Disclaimer: i own nothing in this, harry potter and characters are the property of J. K. Rowling

This story is NOT mine, this was a good story that got removed, and despite everyone giving me and others bad messages, i believe this deserves to be on FanFiction, and unless im sent a message by someone representing FanFiction, or the original writer of this story, im not removing it, so dont bother trying.

other than that, enjoy the story :) feedback is always a good thing :)


Harry woke up gradually, rubbing his eyes blearily, not truly wanting to. The sunlight from one of the dormitory windows shoen in, illuminating a figure in their light.

"Hey, lard ass, wake up." It was Matt. He gave Harry a saucy grin as he opened the curtains of his four poster bed a bit more. Harry groaned, and got up.

They both ate a quick breakfast in the Great Hall, while comparing eachother's schedules.

It seemed that they were sharing the same Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration classes. The other ones were scheduled different or otherwise. Well, half the schedule was good, Harry supposed.

They quickly headed to the first class, which was with Snape. Harry long knew of Snape's dislike of Potters in general, from stories he heard his father telling Henry, although why James thought telling his son about how he bullied a nerdy kid and tormented him for his good grades thorughout the school year was a good father son experience. He snorted drawing a particularly loathing glare from Snape.

Suddenly, his brother bustled in, alongside a redhaired boy, both obviously out of breath. Snape turned to them, a look of near relish on his face. Harry enjoyed it greatly as Snape dressed them down.

", our newest celebrity. I can assure you right now, ridiculous cuts on our faces do NOT exept us from attending our classes on time, as you and your friend seem to believe. Twenty points from Griffindor, and you will serve a detention with me, at lunch. Take your seat." Harry took preverse pleasure in the fact that the exchange had the attention of the entire class. Henry grew red, but took his seat, mumbling under his breath about greasy nosed gits. Snape turned to adress the class.

"You are going to spending the rest of your days in here at some point, like it or not. You will be learning the intricate workings of Potions, learn to appreciate the sizzle of a softly simmering cauldron. I will teach you how to cure illnesses, remove ailments, alter forms, strengthen bodies, brew glory, bottle fame. I can even teach you to put a stopper on death. Unfortunately, most of you will flunk out, but there may be some among you able to withhold my teachings." The stare he gave them all was quite intimidating, to most. Matt looked bored. Harry was unimpressed.

Snape, suddenly realizing he was neglecting to pester the other Potter, turned, and adressed Harry.

"Mr Potter, where would I find a bezoar, and what are it's uses?" He snapped. Harry lazily looked upwards.

"In the stomach of a goat. You can use it to cure most poisons." Snape aquiested that grudgingly, with a slight nod of the head.

"For what would I use the powdered root of asphodl?" Harry didn't break the gaze, refusing to let this man cow him.

"For the Draught of the Living Dead." Snape raised a eyebrow. This Potter was much more knowledgable.

"And what does the Draught do?" He questioned.

"It puts a person in a trance so deep it stops the heart in its chest, leaving the drinker in a coma like state, until the potion wears off, which is proportional to the amount and quality of potion drunken." Snape nodded. He would let up, for now. If there was nothing else, he could always appreciate good knowledge of potions. The Draught of the Living Dead was not until the very end of the book assigned by the school, so very obviously this Potter had done the reading. He walked back to the front of the class.

"Can anyone tell me what I would use the skin of a boomslang for?" Snape highly doubted anyone would, since the Polyjuice Potion was restricted fourth year NEWT level curriculam, but he was suprised again when the boy sitting next to the smart Potter raised his hand. He called on him.

"The Polyjuice Potion, sir." Snape eyed him briefly. If his memory served, he was the transfer from America. It was quite suprising this boy would have knowledge of such advanced matierial when America was one of the countries in last place, magically. Then he abruptly recalled his last name, and mentally hit himslef for asking the question in the first place. If the Matt boy was a Cooke, then it was not entirely suprising he knew such things, coming from a family such as his. Snape's black eyes locked with Matt's brown, noth refusing to look away, before the Potions master returned to teaching the entire class how to brew a basic cold curing potion. His attention was drawn back when the boy adressed him.

