Chương 445: Chapter 445: No Way, Slytherin Team Still Doesn't Have a Firebolt? (Edited)
Tom struggled to get out of the crowd and approached Hermione's table. At that moment, she was packing a large number of books, arithmantic divination charts, runic dictionaries, and similar items into her backpack.
"I've finished the final review," Hermione said as she packed away a dense amount of notes. "The quill is very useful; it saves a lot of effort not having to dip it in ink."
"You worked hard. It wasn't really necessary," Tom said as he helped Hermione organize her desk. He felt a bit guilty because Hermione had also done her part.
"Perfection is sought," Hermione responded, seemingly unworried.
"I lent the broom to Cho Chang, so I don't have to participate in the team's matches," Tom said.
"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"So I can focus on my studies and tasks for the rest of the semester," Tom said with little confidence.
"I believe you," Hermione's expression said it all. She packed everything into her backpack and left, hugging the backpack.
The next day, when Tom entered the Great Hall, he noticed that the atmosphere was a bit strange: students from the other three Houses stared at him until Harry entered and diverted some of the attention.
After finishing his meal, as Tom was getting ready to leave the Great Hall, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Marcus Flint, stood in front of him with his arms crossed, and other Slytherin team members approached and surrounded him.
"Yodel, I heard you have a Firebolt," Marcus said boldly. "The Firebolt belongs to the sky and the field, it shouldn't be stored in a corner gathering dust. What I mean is, since you have no intention of using it, why don't you lend the broom to Slytherin?"
At one point, Tom thought Marcus had lost his mind. Was it appropriate to say that in public? And why should he lend them the broom? Because you look like a troll?
"Of course, I wouldn't ask to borrow the broom without reason," Marcus wasn't stupid; he knew that in these situations, it was necessary to show enough sincerity and offer an appropriate reward. "We're willing to exchange it for the Nimbus 2001, and you'll also receive a generous reward: fifty Galleons per semester. How does that sound?"
In Marcus's opinion, he had already shown great sincerity: the Nimbus 2001 was a slightly inferior broom to the Firebolt, and fifty Galleons was a large sum. With that money, Tom wouldn't have to worry about book expenses for the next few years, unless a Lockhart-style professor appeared.
To show his sincerity, he took out a leather pouch from his pocket, filled with jingling gold Galleons.
"I'm sorry, I've already decided to lend the broom to our House's Seeker, and I don't need money," Tom said, shaking his head.
Marcus's expression immediately turned ugly. "I think you should think it over," he said.
Before he could finish his threat, Tom roughly pushed Montague, who was beside him. Montague was taken by surprise and stumbled, creating a gap in the net surrounding Tom. Tom walked straight out through the opening while drawing his wand.
"My broom, I have the right to decide who gets it," Tom said indifferently as he pointed his wand at Marcus's throat, who was trying to approach.
"Didn't your parents teach you to maintain social distance?" The tip of Tom's wand emitted some blue sparks, setting fire to Marcus's beard and leaving a burnt smell.
"You..." Marcus swallowed and wanted to say more, but he was interrupted.
"Marcus, why are you wasting time here instead of training?" Wood's voice came from behind Marcus. He and Fred and George approached.
As someone approached, Tom lowered his wand but didn't put it away. He remained alert, ready to cast a spell at any moment.
The three nearby didn't notice Tom's subtle movements due to Marcus's interference. Fred spoke loudly to George, "Seriously? Slytherin's team still doesn't have Firebolts? Don't they call themselves rich? How come they don't even have one Firebolt?"
Although he was talking to George, anyone with a minimum of intelligence knew who that comment was directed at.
Marcus's breath immediately quickened. Fred's words had struck a nerve, and a rush of blood went to his head.
At that moment, Wood also chimed in, "I won't hide anything. Our Harry got a Firebolt, and it's said that Ravenclaw has one too... If I were you, I'd ramp up the training to avoid crying on the field, especially your Seeker; he really needs more practice."
Marcus found it challenging to control his emotions. Even though he would probably get hexed in the face if he attacked right then, he didn't care. He'd rather take a hex and teach those people a lesson. Just as he was about to lose control, he saw Richie from Ravenclaw approaching with some of his teammates.
This was undoubtedly a great calming influence, and Marcus immediately composed himself.
"Hmph. We don't need you to worry about our training," he said as he circled around Tom and quickly walked away.
"You should get closer to your own teammates," Wood said with a laugh as he headed toward Richie. As Wood approached, he extended his fist and fist-bumped him.
"What did Marcus want from you?" Richie looked at Tom with concern.
Tom shrugged and told him about Marcus's plans.
"How despicable!" Richie exclaimed angrily after hearing it. "But don't worry, our house won't be left behind!" After cursing, he also took a moment to reassure Tom.
...
"Malfoy, can't you really get a Firebolt?" After they walked away, Marcus asked Malfoy, who was following him. They had talked in the morning, and Marcus knew that Malfoy's father wasn't interested in buying brooms. That's why he had decided to go after Tom. After failing with Tom, Marcus thought he might succeed with Draco: the Malfoy family was rich, wouldn't it be easy to buy a Firebolt with a little extra money?
Draco took a deep breath. "I talked to my father earlier; I got seven Nimbus 2001s."
What he meant was that he had already tried once, and it was unlikely he'd succeed in getting a Firebolt if he tried again. His father loved him, but he wasn't infinitely indulgent.
However, the fact that Potter had a better broom than his bothered Draco a lot.
"I'll send a letter to my father, but don't expect too much," Draco said coldly.
"Great, I'll be looking forward to good news from you."
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