No matter how serious life gets you are still going to have that one person you can be completely stupid with.

Chapter Ten:

"You want me to do what?" Harry demanded in a stern whisper as he looked up from the thick tome in his hands, using a finger to push up his sliding glasses as he peered across the study table.

Cassius Warrington was slumped back in his chair, leaning back on two legs, and looking completely nonplussed. Theo, sitting across the table from Harry and sitting right next to Warrington with a wary expression, scoffed. "Did you not hear the part where the Headmaster said: upon pain of death?"

"Oh please," Warrington scoffed right back. "The Headmaster's barmy, he's always so dramatic. Besides, you owe me for clearing your wand, Potter."

"He doesn't owe you a life debt!" Theo hissed furiously. "He could get killed!"

"Highly unlikely," Warrington shrugged and looked over his shoulder. Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen and he pulled a napkin full of chicken out of his pocket. "But if you do die you can always become Slytherin's second ghost."

Harry shot him a scowl but he couldn't deny that he too was interested in what was going on, on the third-floor corridor. It was so very tempting to just go take a peak, one look and then he could high-tail it out and back down to the safety of the dungeons. But the trek was long and would require him to not only go at night but to take stairs out in the open where any Professor or Prefect could catch him. And if he was caught, Harry knew he'd be in big, big trouble.

"C'mon Harry," Theo began gathering up his books. "We have to get to flying class before Warrington can think of any more clever ideas to get you killed."

Harry, grateful for the opportunity to leave without committing to break at least a dozen school rules, stacked Almanac of Alchemy and Famous Transmutation Alchemists and stuffed them in his bag. He hadn't found anything useful yet to fix his cauldron but he would study them later and if he still found no way to fix it, he'd owl order a new one in the morning. "Catch you later," he told the prefect before chasing after Theo.

Flying was a lesson Harry was looking forward to, but after Theo had explained that they were learning how to fly on brooms and not by their magic – his enthusiasm was dulled into mere intrigue. Apparently flying without a broom was one of those family magics that only a few possessed – the kind of magic muggle-borns would never be able to learn because they didn't come from a bloodline with abilities.

"Theo?" Harry called quietly as the pair made their way down to the main floor. Together they jumped the cursed step on the second-floor staircase and avoided the vanishing step at the bottom of the set of stairs. "Is there a way for – you know people like me who have no family to see if their bloodline has any family magic?"

Tossing him a sideways glance, Theo's lips curled into a smirk. "Let it go Harry – learn to fly on a broom like the rest of us peasants. You may have pulled off that curse," he emphasized the words and they both knew at once which one he was talking about – the Transmogrifian Curse that Harry had used to utterly annihilate the training dummy, "once, but you haven't been able to repeat it. Don't let it go to your head. Magic like that is powerful – much more powerful than we're capable of at the moment."

With a scowl, Harry shoved Theo and watched as the boy fumbled and got his foot caught on a stair that vanished. His bag went spilling all over the floor – pots of ink rolling behind statues and sheaves of parchment blowing across the stone floor in front of the giant wooden doors that had been left open to allow the cool autumn breeze in. "Dammit – that's my homework!" Theo snapped as he shot Harry a glare and began snatching up papers.

"Oh, come off it. It's not my fault you don't use a locking charm to keep your bag from spilling," Harry rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist. His wand holster released his wand and Harry gave it a wave muttering, "Stipant."

At once, Theo's books began to stack themselves neatly as the parchment scattered across the floor flew into the air and began organizing themselves into a neat pile. The quills and ink that had come spilling out all rolled back across the floor, retracing their paths as they came to sit neatly by the books. "There," Harry said with a note of irritation in his tone, "would you like me to pack your bag for you too?"

"Git," Theo muttered under his breath as he repacked his books into his shoulder bag. "Remind me next time to let Warrington talk you into suicide."

"You'd miss me," Harry told him confidently. "If I weren't here you'd be stuck with the likes of Malfoy or worse – Pansy Parkinson."

Both boys shuddered dramatically and grinned at each other as they walked out of the castle and began the trek down to the front lawn where the flying classes were being held. "Yeah well, as annoying and clueless as you are – at least you're interesting, Malfoy and Parkinson are as dull as a sack of rocks."

"So," Harry drawled slowly as they avoided a large puddle of mud that was bubbling and smoking suspiciously, "are you going to answer my question?"

