- Aside from OCs and AUs everything is the property of J. K. Rowling-

-Chapter Four- Trial by Combat-

'Ah, Mr… Flamel.'

Harry had made his way down to the dungeons for his first Potions lesson as quickly as possible, but still entered the dark, cavernous classroom several minutes late.

The professor who swooped towards him as he came in was of middling height, with a sallow face surrounded by curtains of dark hair. Beetle-black eyes pierced him as the man strode past the rest of the class, robes swirling.

Harry frowned at the man's obvious, deliberate pause over his name. He knew that Professor Snape was the head of Slytherin house, and would thus be aware of who he was.

'I apologise for my lateness, professor.' He said politely, keeping his expression neutral. 'I had to have a few words with Professor Flitwick.' He excused himself, handing over the note.

Snape glanced at the parchment before scowling and crumpling it.

'Take a seat.' He told him abruptly. 'We will soon see whether a famous father can save you from disaster when you fail to arrive in time for your instructions.'

Harry hastily went to join Liram. Anthony and his new Slytherin friends had other lessons, so it was just the two of them surrounded by students Harry only knew by name and the house they had been sorted into.

'Begin.'

'What are we making?' Harry muttered to Liram as he dropped into the seat next to him.

'Blood Replenishing potions.' The other boy replied. 'I collected your case.' He nodded to the big black box sitting on the desk.

'Thanks.' Harry replied. He knew the Hogwarts house elves had delivered all of their potions cases to a store room in the dungeons, because even with space-enlargement and featherweight charms they would be too bulky and heavy to carry around the castle all day. 'Hang on, Blood Replenishment?' He asked. 'That's not a first year potion.'

'I know.' Liram agreed grimly. 'He's had all of the other classes making boil-curing mixtures, but this is at least twice as complicated. He claims the Hospital Wing is running low.' Liram rolled his eyes with his final words, showing Harry just what he thought of both Professor Snape's assertion, and the idea of first year students in their first ever Potions lesson supplying the Hospital Wing with concoctions.

'Mr Flamel. Not even three minutes into the part of my lesson you've bothered to attend and already showing off.' Professor Snape sneered from the front of the classroom.

Harry, who had been attempting to unpack and set up his gold cauldron as inconspicuously as possible, stiffened as he felt the entirety of the class turn to stare at him.

'My father insisted on buying me this equipment, professor.' He replied neutrally. 'He says that gold is the best material for cauldrons and other potioneering equipment.'

Even Professor Snape would not dare to question the expertise of Nicholas Flamel, he knew, but it didn't stop the retort.

'Indeed it is, Mr Flamel, and I quite understand that some parents are eager to give their children all the help they can.' He paused. 'Some children need it.'

'Yes, sir.' Harry agreed calmly, pushing back his irritation as he poked his wand to ignite the kindling beneath his cauldron.

'Is there nothing you're bad at?' Liram asked mournfully just over an hour later, staring at the glossy pink mixture that filled Harry's gleaming cauldron. Liram's potion wasn't bad, Harry thought as he looked at it; it was the right colour, but had nowhere near the sheen it should have.

'Potions isn't my strong suit. I've just had lots of practise.' Harry claimed, feeling a bit uncomfortable as he knew his was the only potion in the room that Madame Pomfrey would even take a second look at. 'The equipment gives me a bit of an advantage, and my father would cry with shame if he'd raised a child who didn't know what they were doing with a cauldron.'

'Mr Flamel?'

'Yes, professor?' Harry responded innocently.

'Please refrain from showing off to your classmates.'

Professor Snape's tone was sneering, but Harry noticed that the words themselves lacked the bite they might have had as he leaned over his cauldron to examine its contents.

'Barely adequate.' He declared eventually, summoning a clinking rack of phials with a stab of his wand and muttering a brief incantation to decant the potion into them. 'As for the rest of you…' He turned away to address the rest of the nervous-looking class. 'Two and a half feet of parchment on precisely why your potions all failed. Dismissed.'

Harry and Liram hastily packed up their equipment and fled the room. It was the end of the school day, so they headed up to the Great Hall, where they'd arranged to meet the others.

'How was it?' Tracey asked eagerly as they sat down with her, Daphne and Blaise at the Slytherin table.

Liram shrugged.

