Disclaimer: Everythings belongs to J.K.R.
AN: A big THANK YOU to Federer Rex for editing this story with the speed of light.
This story was inspired by a prompt from Fuzzpot. Thank you for that, Fuzzy!
More author's notes at the end of the chapter
The dark turn his conversation with Daphne had taken was gone from Harry's mind when he walked down to lunch with Ron and Hermione on Christmas Day, a broad smile plastered to his face.
A Firebolt!
That had to be the best Christmas gift ever. He couldn't wait to try out his new treasure after lunch.
Ron and Hermione were fighting—again. Crookshanks had made a pass at poor Scabbers when Hermione visited them in their dorm that morning, and Ron hadn't taken kindly to Hermione dismissing the attack on his pet as cats being cats. The resulting fight between his best friends had not yet died down, it felt like he had to act like a living shield between them to prevent them from going at each other. Still, there was nothing that could get him down from his cloud today.
There was only one small table when they entered the Great Hall.
"Merry Christmas to you!" Professor Dumbledore beamed at them from the head of the table. "As there are so few of us it seemed foolish to use the house tables—sit down, sit down."
The friends walked to the last free seats at the end of the table and sat down.
Harry ended up opposite Daphne and her little sister. His heart made an excited jump. Her long braid was draped over one shoulder, and she wore the green bow again.
She smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, Harry!"
His heart fluttered in his chest like a caught Snitch. Gods, she was cute! "Merry Christmas, Daphne, Astoria." Harry smiled at the little girl next to her, who gave him a shy smile and a nod.
Ron's eyebrows almost disappeared behind his ginger fringe as he looked from Harry to Daphne and back. "You know each other?"
"Apparently, Ron," Harry replied, helping himself to some roast potatoes. "We're in the same class, and have shared Potions since our first year."
"Yes, but—"
"Oh, give it a rest, Ronald," Hermione cut in. "Some of us talk to people outside of Gryffindor. Greengrass and I share Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Merry Christmas, Greengrass."
Daphne returned the greeting.
Ron watched the exchange, his earlobes quickly turning red.
Harry's stomach sank. That was always a sign for a fight brewing. Gods, why now? He didn't want Ron to pick yet another fight today, especially not with Daphne. What must she think of him?
"Oi, I do talk to people outside of my house," Ron said a little too loudly, "just not to—"
"Slimy snakes?" Daphne finished the sentence for him, a sweet smile on her lips, but her pretty blue eyes throwing daggers.
Ron's head snapped from Hermione towards Daphne. His face darkened. "Yeah. What do you want from Harry?"
The sweet smile stayed on Daphne's face. "Oh, many things that will send you into an even bigger frenzy, Weasley."
Hermione choked, and Daphne's sister giggled.
"Right now, I just want to know how Harry's Christmas morning was." Daphne turned her smile towards Harry. "Good haul?"
An avalanche seemed to go off Harry's chest. He breathed out and relaxed. Thankfully, Daphne didn't put the blame for Ron's behaviour at his feet.
"Hermione, did you hear that? She just threatened Harry!" Ron shouted.
Daphne ignored him, although the slight twitching of the corners of her mouth indicated that she had heard him.
Heat shot into Harry's cheeks. Why must Ron embarrass him each time he was talking to a pretty girl? There was that incident with Chang at the beginning of the year, and now Daphne, and this felt somehow worse.
"Ronald, you'd better put food into your mouth instead of your foot, however disgusting that may be," Hermione said and cut her turkey.
Daphne and her little sister snorted.
Another weight slid off Harry's shoulders. He ignored his bickering best friends and said, "The best. Someone gave me a Firebolt."
"Wow, that's neat." The next moment, her face creased into a frown. "What does that mean: someone? Don't you know who gave it to you?"
"There wasn't a card attached to it." Harry shrugged. "Probably it got lost during the delivery. Ron and I searched everywhere, but we couldn't find it."
The frown stayed on Daphne's face. "That's not good, Harry. What if someone who wants to settle a score with you sent the broom? I can think of a few people who fit that description."
He rolled his eyes at her. "Now you sound like Hermione."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Daphne said, not fazed by his light bout of annoyance. "She's smart, and you've told me again and again what a good friend she is to you." She stabbed a piece of roast potato with her fork and raised it to her mouth, but stopped the motion right in front of her pink lips. "You could do worse than listen to her, you know." The potato disappeared behind her lips and she chewed.
