Bella and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter Thirty

I knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn't stop me from being really angry with her. I had never received a gift that once held a special meaning to someone in my family; my true family, and now because she had gone off running to McGonagall, I don't know if I would ever see it again. Of course, I'm positive that there was nothing wrong with my necklace, but what would it look like once it had been subjected to all sorts of furious anti-jinx tests? Would it be just as beautiful?

"I understand why you told McGonagall, Hermione. But that was the only family heirloom I had ever received," I told her sadly. Hermione ducked her head while saying how sorry she was.

Ron was furious with Hermione. As far as he was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand-new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage. Hermione, who was both sorry and convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the Common Room. Me, Harry, and Ron supposed she had taken refuge in the library, and we didn't try and persuade her to come back. All in all, we were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and the Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again.

Wood sought me and Harry out on the night before term started.

"Had a good Christmas?" he said, and then, without warning for an answer, he sat down, lowered his voice and said, "I've been doing some thinking over Christmas, Harry. After the last match, you know. If the Dementors come to the next one...I mean...we can't afford you to - well -"

"He's working on it," I said quickly.

Harry nodded. "Professor Lupin said he'd train me to ward the Dementors off. We should be starting this week; he said he'd have time after Christmas"

"Ah," Wood said, his expression clearing. "Well, in that case - I really didn't want to lose you as a Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?"

"No," Harry answered.

I looked at him. He had a broom, he just couldn't use it...yet.

"What! You'd better get a move on, you know - you can't die that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!"

"He got a Firebolt for Christmas," Ron said, joining the conversation.

"A Firebolt? No! Seriously! A - a real Firebolt?"

"Don't get too excited, Oliver," I said gloomily. "He hasn't got it anymore. It was confiscated." And then I explained all about how the Firebolt and my necklace were now being checked for jinxes.

"Jinxed? How can they be jinxed?"

"Sirius Black," Harry answered wearily. "He's supposed to be after us. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent them"

Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Keeper and Seeker, Wood said,"But Black couldn't have bought a Firebolt! He's on the run! The whole country's on the lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy a broomstick?"

"I know," I said, "but McGonagall still wants to strip them down -"

Wood went pale.

"I'll go and talk to her, Harry," he promised. "I'll make her see reason...a Firebolt...a real Firebolt, on our team...she wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do...I'll make her see sense.. a Firebolt..."

*

Lessons started again the next day. The last thing we all felt like doing was spending two hours in the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for our enjoyment, and we spent an unusually good lesson collection dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing, while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching us palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life-lines she had ever seen.