'As expected. Snape really is a wanker. Harry has yet to reveal a weakness.'

Tracey giggled at Liram's insult, but Daphne and Blaise were eyeing Harry.

'You managed to impress him with a boil curing potion?' Daphne asked.

Liram shook his head and replied before Harry could speak.

'He had us making Blood Replenishing potions for the Hospital wing. Harry's was the only one he didn't vanish at the end of the lesson.'

'How was Muggle Studies?' Harry asked curiously, changing the topic.

The three Slytherins, who'd all just had the class, looked at one another briefly before responding.

'Weird.' Tracey said eventually. 'It's like… they can do such cool stuff, but it's so complicated.'

Harry looked at her curiously.

'Well,' she expanded, 'like this aeroplane thing Professor Babbling was telling us about. It's like a flying machine with wings like a bird, only they don't move, and all the muggles sit inside the body and it takes them to different places. Apparently they can go like three times as fast as the fastest brooms and carry hundreds of people.' She rushed out, apparently excited.

Harry grinned at her, amused. He'd been on aeroplanes before to travel with his guardians as they went on various research trips. International Floo stations were confusing and tightly regulated affairs, besides, they couldn't manage hops of more than a couple of hundred miles in one go, which meant that to cross the Atlantic you had to trail through a dozen Flooports levitating above the waves, each with its own customs checks and complications.

'They can.' He agreed. 'They can also fly higher than any broom, because they push oxygen into the inside to stop everyone fainting from the altitude.'

'Wow.' Tracey said. 'Have you been on one?'

'I have.' Harry acknowledged. 'Although they're not really that exciting, to be honest. You just sit there and read books or watch films for hours until you arrive at where you want to go.'

'I'd still like to try one out one day.' Tracey said firmly.

'Dad doesn't trust them.' Liram said, swallowing a mouthful of the strange fruit he'd taken from a bowl on the table. When not in use for mealtimes or clubs, the Great Hall served as a kind of social space for the school, letting people from different houses mingle. That the house elves kept the tables well supplied with snacks throughout the day no doubt helped its popularity. 'Says they could fall out of the sky at any second.'

'But he's a wizard. He could use a broom to escape.' Tracey reasoned.

Liram shrugged.

'He doesn't really like brooms either. He leaves the athletic stuff to my mother most of the time. Speaking of which, Harry, the try outs for the Ravenclaw team are on Wednesday, straight after school.'

Harry nodded.

'I saw the board in the common room this morning. You're still up for going?'

Liram nodded.

'Yup. I was talking to Roger Davies earlier,' he said, naming the good-looking third year Harry had spoken to at the opening feast, 'and he says a couple of the Chasers left last year. We might just be in with a chance.'

'I was thinking of going for Seeker.' Harry said.

Liram frowned.

'But that's always the most competitive position on the team.' He objected. 'Plus, we have a decent Seeker, and apparently the reserve girl is pretty hot on a broom.'

Harry shrugged.

'I'm not really a team player.' He said. 'I might as well give Seeker a go.'

'It's up to you.' Liram agreed, though he sounded dubious.

'Anyway, I have to go now.' Harry said after glancing at his watch.

'Go? Where?' Tracey asked, confused.

'I'll tell you about it later.' Harry said, standing and shoving his bag over one shoulder. 'If it works out.' He muttered under his breath as he walked away.

He nodded to Anthony as the other boy entered the hall just as he was leaving, before hastening up the dizzying network of moving staircases to the Charms classroom on the third floor. He looked at his watch again before knocking, relieved to see he was on time.

'Come in, Mr Flamel.' Professor Flitwick's voice called cheerfully.

Harry entered the room to find the professor standing on the chair behind his desk and smiling as he faced a tall youth whose back was turned to him.

Harry couldn't help but admire the boy's clearly extremely fit form as he walked over to join them. He had taken off his outer robe to stand in his school trousers and shirt, the tailoring of which highlighted his broad shoulders and slim hips. The grey material clung to his lean arse and muscular thighs, and it was only the sudden pause in conversation between the two that dragged Harry's gaze away. He forced away his blush, but immediately felt it trying to rise again with new intensity as the boy turned towards him. The late afternoon sun caught in the gold of his hair and gleamed on his flawless, tanned skin. High, prominent cheekbones supported deep, dark grey eyes under sculpted brows. He was outrageously good-looking Harry thought, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. He forced his Occlumency barriers forward in an attempt to slow his heart rate.

