So, I know you've been waiting far too long for this chapter and I feel awful! Sorry! But Hopefully this chapter is good enough to make it up to you, especially if I wasn't able to reply to your review...once again sorry! I've been busy, I know that's my usual excuse but it's the truth. Sigh...

Anyhoo, I know what you really want to do is read the new chapter so without further ado...

Let's get on with it!

Chapter 8

Potions, Quidditch and Draco Malfoy

Harry's first week at Hogwarts passed quickly but eventfully. The school was every bit as vast and labrynth-like as Harry had suspected it would be and he felt lucky to have visited it before, otherwise, he was certain, its twisting corridors and moving staircases would have been even more of a trial. As it was, he had Ron had been late by almost fifteen minutes to their first lesson of all, History of Magic. Although, it had to be said, the ghostly teacher, Professor Binns, hadn't even noticed and Harry ended up almost falling asleep in his class anyway.

Professor Flitwick who taught Charms had squeaked exitedly when he noticed Harry in his class for the first time. Later, as everyone concentrated on memorising the correct incantation for a hovering charm, he crept over to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, how wonderful it is to see you here at last, " he said with a whiskery smile, standing next to Harry's desk his face barely peeked over the top. "I knew your mother you know," he continued blithely, "I taught her in this very class, most talented at Charms she was, I'll be expecting great things from you as well ."

Infact, Harry noted grimly, almost every one of his teachers made mention to him of how talented atleast one of his parents had been at the subject which they taught and Harry sincerely hoped that they didn't honestly expect him to have inherited all, if any, of his parents talent. Two notable exceptions to this were Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.

Harry's parents had already told him about Professor McGonagall so he was unsurprised by her stern manner. However he was surprised that, considering the fact that she knew his parents well and his father had infact excelled in her class, she made no mention of them at all. Infact she afforded Harry no more attention than she did any other student in her class and for that Harry felt eternally grateful.

Professor Snape, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Unlike McGonagall who gave Harry just as much, or as little, attention as everyone else in her class, Professor Snape deliberately singled Harry out in what Harry considered an attempt to make a fool of him.

"Harry Potter," Snape had read out from the register on Harry's first day in his class, "our new...celebrity..."

Harry heard Draco Malfoy and his friends snigger appreciatively at this and flushed uncomfortably under Snape's scrutiny. The rest of the class continued in a similar vein.

"Potter!" Snape had called out suddenly, "what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione Granger's hand shot up. Harry had frozen. He recognised the names of the plants Snape had said from his mother's herb garden and potion making, however he had no idea what happened when they were put together and so was forced to admit his ignorance infront of the class.

"Clearly fame isn't everything, is it Potter?" Snape tutted and Harry thought he detected a certain relish in his cold dark eyes, "Tell me, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand rose even higher. Once again the word struck a familiar chord in Harry's memory and he was certain he had read about it in one of his text books but he couldn't remember what it was and certainly not where it could be found. Did Snape expect him to have memorised his entire text book?

"Thought you would get by without reading a book, did you?" Snape sneered, "what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know sir," Harry snarled frustratedly, "but maybe you should ask Hermione, she seems to."

It was then that Harry lost his first point for Gryffindor. By the end of that first lesson Harry was certain that Snape hated him.

"It's more than just the fact that I'm in Gryffindor," He assured Ron as they went to meet Hagrid.

Ron had been telling him how Snape was reknowned for a favouritism for the students of his own house, Slytherin, and his apparent dislike of all the students of Gryffindor.

"No, it's me he doesn't like," Harry said angrily, "but what did I ever do to him?"

Hagrid was entirely unhelpful in the matter of solving the mystery of who Snape hated him.

"Don' be silly Harry," Hagrid had said as he served them his homemade rock cakes, "Why would Professor Snape hate ya?"

However Harry couldn't help but notice he had a shifty look in his eye. Before he could question him further, he caught sight of a newspaper on Hagrid's table.

"Hey, that's my Dad," Harry said frowning as he reached for it. Sure enough the newspaper's headline was, 'Aurors in Turmoil Over Gringotts Robbery!'. A picture of a grim looking James, an exasperated Sirius and a tired looking Kingsley Shaklebolt graced the cover.

