The Choices We Make ∆ Harry Potter Sister

Chapter 2.9

"It must've cost a fortune!" Ron yell-whispered at them. By the look of it, Harry could tell that Ron was quite right. The ash that made the handle was sturdy and very well polished, and the hazel twigs were well trimmed into a teardrop shape. Harry looked at his sister for an explanation, but she merely raised her hands in surrender, "Don't look at me. You know I don't have that many Galleons on me."

Eyes not leaving the broomstick, the youngest Weasley boy said to him, "Check for a note, mate."

Harry picked up the wrapping papers for any sign of a note mentioning or even just indicating the sender, but he was met with none. The only note he found was the one that had his name on it, making it obvious that whoever sent it wished to be anonymous but intended the gift for Harry. They were all too marveled by the Firebolt lying in the middle of their small circle that they didn't notice a certain Gryffindor with long bushy hair was making her way towards them from her spot at the corner of the room. "I think you should report it to a professor, Harry."

"Here she goes again," Ellie muttered under her breath, though Harry heard her and jabbed her on the ribs, signaling for her to behave. She rolled her eyes but held her tongue as her brother and his two best friends argued about the mysterious gift. If it were up to her, she'd gave the broom a test drive, see if it was in any state, but of course Miss-I-am-the-best-at-anything had to say something about it.

"You don't know who it's from. For all we know, it could be jinxed. I'm just trying to look after you, Harry, unlike some people."

Hermione Granger did quite a few mistakes during her years in Hogwarts, but none was as deadly as her last sentence. It was the last straw for Ellie and it took everything within Harry to held her back from pouncing on the brightest witch of his year. With her arms still trying to pry Harry off of herself, she spat at her, "Take that back, you nitwit!"

With Ellie kept fighting her way out, Harry was struggling even more to keep her grounded. He sent a pleading look to the twins, and was thankful when they received the message almost immediately. Standing up, the older twin led Snuffles up to their dorm, as the younger twin stood in front of Ellie, blocking a certain witch from her view. "Elle, let's go up to my dorm, yeah? Percy might not be too pleased to see a dog in the common room. We can play with Snuffles upstairs."

Without even waiting for her to answer, George picked Ellie up from the ground, slung her over his shoulder and head upstairs, a five minute journey that he had done thousands of times during his stay at Hogwarts, but never as painful as Ellie kept hitting on his back, demanding him to lower her to the ground so that she could do things he didn't realised she had the nerve to even imagine about them. Alas, she was stuck on his shoulder, as her fists were no match to his upper body strength, all thanks to years of Quidditch practice. Fred meet both of them halfway, opening the door to the dorm for them, with Snuffles obediently sitting in a corner of the room. Fred locked the door behind him after George and Ellie entered, for safety measures in case Ellie decided to make a run for it - she wasn't the quietest when a nerve was hit, and he had clearly heard the death threats slurring from her mouth like a drunken sailor.

"Elle, George's going to let you down, alright? But you're not to leave this room. Can you do that for us?" Fred asked carefully to the girl whom was still slumped over his twin's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She sent him a death glare but mumbled a yes, so George dropped her carefully to the floor and let her go once he was sure she was on her feet. At once, she grabbed her wand from her combat boots and whipped it silently at a bed, causing it to catch aflame. No remorse or guilt were evident in her eyes as she watched the flames licking the poster of the bed. Both Fred and George were caught off guard. They weren't thick enough to think that Eleanor Potter was a sweet little angle, they knew she was a pirate dressed like a princess, but they had never thought that she was one for violence. Sure, she cursed here and there, and sent threats once or twice, but setting a bed on fire without even flinching with a nonverbal magic at the age of twelve was something quite surprising, if not alarming. They quickly pulled out their wands and put out the fire within seconds. The bed could've been in a worse state with only its poster and sheet turned into ashes. The mattress was slightly blackened, but nothing too worrisome. Letting out a low whistle, Fred muttered his breath, "I'm glad you aimed at my bed."