'Mr Diggory,' The professor began, 'this is Harry Flamel. Mr Flamel, this is Cedric Diggory.'

'Hi.' The boy, who Harry suddenly decided made a better Adonis than his cat, flashed him a dazzling smile and extended his hand. Harry took it with as much confidence as he could muster, and swallowed as the warmth of the firm, steady grip seemed to burn its way up his arm. He looked into the other boy's eyes, which had narrowed slightly with appraisal, and fixed a grin in place.

'Hi.' He replied, struggling for the first time in his life for more words to say.

'So, boys…' Professor Flitwick interrupted after a few long seconds, and the two of them jerked their hands out of one another's, suddenly realising how odd their stance would seem.

'You're both trying to get into my Advanced Class.' Professor Flitwick continued cheerfully. 'I was just explaining to Cedric here about you,' he said, speaking to Harry, before addressing them both. 'So what I thought we could do is stage a mock duel between the two of you, and I will be able to assess whether you have what it takes to keep up with the older students.'

Harry nodded, though he noticed an uncharacteristic measure of nervousness mix with the excitement he normally felt before taking to the platform. The other boy's mere presence, standing less than two feet to his left, made it very difficult to concentrate on anything the professor was saying. He glanced over to see the golden-haired youth eyeing him, frowning more deeply.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' He asked, cautiously. 'I mean…' he began, sounding slightly, and adorably, awkward. 'I'm likely to have a lot more experience than you… and I've been training all summer to get into the Advanced Class.'

'Well, we're about to find out, aren't we?' Harry asked, the most he felt he could say with his suddenly dry throat.

'Excellent!' The professor exclaimed again, before jumping off his chair and walking round his desk. 'Follow me then.'

The two of them walked after the man, the top of whose head barely reached Harry's chest, as he led them from the classroom and into a big chamber further down the corridor. It was wide and shallow, with a high, vaulted ceiling and a big bank of windows filling the wall opposite the door. A standard-sized duelling strip stood on a platform perhaps four feet high that stretched in front of them.

'Take your positions, gentlemen.' The professor called as he walked around the left hand side of the platform to climb onto the chair on stilts that stood in front of the windows, facing the centre of the strip.

Harry and Cedric glanced briefly at one another before moving to opposite ends of the platform, Harry to the right and Cedric to the left. Harry shrugged off his robe as he mounted the steps, dropping it casually to one side. He quickly removed his shoes as well, knowing the stiff, polished leather would impede his movement, limited though it was by the width of the strip. Walking over to stand on the silver circle that marked his starting position on the midnight blue expanse of cloth, he flicked his Ollivander wand from its holster into his right hand, working his tie off with his left.

He looked up, having finished his preparations, to find the other boy in a similar state of dress.

'Mr Diggory, I know that you have a particular fondness for transfiguration when duelling.' Professor Flitwick announced. 'Do either of you gentlemen object to the standard five pieces of duelling clay being provided to each of you?'

Harry frowned. It was extremely unprofessional of the professor to reveal his opponent's strengths to him, whilst he remained an unknown quantity. He suspected that Flitwick was trying to even the odds by giving him advance warning, and it didn't seem to have bothered the other boy, but he felt a prickle of irritation nonetheless.

'Of course not.' Harry answered. Cedric had remained silent, so Harry assumed that his agreement was taken as read. No wonder, if he specialised in transfiguration. Duelling clay was a substance manufactured to be particularly amenable to all forms of transfiguration, able to be altered and remoulded rapidly and repeatedly with no lessening in the quality of the result.

Professor Flitwick nodded and reached into his robes to pull a lumpy grey-brown mass from them. He twirled his wand in a complicated pattern to tear it into ten equal pieces, before making a couple of short gestures to send five lumps landing in a straight line on the platform a few feet in front of each competitor.

'Gentlemen, you may bow.' He said.

Harry and Cedric paced forwards on sock-clad feet until they were ten or so feet apart. Harry looked into those captivating eyes for a moment before dropping into a respectful bow, mirrored by his opponent. They turned and walked back to their starting positions, exactly sixty feet apart from one another.

