Chapter 22 - A Match, a Map, and a Broom
(A/N - One of my reviewers mentioned that the *CANON* breaks in the last chapter were slightly irritating, and made a good case to support her opinion, but I don't know a better way to note the canon sections. There is a LOT of canon included in this chapter, marked with the ****** marks again, so if you have a copy of POA it might be good to have it ready if you want to follow along - your choice, of course.)
The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder. Strangely enough, only a few students were somewhat curious about why he had apparently tried to enter Gryffindor tower, when his supposed target was a member of Slytherin house.
Three of those curious students had discussed that very subject in the Great Hall when they found themselves in sleeping bags next to each other that night. "It just doesn't make any sense, Harry!" Hermione said. "Surely he's heard which house you are in, especially if he is a supporter of You-Know-Who like everyone says!"
Harry pondered on this for a moment. "Well, I don't know, Granger…maybe he got confused or something. I mean, he didn't even remember that we would all be in the Great Hall for the Halloween feast tonight, either."
"I reckon he's lost track of time, being on the run," said Ron. "Didn't realize it was Halloween. Otherwise he'd have come bursting in here."
******
"Potter, please have a seat." Professor Snape said, firmly. He had told Harry to meet him in his office after Potions that day.
"Yes, sir. May I ask what you wanted to see me about?"
"There's no point hiding it from you any longer, Potter," he said in a very serious voice. "I know this will come as a shock to you, but Sirius Black -"
"I know he's supposed to be after me," said Harry wearily. "I overheard a member of the Ministry talking about it earlier in the year."
"Let me guess, Arthur Weasley, correct? Well, I never thought he was too good at keeping secrets." Snape sneered. "Well, in that case, let's get to the point. I have been instructed by others at this school to remove you from the Quidditch training sessions until…the alleged attacker has been apprehended. While I understand their concern, I informed them that I felt this was completely unnecessary. You know the situation, of course…with Malfoy continuing to milk the 'injury' to his arm to get out of class work, we are already down one player. As you know, we can play if we are down a Chaser, but we can't play at all without a Seeker. Since, fortunately for us, you are the official backup Seeker, Flint was intending to start you on Saturday. However, if you are not allowed to play, we will be forced to forfeit and Gryffindor will play Hufflepuff instead. I am told that they consider my plans to have you play are a result of my obvious desire to see Slytherin defeat Gryffindor once again, instead of being concerned for your safety. I asked that I be allowed to discuss it with you, and see what your feelings were, before a final decision would be made."
"Me…Seeker…against Gryffindor?" Harry's eyes grew wide as he realized what he had just heard. "But…Sir…they can't do this to me…to the team! I mean, Black didn't even come anywhere near me, now did he? We've got our first match on Saturday! I've got to train, Professor!"
Snape said, dryly, "I take that as a sign that you would rather play, then? Hmmm… very good, Potter, but for a minute there, you sounded more like a Gryffindor than a Slytherin." Harry looked at his head of house and saw his eyes betray the smile that he was trying to suppress. "I will propose a compromise which I hope will be accepted by the powers that be. If a teacher, perhaps Madam Hooch, were to oversee your training sessions, this should provide sufficient protection to calm their worries. Is that acceptable, Potter?"
"Yes, sir! As long as I get to play Seeker against Gryffindor Saturday, I'll be willing to put up with just about anything!" Harry said, somewhat prophetically.
******
Within five minutes of leaving the ground after Madam Hooch had blown her whistle to start the match, Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly able to see his teammates, let alone the tiny snitch. <Just great,> he thought, <my first chance as a Seeker in a real match, and we have to have it during a gale!> He flew backward and forward across the field past blurred red and green shapes, with no idea what was happening in the rest of the game. Twice Harry came very close to being unseated by a Bludger; his vision was so clouded by the rain on his glasses he hadn't seen them coming.
With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle; Harry could just see Marcus Flint's unmistakable outline through the thick rain, gesturing him to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.
