{I don't own HP and that really sucks. What a shame! What a shame! What a shame! What a shame! I would make big bucks. **To the tune of 'Row Row Row Your Boat." I also do no own that.** }

Author's Note: Well, now that most of the exposition is done we can finally get to the thick of the story! Hopefully things will get even more interesting from here. Please leave a review and let me know how you like the story/chaper. I'll try to answer any questions without giving anything away. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

It was a little after three, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron were enjoying the beautiful day on their way to see Hagrid. None of them had seen much of the grounds prior to this. The castle was big, but the grounds of Hogwarts were even bigger. Ron had eagerly pointed out the way to the Quidditch field, but Harry didn't want to keep Hagrid waiting.

They soon reached Hagrid's small wooden house, which was right on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. While it didn't seem too bad at the moment, Harry knew he'd never want to be there at night. Even in Muggle forests, a lot of dangerous things came out at night. And most of those dangerous things could see a lot better in the dark than humans could. Hopefully, he'd never have to be in a situation where going out there in the dark was necessary.

Hagrid's house was extremely small, Harry realized upon arrival, especially when considering the size of the occupant. In fact, it was more of a hut than a house, for it only appeared to have one room. Outside of it, next to the front door, sat a pair of galoshes and a rather dangerous-looking crossbow, though Harry had to admit that a non-dangerous crossbow probably wouldn't be of much use.

Approaching the door, Harry knocked and was greeted with spree of scratching and loud, echoey barks. Hermione and Ron each took a not-so-small step back. Harry was about to follow when he heard Hagrid's voice.

"Get back you dumb dog!" Hagrid's muffled voice could be heard, after which there was a bit more scuffling before he opened the door.

"Sorry about that. Fang's just a little bit excited is all. Hiya Harry! Glad you could make it. I see you brought some friends along."

Harry smiled and nodded, gesturing first to Hermione and then to Ron. "You've already met Hermione when we are Diagon Alley. This is Ron Weasley."

"Another Weasley. I can't keep track anymore of how many times I've chased yer twin brothers away from this forest. Anyway, come on in! I'm makin' some tea, and I've also got some rock cakes for yeh!"

Ron eagerly made his way in. Harry and Hermione, who knew Hagrid a bit better than Ron and didn't like the sound of 'rock cakes', hastily claimed that they were full after having a large lunch before following Ron inside.

The house, unlike Harry's magical trunk, was just as small on the inside as it appeared from the outside. However, while small, it seemed cozy enough. In the far corner was an enormous bed covered with a patchwork quilt. Nearby was a fireplace, on top or which Hagrid was boiling water for tea in a copper kettle. In the middle of the house, where Ron was now sitting, was a wooden table. Above it, hanging from the ceiling, were some hams and pheasants.

Hagrid was standing by the door, smiling, and he gestured for them to sit down. At his side was a large boarhound, obviously the "Fang" whom Hagrid had been talking to. After Harry and Hermione had joined Ron at the table, Hagrid took the kettle and poured the water into a teapot. He also put some rock cakes on a plate and put it on the table.

Harry and Hermione were very happy to have claimed to be full, for the rock cakes were rightfully named. They looked like hard lumps with raisins in them. Hesitantly, Ron picked one up and took a bite. The crunch that followed caused Harry and Hermione to cringe, and Ron slowly tried to stash the rock cake under his chair.

While Hagrid didn't notice Ron, Fang certainly did. Admittedly, Harry thought, Ron's movement did look like he was trying sneak Fang food under the table. Regardless of Ron's intent, Fang quickly rushed over to Ron and wolfed down the rock cake. Ron was happy with that at first, but he was considerably less so when Fang didn't leave, instead resting his large head on Ron's knee and proceeding to drool. All Ron could do was close his eyes and try not to think about why his leg felt wetter and wetter.

Hagrid, unaware of what had just transpired, began to ask the trio questions about school and their classes. Harry and Hermione began talking about their classes while Ron threw in the occasional affirmative grunt, still trying not to think about exactly where he was.

They all agreed that Transfiguration was a bit slow at first, but they knew things would get more exciting and complicated as they got more experienced. Harry's current favorite was Charms, and Hermione (of course) couldn't decide on a favorite. Ron was more vocal on the classes he disliked, namely History of Magic and Potions.

