dumbledore, and all his Slytherin acquaintances had assumed that Snape would be the one escorting him to Diagon Alley. He didn't see the point in telling them otherwise – they would probably accuse him of fraternizing with the enemy, or it might further stoke their animosity towards Dumbledore.

After five minutes of navigating staircases and hallways, Harry made it to Snape's office with some time to spare. He knocked on the door, but there was no response. After thirty seconds of wondering if he had missed something, a silvery doe – Snape's patronus – galloped through the wall. Snape's disembodied voice projected from the figure.

"I am in my private laboratory. The door to my office is unlocked. You may enter and use the floo to reach your destination, 'The Burrow.' DON'T touch anything else, and close the door behind you. In case you were wondering, yes, the patronus can be used to send messages."

Harry could picture the smirk on Snape's face as he said the last sentence. As soon as the message was delivered, the doe faded away. Harry opened the door as he had been directed, and closed it behind himself. The Floo lay just ahead, and a small fire was already lit within it. He grabbed a fistful of powder from a jar on the mantelpiece, and cast it into the flames.

"The Burrow."

He stepped through the green fire, and emerged into a cozy little room occupied by a couch, a couple of armchairs, and a small table. The walls were lined with pictures, and a large bookshelf was filled to the brim with tomes. An unusual clock was fixed to the wall opposite the fireplace. It had many hands, each one ending in a small portrait of a person. These hands pointed at various messages, seemingly describing where the Weasleys were at the time. He noticed that the only adult woman in the group – in all likelihood Mrs. Weasley – was 'at home.'

"Hello dear, you must be Harry."

Harry jumped slightly, and turned around to look for the owner of the voice. A plump woman, with a smiling face matching the one on the clock, was standing in one of the doorways to the room. She sported a slightly worn robe with an apron tied over it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Harry smiled, shaking his head slightly. "It's OK, I'm just slightly dazed from the floo. I am indeed Harry, and you must be Mrs. Weasley?"

"That's me. Welcome to the Burrow. I'm not sure if you have had anything to eat yet – I just made some fresh biscuits, so let me know if you feel peckish. I'm still waiting for Ginny to come down from her room."

"Ginny?"

"Yes, she's my youngest. I don't want to leave her alone, so I thought I'd take her along with us. Would that be OK with you."

Harry smiled widely. "Of course."

"Wonderful. I'll go upstairs and see what's taking her so long. Help yourself to some biscuits – the kitchen is just through there." Mrs. Weasley walked back through the doorway, and Harry was by himself once again. He took a seat on one of the couches, and waited. After a couple of minutes, he heard approaching voices.

"…I'd expect this sort of thing from Fred and George – not from you, mum."

"He's right through that door, look for yourself if you don't believe me."

A slight red-haired girl roughly Harry's own age stepped through the door. At first, she was frowning, but her mouth dropped open when her gaze fell on his scar. She tried to say something, but quickly gave up on that and dashed out the door. Harry heard her footsteps patter away as she went up the stairs. Mrs. Weasley popped her head into the doorway.

"I'm sorry Harry, she is a bit shy. Let me go talk to her."

Mrs. Weasely disappeared once again, and Harry groaned quietly. This was taking forever. He had an irrational fear that all the brooms would be sold out by the time they got there – or the good ones at least. Lunch had been less than an hour ago, but Harry decided that he might be less anxious if he was chewing something. He got off the couch and walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a biscuit off the tray sitting on the stove. They were quite good, very flaky. The kitchen seemed well stocked – more so than the one at Privet Drive. It looked like Mrs. Weasley spent a lot of time here.

A few minutes later, Harry heard approaching footsteps and returned to the living room. Mrs. Weasley had Ginny in tow, although the latter was trying to hide behind her mother. Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry, mouthing 'give her time.'

"I suppose we are all ready then. Would you like to go first, Harry? The floo powder is in the flowerpot on top of the mantelpiece. Our destination is Quality Quiditch Supplies."

Harry nodded, and stepped up to the floo. A fistful of powder later, he disappeared in a whirl of flames. As he emerged on the others side, he was struck by the rows and rows of broomsticks filling the store. There looked to be at least a hundred spread out across racks along the walls. Glass display cases were scattered here and there, with what he assumed to be a particularly expensive broom in each one. He walked towards a nearby case and read the description.

'Custom Comet 240, modeled after 1990 world cup Irish National Team brooms, signed by team captain.'

The broomstick itself was glossy, and not a tail twig looked out of place. Harry heard somebody clear his throat, and turned around to see an elderly blond man in a dress robe stylized to look like a quidditch uniform.