"Gryffindor called for time-out, the wimps!" Flint roared at his team to be heard over the wind. "Come on, over here -" and he led them, Harry noticed, not under an umbrella like Gryffindor had set up, but into a circle on the edge of the field. "Hmmph," Flint said, sneering, "those weakling Gryffs can't even handle a little rain. So much for bravery, eh, Potter?"
Actually, Harry was slightly jealous of the Gryffindors, especially since his vision was still quite obstructed by the large raindrops that were pelting all of them. Help came from an unexpected source, however. As he heard Marcus encouraging the team by telling them that they were fifty points up in the worst storm to hit a Hogwarts Quidditch Match since 1894, he felt someone come up behind him.
"Miss Puckle? What are you doing here?" Harry said, goggling at her beaming face under her cloak.
"Well, I could tell you were having trouble seeing things, Harry, so I thought I'd help you with your vision. Honestly, I'd swear that you can't see something right in front of your face, eh, Potter?" He could have sworn she was almost flirting with him as she said this. "Besides, its not like you are playing Ravenclaw, now is it? And, maybe, some of your housemates may just figure out that I'm not all that horrible! Give me your glasses, quick!"
Curious as to what she was going to do, he handed them to her. As the team watched with barely concealed disdain for the "Mudblood" professor in their midst, Harmony tapped them with her wand and said, "Impervius".
"There!" she said, smiling widely at him as she handed them back to Harry. "They'll repel water!"
For a brief second, Harry had the distinct urge to grab his Charms professor and kiss her right in front of the whole school. <Where did that idea come from?> he thought wildly. <Not a good idea, Potter! That's just not right! Why is Miss Puckle acting like that, anyway?>
Harry could say one thing for sure, though; Harmony's spell had done the trick. He was still numb with cold, still wetter than he'd ever been in his life, but he could see. Full of fresh determination, and with a fifty-point lead, he urged his broom through the turbulent air, staring in every direction for the Snitch, avoiding a Bludger, ducking beneath the Gryffindor Seeker, who was streaking in the opposite direction…
******
Scariest…the scariest thing… hooded black figures…cold…screaming…
Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing, eyes still quite blurry since his glasses seemed to be missing. Someone who looked vaguely like Marcus Flint was standing next to his bed spattered with mud from head to foot. "Oh, so you're awake, Potter…guess the fall didn't kill you after all! Although, since you lost the match for us with that little stunt, I'm not sure you wouldn't have been better off. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but just a word of warning from your team captain…your housemates aren't all that happy with you right now. And to think, I actually thought you were a better Seeker than Malfoy? At least he can stay on his broom for a whole match! Well, now that I know you're not dead, I'll leave you to the nurse." And with that, Flint turned on his heel in a huff and left.
"Wh…what was that all about?" Harry said, still a bit groggy and unable to see. "What happened…why am I in bed? Did Marcus just say…we lost?"
A completely unexpected voice answered him. "Yes, Potter, we won…but we don't have to like how it happened. In fact, we were all just coming in to offer a rematch to Flint when he stormed out of here. I heard what he said, Potter. Is there anything we can do for you? We all honestly thought you had died."
Someone, obviously female from the sound, made a small squeaky noise when he said this.
"Oliver? Oliver Wood? Is that you? Where are my bloody glasses? I can't see anything!" Harry pleaded. He was surprised when he felt his glasses being handed to him by someone with very soft skin, who was still breathing unevenly as he put them on. "Hermione? Wh...why are you here? What's going on?" As he could now see, he looked around and found that the entire Gryffindor team, along with Ron and Hermione, were now gathered around his bed.
"Potter," said one of the Weasley twins, "How're you feeling? You fell…must have been -what- fifty feet!"
"Yeah, but before that, you did some of the best flying I've seen, Harry!" Wood's love of Quidditch skill was rapidly overcoming his concern for Harry's well-being. "Not that I mind, all that much, seeing as you're on Slytherin, but why aren't you their regular Seeker? Marcus must be a fool to keep you as Chaser! I mean, if it hadn't been for those…things attacking you, you would have easily caught the snitch. Just a few more seconds is all it would have taken! And now, it looks like your 'loyal teammates' are going to want to sack you. Better for us, I'm sure, since now we have a chance to win the Cup for the first time in years, but we all think it's a raw deal you're getting. Like I said, I want to offer Flint a rematch, but only if you're the Seeker. We don't want to win that way."