"I don't know if I can," Theo admitted with an unrepentant smirk as Harry scowled in outrage. "You see mother has a large family tapestry which keeps records of family magic. I've never heard of any spell that can detect magic like that. You'll have to find your own family tapestry if you have one. A lot of light families don't have them – they marry for love, not power."

"So, I may or may not have family magic," Harry repeated monotonously as he tried to understand, "but the only way to know for sure is to find a magical tapestry that may or may not exist."

Theo shrugged as a huddle of gold trimmed robes came into view. "I suppose if you don't have one or can't find it you could always make one. I'm not sure how it's done though and if mother knew I was friends with you she'd likely pull me out of Hogwarts and send me to Durmstrang, so I can't exactly ask her either."

"What's wrong with being my friend?" Harry felt his muscles stiffen but he tried not to let it show much it bothered him. He must not have done a very good job because Theo gave him a sad smile. "I'm a decent enough wizard and you told me yourself the Potter family is just as old as the Notts and Malfoys."

"I told you, Harry," Theo gave him a friendly nudge with his shoulder, trying to coax out a smile and crack the tension that had fallen between them. "Mother's a traditionalist, she might not have the Dark Mark but if she found out how I befriended the boy who killed him…"

Voldemort. Harry exhaled and expelled all the air from his lungs as they trudged across the grass. It always came back to Voldemort. He was the wedge between Harry and Theo – and Harry suspected the rest of his house as well, though they had never said anything. "Why are you friends with me then?" He demanded as he slowed down, coming closer to the other first-year Slytherins and wanting to prolong their talk. It was the one question that had eaten at him since he had discovered Theo's ties to Voldemort.

Theo gave Harry an odd look and said, "He's dead, Harry. It doesn't matter what happened in the past, it's over."

A cold tendril of fear twisted around Harry's spine as his friend spoke. He wanted desperately to ask what Theo would think of their friendship if Voldemort was still alive but as he opened his mouth, his courage failed him. He didn't want to tell Theo that Professor Snape had told him that Voldemort was immortal – still alive even though his body had been destroyed. Or that he could return. Harry didn't want to risk losing their friendship – he didn't want to lose Theo. The boy was a fount of knowledge that Harry had come to rely upon in such a few short days and he liked Theo. He was Harry's - not his mother's or Voldemort's - Theo was his friend. "Right," he croaked out, his body numb and his mouth dry. "Of course."

As they joined the rest of their house in a group, their conversation died. But as Theo fell into a discussion on Quidditch, Harry stayed near the back – thoroughly lost in his own head. Voldemort wasn't dead and the only reason Theo was his friend, was because he thought he was. What if Voldemort regained a body? Would Theo turn Harry away? Would he become a Death Eater like his father and grandfather before him? Perhaps more importantly, what would Harry do if he did? He honestly couldn't say. He didn't even have time to ponder it long either because Madam Hooch arrived and her shrill whistle broke Harry out of his brooding.

"Welcome to flying," Madam Hooch called out, her yellow hawk-like eyes looking them all over as if looking for something. "Now, some rules. Until you all get comfortable on a broom none of you are to go higher than a few feet. You will raise up, get a feel for your broom, and then touch back down. Alright, enough talking. Each of you, stand next to a broom and say up."

Harry and Theo claimed brooms next to each other and across from Weasley and Longbottom. Harry narrowed his eyes at the boy who paled under his glare and looked to his feet as Madam Hooch motioned for them to begin. Harry dropped his gaze to the broom laying on the grass and said, "Up!"

Almost immediately the broom shot up into his grasp but it was the only one that did. Theo shot him a frustrated glare as his own broom rolled over. Harry snickered as Pansy's broom lay motionless and refused to budge for her. "Very good Mr. Potter," Madam Hooch called out with delight. "There may be some Quidditch talent in you yet. See here everyone, Mr. Potter will be one to watch for on the Quidditch Pitch, you mark my words."

At that moment Ron cried out as his broom came shooting up and whacked him in the face. The group of first-years snickered as he rubbed his forehead and kicked at the school broom. At the same moment, Longbottom's broom jumped into his hand and the boy wobbled dangerously from the force of the impact. Not long after, everyone managed to get their brooms up and they were finally free to mount and rise up a few feet in the air.

Harry was enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair a little higher than the others, though Madam Hooch never called him back down, when Longbottom's broom shot straight up into the air. The boy screamed in terror and Harry watched him spin uncontrollably for only a moment before he shot off after the dunderheaded boy.