Harry considered what she said as he chewed. She had a point, he also knew people out there who might want to harm him, if not kill him. Sirius Black came to mind, but Lucius Malfoy was also high on the list after the Dobby incident, and he'd already done something similar to Ginny when he put the cursed diary into her cauldron.
His shoulders slumped. Hermione was smart. But so was Daphne. If the two smartest girls he knew both had a bad feeling about his Christmas present, he'd better listen to them.
He sighed, put his cutlery on his plate, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and took a sip from his goblet. "What do you suggest?"
"Well, you could ask one of the professors to have a look at the broom. Madam Hooch, or perhaps Professor Flitwick. They both should be able to tell if the broom has been tampered with."
"That makes sense." He nodded. "I'll talk to Professor McGonagall after the feast."
"Brilliant." Daphne beamed at him. "Christmas cracker?" She picked up a large silver one and offered the other end to him.
Harry laughed and tugged.
The cracker flew apart with a bang like a gunshot and revealed a large, pointed wizard's hat that was decorated with real candy canes.
Daphne pushed the hat towards him with a giggle. "My hair already looks like a candy cane, I don't need more."
Harry joined her laughter and put the hat on his head.
Astoria giggled. "Now you're a perfect match."
Heat shot into Harry's face, but he didn't take the hat off.
The colour on Daphne's cheeks deepened, and she sent her sister a look that clearly said, 'Behave!', which had Astoria giggle even harder. It was contagious, and soon Harry joined, together with Daphne, and forgot about being embarrassed.
Two hours later, full with Christmas dinner and still wearing his cracker hat, Harry got up from the table.
Ron looked up to him with eager eyes. "Are you getting the Firebolt? I'll meet you at the Quidditch pitch."
Would Ron understand Hermione's and Daphne's apprehensions about the broom? Most likely not. He didn't want to have a fight about that with his best friend in the middle of the Great Hall and in front of all the professors, though. Snape would have a field day and take away points from them for that, Christmas be damned. "Uhm—not yet, I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall," he mumbled.
"Sure, mate," Ron said, visibly taken aback. He shrugged and pushed his chair back to get up. "Just don't turn it over to Hermione. See you in the common room."
Harry raised a hand in agreement and continued his way to Professor McGonagall, who sat next to the headmaster at the other end of the table. He waited until she had finished her conversation with Professor Dumbledore, cleared his throat, and said, "May I have a word, Professor?"
She looked up, her eyebrows raised. "You may, Mr Potter. Is there a problem?"
"I'm not sure, but Hermione and Daphne think there might be one." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "There was this present next to my bed. It didn't have a card, and it was a Firebolt—"
Professor McGonagall took a sharp breath, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I see. Where is the broom now, Mr Potter?"
"Up in my dorm. I can get it for you if you want to have a look at it, Professor."
"There's no need for that, Mr Potter." She stood up. "I'm coming with you. Oh, and ten points to Gryffindor for thinking first."
"That wasn't me," Harry said as he hurried to keep up with Professor McGonagall's brisk walk. "Hermione got suspicious right away when I told her, and Daphne confirmed that."
Professor McGonagall turned her head towards him and gave him one of her rare close-lipped smiles. "Then take them for listening to reason, Mr Potter. And another ten points to Gryffindor for promoting inter-house friendship."
"Thank you, Professor." Harry's face grew warm. Professor McGonagall must be in high Christmas spirits if she gave that many points to him—or maybe another sort of spirit was responsible for that, going by her flushed cheeks. He was still sniggering to himself when they reached the portrait hole.
The Fat Lady was gone, probably partying with her friend Violet in some other picture frame in the castle. In her stead, Sir Cadogan guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, although he was also having a Christmas party with a couple of monks, several previous Headmasters of Hogwarts, and his fat pony. He pushed up his visor and toasted them with a flagon of mead.
"Merry–hic—Christmas! Password?"
"Don't you recognise me? Open for the Head of House Gryffindor, you swalled auld duffer," Professor McGonagall said with a stern look and in a broad Scottish brogue.
