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Tromed Love And The Great Broom Race | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:None Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 12 Summary: Look up in the sky! It's a bird...it's a plane...it's Harry and Ginny on the nicest broom ever to shake its dust in Voldemort's face. Hitcount: Story Total: 4395 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. |
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By Spenser Hemmingway “I'm racing against me. As long as I come across the finish, I'll be okay.”–Rueben Studdard “Uncle Spenser…please tell us a story,” the small red-haired boy pleaded. “You mean you want me to read you one?” I asked as I cleared away the pie plates (which the kids had literally licked clean). “I’m not all that great at telling them out loud.” “No…no! We want you to really tell us one…with all the funny sounds that you make when you read,” another Weasley boy joined in. “Oh yes, yes please! We want to hear another story about Mummy and Papa,” his cousin added. “We don’t even care if it’s not true…just like all your others.” “James Sirius Potter!” Harry yelled at his first-born. He was smiling however and saw that I was as well after the comment. “You know that almost all his stories about your mum and me are true…just a bit overstated. Hold on…that one about our visiting Las Vegas in America was pure tripe. Is Luna still angry with you about that Spense?” “We have had words. Most of them were hers, and very few of them can be repeated in front of the younglings. Kids, I think that I have just the story for you though. I swear this one is true, and I also promise that you will really love it. Harry, please, I just can’t resist a great audience.” “You mean a captive one, don’t you?” Ron said. He gently bounced his youngest child on his knee as the boy poked him with his toy wand. “We’re trapped here until the midwife sends word. Spenser, I still can’t believe that some Muggle husbands actually participate in the baby’s delivery.” “Muggle wives don’t hurl curses at them after five hours of hard labor. Harry…Ron, would you guys mind if I told them the story about Tromed Love?” Their surprised expressions immediately told me they didn’t. “What is Tromed Love Uncle Spenser?” Angus Weasley asked. The middle of Ron’s and Hermione’s three sons, he was the most like his inquisitive mother, and the least like his mischievous uncles and cousin. I still held out hope for him however. “Tromed Love was something very special to your Aunt Ginny and me,” Harry told the boy. He poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down at his large kitchen table. Despite the evening’s events I could tell that his mind and memories were working at full speed, but there was also the hint of a grin there as well. “So ahead and tell them about it. I don’t think that Book Seven is going to include it…unless she wants that as long as the fifth one.” “Yeah, well then…but you need to leave out the part about Hermione and the orange hippopotamus,” Ron said then, with just a little bit too much force to his voice. Angus, Arthur and James all converged on him whining in unison about his wanting to interfere with the complete story. Even tiny little Alastor was squealing his disapproval, poking his father even harder with the soft, rubber wand. It was all Harry and I could do to keep from laughing at the whole scene. Apparently, my new fans hated over-zealous editors as much as I did. “The peanut gallery has spoken good buddy.” …but I will leave the hippo out for you. No w all of you know, or will know after you read the last volume of Harry’s biography (I’m sure that it will be just as accurate as all my stories), that his seventh year at school was spent looking for Horcruxes. He had agreed to come back to Hogwarts only after being convinced that doing so would help him with his search and to prepare for his final battle with You-Know-Who. He had also received reluctant permission from Professor McGonagall to leave school grounds when needed to accomplish his work. I had come to school that year as an exchange student from America. This was arranged partly to help demonstrate that the school had to be safe if a foreign visitor had been invited. Although I wasn’t sorted to a house, I was able to live in the Gryffindor Tower, which, because of the war, had a great deal of extra space that year. It seemed that the publicity campaigns that were undertaken were only marginally successful in attracting the crowds back. The reason that I mention this is because it afforded Harry and Ron the opportunity to use one of the empty Gryffindor dormitory rooms for something completely different. In the smallest sleeping quarters, at the highest point in the tower, they set up a workshop. Three of the four-poster beds were transformed into large workbenches with specially designed support structures. The wardrobes were used to store all manner of tools that Mr. Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and certain resident elves found for them. Ginny, Hermione and Luna placed silencing charms and protective spells on the room as well to ensure privacy, security and a level of protection for the tower if something went wrong. It was really quite a piece of work, and when it was complete, it was the equal of anything like it in England. It was something that they had all talked about doing for years. The shop was a place that, if utilized as they intended, could bring a little something good to the school. Maybe it would also provide Harry and everyone with an outlet to maintain some sanity during that trying year. Now what was the workshop to be used for you ask…as well you might? It is no mystery that Harry, Ron and Ginny enjoyed few things as much flying, and if it involved playing Quidditch, then so much the better. I didn’t play the game, but Luna and I were still as avid broom-jockeys as the others. None of us owned anything as nice as Harry’s Firebolt, and therefore depended on the school’s supply of less-than-wonderful, but more-than-old brooms. This wasn’t something that was lost on him. As fast as Harry’s broom was, he was always tinkering with the branch weave, the stick finish and the grip location. He was essentially trying to take a perfect broom and make it more perfect. The purpose of the workshop was to build a new broom from scratch–-one that was as close of an ideal match to its owner as a wand might be considered. Please don’t get me wrong here. Harry knew his priorities, which in order were Ginny, defeating What’s-His-Smell, finishing school and only then his developing love of broomcraft. The thing was, none of these were mutually exclusive, and I honestly believe that the diversion of flying helped keep Harry’s head in the game. If, in the process, we ended up with a work of art, who