THE WITCHING HOUR ➸ h. potter

9 - quidditch & trolls

Malfoy couldn't seem believe his eyes when he saw that Harry, Ron and I were still at Hogwarts the next day. Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they seemed quite keen to have another one. I, on the other hand, never wanted to experience anything like that ever again.

Harry filled Ron and I in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and we spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," I said.

But as all we really knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, we didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without any further clues.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

And as much as I would like saying the same thing, I knew I couldn't. Because Harry and Ron wouldn't stop - and then they would go and get themselves into trouble, and I would blame myself for not helping them. So it was easier to just go along with their plans and stop anything too ridiculous from happening.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to any of us, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that the two boys saw this as an added bonus. I was a bit disappointed, though. She didn't seem all that bad to me.

But all the boys really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to our great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by two long, thin packages carried by six large screech owls each.

I was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in the large parcels, and was amazed when one bunch of owls soared down and dropped one of them right in front of me. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of my parcel.

I looked over to my right to see that Harry was the person who got the second one. He was looking at me with a confused expression, but I smirked, suddenly putting two and two together and realizing what was inside the packages.

I ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you and Harry tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall

Harry seemed to be having difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

We left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick's in private before our first class, but halfway across the entrance hall we found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them. And why do you have one? Don't tell me you think that one catch meant something. It was beginners luck, Walker. No one as small and scrawny as you would ever make any team."