"HARRY, NO!" Harry could only faintly hear Theo's cry over the wind rushing in his ears.

"MISTER LONGBOTTOM!" Madam Hooch screamed, her voice raising even over the gusts and Longbottom's terrified screaming. "MISTER POTTER! GET BACK DOWN HERE!"

But Harry kept flying, pushing his broom faster as Longbottom corkscrewed through the air. The exhilaration of flying so fast pumped through Harry's body as he ducked to avoid one of Longbottom's legs as the boy spun upside down. Quick as a flash, Harry caught onto Longbottom's robes mid-spin and pulled as hard as he could. "Let go!" Harry shouted and the boy let go of his broom just as Harry pulled.

Longbottom made strangled choking noises and his broom fell to the ground, cracking in half, just as soon as it was free. Harry, keeping tight hold of the monstrously stupid boy's robes as he dangled in the air making terrified squeaks and whimpers, flew fast to the ground and practically threw Longbottom on the ground as Harry spun in the air to a stop. The boy landed stupidly on his arse and then promptly fell back onto the grass in a dead faint.

There was cheering, a dull roar that he could barely hear over the rushing of blood in his ears, and Madam Hooch descended with a furious look. "Mr. Potter, that was incredibly reckless of you. Your first time on a broom and you think you can just jettison off?"

"But he was out of control," Harry whined, his gaze narrowed. "You didn't even have a broom and he was going to get himself killed."

"Be that as it may, there was no need to put two students in danger," Madam Hooch screeched like an owl as her hand shot out and grabbed hold of Harry's ear, "Professor Snape will determine your punishment."

Only the years of conditioning under the Dursley's brutal hands kept Harry from crying out as Madam Hooch pinched his ear so hard he felt like she might rip it off. "The rest of you will await my return with both feet firmly on the ground or you too will be marched to your Head of House."

Then she marched him into the castle and Harry tried to match her steps but his legs were short and her strides were long. She was practically dragging him through the halls as people pointed and whispered about him, his ear throbbing in pain as she kept it pinched tightly. Much to his horror, as they rounded a corridor corner that would lead them to the dungeons Professor Quirrell nearly ran into them – dropping his stack of parchments all over the floor. He stared at them with wide, disbelieving eyes as Harry glowered darkly at his flying instructor. "Oh, M-Madam H-Hooch, wh-what a s-ss-sssurprise. W-What h-happened?"

Harry wanted to rage out, he even had to quell the urge to stomp on her foot as her grip on his ear grew ever tighter. "Hello Professor," Madam Hooch greeted Professor Quirrell but there was irritation bleeding through which ruined her friendly greeting. "Mr. Potter here thinks he's above the rules. Another student lost control of his broom and Mr. Potter here took it upon himself to try and save the day despite knowing he was to stay where he was."

"You were just going to let him kill himself," Harry groaned as Madam Hooch yanked hard on his ear. "I was already in the air and I still have to get the git back for melting my cauldron, he can't die yet."

Professor Quirrell's lips twitched up into a faint smirk, "W-Would you l-l-like me to t-t-take him to P-P-Professor S-SS-SSSnape for you?"

Madam Hooch sighed and shook her head, "I think Severus will want to introduce Mr. Potter to Flint."

Harry could feel his face pale as his squirming stopped, his entire body went rigid. Flint? Was that some kind of student punishment for breaking the rules? The only flint Harry could think of was used to make fire. Would he be set on fire or burned for saving the Longbottom moron?

"I s-ss-sssee," Professor Quirrell gave a polite smile and with a quick whip of his wand his parchments flew into the air, organized themselves, and then tucked themselves neatly in his arms. "W-Well I m-must b-b-be g-going th-then."

Harry felt a stab of betrayal as Professor Quirrell walked away without ever looking back. It's not like he wasn't already angry with the man, but after what had happened the last time they had met Harry felt as if Quirrell owed him. He was almost sure he'd been cursed by his professor, for what reason he didn't know, but that fit hadn't been organic. But he'd kept his mouth shut and now the professor was walking away as he was being led to an awful punishment. He felt a searing anger rise up and Harry decided he didn't like the man, not at all.

All too soon Madam Hooch and Harry were standing in Professor Snape's office and said professor was glaring down at Harry with glittering onyx eyes as he watched Madam Hooch jerk him forward by the ear. "What has the boy done now?" Professor Snape asked, his voice deceptively soft.