was I to complain? “ Harry? Oh, there you are,” Luna said rushing in through the portal to the Common Room. “Hello everyone. Spenser, have you had the chance to finish looking at that picture book I found about mythical beasts? I really should get it to Daddy soon.” “Luna, American bison are not mythical. I’ve actually seen a small herd of them when I was in Kansas,” I told her. I couldn’t help smiling at my friend. Opinions like this were one of the reasons that we had gotten along so well from the moment we met. I really enjoyed exposing her to the Muggle world, and the resulting expressions of either absolute fascination or profound disbelief. It was also why I had the totally harebrained idea back then that she should date Neville Longbottom, who was her exact opposite in most ways. The two might end up complimenting each other somehow. “Oh Spenser…you really are so hilarious sometimes. I suppose that you are going to tell me now that the bison, or buffalo as they are called, really have wings.” “What…no, Buffalo wings are named after the city, and…no never mind. Luna, tell me something. You know that you are always welcome here in the Gryffindor Tower, as my guest if no one else’s, but how do you keep learning the password?” “That is very easy. I ask the Fat Lady very nicely, and she gives it to me. She really is a pleasant person, and we have the most wonderful discussions,” she said. “She what?” Ron blurted out, coming up off the sofa and upsetting the textbooks he was sharing with Hermione. “Um…yes Luna. Maybe we should keep that quiet for now. You were looking for me?” Harry asked then. “Professor McGonagall is. She would like to speak to all of you…and Neville as well. Could someone tell him for me? We aren’t speaking.” “What…why not?” I asked. Everyone had an embarrassed look suddenly, telling me that I was the last to know something. “He’s down in greenhouse four with the Herbology Club. The phoenix poppies are going to explode sometime today,” Hermione told everyone. “I’m sure that the headmistress will understand.” “Have we done anything wrong Luna?” Ginny asked her as she assembled her own pile of books on the table. “I’m sure that you haven’t. This will be something wonderful I’m certain. Yes Spenser, I am fine, but thank you for asking.” I hadn’t. She had the strangest habit of doing that whenever we were together. Anyway, despite Luna’s words, I could see that Harry had an uneasy look as he led us out of the house and toward McGonagall’s office. Ginny noticed this as well, and risked being seen with him when she took his hand for a few moments. That brought a smile, but he quickly released it again as we approached the first staircase. They both understood that measures had to be taken to protect her, including keeping their relationship a secret for as long as possible. At the entrance to the spiral staircase, Hermione and Ginny (who both had excellent voices) gave the current passwords, which were the lyrics to Hail Britannia. Luna took the lead now, brought us into the office proper, and presented us to a very agitated Professor McGonagall. From the smile, it was obviously happy agitation. Everyone relaxed. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley…everyone, thank you for coming so promptly. I trust that you are all well.” The professor was a great lady, especially for a teacher, but the smile just seemed completely out of place that day. Looking at the others, who knew her much better than I did, it was evident that this was an extremely surprising mood for her. Harry later told me that it reminded him of the day she had selected him to be the Gryffindor Seeker his first year. “Harry, if you were provided with the proper resources and assistance, would you be able, in your spare time, to produce a new racing broom by this spring?” La ter that evening in the new workshop, the mood was intensely quiet for quite a while. Hermione and Ron both had hesitant looks, Harry was deep in thought, Ginny and Luna had expressions voicing their unbridled support, and me…I’m told that I seemed to be amused about the whole thing. I suppose that I was. Here was the opportunity to produce something really great to fly, assemble the material for this story, and, as I’ve mentioned, get everyone’s minds off the Horcrux hunt for a little while each day. “Harry, you realize that you will be competing against world-class broomsmiths. You’ve never built one before, and, despite this wonderful shop, it will be a colossal undertaking,” Hermione finally said. Harry didn’t even blink. “Harry…what about Voldemort?” Ron sensibly asked. “If we're working on this…” “No Ron,” Ginny told her brother…all of us in fact. “Harry needs this. You saw how he was after Dumbledore died. He needs some connection to the normal world, just as everyone does now. Professor McGonagall is right. By doing this for the school we are helping to promote some semblance of that normalcy that we are fighting to preserve. We are mocking the Death Eaters, telling them that they cannot stop us from living our lives. Harry…we can build a great broom, and I think that we must at least try.” All of us just stared at her in stunned silence after such a speech. Where had that come from, we all thought. We also knew that she was right…right as rain. Harry walked over to her and gave her a hug that lasted for more than a couple of minutes. We were all convinced now, but that didn’t mean that it was going to be any easier. Harry finally pulled away from her, but they exchanged a smile and a look that lasted for a bit longer. “Right! Now here is what I had in mind,” he began, grabbing a large sheet of paper and a charcoal pencil. “I got the idea thinking about Buckbeak. If we do this and this we can boost the speed by fifteen percent, but more importantly increase stability on rapid turns. Luna would you mind if I asked Neville for his help getting me some Labrous Thatch for the tail? Great! Spenser how quickly could you get some Oregon myrtlewood sent over?” “Worst case scenario…three days,” I told him. “Fantastic everyone! We’re off to a fine start. We just need one more thing tonight,” Harry said. “The name of a good broomwax distributor?” Ron asked. “No…several gallons of black coffee. Tomorrow is Sunday, and we should have a rough draft of the plans completed before we return to our studies.” M y stories alone will demonstrate how busy the next five months were, even without the broom project. We approached it just as we had discussed that first night–-as something that kept us grounded (no pun intended). Slowly it began to take shape, and it really was a beauty that made the Firebolt pale in comparison. Hermione researched a number of historical designs, which Luna converted into a composite drawing with that of the hippogriff. Neville wasn’t able to provide the thatch immediately, but, with