"Ron, both of those classes have such potential. Maybe you're just not applying yourself enough," Hermione chided.

"Or maybe it's the professors," Harry remarked darkly.

"Harry, both of the professors are very qualified to teach in their respective subjects. Professor Binns has a lot of experience, and Professor Snape is well-known in the magical world for his skill." Despite any person opinions, Hermione felt she had to defend the professors. That was how it should be, she thought. That's what she had always been taught and the rules she had been given.

"Hermione, come on. Binns is a ghost, and he should have been replaced long before he died. The guy's more effective than sleeping pills. And where to start with Snape? The man's horribly biased, doesn't help students who need it, doesn't encourage learning, and to top it off, he seems to hate me. He's out to make every class a living nightmare for me!"

"Rubbish," Hagrid answered. "There's no reason for him to. He's got tons of students, Harry. Why should he single you out? Do you really think he takes the time, after hours, to specifically think up ways to hurt you? No. After all, what's not to like?" Hagrid finished with a reassuring grin toward Harry and a pat on the back.

Seeing that he couldn't make the others see, Harry dropped the subject. He knew the truth, though. He could see it in the man's eyes when he looked at Harry. For whatever reason, Snape hated Harry. And there was nothing Harry could do about it. Maybe.

"Aren't there any sort of evaluations of teachers here?" he asked. "Is there some sort of complaint system or some general way of keeping teachers in line?"

"I think all Hogwarts stuff goes to the Board of Governors," Ron pointed out, finally coming back into reality. It seemed Fang had gotten bored and had moved to sit over by the fire. "My dad was talking about them a while back. I think Malfoy's dad got on it somehow. Dad was saying that he couldn't believe anyone in their right mind would put that guy in charge of a school. Plus, Snape and Malfoy are old pals, Dad said, so good luck getting him kicked out that way."

However, Hagrid shook his head. "The Board's in charge of a lot of stuff these days, but the staff isn't one of them. Pretty new actually. I think I've got it somewhere…" Hagrid went over to a stack of papers and picked up the one on top. "They talked about in today's issue of the Daily Prophet."

Holding up the paper, Hagrid began to read an article about a recent law change. Apparently the Minister of Magic had pushed for (and succeeded with) a motion that gave the authority for hiring, assessing, and firing staff of magical schools solely to the Headmaster.

As interesting as that might have been, an article on the back of the paper caught Harry's eye. It described an ongoing investigation about a Gringotts vault break-in. Coincidentally, the date was the same as when he and Hagrid had been Gringotts. The estimated time was quite close to when they'd been there as well. A bit too coincidental, Harry thought. Hagrid didn't seem like quite the bank-robbing type, but he was certainly quite big. Harry could also remember him acting strange that day and that he had talked to McGonagall about picking some mysterious thing up.

"Hagrid," Harry interrupted, "have you seen this article?" Harry watched Hagrid closely as he flipped the paper around and began reading, looking for any reactions that would hint to what had happened.

"Yeah, a bit," Hagrid admitted. "Didn't really think Gringotts could get broken into, especially without catching the guy who did it."

As he continued reading, though, his eyes grew wider. "Blimey," he muttered, thinking none of the children were listening, "that's the same vault I emptied out for Dumbledore. Good thing too. Wonder if he knows about this."

When Hagrid looked up, Harry made sure to be intensely staring at Ron and Hermione, pretending to be following their conversation. Apparently, Ron had said something about Flying lessons starting soon, which Hermione was not looking forward to.

"I mean honestly, there are much better ways to travel. Even Muggle transport is better than a broomstick, with your being sheltered from the elements and all."

"A broom's amazing. It's such a great feeling, soaring up there and feeling wind in your face. And without brooms, there'd be no Quidditch, and we wouldn't want that!" Ron laughed to himself, missing Hermione's comment under breath about how she would be quite happy if Quidditch had never been invented.

Seeing an opening, Harry informed Hagrid that they should probably get going because they didn't want to miss dinner. Hagrid regretfully agreed, but he gave them each a handful of rock cakes. "You can save 'em for dessert! Don't worry, they won't get stale!"