"Huh?" Ron asked peeking over Harry's shoulder, "What does it say then?"

Harry began to read outloud.

"Aurors in Turmoil Over Gringotts Robbery!

Gringotts Wizard bank has been known for centuries as one of the safest places in all of Britain and even the world! However, since July's break in, the Bank's reputation as being absolutely secure has been tarnished, despite the fact that it was immediately made clear to the public that the thief was unable to steal anything.

Later it was discovered by Daily Prophet reporters that this was because the item that the theif had been attempting to steal had been emptied from its vault earlier that very day! Still, the wizards and witches of Britain are left to wonder how this mysterious thief managed to even get beyond the Bank's security in order to find and open the vault. In times like these we look to those who are bound by duty to protect and serve the public, our Aurors, however they seem to be just as stumped as we are!

Auror James Potter, father of the fam...wait is that really necessary" Harry cut off to glare at the paper. He was still feeling very sore about the subject of his fame, especially since Snape's lesson.

"Go on!" Ron said impatiently. Harry grumbled a little but began to read again.

"-Auror James Potter had only this to say, 'We are doing our best to track this thief and work out how they managed to get past Gringotts' defenses which, I must insist, remain the best in the world. The wizarding community doesn't need to worry about their own possesions being taken from the Bank, rest assured no one is getting into Gringotts without us noticing.'

Far from the reassuring tone that James Potter tried to convey, his comment reveals frightening news. The Aurors are nowhere near close to catching this no doubt dangerous criminal or determining how they managed to get past Gringotts' powerful security. Now caution must be necessary, for who knows when this dark thief will strike again?"

Harry groaned tossing the paper back onto the table.

"Rita Skeeter again," he said, "my Dad must be really annoyed. She's always trying to get everyone riled up."

"Yeah," Ron said nodding sagely, "my Dad's always going on about her blown up stories...wonder what it was though."

"What?" Harry asked distractedly.

"The thing the thief was trying to steal," Ron clarified, "I wonder what it was..."

"Huh, oh yeah," Harry said in agreement, even as he glanced over at Hagrid who had been suspiciously quiet for the last few minutes and who was now vigorously sweeping the floor with a nervous look on his face.

Harry remembered Hagrid taking the small grubby package from vault 713 and once again wondered what it possibly be. He knew it had to be important from the way his parents and Hagrid himself acted about it, and he burned with curiousity. However he also knew that whatever it was had to be dangerous, after all, why else would everyone be so determined to protect it? He remembered his mother's words, "It's something secret which must be kept very safe," and decided not to say anything more about it.

oOo

In many ways Harry considered Draco Malfoy incredibly similar to his cousin Dudley. Yes he was infinitely skinnier and quite a bit more intelligent, but the two boys shared a common goal, and that was to make Harry miserable. So it was to Harry's great displeasure when he saw a notice pinned up the Gryffindor common room stating plainly that all Gryffindor first years would be recquired to take flying lessons, with the Slytherins, that coming Thursday.

"Why are we always paired with Slytherin?" Ron asked no one in particular.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "Just what I needed, more time with Malfoy."

Truthfully, Harry was excited about getting an opportunity to fly again. There was no other feeling like it in the world as far as he was concerned. Ron agreed wholeheartedly and was filled with stories of he and his brothers' flying escapades. Infact, almost everyone seemed to be filled with excitement about the upcoming flying lessons. Malfoy himself was strutting about the school loudly proclaiming his skill in flying. Seamus Finnigan, who shared a dormitory with Harry and Ron, talked endlessly of how he'd spent the entire summer up in the air. Neville Longbottom however seemed terrified by the prospect.

"I've never been allowed on a broom," He said nervously when he'd heard about the lessons, "My gran never let me near one."

Hermione Granger was almost more nervous than Neville. She spent the days leading up to the flying lesson with her nose buried in any books she could find in the library about flying or brooms. At breakfast on Thursday morning she was still devouring a thick pile of books.

"Look Neville," she said pointing out a page in a book called 'Quidditch Through the Ages', "it says you should keep your back straight if you want to go slow and lean forward if you want to go fast."

"How do you stop?" Neville gulped looking pale.

