Teddy held up his hands. "I'm just saying. It's probably from a girl. Like I told you, no self-respecting boy is going to give you candy."
"Okay, fine. How do we tell which girl, then?"
Giving Harry another sly look, Teddy drawled, "We could make an announcement in the Great Hall . . ."
"Teddy!"
"Kidding! But there are ways to figure out who last handled something. You know, before you picked it up."
"What, like fingerprints?"
"Finger what?"
Harry lifted both eyebrows in surprise. "Fingerprints . . . Erm. Probably just a Muggle thing."
"Oh, right. I forget sometimes."
Harry grimaced again. "I seem so normal, right?"
Teddy's expression turned rueful. "Yeah, kind of. Sorry, Harry, but I've never really met any Muggles before. I've been doing some reading, and often times, a person with limited or no exposure to a different . . . culture can get stuck in all sorts of preconceived notions, which may or may not be accurate. And they can awfully difficult to overcome, too."
Harry rolled his eyes. Teddy was like no one he had ever met. "Whatever. So, how would you figure out who held the box last?"
"Magical signature." At Harry's blank look, he continued, "Everyone's magic is a little bit different, which is why everyone's wands are a bit different, too. With the right spell, you can figure out the signature of the one who held the box last because there'll be a remnant of their magic on the box."
"Will the . . . remnant give you their name?"
Teddy shook his head. "No, but you'll be able to compare it to the signature of people who it might be, to see if it matches."
Harry couldn't help but laugh. "So . . . I'd need to go 'round to all the girls in school and see if any of them has the same magical signature as what's on the box?"
"Well, yeah."
"It might be faster to make that announcement. Less likely to get me hexed, too."
Snorting a laugh, Teddy admitted it was a long shot. "There are other things we can try, though. It would take a bit of research . . ."
"Aw, admit it, Teddy, you just like spending time in the library."
"Okay, fine! But it does have far more books than my father's, and on so many different topics. It's amazing, really. And the section on counter-curses is just—"
"Amazing. I know."
"Prat."
"Bookworm."
"Quidditch Bat."
Harry laughed. "At least I'm not a snitch."
Grinning, Teddy said, "True enough." He cast a quick Tempus and sighed then started picking up the table. "We have Herbology in twenty minutes."
"Don't you like playing with plants?" Harry asked as he collected several books and reshelved them.
"I'd rather play with Potions."
"Yeah, me, too." When Teddy turned to him, looking surprised, Harry added, "Well, it's an interesting class when Snape isn't calling me names and stuff. And I finally understand about adjusting the acidity of the base, depending on what the first ingredient you add next is, so I might do well in the next practical. He explained it to me last night."
"Good deal," Teddy said.
"Yeah. He's really been, I don't know, different with me. Since . . . you know."
"Since you almost killed yourself on the pitch."
"I didn't!"
"You almost did."
"I wasn't trying to!"
"I know." They finished putting the books away before Teddy steered them quickly out of the library. Harry was getting louder and having a harder time holding his temper, and Madam Pince was glaring at them from her desk. "But all the same, you could've died."
Silently fuming, Harry shrugged up one shoulder. He hadn't really thought of it that way. But he supposed Teddy was right. He never wanted to lose himself like that again, and if maybe Snape wouldn't assign him a gagillion detentions for no reason, he probably wouldn't. It had been . . . frightening, that red haze of rage, the feel of the Bludger crushing his arm, the rawness of his screams . . .
Teddy was giving him another odd look, and Harry pushed memories of his near-breakdown away. "Wonder what we'll plant today," he said to change the subject.
"Probably something with thorns," Teddy griped.
"Or mucus."
"Or teeth."
Harry laughed and they went out to the greenhouses together.
It was two more days before Harry got the go ahead from Madam Pomfrey to fly again, and he could not wait to get out on the pitch. She told him her ban was lifted during his morning check-in, which was just after breakfast on the day of his next Quidditch practice. He was so excited, he could barely sit through morning classes. At lunch, he was bouncing in his seat.
"Ants in your pants, Harry?" Millicent teased.
He shook his head and swallowed his bite of sandwich. "Going flying today."
"But you'll stay out of the hospital wing, yeah?" asked Draco, smirking.
"Certainly hope so," Harry said, grinning back. "But you never know. Rogue Bludgers. They're everywhere."
His friends laughed, and the bunch of them carried on in like vein for a few more minutes before Draco looked up, surprised. "Owl alert," he called, and everyone covered their dishes. One of the second year Slytherins had an owl with . . . incontinence issues, and they never knew when the bloody thing was going to visit. "Safe," Draco told them a minute later. "No Icarus. But there is a package coming. . . ."
Harry peered up, along with everyone else at their end of the table, in time to see six large screech owls dipping down towards him, carrying a long, thin package between them.
"Heads up, Harry!" Millicent called, and Harry jumped from his seat and stretched up, just as the owls let go of their delivery. The package dropped like a stone, and Harry snatched it out of the air. A final owl zoomed past his head, dropping an envelope with the words, "OPEN THIS FIRST" scrawled on the front in a very recognizable script.
"Owl post at lunch," Teddy said. "Wonder who it's from."
"My secret admirer, maybe," Harry muttered, and Teddy laughed.
"They're getting bold, then."
But it wasn't from a secret admirer. In fact, when Harry opened the envelope and took out a card, he had to read it through three times before he could believe the words.
"What's it say?" Teddy asked. "Is it a clue?"
"It's from Professor Snape," Harry whispered. He yanked a bit of the butcher paper off the top of the package, exposing just the end of a broomstick.
"Let me see," Millie said, and grabbed at the card, so she could read it aloud, in a stage whisper. "'DO NOT OPEN parcel at the table, or everyone will want one, and I am not running a charitable organization here. However, Slytherin's Seeker does need a decent broom.' And it's signed 'Professor S. Snape.' Merlin's drawers!" Millie gaped at Harry. "The professor sent you—"
"A Nimbus 2000." Harry's voice was low and reverent as he smoothed a hand over the handle of the new broom, all he allowed himself to open of the parcel until he could be alone. "I can't believe it."
Teddy smirked, and kept his voice down, too. "Well, he wants us to win, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, but . . ." Harry glanced up at the Head Table, just in time to see the professor turn his head away. A tinge of red infused the normally sallow cheeks. If Harry didn't know better, he would think Snape was embarrassed. For that matter, Harry was embarrassed, and he could feel his ears getting red. He had never received a gift for no reason before. And the only ones he'd gotten for cause was Hedwig, for his birthday, and some candy, for getting laid up in the Infirmary.
But what a gift this was!
Why would Snape give him a new broom? he wondered. Was it really just 'cause he wanted Slytherin to win the Quidditch Cup? Or was this another way of making up for being such a git before, to Harry? Whatever the reason, Harry was even more excited to fly again.