The Other Potter

LXXVI. FIREBOLT

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On Christmas morning, Mia hurried into Harry and Ron's dorm, holding her presents in her arms and she sat on Neville's empty bed. He grinned when she saw Ron was already awake, but grabbed a pillow to throw at her sleeping brother. 

"Oy! Presents!"

Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents.

"Another sweater from Mum. . . . maroon again. . . . see if you've both got one."

Mia had. Mrs. Weasley had sent her a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. As she moved all these things aside, she saw a long, thin package lying underneath.

"What's that?" said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hand.

"I dunno," she said, "I didn't really notice them."

Mia ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto the bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look.

"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely.

It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Mia had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as she picked it up. She could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for her to mount it. Her blue eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it to you?" said Ron in a hushed voice.

"Look and see if there's a card," said Mia. Both Harry and Ron ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings.

"Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?"

"Well," said Harry, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys."

"I bet it was Dumbledore," said Ron, now walking around and around the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. "He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously. . . ."

"That was my dad's, though," said Harry. "Dumbledore was just passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this. . . ."

"That's why he wouldn't say it was from him!" said Ron. "In case some git like Malfoy said it was favouritism. Hey, Mia," Ron gave a great whoop of laughter, "Malfoy! Wait 'til he sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this is!"

"I can't believe this," Mia muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Harry's bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy. "Who. . . .?"

"I know," said Ron, controlling himself, "I know who it could've been, Lupin!"

"What?" said Harry, now starting to laugh himself ."Lupin? Listen, if he had this much gold, he'd be able to buy himself some new robes." Mia kept her mouth shut as she furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yeah, but he likes you Mia," said Ron. "And he was away when your Nimbus got smashed, and he might've heard about it and decided to visit Diagon Alley and get this for you. . . ."

"What d'you mean, he was away?" said Mia, pretending to not know any different. 

"He was ill when Mia was playing in that match," Harry said.

"Well, he wasn't in the hospital wing," said Ron. "I was there, cleaning out the bedpans on that detention from Snape, remember?"

Harry frowned at Ron.

"I can't see Lupin affording something like this," she admitted.

"What're you three laughing about?"

Hermione had just come in, wearing her dressing gown and carrying Crookshanks, who was looking very grumpy, with a string of tinsel tied around his neck. Mia looked up, her smile fading from her mouth slightly as she looked at Hermione.

"Don't bring him in here!" said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket.

But Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's empty bed and stared, open-mouthed, at the Firebolt.

"Oh, Mia! Who sent you that?"

"No idea," said Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it."

To her great surprise, Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip.

"What's the matter with you?" said Ron.

"I don't know," said Hermione slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?" Ron sighed exasperatedly.

"It's the best broom there is, Hermione," he said.

"So it must've been really expensive. . . ."

"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," said Ron happily.

"Well. . . who'd send Mia something as expensive as that, and not even tell her they'd sent it?" said Hermione.

"Who cares?" said Ron impatiently. "Listen, Mia, can I have a go on it? Can I?" Mia grinned and before she could reply, Hermione interrupted her.

"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione shrilly.

Mia, Harry and Ron looked at her.

"What d'you think Mia's going to do with it, sweep the floor?" said Ron as Mia snorted with laughter.

But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus's bed, right at Ron's chest.

"GET -- HIM -- OUT -- OF -- HERE!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks's claws ripped his pyjamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain.

Crookshanks's fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny, whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon's old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.

"I forgot about that!" Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. "I never wear those socks if I can help it. . . ."

The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," said Ron furiously, sitting on Harry's bed nursing his toe. "Can't you shut that thing up?" he added to Harry as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks's yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron.

Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now were Ron's stifled moans of pain and rage. Scabbers was huddled in Ron's hands. It had been a while since Harry had seen him out of Ron's pocket, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out too.

"He's not looking too good, is he?" Harry said.

"It's stress!" said Ron. "He'd be fine if that big stupid furball left him alone!"

Mia couldn't help but feel that unless Scabbers had powers he had never revealed, he was reaching the end of his life. And despite Ron's frequent complaints that Scabbers was both boring and useless, she was sure Ron would be very miserable if Scabbers died.