Year 1 – The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 4 – Chasing the Wind

Chapter Summary: Autumn is well underway, and Harry is neck deep in conspiracies and quidditch, and some unusual confrontations besides.

Author: Khodexus

Rated T: For occasional graphic concepts and atmosphere, and very mild violence. No cussing, no adult situations.

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights for the worlds or characters in Harry Potter. Those rights are owned by Scholastic Publishing Inc and J.K. Rowling. I do own the rights to my original characters depicted here, in as far as they differ from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling.

It was on Monday that Harry finally had an opportunity to implement his plan. At breakfast, he was a little anxious, glancing toward the windows now and then waiting for the swarm of owls to deliver the morning mail. Draco noticed his odd behavior, of course.

"What's got into you?" He asked around a mouthful of biscuit.

"Nothing." Harry shrugged, but movement caught his eye outside the windows. He stopped eating long enough to confirm that the owls were indeed on their way.

They swooped around the chamber, depositing packages. Harry looked for Hedwig, carrying a small round package wrapped in brown paper. He smiled to himself, as she dove down to the Gryffindor table and deposited her burden in front of a rather startled Neville Longbottom.

"Isn't that… Hedwig?" Draco asked, following Harry's gaze.

"Hush!" Harry admonished his friend. He hadn't realized Draco knew his owl well enough to identify her among the press. Neville certainly didn't seem to, as he opened the package to find his remembrall returned safe and sound.

"Don't tell…" Harry turned back to Draco, but then a fancy ornate envelope was deposited in front of Harry by the Malfoy's eagle owl.

"What the…?" Harry saw the letter was addressed to him, so he quickly opened it, and scanned the neatly penned words.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I have obtained permission from the governors and the Hogwarts administration for you to own your own broom. This special exception is for you alone, and it would only stir up envy and trouble if everyone else realized right away that this exception has been made, therefore I advise you to be discreet when procuring your new broom. If you need any assistance determining which broom to buy, or how to get it delivered to the school, my son, Draco, would no doubt be delighted to aid you. You might also ask your classmate, Peter Connolly, or Professor Severus Snape.

Sincerely,

Lord Governor, Lucius Malfoy

"My dad got you permission to own a broom?!" Draco exclaimed, though Harry quickly shushed him. Draco sounded as shocked as Harry, and perhaps a touch bitter. "He told me to be 'patient', how come I don't get a broom?"

"I wish we could all get brooms." Vincent muttered as he and Greg watched Harry from across the table.

"I guess it's because I'm on the quidditch team." Harry observed. "I'll let you guys borrow it though, I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for us all to try it out." The four of them got up quickly to go to their rooms, their interest in breakfast banished by excited thoughts of procuring Harry a broom, a topic Draco warmed to quickly, despite his annoyance at not getting his own.

As for asking for help; Harry already knew Peter Connolly, because Peter was the reserve beater on the Slytherin quidditch team. Severus Snape, however, was not someone Harry was likely to go to for help, though Draco offered to talk to him on Harry's behalf if necessary.

"I've always liked Nimbus brooms." Greg told Harry while Draco was getting a pair of books on quidditch and broomsticks from his trunk.

"Oh?" Harry wasn't sure what made Nimbus brooms different from other brooms, but he was certain he was about to find out.

"You could get a Nimbus Two-thousand." Draco mused when he returned to the Slytherin common room.

"I think I saw that in Diagon Alley." Harry agreed, "One of the boys said it was the fastest broom in the world."

"The Nimbus Two-thousand is considered the fastest commercial broom in the world." Draco informed him, "Even the Cleansweep Ten, which is newer, is still slower, though Cleansweeps have excellent turning."

"Which is more important to a seeker, speed or turning?" Harry wondered aloud.

"I wonder if we could get you a Firebolt, they are custom order only, I heard they're working on a new model." Draco mused.

"We need a catalogue, or something." Harry suggested. None of them had anything like that, so they decided to ask Peter Connolly, who they wouldn't have a chance to speak with until the break for lunch.

"A lot of people use clean sweeps, they're fast and reliable brooms." Draco told Harry between classes, "Nimbuses are racing brooms in general, but a lot of professional players use them for quidditch."

"You've said Firebolts are pretty amazing, right?" Vincent asked.

"That's true, Firebolts are in a league of their own, but they're expensive." Draco agreed.

They continued talking about various broom models between classes. Finally, Draco and Harry found a chance to talk with Peter. He not only knew how they could order a broomstick, but had a manual which showed current prices on many different models, and even had basic stats on their performance.

"Take a look, they're sorted by company, and there are sample order forms in the back as well." Peter sat with them in the common room and watched as they perused his magazine. They scanned through the cleansweeps, which Draco insisted weren't good enough for Harry, and soon were looking at Draco's second favorite broom, the Firebolt.

