(Third Person POV)
Harry barely waited until he reached Gryffindor Tower before throwing open his trunk.
Clothes flew onto the floor, books followed, and then Ron had to duck as a battered cauldron sailed over his head.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
"My Firebolt!"
Harry finally pulled the sleek broom free and held it triumphantly over his head. "There you are!"
Hermione, who had been watching the increasingly chaotic search with folded arms, frowned. "...Harry."
He looked at her expectantly.
"I don't think Professor Lockhart meant for you to fly into the sky with the egg."
Harry blinked. "He said I should try opening it somewhere else, and he specifically mentioned the sky."
"He also mentioned underground," Hermione pointed out patiently. "And other environments."
Harry nodded. "Exactly. Which means he was giving examples."
Ron scratched his chin thoughtfully, "I don't know..."
Both Harry and Hermione turned toward him.
"I think Harry's onto something."
Hermione closed her eyes. "Oh no."
Ron leaned forward enthusiastically. "Think about it. Professor Lockhart knows he can't tell Harry the answer outright."
Harry nodded eagerly.
"So he gives him a hint."
"Exactly!" Harry's face brightened.
"And the very first place he mentions..."
"The sky!" they exclaimed together.
Hermione stared at both boys.
"...Did neither of you notice," she asked slowly, "that he deliberately paused before saying 'different surroundings?'"
The two boys looked blankly at her.
"He was practically telling you the environment itself was important."
"Exactly," Harry said.
Hermione smiled.
Finally, her dumb boyfriend was getting it.
"...The sky is an environment," Harry finished confidently.
Her smile vanished.
Ron slapped Harry on the shoulder. "Brilliant!"
"I knew you'd see it." Harry smiled.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "I cannot believe this."
Harry was already fastening the egg into his satchel. "If it works, great."
"And if it doesn't?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.
He shrugged. "Then we'll try something else."
Ron grinned. "That's the Gryffindor spirit."
"No," Hermione muttered.
"That's exactly the problem."
…
A few minutes later, the three of them stepped out into the chilly January air.
Harry carried his Firebolt over one shoulder while Ron held an old Cleansweep that he had just borrowed from Fred.
Apparently Fred had been delighted by the explanation.
"If Harry explodes," he'd said cheerfully, "make sure someone gets a picture."
George had nodded solemnly. "We'll use it for the next catalogue."
Neither twin had elaborated what they meant by that.
Hermione had seriously considered hexing both of them.
Now they crossed the snow-covered grounds toward the Quidditch pitch.
Harry looked positively excited.
Ron practically bounced with every step.
Hermione trudged behind them, hugging her cloak tightly around herself.
"I still think Professor Lockhart meant underwater," she said for perhaps the sixth time.
Harry shook his head. "No, the sky makes more sense."
"Why?"
"Because he mentioned it first."
Hermione stared at him. "That..."
She opened her mouth.
Closed it again.
Then took a deep breath.
"That is not how clues work."
Ron disagreed immediately. "It absolutely is. What if he mentioned it first because it was the most important?"
Hermione looked heavenward as though silently asking for strength.
"Or," she suggested patiently, "he mentioned several places because he didn't want to make the real answer obvious."
But neither boy replied to that, which somehow irritated her even more.
"You're not even listening to me."
"We are," Harry assured her. "We just disagree."
"Strongly," Ron added.
Hermione sighed. "Fine."
"If the two of you insist on testing this ridiculous theory, I suppose I have no choice but to come with you."
Harry smiled. "I knew you'd help."
"I'm not helping," Hermione corrected immediately. "I'm supervising."
Ron looked confused. "What's the difference?"
"The difference," Hermione replied, "is that when this inevitably goes horribly wrong, someone needs to stop you two from accidentally killing yourselves."
She looked at both boys in turn. "And judging by your current plan..."
Her eyes settled on Harry's satchel containing the gleaming golden egg.
"...something definitely will."
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, then shrugged simultaneously.
"Fair enough."
Hermione rolled her eyes so hard she was fairly certain she could see the inside of her own skull.
"Boys..."
She muttered the word with all the exhausted affection of someone who had long ago accepted that common sense was apparently not a requirement for Gryffindor House.
Then, despite all her protests...
She followed them onto the Quidditch pitch.
After all...
Someone had to keep the idiots alive.
…
As it turned out...
Hermione had been completely right.