Professor Sprout’s permission, began to cultivate some in one of the Herbology greenhouses. He declined any other requests for assistance, telling us that he was far too busy. I discovered that it was really because of the silly/stupid argument he had had with Luna. Ron mostly worked with the wood that had come from southern Oregon, while Harry researched the appropriate broom charms with Professor Flitwick and Ginny. My contributions were mostly on the logistics side, coming up with the best supplies, technical advice, and that endless stream of coffee and pekoe tea. Oh yes, I also got to sweep the shop using a non-magic cousin to our baby. In the third month, we began to actually cut the broom’s shape from the myrtlewood. This was certainly the slowest part of the work, and something that Ron wouldn’t accept any help in doing. Harry however did take considerable time with scrap wood, teaching himself to mimic his best friend’s techniques. Patience and ten days’ work provided us with a highly unusual base-stick with a pronounced dip in the nose, six-inch dimples behind the grip and increased girth beginning where the tail branches were to be attached. While Ginny and Luna undertook the task of applying the five coats of magical varnish, Harry and Hermione began the job of harvesting the best Labrous Thatch. Neville had not unexpectedly done a brilliant job in cultivating the strong, slender shrubbery. He also took the time to work with us one afternoon in gathering what they agreed to be the best of it. We spent more than a few hours stripping and braiding it in the Common Room while Hermione tutored us in our schoolwork, or carefully updated us on her Horcrux research. The most unusual thing about the broom’s design, even more so than its nose, was the manner in which we attached those branches. Looking at it on-end, it actually was more triangular than round in form. As one rode the broom, the larger side of that triangle formed a sturdy base that channeled its lift, provided the stability we wanted and at the same time gave us an excellent forward momentum. The final week before the test run was spent with all of us repeatedly walking about the broom, examining it until our eyes hurt and coming up with all manner of suggestions to improve it. For the most part, these were immediately discarded, and those that we did follow up on were merely cosmetic. Harry and Ron (with a little help) had built the perfect broom. A bunch of school kids had done it. Even if we didn’t win the contest’s culminating race, we could at least brag about what Hogwarts had accomplished in the middle of a war. Our only regret was that it hadn’t been completed in time for the open house that the Ministry had forced on the school the previous weekend. The morning of the tryout found us stumbling down the staircase, awake only because of long showers and the promise of coffee in the Common Room. Unfortunately, someone had beaten us to it. The entire house, the headmistress and Hagrid as well were waiting as we carried the broom in. Luna rushed over and surprised me with a hug, and I was very pleased that none of the Gryffindors, not even Neville, objected to having the Ravenclaw there. This project belonged to the entire school, not just to the one house. As we marched toward the Quidditch field, the parade grew in size until it included a large percentage of the remaining students. We didn’t even mind the few Slytherins that joined us, since, for once, even they were placing school pride before personal. All that was missing was the…nope there was the brass band, already pumping out Hogwarts Forever. We were extremely fortunate to have another beautiful spring day. All the grounds were now in full bloom, and there was not a cloud to be seen. There was a slight breeze from the northeast, which, with the already warming temperature, promised to remove the morning dew in quick order. “Well Harry, I don’t suppose that you’d let me test her out first?” I said jokingly. “I am a lot more expendable when it crashes into the lake.” He gave me an over-dramatic look of being offended at my question, but then a quick grin as well before mounting the broom. A moment later he was airborne, but two heartbeats after that he was wishing that he had taken me up on my offer. The broom suddenly began a series of uncontrolled rolls, and then nosedived toward the ground. At the last possible second, Harry threw himself off and hit the grass field hard, rolling with the momentum. A small group of us rushed over to him, while McGonagall raised her voice to demand calm. Harry seemed to have broken his shoulder, but he was obviously more concerned about the condition of the broom. Ron came running up with it, demonstrating that it was still intact, and causing relief to wash over his Harry’s face. Helping him to his feet, we took him and the broom over to one of the storage sheds, while Luna ran to find Madame Pomfrey. Outside we could hear the student body split between cheering Harry’s effort, and jeering the supposed failure. After five minutes, the headmistress entered followed closely by the Healer and Professor Flitwick, who bypassed all of us in favor of the broom that was leaning in the corner. Placing it on the ground, he drew his wand and without a discernable word, tapped it, causing it to glow with a bright blue shimmer. He stepped away but continued to hold his wand on the broom. Mumbling another spell that we could barely hear, the light turned to a yellow-green hue before disappearing completely in a flash. “It was just as I suspected,” he said. “The broom had been cursed. It was a simple spell, but highly effective as you have seen Mr. Potter. I have completely removed it, and, if someone cares to proceed with your test, I can assure you that it is quite safe now.” “Like I said Harry, I’m the expendable one,” I told him in a more serious tone this time. “Hey mate, I’m every bit as good as you are,” Ron said, “…but we might want to hold off until we can figure out who did it. I thought that we had some good protection on the workshop.” Outside, the crowd continued to chant their support, which caused us to pause and listen for a moment. “Actually Mr. Weasley, the spell could have been placed on any of the building materials before they even entered your work area,” Professor Flitwick pointed out. “It would be a simple matter for them to take hold of the entire broom then.” “That makes more sense than anything. No need questioning who would want us to fail here today. Even if it is just a delay, score one for the Death Eaters. Ginny…no!” Before the words were even out of Harry’s mouth, Ginny was in the air, ducking down as it sped out the door. We emerged from the shed to see her buzz the crowd, eliciting a tremendous roar from them. She shot out in the direction of the castle, and taking a turn around