"It's not over yet, said the twin who had spoken earlier. (George? No, that's Fred…Harry thought.) "We won by a hundred points, since Slytherin was up 50 when we got the Snitch, right? So…we still have to beat Ravenclaw, and…"
"Oh, shut it, Fred." Ron said, surprising everyone. "Can't you see Harry's still in bad shape here? As much as I love Quidditch, there's a time and a place for all that stuff later. Now leave him in peace, you lot!"
The team trooped out, muttering condolences and muted congratulations for surviving the fall. Ron watched them leave, and then continued. "Potter, I have to admit, I've not been too much of a fan of yours, you being in Slytherin and all. But, Hermione and Ginny have been working on me quite a bit these last two years whenever I'd listen to them, telling me to give you a chance. I still wasn't convinced, though. But, something about seeing you flying so…brilliantly today in that storm, and then seeing you fall so far because of those…dementors, something inside of me just seemed to snap. It was almost as if I was watching my best mate nearly die right before me. Weird, huh? It's not like we've been too close, but I promise you, Harry, for some crazy reason, I'm on your side now. All right, Potter?" And, once again, he stuck out his hand.
Harry was slightly befuddled as he stared at Ron's hand. "R...right, Ron", but as he shook Weasley's hand, he again felt that this was…familiar. "But, could someone explain to me what happened? I'm still confused as to why I'm here in bed. I sort of remember seeing…a Grim in the stands …reaching for the Snitch…and the dementors…"
"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, then he waved his wand and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away…He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him -"
"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,' said Ron. "And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…"
"Yeah, I know…dead!" Harry said sharply, but he immediately felt bad about it as he saw that Ron and Hermione were both honestly concerned about him. "Sorry, guys…it's just…well, we lost and all…and I heard someone screaming…" he said, still not sure who he had heard. "Wait a minute…what happened to my broom? Did anyone get my Nimbus?"
******
The following Tuesday, Harry was happy to see Professor Lupin back in class. According to Professor Snape, who had substituted during their last lesson, Lupin had been quite ill and unable to teach. Since Harry had been in the Hospital Wing for most of the weekend, he had been unable to finish the werewolf essay they had been assigned. So, before class began, he went up to talk to his professor. "Sir, may I have a word with you? It's about Professor Snape's assignment. I…well, you've probably heard, but I was in the hospital…"
"Don't worry about that, Potter. I've already told all the other classes that they don't have to complete Professor Snape's idea of a little assignment. Miss Granger in Gryffindor is the only one I know of that finished it; and I'm sure that few, if any, of your classmates did. At least you had a valid excuse, Harry!" he said with a smile. "But, see me afterwards… there is something else I'd like to talk to you about. Go ahead and be seated, now."
Harry had a very enjoyable lesson…
******
As Lupin finished his description of why dementors affected him so strongly, and had agreed to teach him how to fight them off, Harry had one more thing he felt he needed to get off his chest. "Sir…you're a teacher, and a guy, and all that. I…well…I need to ask you about something…something else that happened at the match."
"What is it, Harry? Is it about the Grim you thought you saw?" Lupin's eyes were focused on his.
"No, sir, although I wonder how you knew about that? … No, it…it's Miss Puckle, sir! I…she…well, I keep on feeling…that…you know…" and he blushed red, "I think she's got a crush on me or something…and I don't know what to do!"
Remus was taken aback for a second, and then Harry was surprised to see him start to chuckle. "Harry, sometimes you really amaze me…I heard from Ron and Hermione that you told them you saw a Grim in the stands, you get attacked by dementors, almost get yourself killed because of it, and you seem to be more concerned now about a teacher having a crush on you? You know, most boys your age would be bragging about something like that, not worried about it! So, tell me why you think that about her?"
