CHAPTER FOUR: Flying
Author's Note: Sorry for really late post today (barely made it before 12AM eeeepp!) but at least I made it technically! Cheers!
Harry and Draco ransacked the library of all the books with information on magical scars. They spent the night pouring over information. Most of it, sadly, pertained to werewolf scars.
"These are all about how to get rid of them," Draco complained, tossing the fifth book of the night to the side.
"I guess scars trying to communicate with you is weird even by wizard standards," Harry said. "Maybe it was nothing, after all."
Draco glanced up at him. "Maybe," he conceded. "Or maybe there just isn't much information on it because your scar is the only one like it in existence. You're the only person who's ever survived a killing curse, Harry. And each scar has different qualities depending on the spell that caused it."
Harry sighed.
"Look, over Christmas break you should come to mine and we can go through my Dad's library. Maybe there's something there," Draco suggested.
Harry looked up with a surprised expression. "Are you – I mean – I can come to yours for Christmas?" Harry gave him a dumbfounded look.
"Why not?" Draco replied, smiling but not looking up from his book as he turned the pages.
Harry smiled quietly to himself. The rest of the night was spent in peaceful, companionable silence.
"Wake up!"
Draco groaned as he was roused from his deep sleep, burying himself further into his pillow.
"Draco, come on! Or we'll go without you!" a voice that was familiar, but not familiar enough to immediately put a face to it, rang through his ears.
"Go without me," Draco growled through the pillow.
Stephen Cornfoot, now a first year Ravenclaw, snorted and stopped shaking the Slytherin.
"Fine, Harry and I are going to go play Quidditch in the dead of the night by ourselves then."
Draco shot upright. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled without thought, eyes narrowed as he took in his surroundings in the darkened room.
Harry stood off to the side, observing a broom in his hand that Stephen had clearly given him.
"How did you get in here?" Draco asked as he pushed out of bed, rubbing at his eyes. He glanced at Stephen accusingly.
Stephen shrugged. "A Ravenclaw has his ways."
Draco hastily got ready, retrieving his shrunken Nimbus 2000 and performing a quick unshrinking charm.
Harry looked between the both of them. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Stephen?"
"Always trust strangers that wake you up in the middle of the night suggesting you do something that could get you expelled. Ravenclaw wisdom for you, Harry." Stephen winked at him conspiratorially.
Draco smirked, Harry gave a sheepish smile. "I'll remember that, thanks Stephen," he replied playfully.
"Any time. Now let's go, and keep quiet – both of you."
The boys sleuthed through the halls, narrowly avoiding a patrolling Gryffindor prefect by the name of Percy Weasley.
"This would be much easier if we were invisible," Stephen said.
"It'd be much easier if you weren't a giant," Draco corrected.
Stephen cuffed him on the shoulder, glaring. "I prefer to think of it as everyone else is simply far too small."
The boys slowly made their way out to the Quidditch pitch. Harry stopped and looked around in awe once they got there. Flags rippled in the night wind.
"Now Harry, let me explain the wondrous game of... Quidditch," Stephen whispered mysteriously, grinning.
"Now Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each team. Three of them are called Chasers."
Harry nodded in thought, and from his robe pockets Stephen removed a shrunken ball. He performed an unshrinking charm, and Harry made a mental note to learn the spell himself. When unshrunk, the ball was about the size of a football (an American soccer ball).
"This ball's called the Quaffle. The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Unlike the Snitch or the Bludgers I will be showing you, it does not fly on its own and has to be kept in the air by the players' hands. Ten points is awarded to the scoring team every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops on the opposing team's side. Follow me?"
Harry nodded shortly. "Ten points every time a Chaser gets the Quaffle through one of the other team's hoops."
Stephen nodded. "Good. Now there's another player on each side, who's called the Keeper. They have to fly around their side's hoops and stop the other team from scoring."
"Sort of like a goalie," Harry interjected.
The wizards shot him identical dumbfounded expressions.
"Nevermind. Okay, got it, Keepers block the other team from scoring."