several of the towers, demonstrated to those few left back there what Harry’s broom could do. Returning to the field, she flew back and forth, executing a number of very difficult maneuvers that made Harry as proud as he was scared for her. Ron looked as if he was about to faint, evidently already composing the letter, telling his parents of Ginny’s fatal crash. You had to admit that the show was impressive. I had never seen a broom that could stop so suddenly only to shoot off in another direction without losing its rider. Suddenly getting one of my crazy ideas, I rushed back into the shed and retrieved a training Quaffle that was stored there. A number of flabbergasted expressions greeted me when I ran onto the field and tossed it to Ginny as she passed overhead. The school exploded in cheers when she then zoomed down to the far end in the blink of an eye and placed the Quaffle through the goal before making a dramatic upward turn. At about a thousand feet, she stalled the broom and caused it to nosedive once more in our direction. Our new-found confidence in her (no one dove out of the way) was rewarded when she pulled up, leapt off and ran the last couple steps to Harry who hugged her with his good arm. “I have our name for it Harry. Tromed Love. Score one for Hogwarts!” she yelled. The audience goes wild! At least it goes as wild as four tiny children can. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the story, and I didn’t even need to embellish as Harry had suggested I did on rare occasions…sometimes…now and then…okay, okay, constantly. Jeez! The mood was much more relaxed now at any rate, which was a good thing. Harry’s oversized kitchen had basically been turned into a maternity waiting room that evening. At dinner, the tension could have been cut with a dull wand, but the exciting adventure that I was retelling had calmed things down a bit. That was until Molly Weasley arrived by Floo a moment later with my little boy Nicholas. Everyone leapt from their seats and rushed over to her, frustrated that she was taking the time to clean the soot off my son before delivering any news. Finally, she released her grip on the six-year-old and turned to study Ron’s frantic expression with a mischievous look of her own. So that was where Fred and George got it. “Mum what is it? Is Hermione all right?” “She is exhausted…and with good reason. Ron, the Weasley curse apparently has been lifted…royally. You have three beautiful girls…triplets.” “Three…” It is to Ron’s everlasting credit that he did not faint there. “I’ve…I’ve got to go see them. Hermione…” “…is sleeping. You can force yourself to wait a while longer,” his mother told him. “Harry, Spenser…you may want to hold off visiting as well for now. The girls were both trying to kill the attending midwife, and cursing…literally…the paint off the walls. It shall not be long now regardless.” “Nana…why are all of the babies coming tonight,” little Angus asked her. “My dear, there are a great number of magical mysteries concerning certain births in our family,” his grandmother started to explain. “It could have been that cold, stormy night nine months ago when we were all snowbound in the mountains,” Ron muttered, apparently to himself, and too much in shock still to comprehend that it had actually been said aloud. “Ronald Weasley!” Molly yelled then. His head snapped up with the realization of what he had said. “He means, that was the evening that the storks got together at their union hall, and they decided that tonight would be the very best one to schedule the deliveries,” Harry quickly blurted out. “Ohhh,” the children collectively said. “Nice save Harry. Now we had better get back to my story.” The next ten days saw Harry’s shoulder mending quite nicely, and him…all of us really…trying out the new broom. The upcoming race was actually more of an endurance contest than a speed event. We were putting Tromed Love through every manner of testing we could think of, not knowing in advance what was in store. We did understand that there would be three challenges the broom would have to face that night, and that six teams had submitted entries thus far. No one believed for a moment that such a high-profile event would avoid the attention of Voldemort, and since someone had already tried once to put us out of the running, we had to expect Death Eater activity there. Harry had reluctantly agreed to allow the Order to provide him with additional albeit discreet protection, and that only Ron and I would be going with him. Ginny had naturally blown up at Harry about this, but finally saw that her being there with him then would have been a blatant declaration of their relationship. Knowing that I was absolutely worthless in a wand duel, Ron had also seen the wisdom in my being the one in the air as Harry’s race support, while he watched his back from the ground. My role was mostly to observe, take mental notes on the broom’s performance and to pull Harry to safety if the thing was about to get him killed. I didn’t see that happening now, especially after the extremely rigorous flight that I put Tromed Love through during my turn with it. It was the final Friday in April when word came by owl courier regarding the time and exact conditions of the race. We had just finished an especially good meal of roast beast and were lounging about the Great Hall waiting for what Dobby had promised would be an exceptional carrot cake. Ron and Hermione were naturally arguing again (this time about the ethics of weather manipulation spells), Harry and Ginny were pretending to ignore each other in front of the assembled crowd, and I was once again trying to teach Luna about the joys of draw poker. When the owl deposited the scroll, not one of us at first made any effort to pick it up. I think that we were all a bit worried that the whole thing would suddenly become quite anticlimactic. Professor McGonagall however, somehow knowing what it was, made a beeline to our table and insisted that we read it aloud. Harry broke the seal, scanned it carefully, and seemed to be amazed at what he saw. A moment later he handed it to the headmistress, who had a similar reaction upon reading it. “I see. Mr. Potter…Harry, it appears that you will have a very difficult evening ahead of you tomorrow. The first test will be one of simple speed. You will depart the city of Glasgow at precisely midnight and proceed to the first checkpoint in Northern England…the Harquart Caverns to be exact. Your second task will be to navigate a pre-selected route through those caves…in complete darkness and without losing the support broom accompanying you. This labyrinth would be challenging…dangerous during the best of times, but far more so under these conditions. “The third and final task is the one that concerns me the most. From the second checkpoint, you will fly to the city of Trumsquill on the North Sea. En route you will be set upon by all manner of hostile attacks–-simulated I would hope. You must evade or defeat them in the air, while at the same time reaching the finish line in the fastest time. “I…did not know about all this. I will understand completely if you feel that this is too dangerous under the circumstances. Even with members of the Order of the Phoenix there to watch over you…Mr. Weasley and Mr. Hemmingway as well…there is a great possibility that the Death Eaters may use this opportunity to cause you great harm.” This last part she said in a quieter, more deliberate voice. