"Hey mate, wanna play some Quidditch?" A ginger head poked over the back of the couch by the common-room fireplace.

Harry looked up at his best friend of seven years. "Sure, it's been too long since I've been on a broom, and we do need to distract ourselves from the recent events. Let me just ask Professor McGonagall where my Firebolt is while you ask if anyone else wants to play, and I'll meet you on the pitch."

"No need, I got it already. She had retrieved it from the Toad's office last year and was keeping it for you, apparently. I was in her office earlier and liberated it." Ron held it out from behind his back, grinning in satisfaction; a grin quickly echoed by Harry. "And the others are waiting for us already. Come on, already."

Harry shook his head in exasperation. "Of course they are. You probably didn't even think that I might not want to play," he smirked as he got up and headed over to the exit portrait behind his friend.

"Are you kidding me? Harry Potter passing up a chance to fly? That's like Ron Weasley passing up food! Unthinkable!"

Harry stopped in his tracks, doubled up in laughter. Getting ahold of himself after a while, he wiped at the tears in his eyes. "At least you know yourself. That'll take you far. Race ya to the pitch!" He quickly jumped down the stairs and to the next landing before the staircase moved.

LBLBLBLBLBLB

Harry made it to the pitch only moments ahead of Ron, his head start quickly eaten up by his friend's longer legs, and after catching his breath turned and grabbed his broom out of the taller man's hands. "I see Kirke and Sloper are here, and Ginny, but who are gonna be our other Chasers? And who are we playing against, or is this going to be just a practice?" He nodded to the other Gryffindors on the pitch, as well as those in the stands, including Hermione, who was obviously enjoying the warmth of the May afternoon.

Ron smirked. "Ginny's roped Demelza Robbins and Romilda Vane into it. Don't worry, Romilda's learned her lesson. Right Romilda?" He mock-glared at the younger girl. "And I persuaded the Hufflepuffs to join us, they should be here soon. Meanwhile, let's get some practice in, I haven't done much flying recently either."

"Perfect." Harry tossed his broom down and held his hand over it. "Up! Up! Bloody thing, up! Oh, this is just bloody fantastic, I knew it!"

"What are you talking about, mate? What's wrong?" Ron guided his own Cleansweep over by Harry and looked at him questioningly.

"Remember the Toad's lifetime ban from Quidditch? It's still in effect, obviously. I was afraid of this." Harry kicked at the pitch grass in disgust.

"Actually, that can't be it," Hermione piped up, having descended the stands. "She didn't have any power to make such a ban, much less enforce it. Remember, none of her other decrees were magically upheld, why would this one be?"

"Then what's the problem? Obviously my Firebolt isn't rising, and I know I still have my magic."

"Oh Harry, honestly! There are at least two other possibilities – firstly, you may just have a mental block, because of Umbridge. However, I think the other one is more likely, that she did something to the broom itself." She pulled out her wand from her sleeve and waved it at the broom, frowning more and more with each pass. "Strange, I'm not reading any magic at all from it. I think she may have completely disenchanted it."

"Oh bloody hell! This is the last straw!" Harry growled and snatched up the broom, stomping back to the castle.

"Oi! Where are you going? There's plenty of brooms to go around, you can borrow another for the game!" Ron flew off after him.

"Dammit Ron, this was the last thing I had left of Sirius, not counting the damn house or elf! It was the first gift I remember getting from him!"

"Oh. Sorry, mate. Of course you're right. But what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make her pay!"