The Tenth Weasley

Chapter 15

*Chapter 15*

When the three of us walked into the Great Hall the next morning, smiling and laughing though still weary, Malfoy was shocked to say the least. After a night's sleep Harry and Ron seemed to view our unfortunate meeting with the three-headed dog the night before as an excellent adventure. I still had my reservations,  skeptical about what could be so important that Dumbledore couldn't trust would be kept safe in the safest place on earth?  Harry had spent the walk to the Great Hall filling Ron and I in about the package that he had seen in vault seven hundred and thirteen when he visited Gringotts with Hagrid; we spent the remainder of the morning debating over the contents of the mysterious, heavily guarded package.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," added Harry.

All we actually knew about the object was that it was about two inches long and without further clues that gave us nothing to go on.

Neither Hermione nor Neville showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. In fact, all Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione was now refusing to speak to the three of us, Harry and Ron viewed this as an added bonus but it made the mornings quite difficult when I could feel her glaring at me with such hate and annoyance whilst attempting to get dressed ion a timely manner. All the boys needed now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived with the post about a week after the fake dual.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual carrying letters and small packages; everyone's attention was caught at once when six large screeching owls entered, carrying a long thin package between them. The three of us sat, staring in awe and curiosity at the unusual object and wondering what could possibly be concealed beneath the brown paper. We were amazed when the owls suddenly soared down and dropped it right in front of Harry, knocking his half-eaten bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harry eagerly tore open the letter first, smiling with glee then showing it to Ron and I, it read:

'DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand , but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the field at seven o' clock for your first training session.

Professor M. McGonagall'

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously whilst my eyes were still fixated on the package that I now know concealed the fastest broom in the world, every aspiring Quidditch players dream. "I've never even touched one."

We left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap in private before our first lesson, but halfway across the Entrance Hall we found our way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back at Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be for it this time, Potter, first-years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist the temptation.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry and I, feeling proud of finally one-uping Malfoy. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your siblings have to save up, twig by twig."

Before I could answer back with a harsh retort, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked, adding "and girl" after noticing me standing slightly behind Harry.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly, a sadistic grin spreading across his pale face.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harry, the three of us fighting not to laugh at the look of pure horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added for good measure.

Harry, Ron and I headed upstairs, smothering our laughs at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as we reached the top of the marble staircase. "If he hadn't stole Neville's Rememberball I wouldn't be in the team..."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind us. Hermione was stomping up the stairs looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry, hoping for the previous tranquil state of ignorance that we were in would return without argument.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron. "It's doing us so much good."

Hermione marched away with her nose in her air, letting us forget about her hatred of us and return our thoughts to the most pressing matter in question, the broomstick still neatly wrapped in Harry's hand. Due to Hermione and Malfoy's interruption we no longer had an opportunity to look at the broomstick before having to attend first lesson.

The day was tiring, relentless and ever-lasting. My mind could focus on nothing but the broomstick laid in the boy's dormitory, awaiting our arrival. The lack of concentration I had all day led to numerous mistakes in various lessons, but I couldn't bring myself to care when the prospect of inspecting a world class broom was still in the forefront of my thoughts. I hoped to one day play Quidditch like Harry would; racing across the pitch, cheering students littering the stands, scarlet robes billowing out behind me as I flew effortlessly through the crisp air.

We bolted our dinners that evening, without even noticing what we were enthusiastically eating in a hurry and then rushed upstairs to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," I sighed, as the broomstick gracefully rolled onto Harry's bedspread.