The moment Harry pried the golden egg open while hovering high above the Quidditch pitch, the egg unleashed the same ear-splitting shriek it always had.
The horrific sound echoed across the castle grounds like a hundred banshees screaming in unison.
Even standing safely on the grass far below, Hermione instinctively clapped her hands over her ears.
"What did I tell them?" she groaned.
Hundreds of metres above, Harry had it much worse.
He had been holding the egg with both hands. And the instant the shrieking reached him at point-blank range, his entire body jerked in surprise.
"AARGH!"
He immediately released the egg to cover both ears, causing the golden egg to tumble end over end through the air.
Unfortunately...
Harry also forgot one very important detail, he was no longer holding onto his broom.
"Oh no..." Hermione whispered.
Harry blinked once, then looked down and his green eyes widened.
"...Uh-oh."
Gravity, never known for its patience, immediately reclaimed him.
He slipped clean off the Firebolt, and for one long, horrifying second… Harry Potter was simply falling.
Ron, however, had apparently shown an unusual flash of foresight.
Before taking off, he had borrowed a pair of thick earmuffs from the greenhouses. The very same ones students used during Mandrake repotting lessons.
The shriek reached him only as a muffled squeal.
"Blimey, good thing I brought these," he muttered.
Seeing the golden egg plummeting earthward, Ron didn't hesitate and kicked his borrowed broom into a steep dive.
"If that cracks," he shouted to himself, "Harry'll never solve the clue!"
But completely focused on intercepting the falling egg, he failed to notice that Harry was also falling.
On the ground below, Hermione had expected exactly this level of disaster.
She already had her wand out.
"Arresto Momentum!"
Golden magic shot upward and struck Harry just before panic could fully set in.
His rapid descent slowed immediately.
Instead of smashing into the frozen pitch, he drifted gently downward like an autumn leaf before touching the grass with only the slightest stumble.
Harry blinked.
He looked at himself.
Then at Hermione.
"I..." He swallowed. "...Thanks, Hermione."
She let out the breath she'd been holding. "You are welcome."
For exactly one second, everything was peaceful, but then Harry's eyes suddenly widened again.
"My Firebolt!"
He spun around frantically. "My broom!"
His voice carried enough panic to suggest someone had just informed him Hogwarts was on fire.
He looked left.
Right.
Behind him.
"My Firebolt!"
Without another word, he sprinted across the pitch at full speed.
"There!"
The famous racing broom lay near the spectator stands where it had landed after being thrown from his grip.
Harry reached it, dropped to one knee, and picked it up with almost reverent care.
He examined every inch of polished wood.
The handle.
The tail twigs.
Not a single scratch could be found.
He hugged it tightly against his chest. "Oh, thank Merlin..."
A moment later Ron swooped down from above, the golden egg tucked safely beneath one arm.
He landed neatly beside Harry. "Good thing Firebolts come with loads of protective enchantments."
Harry nodded vigorously. "Yeah."
He looked sheepish. "I completely forgot about that."
Hermione finally caught up with them, slightly out of breath after crossing nearly the entire Quidditch pitch.
She looked from Harry, to the perfectly unharmed broom… and then back to Harry.
"So," she said slowly.
"They enchant the broom against falls."
"Of course," Ron replied.
"You'd think," Hermione continued, "they'd also extend those protections to the rider."
Ron blinked. "Oh, they tried."
"They did?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah." Ron nodded matter-of-factly.
"But the enchantments interfered with each other. The more protection you put on the rider, the weaker the protection on the broom."
"So the manufacturers had to choose."
Hermione stared. "They had to choose..."
Ron nodded.
"Protect the broom… or protect the rider."
"Exactly." Ron smiled.
"And..." Hermione paused, almost afraid to ask.
"They chose the broom?"
Ron looked at her as though the answer couldn't possibly be more obvious.
"Well..."
He patted the Firebolt's polished handle. "These things are expensive."
Harry nodded in complete agreement. "They cost a fortune."
Hermione looked at both boys for several long seconds.
Then she slowly lowered her face into one hand.
"So..." She sighed deeply.
"In the magical world… A wizard's apparently cheaper than a broom."
Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to find anything strange about that statement.
Ron merely shrugged. "When you put it like that..."
Harry scratched the back of his head. "...It does sound a bit odd."
"A bit?" Hermione repeated weakly.
She looked toward Hogwarts, silently wondering if there was any hope left for wizarding society.
…