"Hello there, young man. I see the Comet caught your eye."

Harry nodded slowly. "Do you sell the Comet 250 series?"

The man smiled, shaking his head softly. "I do, but you look rather young – Hogwarts first year?"

"Yes."

"As I'm sure you know, you can't have your own broomstick in the castle. You may look around as you please, but I can't sell you anything capable of flight."

"I have special permission from the headmaster. I play seeker for one of the house teams, and the school broom I was using caught flames."

The man frowned. "Come now, you could have just left the joke at playing seeker as a first year. The broom catching fire makes it too unbelievable."

"It's true."

"Ok then, I suppose you won't mind me flooing your head of house to confirm?"

"Suit yourself. My head of house is professor Snape."

The shop owner nodded curtly, before walking towards a small fireplace behind the counter. Meanwhile, Harry spotted Ginny stepping out of the fireplace. The lines on her face vanished as she looked around the room. Harry took a few steps towards her.

"Are you a quidditch fan?"

"Yeah," she answered, still looking at a nearby rack of broomsticks. She seemed to forget who she was talking to - her shyness fading away at the prospect of quidditch talk. "I fly around whenever I can get my hands on a broom. Sometimes I join my older brothers for a game near…" She trailed off as she turned her head and realized she was speaking to Harry.

Harry quickly followed up. "Me too. I play for a house team at Hogwarts."

"Really! What position do you play?"

"Seeker."

"That's my favorite position!" Ginny was nearly shouting at this point, and a few people were starting to look their way. Harry tried to maneuver behind one of the broom racks. Ginny didn't pay them any attention.

"Are you in Gryffindor? My brothers, Fred and George, are beaters. What am I saying? I'm sure you know them already…."

"I play for Slytherin."

"Oh…" Ginny seemed at a loss for words, but recovered after a few seconds, her face animated once more. "That's OK. You're probably better off. You won't have to put up with any of their pranks. They like to play these stupid jokes on me every chance they get…" Ginny kept blabbing on about her brothers, and Harry wished he could have the shy Ginny back. Fortunately, Mrs. Weasley soon stepped out of the fireplace.

"I really should invest in a faster connection…" she muttered. Her eyes scanned the room before settling on Harry and Ginny. "There you are! I'm glad to see you two are getting along!" She quickly walked over to them. "Have you seen anything you like, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't really had a chance to browse yet."

"Well, let's have a look then."

For the few minutes, the trio walked around the perimeter of the showroom. Harry spotted several Nimbus 2000s on a display rack near the front of the store. After taking a look at the Cleansweep 7, he was leaning towards Draco's recommendation. Just as he was beginning to wonder what had happened to the shopkeeper, the man reappeared.

"My apologies Mr. Potter. Your head of house is a difficult man to get ahold off."

"It's ok, sir. He has been rather busy lately. Thank you for looking into it."

The man smiled. "No thanks is necessary – I was just doing my job. I didn't mean to put your word into question, but every first year that comes through here has a new scheme for how to trick me into selling him a broom." The shopkeeper looked at Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. "Are you Mr. Potter's guardian?"

"No, I'm just accompanying him on this trip today."

"Wonderful. Do you mind if I use a privacy bubble briefly? I have to ask him about a quidditch incident that took place recently, and it would be best if can speak freely."

The woman frowned slightly, but nodded her head. "If you must."

The man pulled out his wand, and quietly intoned a spell that Harry didn't recognize. A shimmering bubble appeared around the two of them, and all outside conversation faded away to an incomprehensible murmur. Harry also noticed that the surroundings outside the bubble were blurry, making it difficult to make out the details of Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Now then, this should afford us some privacy. Don't be alarmed, I merely wish to ask you about how exactly your previous broom caught fire. It's a very rare occurrence, you see, and a better understanding of it may be useful when picking your new broom."

Harry delved into a detailed explanation of the quidditch match – similar to the one he had given to professor Snape. The shopkeeper's eyes widened at a few moments, but he remained silent until Harry had finished speaking.

"A fascinating tale. I've only ever heard of two other people blowing out their brooms – neither one was as young as you. This may be unprecedented. Tell me, how much do you know about how brooms are made?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing at all, sir. I assume they are like wands? A wizard wills the broom to fly, and it uses his magic to do so?"

The shopkeeper smiled, his eyes crinkling. "A good guess, but there are some caveats. Modern brooms have many enhancements built in to draw magic from the rider and strip away intent. Unlike with a wand, the wizard is not channeling his magic through the broom. Rather, the broom is channeling the wizard's own magic back through him."

