ᴅɪsᴘᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʙᴏʀᴇᴅᴏᴍ | ᴍᴀʀᴀᴅᴇᴜʀs' ᴇʀᴀ

Chapter 12: Hatred

"Black! Dammit," Beata hissed, trying to catch up with Sirius, who had disappeared behind the next turn just a second ago. "Padfoot!"

The guy slowed down and turned in surprise. "Sprinkles, I don't have time to explain again why you should admit that you're in love with me. I'm in a hurry."

"I noticed. Hell, I hoped you'd give me another chance," Beata sighed and then smirked at Sirius's skeptical face. "Last night, when I couldn't sleep-"

"Merlin! Spare me from describing your adventures!"

"I'm not Merlin, Black, although I think the guy was a hell of a himbo... What was I saying? Oh, I decided to look out the window-"

"There are no windows in the Slytherin dungeons."

"But there are doors through which you can go out into the hallway leading to the rooms where the windows are," Beata replied, rolling her eyes.

"So what?"

"I'm not the only one who wasn't sleeping tonight. A very suspicious dark figure ran from the changing rooms towards the castle with something like a broom."

Black's face cleared.

"But, judging by yells of your horned friend, this broom was his most precious, incomparable and unique broomstick, right?" Beata smiled innocently.

"Do you know where it is?" Black jumped to the Slytherin, grabbing her by the elbows. She automatically yanked her hands back and sharply raised her leg bent at knee. Poor Sirius doubled, slowly settling to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't calculate the power of the blow," Sprinkles' voice was sympathetic, but her eyes were frankly laughing. "I wanted to follow after that funny broom thief, but... Wow."

Sirius recovered and rose from the floor. Outside, braided with a charmingly-repulsive pink ribbon, James's broom floated in the air. Potter himself, loudly swearing and cursing, ran down the pitch and was already pulling out his wand, shouting Accio.

"I need to see this," predatory smile on Beata's face.

"Hey! Wait for me! Oh, what a..." Black staggered after the Slytherin, wincing from pain.

✨✨✨

"Why. Is it. Pink?!" James once again cursed at unknown, but obviously very creative personality.

Sprinkles, unceremoniously pushing through the crowd, whistled when she saw James's broom in a new guise. Snarky remark was ready to fly off her lips, but when she looked at James's face, she restrained herself with an incredible effort of will.

Lacquered handle and entire shaft of the broom were covered with small hearts and moving inscriptions. They glowed and crawled on each other forming phrases like "James Potter - my love", "James Potter, AB will never forget you", "It's impossible not to admire you, James!".

Pink ribbons lay on the ground, ruthlessly ripped off by the Gryffindor, uncontrollable in his rage. But suddenly screaming very humanly, bright scraps flew into the air and then again "attacked" the shaft, braiding it in every possible way. The iridescent lilac-pink twigs in the tail of dyed broom occasionally flinched and released small crimson bubbles with a persistent aroma of roses.

"I need a new broom!" James stormed to the center of a small circle, while his whole team and other casual spectators were looking at the shame and crushing fall of the Gryffindor king. "How can I show this to Slytherins? How?! Game is in ten minutes!"

Sirius kept looking at the broom, panic in his eyes mixed with gradually growing animal hatred.

Beata, unable to stand it anymore, burst out laughing, "Easy, guys. Even if you hide this masterpiece from my house, I will give them my memory for Pensieve. Learn how to lose!"