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CHAPTER ELEVEN: "Are You Outta Your Mind?!" & FLYING

You know it's all the same, another time and place
Repeating history and you're getting sick of it
But I believe in whatever you do
And I'll do anything to see it through
- Taylor Swift "Change"

Slytherin! If he hated anything, it had to be Slytherin. Even though Fred, George and Percy accepted it, his mum had sent a Howler that shattered glass -- Ron took it that she didn't like it very much. He had written to Ginny a week ago.

Hi Gin,

In the two weeks of being here, I miss you and Mum and Bill and Charlie. I really wish I could say that Hogwarts is horrible to make you feel better, but its awesome! Fred and George have already set off some Dungbombs and gotten a few weeks of detention for other things. Something that you probably already know is that I'm in Slytherin. That's right. Now, kindly pick your jaw up, I'm not freaking out… anymore. It's fine, and remember Harry Potter -- that boy from the Platform -- is in Slytherin, too. The Daily Prophet has already started a story about it. Bloody Rita Skeeter. It's insane, but it's fine. Fred, George and Percy have said that me in Slytherin is fine, I've started to have a few friends in different houses, so I'm not alone.
How's home? When I'm kinda lonely, missing the Burrow, I make a list of what I miss. It's kinda long, so I won't add it. But it does include you and Mum at the top, along with my Cleansweep and Mum's cooking.

Love ya, I'll write soon,
Your youngest brother,
Ron

He still hadn't received her answer. Ron had tried to sound cheerful and happy, but he mostly just made up a bunch of stuff. He didn't have any friends; Potter had ignored him, the other Slytherins made fun of him being a blood traitor and not having money like they did, and the others from houses pitied him; not a good way to make friends, he had learned.

Ron went up to the Great Hall by himself, as usual, and pulled some toast towards him. Someone had left a newspaper beside him, so he took it and opened it.

OUR SLYTHERIN SAVIOUR?

Ron sighed, couldn't they come up with other things? It had caused quite a scandal when the 'saviour of the Wizarding World' had been Sorted into Slytherin, a house notorious for producing Dark wizards. When they found out that he was friends with a Malfoy -- Merlin help us! Ron didn't want to think how long that would go on. Along with being an old pureblood family, the Malfoys were some of the Death Eaters that no one could prove were Death Eaters. Ron continued reading.

When the tradition of Sorting eleven-year-old wizards and witches began at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, most knew that Harry Potter was going to be Sorted that year. What no one expected was that he would end up in Slytherin -- a house that has had every Death Eater to date. Nor that he would make friends with children of Death Eaters. Including the Malfoys, Zabinis, Notts, Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons and others. Much mystery surrounds the night of October 31st, 1981, many theories have swept the country. No one knows the truth, but there is one theory more popular than ever before -- surprising since it was one of the least supported during the 1982 Poll (see pg 19 for results) but most now believe that Harry Potter He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named thought to be another Dark wizard and set out to kill him to make sure he had no competition. Harry Potter was struck with a Killing Curse and should have been blown apart, yet he survived with only a scar -- perhaps powerful Dark Magic in his early years. That would suggest that he had a natural Darkness in him, an affinity for Dark Magic. An intriguing theory, given Harry Potter's friends and Sorting. (continued on pg 14)

Ron shut the newspaper, but wondered if Potter was a Dark wizard. The bloody saviour certainly believes in the propaganda enough, Ron thought angrily. He still hadn't forgotten when he was insulted, but Ron couldn't really guess what Potter was. He seemed to be Light or Dark depending on his mood.

Ron looked down the Slytherin table at Potter, who was laughing with Malfoy, Zabini and Nott. Sons of Death Eaters, not the first choice of friends most saviours take. Malfoy said something else, and a bell chimed; time for class. While Potter's friends continued out, Potter went right up to Ron and dropped something onto the table.

It was a little slip of parchment. Ron unfolded it and looked at the words. Only two, but it made him second-guess what he had just read, and what Ron had been thinking. He smiled and put the parchment in his pocket, swallowed his toast and slung his bag over his shoulder.

