Chapter 45: Knobheads and Broomsticks
Harry POV
Harry was excited as he followed Captain Wood and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team out onto the field. The September air was brisk, but it was refreshing after so many days inside the castle.
Of course, he was mainly excited about flying. Sure, he liked Quidditch, but flying around on a broom was his true passion!
Yet when they approached the training grounds, his eyes narrowed as he spotted a slew of green robes already standing around on the pitch.
"What are they doing here?" Alicia Spinnet wondered aloud, which was heard by the other team.
"Professor Snape gave us permission," Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, declared, leering at Oliver Wood. "We have to get practice with our new brooms and Seeker, after all."
"New Seeker?" Harry asked, glancing at Draco. The Malfoy scion was the only person on the other team Harry didn't recognize from playing against Slytherin last year.
"That's right," Draco said, puffing out his chest. "My father bought the team brand-new racing brooms. Nimbus 2001s. The latest model. Far superior to your dinky old Nimbus 2000, Potter."
The scornful glances the other Slytherins shot at the brooms used by the rest of the House of the Lion were also quite obvious. And rude. Harry didn't like it. It reminded him too much of the Dursleys and how they looked down on their neighbors for purely superficial reasons.
"So, what you're saying is your father bribed the team to include you because you didn't have enough talent to make it on your own merits," Harry said dryly, which made Ron and the twins snort in vicious amusement.
"How dare you!" Draco shouted, turning red.
"What? That's exactly what happened, according to you," Harry replied, folding his arms across his chest. "Seems to be rather lacking in sportsmanship in my eyes."
"It doesn't matter how Malfoy got onto the team," Flint said, stepping in before Mount Draco could explode any further. "He's our new Seeker, and we need to run him through the drills."
"Well, you can do that some other time! I reserved the field for our team to use the day we got back to Hogwarts!" Wood retorted.
"Of course you did," Katie Bell sighed under her breath while rolling her eyes at her captain's obsession.
"Unfortunately for you, Professor Snape gave us written permission to use the field all day today," Flint stated. "So kindly vacate the premises."
"Ooo, big words," George (?) mocked. "Don't you think, George?"
"Indeed, Fred," Fred (?) replied. "I think we need should just start practicing and ignore the snakeys."
"You can't do that!" Draco exclaimed angrily. "Professor Snape said we could have the field today, so we will use it, and not you! Leave!"
"Actually, Professor Snape doesn't have any authority to reserve the pitch solely for your house," Hermione piped up, adding her own two pence to the conversation. "Madam Hooch is in charge of all Quidditch related matters at Hogwarts, and that includes scheduling who has the field and when. Unless you talked with Madam Hooch about this beforehand, then you'd be the ones to have to leave."
The Gryffindor team all nodded judiciously at Hermione's bit of trivia, no doubt learned from Hogwarts, A History, with Wood smirking victoriously at Flint. The Slytherins all scowled at her, annoyed at somebody else butting in and shooting down their arguments with logic. However, Draco Malfoy's face turned red with disdain.
"Shut up! Nobody asked for your opinion, you stupid little Mudblood!" Draco spat at Hermione. She and Harry blinked at the insult, unaware of the context behind it, though able to recognize an insult when uttered, but Ron, Neville, and the Gryffindor team all gasped in shock. Even a couple of the Slytherins seemed taken aback.
Ron in particular turned as red as his hair in anger and drew his wand, pointing it at Draco. Neville did as well, to everyone's surprise, a scowl of his own on his face that matched his red-headed friend's.
Of course, the Slytherins weren't going to let that go without comment, and Draco and two others, along with Crabbe and Goyle, who'd been standing in the background behind the Slytherin team like Ron, Hermione, and Neville had been for Gryffindor's.
In response, Harry and Hermione whipped out their wands, and then the rest of the Gryffindor team did so as well when the remaining Slytherins decided to back up their own house mates.
It had turned into a real Mexican stand-off, nobody willing to be the first to fire a spell, which turned out to be a good thing as somebody spotted what was going on and immediately ran out to intervene.
"Stop!" Madam Hooch shouted, striding out onto the field, her own wand drawn. "Enough! Put away your wands before I start docking points!"
Her sudden arrival broke the tension and the two teams reluctantly stepped back, though the urge to commit violence still lingered.
"What exactly is going on here?" the Quidditch referee demanded, glaring at the students with disappointment. The students hastily put their wands away out of guilt and shame as her gaze swept over them.
"The Slytherins claimed that they had permission to use the pitch from Professor Snape, and were trying to get us to leave," Oliver Wood hastily explained before Flint could try and spin things in his team's favor.
"Draco also called Hermione a Mudblood," Harry added, throwing the silver-blond ponce under the bus. Or broom. Carriage? However the saying went for the magical world.