"Firebolts really are fast." Harry observed, reading that they had a top speed between 120 and 150 miles per hour. "What's a hundred twenty miles in kilometers?" Harry wondered aloud, neither Malfoy nor Connolly seemed to know, and Harry wasn't feeling up to doing the math himself either, so he shrugged, and moved on, "Why's the speed listed as a range though, none of the other brooms list it like that?"

"It's because Firebolts are custom built. They don't make standardized models like the Cleansweep or Comet companies." Connolly explained. "If you bought one, it might not even look like the one in the photo." He added, "My brother says Ireland is strongly considering putting in an order of Firebolts, but they can be an expensive investment."

"I wonder how much it would cost me." Harry wasn't exactly sure how much he had in his vault, and he still had a little trouble with the values of the different coins, and how it compared to things like brooms.

"Probably too much for a first year." Connolly told them. Harry watched the rider on the page performing some very intricate death defying maneuvers. It should have frightened him, but it merely served to make him want it more. He already knew he loved flying, any sort of flying, whether tricky and dangerous or not. After a moment he turned the page to look at the Nimbus brooms.

"Wait, what's that?" Draco pointed to an entry at the end of the Nimbus section. "Two-thousand One? But that's not in stores yet, I heard they were still working on it…"

"It's available for pre-order!" Connolly gasped, as he read down the page.

"How new is this book?" Harry wondered.

"Oh, it updates automatically whenever the companies change their public information. I haven't even seen this one before, so it must have only just become available." Peter explained.

Yeah, but how long will I have to wait? Thought Harry.

They spent much of their lunch hour looking over brooms, and Harry thought about it all throughout his first Quidditch practice, where he was surprised to learn that Harriet McClaren hadn't made the team, leaving them with no reserve seeker. All the other reserve positions had been filled, and Harry wondered what had happened after he'd left tryouts.

After practice, he had a free period, and spent it looking over the magazine in more depth. By the time they finished dinner, he was able to inform Draco, Greg, Vince and Peter that he had decided he wanted a Wind Chaser from the Ellerby & Spudmore company. Statistically it seemed to be designed for a seeker, with excellent speed and handling. It also had charms for ease of control without hands, and to prevent the rider from falling off at high altitudes.

Then of course, came the part Harry was dreading, asking Snape. Draco said he could ask Snape for assistance without mentioning it was for Harry. "He'll know it's for me, who else do you know whose got special permission to own a broom during his first year?"

Draco frowned, but then suggested, "We could ask Connolly to talk to Snape."

"We'd have to tell him why." Harry shook his head. "No, I'll talk to him. Maybe… maybe he'll be in a good mood." He didn't hold out much hope, though. Harry waited until he had some time free from classes.

Later that afternoon, Harry found himself outside Snape's office towards the end of his lunch break. He was not looking forward to this discussion, but he told himself he could handle it, and that it would be easier than he expected. Several minutes passed, and he was strongly considering turning around and walking away when the door opened, and the Potions Master did not look surprised to see him standing there.

"Well, Potter?" he sneered, not hesitating even an instant as he glared down at Harry.

"I was asked to speak with you." Harry said, speaking fast before he had a chance to think about what he was saying and possibly lose his nerve. "Mr. Malfoy said you could help me."

Snape didn't immediately snap at him, or send him away, but regarded him for a moment before stepping back and holding the door open for Harry. "Very well. Come inside and tell me what this is about." His words were no kinder, but there was something new there. Had Harry sparked his curiosity, perhaps?

Harry entered the room looking for a place to sit, and sat down in the only available chair. His eyes wandered the room briefly, the walls were covered with shelves containing different colored potions, many of which had odd things floating inside. "You said Lucius sent you to me?" Snape prompted, when Harry didn't speak right away.

He stood in front of his desk watching Harry with his cold black eyes, doing little to make Harry feel less uncomfortable. "I've been given special permission…" Harry began, his mouth a bit dry, but determined to go on, "To own a broom. But I can't leave the school, and Mr. Malfoy said you could help me order one."

"I see." He turned away, and Harry felt a surge of disappointment when it seemed Snape wasn't going to help him after all. But then the professor opened a drawer on his desk and retrieved a small stack of papers. "You need to fill out an order for the bank to release funds to the company you wish to buy your broom from, unless you'd prefer to pay K.O.D., though that is considered tacky especially with a purchase of any significant value." Snape's sneer told Harry that he fully believed Harry was that tacky. "You will also need to submit a purchase order for the broom itself via owl, a matter which does not overly trouble most." Again Harry was certain his teacher was implying a rather poor opinion of Harry's abilities.

Harry managed to hold his tongue as Snape regarded him in silence for a moment. "Here is a standard bank order you may fill out." He handed Harry one sheet of parchment. "Once that is finished I will assist you with your purchase order. Do you know which broom you wish to purchase?"

"A Wind Chaser." Harry said, holding onto that goal in his mind to keep from snapping back at Snape's stinging remarks.

"An… interesting choice." The word 'interesting' sounded rather unflattering, coming from Snape.

"It's a fine broom." Harry couldn't help himself this time, but quickly subsided and turned to the parchment in front of him, and began to fill out the note, starting with the amount the broom would cost.

