Kindred Spirits

by Tailkinker

This is a work of fan fiction based on the Harry Potter series and the Sailor Moon franchise created respectively by J.K. Rowling and Naoko Takeuchi. The characters and settings belong to their respective owners and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and should not be considered as part of the official canon of either series.

The Firebolt

Hermione dropped into the sofa next to Harry with a huff of disgust. Harry glanced up from the Occlumency book.

"What's the problem?"

"You are aware, are you not, that Draco Malfoy informed his father of the attack?"

"The attack?" Harry frowned. "Oh. You mean Buckbeak. Well, considering that the only spell he seems to know is 'When my father hears of this...'" Harry snorted. "But Lucius Malfoy got his arse tossed off the Board of Governors. So there's not much he can do at the school."

"Well, he still lodged an official complaint with the Board. And they referred the matter to the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures," snarled Hermione. "His precious baby boy gets hurt, and he wants to kill the Hippogriff, even though it was Malfoy's stupidity that got him clawed."

"Hagrid didn't mention anything about that last time I was down there," said Harry.

"Yes, but that's because he only got the letter today", said Hermione. "Ron and I popped down while you were busy with Hotaru. You two have been so absorbed in your Occlumency lessons...It might be easier to just learn Japanese."

Harry sighed. "We've been over this, Hermione. Aside from learning the language faster, Occlumency's a handy thing to know anyway. Plus, Professor Snape told us that we're still going to need to practice. This isn't cheating; it's a learning assistant."

"It still feels like cheating," she huffed.

Harry chuckled. "We're not all geniuses like you, Hermione. Some of us need all the help we can get."

"I still can't believe you're going to just trust Snape like that. Let him rummage around in your memories."

"Trust might be too strong a word," said Harry. "After all, part of the reason to learn Occlumency is so that he can't just rummage around. Besides, he's not treating me as badly as he used to."

"No, but he's coming down even harder on Neville and Seamus."

"Yeah," admitted Harry. He closed the book and stood up. "Getting late, and it's Christmas Eve. I'd better head to bed."

Harry was awoken rather suddenly, as a result of his pillow being yanked out from under his head and slammed into his face.

"Get up, Harry! Presents!"

Harry sat up, annoyed, and rubbed his face. "What are you, six?"

"You've got quite a haul this year."

Harry reached for the nightstand to grab his glasses, but his hand met wood. "Where are my glasses?"

"Oh. I think I knocked them over."

"We need to cut down on your sugar intake," complained Harry. "I can't see them. Get them, will you?"

Ron knelt beside Harry's bed and picked up the glasses. "Here."

Harry put them on his face, then blinked at the stack of presents at the foot of his bed. "Whoa."

The largest package, with its sloppy wrapping, was almost certainly from Molly Weasley, so he started with that. Aside from the traditional knitted jumper, she'd included some mince pies and peanut brittle. Ron had given him a bar of chocolate, and Hermione a book—"Of course," snickered Ron—on Japanese culture. Hotaru had sent him a book as well, on magical healing. The card attached said, "In case I'm not there the next time you get hurt," which made him chuckle.

At the bottom of the stack was a long, slender present with a bulge at one end. Ron's eyes widened when he saw it.

"That's gotta be a broom."

"That's what I was thinking," said Harry. He turned the package over a few times. "There's no tag and no card."

"Reckon it's from McGonagall? Like your Nimbus?"

"One way to find out," said Harry. He tore open the package.

It wasn't a Nimbus. Harry had spent entirely too much time drooling over this broomstick not to recognize it instantly.

Ron's eyes widened further, making him look almost like Dobby, and his jaw dropped open. "Bloody hell! Is that a Firebolt?"

Harry, gobsmacked, could only nod.

"Oh, you gotta let me have a go!" Ron paused. "After you try it, of course."

"Think it's too cold out right now?" asked Harry eagerly.