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Harry responded in an equally serious manner. Sun down that next night found us outside the main gate of Hogwarts preparing to Apparate into the city. Professor McGonagall, Hagrid and the girls had all come to see us off and to wish Harry luck. Hagrid was almost bouncing in the air with pride at what we had done and were about to attempt. Seismographs in all of Great Britain would record the event. Despite being left behind, Ginny was all smiles as well, and didn’t seem to care if anyone saw her with her arms around Harry at that moment. Once again Luna gave me a very unexpected hug, and it left me feeling both very good and somewhat confused about her. Of course, confusion being my normal state anyway, I didn’t care one bit. Still, once again I resolved that we had to have a very long talk. Hermione was actually the one for whom I felt sorry. She was, at best, a fair-weather flyer, and at the moment appeared to feel completely left out. Ron, bless his heart, did take the time to remind her how much she had really contributed to Tromed Love’s construction. He made another quiet joke and was able to draw out one of Hermione’s great smiles. He then gave her a nice kiss, before joining Harry and me as we Disapparated away to Glasgow. I must admit that all of us had been expecting some manner of Wizard news coverage when we arrived, but this made the term media zoo seem like the ultimate understatement. The starting line was in a large field that overlooked the actual city. The torches that ringed it illuminated a crowd of reporters and photographers that made a celebrity murder trial seem like a kid’s birthday party. Naturally, when they spotted Harry it was as if the floodgate had been opened. Ron and I both grabbed one of his arms and ran all out for the safety of the Ministry security line. Their drawn wands left the media with no doubt that they meant business there that night. The questions would have to wait. Shouldering Harry’s Firebolt, I followed him over to the platform where the race officials had begun to brief the teams. Looking them over, neither Harry nor I recognized anyone, but Ron was able to point out a pair that supposedly played on the Belgian Quidditch team. The other brooms varied greatly. One was exceedingly long with its tail resembling a tumbleweed more than a sweeping implement. Another much shorter broom seemed to have glowing silver twigs attached with barbed wire, and a third one had tail branches running almost its entire length. The teams themselves varied almost as much–-from the professional competence of the Quidditch players to two ferret-faced teenagers brandishing the most ill-constructed broom any of us had ever seen. None of them seemed to be Death Eaters, but then I wasn’t aware of any mandatory appearance standards. It wasn’t as if they were required to dress in black, have shifty eyes, a diabolical laugh while doing their evil and an entourage throwing wilted rose petals in their path. After being briefed on the rules, the route, and the need for good sportsmanship, Harry and I were escorted to the starting point where the test brooms were lined up approximately ten yards apart from each other. The support personnel were permitted to be aloft prior to the starting whistle, so the three of us separated then. Ron Disapparated ahead to the checkpoint to wait and watch. Once in position, I gave Harry a wave, but before he could return it, there was the signal. They were off. Off was the correct word in two cases. One extremely heavy-looking black broom immediately burst into flames. Fortunately, the rider, a tall bearded gentleman, was able to get clear without injury. The teenager with the oddball broom was not as fortunate. His broom shot straight up about thirty yards before literally falling apart under him. The last thing I saw before I went after Harry was the guy hitting the ground pretty hard. Four brooms were left. I had this idea in my head that some of the crowd back there must have thought that Harry’s participation was some form of Ministry publicity stunt. The fact of the matter was that we were all extremely relieved that, other than the security contribution, the government hadn’t made an appearance yet. All doubts about our legitimacy had to vanish though when they saw what Tromed Love was doing. Harry was out-flying a Firebolt, and he was well ahead of all but one of the contestants. Harry’s broom, at least the one that I was using, was one of the finest brooms produced in the world…mass-produced that is. Even a Ferrari might have trouble keeping pace with a Formula One race car however. I wrapped myself about the Firebolt the way that I saw Harry doing with the other broom and poured every ounce of concentration into trying to keep up with him. Two of the teams had wasted effort on trying to gain altitude before moving cross-country, but Harry and the other broom (with which he had caught up) were flying map-of-the-earth. It was an exceptionally useful technique for a skilled flyer. We had a new moon that night, which added to the difficulty of flying but also to the protection from Muggle eyes as we traveled. The ground rolled somewhat, and it was lightly wooded below us. It would not be the best place to go down on a faulty broom. I took the trouble to acquire a position a bit above the two leaders and was joined there by one of my counterparts. This put us further behind the racers, but with an advantage if we had to dive to their rescue. An hour’s flight brought us to a much rockier area of treeless hills and valleys. We were fast approaching the straightaway for the first phase. If it was possible, Harry had pulled himself in even tighter to Tromed Love, placing the side of his face right against the stick. I could barely make it out in the distance, but it almost looked as if he risked a quick grin to his co-leader. At that, he darted away from him (and us), and then passed through the marking hoop a full two seconds ahead. We had made an excellent start. “Har ry…that was bloody brilliant!” Ron howled as he ran…flew over to Harry. “It really was! I have to say it! Ron mate, we have built a broom for the ages!” “I could barely see your