Looking down at the shrinking patch of the Burrow, Harry realized this wasn't just a purchase. It was the fastest thing in the wizarding world, and for the first time, the Golden Snitch didn't stand a chance.
He didn't even need to kick off. He simply thought of the sky, and the broom surged. There was no wobbling, no vibration. It was like being strapped to a bolt of lightning that knew exactly where he wanted to go. He banked hard left, and the world tilted effortlessly; he dove, and the wind didn't just whistle past his ears—it roared in triumph.
Harry reached out, his fingers brushing the cool wood. The moment he touched it, the broom seemed to sigh. It didn't just sit there; it hovered a fraction of an inch off the silk, humming with a restless, kinetic energy.
The package arrived at the Burrow not by owl, but by a weary-looking Ministry courier who seemed glad to be rid of the vibrating, long rectangular crate.