Stephen nodded, smiling. He reached again into his robes and unshrunk a shuddering, shaking ball and a short baseball bat. He handed the bat to Harry. "I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do. The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two beaters on each team – I'm going to be a beater for Ravenclaw next year - it's the Beater's job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team."
As he finished this sentence, Stephen tossed the angry ball right at Harry's face. Harry, his heart rate spiking, took a mighty swing at the fast-approaching Bludger. It cracked loudly against the wood, and shot off into the distance before spinning midair and rushing right at the nearest person, which happened to be Stephen. Stephen cast a shrinking charm on the ball as it approached him, and caught it solidly in the palm of his hand.
"Nice hit, Potter. You'd make a fair beater," he said cheerfully, smiling at him.
Harry glared a bit. "You tossed it at my face," he snapped.
"But you hit it," Stephen pointed out with a shrug. He held his hand out for the Quaffle and the bat, shrunk them both, and placed the shrunken objects back into his robe pockets.
"Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker," Stephen continued. Harry finally resigned from his glaring and continued listening with interest. "This is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's extremely hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. A game ends the second the Snitch is caught. So, obviously enough, if you have a good enough Seeker, you can win almost every game."
Harry extended a hand carefully toward the shimmering golden orb. It fluttered its wings gently, the moonlight reflecting off its surface.
"It's beautiful," Harry said idly.
Draco, making his presence known once more, began to mount his broom. "What do you say we go for a short fly, then?" he said, eyes lighting up.
Stephen smiled broadly, tucking the Snitch out of sight to Harry's dismay.
"How about it, Harry?" Stephen said, looking at the boy.
Harry snatched his borrowed broom up from the ground, grinning widely. "Let's go!"
"Keep your mouth shut and you won't swallow any bug- ugh." Stephen coughed a bit, massaging his throat with a scowl on the final word.
Harry pressed his lips together, a smile tugging sharply at the corners of his mouth. He looked down at the ground beneath them. It was a surprisingly natural feeling, flying. "Hey Draco!" Harry called to the boy, who was up above, drifting slowly higher. "Race around the pitch?" he asked.
Draco peered down. "Are you sure about that?" he asked. "You've only just got on. I really would feel bad racing against such an inexperienced flyer," he taunted subtly, raising both eyebrows.
Harry narrowed his eyes with a grin. "It's all right if you're too chicken," he said casually.
Draco took a steep dive down on his broom, pulling up just next to him. "Well let's do it then," he said sharply. Harry laughed.
Stephen agreed to be the judge and situated his broom at the designated start and finish line, which was the right side's middle hoop.
Draco and Harry leaned close to their brooms side by side. Harry laid nearly flat against his own. It twitched irritably with the need to go. Draco leaned just slightly forward in a casual, almost bored manner. His shiny, Nimbus 2000 was recently polished and reflecting in the moonlight. Harry's old, school broom was thinner with superficial scratches marring the surface, and some cracking at the top, the bristles at the end fraying badly.
"On your marks," Stephen announced loudly, "get set," Draco leaned closer to his own broom now, in a more serious way, "GO!"
The brooms shot off like rockets, the wind hissing behind them. Draco's broom's superior design and new quality gave it quite the edge, giving him an obvious advantage. Harry lagged behind, and as they passed the left side's hoop he began flying higher and higher in the air. Draco peered up at him curiously. As they approached the finish line – Stephen, that is – Harry laid flat enough to almost be a part of his broom, and took part in a nearly ninety degree dive downward, angled right at the Ravenclaw.
Draco laid against his broom as Harry's broom picked up speed from the steep dive, but Harry had timed it quite well. Having two options – to pull back or to fly straight into Harry's broomstick and topple them both over – Draco braked hard, pulling up the front of his broom sharply to give Harry's dangerously fast moving broom room to topple directly into the unsuspecting Ravenclaw finish line.
Stephen and Harry toppled toward the ground, both grappling desperately at their broomsticks and struggling to pull their bodies back on board. Harry managed to swing his legs back over the edge, and grabbed Stephen's hand before he could continue to fall, helping him back on to his own broom with some struggle.