dust there at the end Harry,” I told him as I brought the other broom to a landing beside them. “If we do that well during the other legs, we have another trophy with your names on it. Hey, here comes another broom, but where is the last one?” We joined the crowd gathering around the third team and learned that something had knocked the last broom out of the sky twenty minutes earlier. His support flyer had saved him at the last second, and they were still limping in behind us. Ron motioned for us to follow him behind one of the tents, then he handed Harry a parchment with the contest insignia at the top. “It’s the map of the route through the cavern Harry. You have ten minutes to study it. Neither of you will be allowed to use a Lumos Spell either. You will need to know how long and in which direction a section will be, fly along it as fast as you can, but staying together through the thing. It sounds flippin’ impossible.” “Then why are you smiling Ron?” Harry asked with a grin of his own. “Harry, did I ever tell you about my Great Uncle Buster? He served in the Royal Navy during the war. The man could find Muggle submarines as if he was using magic…he was. I think I might have a spell you can use,” Ron said. Harry rolled the map out on a crate and he and I started reciting the distances and direction changes. Fortunately, as severe as some of them appeared to be, they weren’t that many of them. The purpose of the challenge was crystal clear. Harry would be tested on his control of the broom regarding reduced speeds, synchronized flying with a second broom, control while following a tight passage, and naturally the task measured the amount of literally blind faith he had in Tromed Love. “Harry, there’s something else. I talked to Tonks before you two arrived,” Ron whispered. “She said that there is no way for either the Order, or the Ministry guards to follow any of you through there. It looks like that other poor bloke might have met up with something other than a bad broom as well.” “Blast! The one time that I don’t mind having them around. Where are they now?” Harry asked. Ron just grinned again, and then waved his hand in the direction of a herd of Guernsey cows. Harry and my jaws just dropped. The Order of the Phoenix had truly mastered the art of disguise and camouflage. Confident (somewhat) that we knew our way through the cave, we turned our attention to learning the spell that Ron suggested. The wording was simple enough, Bounecko, but the wand motion would have been a challenge for even Hermione. We were still practicing it as we walked to the starting line to begin our groping in the dark. Having won the previous challenge, we would set out first, followed five minutes later by the Belgians and five minutes after them by the final team. We were down to half of the original participants after only one event, and we could see that the others were aware of this as well. In a way, this part of the race was the more dangerous, even compared to the final gauntlet we would run. Inside, we would be cut off from all outside security, support, and our supply of bandages. “Are you ready Spense?” Harry asked as we mounted our brooms. “Born ready partner. Let’s mail a card home to mother, feed the hounds and light a shuck for the other side!” “What?” “Sorry…I keep forgetting–-Americanisms.” At the whistle, we flew straight into the cavern entrance, pulling up to a stop as soon as we were out of sight. It had been a small ploy to faze the other teams, and to make them believe that we knew what we were doing. Yeah right! Our first attempt with the spell was unsuccessful, so we had to trust that sixty feet inside we would take a downward dive, and that the shaft would curve to the left. Harry, naturally, was fearless, and he led off for us. I hadn’t been that scared since I let Luna read one of my stories for the first time. Once again I found religion, even after the tunnel leveled and emerged into a large chamber. Harry called out for us to stop again, and an arm on my shoulder gave me his location relative to my own. “Bounecko!” Harry once again tried, only this time it seemed to work. In our minds, we were given the vision of a shimmering wave going out, bouncing off the walls like a Muggle SONAR, and then giving us a clear vision of where we needed to travel. We began to move again, this time at a more rapid pace thanks to our increased confidence. Three more twisting passages, and several applications of the spell, brought us to another large chamber where we agreed to take a couple minutes to catch our breath. We were fairly certain that Ron’s uncle’s spell was not all that common, and we began to imagine what the others were going through. Hopefully, it was the cavern…and safely. “What do you think Harry? Is this as bad as the Tri-Wizard Competition?” “Not really. The broom is performing brilliantly. I’m glad that Ginny and I took it out to pace its speed over a measured distance.” “I wish that I had,” I said. Then, after a moment, “Harry, would you have preferred to have Ginny, or even Ron here with you instead of me?” “Yes, I would have, and I’m sorry. Ginny and I are in each other’s minds sometimes. I really do love her you know…well of course you do, you keep writing about us.” “Guilty…and no apologies.” “Ron…well he is my best mate. He, Hermione, and I have been through so many scrapes together over the years. I really do trust you Spenser, but Ron has earned the right to be on my left when Ginny can’t be.” His voiced trailed off as if he was trying to compose some other words for me. “Harry…no problem. I know that I am here just to write about the race, and to free up Ron to help protect us. It’s been a wild, wild ride this year. I got to spend some time with all of you, and I've put together some good stuff. I just hope that Hermione and I can be real friends before I go home next month.” “What? What do you mean? No wait…of course you would want to return home after graduation wouldn’t you. What about Luna though?” He suddenly sounded extremely discomforted for some reason. “Huh…what do you mean about Luna? Hey wait. What was that?” We both became quiet, listening in the dark. There was a distinct series of explosions back up the passageway. “Harry, Hermione told me that you blew the lead during the second event of the Tri-Wizard because you stopped to save Fleur’s sister. Would someone know you well enough back there to be setting you up.” “You have my left now Spenser,” he said before reciting the SONAR spell again and leading us back the way we had come. We emerged from the cavern slowly, carefully levitating the Belgians in front of us as we flew along. We never did find out how they had managed to come so far through the caves without either light or our spell. The question was immaterial at the moment since they were both badly injured, and it