Cedric flashed Harry a heart-stopping grin as they turned around, before shifting to stand side-on, wand held steadily out in front of him. Harry took a moment to examine the other boy's stance, admiring his form as he did so. He thought he could read a slight caution in his body and expression, although he couldn't tell whether it was because of his unknown opponent, or because Harry was at least two years younger and he didn't want to harm him.

Harry assumed his own stance, standing almost side-on, but with his back foot poised to jerk him to one side. He held his wand low, grip loose.

'Ready.' The two boys called out almost simultaneously. Harry could feel the sudden, electrifying thrill of adrenaline running through his veins as Professor Flitwick conjured a red globe of light, hovering it at eye-level between the two competitors.

Red… White… Green… the orb flashed successively, before vanishing.

Harry swept his wand diagonally immediately, watching Cedric conjure a gleaming silver shield before doing anything else. But Cedric hadn't been the target of his powerful, wordless banishing charm. The five lumps of clay sitting in front of his opponent flew to one side, jerking beyond the perimeter of the wards surrounding the strip and slapping onto the stone floor. Harry, cutting his wand back down, banished his own clay in the opposite direction. Transfiguration during a duel wasn't really his style, and he wasn't going to let his opponent use his own resources against him.

Harry could see Cedric frown with sudden consternation behind his opalescent shield, and watched as it dropped suddenly, replaced by a rapid barrage of spellfire. Half a dozen underpowered Stunners flew towards him within the space of a couple of heartbeats, their lack of strength fading their normal bright red colour and making them more difficult to track. Harry flicked his wand rapidly, snatching the spells out of the air and deflecting them randomly out towards the wards.

Cedric's look of amazement was gratifying, and gave Harry a momentary opening he would have been mad to miss.

'Incarcerous.' He called, the first verbal spell of the match, and a thick mass of ropes snapped out of the end of his wand, writhing like snakes as they flew towards his opponent. Cedric managed to banish most of them, tearing the last couple to shreds with an overpowered Diffindo. Unfortunately for him, the ropes had been a distraction. Harry hadn't needed to cast the spell verbally, but hoped that it would prove an additional distraction as he fired a mass of invisible, silent disarming charms immediately after them. The lightning-quick reactions of his opponent meant that only a couple managed to touch him, but Harry only needed one. His opponent's wand jerked out of his hand and snapped across the distance between them for him to catch neatly. He kept his own wand raised. He knew it was extremely unlikely that Cedric could do anything particularly dangerous wandlessly, but he would be a fool to assume, and had been burned once before by such a mistake.

'Marvellous.' Professor Flitwick called, clapping. Harry wasn't quite sure why, when the entire duel had lasted barely ten seconds, but smiled and bowed to his stunned-looking opponent.

'Dyou want to go again?' He asked Cedric politely, suspecting that it was at least partly surprise that had been the other boy's downfall.

'No, no, no, I have seen quite enough.' Professor Flitwick interjected before the other boy could respond. 'I bid you both welcome to my Advanced Class.'

Harry and Cedric both looked at him, surprised. The professor chuckled before explaining.

'Excellent tactics. Very good reflexes. Even silent casting and spell deflection.' Flitwick summarised. 'You two are both forces to be reckoned with. Mr Diggory, you have clearly put a huge amount of work into your non-verbal spells over the summer, even if I didn't get to see any of your marvellous transfiguration. Mr Flamel, that was quite remarkable. Deflection is a skill even my most talented and experienced students struggle with, and yet you made it look effortless.' Harry smiled politely at the compliment as he went to return the other boy's wand to him. He swallowed even at the gentle brush of the other boy's fingers against his as he handed his weapon back.

'Well played.' He complimented, smiling.

Cedric Diggory shook his head, a small, rueful grin playing about his lips.

'Hardly, or at least not compared to you. I lasted what, eight? Nine seconds? Against a first year.'

Harry shrugged.

'I've had quite a lot of training.' He replied, trying to be modest, but barely repressing the broad grin that wanted to spread its way across his face.

'You've what?'

'I've got into Professor Flitwick's Advanced Class.' Harry repeated calmly to an amazed-looking Liram. He'd returned to the Ravenclaw common room after the duel to find Liram and Anthony sitting together in a corner, books open in front of them as they talked quietly.

'He let you in?' Liram asked again, sounding almost confused.