"Uh, Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Mr Cooke?" The boy reached into his bag, and pulled out a small baggie. It had a yellowish film in it. "What exactly is that?" Snape asked, his curiosity overwhelming his disdain for a moment. He knew most ingrediants on sight, and he did not recognize this.

"It's skin from the giant squid." Snape's eyes widened marginally. Murmurs spread through the classroom. How the hell had the boy aquired that? The squid's skin was as tough as dragon hide! "I was wondering if it had any magical properties?"

Snape slowly shook his head. "Seeing as you are the first to ever aquire such skin, Mister Cooke, I have utterly no idea. I could preform a diagnostic, if you wished." The boy nodded, and gave it to him. Snape quickly pocketed it, vowing to preform the diagnostic potion later. This could be interesting.

The lesson went perfectly well. Snape seemed to tolerate Harry when it seemed he would neither be intimidated nor lazy in class. His potion was nearly perfect, only not perfect due to Snape's expert eyes knowing the shade of purple to be a bit off, likely due to some minor error involving the ingrediant portions or temperature of boiling. He gave him a E, since his policy prevented him from awarding O's to anything other than utterly impeccable potions, or Slytherins. Matt's potion was immaculate, gaining a instant O from the grudging professor, the only one in class, other than a few diligant Slytherins.

As they left the class, Matt adressed Harry.

"Hey, he really seemed to hate you. Your bro, too. Any reason why?" Harry shrugged.

"My dad bullied him a lot in school. I guess this is his way of payback. At least he's mostly fair. Henry got a T." Matt blinked.

"What's a T stand for?" He asked. Harry grinned.

"Troll." Harry replied, and Matt laughed uproarously.

They both quickly headed to their next class, Care of Magical Creatures. They found Hagrid teaching, to their suprise. Also, it seemed Luna was in this class. Why Harry chose to notice this, he could not really be sure himself.

They found Hagrid to be a all around likeable person, although a bit too trusting of animals that were quite a bit dangerous for a normal person. They agreed to meet him for tea on a few occasions, and Harry had to supress a snort as Matt suggested the tea NOT not be held within the Forbidden Forest. Even more funny was the fact that Hagrid looked a bit disappointed. Luna agreed to join them, having listened in on the conversation.

Hagrid finished up his lesson on fire scorpions, of which he mysteriously managed to aquire cases of. Harry made sure not to pet them or sing to them softly, despite Hagrid's urgings that they became quite amiable when done. Matt seemed utterly unafraid, though. Harry watched him discreetly kill a couple and pocket them, for some reason. Matt, when asked, simply shrugged and said he was curious. Harry wondered briefly if he was going to become a Potions freak, like Snape.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was taught by Quirrell, a odd man that Harry did not quite like, for some reason. He wore a odd turban, and spoke in nearly incompreshensable stutters. He seemed chronically afraid of everything, as well. Harry was suspicious of him the whole class. There was just something about him that threw Harry off.

When they reached Transfiguration, the only people present were the students and a large tabby cat on the desk. It was watching them intently. Much too intently to be a cat.

"McGonnagel. She's a Animagus. She's the cat." Harry whispered. Matt didn't look suprised. Neither did Harry, even as the cat morphed into the hawk eyed visage of McGonnagel, startling quite a few of the students. McGonnagel didn't overlook their lack of suprise.

"Judging by your lack of screaming and jumping around-" McGonnagel informed them tartly. "-You must have seen a Animagus before." Both boys nodded. Matt raised his hand. "Yes, Mr Cooke?"

"How do you become a Animagus?" He asked, keeping his eyes locked with hers. She gave him a hawk eyed glance, before turning and pacing to face the board.

"I do not teach that until seventh year, as it is a very dangerous and life threatening procedure. All I will tell you is that it involves a potion, and several rituals, and do not try it under any circumstances unsurpervised!" She finished, glaring at both boys steelily. They both stared at her nonchalantly. Harry caught the glance that Matt gave him though. It practically screamed, 'WE ARE TRYING IT ANYWAY!'.

And Harry agreed. Seventh year? No way was he waiting that long. Being a Animagus sounded useful. Harry agreed silently to talk after class.