"It's just…well; it seems that whenever I'm around her, she's always smiling at me… differently than she does with the other boys in my class. And, before you ask, yes, I do think she is very pretty, especially when she smiles, but something doesn't seem right about it somehow. I've heard stories about adults accused of getting well, involved with students in the Muggle news, and even if they are proven innocent they end up getting sacked because of it. I don't want her to get in trouble with Dumbledore, you know, and I'm afraid that she will if she keeps this up. Someone's bound to notice, especially after what she did for me at the Quidditch match. I mean, everyone there had to see that she was flirting with me a little bit when she was fixing my glasses. I've heard as much from a few of my housemates, at least those few that are still speaking to me!"
"Potter, I'm very glad you came to me about this first." Lupin said seriously. "I have actually gotten to know Miss Puckle quite well recently, and we have even talked about you in some detail. Without going into specifics, Harry, you can rest assured that what you are sensing as a possible crush from her is actually her deep concern for you as a student and as a person. She sees that you, being a 'half-breed', he said the term with obvious disgust, "will continue to have a struggle 'fitting in' in the house you were placed in. She is trying to…oh, what's the Muggle term… 'cut you some slack', as it were. She wants you, above all else, to be safe. That's why she helped you with your glasses. Not all adults who are friendly to younger people have ulterior motives, you know. Most of us are really just regular people who are trying to be nice. Unfortunately, there are those among us who can't be trusted, and yes, you do need to be careful always. My advice to you in this case, however, is to trust her, Harry. She is a very formidable witch to have on your side, you know, along with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley! She has even asked me to help, to be honest. Quite the team of supporters you have there, Potter! Now, off you go. I've got a lot to do to catch up. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."
******
Two weeks before the end of term, to everyone's delight except Harry's, an announcement was made concerning another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term. Hermione seemed excited about some Christmas shopping she could finish up, and Ron was excited about being able to restock his candy supplies (which, honestly, didn't ever last too long).
Resigned to the fact that he would be the only third year staying behind again, Harry borrowed a copy of Which Broomstick from Flint, who was the only member of the Quidditch team that would even talk to him. "I don't know why you're bothering, Potter. I'm still not sure you have a position on the team. Professor Snape and I are still discussing our options. For now, that old Shooting Star you're riding is probably more suited to your abilities, I'd say."
On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry bid good-bye to Ron and Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned back to return to the Slytherin common room. As he was walking along a dark passageway, he felt something hard hit him in the back of the head, followed by an unmistakable cackle. "PEEVES!" he yelled at the poltergeist that was hovering over his head, upside down, making an obscene gesture at him between his legs. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"
"Just following instructions, wee little Potty!" he giggled. "Doing what the note told me to do and all!"
"What note? What are you talking about?" Harry said as he picked up a small rock, wrapped in a piece of old parchment, with a note attached.
"Found it, I did! It was addressed to me, even! So, I did just what it said, although I probably would have anyway!" he continued to smile wickedly. "The note said, PEEVES…that's me, you know…take this rock and parchment, and go hit Potter in the head with it! And, I thought, what a clever thing to do! So, I went looking for you, and I did it!" And with that, he floated off, cackling merrily.
Harry picked up the parchment and untied it from the rock. As he did so, he saw the attached note to Peeves fade out, and the words changed to read something completely different in an unfamiliar script.
Mr. Potter,
Sorry about the headache you probably have, but it was the best I could come up with under the circumstances. Besides, I probably made Peeves' day today and I owe him a little for something that happened earlier this year. Whatever you do, Harry, don't discard this parchment. I think you will find its unique properties very useful to you. Just think about what you would like to be doing right now, and I'm sure you'll figure it out.
A friend
Harry, rubbing the knot that was forming on his head, was very confused by all this. "What do I need with a bit of old parchment? Last time I got an anonymous gift like this, it ended up being pretty useful, though. Wonder what it does? Hmm…I'll go to the library and look at it closer."
As he walked back into the Entrance Hall on his way to the Library, he heard the Weasley twins across the way, engaged in an obviously heated discussion…er…argument. He couldn't help overhearing their conversation. "You stupid git," Fred was saying to George, "why'd you have to let him see you with it! We've had that for years now!"