"We shall see." Snape stood and watched over Harry's shoulder, creating an itch at the back of his neck. "None of the school brooms are adequate for Harry Potter then?"

"That's not…" Harry bit his cheek, and tried to focus on his paperwork.

"Perhaps you hadn't thought to borrow one from an older player. Is something second hand also unsatisfactory?"

"Why do you hate me?!" Harry cried out suddenly, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment and resentment.

Snape didn't answer right away, but neither did Harry back down.

"You're an arrogant foolish boy with little regard for the rules or respect for your betters." The Potions Master said at last, "But… I don't hate you." He added when Harry ground his teeth. "That would imply you had some level of importance. It is merely my job to ensure my students learn their… limitations."

Harry didn't think that was much better, and he had half a mind to storm out right then. He didn't have to sit here and stand for this. But then, that would be giving the professor the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten under Harry's skin. So he ignored his teacher while he forced himself to finish the bank order then started on his purchase order for the broom.

"Your father always wasted his money on useless things as well." Snape commented as he used a spell to copy the sample order form from the catalogue onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. Then Harry filled out all the lines, ignoring Snape's occasional snide comments. "It's no surprise that you would squander your family's savings in the same manner." Eventually – having received no further replies from Harry – Snape simply stopped talking all together.

When Harry had finished, Snape said, "All that is left is to deliver the letters. Do you think you can manage that?"

"I can handle that just fine." Harry retorted in a low tone as he rose to his feet. He took his borrowed magazine, and his two forms, and headed swiftly out the door.

By the time he reached his dorm room, he felt quite a bit better. He'd survived Snape, and he was ready to order his broom. He slipped the parchments into an envelope then headed to the owlery to send it off with Hedwig. He was thoroughly looking forward to trying out his new broom, wishing it could arrive tomorrow.

When Friday came around, Harry was still waiting eagerly for the post just as he had each morning that week, and today his patience was rewarded when he saw a pair of large owls swoop through the windows carrying a bulging, vaguely broom-shaped package. It landed directly in front of Harry and he almost tore it open right then, but remembered Lucius' warning not to flaunt it, so he tucked it down by his feet.

"If it were me, I'd open it right here." Draco whispered, "Imagine the looks on Finnigan's and Weasley's faces!" he grinned over at the Gryffindors in question, who scowled back.

"I don't want to make a fuss. Besides, I'm sure they'll find out soon enough." Harry replied.

"Is that your new broom?" Greg leaned across the table to ask.

"Shush, don't make a fuss." Draco hushed his two friends as Harry finished the last of his food before getting up.

Greg and Vince caught up to Draco and Harry after wolfing down a few more sweets, and they started across the entrance hall toward the stairs that led down to the dungeons.

Seamus and Ron had apparently not been fooled, however, and had followed them out of the great hall.

"What've you got there, Potter?" Ron sang, catching up to them as they approached the grand staircase.

" 'Sa broom, in't it?" Seamus chimed in. "One o' tha teachers got tha' remembrall back from ye, and ya jus' had ta go and get yer hands on somethin' else yer not allowed to have, din'cha?"

"The teacher's didn't…" Draco snapped, but just at that moment, they were interrupted by the appearance of Professor Quirrel.

"Is s-s-s-some-th-thing… something wrong?" The professor was standing at the edge of the landing on the way up to the first floor, and regarded the four of them as nervously as ever.

"Potter's got a broom!" Seamus crowed, sounding certain that he was getting them in the worst sort of trouble.

"Y-yes he has." Quirrel agreed, seeing the broom-shaped package in Harry's hands.

"Firs' years aren't allowed ter have their own brooms." Seamus reminded their teacher.

"Yes, I know. Th-that's why D-dumble-bumble…" He coughed, "The headmaster told us about the… the s-special c-circ-cumstances for young Mister P-Potter." He squeaked, then made an odd sound, like a hiccup.

"Oh, is that Mr. Potter's new broom?" said their Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout, excitedly. She was a small round woman with a pleasant face who always seemed to have a bit of dirt on her somewhere, and a healthy rosy glow to her cheeks. She was approaching the stairs from behind Ron and Seamus just in time to rescue Quirrel from having to stutter through any more explanations.

Seamus and Ron were both gaping at what Quirrel had just said regarding the circumstances of Harry's broom, but they weren't entirely ready to give up yet.

"Harry can't be allowed to have a broom, even if he is on the Slytherin team…" Ron objected, though his tone wasn't as bold as it had been a moment ago.

"Dumbledore made an exception for him." Professor Sprout explained. "Though you shouldn't be showing it off here. Off with you." The two teachers continued on their way, and Draco led the group past the main staircase to the passage leading down to the basements before the two Gryffindors could make any further trouble.

"I told you their faces would be fantastic, didn't I?" Draco began as they entered the Slytherin common room. He no longer seemed to mind that Harry had gotten permission to own a broom while he hadn't.