'He did.' Harry confirmed. 'He made me duel a guy called Cedric in third year, and let us both into the Thursday class afterwards.'

'Cedric Diggory?'

Harry turned in his seat at Padma Patil's exclamation.

'Yes.' He agreed, watching with amusement as Mandy Brocklehurst, sitting next to Padma, flushed bright red.

He turned back round when it seemed that Padma wasn't going to say anything more to him, leaning in to giggle and whisper to her friend.

'Cedric who?' Anthony asked.

'Diggory.' Liram replied. 'I don't know much about him, but I think his father is the head of one of the smaller departments at the Ministry. The Diggorys are an old family,' he continued, 'and they used to be very prominent, but they've lost most of their wealth and slowly drifted further and further away from power.'

Harry nodded, interested in spite of himself in the family of the boy he'd found his thoughts unable to move away from.

'What's the work?' He asked, trying to distract himself.

'Potions.' Liram replied. 'I've got that essay Snape set everyone except you, and Anthony's is something to do with other things the boil curing potion he made can be used as a base for.'

'Sounds exciting.' Harry said, smirking slightly before taking out his own book; a thousand page biography of Nicholas Flamel that had been written by someone who'd never met the alchemist, and that he was finding hilarious.

'Is that…' Anthony began, staring at the volume. 'A book about your father?'

'Yup.'

'Hogsmeade!' Tracey exclaimed at breakfast the next morning, reading the headline from Harry's paper. 'That's the village where the station is.'

'Yes.' Daphne agreed grimly, leaning across the table slightly to look at the front page article as Harry read the inside.

'I wonder what they're trying to achieve.' She murmured, returning her attention to spreading marmalade on a slice of toast. Sirius Black and Bellatrax Lestrange had apparently been spotted in Hogsmeade the afternoon before, although thankfully they hadn't repeated their tactics from Diagon Alley and attempted to burn it to the ground.

Liram snorted from his position next to her.

'Didn't you see their pictures in the Prophet a few weeks ago? They're clearly mad. They don't need to have objectives.'

Daphne shrugged, apparently unconvinced, but didn't respond.

'Are you looking forward to flying, Anthony?' Tracey said, smirking.

The bookish boy looked a little pale. All six of them had their first flying lesson that morning, and Harry had guessed from watching Liram quietly try to encourage his friend that Anthony wasn't exactly comfortable on a broom.

'Not really.' He replied miserably, poking unenthusiastically at his bowl of porridge.

'Have you ever flown before?' Blaise asked. Harry had been slightly surprised when he'd joined Daphne and Tracey with them at the Ravenclaw table that morning. Previously, he had sat with them when they ate with the Slytherins, but socialised with another group when the girls joined them.

'Not really.' Anthony repeated. 'I've tried to fly before at Liram's house, but it didn't go well.'

Liram didn't look like he was about to disagree with that assessment, although he was eyeing the other boy sympathetically.

'Have you all flown before?' Harry asked, draining his goblet of orange juice. The others were drinking pumpkin juice, but Harry found the taste slightly odd.

They nodded. Blaise muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Of course.'

'Do you think we'll be playing Quidditch?' Tracey asked, looking hopeful.

Liram shook his head.

'I doubt it. There are at least a dozen muggleborns in our year, so some of the people in our class have almost certainly never flown. I expect that Madame Hooch will just be teaching us all basic broom safety and control.'

Harry grinned internally at the boy's attempt to soothe his friend, though he couldn't help but feel disappointed that the lesson was likely to be dominated by things he'd learned when he'd first been allowed to mount a broom at the age of six.

Madame Hooch was a fit, spare looking middle-aged woman with bristly grey hair and a hawklike face. She strode across the grassed courtyard towards them, flying robes fluttering around her.

'Good morning students.' She began in a hard voice. 'Welcome to your first flying lesson. Today you will all be learning how to mount a broom properly, how to lift off, touch down, and land safely.'

Harry saw Anthony's look of relief as the teacher summarised the program of events.

'Miss,' the blond-haired head of Draco Malfoy spoke up with a note of condescension, 'what if we can already do all of those things?'

Harry was curious as well, but knew better than to ask the question, and so watched with amusement as the teacher narrowed her eyes at the boy.