George retorted, "Oh, shut it, Fred…we know it by heart anyway! What's the big deal? We were going to let Ron have it for Christmas, weren't we?"
Fred smiled, "Yeah, but now we have to actually buy our little Ronniekins something, don't we? Well, off to Hogsmeade, I guess, after all!" and they headed towards the front doors. "Hey, Filch…we've changed our minds. Not too late, is it?"
In the library, Harry went to one of the more private tables, one that Hermione and he had used when they were working on their joint research the previous year. It was in a section that hardly anyone visited because the books in that area had a tendency to bite you if you got too close to them. Hermione had discovered a counter charm to put the books to sleep, so they were able to sit there safely with little chance of being observed.
He spread the parchment out on the table, and picked up the note again. "What did it say…oh, yes… Just think about what you would like to be doing right now... he read, and he concentrated on walking down the road to Hogsmeade. To his astonishment, he saw a small ink figure appear on the map, labeled Harry Potter. As he watched, the figure pulled out his wand, tapped a piece of parchment he was holding, and a tiny speech bubble appeared. In it, in miniscule writing, were the words "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
"Well, here goes nothing!" Harry thought, as he did exactly as he had been shown.
And, at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point his wand had touched…
******
Harry didn't have a very clear idea of how he had managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into the castle once more. All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing, because his head was still pounding with the conversation he had just heard.
Harry found himself back in his dorm room, alone, completely shocked. Why had nobody ever told him? Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley, Snape, Fudge…why hadn't anyone ever mentioned the fact that Harry's parents had died because their best friend had betrayed them? He looked over at the one picture he had managed to find of his parents on their wedding day. He had come across it in an old moldy box of Petunia's he had found in the attic the previous summer, when she had given him one of his many 'character building' cleaning assignments. It drew his attention at the time because it was obviously a wizard photograph that his mother must have sent to her sister, probably in an attempt to mend fences. There was his father, waving up at him…his mother, arm in arm with his dad. And there…that must be him. Their best man…Harry had never given him a thought before.
******
The dormitory door opened.
"Harry?" said Blaise's voice uncertainly. "Where were you at dinner tonight? You're not still upset about losing that Quidditch match, are you? It's been weeks, Potter! Give it a rest! You know there are a few of us that don't care about that rot. We're still with you! Well, my parents just came to pick me up and I wanted to check on you before I left. See you next term!"
But Harry lay still, pretending to be asleep. He heard Blaise leave again, and rolled over on his back, his eyes now wide open.
******
"Harry, you look terrible."
Harry hadn't gotten to sleep until daybreak. He had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, dressed, and gone down through his also empty common room, out to the Great Hall, where a few students seemed to have gathered. He found Ron (who had stayed because he said he couldn't stand two weeks with Percy) and Hermione (who said something about needing to catch up on her class work) sitting together at a table next to a big fireplace that was now in the hall. <Strange, I don't remember that being here during meals. Must be something new.>
Hermione must have been serious about her studying, because she had commandeered a large section of table with the homework she had spread out. "Hermione, this is ridiculous!" he said as he saw all the books she was using. "No wonder you stayed here - you wouldn't have been able to get this all on the Hogwarts Express! I know you're a bit of a swot, and all," he said with a wink, earning a glare from her as he said it, "but isn't this too much, even for you?"
"Oh, shut it, Potter," she said with a slight grin. "You know I'm taking a few extra courses. Besides, this gives me a chance to use the library without anyone else around."
"Where is everyone?" said Harry.
"Gone! It's the first day of the holidays, remember?" said Ron, watching Harry closely. "It's nearly lunchtime; we were wondering if you were ever going to come down. I was about ready to ask Filch to go roust you out of bed!"
Harry slumped into a nice, comfortable chair that had been set next to the fire. He could tell from the magical ceiling that snow was still falling outside. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger rug…
******
On Christmas morning, Harry woke up, again quite alone in his Slytherin dorm room. "Wonder what anonymous gift I'm getting this year?" he said, half-jokingly, as he put on his glasses. "Just as long as Peeves doesn't throw it at me, whatever it is." So, he was not at all surprised when he saw only one present at the foot of his bed, a long, thin package.
Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming, broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread.
It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up.
<I've got to show this to Ron and Hermione! Bet they're in the Great Hall already! Wow! Won't they be surprised?> Since the dress at Hogwarts during the holidays was decidedly informal in the mornings, Harry threw on his Slytherin dressing gown over his pyjamas and went down to find his friends.
Hermione, however (who looked really cute in her dressing gown, Harry thought…) didn't seem either excited or intrigued by his present. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip.
******
"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it - sweep the floor?' said Ron. But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks jumped right at Ron's chest.
"GET - HIM - AWAY - FROM - ME!" 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, at the same time dropping what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. It whirled and whistled on the floor, and Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.
"What is that, anyway?" Harry said, fascinated by the strange device.
"Oh, that's a Pocket Sneakoscope. It must have fallen out of my dressing gown just now when I was attacked! My brother Bill sent it to me for a Christmas present all the way from Egypt. It's supposed to light up and spin if there is someone untrustworthy around, but Bill said it's just rubbish they sell to tourists and such. At first, I thought he was right, because it's been spinning off and on all day, but I don't know, though…seems to be detecting something untrustworthy right now, doesn't it?", he said as he glared, first at Crookshanks, and then at Hermione, who strode out of the room in a huff, glaring back at him.
"Can't you shut that thing up?" Harry said, and Ron stuffed it in his pocket while he barely stifled his moans of pain and rage…
******
Later that evening, after another memorable feast, Harry (who really didn't want to go back to an empty room) and Ron (who was still in awe of Harry's good fortune) sat together next to the fireplace in the Great Hall, admiring the Firebolt. Harry had even brought out the Broomstick Servicing Kit Hermione had sent him, but he could not find anything to do to it. Then, surprisingly, they saw an unexpected threesome heading their way. Hermione was in the lead, looking very determined, followed by both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, who looked as if he were more than a little annoyed at being included.
Hermione walked around them, sat down, picked up a nearby book, and hid her face behind it.
"So, that's it, is it?" Snape said, walking over to the fireside and starting at the Firebolt. "Miss…Granger here, has notified her head of house that you were sent a broomstick, and the Assistant Headmistress has been so kind as to include me, for once, in matters pertaining to one of my charges." He said this with a definite edge to his voice. "May I?" he continued, but he didn't wait for an answer as he pulled the Firebolt out of their hands. He examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"
"No, "said Harry blankly. He looked over at Hermione, who he could see was still hiding behind the book, which she was holding upside down. The small part of her forehead that he could see was noticeably red.
"I see…," said Professor Snape. "Well, I'm afraid, as head of your house, I will have to take this, Potter. While I don't necessarily agree with some people around here's worst-case assessment of the situation," he said, looking quickly at both Hermione and Minerva, "I must admit that it isn't normal for such an expensive broom to be given to a student under these suspicious circumstances."
"But…sir!" Harry was very exasperated as he realized what was about to happen to his new broom. "Wh…what are you going to do?"
Snape explained, somewhat impatiently, that the broom would have to be examined for jinxes and other problems. "Potter, I assure you that I, especially, would like to see you use this broom in your next Quidditch match. Hopefully you'll be able to remain seated on such a fine model," he said with a smirk. "But, it shouldn't take more than a few weeks to investigate these wild claims, and I will personally return it to you when we find that it is jinx-free."
He could tell that further protests were useless as the two adults left, Snape carrying the Firebolt rather gingerly. Harry stood staring at him, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione.
"What did you go running to McGonagall for? And, why did you have to bring Snape along, too?"
Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron directly.
"Because I thought - and Professor McGonagall, at least, agrees with me - that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"
(A/N - Well, that chapter covered a lot, didn't it? All the way from Halloween to Christmas Day! As you can tell, most of the events in this chapter are very similar to the corresponding three chapters - Ch 9, 10, and 11 of POA -, so I again only wrote the key differences between the timelines. Hope it wasn't too hard to follow! By the way, if you wondered how Fred and George learned how to operate the map in the first place, now you know my ideas on the subject!)