The four of them gathered around a table in the middle of the room while Harry ripped the paper off his package to reveal a sleek white-handled broom, every bristle in its tail neatly in place. The writing etched near the tip of the shaft read 'Wind Chaser' in dark brown lettering burned into the wood.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Harry said. He couldn't imagine anything more wonderful.

"Wish we could take it for a spin right now." Draco sighed, looking at it dreamily. "But we can't be late to Snape's class. I may ask for one of these for my birthday." He added, "All I've got at home is a Nimbus Seventeen Forty-Seven."

"Don't worry, you can borrow it and practice on it when there's time." Harry assured him. "You're right though, let's put this away and head to class."

Harry stowed the broom in his trunk and gathered everything they'd need before heading off to doubles potions, where no doubt Finnigan, Thomas, and Ron Weasley would try to make their lives miserable, not that they needed any new excuse.

"Harry." Draco began on the way to the next class, "I forgot to ask you why you sent that remembrall thing back to Longbottom… Ha! No pun intended." He chuckled at his own joke. "I thought you were going to leave it up a tree or something."

"That was your idea, not mine. I only held onto it because I knew if someone else would have grabbed it, they'd've done something really nasty, just like that."

"It would have been funny though." Draco insisted as they made their way to their dorm room.

"Save your pranks for Finnigan and his friends. Neville never did anything to us, and I'm tired of people picking on him, just because he seems more timid than the other Gryffindors. What's the point anyways?"

Draco thought about that a moment, then shrugged. "I guess… it's just sort of a habit. But Finnigan does deserve it more, doesn't he?" Harry smiled at him, glad that his friend could see things from his perspective. All this fighting and taunting was getting a little old, in Harry's mind, not that he expected Finnigan to give up anytime soon. Draco smiled, and chuckled a little to himself, "Finnigan and Weasley are going to be so jealous now that they know you've got a broom." He added loud enough for Greg and Vince to hear as they trailed behind them.

"Serves them right, I suppose, always trying to make trouble." Harry agreed.

The next few weeks passed by quickly. Harry was enjoying his quidditch practices with his new broom so much that even Professor Snape's jabs and snide remarks couldn't annoy him in potions class. Harry was doing well enough in Snape's class that Snape had only found a few excuses to take away another five points from Harry by the end of the month, and he'd given Draco a total of twenty, so all in all they were ahead.

Seamus' hated that Harry was on the Slytherin team and got to own a broom in the process. He was nasty to them all the time now, and while Harry would have preferred to avoid problems; between Seamus' jealousy, and Draco's smart mouth, they managed to get into trouble anyway. Professor McGonagall caught them nearly fighting in the halls with Seamus, Dean, and Ron, and took five points from both their houses.

Harry and his friends began discussing ways to get back at the three of them without breaking rules, or at least without getting caught. Draco wanted to challenge them to a night time duel, then tip off Filch that they were out of bed past curfew, but that led to a discussion on wizard dueling, which Harry knew absolutely nothing about, and they soon forgot about their revenge plans as Draco began teaching a rapt Harry about the history and etiquette of dueling along with some very basic dueling spells.

Harry woke up one Thursday morning nearly two months later to the smell of pumpkin pies and other delicious things. He realized with a start that it was Halloween, and he was amazed when they went to breakfast. The whole castle seemed to be in a celebratory spirit, even the ghosts were festive as they charged down the halls on phantom horses.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts that day, Quirrel seemed to be in a rare mood, and he made it through the lesson without getting faint or stuttery whenever anything interesting came up. He talked mainly about some of the less terrifying creatures which inhabited the mountains in this part of the country. They learned a jinx which could be used to stun certain things that normally were too stupid to react properly to normal stunning jinxes, such as trolls, gremlins, and drakes.

Harry did particularly well in quidditch practice, and laughed along with the rest of them when Terrence, one of their chasers, starting tossing around quaffle sized pumpkins enchanted to insult whoever caught them. Marcus didn't even scold him, as he might have another day, for distracting them from 'serious practice'.

When they arrived for the banquet that evening, the great hall was decked out with floating pumpkins lit by candles, and the food was just about the best Harry could ever remember tasting. The festivities were interrupted when Professor Quirrel sprinted into the room screaming, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know." then fainted straight away. After a few panicked moments, Dumbledore silenced them all and sent them with their prefects to their house common rooms, while the teachers went to deal with the troll.

Harry's group spent some time going over what they knew about Trolls, and one of the older students leant them a book on trolls, which they were surprised to learn mentioned their defense against the dark arts teacher, Professor Quirrel. "You think he's alright?" Harry asked Draco, thinking of the way he'd fainted in the great hall.

"I wouldn't worry. It says here he's one of the leading experts on dealing with trolls." Draco shrugged it off.

"Yeah, but that was years ago, before this book was written." Harry tapped the pages in front of him. "Everyone knows he hasn't been the same since he got back from Albania."

