Author's Note: Long time no write, how's everyone doing? Wow, has it really been two months since my last update? Eek!
Well, I do have an excuse. Not only had work been crazy, but I also got myself a new job, so I've been busy on interviews, thinking about interviews, worrying about interviews, etc. Then, after I got the job, I've been busy transitioning all the crap off of my desk onto someone else's. Now that I have a moment, here's the next chapter. It's more of a transition chapter then anything else. And warning, there's some naughty language in this chapter.
Chapter Three
Once the shock of the situation had worn off, my mind turned to the next logical topic: which spell or combination of spells was I going to use on the person who took my broom? Although Unforgivables were out of the question, popping boils sure sounded good. Or maybe some sort of disfiguring spell, something that would move the person's ears to the back of their head and their nose to the top. Or maybe -
"Er, Harry?"
Somewhat annoyed to be interrupted in the middle of my diabolical planning, I answered gruffly, "What?"
"Er, why don't you try summoning it?"
I cocked my head to the side. "Summoning it?"
Ron nodded. "Sure. After all, you summoned your broom from the dorm room all the way to Quidditch pitch, and that was in fourth year. You're much better at it now."
I nodded slowly, slightly impressed. Sometimes there's more to Ron than just Quidditch, candy, and girls. Okay, not really - that's why he's so predictable. Raising my wand, I focused on my Firebolt and said, "Accio Firebolt!" There was a tense, dramatic pause while all of us waited for the broom to come flying in from any direction. But after a minute, it was clear that the broom wasn't coming.
"Try again?" Neville suggested.
I waved my wand again. "Accio Firebolt!" But nothing happened. Since my spell should've been strong enough to summon my broom from all but the most powerful of restraining spells, either Dumbledore of Voldemort must've stolen my broom. But since Voldemort is dead, and Dumbledore has a much cooler broom, that didn't seem likely. I could think of only one other reason why my spell failed: my broom was destroyed. A split second after that thought entered my mind, something nearby caught on fire, which Seamus quickly put out with his wand.
I rounded on them, causing them to take a collective step backwards. "Who the hell would take my broom?" I roared while they all cringed. "What slimy, underhanded, sniveling, cowardly little son of a -"
And then the answer came to me. Ron and I locked eyes for a split second before we both uttered the same name. "Malfoy."
We both nodded in a moment of masculine understanding. I quickly rummaged through the pile of my things and pulled out the Marauders Map. A quick promise-to-do-no-good later, and I saw that Malfoy was currently on rounds with Susan Bones. I shared a satisfied grin with Ron, and then we set off to find the little bastard, the other guys right behind me. I was halfway across the Common Room when I heard my name called.
"Harry! Harry! What happened? What's going on?"
I turned, surprised to see Hermione running down the stairs to us. "Huh? Wah? How did you know anything was the matter?"
"Harry, you were throwing off so much magical energy that everyone could tell something was the matter. Now, what's wrong?"
Only after she said that did I notice that everyone in the Common Room looked slightly nervous, or even fearful. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Someone took my broom. Someone, I might add, who is going to know what it means to cross Harry Potter. Someone who is going to see, firsthand, why I was able to defeat Voldemort. Someone who will truly understand the meaning of the word `suffering.' Someone who is going to feel my wrath, like the heat from a thousand burning suns, like a tidal wave of destruction that will -"
"Harry! Harry! Let's try and focus here, okay?" Hermione said, interrupting me mid-rant. So much for calming down. "How do you know it's gone?" she asked, her voice a little shaky from my flare-up of anger.
"It's gone, Hermione," Ron said. "We looked everywhere, and Harry even tried summoning it."
Hermione's eyes went wide at that; she no doubt understood what my failed spell meant for the broom. "Then…where were you planning on going?"
"We know who took it," Ron said, a little smugly.
"What? Who?"
"Malfoy," I spat.
Hermione gave a strange sort of laugh. I glared at her, which stifled that quickly. She composed herself. "Malfoy?" she asked, incredulously. "What makes you think Malfoy took your broom?"
"Who else then?"
"Listen to yourselves. Malfoy? How on earth could Malfoy have gotten into Gryffindor Tower? And if he could, why would he only take your broom?"
I shook my head slightly, unable to believe I was having this conversation. "Are you kidding me? I'm sure there are tons of ways to sneak into the dorms!"
"Oh? Name one."
Argh! Stupid Hermione and her logic. "What? Are you suggesting that someone in Gryffindor stole my broom?" I challenged.
"No, of course not," she said in an overly calm voice. "Maybe you simply misplaced it."
"Misplaced it?" I repeated. "Never!"
"Look, all I'm saying is maybe you should sleep on it. You might find it in the morning, or maybe it'll turn up."
I suppressed a growl and stole a glance at the Map. Malfoy was nearby - I could practically smell the nasty cologne he wears. "Forget it Hermione. Malfoy took it." I turned and started walking towards the exit, with Hermione close behind.
"And if he didn't? What then?" she asked.
"If he didn't," I replied as I put one foot through the portrait hole, "then he'll get a beating for old times' sake."
"Harry, you can't do this!"
"No? Watch me."
"Harry, you can't just go out and beat him up! He's prefect, and it's after hours."
Without turning back, I waved my hand dismissively.
"Harry, if you go out there, I'll…I'll…I'll take points from Gryffindor!"