Ron opened his mouth, obviously to say no, but then paused. "Reckon it is. Probably a bit dark yet. Maybe after breakfast?"

"Yeah," said Harry. He jumped to his feet and grabbed a robe. "I'll be back in a bit. We'll head down for breakfast." He grinned. "I hear that this broom can get up to two hundred miles an hour in a straightaway. Malfoy's going to be livid!"

Hermione looked up from her book as they ran down the stairs. "Happy Christmas, you two."

"And you," said Harry. "School's pretty empty this year."

"I heard that there's only four other students, besides ourselves, still in the school," said Hermione. She noted the Firebolt over Harry's shoulder. "You finally got a new broom?"

"That's not just any broom," boasted Ron. "It's a Firebolt!"

"Is that...good?"

Harry chuckled. "Yes, Hermione. It's a good broom. Top of the line, actually. I spent most of the summer staring at it." He paused, and looked at the handle. "Yeah, serial number thirty-seven. This is the very Firebolt I spent most of the summer staring at."

Hermione frowned. "Now, I know I don't know a lot about broomsticks. But a top of the line broomstick, with such an absurdly low serial number...that can't have been cheap. Did you buy it?"

"No," said Harry. "It was a Christmas present."

"Is it a very expensive broom?"

"Well, I think so. The sign said, 'Price available upon request'."

Hermione's frown deepened. "You don't put something like that unless the price is very high. Now, don't take this the wrong way, Harry, but who would have gotten that for you? I can't see the school paying for that."

"Maybe it was Professor Lupin," said Ron.

"No," said Harry. "If Professor Lupin could afford a Firebolt, he wouldn't be wearing such tattered robes."

Hermione bit her lip, then said, "I think we should take it to a professor."

"Are you mad?" asked Ron. "Why would we do that?"

"Think, Ron! Everybody knows Harry loves to fly. If someone wanted to make a trap for Harry, a broom would be the perfect bait. Especially an expensive broom like this one. So I think that, for Harry's sake, we should get someone to check it out."

"You're barking!" shouted Ron. "They'll want to strip it down, probably ruin every charm on it—"

"You're right," said Harry quietly.

Ron turned to stare at him in disbelief.

"Voldemort's still out there, and I managed to make an enemy of Lucius Malfoy as well," continued Harry. "I don't know what resources Voldemort has, but Malfoy's got more money than is healthy. For me, especially." He pulled the broom off his shoulder, and sighed. "We'll take it to Professor Flitwick. He's the Charms Professor."

As most students went home during the Christmas break, there was never a large feast on Christmas day at Hogwarts. The Christmas feast was normally held on the last Friday of term—more than a week ago, now, as Christmas fell on a Saturday this year. As a result, the staff usually hosted a rather large lunch for the students who remained over the break.

When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at the Great Hall, however, they saw that aside from the staff, only four students were already present—a bored-looking Slytherin fifth-year, two first-year students who looked terrified of being so close to the Professors, and Hotaru.

"Harry!" Hotaru jumped up from her chair and ran over to him. To his surprise, she hugged him. It caught him off guard, but he quickly relaxed into it. Unlike Molly Weasley's smothering hugs, or Hermione's bone-crushing hugs, Hotaru's hug was light, one hand barely touching his shoulder, one on his waist.

"Happy Christmas!" she said.

"Hotaru!" Harry blinked. "I'm...actually surprised to see you. Why aren't you celebrating at home with your father?"

"Christmas isn't a big deal for him." She stepped back, smiling. "New Year's is the big holiday for him, and he'll be off to Japan for that. I'd end up missing classes here, so I just stay in the castle." She sighed. "It's...kind of a mixed bag. It'd be nice to see Papa over the holidays, but New Years is a big religious thing for him, and it's not for me."

"I see." He'd assumed that last year, she'd only not gone home because she'd been petrified by the Basilisk.

"Thank you for this, by the way." She tapped her bookbag. "Do you know how much it'll hold?"

