Chapter 53 — A Promise Kept

Ron brought a notebook to Quidditch practice. I noticed it as we followed Wood down the path, then watched him open it when the captain began explaining positioning. He licked the end of his quill until Hermione told him not to and started writing. I suggested he might find the technique useful in lessons as well.

He said he used it there. Hermione made a small noise beside me, and he qualified the claim before returning to Wood’s explanation. The captain was describing where a Keeper should move when the Chasers drew defenders across the pitch. Ron listened with the attention I usually had to request several times before beginning an experiment.

‘You’re preparing early,’ I said. He looked up from a diagram to explain that this was when preparation ought to happen. Waiting until somebody gave him a place on the team would be a poor time to start learning what to do with it. I could hardly dispute that when most of my useful work happened long before the moment anyone noticed I needed it.

The morning was cold enough to make standing still unpleasant. Hermione had come despite having plenty of work she would rather finish indoors. Harry walked ahead with the players, carrying my Nimbus and looking towards the pitch between attempts to follow Wood’s increasingly detailed plan. Then the captain stopped talking, and Ron nearly walked into me while finishing a note.

The Slytherin team had appeared on the path ahead. Polished broom shafts caught the light beneath their green robes. Wood recognised Flint at once, speaking with a hostility which recalled the previous year’s match rather clearly. I remembered Flint knocking him out of the air and could understand why a cheerful greeting might have been difficult.

‘We’ve booked the pitch,’ Wood said. Flint replied that they were training their new Seeker and produced a note before Wood could direct him elsewhere. The captain read it, his jaw moving slightly. He confirmed that it carried Professor Snape’s permission, then asked who needed this specially authorised practice.

Malfoy stepped from behind one of the larger players. He rested his broom across his shoulder, making the name easy to read, and looked straight at Harry. Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed along the shaft. Ron’s gaze moved from it to the others; all seven carried the same model.

Flint explained that Draco’s father had provided them. Malfoy examined the older Nimbus in Harry’s hands and suggested he would need to be careful keeping up. Harry did not answer, though his grip shifted. I watched Malfoy’s eyes turn towards me and waited for the part of the conversation he had plainly been hoping to reach.

‘Nothing to say, Mercer?’ he asked. Several conversations around us stopped. Enough people had heard my promise last year to understand what he wanted, and the others could probably recognise an expensive argument without being supplied its history. I looked along the line of brooms and told him they were very nice.

He wanted to know whether that was all. I shook my head as a large figure came into view behind his team, carrying a long wooden crate. Hagrid adjusted his grip where the path dipped, walking with a care I rarely saw him need in the forest. I raised a hand and called him over before Malfoy could demand a more satisfactory answer.

Both teams turned. Hagrid lowered the crate onto the grass with great care, then straightened and rubbed a hand against his coat. A smaller package had been secured alongside it. He looked at me with the weary satisfaction of somebody who had successfully moved an awkward object and now wanted the recipient to appreciate the achievement.

‘Next time, tell me how much room it’ll take,’ he said. ‘Thought I’d collected half the shop window.’ I thanked him and inspected the undamaged wood. He explained that the supplier had made a fuss about protecting the finish, so he had spent the journey trying not to knock the ends. I assured him that he had done beautifully, and he looked pleased despite the complaint.

He produced a receipt and a small brass key. The supplier had given him the key after he signed for the sealed order; now he checked the numbered tag against the paperwork before bending to the fastenings. Harry came closer, asking what I had done. I told him I had kept a promise and stood aside to let Hagrid raise the lid.

The new brooms lay in fitted rows. For a few seconds, the most satisfying sound in the grounds was the absence of anything Malfoy wanted to say. Ron inhaled sharply beside me. Fred and George moved nearer, their earlier knowledge apparently insufficient protection against seeing the order in front of them.

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‘Fifteen Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones,’ I said. ‘The other package is the protective equipment.’ George looked at me with an expression I would have expected if I had announced the cancellation of examinations. Fred crouched beside the smaller parcel and waited until I nodded before he and his brother opened it.

Pads, gloves and the rest of the ordered gear appeared beneath the wrapping. Fred lifted a Beater’s bat and tested its weight, keeping it clear of everyone nearby. George read the manufacturer’s card and made a noise which seemed to contain a much longer opinion. He announced that this was professional kit, and I confirmed that it was what I had ordered.

