Harry Potter 03 - Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. ‘Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter.’
    Harry and Ron looked around at Hermione. They could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was upside-down.
    ‘May I?’ said Professor McGonagall, but she didn’t wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt out of their hands. She 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.
    ‘I see …’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Well, I’m afraid I will have to take this, Potter.’
    ‘W-what?’ said Harry, scrambling to his feet. ‘Why?’
    ‘It will need to be checked for jinxes,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Of course, I’m no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down –’
    ‘Strip it down?’ repeated Ron, as though Professor McGonagall was mad.
    ‘It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free.’
    ‘There’s nothing wrong with it!’ said Harry, his voice shaking slightly. ‘Honestly, Professor –’
    ‘You can’t know that, Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, ‘not until you’ve flown it, at any rate, and I’m afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed.’
    Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione.
    ‘What did you go running to McGonagall for?’
    Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.
    ‘Because I thought – and Professor McGonagall agrees with me – that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!’

 
     
– CHAPTER TWELVE –
     
The Patronus
    Harry knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn’t stop him being angry with her. He had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, he didn’t know whether he would ever see it again. He was positive that there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt now, but what sort of state would it be in once it had been subjected to all sorts of anti-jinx tests?
    Ron was furious with Hermione, too. As far as he was concerned, the stripping-down of a brand-new Firebolt was nothing less than criminal damage. Hermione, who remained convinced that she had acted for the best, started avoiding the common room. Harry and Ron supposed she had taken refuge in the library, and didn’t try and persuade her to come back. All in all, they were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again.
    Wood sought Harry out on the night before term started.
    ‘Had a good Christmas?’ he said, and then, without waiting 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 –’
    Wood broke off, looking awkward.
    ‘I’m working on it,’ said Harry quickly. ‘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,’ said Wood, his expression clearing. ‘Well, in that case – I really didn’t want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?’
    ‘No,’ said Harry.
    ‘What! You’d better get a move on, you know – you can’t ride that Shooting Star against Ravenclaw!’
    ‘He got a Firebolt for Christmas,’ said Ron.
    ‘A Firebolt ? No! Seriously? A – a real Firebolt ?’
    ‘Don’t get excited, Oliver,’ said Harry gloomily. ‘I haven’t got it any more. It was confiscated.’ And he explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes.
    ‘Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?’
    ‘Sirius Black,’ Harry said wearily. ‘He’s supposed to be after me. So McGonagall reckons he might have sent it.’
    Waving aside the information that a famous murderer was after his Seeker, Wood said, ‘But Black couldn’t have bought a Firebolt! He’s on the run! The whole country’s on the