'Mr Malfoy, yes?' She asked, and the boy nodded. 'You will be learning precisely the skills I have just listed, and if I deem you to have mastered them then you will be helping your less experienced fellows.'

His pale cheeks flushed slightly, but he nodded again, apparently quelled for the moment.

'Now.' Madame Hooch continued. 'I want each of you to step up beside a broom.' She said, indicating the two rows of ten broomsticks lined up neatly on the grass. Harry moved over to one, flanked by Liram on one side and Blaise on the other. The school brooms were no match for his Nimbus, of course, but they were well kept and, from what he could tell, relatively new.

'Extend your hand over your broom, and in a firm voice say "Up!"' Madame Hooch instructed.

Harry held out his hand and willed the broom into his grasp. He saw Liram and a few others had done the same. Most of the class had managed to get their brooms to slap into their grips with Madame Hooch's instruction. Anthony's broom was rolling about on the ground. The round faced boy he'd discovered was called Neville Longbottom didn't even seem to be trying to command his broom, merely holding a slightly trembling hand gingerly above it and muttering under his breath.

Most of the class was forced to wait whilst Madame Hooch went round the less confident members of the class. Eventually, though, and with a little encouragement from their housemates, they all had a broom in hand.

'Now, mount your brooms by swinging one leg over and locating the cushioning charm with your buttocks.' The teacher instructed crisply.

They all did as instructed, though Anthony looked pale and the Longbottom boy was clutching his broom so tightly Harry was wondering whether his fingers or the handle would snap first.

'Now, when I blow my whistle, and not a moment before, you will all kick off firmly, rise no higher than I am tall into the air, and then lean forwards to return to the ground.'

She blew the whistle, and twenty brooms followed her instructions. Or, at least, twenty brooms followed her instructions for the span of three or four seconds before Neville Longbottom rose above the throng, whimpering audibly.

'Mr Longbottom!' Madame Hooch shouted, 'Lean forwards and return to the ground immediately!'

Harry couldn't be sure whether it was the sky or his own terror Neville was too far into to hear her, but the boy continued to lean backwards, clinging on desperately as his broom bucked in his grip, rising in fits and starts above the neatly mown lawn.

Madame Hooch had her wand out and was waving it frantically at him. The rest of the class had all returned to the ground and were muttering to one another as they stared up at the terrified Gryffindor.

It was curious, Harry thought, as Neville Longbottom suddenly rolled in midair and tumbled off his broom, that he felt no need to attempt to intercede. He registered, in the split second after the boy fell into empty air and the screams of his classmates rose around him, that he was supposed to want to help. And yet, he didn't. He cared nothing for Neville Longbottom, had never actually spoken to the boy, and so his hand dangled loosely at his side and his wand remained in its holster.

Luckily for the boy, one of Madame Hooch's charms found him before he hit the ground. His descent slowed abruptly and he landed on the grass with a soft thump. The class watched in relieved silence as Madame Hooch hurried over to the clearly alive boy.

'Now!' She called as she slung one of Longbottom's arms around her shoulder and supported the hobbling boy. 'You are all dismissed back to your common rooms, the lesson will resume next week.'

Harry frowned. Neville's injuries were clearly relatively significant if he required a teacher to cancel a lesson in order to escort him to the Hospital Wing. He couldn't help but feel more disappointment that he wouldn't get to do any more flying, however rudimentary. His Nimbus sat locked in a case at the foot of his bed in Ravenclaw Tower; first years were not permitted to fly independently on school grounds until Madame Hooch had deemed them competent.

'You know what?'

Harry was pulled from his thoughts by Zacharias Smith's loud drawl. Harry knew he was in Hufflepuff, and had to acknowledge the boy's height, mess of dirty blond hair and regular features made him handsome, but even two days into term he'd come to the conclusion that he didn't like him very much. Arrogance was fine… but only if you could back it up.

'I think the fat fuck should just have stayed indoors.' The boy continued, having drawn the attention he wanted. A chorus of giggles greeted his words. 'Really, I think without him, this lesson just became a lot safer.'

Harry couldn't disagree with the assessment.

'So, anyone fancy a game of catch?' Zacharias asked, pulling a miniature Quaffle from inside his robes. Tracey stepped forwards eagerly, as did a couple of boys from Gryffindor, but the Hufflepuff's eyes were elsewhere.

