HP: Supreme Potion Collector [Original Female Protagonist]

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In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey had almost grown accustomed to the twins' frequent visits.

She mended Fred's arm with a few quick flicks of her wand, then shooed them out without even offering any pain-relieving potion or ointment—she believed a bit of pain would teach them a better lesson.

Once they finally escaped Madam Pomfrey's nagging and dashed back to the tower, George at last had a moment to check on his brother.

George: "How's your arm? Merlin's beard, the team's about to start training soon. I hope it won't affect your performance."

Fred: "Relax, it's not like this is our first rodeo with broken bones. This is Madam Pomfrey's specialty. I bet I won't feel a thing by dinner time."

Fred waved his newly mended arm, but he seemed more concerned about something else.

Fred: "Brother, truth is, what might affect my performance probably won't be my arm..."

He slowly loosened his other hand that had been tightly gripping the broomstick handle. The broom suddenly bent at an odd angle.

George: "Blimey! Your broomstick handle is cracked!"

George exclaimed, rushing over to catch the broom before it could worsen.

George: "If you ride this onto the pitch, Wood will have your head!"

Fred: "Do you reckon if I write to Mum, she'll buy me a new broom?"

Fred slumped onto the bed dejectedly.

George: "I think she's more likely to send you a Howler."

George shuddered at the thought.

By dinner time, half of Gryffindor had caught wind of Harry being selected for the Quidditch team.

Although Wood had sworn him to secrecy, Harry was too thrilled to keep it to himself and couldn't wait to tell Ron.

Consequently, not only did the Gryffindor Quidditch team members know about it, but even Hermione and Orli overheard it clearly from across the table.

Orli: "Is your arm feeling any better?"

Orli watched Fred gesticulating wildly, concerned about his arm.

Fred: "Right as rain, I assure you. It's as good as the day Mum popped me out."

Fred nodded at her, swinging his arm even more vigorously.

Hermione: "Speaking of which, Orli, what do you make of that broom incident? I've pored over several books this afternoon, but I couldn't find any spell that could glue someone's hand to a broom."

Hermione looked thoroughly perplexed, her brows knitted together.

Ron: "Do you even need to ask? I'm telling you, it must be Malfoy up to his old tricks. Harry used that broom before, maybe he was trying to give Harry a fright, or maybe he was gunning for Orli specifically. Who knows?"

Ron stabbed a kidney pie and stuffed it into his mouth.

Harry: "What happened? I feel like I've missed out on a lot."

Harry looked at everyone in confusion. Seamus leaned over and filled him in on the events of the flying lesson in meticulous detail.

Orli: "That's what transpired,"

Orli also seemed a bit puzzled.

Orli: "To be honest, I don't really think Malfoy could have pulled this off. After all, he never got near that broom, and I absolutely don't believe that he, at his current level, could master wandless and nonverbal magic."

Hermione nodded, concurring with Orli's assessment.

Hermione: "Perhaps... we should look into potions as well?"

She cast a meaningful glance towards the professors' table.

Orli followed her gaze to Snape, paused for a moment, then shifted her eyes to Quirrell sitting next to him with his large turban.

Perhaps the broom wasn't Malfoy's handiwork after all. It's worth noting that there's certainly more than one person in the school who has it in for Harry now.