Chapter 7

*"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..." Professor Snape recited in a quiet tone. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

During this speech, the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins were utterly silent, each filled with awe and trepidation. Harry was no exception. This dark man seemed every bit as menacing now as the night upon which he had met him. In an effort to be attentive, Harry copied down every word he said.

"Potter!" the professor barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's mind tried to comprehend what Professor Snape had just asked with little success. Hermione, across the table from Harry, was waving her hand frantically in the air. Harry stared blankly at Professor Snape.

"I don't know, sir," he replied honestly.

"Ah, perhaps you should try paying attention in the future, rather than drawing on your parchment," Snape suggested in a scornful tone. "Let us try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a beozar?"

"I don't know sir," Harry stated, without hesitation this time.

"Well, fame clearly isn't everything," Snape replied with a sneer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a boy, who he recognized as Theodore Nott, snicker. His blood began to boil until he saw the Slytherin next to him give Nott a sharp jab in the ribs; almost in reproach. It was Draco, Harry saw. A rush of gratitude cleared Harry's head as he turned back to Snape.

"One more chance, Potter," Snape carried on, "Tell me, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry repeated again. "But you might try Hermione, I think she does." *

This time, Harry saw Draco laugh and Ron give him a wink. Professor Snape, however, did not crack a smile. Not that anyone had expected him to.

Harry felt triumphant.

"Detention, ," Snape snapped and turned on his heel. Harry's moment of triumph had been effectively crushed. Snape waved his wand and directions appeared on the board.

"Ingredients are in the cupboard. You have one hour. Go."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

"Detention, Mr. Potter," Snape said.

The look on the brat's face gave Snape extreme satisfaction. Just as he had predicted, Potter had turned out to be a cheeky, arrogant boy who seemed above paying attention in class. Snape had prepared that speech particularly for this class, and the wretched boy was simply absorbed in his parchment the whole time. Well, regardless, Snape had paid him back, and managed to assign a detention as well, something that James had usually seemed to wriggle out of. How good it had felt to say those words! He would carefully plan this detention.

Snape watched his students work over their boiling cauldrons. This was an extremely simple potion, and therefore he did not expect anyone to have ann issue. As usual, his class could not go without lowering his expectations by at least a little bit. Today, Neville Longbottom was the source of the trouble, as Snape had predicted from first laying eyes on the boy.

"What happened here?" he demanded, looking sharply at the mangled mess of smoking metal before him. "In ten minutes, you have managed to melt a brand new cauldron. I am almost impressed. I believe you have set a record."

The round-faced boy paled. He seemed incapable of forming a coherent sentance, so Hermione spoke for him.

"He added the porcupine quills too early, sir," she explained while stirring a perfect potion.

Snape turned to Harry who had been sitting beside Neville.

"And why did you not tell him that it was not the proper time to add the quills?"

"Sorry sir, I was working on my own potion," Harry replied.

"Typical Gryffindor, self-absorbed and oblivious," Snape sneered. "Why don't we make that a week of detentions?"

Harry stared at him mutely. Snape felt no remorse, but merely deepened his sneer and turned away. He had been too soft on the boy over the summer; returning to Hogwarts had straightened Snape right up.

Finally, he would get his revenge; and since James Potter was...indisposed, his son would have to do.


"I know, Harry, that was totally unfair," Ron sympathized. "I mean, Hermione or I could've said something to Neville too, but he didn't give us detention." He quickly added, "Not that I want it, but..."

"It's okay. I just wish I knew why he hated me so much... I thought that over the summer, when he was mean, that he was just like that to everyone, but now that he singled me out..." Harry mused, disturbed.

"Yeah, wonder what that's about. Hey, isn't it dinner time?" Ron said, sniffing the air as they headed toward the Great Hall.

Stomachs comfortably full, Harry and Ron headed back up to the Gryffindor common room. As soon as they walked in the door, they noticed a large group of first years clustered around the message board. Harry pushed his way through to get a closer look.