wasn’t from slamming into a rock wall. The racer and his support flyer both had nasty, albeit non-lethal magical blast marks on their backs. The assailant had been inside, was somehow able to make magical shots in the dark, and, for some reason, had not made any attempt on Harry or my lives. The third team had legitimately crashed their brooms in one of the first passages. We were the only remaining team. “Harry, you have nothing to prove now,” Ron loudly told him. Five teams had been eliminated in two and a half hours. It made Harry’s encounter with a Hungarian Hornback seem statistically safe. Ron was excitedly concerned…scared for Harry. I could have easily called him Hermione just then if I wanted to spend some more time in a full-body cast. “Ron’s right Harry,” Tonks said in a softer voice from inside the cow costume. She had earlier threatened us with warts, boils and vodka-class hangovers if we ever told Remus about that bovine outfit. Alastor Moody beat us to it later. “No…whoever is sabotaging the competition will succeed if at least one of us doesn’t finish,” Harry said. “This is just like the London Blitz. They want to sew terror. They want us to be so afraid of attempting to do anything like this…of doing anything…that Voldemort will have his way in our world. Spenser, you may want to pull out though. It could bring America into the war if something were to happen.” He was looking at me, but he had just given Ron a quick glance. I wasn’t sure if he noticed I had seen it. “Harry, we are in this war already, and even if the United States wasn’t…I am,” I forcefully told him. I knew he meant the question to be a sideways apology…a demonstration for Ron and Tonks that I did belong with all of them. A lot of things were welling up inside me then, not the least of which was the friendship that I felt for Ron and Harry. I had no idea then why I said what I did next. “If either of you bring up Luna again, I will knock you on your tail. She and...she and…I mean…oh feldercarb!” It just hit me then. “Oh feldercarb forever. They know about Ginny and Harry!” The third and final whistle blew, and Tromed Love flew off as if it actually had some competition. All that we had to do was complete that leg and we were done. It was more than a little bittersweet, since we all knew that we would already be taking the trophy because the contestants had been deliberately eliminated, as opposed to their losing fairly. This wasn’t the hardest, but it was now the scariest leg for me, and we were determined that it would be the fastest. Actually, what frightened me the most was the number of brooms with reporters and Wizard cameras on them as we flew by. The first obstacle was a set of rubber owls launched at us, which seemed extremely lame compared to what we had seen. I watched as our racing broom did an expert swirl around them, almost laughing in its wake as it went. Next came flying buzz saws, fireballs, invisible bursts of hot air and a couple eager Witches trying to sell him life insurance as he flew by. He kept it slow enough for me to pull up beside him then. I nodded when he motioned that we should speed up our progress. Once again, we flew close to the ground, and in two different cases I saw how we were evading the contest obstacles with our strategy. With the war, this part of the competition was meant to be very practical. How would the broom perform when someone was trying to destroy it? “Spenser…dive now!!” Great call! I did a series of tight rolls and dives, and I saw Tromed Love matching my effort. This was not a simulation. We had been expecting it and here it was. Death Eaters on brooms themselves, and they were all out to get Harry. There were several of them there, and I couldn’t see protection from the Ministry or the cows anywhere. “Feldercarb! Dementors!” Confound it! He beat me to my nonsense curse before I could use it again in this story. The simple fact of the matter was that we were under attack again by something as bad as American lite beer. I had never encountered dementors before, and, if I had half of a brain, I would have run away like a three-year-old at the sight of cauliflower. I took a series of spins with the Firebolt that should have eluded a Muggle fighter jet. No luck…and I knew what he was going to suggest. “Has anyone ever tried a patronus in the air before? I called out. “Maybe. First time for everything,” he yelled back. Profe ssor McGonagall poured each of the three girls another cup of hot tea, and then renewed her pacing about Hagrid’s hut. They had convinced the headmistress that she may as well let them wait with her, since they would only risk detention anyway by sneaking out of their dormitories. She had pretended to be very upset about their attitudes, but, in reality, she was exceedingly glad for their company at the moment. The risks were still very high for Harry. “Oh no! Something has happened to Ron!” Hermione suddenly screamed, stopping then to support herself on the fire’s mantelpiece. Ginny rushed over to her, not even asking how she could know such a thing. Hagrid stood in the doorway of his hut with an armful of wood, frozen at the girl’s words. His expression immediately caught Ginny’s attention. She also saw that Luna did not seem to notice Hermione’s outburst. She merely continued to try and knit…disastrously. Her one friend’s calm settled Ginny as much as Hagrid’s and Hermione’s disheveled her nerves. Something was wrong…there. “Well now…is everythin’ all proper ‘ere?” Hagrid asked. Ginny noticed that he never once looked at either of them as he spoke. He then did the most unexpected thing. He drew a wand and pointed it at all three girls in turn. “I strongly suggest that you put that down,” Luna said, not looking up from the wild tangle of yarn she had produced. “My boyfriend has a very bad temper where I am concerned.” She then stood up to face the giant. “Harry Potter is coming to see you as well.” That got Ginny and Hermione’s attention. Yes, Expecto Patronum does work in the air, but dementors aside, we were still being set upon by a large number of bad guys on their own brooms. Fortunately, we had the best of the lot there. Tromed Love was weaving in and out among them as a Muggle sewing machine needle might. In the far distance, we could see a bright glow in the sky, and knew that the finish line…everyone there…was under serious attack. Our own spell bolts, fired at the now massed Death Eaters, bounced off some bubble around them like laser beams off a starship’s shields. We finally decided that fighting was out of the question. We needed to see if these two brooms were anywhere close to what we had touted them to be. Somewhere…not too far ahead…was our protective wing, hopefully out of the cow costumes. It was time to make a run for them. One particular Death Eater seemed to sense our intent immediately, and he