Infinite Magic (Male Reader x Harry Potter)

Hermione Is a Snitch

Throughout the castle, the usual magnificent Christmas decorations had been put up, despite the fact that hardly any of the students remained to enjoy them.  Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe were strung along the corridors, mysterious lights shone from inside every suit of armor, and the Great Hall was filled with its usual twelve Christmas trees, glittering with golden stars.  A powerful and delicious smell of cooking pervaded the corridors, and by Christmas Eve, it had grown so strong that even Scabbers poked his nose out of the shelter of Ron's pocket to sniff hopefully at the air.  On Christmas morning, I woke to a pillow floating over my head and Ron yelling.

Ron: Oi!  Presents!

I put my glasses on and looked at the foot of his bed, where a small heap of presents had appeared.  Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents.

Ron: Another sweater from Mum... maroon again... see if you've got one.

We had.  Mrs Weasley had sent Harry and I both a sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front, as well as a dozen home baked cookies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle.  As I moved all these things aside, I saw a long, thin package lying at the foot of Harry's bed.

YN: Hey, what's that?

Harry: Dunno...

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

Ron: I don't believe it.

It was a Firebolt, identical to the broom Harry had gone to see everyday in Diagon Alley.  Its handle glittered as he picked it up and let go.  It hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it.  His 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.

Ron: Who sent it to you?

Harry: Look and see if there's a card.

Ron ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings.

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

Harry: Well, I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys.

YN: Harry, let me see the broom.

I spoke in a serious voice.  Harry looked confused but held it out to me.  I took off my glasses and stared at it.  Nothing.

Harry: What're you doing?

YN: Making sure it's not cursed.  Or have you forgotten there's a serial killer after you?

Both Harry and Ron looked stunned as I stared at the broom for a few more seconds, before handing it back to him and putting my glasses back on.

YN: Nothing.  But let's not tell Hermione it didn't have a note, huh?  Let's say I got it for you, she'd buy that.

Ron: I bet it was Dumbledore.  He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously...

Harry: That was my dad's, though.  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...

Ron: That's why he wouldn't say it was from him!  In case some git like Malfoy said it was favoritism.  Hey, Harry, Malfoy!  Wait till he sees you on this!  He'll be sick as a pig!  This is an international standard broom, this is!

Harry: I can't believe this!

Ron and I were both laughing our heads off at the thought of Malfoy.

Harry: Who...