Gift

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Like Hermione, Harry hadn't been in a good mood lately.

There were two reasons for this. The first was that he still hadn't fully recovered from the Dementor attack.

The second was even more upsetting. After he passed out, his beloved Nimbus 2000 broomstick crashed uncontrollably into the Whomping Willow.

The poor broom had been shattered to pieces by the violent tree.

By the time Harry saw it, all that remained were fragments, broken into a dozen pieces.

This made Ron the unluckiest person at the moment. Despite it being Christmas, he had to comfort his two despondent friends constantly.

Most of the young wizards had been called home by their parents this Christmas.

After all, Hogwarts had recently experienced a terrifying Dementor attack, and the parents wanted to take this opportunity to see their children and ensure their safety.

There was a feast in front of Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

It was a Christmas present from Mrs. Weasley, including delicious mince pies, some Christmas pastries, and a box of crunchy peanut flakes.

Ron, however, didn't have time to enjoy the food. He scratched his neck uncomfortably, as his mother had sent him a scarlet hooded coat with a Gryffindor lion woven on the front.

The lining of the coat was itchy, making Ron scratch incessantly.

"Stop scratching, Ron! We're at the dinner table!" Hermione reminded him with a frown.

"I have some anti-itch ointment in my dormitory. Remind me to bring it to you when we return to the lounge."

Ron nodded, trying to restrain himself from scratching.

"Hey! Mr. White is here!" Harry suddenly alerted his friends nervously.

Only then did Ron and Hermione notice the eccentric professor approaching their table.

"What does he want?" Ron gasped, leaning back unconsciously, fearing he might suddenly go crazy again.

"Maybe he's just passing by," Hermione said, trying to reassure herself.

But things didn't go as she hoped. Sirius stopped beside them.

"Harry," Sirius called out expressionlessly, his eyes fixed on Harry's face.

"Yes, Professor White?" Harry asked cautiously.

"I heard your broom broke recently. This is my Christmas present for you." Sirius handed Harry a slender package.

"Thank you, Professor White," Harry stammered, surprised.

He hadn't expected Mr. White to bring him a Christmas gift.

Ron and Hermione stared at Sirius, equally shocked. They couldn't understand what the professor was up to.

Sirius stared at Harry's face as if he wanted to say something, but some invisible force seemed to stop him.

At the end, he nodded to Harry and returned to the professors' table.

"What did he give you?" Ron asked impatiently as soon as Sirius Black walked away.

"I'm not sure I should open it right here," Harry whispered.

"Open it, let's see!" Ron urged, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He was eager to know what the peculiar teaching assistant had given Harry.

"Open it, Harry," Hermione advised softly. "In case it's strange, the professors here can help us."

Hermione had begun to doubt the identity of the eccentric teaching assistant.

Seeing his friends' urging, Harry didn't hesitate. He put the package on the table and tore it open.

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of the package's contents.

A beautiful, sparkling broomstick lay in front of him.

"Oh my God!" Ron was the first to recognize it.

"It's a—it's a—" Ron was so excited he could hardly speak.

"It's a Firebolt!" he finally managed, his face alight with awe as he stared at the exquisite broomstick.

Harry's gaze fixed on the broom as well, his eyes widening.

Both Ron and Harry loved Quidditch, and before the school year had started, they had spent hours gazing longingly at the magnificent Firebolt in the window of the Diagon Alley broom shop.

Of course, Harry had never expected to own a Firebolt. The price was astronomical, beyond the reach of most wizards.

The number of Galleons needed to purchase a Firebolt could buy a house in Diagon Alley.

Yet now, Harry's once-distant dream was right in front of him.

The Firebolt was precisely like the one he had seen in the shop window.

Its entire body glistened, and the moment it emerged from the package, it floated in midair, perfectly positioned for Harry to grab.

The broom's handle was made of sleek ash wood, which was beautifully streamlined.

A golden serial number gleamed on the tail, signifying that each Firebolt was unique and further underscoring its extraordinary value.

"Harry, can I touch it?" Ron whispered in awe.

"Sure," Harry replied softly.

Ron wiped his hand on the corner of his robe, then carefully extended a finger to lightly tap the tip of the broom lightly, pulling his finger back quickly.

"My God! It's real!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry nodded excitedly, and the two giggled, entranced by the Firebolt.

Hermione couldn't stand their silly grins and gave them both a firm shoulder pat.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Harry asked, rubbing his shoulder where Hermione had patted him.

"Don't you think this is a little weird?" Hermione asked.

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione. "The only strange thing here is you!" he said.

"Shouldn't you be happy for Harry?"

"I didn't mean that!" Hermione snapped.

"It's a good broomstick, right?"

"Good?" Ron repeated incredulously.

"It's the best broomstick ever! There's nothing better!"

"Which means it's costly, right?" Hermione continued.

"Yeah," Harry said, still mesmerized by the broom. "Very, very expensive."

"Then the question is, why did Mr. White give Harry such an expensive broom?"

Hermione put her hands on her hips, looking seriously at her two friends. To her, this was just too strange.