then motioned for the rest of them to move between us and our goal. We were essentially cut off, but we knew who the chief bad guy was now. I was out of ideas, but someone wasn’t. “Cover me Spense and get ready! I’m sorry! I’m really sorry for this!” With that, he appeared to be doing something similar to revving a motorcycle in a street race. All at once he threw himself off in a backwards flip as he simultaneously fired the broom like a missile toward the assembled Death Eaters. As I passed below, allowing him to grab onto the Firebolt, he cast a spell at the retreating broom. Just as it reached them, it exploded in a burst that Hollywood should have copied. Four Death Eaters fell to the ground, along with (unfortunately) the remains of Tromed Love. Naturally, this is the point where the cavalry finally arrived, led by Tonks on a beautiful Starblaster XL broom. “You are all very funny. How did you know Lovegood?” “Fang growled at you. Is that why you gave him the sleeping potion? The question is…how did you know that Harry and Ginny were together again.” The other girls just stared at Luna in misbelieve. “It was about as obvious as ugly on a troll.” The man began to shrink, and his forehead shrivel a little. He reached up and pulled off a voice-mimicking disk from his throat. The Polyjuice Potion was wearing off. The Dark Lord commends you on your efforts, but they were completely ineffectual.” “Who are you?” Ginny asked then. “Garfield Zebulon, if you must know. I must compliment all of you on the broom that you produced. You really did rise to the challenge this past year…and created one for me as well. It has been extremely difficult all these months avoiding the real Hagrid, getting past your formidable security and then sabotaging that cursed broom. “Tromed Love! The name is a mockery! It should have died with the broom after I laid that curse. Your exhibition was most unexpected that morning, as was your decision not to fly with Potter tonight. No matter. Soon he will be brought before Lord Voldemort…with you and all these other blood traitors as well!” The man’s face, and they were now seeing its true form, told all three girls that reaching for their wands would be a mistake. Fortunately for the cavalry, there was more than one troop in the world, and in that day and age they tended to move quickly. From the corner of the hut, from under a cloak of invisibility came Harry and a fast Zapfzz stun bolt. The Death Eater staggered back into the doorway and into the arms of the real Hagrid. Their friend, who himself had been drugged and left in the forest, proceeded to bounce his new toy on the floor like a rubber ball. “Score another one for Hogwarts,” Harry said after giving Ginny a much-needed hug. “Uncle Spenser…did this really happen?” Angus asked. He was the only one of the children still awake, and the one that I would naturally expect to ask that. Molly Weasley had helped put Nicholas and Alastor to bed a half-hour before with the promise that I would finish the story for them another time. Before she returned to the girls, she had also placed a quilt over little Arthur who refused to leave before I was done. “Yes, it did,” Harry told him. “Your father took my place in the final part of the race while I rushed back to Hogwarts to help your mother, Aunt Luna, and Aunt Ginny. We lost Tromed Love that night, but we did help capture five Death Eaters.” “Our next broom was even better son,” Ron added. Crack! Through the back door came Arthur Weasley (the senior) with a huge grin on his face and an unopened bottle of champagne in each hand. “Harry…you are a father again. Molly and the girls are expecting you. You had best get going. I’ll watch the children.” “Wait, Uncle Harry…you never told us. Why did you name the broom Tromed Love?” Angus asked in a sleepy voice. “To mock old You-Know-Who,” I answered for him. “It’s essentially his name spelled backward.” Ron, Harry, and I Apparated to just outside the gates to Hogwarts and took off on a wild run toward the castle and the infirmary. All of us lived in or near Hogsmeade, so when the girls (who shared the same midwife) went into labor together, it was decided that everyone would impose upon Madame Pomfrey and her school facility. As we approached the ward, we saw Neville Longbottom and Brandon Llewellyn pacing back and forth outside the door. “It couldn’t be…not you too?” Harry stammered in surprise. “Well there was this really cold, snowy night nine months ago,” Neville sheepishly began. “We know. We already brought that up a while back. I know this midwife is a miracle worker, but how could she arrange for all the girls to go into labor at the exact same time? It’s almost creepy,” Ron pointed out. “Mrs. Cabbageworth and her husband are about to go on holiday…Jamaica I think I heard,” Brandon said. The quiet Welshman rarely made a joke, so we believed what he said. We rushed into the infirmary, and I waved to Hermione who was still too weak to do anything but smile back. Going over to Luna, I received my own new daughter. Great Gadfrey! Their fingers are so tiny. “You did great Luna! She’s so beautiful.” “Yes, she is,” she quietly agreed. “Are you…are you still angry at me?” “Are you going to retract that ridiculous Las Vegas story…where we wait seven years and they have to practically kidnap you?” “I think that we just did.” I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, but she was already asleep. I walked over to Ginny’s bed, where Harry was holding his own new-born, and smiling so hard you would think his face was going to crack. Ginny was still awake, but clearly as exhausted as the other girls. “Spenser, I would like you to meet Albus Severus Potter, after…well you already know that.” “Harry…Ginny, this is Jennifer Kaylee Hemmingway.” In the distance, we could hear another baby coming into the world. We all had to wonder if it was a new Longbottom or a Llewellyn. “From the sound of it Harry, we now have a whole new generation waiting to try out your brooms.” “We certainly do. Who knows…in fourteen or fifteen years our two children may be dating each other as well.” That shut me up. Mischief managed! A/N: I originally named Harry’s second-born Sherman. I have always been of the off-beat opinion that J.K. Rowling is a fan of the American television show M*A*S*H. It included in its cast HARRY Morgan, who portrayed Colonel Sherman T. POTTER. Therefore, in a side-door kind of way, it was still a tip-of-the-hat to our young Wizard friend. I have recently altered my stories however to bring their children’s names in line with canon. Nicholas and Jennifer, Spenser’s son and daughter, are named after my own kids, whom I promised to include in a story someday. Thanks again to Lady Tory who gave me the original idea for a broomsmith. |
| Reviews 12 |
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