'Flamel.' He said, gaze zeroed on Harry. 'Someone told me you're planning to try out for your house Quidditch team.' He snorted. 'As a first year. Ravenclaw must be bad if you think you stand a chance, but why don't you show us?'

Harry knew a pissing contest when he saw one, and that the only way to stay dry himself was to drench Zacharias.

'I take it you're not daring to go for a spot on the Hufflepuff team then, Smith?' He replied curiously, injecting as much disdain as he could into the boy's name. He didn't know anything of the Smith family, and if he didn't then the chances were good that they weren't particularly significant. It was irritating, however, that his intentions had got out. Now he would have to get a spot on the team, or at the very least the reserve squad, to avoid losing face.

The boy flushed slightly, but his smirk remained in place.

'Well,' he continued suggestively, 'if I beat you then I might just give it a shot.'

'Zacharias, I can call you that? If you beat me then you might as well just skip to the professional leagues.'

The boy's eyebrows rose.

'Really, that good, huh?'

Harry took to his broom and floated a few feet into the air.

'Coming?'

The other boy grinned and kicked off hard. Harry eyed his form intently as he drifted after him. Smith knew what he was doing, no doubt about it. His form was slightly loose, but he looked easy in the saddle, and the turn he managed as he span to face Harry was probably about as tight as the school brooms could handle.

'First one to miss loses!' He shouted, holding his broom steady with one hand and tossing the small Quaffle in the other. Harry nodded. If he tried to add any rules, however sensible, then Zacharias would bait him. Besides, it wasn't as if he needed them. Zacharias' first throw was fast and hard, leaving his grip at an almost flat trajectory and flying straight towards Harry's head.

Harry didn't bother to move his broom, instead snapping up his right hand and catching the ball in a firm grip perhaps six inches from his face.

'Ready, Zacharias?' He called back to a boy who looked suddenly slightly less confident. He had the grace to wait for the nod before mirroring the shot he'd received. And the Hufflepuff caught it, but had jerked his whole body to one side instinctively before raising his arm.

'So little faith in your abilities?'

The Hufflepuff ignored him and flung the ball viciously to one side, Harry's left, and slightly downwards. Harry approved the choice. The boy had clearly registered he was right-handed, and so aimed for his weaker side. By throwing downwards he would reduce the time Harry had to reach his target before it hit the ground. It was a shame, then, that the direction had been predictable, and that halfway through the boy's swing Harry had begun moving.

'Not bad.' Harry called, tossing the ball in his left hand as he eyed his opponent. 'Can you catch with both hands, too?' He wondered aloud, before flicking the ball towards the air immediately beneath Smith.

The boy was easily bluffed, but handy enough in the air that he recovered just in time, snatching the ball out of the air by the tips of his fingers. Harry grinned as he saw the other boy wince and try not to cradle his strained hand.

'You can forfeit.'

The Hufflepuff grimaced and moved the Quaffle to his uninjured hand before throwing it wildly towards a spot just over Harry's left shoulder. Too easy. Harry thought as it slapped against his palm, before throwing it as hard as he could in the direction of the other boy's injured side. He felt slightly guilty as Smith reached for it instinctively with his damaged fingers, before flailing them back and grasping with his left hand. He missed, and the two of them watched in silence as the ball fell to the grass, just beyond the mass of watching students.

Harry flew over to the Hufflepuff and nodded, deciding a handshake would probably be undiplomatic.

'Well played.'

'You too.' The other boy said, though Harry couldn't tell whether his teeth were gritted by the pain or the words.

They returned to the ground, and Harry was quickly surrounded by the Ravenclaws in the class as well as Daphne, Tracey and Blaise.

'You were brilliant!' Tracey squealed, embracing him tightly, before pulling back with a slight blush.

'You know,' Liram said, looking at him, 'you might just have a chance on the house team after all.'

'Mr Flamel! Mr Smith!'

Harry looked up to see the tall figure of Professor McGonagall striding across the court in their direction.

'Come with me.' She instructed as soon as she'd reached the clustered students, and watched imperiously as the admirers grouped around the two boys reluctantly released them to her wrath.

Author's note: Well, hope I did Cedric justice in terms of first impressions. Re the flying lesson, if I'm taking inspiration from scenes in canon, I really hope I'm switching them up enough to keep them interesting. Let me know (whatever your opinion) =)