"No idea," admitted Harry. "All I know is, it'll hold a lot, it'll keep anybody else out of it, and nothing in it will get wet from rain or anything."

They sat at the table. Harry ended up between Hotaru and Hermione. Professor Dumbledore glanced towards the doors, and said, "Professor Flitwick appears to be delayed—"

"My fault, Sir," said Harry. "I—er—got a suspicious present. He said he'd secure it, then join us for lunch."

Hotaru glanced over at him. "What was it?"

"A broomstick," said Harry. "A really expensive one. No card or anything. Hermione pointed out that if anybody wanted to do me in, a broomstick would be good bait—especially a Firebolt."

Professor McGonagall almost spat her tea across the table. She shakily set down her teacup, and said, "Somebody sent you a Firebolt?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Professor Flitwick said he'll check it over, and make sure everything's on the up-and-up." He grinned. "He also said that he'd try really hard to not break it, but that it would be very difficult, since we play Ravenclaw next."

That raised chuckles around the table.

Hotaru's eyes darted between Harry and Professor McGonagall. As the chuckles subsided, she decided to break the tension that had briefly hung in the air. With a warm smile, she reached into her bag and pulled out her sketchbook and a set of colored pencils.

"Well, while we wait for Professor Flitwick, would you all mind if I doodle a bit?" Hotaru asked, her tone polite and apologetic.

She glanced around the table, then visibly relaxed as most of the Professors nodded or smiled. She flipped open her sketchbook to a blank page and gently began sketching with her colored pencils. Her hand moved swiftly yet delicately across the paper, tracing fine lines with the pencils, pausing only to switch colours.

"Can I look?" asked Harry.

Hotaru looked up at him, a surprised expression on her face. "I...umm, sure." She tilted the sketchbook more towards Harry.

She'd filled the page she was working on with pictures of girls—the same girl, he thought. In one sketch, she wore a leotard and carried a spear of some sort; in another, she wore a fancy dress; in the third, she wore a skirt and sailor-like top. The girl's hair was styled similar to Hotaru's, though with much more volume, and in two of the sketches, an odd glyph was drawn on her forehead.

"I like to draw," said Hotaru quietly. "It helps me find peace when my mind is troubled."

"What's troubled you about these girls?" asked Harry softly.

"I've had..." She glanced around. "I don't feel...Not here, okay?"

"No problem," said Harry. "Whenever you want to talk, though, I'm here for you."

She smiled. "Thank you, Harry."

"And here's our missing staff member," said Professor Lupin loudly. "Happy Christmas, Filius."

"Thank you, Remus" said Professor Flitwick.

"And Professor Trelawney," observed Headmaster Dumbledore. "How kind of you to join us."

Harry glanced over his shoulder. He'd heard both Ron and Hermione complain about this professor before. She was slender, but so wrapped with shawls and ropes of beads that it was difficult to be certain. Her glasses were even thicker than Harry's, and gave her a look of perpetual surprise. As she approached, Harry also detected a whiff of sherry.

"Hello, all," said Trelawney. "My Inner Eye informed me that I should attend lunch today. And who am—"

She broke off, staring down at Hotaru's sketchbook.

"My dear child," she said, her voice wavering. "Where did you see that girl?"

"Hm?" Hotaru looked down at her sketchbook, then back up at Professor Trelawney. "Oh. I have..." She broke off, looking down again.

"Nightmares," finished Trelawney.

Hotaru nodded, her eyes squeezed tight. Harry was certain that she was holding back tears.

"My poor girl," said Trelawney. "To be dreaming of the handmaiden of death—"

Hotaru jumped to her feet, grabbed her bookbag and bolted from the Great Hall. Harry sighed, and stood up.

"If you'll excuse me, Professors?"

Professor Lupin nodded, and Dumbledore made a shooing motion with his hand. Harry turned, and fixed Professor Trelawney with a glare. The woman took a step back, a shocked look on her face, and Harry turned and stalked from the Hall.