Bloodline | Harry Potter x Reader [DISCONTINUED]

Third Year~Chapter Nine

Harry's POV

I knew that Hermione had meant well, but that didn't stop me being angry with her. I had been the owner of the best broom in the world for a few short hours, and now, because of her interference, I didn't know whether I would ever see it again. I 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?

At first, (Y/N) was extremely annoyed by Hermione's intervention and joined me and Ron in our frustration. However, after listening to Hermione's reasoning, I think she slowly began to understand her intentions. (Y/N) never tried arguing with me or Ron, though. She probably knew that we were too angry to listen to rationality.

Ron was furious with Hermione. 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. Ron and I supposed she had taken refuge in the library, and didn't try and persuade her to come back.

(Y/N) would disappear for long periods of time which told us that she was keeping Hermione company. All in all, we were glad when the rest of the school returned shortly after New Year, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy again.

Wood sought me 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,' I said 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,' I said.

'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,' I said gloomily. 'I haven't got it any more. It was confiscated.' And I explained all about how the Firebolt was now being checked for jinxes.

'Jinxed? How could it be jinxed?'

'Sirius Black,' I 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 lookout for him! How could he just walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies and buy a broomstick?'

'I know,' I said, 'but McGonagall still wants to strip it down –'

Wood went pale.

'I'll go and talk to her, Harry,' he promised. 'I'll make her see reason ... a Firebolt ... a real Firebolt, on our team ... she wants Gryffindor to win as much as we do ... I'll make her see sense ... a Firebolt ... '

~

Lessons started again next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours in the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for our enjoyment, and we spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing, while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching us palmistry, and she lost no time in informing me that I had the shortest life-lines she had ever seen.