This time when he passed Harry and friends Ron had a smile for them. The little paper seemed to weigh heavy in his pocket as he could hear the question: "What does it mean by that smirk?" and Harry's answer: "I dunno." behind him. Ron took the paper out again when he reached the Transfiguration class and sat down, looking at the words.

I'm sorry.

* * *

"Still don't think you should've done that," Draco whispered to Harry.

"I know." Harry took out some parchment and a quill, starting to write down the notes on the blackboard, others did the same but Draco stayed stiff.

"If he finds out--" Draco started furiously, but Harry saw how worried he really was.

"He won't."

For the rest of the class there was just the scratching of quills and McGonagall's barking voice as they tried to turn a beetle into a button -- which no one, Slytherin or Hufflepuff alike, could do. When they left, Blaise came up to Harry and handed him a clipping from the Daily Prophet, smirking.As soon as Harry saw the title of OUR SLYTHERIN SAVIOUR? he threw it in the garbage.

"I don't wanna read about me," he said to Draco.

"I wouldn't either, but you've gotta get used to that stuff," he replied. "If you're famous, the Prophet's always going to be looking for some story about you, and Rita Skeeter? Of course!" Draco turned to the others. "You guys go on ahead."

Blaise and Theo shrugged and walked off, but Crabbe and Goyle stayed.

"Go!" Draco ordered.

The two thugs left after the others, leaving Draco and Harry alone.

"Why are you still so jumpy?" Harry asked. And he was, whenever another friend would mention Mudbloods or Muggles or anything like that, Draco would leave the room angrily and when the others would get too close (one foot) he would inch away and bite his tongue. "It's been nearly a week. And cheer up; it's Flying next. How could anything happen in Flying? It's not Moral Class. Just calm down, you don't need to be so freaked until someone finds out!"

"I don't give a damn when they find out!" Draco snapped back.

"You've got to calm down," Harry repeated quietly. "If you're like this they'll find out in a few minutes that something's up. They aren't stupid, Draco. They'll add two and two together."

"I know. I know. They'll find out anyway." He took a deep breath and said his next words quickly. "So better sooner than later. They've gotta know."

For a long moment they didn't say anything.

"What?" Harry finally laughed, thinking Draco was joking. "You freak out that someone'll find out and now you want to tell them personally?"

"Who said anything about me telling them?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no, NO!" Harry said, seeing where Draco was going. "You want me to tell them? Are you outta your goddamned mind?"

"Do you really want an answer to that?" Draco counter-asked.

Harry ignored Draco's question.

"When would you like me to?"

"Today."

Harry's eyes widened.

"When today?"

"After dinner."

He noticed that Draco was fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt and shuffling his shoes; exactly what he did when Mudbloods were brought up and he forced himself to stay put.

"You worried?"

"'Course."

"Why? I'm the one that's telling them! You just wanna get this over with?"

"Yes and no. Yes, I wanna get this over with. No, I don't want anyone to know."

Draco turned on his heel and went after the others. Harry followed him, deciding to not ask any other questions.

So in a few hours' time I'll go to having just Draco and maybe Ron and Hermione as friends, Harry thought. I just hope they've heard the phrase "Don't kill the messenger." If they haven't, I'm dead as dead can be. But they probably haven't… Goodbye, cruel world!

He resolved not to think about it anymore, he had other problems: flying, for instance. The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself on a broomstick; something, he knew, would set him apart from those living in magical homes. But that was easier said than done.

Harry then wondered what the hell was going to happen with Draco's parents. The way that Draco was acting about them, it seemed that they would be ready to kill him when he went home. He hoped that Draco was just overreacting, but a small part of him doubted that. Harry's mouth was open to ask the question, but he shut it. He didn't want to know.

* * *

"Alright, everyone step up to the right side of their broomsticks!" Madam Hooch barked. She had white hair and amber eyes, and a voice that rivalled McGonagall's. She wore blue and white robes that had a small crest on them: two broomsticks crossing, their handles pointing to the ground, and a large R.

Draco, Harry and the other Slytherins and Gryffindors stepped up to their broomsticks.

"Now, I want you to stick your right hand over your broom and say, 'Up'."

She demonstrated and the broom zoomed up to her waiting hand.