That stopped me in my tracks. I turned around slowly and walked back towards the portrait hole, where Hermione stood defiantly. I noticed all the other Gryffindors were crowded around the portrait holes, watching with rapt attention. Ron was standing behind Hermione, looking shocked. "What did you say?" I asked.
She stuck her chin up. "I said I'll take points if you leave after hours."
"You wouldn't…I've been out after hours loads of times. You've never taken points off before."
"That was then. Things were different back then. This now."
I stared at her, and then suddenly laughed. "You wouldn't," I repeated. "Not from your own house," though what I really meant was `not from me.'
"Try me," she dared.
I looked over Hermione's shoulder at Ron, and he only shrugged. I regarded Hermione carefully, then repeated, "You wouldn't." I turned around and started walking again.
I hadn't gotten further than three paces when I heard her say, "Ten points from Gryffindor!"
An audible gasp went up from the direction of the Common Room. I turned around and looked at Hermione, my emotions all over the place. Had she really taken points from me? There were literally no words to describe what I was feeling, so I didn't even try. One crisis at a time, and this one would have to wait in queue behind the broom. "Fine!" I spat. "But you're not stopping me." And with, I turned and started walking down the hall.
I half expected more points to be taken, but instead I heard Hermione say, "Oh no you don't, Ronald Weasley! One crazed boy roaming the halls is enough. You get back into the Common Room this instant or I'll take more points from Gryffindor."
I turned the corner, so I didn't hear his response. A few seconds later, I heard footfalls behind me and assumed he had either convinced Hermione to let him go or had taken the hit to our point total. So it was with great surprise that I turned and found Hermione walking beside me.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"If you're going to be too thick-headed to listen to reason, then it's my responsibility to limit the amount of trouble you can cause," she replied, not looking at me.
I didn't know how to interpret that statement, whether she meant it as a friend or not, so instead I referred to the Map and found my bearings. I changed course, and within minutes I heard Malfoy's snotty voice echoing off the halls. A second later he spotted us.
"Well, if it isn't the great hero and the great Head Girl," he said in his usual contemptuous voice. "Out for a little stroll, I -"
But then he found it hard to talk, what with my fist crashing into his jaw. He fell to the ground and then scampered backwards, drawing his wand as he went. Before anyone could react, he cried out, "Stupify!"
I blocked the red beam of light with my hand using a fancy little shielding charm that Dumbledore taught me. Essentially, it was a far more powerful version of the standard shielding charm, but with the drawback that it covered a much smaller area - a circle with a diameter of about a foot. Not very useful to most wizards and witches, but, hell, I wasn't the youngest Seeker in a century because of my good looks. I learned to cast the spell so that it stayed on the palm of my hand, and I had little trouble blocking spells coming from a single opponent. If I could use it successfully against Voldemort, then Malfoy shouldn't be a problem.
Speaking of the pointy-headed bastard, he scrambled to his feet and started throwing more curses and hexes at me. I walked towards him, blocking his spells until I was right in front of him. Then I swatted away his wand and gave him another punch to the jaw, knocking him to the ground. I was about to pounce on him and give him a real beating, Muggle-style, when Hermione latched herself onto my arm.
"Harry! Stop it!"
I tried to shake her off, but she was holding on tight. "Let go Hermione!"
"No! You're acting crazy!"
"Yeah, no shit," came an angry reply. Malfoy wiped the blood off of his chin and looked up at us. "What's come over you Potter? What the hell was that for?"
"You little -" I tried to lunge at him again, but by this time Hermione was standing in front of me. I tried kicking him, but he was out of range. "You stole my broom, you little fucker!"
"You're outta your mind, Potter! I didn't touch your precious little broom!"
"Liar!"
"Fuck you!"
"No, f-"
"Harry!" Hermione interrupted, before I could get my clever retort in. "You have ways of knowing if he's lying, remember? Is he?"
I glared at Hermione - always using that damn logic. I took a deep breath and looked at Malfoy. "Did you steal my broom?" I asked in a low voice.
Malfoy crossed his arms in front of him. "No I didn't."
And then I knew he wasn't lying. Sure, I still hated the bastard, but I guess that meant I couldn't hit him again. "Fine," I said, and then turned to walk away.
" `Fine?' `Fine?!' That's all I get? You come over here and hit me for something I didn't do, and all you say is `Fine?!' "
"Consider it payback for six years of having to deal with your shit," I called back as I continued walking. Hermione and I walked wordlessly back to Gryffindor Tower; she being smart enough not to say `I told you so.' Only when we got back to the Common Room did the anger-fueled adrenaline wear off, and I noticed that my hand hurt. A lot. I looked at it and hissed at the sight of blood on my knuckles.
Hermione came over and gingerly took my hand, examining it. "Sit down and wait here," she said gently, but firmly. She took off towards the girls' dorm and returned shortly with a familiar sight - a bowl of murtlap. She placed the bowl in front of me, and I sighed as I dipped my aching hand into the bowl.
"Thanks," I said.
She nodded, and then said hesitantly, "You know…I was only trying to-"
"It's okay," I interrupted. "I understand." We smiled at each other, and, at least for the moment, things seemed normal between us. And while I was happy about that, the question still hadn't been answered: where the hell was my broom?
A/N: Ah, the mystery deepens. Or maybe not, if you already know who stole the broom. Or maybe, if you know who stole the broom but don't know why.
Anyway, I start my new job on Monday, so I'm not sure when the next update will be. Hopefully quicker than two months though; I have some fun angst in store!
-->