Harry frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Think about it this way. You can't really work with a broom the same way you would with a wand. You can't cast sparks with your broom, or use it to levitate objects. The only thing it will do is help you fly, because that is what it was enchanted to do. On top of that, there are additional enchantments limiting the velocity, turning speed, and other factors – all to prevent the flier from killing himself with ill-advised maneuvers. Most wizards do not have very good control of their intent – or their magic – and a broom unbound by such enhancements could prove disastrous. Instead, modern brooms pull a finite amount of magic from the flier, and channel that magic into a levitation enhancement in a very carefully calibrated way."

The man leaned forward slightly. "Let me tell you a little secret. The Nimbus, the Cleansweep, the Comet… they are all extremely similar when it comes down to the hardware. They just have slightly different enhancements and unique cosmetic designs."

Harry nodded. "So why did my broom combust?"

"Well, the broom is designed to only pull a certain amount of magic from you. At a maximum, the amount of magic needed to move you at the broom's highest rated speed. You willed the broom to fly at a greater speed, and somehow broke through several enchantments designed to prevent this. Your magic overloaded the broom, and the rest is history."

"That... makes sense."

"Now, that leads me to a suggestion. By all accounts, you are an excellent flier. You've done well with the Comet 60 or whatever shabby broom you were forced to fly at Hogwarts. During my conversation with professor Snape, he mentioned you have unusual control over your magic for one as young as you. There may be another option – one better suited for you than the brooms we have out here."

"What's that?"

"The brooms used at the highest levels of quidditch – in the professional teams and above – are different than the ones sitting on those shelves. They are what I call 'unlocked'. Protective enhancements are kept to a minimum in order to allow for higher speeds and maneuverability. Professional players can use this to push their brooms to new limits. Naturally, current ministry regulations prevent the public from obtaining such brooms – and for good reason – unlocked brooms are difficult to control if you lack substantial skill."

"So… can I get one of these unlocked brooms."

The blond man laughed. "No, we don't even stock any of them. The broom manufacturers ship them directly to the players. However, I can give you something close. Before '52, the laws were much more lenient. A handful of small manufacturers built custom brooms for wealthy clientele. These were mainly used for racing, and a relatively small number were produced overall. I don't think any saw professional use in quidditch. After all, there was no point. Professional quidditch players already had access to unlocked brooms, and by going with a quidditch company's brooms, they also got sponsorship money. In a way, one of the main roles of high end quidditch brooms is to sell cheaper 'locked' brooms to the masses. Every year, people pony up money to buy a dumbed down version of whatever broom the previous year's world cup winners were flying."

Harry stared at the man blankly.

"Sorry about that. I tend to go on tangents when I get excited about brooms. Here's the deal. I have an old Silver Arrow in my possession. It was built way back in 1949 – before the current laws were put into place, and has been grandfathered in. It is still in very good shape. This line of brooms was used by officers in the war against Grindelwald… they are designed to take a beating. I'm getting on in age, and it's becoming a bit too much for me to handle. I want you to have it."

Harry paused for a moment. "Wow… that would be incredible. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's not every day Harry Potter walks into my shop. Tell you what… when you become a famous quidditch player one day, you can dedicate one of your trophies to me."

Harry giggled. "I'll be sure to do that."

"Fantastic. I'll have the broom dropped off with professor Snape. I wouldn't want to cause a scene at lunchtime now, would I?"

"That would be awesome. How much do I owe you?"

The shopkeeper put up his hand. "Nothing. Consider this a token of my appreciation for defeating he-who-must-not-be-named. Besides, I'm not even sure if I can legally sell you this broom. Giving it away is a bit of a gray area, but I am retiring in March, so I don't really give a hoot." The old man winked at Harry, and dispelled the bubble with a sweep of his wand.

"That's all then. It was nice meeting you Mr. Potter. Your broom should arrive sometime this evening. Have a good day." The man nodded curtly in Mrs. Weasely's direction, and walked away.

"Is that all then Harry?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. I think we can go now."

"Don't you need to pay for the broom?"

"No, it's already covered."

"Alright then, on we go."

Harry insisted on being the first one back through the floo. Unfortunately, Ginny simply waited until she was on the other side before asking him a dozen questions about his conversation with the shopkeeper – all of which he diverted towards innocuous quidditch talk. When it was time for him to leave the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley insisted on sending some biscuits along with him. He halfheartedly refused before ultimately giving in. They were rather tasty after all. On the whole, he was impressed with this half of the Weasleys. Maybe they weren't as bad as he had initially assumed. At least not all of them - he still didn't care for Ron.