Wood knelt beside the crate. He counted the brooms, looked at me, then counted again before asking why there were fifteen. I explained about the seven players, training, replacements and anyone who earned a reserve place. If somebody was going to practise towards a place on the team, I preferred them to learn on equipment they would actually use.

‘Reserves too?’ Ron asked. He looked from the nearest broom to Wood, and I reminded him that buying equipment did not select the players. He would still have to persuade the captain. Wood confirmed that everybody would, though his attention remained on the rows inside the crate. I was glad he had said it before anyone mistook a gift for a team list.

I had not bought myself a place either. Harry could do more with a broom in ten minutes than I could manage in a morning, and I had other work I wanted to be good at. The team needed equipment whether I flew for it or not. Watching their faces, I found that a satisfactory use for a promise which had begun as an argument with Malfoy.

He had stopped smiling. Flint looked between the open crate and the seven brooms his players carried, with considerably less interest in prolonging the meeting. I turned back towards Malfoy and reminded him of the condition: if his father bought the current model when he joined, I would equip Gryffindor. The whole team, while I was at school.

‘Easy to waste somebody else’s money,’ he said. The remark reached something tender before I could prevent it. My parents had left the fortune which made this possible. Owning a shop for a summer had not transformed their money into something I had earned through cleverness, however much work I put into deciding what to do with it.

‘Then we both ought to make good use of what our parents gave us,’ I replied. His mouth tightened, and I turned enough to include Wood beside the crate. ‘I mean to keep the promise. Current equipment and proper protection. After that, they still have to fly.’

Wood stood with one of the brooms in his hands. He had recovered his voice and appeared willing to use it generously. Since Flint had Professor Snape’s permission, he said, they could share the pitch. Separate sections would do, or they could play a practice match if the Slytherins wanted to try their new Seeker.

The offer contained rather too much pleasure to sound entirely friendly. Still, he had acknowledged the note instead of pretending it did not exist. Flint looked towards his team. Malfoy’s attention moved between Wood and Harry, whose expression had become considerably more interested in the morning’s possibilities.

Flint said they would train later. He turned sharply enough to make the players behind him move aside, then led them back along the path. Ron had obtained Wood’s permission to lift one of the new brooms and raised it in farewell as Malfoy passed. The resulting look suggested that he would prefer us to find much less enjoyment in their departure.

Once they were far enough away, the twins abandoned restraint. Fred clapped me on the shoulder while George embraced me so abruptly that I nearly stepped against the crate. Hagrid warned us to mind it after all his careful carrying. I regained my balance and thanked George for allowing me to keep most of my ribs where they belonged.

Hermione examined the equipment, then asked whether I had arranged all of it. I explained about the order, Emma and the people handling the account. When I mentioned Emma asking whether I was certain about the number, Hermione called her sensible. There was a smile behind it as she checked the fastening on a pad and surrendered it to Fred before his patience failed.

Wood handed a broom to Harry, then looked directly at me. ‘Thank you, Oswald,’ he said. ‘I mean it. These will go in the team store, and I’ll keep track of who uses each one.’

I gave him the paperwork Hagrid had brought, keeping the copy for my account. The new equipment belonged to the team now. My older Nimbus remained mine; Harry laid it carefully aside while Wood began checking the gear. Seeing somebody take responsibility for the order mattered more than pretending that a large bill carried no weight.

For a while I let myself enjoy the scene without planning the next purchase. This was something I had decided to do and then arranged, and now the result lay in my friends’ hands. It would not catch the Snitch for Harry or stop a goal for Wood. It would give them proper equipment when they tried, and Malfoy had received the answer I had promised him.

Wood called for three cheers for Oswald Mercer. The response carried across the grounds, with the twins putting enough effort into it to make Hermione cover one ear. I laughed before the third cheer had finished. Hagrid grinned beside me, and Ron stood near the crate holding the broom he had been allowed to try.

Then Wood blew his whistle and began organising the first flights. I moved back with the others to leave room, watching the players gather their new equipment. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were unlikely to surrender because we had opened a box, whatever the twins now predicted. I was looking forward to seeing what our team could actually do with it.