"You want to go check on him, don't you?" Draco sighed, he was getting to know Harry's moods fairly well, and though they didn't always agree – Harry thought Draco had a nasty tongue, especially towards some of the Gryffindors; and Draco thought Harry showed a bit too much concern for others when it wasn't any of his business – they were also quite good at helping each other get out of sticky situations, so most of the time, it worked out.

"Come on, I'm sure the teachers have dealt with the troll by now, let's go see if Quirrel is still fainted."

The four of them got to their feet, but Draco told Greg and Vince they'd be fine without them then he and Harry slipped out of the secret entrance to the common room, and toward the nearest staircase. The halls were eerily quiet, and they found the great hall empty. They were wondering what to do next as they came back through the entrance hall, and found Professor Snape, McGonagall, and Quirrel descending the stairs in their direction, the former two counted among Harry's least favorite teachers, though he was glad to see Quirrel appeared mostly recovered.

"What are you doing out of your house wing?" McGonagall asked in a sharp voice. Both of them flinched.

"We were just coming to check on Quirrel, he'd fainted earlier and…"

"Two points, Potter, for your blatant disregard for instructions." Snape scowled at him, seeming to be in a particularly foul mood.

Harry bit his lip to hold in his retort, knowing it'd only make things worse.

"I think that's only fair." McGonagall agreed, turning on Draco, "Another point from you, Malfoy, now hurry back to your rooms, and stay there please."

"I knew this was a bad idea." Draco murmured once they were down the stairs, and on their way back.

"You could have said so." Harry grumbled in reply.

"Yeah, I could have. But you wouldn't have listened." He shrugged.

"I suppose not. But, we could have handled ourselves, Quirrel taught us that stunning jinx just today."

"Quirrel seemed fine; he must have remembered his stunning jinx too. He might just be sturdier than he looks." Said Draco, "Did you notice that Snape was limping?" Draco had paused just outside the common room, and lowered his voice so they wouldn't be overheard.

"No I didn't." Harry blinked; he hadn't been paying much attention to Snape's feet. "Do you suppose he was hurt by the troll?"

"Must've been. I'll ask him about it when next we get a chance to chat."

"Maybe you should teach him that jinx Quirrel taught us." Harry joked, and they were both laughing as they re-entered the common room.

Draco had his chance to ask on Saturday, but when he returned to the dorm room they shared with the other first years, he was wearing a thoughtful expression. "Harry? …have a moment?" Harry put his book down (he'd checked out a book on quidditch rules from the library as a refresher since their first match was barely a week away now). "Snape seems to be all right." He began, either missing or ignoring Harry's pointed look, which attempted to say that he obviously didn't really care if Snape was doing well or not. "But I overheard something I thought you might find interesting."

Harry could tell Draco was excited, as he'd lowered his voice into his favorite 'conspiratorial tone' once he'd drawn close enough. It was the same tone he used whenever they were discussing the mysterious three-headed bear, or the package from Gringotts. "Snape got injured on Halloween, just as we thought. But I'm not sure it was the troll."

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked.

"He mentioned something about teeth, but we know from that book we borrowed that trolls don't really bite, and as often as not, don't have many teeth. They like to hit things with their fists or clubs usually. Now, I was thinking…"

Before he could finish, Harry spoke out, catching his train of thought almost immediately. "It could have been the bear. Do you think Snape might be after whatever it's guarding?"

"What?!" Draco's outraged face said that he hadn't considered anything of the sort. "No. Snape may be a bit stern, but he's no thief. I bet there's another reason he was there, maybe someone let the troll in as a diversion to try and get a look in the 'forbidden corridor' and Snape saved them from getting eaten by the bear."

Harry couldn't honestly see Snape rescuing some hapless student, especially one stupid enough to let a troll into the castle as a simple diversion. "If someone did let a troll into the castle, I have an idea who might know something about it." Harry told his friend, "I'll let you know what they say."

"They?" Draco frowned, "Why are you being so mysterious all of a sudden?"

Harry sighed, "It's the Weasley twins. I get the impression that there's not a lot of rule breaking or mischief that goes on in the school they don't know about. They so often seem to be in the center of such things."

"They're… Gryffindors."

"And the perfect people to help us find out more about this."

Draco thought about it a long moment, but finally nodded. "You're probably right." He admitted grudgingly.

Harry simply smiled.

Harry found a chance before Charms class on Monday to go looking for the Weasley twins. Of all the students he knew outside Slytherin they'd been the most friendly to him, even though he'd learned they were playing on the Gryffindor quidditch team against Harry on Saturday. In point of fact, they were friendlier than some of the Slytherins Harry had met.

He didn't know exactly how to go about finding them, they didn't keep to any specific schedule, outside of classes, but after a bit of wandering, and asking their older brother – one of the Gryffindor prefects – he tracked them down to the second floor corridor just at the top of the stairs.

Even then, he might have missed them, if he hadn't heard a crash coming from the boys bathroom right next to the girls bathroom that was always out of order. Curious, he slipped inside to find water spraying from one of the bathroom stalls, and the twins rushing away toward the mirrors on wall opposite, water dripping from their robes as they spluttered and laughed. "Maybe that wasn't such a bright idea." One of them said to the other, though they were both still grinning.