"Nothing so bad as to warrant that glare, Professor Snape," Madam Hooch replied and Harry's head snapped up in surprise when she let go of his ear. "I think I've punished him quite enough already, but the boy is a natural on a broom. I thought you'd want to know he saved the Longbottom boy from another trip to the infirmary with only sheer natural talent on a broom. The Slytherin's may be the House Cup champions but you haven't won the Quidditch Cup in over a decade."

Professor Snape looked from Madam Hooch to Harry with his brows raised, "And you think he could change that?" He sounded skeptical and Harry was right along with him because he hadn't the first clue as to how to play Quidditch.

"You didn't see him fly," Madam Hooch grinned proudly and cuffed Harry on the shoulder. "Boy's a natural and judging by how he grabbed Longbottom out of a corkscrew dive – and his small stature – he could be the seeker you need. Merlin knows Higgs could use replacing. When was the last time he even caught a snitch?"

Professor Snape hummed thoughtfully as Harry shot his flying instructor a glare for her jab at his size, "I do believe he managed to catch it against the Hufflepuffs once last year."

Without warning and faster than Harry thought possible, Professor Snape grabbed hold of a small glass ball sitting on his desk and tossed it at Harry. Quicker than lightning, Harry grabbed it and held it in his hands. To his wonder, there looked to be an entire galaxy of stars within the small glass ball. "I will speak to Mr. Flint," Professor Snape told Madam Hooch and Harry recognized the dismissal in his tone, "and Albus about making an exception for Mr. Potter."

Madam Hooch obviously recognized the dismissal too because she turned to leave, but she stopped and gave Harry a serious look. "Do our house proud, Mr. Potter." With that, she left – leaving Harry alone with his Head of House.

Professor Snape looked at Harry as he took back the small glass orb and placed it back on his desk in a golden stand. "You saved Longbottom?"

His incredulity made Harry stiffen in annoyance. "Well I wasn't going to let him kill himself before I could curse him for ruining my new cauldron," Harry explained again. "I still have yet to find an Alchemy book that actually explains Alchemy. I've found loads on Alchemical achievements but it's like they don't want me to learn Alchemy."

"Indeed," Professor Snape raised a single brow as his lips curled into a secretive smirk. "Follow me, Potter."

Harry trailed behind Professor Snape as they wound their way through the dungeons and up towards the ground floor. His Head of House led him clear up to the third floor and Harry was struggling to keep up as he dodged the trick steps that Professor Snape seemed to have memorized and skipped with ease. They stopped outside of a door Harry had never seen before and as Professor Snape opened it, Harry heard the voice of Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva," Professor Snape drawled in slow, oily voice slick with what Harry could only interpret as triumph. "I need to borrow Mr. Flint for a moment."

When Harry peered out from around Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall's eyes locked onto him and her lips pursed into thin, angry lines. "Of course," she agreed but her tone was harsh and her gaze was stony.

A boy much taller and broader than Harry slid out of his seat under the furious gaze of Professor McGonagall. He was an older student, a fifth or sixth year at least, and Harry hadn't met him yet even though his robes were trimmed in green and silver, the Slytherin patch on his breast. "Professor?" The boy's tone a question as the door shut behind him. Harry grimaced at the boys awful yellowed teeth.

"Mr. Flint," Professor Snape nodded and looked at Harry. "This is Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter – this is Marcus Flint the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Flint, I would like you to take Mr. Potter and Mr. Higgs out tonight after dinner and see who is better. Should Mr. Potter win, I will talk to the headmaster about making an exception to the first-year rule."

Marcus Flint looked at Harry with a scrutinizing gaze. "You ever played Quidditch before, Potter?"

"No."

At this, the Quidditch Captain's brows furrowed together. "You even know the rules of Quidditch?"

"No."

Harry watched as the older boy scowled, "You ever even seen a Quidditch match?"

"No."

Professor Snape gave Flint a stern stare. "You will inform me of the results."

"Of course, sir," Flint agreed although he didn't look happy about it. "But we'll have to do it tomorrow night. Gryffindor has the field tonight for practice."

"I will write you a note," Professor Snape told him. "And Flint? I want this done quietly. Should the boy have talent I want him to be our ace up the sleeve. Do not let those mongrel spies catch wind of this."

"Of course, sir." With that Marcus Flint shot Harry one last scowl and turned back to re-enter his Transfiguration class. Harry caught a glimpse of Professor McGonagall's severe scowl just before the door closed.