"Why am I being a gifted a broom from House Malfoy then?" Harry did not want this broom. He quite liked his own. Loved it really. He’d had it for years despite his inheritance being twice that of Malfoy’s. He liked the grooves that had been dug into it from his crashes. He liked the scent of his broom polish at home —home-made; a secret recipe from his grandparents. He liked that he knew everything about his broom. How much to push, how hard to pull. How much effort to put in to stop. 