Harry also secretly admitted the danger drew him. It sounded fun. After all, if you never wager a Sickle, you'll never gain a Knut, right? Matt seemed to share the same thoughts. He agreed to try to wheedle the pass to the restricted section out of one of the teachers. Harry would try as well. Both had advantages, since Harry was likely to be overlooked, and Matt was likely to be doted on due to his status as a transfer student.

The rest of the day passed uninteresting. Flitwick, their House Head, was a generally enjoyable teacher, he taught well, awarded well, and was a overall bright person to be around. Charms was a joke with him around, and everyone laughed. Harry already knew most of the charms he taught, so he could ignore most of what their teacher was saying and concentrate on more important things. Namely, getting that pass.

McGonnagel was most certainly a no-go. She would immidiately know exactly what they were going after even if they made up a plausible excuse. She would demand to come with them, and the cover would be blown.

Snape was improbable as well. He would likely wish to come with them too, simply because he would not trust Harry.

The rest of the day passed by quickly. History of Magic was easily the most boring subject he had ever encountered, so he grabbed a quill and charmed it to write on it's own before quickly falling asleep. Professor Binns didn't even notice. So Harry woke up at the end of the period with a hour of sleep under his belt, and a full days notes. Joy.

Arithmacy was all right. Professor Vector was a good teacher, and not bad to look at. He had concentrated mostly on learning spells at home, so he actually enjoyed a bit of a challenge in this class.

Herbology was...interesting, to say the least. Professor Sprout was cheery no matter what shit she was pulling out of the ground, be it a flower or a plant that would spit pus all over you before laughing and jumping straight back down into the ground. The latter of which was far more common. As long as you listened to instructions and were quick on your feet, you would do fine.

Most days passed so which. Snape seemed to grow greater tolerance towards Harry, when it became apparent he was like neither of his parents. Matt continued to get impeccable marks in Potions. When Harry asked, he said

"Runs in the family, I suppose." Matt shrugged.

Harry accepted that. He would like to meet his family. When Harry looked up the Cooke name, it showed that they ran a large, potion distributing company, named Cooke It Up, (Harry had quite the laugh about this, until Matt punched him in the gut), and were accredited to have a long line of famous alchemists and craftsmen.

Another strange thing was that Matt continued to stockpile any ingrediants mildly magical he could find. It wasn't until three days later that Snape mentioned in class that most Potions masters began stockpiling a secret supply at a young age, that Harry got it. Matt already knew this rule, and was building his supply. He also blatantly refused when Harry asked to see how much ingrediants he had aquired yet. He was always quite secretive.

Then, the broom flying day arrived.

"What you are going to learn here today is the basics of flying on a broom. This will be strictly a lecture, and a demonstration. You WILL NOT be flying around under any circumstances. None of you will be playing Quiddich, either, not until second year at the very least." Many students groaned at this. "No complaining! Flying is dangerous! You need at least a year of training. And if just one of you complains that you've already flown at home, I swear to God..." A few students shut the mouths they had been opening to say just that. Henry included. Harry took a perverse pleasure in said fact.

"Now, you will postion your good hand directly above your broom, and in a forceful voice, command it to come, UP! There will be NO mounting and flying of the brooms, do you hear me?" A chorus of mumbled yeses reached her ears, and she nodded. "Very well. Split up! One to a broom." The students did.

Harry took a place directly next to Henry, upsetting most of his overzealous followers. Harry watched amused as he failed again and again. He decided the oppourtunity was just too good to pass up.

"What's wrong Henry, realizing that a real broom is quite unlike the toy you play with at home?" He commented snidely. Henry glared at him.

"Yeah, let's see you do it, huh?" Harry just looked at him at placed his hand over his broom.

"Up." Harry didn't even shout. The broom leapt to his hand, quivering in his grasp, begging to be flown. Henry just glared some more. Harry chuckled lightly. Henry stomped off.

Near the end of the lesson, Henry finally managed to get it, although it flew up and whanged him in the eye, something that had Harry on the turf, laughing his guts out. Matt got it too, although he actually had to shout. Now, both boys were leaning back lazily on the quivering broom, Harry having shown him how to get it not to move. Luna got it too, suprisingly, and was sitting crosslegged on top on the broom, reading her pamphlet, a feat of balance neither boy was dumb enough to try to duplicate. A few other kids got it as well.