There were cries of, "Up" but most brooms turned on the ground, or just stayed still. Harry's, Draco's and some Gryffindor's also did. Harry's broom had a kick to it; it was shoving at his hand, trying to get in the air.

"Whoa."

Harry could feel the magic the broom was trying to release.

When most people's brooms were in their hands, Madam Hooch went around and directed the few that still had trouble; Hermione and a round-faced Gryffindor, to name two.

Madam Hooch returned to her place at the top of the two rows of kids and said, "I want you to mount your broom, make sure you grip firmly. You don't want to be sliding off the end."

She demonstrated again and watched the class swing their legs over their brooms and holding so hard that their knuckles were turning white.

Harry noticed that Draco was mounted differently; his hands were much farther up. Harry pointed that out and Draco snapped, "This is how I always do it."

He would normally be a bit offended, but he saw Draco's face and let it slide. His face was a shade of pale that Harry attributed to Mudbloods and beliefs, that showed his mind was clearly somewhere else altogether.

Madam Hooch went down the line, again, checking the grip and position of everyone. When she got to Draco, she redirected his hands, and got the same snippy response that Harry got. After being told that he'd been doing it wrong for years, Draco muttered something about his father and changed his hands.

"Now!" she said. "When I whistle, kick off from the ground hard, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down."

There were scattered nods from the kids, and a growing pit of anxiety started to come into clear focus and Harry realized he actually was going to do this.

"One—"

Madam Hooch brought the whistle to her lips.

"Two—"

One Gryffindor boy kicked off before the whistle touched Madam Hooch's lips. He rose slowly, then faster and faster until he was at the hight of the tallest building. He shouted, "Down! Down!" at his broom, but it didn't work. It smashed into the wall again and again, then he fell and his shirt caught a decorative light on the closest wall. Then, with a sickening thud, his vest came off and he fell into a pile on the ground, whimpering.

Madam Hooch went over to him and said to the class, "Nobody move while I take this boy to the Hospital Wing. If I see one broom in the air when I come back, the one riding it will be out of here faster than they can say Quidditch."

Draco bent down and picked something up from the grass. It looked like a very large marble, filled with white smoke with a gold band around the centre.

"Did you see the big lump?" He smirked. "Maybe if he gave this a squeeze, he mighht've remembered to fall on his fat arse."

Harry, not as inconspicuously as he wanted, kicked Draco in the shin. To his surprise, Draco kicked back and said to the crowd, "Maybe I should leave this somewhere for Longbottom to collect? How about... up a tree?"

He kicked off and rose twenty feet or so in the air, and started tossing the marble like a juggler. "Anyone want to join me?" he dared.

Harry rolled his eyes and kicked off himself. Rising into the air, the wind blowing through his hair, Harry forgot everything else, but it came back when he saw Draco's smile.

"C'mon, Draco, give it back," Harry asked. "What's so fun about this?"

"The look on his face when someone tells him what happened to his precious Rememberall."

Draco winked and raised his arm to throw it.

Harry leaned forward and urged his broom ahead. It worked, the broom shot forwards to Draco, who dodged it neatly.

Draco lowered his voice. "I need to do something to occupy my thoughts."

Harry was tempted to let him throw the Rememberall, but had a feeling that Draco was playing him.

"Just drop it."

"You asked for it."

Draco dropped the Rememberall and it fell fast, but Harry was faster. He leaned forward again and charged for the glass ball that was spinning for the ground. He caught it a foot from the ground and skinned his knees in the process, but he caught it. He held it up for Draco to see, but he was already on the ground with Blaise and Crabbe beside him.

Harry just hoped that Madam Hooch wasn't back yet and no teacher saw that.

A few others clapped him on the back, Harry gave Ron the Rememberall and said, "You give this to the boy."

Someone asked why he did that and everyone else fell quiet. Apparently, they all wanted to know why. Including Harry. Maybe he had wanted to help Draco. Maybe he wanted Draco to be a better person. Maybe he just didn't want that boy to fall from a broom, make an idiot of himself and lose his Rememberall. But those were answers that Harry didn't really want to give.

"I wanted to," Harry replied.

"Class dismissed!" Madam Hooch just came back, and had shouted the words to the class, scaring everyone – Harry most of all. "We'll continue next time."

* * *

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