Oh God, Not Again! By Sarah1281

Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: Lacking a large extended family myself, I see the term 'X cousins' and can only fit them with my frame of reference for cousins (all first). I know that once you get to a certain point you're not even related but it's the calling of someone your family and wanting to be with them that I can't wrap my head around. I know other people believe differently, that's just why my personal stance is 'if you know how closely related you are to someone you are too closely related to date.' Because in my case that would be, at the most distant, second cousins.

That night passed quite peacefully as Draco wasn't actively trying to get Harry expelled and Harry didn't see any particular reason to go and wander about discovering what he already knew about the Philosopher's Stone. Of course, that might make it harder to explain to Ron and Hermione why he felt the need to go to the corridor on the third floor that Dumbledore had mentioned involved dying a horrible, painful death. Then again, he wasn't even sure if he should involve them. Last time, he hadn't had any choice because he wasn't capable of getting through there alone and his friends knew all about Voldemort and the stone anyway. This time, he was technically a legal adult and dragging two eleven-year-old children along with him to face Voldemort seemed highly irresponsible. Come to think of it, considering that Quirrell had no chance in hell of getting the stone from the mirror, did he even need to bother going down there? But if he didn't, would Quirrell return to teach the next year? While any teacher, even a possessed one, would be better than that pompous git Lockhart, having Voldemort at Hogwarts while his Horcrux was running around attacking people would probably be a very bad idea. Hm. He'd need to give this more thought.

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of the daily post. More specifically, by the two broom-shaped packages that required six owls each to lift. One broom went to Harry at the Gryffindor table, the other to Draco at the Slytherin. Harry raised his broom at Malfoy in a 'cheers' gesture, which the other boy returned.

Harry quickly scanned the card. "It's a good thing that Professor McGonagall warned me not to open this broomstick-shaped package at the table. After all, something that is shaped exactly in the form of a broom can be so many, many things," Harry muttered sarcastically. "What, does she think I'm stupid or something? Or, more accurately, everyone else?"

Ron glanced over at the card to see what he was talking about. "A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned. "I've never even touched one."

Well, at least now I know what to get him for Christmas, Harry thought wryly. He wondered briefly why he hadn't thought to do so the first time around. Sure, first years couldn't have there own brooms at Hogwarts, but nobody actually listened to that anyway. And if Ron complained, as he was wont to do, about accepting charity, Harry could simply point to the Weasley sweater he hoped to receive. After all, Molly had sent it to him because Ron told her that he wasn't expecting any presents and if that wasn't charity, what was? Not that he minded; he'd have done anything for some charity in his early years, particularly when he was still at the Dursely's.

After breakfast, Harry headed back to the Common Room alone as Ron had chosen to stay behind and confront Malfoy about the blatant favoritism (which really meant that Ron wished that the school would buy him his own broom) and was cornered by Hermione. "I suppose you think that this is a reward for breaking the rules?"

"No, I think that this is a reward for me being ridiculously good at Quidditch." Harry paused. "And because my parents were brutally murdered."

"You talk about that a lot," Hermione noted.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, so does everyone else. I'm just trying to keep up."

"I still can't believe that you were rewarded for risking your life!"