Sir Cadogan stood at attention, with the monks and former headmasters roaring with laughter in the background.
"Right—hic—sorry, Minnie, my gal."
This time, Harry couldn't stop his sniggers and hastily masked them as a cough.
Professor McGonagall gave Sir Cadogan a scathing look. The portrait swung to the side, and she climbed through, Harry following her. He went straight up to his dorm and returned to the common room moments later, the precious broom in one hand. He held it out to his Head of House.
"Here you go, Professor."
"Thank you, Mr Potter."
Harry's chest tightened as she took the broom from him. He didn't have many nice things, the Firebolt was the most expensive present he ever received, and he would have loved to be able to show Malfoy up for once. It seemed as if that wasn't meant to be, going by how the wrinkles between Professor McGonagall's brows deepened by the second as she inspected the broom. He shuffled his feet and looked down. Why was he even surprised? Anything good that happened to him came with a drawback that made everything twice as bad than before.
The sound of Sir Cadogan's drunken voice wafting into the quiet common room made him look up.
Hermione and Ron climbed through the portrait hole and walked towards them.
When Ron noticed their Head of House standing in the common room, his eyes grew wide, and he stopped in his tracks, staring at her.
Not that he blamed his best friend for staring. Though Professor McGonagall was their Head of House, she'd only come to the common room once, and that had been to make a grave announcement.
Hermione passed by the professor with a polite greeting and a fleeting glance at the Firebolt, sat down on the sofa near the fireplace, grabbed the book she'd been reading there before they left for Christmas dinner, and hid her face behind it. Apparently, his smart friend had realised at a glance what this unusual visit was about and now tried to stay out of the explosion that would follow as soon as Ron realised what was going on.
He'd never pegged Hermione for a coward.
Professor McGonagall finished her inspection of the broom and looked at Harry. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Mr Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"
"No," Harry said with a sigh.
"I see—" Professor McGonnagal said. "Well, I'm afraid I'll have to take this, Mr Potter."
Harry hung his head and nodded, he'd already expected this outcome.
"W—what?" Ron, startled out of his stupor, stumbled forward.
"It will need to be checked for jinxes," Professor McGonagall said. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch or Professor Flitwick will strip it down—"
"Strip it down?" Ron repeated, his voice rising.
"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," Professor McGonagall said to Harry, ignoring Ron's outburst. "You should have it back when we are sure it is jinx-free, in time for the spring games."
"There's nothing wrong with it," Ron said, his voice shaking. "Honestly, Professor—"
"You don't know that, Mr Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. "Not until someone has flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid this is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed."
She gave Harry a curt nod, turned on her heel, and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole which closed behind her.
Ron stared after her in a stunned silence. The next moment, he rounded on Harry.
"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"
Hermione lowered her book. "It's Professor McGonagall, Ron. And Harry had a valid reason to ask for her opinion."
"I'm curious what that might be." Ron stood, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his earlobes a deep shade of red, and alternating his glare between his friends.
Harry matched his stance. "Because Daphne thought—and Professor McGonnagal agrees with her—that the Firebolt was sent to me by Sirius Black."
"Bollocks!" Ron spat.
Hermione threw her book aside and jumped up from the sofa. "Now, listen, Ronald—"
Ron whirled towards her with a growl. "Don't you Ronald me, Hermione!"
Hermione stopped in her tracks, taken aback, and sent a helpless look towards Harry.
Part of him sympathised with Ron's anger. It was a Firebolt, after all, the best broom out there, and the mere thought that Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick would tear it apart had him cringe with almost physical pain. Would it ever be the same after that? The bigger and more sensible part of him, however, knew it was the right thing to do. He didn't want a repeat with a jinxed broom like he'd had during his first Quidditch game.
"Daphne's right, and you know it, Ron," he said, forcing himself to stay calm.
Ron jerked back to him. "She's a snake, Harry! You can't trust her! What did she do to you that you'll take her words for granted?"
"Being nothing but kind and helpful," he answered, while his neck grew warm. How did Ron dare talk like that about Daphne? He didn't know her at all.
"I don't believe it!" Ron threw his arms into the air with a frustrated scream, whirled around, and stormed out of the common room.
"You're not being kind and helpful." Harry said quietly.
t.b.c.
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