Then, Neville Longbottom accidentallly hovered off and fell, breaking his wrist. He had to be taken to the Infirmary by Madam Hooch, with dire warnings to whoever dared to try flying whilst she was gone.

Then, it all went to hell.

Henry, fed up with people surpassing him, walked over and snatched the Quibbler out of Luna's hands. He held it up.

"What's this? The Quibbler? Who reads this trash?" He held it up, flipping through some of the pages. Luna fixed him with a glare that would have made McGonnagel jealous.

"Give. It. Back. Now!" Even Harry was a bit intimidated. Luna looked like she was going to incinerate Henry on the spot. He noticed this too, and backed up. Who knew she was hiding this under all that dreamy?

"O-oh Yeah?" He stuttered, blustering. He hopped on his broom, and hovered shakily ten feet away. Some of the students gasped. Harry was unimpressed. He had done better before, at night on their father's broom. "C-come and g-get it!" Henry wobbled on his broom.

Harry made a dramatic sigh, hopping onto his broom, standing and hovering smoothly to Henry's level, not losing his balance once. Unbeknownst to all, except perhaps Luna and Matt, he had applied a sticking charm to his shoes. Matt followed his lead, but he was crouching. Henry looked poleaxed. He obviously hadn't expected anyone to actually come and get it.

"Give us the pamphlet, brother mine, before I'm forced to knock you straight out of the sky." Harry droned boredly. He held out a hand. Henry was sweating, and his thought could be read clear as day.

If he gace them the pamphlet, there was less chance of him getting hurt, or getting caught on a broom. But he would lose face if he was cowed by his non Boy-Who-Lived brother, making him lose a bit of reputation, something quite dear to him. Harry could already see the gears working in his head, and saw the outcome he was coming to. Hary sighed and mounted his broom properly as Henry reached the conclusion.

"As if!" And Henry sped off, wobbling the entire way. Harry groaned and gave pursuit, closely mirrored by Matt.

As they flew higher and higher, Henry abruptly stopped, and realized the shit he had gotten into. He was a hundred feet up, on a broom he barely knew how to fly, with two people who could actually fly on his tail, both suitably pissed.

"T-take the d-damn thing!" He yelled, and threw the pamphlet at them. Unfortunately, the throw unbalanced him, and with a scream, he began plummeting to earth. Both boys looked at eachother, before sharing a sigh.

"I'll save the retard." Matt said dejectedly, before swooping downards after him. Harry sped right after the pamphlet.

Harry watched it spral downwards, watching the pattern, before abruptly speeding up and plucking it out of the air, right before it fell into a rather large puddle. He turned to see how his friend and brother were doing.

Matt was swooping downwards, easily passing Henry in his fall, before reaching out and grabbing his robes. The broom buckled, and dipped dangerously, but Matt managed to get another, firmer handful before descending and dropping Henry, roughly five feet. Henry let out a yell as he hit the ground with a thump. Matt descended, and hopped off the broom.

"MR POTTER! MR COOKE!" Harry winced and was treated to the sight of Madam Hooch, redfacedly, striding up to them both. Harry discreetly tossed the Quibbler over to Luna, before turning to face her.

"Both of you. Follow me." She turned and marched off, Harry and Matt in close behind her.

They followed her through the hallways, widning staircases, before abruptly arriving at a place that was most certainly not the Headmaster's office. Rather, it was the Charms classroom.

"Wait here." And both boys did so, in a rather meek manner. Madam Hooch entered the classroom. They both waited for their judgement.

"Just in case she splatters us all over the Hogwarts walls, I just want to let you know...I love ya, man." Harry said, with a utterly straight face. Then, they both fell over laughing, abruptly defusing the tension. They rolled on the floors, sidesplit in laughter.

"Whoo, oh man, that was good." Matt said shakily, wiping a tear from his eye. Harry nodded, unable to speak due to the fact when he tried, giggles came out.

Madam Hooch came out, followed by Professor Flitwick. He eyed both of them. Then he gave a bright smile.

"Well, I'm not going to expel you, contrary to your belief." The boys looked incredulously at eachtother. Then back at him.

"Seriously?" They asked. He nodded.

"Seriously. What I am going to do..." The boys both waited with baited breath.

"Is made you a Seeker and Keeper."


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