Draco flew over slowly, a surprised expression plastered across his face.
Harry panted breathlessly, a wicked grin consuming his features. "I won!" he declared.
Stephen scoffed. "I think I, as the judge, should have the privilege to deduct points for nearly murdering me," he huffed irritably.
Harry smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that, I didn't-"
"-Think it through. Yes, I noticed. Flying seems to make a Gryffindor out of you," he sniped.
Harry sulked. "At least I didn't let you fall!" he protested.
Draco shook his head. Stephen nodded slowly as Harry's grin began to fade.
"You're a ruddy good flier, though," Stephen added after a pause.
Harry beamed. "Really?"
Stephen nodded enthusiastically. "Not seen that much raw talent in… well anyone, actually. Never seen anyone fly like that their first time in the air. Harry, you were brilliant!" he yelled now, over his momentary fear of dying a bloody death on the ground of a Quidditch pitch. He patted Harry solidly on the shoulder, beaming widely before something seemed to occur to him and he sulked.
"I was hoping the Slytherins would actually get a bad team for once this year, since so many of their best players were seventh years," Stephen said.
Draco sulked a bit over his loss and Harry turned to him, eyes glittering with excitement.
"Do you think I'll make the team, Draco? Do you think we could be on it together?" Harry asked, still breathless from his fly.
"Make the team? Only an idiot wouldn't put you on their team, Potter," Stephen cut in as Draco opened his mouth to respond.
Draco glared at Stephen. Harry looked between them both, shivering with excitement. "Could we try a real game?" Harry asked eagerly.
"We've not anywhere near enough players," Draco replied shortly.
"We could play a little game of Catch the Snitch though, if you were interested," Stephen offered.
Draco perked up at this. "I'm in," he said eagerly, a smile lighting his features.
"Oh, me too!" Harry said with a smile. He took his broom around them in a circle restlessly.
Stephen removed the Snitch from his pocket once more. "I'd be a rubbish Seeker," he said off-handedly.
Harry tilted his head. "Why?" he asked.
Stephen shook his head. "Just not my area. Hitting Bludgers at people, now that's fun. With a correctly timed and placed hit you can take down an entire team, with just a swing of a bat. Chasing down this ornery little thing that's near impossible to see, the entire game? Not rewarding enough."
Draco beamed. "I love it," he said eagerly.
Stephen dropped the Snitch, and its wings took off like that of a hummingbird's while it hovered in place, flicking in between all three player's teasingly.
"On the count of three," Draco said.
Stephen nodded. "One," he said.
"Two," Draco said.
The Snitch bolted, high into near cloud-cover, leaving no visible trail.
"Three." As Stephen breathed the final word, both Slytherins were off, Harry half a second sooner, straight into the clouds.
Draco's broom, naturally, pushed off faster and overtook Harry's in no time. Both boys shivered as they flew through the clouds, a damp feeling settling over their clothes. Harry's glasses fogged up horribly, and he rubbed at them with his sleeve, narrowing his eyes as he looked about.
Draco sat above the cloud coverage, shivering viciously, his teeth chattering as he looked back and forth, eyes peeled for a glint of gold.
Harry looked back and forth before diving down through the clouds once more, and peering back and forth through the open sky.
There, in the distance, just under the cloud barrier, the moon's rays reflecting and dancing off of its body, hovered the Snitch. It seemed to look at Harry for one very long second before Harry's broom shot at it, Harry glued nearly flat to its surface. His eyes stung from the force of the wind.
The Snitch didn't move. Then, finally, it began to sort of float back, closer to the castle walls.
Draco dropped suddenly through the clouds just above it, and it took a sharp dive. Harry and Draco raced for it, Draco going almost straight down, Harry at a sharp forward decline.
It flew closer and closer to the ground. Draco pulled up slowly as they approached, unwilling to barrel teeth-first into the ground.
Harry deepened the dive, and swooped his hand down. Cool metal met his fingers. He pulled the front of the broom hard and sharp into the air, his toes scraping the ground as he pulled up just in time.