"FLYING LESSONS," it announced in bold letters. Gryffindors and Sytherins would be learning together, which made Harry strangely satisfied. After all the practice at the Burrow, Harry was fairly confident in his abilities on a broom and he hoped that the lesson went smoothly.

Harry noted that Hermione looked nervous. He supposed that she had never been on a broom before, and no amount of reading can prepare for that.

"It's not as hard as it looks," Harry reassured her.

"How do you know?" her eyes narrowed. "I thought you were raised by muggles."

"I was, but I spent the last month with Ron's family," Harry explained. "Really, flying is great. I love it."

She nodded, but did not look reassured.

The next day, Gryffindors gathered outside beside the Slytherins. Harry gave Draco a friendly nod as he passed the group of silver and green bedecked students.

"Alright, let's get started here," Madam Hooch clapped her hands. "Everyone, step up next to a broom. That's good," she said when they had done so. "Now hold your hand over it and say 'up'."

Harry's, Ron's and Draco's brooms shot right up, along with a few others from each house. The remaining students, however, were having difficulties. Hermione's broomstick refused to do anything except for roll over. Neville's shot straight up on its bristles, smacking him between the eyes and eliciting laughter from the Slytherins.

When at last they had mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch gave a new command.

"When I say go, you are to kick off and hover above the ground, then come immediately back down. Understand? Good," she said, looking around at each of them.

"G-," before she was able to finish the word, Neville's broom had raised into the air, making him squeal and panic.

"Ahhh," he yelled as the broom went ten, fifteen feet into the air.

"Come down this instant!" Madam Hooch yelled at the ascending student.

Unfortunately, he obeyed, if not willingly. Neville slipped sideways off of the broom and hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

"Oh dear," Madam Hooch said, rushing over to him.

Neville moaned. The older woman drew her wand and levitated him.
"I am taking Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. You are to stay firmly on the ground. Anyone who deigns to do otherwise will be out of Hogwarts before he can say 'Quidditch', is that clear?" she demanded.

They nodded their agreement and she bustled off. Harry obediently put his broom on the ground. As he straightened, he saw Nott clutching a small, shiny ball.

"What is that?" he whispered to Ron.

"The Rememberall that Neville's grandmum sent him. He got it this morning at breakfast," Ron said in a pitying, resigned tone.

Harry stepped into the knot of Slytherins. He took a deep breath; the sorting hat didn't place him in Gryffindor for nothing. Or so he hoped.

"Give it back," he said quietly, but firmly.

Nott smirked. "Always trying to be the hero, aren't you, Potter?"

"Give it back, Nott," he said more forcefully.

"Alright," he said easily, then grabbed a broom and took off.

Harry saw no other choice but to follow him. He started for the broom he had left behind with the Gryffindors.

"Here, take mine," Draco offered.

"Thanks," Harry said and took off. As he matched Nott's height, about twenty feet, he considered that he really, really did not want to be expelled.

"Alright," Nott repeated. "You can have it back for your pathetic little friend," he stated, "if you can catch it."

He pulled his arm back and whipped it straight at a window of the castle. Harry did not know what the Remembrall was made of, but he was certain that it, if not the window as well, would break upon impact. Without hesitation, he sped off toward the ball as it got closer and closer to the window. Harry let go with one hand and reached out for it. A fraction of a second before impact, Harry snatched it out of the air and was forced to roll and turn at the same time to avoid hitting the building himself.

Harry stopped in midair, holding the ball before him triumphantly and savoring the scowl on Nott's face. He was so pleased that he did not hear the window slide open behind him.

"Mr. Potter! What is the meaning of this? Ground yourself this instant and stay where you land. I will be down in a moment," Professor McGonagall said in a stern tone.

"Yes ma'm," Harry said, spirits sinking. He was going to be expelled. That was it; back to the Dursleys.

He landed before the Gryffindors who congratulated him, then empathized as he told of McGonagall.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron said encouragingly, "Fred and George have done much worse and they're still here."