Madam Hooch hissed through her teeth and leveled a disappointed glare at the Syltherins. "Is this true?"
"No! It's a lie!" Draco protested.
Raising an eyebrow at him, Madam Hooch swiped her wand through the air in a complex pattern, and muttered a spell.
"Verbum Quaerere!" she intoned, before speaking the word "Mudblood" in distaste.
A white glow began to shine from Harry and Draco's mouths a moment later and the latter gasped.
'A spell that detects if a certain word or phrase has been spoken recently? Fascinating!' Harry thought to himself as he stuck his tongue out and stared cross-eyed down at it as it glowed.
"It seems that you've lied to my face, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Hooch said angrily, dismissing the spell as she did so. "Ten points from Slytherin."
She then glared at Marcus Flint. "Mr. Wood claimed Professor Snape gave you permission to use the Quidditch Pitch? Permission he does not have the right to give?" she demanded.
The Slytherin's captain woodenly bobbed his head, reluctantly handing over a slip of parchment with the Potion Professor's signature on it.
"Five points from Slytherin for trying to use the Quidditch pitch without prior permission," Madam Hooch declared sternly as she took the parchment from Flint. "And Twenty-five points from Slytherin for truly abhorrent language!"
The Slytherins all flinched back at the back-to-back loss of House Points, and a few members of the Snake House shot annoyed looks towards Draco. Not even new brooms could excuse the loss of that many points in one sitting, it seemed.
'Or perhaps it was the loss of face that really angered them,' Harry mused. From his – admittedly brief – interactions with the House of the Cunning, the Slytherins operated on a sort of reputation system that determined one's social standing in the dungeons. Loss of points wasn't as bad as the loss of status and the censure it brought to the rest of them.
Given how poorly most other students viewed the Slytherins as a whole, anything that made life harder for them was frowned upon. That didn't stop the snide remarks and bullying, but if caught being done in the open and penalized by a teacher, it would lead to a form of shunning by the rest of the House.
'I wonder how this will affect Draco's influence?' Harry couldn't help but wonder. The Malfoys were one of the most powerful noble houses in Magical Britain and Draco had been coasting on his family's success until now. But with the incident last year with the duel, and now this? Harry genuinely wondered how many Slytherins would continue to openly support him.
In the end, the Slytherin team slunk away, shoulders hunched and heads bowed. Perhaps they'd go train elsewhere. Or maybe they'd hunker down in the dungeons and wait for the scandal to blow over.
Whatever the case, Harry found he couldn't bring himself to care as he mounted his broom and took the air, relishing in the freedom flying brought him.
He'd worry about Draco and any foolish attempts at revenge later. For now, it was time to put up with Woods' crazy training ideas.
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"What a knobhead!" Ron exclaimed in disgust at dinner that night as he glared across the hall at the Slytherin table, still utterly disgusted with Draco's behavior.
Hermione was noticeably absent from the table, but so were the other Second Year Gryffindor girls. Harry had a feeling they'd heard about it and were consoling the bushy-haired bookworm up in the dorms. She'd looked up what the word 'Mudblood' meant after the fact, and it had hurt her badly when she learned what it was.
'Thank God she has friends to care for her,' Harry thought to himself.
"Language!" Percy scolded his younger brother, though it was without any real feeling behind it. More automatic than anything.
"Malfoy called Hermione a, a, well, a bad name! He deserves it!" Ron replied, furiously stabbing his Beef Wellington. Neville nodded, an angry scowl on his face. "And he has to gall to cheat by getting the Slytherins all newer, better brooms? I call it like I see it!"
"Is that even allowed?" Harry asked. "The buying his team better brooms to bribe his way onto the team thing, not the slur thing."
"Yeah, real shady what he did," one of the twins agreed.
"But, technically, not illegal. Wood checked," the other twin replied. "Just like it's not illegal to use a school broom instead of your own for Quidditch matches."
"Huh," Harry said slowly, an idea forming in his head. "I think I need to send a letter after dinner."
Excusing himself early, Harry made his way up to the owlery, pen and paper in hand. He still hadn't gotten used to quills or parchment, yet. Thankfully, most teachers didn't seem to care if he took notes or did minor assignments with a pen. As long as he turned them in and did the work, they were alright with it. Snape being the main exception. But Harry had long ago decided to not care what the bitter old bat in the dungeon thought of him.
"Hey, Hedwig," he said in greeting as his beautiful girl came swooping down to him as soon as he entered the tower full of owls. "I need to send a letter to Ed."
She barked in understanding, and Harry hastily scribbled out his request and then tied it to her leg. She then took off, flying away into the night.
Then, at breakfast the next morning, she returned, extending a leg with a reply on it.
"That was fast," Harry said as he accepted it. As he fed her some sausage as a reward, he read Edward's response.