Draco dropped beside him, lips parted in awe.
Harry panted breathlessly. Both boys had damp hair from the clouds. Harry's naturally messy locks looked hardly changed, Draco's usually meticulously groomed hair however flew in every which way now. Both boys had red cheeks as they panted sharply and quickly.
"Great catch," Draco finally said between gasps. Harry smiled so hard it made his cheeks hurt.
"Thanks," he gasped.
Stephen flew over casually, clearly having never planned on trying.
"Now that, that is what I'm talking about. You nearly ate the ground trying to catch that – now what person in their right mind does that? No Slytherin I know. You've got guts, Harry Potter. That, or you're just really stupid. But what is the word bravery but a kinder word for idiocy?" Stephen mused.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Cornfoot!" the sharp call of Professor McGonagall cut through the conversation. All of the boys' blood seemed to turn to ice in their veins as the slowly turned their brooms to face the stern looking professor in her pajamas.
"You three," she said very seriously. "Get down here, now."
"Can you believe?" Draco gasped.
"No, no I can't," Harry said, eyes wide as they shut the dorm room behind them. "I mean-"
"I know, it's-"
"Professor Snape, I mean I never imagined-"
"I know, but-"
"We're on the Quidditch team!" they cried in unision.
"I mean, we will be, as soon as we talk to Flint," Draco added hastily.
Harry shivered with excitement, flopping back-first on to his bed with a sigh. "What time is it?" he finally asked.
Draco glanced at the clock. "Four in the morning," he replied.
Harry let his eyes slip closed. "Hmm."
Draco plopped face-first on to his own bed, exhaling into his pillow.
"Sleep, now, I think, is good," Harry grunted from somewhere to Draco's left.
"Uhgnf," Draco agreed.
And the boys let the heavy darkness under their eyelids sweep them away.
Morning came soon enough, and Draco rose slowly from his bed, a headache throbbing in his temples. As he passed Harry's bed, he pulled the boy's pillow out from under his head and dropped it on the floor. "Wake up," Draco grunted, rubbing sleepily at his eyes as he trudged toward the bathroom.
Harry shot his head up, wincing a bit and covering his eyes as his head gave an angry pulse. His stomach rumbled with hunger as Draco shut the bathroom door behind himself.
He sighed deeply, laying his head back against the mattress. He shut his eyes for a few minutes while the water ran from the bathroom, opening them again when the door was flung open to reveal a more conscious, though if possible even more grumpy, Draco Malfoy.
Harry clambered out of bed and sidled past him without a word, shuffling into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.
Draco grabbed some more books from the side of the bed, eyes scanning the pages of the one on the top of the pile.
If he read the word werewolf one more time he swore he was going to be sick.
The bathroom door flung open with a bang that startled both boys, Harry jumping a bit at the force of his own push.
"Let's go get breakfast," the green-eyed boy declared. He then gave his head a small shake, droplets of water flying off of his damp black locks.
Draco glared at the world. "All right."
"Good," Harry replied.
The grumpy Slytherins left their dorm and wandered into the common room. Harry was greeted by a few quiet first-years, to which he waved with a brief smile.
Draco ignored them all, walking out the exit quickly.
"Oi!" a hiss greeted Harry as the door behind Draco snapped closed, followed by a firm hand on his shoulder as he went to exit the room himself.
Harry glanced up behind him with wide, startled and confused eyes. Towering over him stood a tall, lanky, troll-like boy with a mean sort of permanent sneer on his face.
"Marcus Flint," he introduced himself. "I hear you and the blond runt are going to be my new problems. If you suck, we will injure you both on the field so we can replace you, clear? You get in the way at practice, you get knocked off your broom. You don't show up for practice, you're off the team. Professor Snape says I have to deal with you two so I will, but don't expect any special treatment because you're Harry Potter."
With that, the older boy strode off. Harry watched him go in angry silence. He opened his mouth to retort before glancing back at the exit, and remembering what the prefect and Draco had said about making enemies.
He decided the malicious looking boy was not a good enemy to make if he was going to be his Quidditch captain.