Harry nodded numbly.

"You heard her say to stay on the ground," Hermione piped up. "There's no denying it; you blatantly ignored the rules," she finished, unsympathetic.

Harry shot her a glare, "I did what was right. I have had more than my share of bullies; I stand up for people when I can," he said hinting at an insult.

She huffed and crossed her arms. Harry figured she was just in a bad mood from her failure with the brooms, and dismissed it. Ron, on the other hand, did not.

"What's your problem?" he demanded. "Are you a Gryffindor or not? Harry did what was right and stood up for Neville. That's what bravery is all about."

He looked like he was prepared to continue his rant when McGonagall stepped up between them.

"That may be, Mr. Weasley, but I cannot deny what I have witnessed," she stated solemnly. "Come with me, Mr. Potter."

She led him to the Potions lab and Harry's palms clammed up. Would Snape be the one to tell him he was expelled? Why? She knocked on the door.

"Severus, may I borrow Wood for a moment?" she asked. To Harry, this sounded like a torture device.

"If you must," he replied slowly, as always.

Out stepped a tall fifth year, who looked lean, but strong. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Oliver, I believe I have found you a Seeker," McGonagall said proudly.

Harry's confusion showed on his face as the older boy looked him up and down with a critical eye.

"He has the build for it, but isn't he a first year? They're not allowed brooms," he pointed out.

"I believe we can make an exception. I would really like to beat Slytherin this year," she said, almost demanding.

"Alright, I'll show him around," Wood said, then turned to Harry. "Meet me at the field at 5 today, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed, "But I have detention at 7."

"Oh. Well then, maybe tomorrow would be better? Though the sooner we get you started the more time we have to train..."

"Er, um I have detention all week," Harry admitted sheepishly.

"Who would give you a week's worth of detention on the first day of classes?" McGonagall asked, apparently shocked.

"Professor Snape."

"Oh," she said, and it seemed to take a large degree of willpower for her to resist rolling her eyes.

"Well, today then, even if it is only for a few hours," Wood agreed.

"You are free to go, Mr. Potter," McGonagall told him, sounding oddly sympathetic. "You as well, Wood."

They nodded and parted ways.


"You're kidding," Ron declared.

"He's not," Fred said from behind them.

"Welcome to the team," George said.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "I have to get down to the pitch now, see you later."

Harry wandered down to the Quidditch pitch and arrived at 5 o'clock exactly. Wood was already there, lugging a large case to the middle of the field.

"'ello Harry. You familiar with Quidditch?" he asked, jumping right into things.

"Mostly, but I haven't heard of a Seeker. I've played Beater and Keeper before though."

"Ah, you didn't have a snitch then?" Wood asked.

Harry shook his head.

Wood opened the case and removed a small gold ball, decorated with delicate filigree. As he held it before his thumb and forefinger, wings unfurled from its sides.

"This is the Golden Snitch. Catch it, and our team gets 150 points. That's your only job, don't worry about the Bludgers or anything else," Oliver said.

Harry found it next to impossible to not worry about the Bludgers, but Wood waved his worries away. "The Weasley twins are more than a match for them," he said. "Here," he tossed Harry an old broom from storage. "I'm going to let this go and you just catch it okay?"

Harry was certainly okay with that and had a great time trying to spot the tiny snitch and then catch it. By the fifth catch however, Wood stopped him.

"You really are excellent. We might really have a chance this year," he said earnestly. "But it's almost seven, you should head back up to the castle."

Harry was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. He nodded nervously.

"I'll let you know when the next practice is," Wood said. Harry acknowledged this and turned to leave. "Oh, Harry?"

Harry looked back at the fifth year, "Yeah?"

"Good luck."


Disclaimer: Portions of dialogue have been taken directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone,particularly between the two *asterisks* but in other parts as well.

Update: I realize that everyone hates this chapter because it is too close to the cannon but I was at a loss as to how to lay certain groundwork. From here on out, the story changes, I promise.