'Dear Harry, glad to hear things have been going alright so far over at Hogwarts. As for your request, of course! I've heard the brooms used by the school are decades out of date in some cases. That doesn't sound very safe to me so I'll go ahead and get it done. Don't worry about repaying me for this, either. I'll just write it off as a charitable donation on my taxes this year. Pretty sure my accountant can swing that. Anyways, expect them around next week or so! Take care!'
Harry grinned widely when he was done, which naturally caught the attention of his friends.
"What's with that grin?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Nothing, just some good news," Harry replied as he tucked the letter away. None of his friends believed him, but they let it drop for the moment.
Waiting for his plan to come into play wasn't all that fun, but thankfully the days passed in a blur as he got into the routine of schoolwork and studies.
Then, a week after he'd sent his letter to Edward, an owl carrying a large mail pouch flew into the Great Hall one morning, and landed in front of Madam Hooch at the teacher's table.
Curious, Harry watched eagerly as she accepted the pouch from the owl and signed something before handing it back, which the delivery owl took and then flew off with.
Then, Madam Hooch opened the pouch, and proceeded to gasp when she pulled out a brand-new broom from within. And not just any broom, but a Nimbus 2000, the same kind as Harry's!
But that wasn't the only one. With shaking hands, the flying instructor took out another Nimbus 2000. And then another. And another. Soon, other students noticed, and the Great Hall went absolutely silent as everyone watched with dropped jaws as thirty brand-new Nimbus 2000 racing brooms were taken out of the pouch and stacked up onto the table in a big pile.
Slowly, Madam Hooch took out one last item. A letter. She opened it, and as she read it, her eyes widened. Then, she looked up, and caught Harry's gaze.
"M-Mr. Potter?" she called out, stuttering a bit. "C-can you explain why it says here you bought thirty new brooms and are donating them all to Hogwarts?"
Heads immediately snapped towards him from all over the Great Hall. Everyone stared in disbelief, and Harry smoothly rose up from his seat, and cleared his throat while also working hard to keep his surprise in check.
"I remember my flying lessons from last year, and how none of the brooms were very good," he began. "And then, just last week, the Slytherin Quidditch team obtained seven new brooms. Now, I didn't think that was very fair for them to have the latest model of racing broom while the other teams had to use their older ones. So, I figured what better way to resolve this issue than to buy some new brooms. Not just for Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw to use as well."
He then inclined his head apologetically towards Madam Hooch. "I'm afraid they're only last year's models, though. I'm just a kid, and buying thirty Nimbus 2001s was simply too expensive for me at the time, so I had to settle for the Nimbus 2000s. Still, I think that after a bit of training with them, everyone will be able to get used to them in time for their first Quidditch match of the year."
"That's why I'm donating these thirty brooms to Hogwarts," Harry concluded, aware of how everyone was hanging onto his words. "They are to be used as the school sees fit, but I would appreciate it if anybody, especially the Quidditch teams, would be able to freely borrow and use them for games if needed."
'And I'm definitely reimbursing Ed for this!' he thought to himself. 'I just told him to buy a couple of better brooms for the school, not a whole bunch of Nimbuses!'
For a moment, there was just stunned silence. It was broken by a loud, "ONE HUNDRED POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!" from Madam Hooch. This immediately opened the floodgates, and the Great Hall erupted in applause and cheering.
Harry was grabbed by the Weasley twins and then hoisted him into the air before being paraded around on their shoulders while Wood sobbed gleefully and shouted something about organizing new training regimens. The chasers gushed and thanked him, and the captains from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff both came over with their own effusive thanks, shaking his hands and patting his shoulders.
Heck, even some of the Slytherins were clapping, although their mood seemed to be more impressed by Harry's cunning play and reveal than anything else. And a quick glance at Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team revealed that their expressions had turned livid.
But there was also a hint of fear and disbelief on Draco's face. After all, he'd bragged how it had been his father who'd bought his team seven new brooms. Yet here Harry was, casually claiming to having purchased thirty brooms for everyone in Hogwarts to use. And while they were admittedly less expensive, it wasn't by much as they were still top-quality racing brooms costing upwards of several hundred galleons each.
The incredible advantage the Slytherin team had previously possessed was now gone. Sure, their brooms were slightly better, but as Harry had said, skill and talent could really make the difference between a good Quidditch player and a bad one. Didn't matter how expensive your tool was if you couldn't actually use it properly.
'Well, they can stew in their anger all they want,' Harry thought, ignoring the House of the Ambitious for the moment and instead focusing on his friends and admirers.
As he was thanked by what felt like the entirety of three houses for his generosity, Harry completely missed the look of loathing Snape sent his way, nor the calculating gleams in Dumbledore and Lockhart's eyes.
Only time would tell what would come from any of it, though.