Hermione's answer was interrupted by the arrival of Owl Post. Harry didn't see Hedwig's destinctive pure white feathers, or the deep black of his parent's owl Midnight, and was unsurprised, his parents had sent him a lengthy letter the day before. However, across the table a brown barn owl delivered a package to Neville from his grandmother.

"It's a Remembrall," Neville said excitedly when he opened it.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"It's supposed to help you remember if you've forgotten something," Neville explained, "See, you're supposed to squeeze it like this and if it turns red- oh!"

The glass ball in his fist suddenly glowed scarlet.

"So, what've you forgotten?" Seamus asked grinning.

"I-I don't remember..." Neville said to everyone's amusement.

"Hey, what've you got here Longbottom?" Malfoy said suddenly appearing behind Neville and snatching the Remembrall from him.

Harry lept to his feet, Malfoy had been grating on his nerves all week and he was already on edge.

"Give it back Malfoy!" he ordered.

"Oh? And who's going to make me?" Malfoy sniggered.

"What's going on here?"

Professor McGonagall suddenly appeared eyeing Harry and Draco sternly.

"Malfoy took Neville's Remembrall, Professor," Ron said quickly and Draco scowled.

"Was just looking," he said angrily dropping it back in front Neville.

"Right, Mr Malfoy return to your House table," Professor McGonagall said dryly, "Mr Potter, sit down!"

oOo

That afternoon the First year Slytherins and Gryffindors congregated on the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a crisp, cool, windy day, the grass rippled under their feet and the distant trees of the Forbidden Forest swayed in the breeze. The first years each took a place beside the twenty broomsticks that were layed out in two rows on the grass. Harry noticed that each broom was decidedly worn and battered looking and he guessed that the one he'd chosen might've been in reasonably good condition during his father's days at Hogwarts judging by the look of it. He just hoped it wasn't so old that he couldn't get it off the ground.

"Let's Begin!," their teacher Madam Hooch called loudly, she was a rather robust looking woman with short grey hair and sharp yellow eyes.

"I want you stretch your hand out over your broom," She instructed, "and then say firmly, 'Up!'"

Harry wondered what sort of bazaare method that was, as he was accustomed to simply mounting a broom that was already in his hand. Nonetheless he followed her instruction along with the rest of the class and was delighted when the broom flew swiftly up to meet his palm. Others, Hermione and Neville, were having much more difficulty. Hermione actually seemed to be telling her broom off.

"That just shows you there are no limits to her bossiness," Ron whispered to Harry.

When everyone finally had a broom in hand, Madam Hooch continued her lesson.

"Now, I want you to mount your broom," she said peering at them all keenly as they did as she said, "Tighten your grip Mr. Longbottom! I don't need anyone slipping off the end!"

Neville whimpered.

"Alright, now when I blow my whistle, everyone should kick off from the ground hover for a moment and then touch back down, understood?" She asked severely, and everyone nodded "Alright, on the count of three, One...Two...Mr. Longbottom!"

Neville, nervous of being left behind, pushed off too quickly and had his broom pointed upwards too high, he shot up into the air quickly with no idea how to control it.

"Come back!" Madam Hooch shouted but Neville was screaming too loudly too hear her as he continued to zoom upwards into the sky. Suddenly he seemed to look down and notice just how high up he was, with that he slumped sideways and slipped off his broom, plummeting towards the ground. The class screamed but Madam Hooch was already in motion as she dashed forward to catch Neville. Despite this, he landed with a sickening thud and everyone rushed forward to gaze worriedly down at him lying on the grass.

Madam Hooch was busy checking him for injuries. "He's fine," she said in a relieved tone, "Just a broken wrist I think, lucky boy, I'll just have to take him to the Hospital Wing." She lifted the whimpering Neville up, supporting his shoulders and turned to the others, "If any of you takes a broom into the air before I get back you'll be on the train back home faster than you can say Quidditch!"

In her absence everyone began talking excitedly about Neville's accident.

"Did you see his face?" Malfoy scoffed, "I thought he was going to be sick!"

Crabbe and Goyle laughed stupidly.

"Leave him alone, he could've been really hurt!" said Parvati Patil.

"Worried about your boyfriend Parvati?" Pansy Parkinson asked nastily and Parvati rolled her eyes.