As they walked back, Harry reflected on what had gone on. Despite the rock cakes, things had gone pretty well. He'd talked with Hagrid, Ron, and Hermione and learned a few things. Maybe he could throw the rock cakes at Malfoy and his goons if the Slytherin tried to confront Harry again like on the train. He hadn't seen much of Malfoy this week, besides in Potions as Snape's pride and joy. Maybe he could throw a rock cake at Snape. As he walked back to the castle, Harry envisioned a certain Potions Master coming into contact with a certain hard lump with raisins.

It was the day of the first Flying lessons, and Harry was not looking forward to them. Besides in Potions, he had managed to avoid seeing or hearing Draco Malfoy. However, when looking at a notice pinned up in the Common Room, he saw that Gryffindors would be having their lessons with none other than the Slytherins.

For the past week of Potions class, Malfoy had gone on and on about his skill on a broomstick. He'd complained loudly to anyone who would listen about the rule preventing first year students from having brooms. He would also tell stories of his marvelous feats, such as the time he was chased by Muggle flying machines and the time when he taught some World Cup Quidditch star a few tricks.

Malfoy was obviously making up his wondrous stories, but he wasn't the only one. Almost all the male students from magical homes would talk about Quidditch and their skill on a broom. Seamus supposedly had a broom given to him by a leprechaun, and Ron could apparently ride broom through the woods with his eyes closed. Harry would have paid big money to see Ron try to attempt said feat. Neville, who had never been on a broom in his life, was one of the only ones that didn't try and boast.

While Harry knew that Malfoy was lying about his feats, he also knew that Malfoy probably at least had ridden a broom. Unfortunately, that put him and almost everyone else above Harry. While Harry wasn't worried about riding a broom, what did make him feel anxious was the prospect of looking like an idiot in front of Malfoy and the other Slytherins.

Hermione, too, was not looking forward to the Flying lessons. She had been researching for days, trying to study technique and tips. The thought of being up in the air, sitting only on a broomstick, terrified her. Harry had tried to reason with her, and to point out that she couldn't learn everything in a book, but she wouldn't hear a word.

While he hadn't researched with books, Harry had talked to Ernie and Terry about brooms. Both had tried to help Harry as best they could.

"I haven't ridden too many times," Terry had replied, "but my mom's got an older broom at our house that I used to go out on. She was a Chaser on her House Quidditch team, so she loved giving me pointers. Just keep your grip firm yet relaxed. Don't just sit stiff as a board. You've got to feel your way through. That's what she always told me."

When Harry asked him how hard flying was, Terry smiled. "My old dad's been up on a broomstick a few times, and he's a Muggle. Don't worry, Harry, you'll be fine."

Ernie had been of a similar opinion. "Riding a broom's actually quite easy. I've done it plenty of times. Even got an Uncle who used to be a Beater for Puddlemere United. It doesn't take much to learn how and become adequate, but it takes a great deal of skill to be more than just good. Just about anybody can ride a broom, but very few can master the finer points of flying."

Their advice had reassured Harry of his safety, but he still didn't feel any better about seeing Malfoy.

At three-thirty, Harry went with other first-year Gryffindors onto the grounds for the first flying lesson. It was a clear, sunny day, perfect flying conditions according to some of the more knowledged students. The Slytherins were there, standing by a bunch of line up brooms.

Harry had heard students of all Houses complain about the school brooms. Some said that they vibrated or got hot with too much altitude. Others said they couldn't fly straight. Fred and George claimed that the brooms shot fireworks if you hung upside down, but Harry had a feeling they just wanted to see if Ron was gullible enough to try it.

When the Gryffindors arrived, the instructor, Madam Hooch, told them all to stand by a broom. When they each had a broom, she told them to extend their right hand and say, 'Up.'

Harry's broom jumped into his hand on his first try, but he was one of the few who had succeeded. Some brooms rolled around a bit or came up halfway. Only a few, including Malfoy and Harry, had brooms in their hands. It seemed to Harry that a much more sensible approach would be to simply pick up the broom, but he figured that suggesting it wasn't worth it.