"Tepidaerus." The other said, swishing his wand before aiming it at his twin. It looked as if hot air was blowing vigorously from the tip of his wand, causing his brother's robes to flap and ripple for a brief moment as they dried.

"I've been looking for you two." Harry spoke up once they'd both taken a turn drying each other off.

"We know." Said one. "We overheard you asking Percy."

"Did you just blow up a toilet?" Harry glanced at the offending stall.

"It was mum's idea really, isn't that right Fred?" George grinned mischievously.

"Yeah, you have her to thank; good ol' mum." Fred laughed, and Harry wasn't entirely sure what the joke was.

"Maybe you should do it from farther away next time. Won't you get in trouble though?" Harry mused aloud.

"Only if you go snitching on us, and if we thought you were a snitch we wouldn't have blown it up when we knew you were looking for us."

"Uh, if you heard me talking to your brother…"

"Percy."

"Right, Percy. Why didn't you just come to me then?" Harry frowned, thinking about it, "Why make me run around all over the castle to find you?" The twins grinned, and Harry realized that 'running all over the castle' was justification enough for the Weasleys; it must have been rather entertaining, though Harry certainly wasn't amused.

"Give us some credit." Fred leaned against the mirror behind him, his robes now perfectly dry. "You have 'intrigue' practically written on your face, we knew we'd be better off talking somewhere out of the way, even if we are starting a flood."

"Speaking of which." George added, "If the noise didn't attract attention, the flooding soon will. Maybe it's time we were somewhere else?"

Harry agreed, and they slipped out of the bathroom and down the stairs. And just in time too, Harry thought he heard footsteps pass the top of the stairs right as they were reaching the bottom.

"So what's on your mind?" Fred asked him, once they popped into the Muggle Studies classroom, which was currently not in use.

Harry took a moment before replying, "I've been thinking about the troll, on Halloween. I thought maybe someone let it in as a prank." He explained.

"It wasn't us." They said in unison.

"I didn't say it was…" Harry protested their interruption.

Fred frowned, "Right… That's not a very nice prank, any way you look at it."

"Yeah I know; that's why I didn't think it was you. But I thought if someone did try to get a troll in the castle, or tried to sneak into the third floor corridor, I thought you might know about it."

They looked mildly sheepish, but very thoughtful about Harry's idea. Finally George replied, after sharing a glance with his twin, "We hadn't really considered that. None of our usual mates would've done something like that, but I think an investigation is just the thing, we'll be discreet of course."

"I'd appreciate it. I've got a bad feeling that someone's up to no good." Harry thanked them, and soon was heading back to his rooms to prepare for his Charms class.

He still hadn't heard back from the twins by the end of the week. The first quidditch match of the school year was first thing in the morning, and Harry wasn't thinking about Snape, three-headed bears, secret packages, or leg injuries – at least not from three-headed bears. If he hadn't already been a little ahead on his class work he would have certainly fallen behind due to the extra practices and just general excitement and dread leading up to the game.

It didn't help that Seamus Finnigan and Ron Weasley had been taunting him, explaining in gleeful detail all the different common injuries seekers were likely to sustain, and even some which weren't so common but were quite vivid and frightening, along with a few of the more famous deaths in the history of quidditch.

Draco helped by throwing insults back at them, his tongue being particularly quick, and his timing perfect; which meant that he really wasn't helping all, merely making things worse. Though Harry did get a kick out of a few of his taunts when they weren't about Ron's parentage or lack of money.

When Saturday morning finally came, Harry felt as if he'd barely slept, and couldn't eat a bite at breakfast. Marcus Flint didn't help Harry's nerves at all in the locker rooms either, "We have to win, you all got that? I'll hold each of you personally accountable for any screw ups." His glare trailed over each of them one at a time before he nodded, and he led the way out onto the field.

On the Quidditch pitch, Harry was overwhelmed by the noise of the crowd. Someone in the Gryffindor stands had made a big banner with the words "Smash Slytherin!" on it, and a cleverly drawn and enchanted picture of Harry repeatedly flying face first into a tree with the snitch circling just out of reach.

They approached Madam Hooch in the center of the field, with the Gryffindor team coming from the opposite side. Harry recognized their beaters – the Weasley twins – the Gryffindor captain and keeper, Oliver Wood, and their seeker Katie Bell. It was common knowledge that Katie had been moved from chaser to seeker at the last minute. The seven members of the reserves-less Gryffindor team faced off against the ten member strong Slytherin team – the sole unfilled position being the reserve seeker.

"Now, I want a nice clean game," Madam Hooch began, looking pointedly at Flint, "from all of you. For this match, Gryffindor will be considered the home team, and Slytherin the visitor," she continued, "Which means that Captain Flint will call the coin toss. Heads or beasts, Marcus?" Marcus called beasts, and Hooch tossed the knut high in the air. Harry watched it rise, spinning gracefully, then land in Hooch's outstretched hand. "Heads!" she announced.