"Look! what have we got here?" Malfoy said suddenly dashing forward to the place where Neville had fallen, "It's that stupid ball Longbottom had at breakfast."

"Give it here Malfoy," Harry said.

"No Potter," Malfoy smirked, "I will not give to you, I think maybe I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it...Like on the roof!"

"Give it to me!" Harry said lunging at Malfoy but the blonde boy leapt onto his broom and took off into the air. Harry admitted to himself grudgingly that Malfoy really could fly well, even as he climbed onto his own broom.

"Harry no!" Hermione cried, "You'll get in trouble, you'll be expelled!"

But Harry ignored her and kicked off into the air. For a moment he forgot about Malfoy and the Remembrall and just focused on the blissful feeling of the wind rushing through his hair. However, all to soon he opened his eyes and focused on Malfoy who was looking quite nervous now, not expecting Harry to actually follow him into the air.

"Come on Malfoy, " Harry said drawing closer to him quickly, " Give it to me!"

Malfoy looked worried for a moment then smiled wickedly.

"If you want it Potter, go get it!" He called and with that he drew his arm back and tossed the Remembrall into the sky. Harry barely had time to see in glinting in the sunlight before he was speeding down, chasing the falling ball. He heard the wind rushing past his ears, the sounds of his class mates screams and the beating of his own heart but the only thing he saw was the ball. Just a foot from the ground he stretched out his hand and caught it, landing softly on his feet. In that split second before his cheering class surrounded him he thought, reflectively, that he would've caught the Remembrall alot sooner had he had his own broom.

"Harry Potter!"

The stern voice of Professor McGonagall sounded from across the field. She was running towards them. The rest of the class quietened immediately.

"Never, in all my time at Hogwarts have I seen such a display!"

"Professor, Harry was only-"

"Shh, Miss Patil-"

"But Malfoy-"

"Be quiet Mr Weasley," Professor McGonagall said still staring at Harry, "Mr Potter come with me."

This is it, Harry thought as she led him up to the castle, he was going to be expelled before he'd even been at Hogwarts two weeks. He thought about his father and Sirius and Remus and all the mischief they'd gotten up to in their day. They still made it through school without being expelled. A nasty voice in his head whispered 'they were probably clever enough not to get caught'. Then he thought of his mother and how disappointed she would be and imagining her face made him feel even worst of all.

"Hello, Professor Quirrell, " Professor McGonagall said stepping halfway into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, "Could I borrow wood for a moment?"

Wood? What was wood? A stick she was going to beat him with? He'd heard about McGonagall's strict disciplinary methods from his parents but he hadn't thought she would actually beat him.

However, to Harry's relief, Wood turned out to be a person. A stocky fifth year boy to be exact who looked a little nervous himself and confused as to why he was called on by Professor McGonagall. He eyed Harry curiously as she showed them to an empty classroom.

"Wood," she said turning to face him, "I've found you your seeker."

Wood stared at her in amazement then turned to Harry.

"Really?" He asked in surprise.

"Really," Professor McGonagall said with a wry smile, "Wood meet Harry Potter. Potter, this is Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Woodm, this boy's a natural, I've never seen anything like it. He caught that ball in his hand out of a fifty foot dive, landed right on his feet. I doubt Charlie Weasley could've matched it."

Wood was practically dancing with glee by now.

"Ever played Quidditch Potter?" He asked excitedly.

"Er, yeah usually Chaser..." Harry trailed off bemused by what was going on around him. So, he wasn't in trouble?

"He's just the right build for a Seeker," Wood said distractedly, "small, light...he'll need a broom, something fast like a Cleansweep Seven or the new Nimbus."

"I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first year rule." Professor McGonagall said,"Goodness knows Gryffindor needs some fresh talent. I couldn't look Professor Snape in the face after our last match against Slytherin. If you always fly like you did today Potter, I know we have high hopes of winning the House Cup."

Professor McGonagall suddenly gave Harry a rare bright smile.

"I dare say your father will be overjoyed," she said in an amused tone, "Infact, I think I'll write the letter informing him of this news myself."

And then she laughed lightly and strode out of the room, followed by an enthusiastic, babbling Wood. Harry was left in silence to ponder what on earth had just happened.

Hope you liked it dudes!

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