Harry carefully put the book in his backpack as well, then picked up the box. Frowning slightly, he carefully lived the compass out of its container and held it in the palm of his hand to examine it. The faintly quivering needle began to move slowly, then faster, then just started spinning in circles as if it had no idea where it wanted to point.
"...I think it's broken," he mused, carefully putting it back into its box, where it once again stopped spinning. "I think he'll like it anyway. It's really nice, the sort of thing a Black might carry around."