"We choose North goal." Oliver Wood said immediately, before Hooch could ask him the official question. She gave him a look, but said nothing on the matter. Soon after, however, Hooch blew her silver whistle and they took to the air on their brooms up to their starting positions. The match was just about ready to start.

Slytherin's three reserve players retreated to their box as the other 14 players hovered in formation mid-air. Hooch opened the box at her feet, released the bludgers and the snitch, and then held the quaffle ready to put into play between the lead chasers.

Harry tried to ignore the taunts from the stands. The only ones who seemed to be supporting his team were the Slytherins, plus those few of his friends – such as Hagrid, who was sitting with the Gryffindors, but gave Harry a broad grin and a thumbs-up when he caught his eye.

Then, as if in slow motion, Madam Hooch threw the quaffle high into the air, her whistle sounded distantly, and the game was at long last underway.

Very quickly Harry's sense of time seemed to speed back up as the lead Gryffindor chaser caught the quaffle out of the air, and sped off, tucking the red ball under her arm. Harry watched as the game flashed into a blur of speeding uniforms, brooms, and balls. "And the beautiful and talented Angelina Johnson takes the quaffle, racing towards the Slytherin goal!" Harry heard the announcer, Lee Jordan, call out.

Harry closed his eyes after an interminable moment and shook his head to clear it. He gulped down a deep gasp of air then opened his eyes just in time to get sideswiped with a hard, but glancing blow, from a bludger. He almost lost his grip on his broom, as the roar of laughter from the stands below made his ears turn red. He thought even the Slytherins were laughing.

Determination overcame his momentary embarrassment as he deliberately rose up higher, and began sweeping the field for the snitch. He flew slowly above the other players, pausing only briefly from time to time to deftly dodge a bludger sent his way by one of the Weasleys or getting out of the way of a high flying chaser who wasn't watching for Harry.

Harry winced when Flint hurtled into Gryffindor's lead chaser, and heard the commentator vehemently cry, "Foul! That cheating Flint just tried to knock Angelina…"

"None of that, Mr. Jordan." Came McGonogall's voice through Jordan's voice amplifier.

After Hooch confirmed the foul, the players returned to their starting positions, except for Angelina, Harry, and Gryffindor seeker, Katie Bell. Angelina lined up for her penalty shot, and a moment later Jordan yelled, "Angelina Scores!" as the quaffle slipped past Miles Bletchley and through the top goal hoop.

The game had barely started again when Angelina was fouled a second time amidst a chorus of boos and jeers from Slytherins, and mostly laughter from the other houses. Apparently Angelina had managed to get 'blurted' by Slytherin chaser, Adrian Pucey, who'd somehow unintentionally locked broom handles with her and steered them both off course.

Angelina wore a distinct smirk as she again took a penalty shot, and scored. This could be a really short game if this keeps up, thought Harry. But there were no further fouls called for the next few minutes. Some of the Slytherins were now keeping their distance from the clever and nimble Miss Johnson.

Suddenly, Harry was distracted by a flash of gold out of one corner of his eye, but when he turned, he couldn't locate it. He did see Katie Bell flying low, as if she'd spotted something, but she pulled up into a higher circuit a few feet from one of the Weasleys, with a frustrated pout. It was then Harry saw one of Slytherin's beaters – a fourth year boy named Lucian Bole – change course right behind her, and realized Lucian had been on a collision course with Katie. Had she not pulled up, Lucian certainly would have fouled her, delivering a brutal check.

Harry gulped, coming to the unsettling realization that a seeker in concentrated pursuit of the snitch had better not forget to watch what was happening around him if he expected to avoid injury. Many of the colorful and varied taunts over the last few weeks came back to him with a twinge.

"Alicia Spinnet Scores!" Lee Jordan's amplified voice crowed over the roar of the crowd. Harry turned to peer down at the field below to where the Slytherin keeper was shaking his head. Play resumed shortly thereafter, and Peter Connolly, filling in briefly for beater Peregrine Derrik, almost fouled Angelina again. She dodged, and Peter ended up on the ground just below his now riderless broom, much to the amusement of the non-Slytherins in the stands.

Just at that moment he heard a momentary buzzing in one ear. His hand came up automatically to swat whatever it was away, but it was already gone. It was only a second or two before he thought to double check, and found the tiny gold ball whizzing upwards away from him. He bit his lip and shifted on his broom, putting on speed towards the object. He forgot about everything but the winged snitch ahead of him. It tried to dodge, as if deliberately anticipating Harry's course, first zigging and then zagging as Harry's broom rapidly closed the distance.

He was almost in range, his right hand outstretched in front of his broom, when he heard Jordan's voice, "And here comes Bell, to steal the snitch!" He glanced back behind him, and sure enough there was Katie on his tail, though she wasn't nearly as fast as he was. He swerved left to stay with the snitch, and noticed Bell taking an even sharper turn to cut directly into its path.