When everyone was holding a broom in one hand, though Harry suspected some had cheated and just picked it up, Madam Hooch showed them how to grip their brooms. Harry was quite amused when Hooch told Malfoy he was doing it completely wrong, especially since she had just come from telling him he was a natural.

After what seemed like a very long time, they were finally ready to actually fly. They were to kick off, levitate a couple feet up, and then come down. Madam Hooch was just about to let everyone go when Neville started going up.

Neville clearly had no idea what to do and had obviously kicked off accidentally. Hooch tried to help, but Neville was up over twenty feet before he came back down hard. Without his broom.

Rushing to the facedown boy on the ground, she declared he only had a broken wrist. Madam Hooch informed the students that she would be taking Neville to the hospital wing. Any student who used their broom while she was gone would be out of Hogwarts, she claimed. With her short, gray hair and yellow, hawk-like eyes, she definitely looked intimidating. Harry watched as she helped a sniffling Neville back into the castle.

The moment she was gone, Malfoy burst into laughter. "Maybe if he'd thought to fall on his ass he'd be in better shape about now." The blonde boy then walked over to a shiny glass orb that had fallen from Neville's pocket. Harry recognized it as the Remembrall Neville had recently gotten from his grandmother, which he regularly needed to stay on top of things.

"Hand it over, Malfoy." Harry's voice was low, but all the students heard it. It wasn't a suggestion.

"And why would I do that, Potter? I think I'll take it up here. Plant it on a castle roof. Maybe on a tree, or in the middle of the lake. Or perhaps I'll see how high I can drop it from before it shatters." With that, Malfoy climbed onto his broom and sailed into the air.

Harry went for his own broom. He knew that it probably wasn't a good idea, but he didn't care. He had an undeniable urge to fly, and he knew he'd never get anywhere in normal flying class. If he got Neville's stolen Remembrall, he'd have a good excuse and maybe look like a bit of a hero in the process. Ignoring Hermione's protests, Harry climbed onto his broom and kicked off the ground.

It was more wonderful than he could possibly have imagined. The feelings of freedom and joy as he soared into the air were unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Even if the broom was low in quality, Harry still felt he could make it do whatever he wished it to. It was like an extension of his body.

He was brought back down to earth, though thankfully only figuratively, when he spotted Malfoy staring at him. The pale, blonde couldn't seem to comprehend what Harry had just done. He had planned to soar above Potter's head, cuffing him occasionally on the head. His father wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, so there was no risk of getting in trouble. Malfoy hadn't expected Harry to follow him. He certainly hadn't expected Harry to be at all decent on a broom.

"One last chance" Harry growled. That was enough for Malfoy, who dove back down to the ground. However, before retreating, he took Neville's Remembrall and threw it as hard as he could.

For Harry, time seemed to slow. He watched the orb leave Malfoy's hand and soar away in the other direction. He leaned forward, guiding his broom toward it while he accelerated, wind rushing past his ears. He then went into a steep dive as the ball sank in the air. Reaching his arm out, he grew closer and closer, even as he got closer and closer to a castle wall and to the ground.

Not a moment too soon, his hand connected with the Remembrall, and he leveled off only a short distance from the wall. Only short distance from Professor McGonagall's room, he realized. And there happened to a be a window right in front of him. A window that showed the stern, angry-looking expression on the face of Professor McGonagall, who was standing right next to the window. Harry couldn't hear what she said, but he could read her lips well enough to see that she was screaming his name. She then rushed off, no doubt on her way to the grounds where the rest of the students were located.

Harry began to sink slowly to the ground, the thoughts coursing through his mind consisting only of crap and I am so screwed.

Author's Note: Well, there you go. A bit longer than some of the more recent chapters, but I think you guys will be fine with that. I don't know about you guys, but I'm liking the way things are turning out in this story. I'm getting further and further from the books as I go on, but that was the intention. No point in writing the same story just reworded a bit. Anyways, please leave a review and let me know how you're liking things, especially with where the story is going. I'm hoping to bring the inter-House friendships out a bit more, and Ron is slowly becoming more of a target for pranks and jokes. (He might be a victim of some product testing.) But please, let me know how I'm doing. Thanks for all of your support; I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time!