So, Harry turned to the door, and left for breakfast.
When Harry reached the entrance to the Great Hall, he was greeted by an angry looking Malfoy.
"Oh, hi Draco," Harry said tiredly.
"Took you long enough," Draco drawled. Harry smiled in response.
With a roll of Draco's grey eyes, they entered the Great Hall and meandered over to their seats at the Slytherin table.
Harry filled his plate with food as one of the first year Slytherin girls who sat across from him watched Draco with wide eyes.
Draco had set his book on his plate, ignoring the food and sifting through page after page, shaking his head in disappointment every few minutes.
"Draco Malfoy," the girl finally said in a quiet voice.
Draco's chin jerked up, eyes narrowing at the girl. "Yes?" he said shortly.
"I'm Pansy Parkinson," she introduced herself.
"Okay," Draco said. He returned to his book.
Pansy beamed, and she and the friend next to her began giggling cheerfully.
"Draco?" Harry said. The blond did not look up. Harry shrugged, resigning into silence for a moment.
"Are you going to eat, Draco?" Harry asked curiously as he nibbled on a piece of bacon.
Draco looked up, as if noticing the food around him for the first time. He looked to Harry, opened his mouth as if to reply, before closing it and nodding mutely, stealing a fruit tart off of Harry's tray, as they were all gone from the original plate.
Harry looked to the place on his plate where his sweet had been stolen, opened his mouth as if to protest before snapping it closed, and ducking his head.
"You aren't bothered I took your fruit tart?" Draco asked shortly, looking almost confused.
Harry shrugged. "Well, I can share," he said. He then smiled cheerfully at the befuddled blond boy.
Draco shrugged, taking a dainty bite of the tart and chewing thoughtfully as he continued to read.
Harry's scar gave a curious prickle, and as he looked over to the Professors' Table, it gave a sharp burn. Harry gasped a little in pain, his hand reaching up to gently probe the skin. It was hot to the touch.
Staring right at him, eyes wide, were two Professors. The first being Professor Quirrel. The second was Professor Snape, whose gaze continuously shot between Harry and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
Harry met Professor Quirrel's gaze, and for half a second, the trembling ceased and Harry could have sworn that his expression morphed to one of unparalleled, vicious, burning hatred and rage. Harry felt his very bones chill. But as soon as he blinked, the look was gone, and Professor Quirrel was nervously tittering to the Professor to his other side.
Harry was just about to remove his gaze from the table as the Headmaster himself pinned the boy with an intense look that one could only label powerful curiosity.
Then, the blue-eyed and greying man lifted his cup in a sort of toast, offered a small smile, and sipped from his goblet.
"Harry!" Draco snapped, elbowing him sharply in the ribs.
Harry coughed a bit, his head spinning around to face the irritated Slytherin.
"I've been trying to get your attention a whole minute, been shouting your name to what might as well have been an empty shell," Draco complained.
"Oh, sorry," Harry replied quietly, his eyes shifting back to Professor Quirrel for just an instant before focusing intently on the other boy.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Well, anyway, look at what I've found!" Draco cried. He promptly shoved a book into the other boy's lap in excitement.
Harry looked down shortly. "Another book, oh joy," Harry moaned. "I do honestly think I got my fill last night."
Draco scowled. "It's important! And this one, well it's not as rubbish as the others. But fine," Draco snapped, snatching the book from the black-haired boy's grasp, "I'll just return it to the library then-"
"No, no, all right, how about we go over whatever it is you've found - what is it you've found?"
Draco leaned close, whispering conspiratorially, "It's about your scar."
Harry's eyes popped wide. "Oh, all right," he whispered back, realizing they had gathered the attention of some of the surrounding students. "Let's look over it in Potions or when we get the time?" Harry suggested, looking to the interested crowd.
Draco looked to them as well, nodding and stuffing the book out of sight.
"I'm exhausted," Draco finally said, after several moments of both poking at their food moodily.
"Mm," Harry mumbled sleepily in response. He then quietly rested his forehead on the table, closing his eyes.