But when he next refocused forwards again, the snitch had vanished. He whirled around in midair, and saw his rival seeker altering course to follow it. He dove, laying flat against his broom, as the crowd below seemed to hold their collective breath. Katie was closer, but her broom was no match for Harry's Wind Chaser, and he snatched the ball out of the air just in front of her hand.

They would have collided if Harry hadn't swerved, spinning around sideways on his broom, then grabbed Katie's arm with his free hand to steady her when it appeared she was about to fall. She looked startled as she opened her mouth as if to say something, but the crowd was going wild below; the Slytherins were cheering loudly, but even that was drowned out by the noise coming from the other stands. Harry had impressed many, but most the school seemed to have come hoping Slytherin would lose.

As each team member reached the ground, they clapped Harry on the back and congratulated him and each other on a game well played. Later they borrowed a room in the dungeons to celebrate. Most of Slytherin was there, enjoying their team's victory.

"You were really amazing! Just wait till we can play together next year!" Draco cried with one arm draped across Harry's shoulders. People kept coming up to Harry to congratulate him, and he wondered if he'd ever get used to all this attention.

Eventually Harry found his way into an antechamber just off of the main room where the celebration was winding down, and sat alone on a bench in the much cooler and dimmer room. He was relieved to get out of the press, and have a moment to himself.

The bench he sat on creaked loudly and Harry opened his eyes to see Hagrid settling beside him. "Yer da' woulda' been proud." The friendly man told him, a little flushed in the face, perhaps from coming to see him amidst all the Slytherins, who weren't usually kind to him.

"Would he? You said he was in Gryffindor." Harry wished he could remember his father, or his mother.

"He played too, ya know." He told him, "Chaser for Gryffindor, was even cap'n 'is last few years."

"No. I didn't know." Harry blinked, "There's so much I don't know."

"Yeh'll learn, yer a'ready doing so well. McGonagall tells me you're great at transfiguration. Jus' like yer da'."

"She says that? She's always so stern, and she took points away from me and Draco last week. Well, I guess technically Snape took points away from me, for being out of the Slytherin dorms when we went to check on Quirrel."

"When was that?" Hagrid asked, his shaggy brow furrowing.

"Halloween. Quirrel fainted, remember? Me and Draco figured the troll would be gone by then, and went to check on Quirrel."

"Oh, right." Hagrid shook his head, "Flitwick even took points away from Ron Weasley that night. Anyone who snuck out were given a penalty o' one point, Snape wasn't singlin' yer out er nothin'."

"He took two points from me, Hagrid." Harry mumbled, remembering how sour the Potions Master had looked. "He was in a bad mood, 'cause he tried to get past the three-headed bear and it bit him."

"Who tol' ye about Fluffy?!" Hagrid protested, a little too loudly, as his raised voice drew one of the Slytherins through the door to investigate. "Go back in, nothin' ter see 'ere." Hagrid insisted, not allowing the conversation to continue until they were alone again.

"Fluffy? That monster's name is Fluffy?!" Harry was surprised, and a little aghast.

"O'course! What's wrong wi' tha name Fluffy? An' he's a dog, not a bear. Who ever heard of a three-'eaded bear?" he chuckled a little to himself.

"What's it doing in the school? That's dangerous isn't it? Students could get hurt, or killed!"

"Never you mind." Hagrid said sternly. "Dumbledore gave a warnin' at the beginning o' tha term. An' so far no'uns even gotten past tha door."

"Snape did, Draco saw him limping when he caught us on Halloween."

"Tha's enough. I didn'a come 'ere ta talk to yer about Fluffy." Harry sighed, and turned away.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up the be… I mean, uh… Fluffy…"

"Keep it ter yerself. People will be thinkin' I told ye, an' I'd get in trouble." Hagrid mumbled after a moment.

Harry nodded, and they sat in silence for several minutes, before Hagrid got to his feet. "Go on, 'ave some'at to eat. I heard yer skipped yer breakfast, an' there's some good snacks 'ere at the party, but I dunno how long it'll last."

They rejoined the others, and Harry tried his best to enjoy himself. He mostly succeeded, but he didn't forget what Hagrid had mentioned while they had been talking. He held his tongue until he and Draco could discuss it alone later.

Author's Comments: I've been working on this one for quite some time, and I hope the effort is starting to pay off. In particular, Seru Crescent and Illusor Maeneld have encouraged me to work on this when I wasn't sure if it was worth the effort.

So please, let me know what you think.

A special thanks to my father, a sports and writing enthusiast, who assisted me in writing what I hope is a very interesting quidditch match.

EDIT: Yet more edits, including some rearrangement of event orders in this and the previous chapter. Most specifically, I decided to mention the fact that Miss McClaren didn't make the quidditch team during Harry's first practice, rather than the first match against Gryffindor. Seemed a more logical place for it, in hindsight. As always, enjoy!

Once again the copyrights for the Harry Potter worlds belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters depicted here and this story are copyrighted to me.