I successfully survived my first week here at Hogwarts University.

Outside of class I spent most of my time building a quality inner circle of friends. Hermione, Ron and I kept a tight bond as expected.

We balance each other out rather perfectly; Hermione is the brains of the operation, Ron's the social advocate, and I..

Well I was still figuring that part out.

Most of my discriminatory and prideful housemates were finally warming up to the idea of myself being in Slytherin.

As if they had the choice.

And then there was Malfoy.

My roommate got under my skin more times than I wished to admit. And, I'll give it to him, he did his bloody best at upholding a callous image.

But I saw right through it.

Deep down Malfoy was a scared, misunderstood little bloke whose bark was bigger than his bite. There was an inner vulnerability behind closed doors that no one else saw, even including himself at times.

We make our way to the Main Hall for breakfast. We're both half asleep from the amount of studying we'd accomplished over the last few nights.

Today marked the first day of quidditch tryouts. It consisted of three tasks; a written exam, an analysis on taking proper flight, and a one versus one against an existing team member. The tryouts would measure our agility, athleticism, stamina, mental strength, and overall skill.

I would be trying out for the position that was similar enough to my role in lacrosse; the chaser. It was heavy on offensive plays along with the necessity to be speedy.

The written exam consisted of 50 multiple choice questions based off technicalities and the general history of the sport. Aside from studying with Malfoy, I'd endured multiple endless lectures from Fred and George; both beaters on the Gryffindor quidditch team.

So, I was pretty up to speed on the basis of the sport.

But that didn't mean that I was feeling confident in any sense of the term.

Malfoy and I were competing for the same position with the underlying desire to be the Slytherin seeker. But the seeker position, as advised by Hermione, hadn't been given to a first-year in over a century.

My biological father, also advised by Hermione as she bloody knows everything, was a chaser on the Gryffindor team during his time at Hogwarts.

Even though I never met my father, or knew he existed until a week ago, I wanted to prove him proud.

But it would take a profound leap of faith to believe that I inherited most.. if not any of my father's traits.

I was admittedly working against the odds already. After all, I was placed in Slytherin; the paradoxical house to Gryffindor. Simply possessing the Potter name did not signify that I resembled anything close to the man who gave me his famous last name.

Aside from being a master at pissing off my Potions professor, I exhibited minimal enchanting properties. The only predisposed quality that set me apart from the rest wasn't even known by most; ultraviolet vision from my snakelike left eye that was triggered when I was upset.

So what?

In the wizarding world, that was hardly impressive.

The overall general lack of confidence in myself and the image I was expected to uphold was heavily working against me.

I'm irritable, sleep deprived, and anxious for this bloody written test. Hopefully a hearty breakfast will fuel my motivation for the rest of the day.

I repetitively blink against the invasive sunlight as we pace across the courtyard. I rub my eyes and let out a yawn, mirroring Malfoy's strides beside me to ensure that I'm walking a straight line.

Upon our arrival we're greeted by each table decked out in various baked goods and savory dishes. If there was one thing I knew I'd never get sick of at Hogwarts, it was the endless feasts.

We sit across from Crabbe and Goyle who had just finished fetching each of us a fresh cup of coffee. The pair was starting to grow on me. I didn't mind having two twits to do whatever I pleased at the snap of a finger.

Even though I had the selection of nearly every breakfast food you could imagine, I settle for a sole pile of bacon that I intricately stack on my plate.

I ritualistically peer across the room to seek out my friends at the Gryffindor table. My heart palpitates as my eyes fall upon the sexy mystery girl with auburn hair from the first-year initiation celebration. I hadn't seen her since that evening.

She coyly smiles at me making my cheeks burn. I'm pretty sure she started to wave at me, but I'm too busy giving myself whiplash while redirecting my line of vision elsewhere.

With my neck safely snapped in the other direction, I notice Ron and Hermione approaching the Slytherin table with two full trays of food.

I lean both elbows against the table and interlace my fingers. I rest my chin upon my hands as I watch my friends' nonchalant entry to the doom and gloom Slytherin zone.

I was welcome at the Gryffindor table, well, mainly by force.. but it was a rather prideful moment watching my friends shamelessly visit my segregationally charged table.

Crabbe and Goyle turn and glance at them while silently refusing to make room on the bench.

Malfoy narrows his eyes at the Gryffindors. I side eye him waiting for his next move.

"Crabbe. Goyle." He sways one hand between them before flicking his wrist in the other direction. "Move, you fat lubs."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise as they obediently scoot to their right making room for Ron and Hermione.

My housemates whisper among one another as predicted. As previously noted quite a few times, it wasn't common for the rival houses to befriend one another.

But I was putting an end to that stigma.

"Oi, Granger!" our housemate hollers from a few seats down. "I think you're lost. Shouldn't you be up front being an insufferable teacher's pet, sucking up to McGonagall?"

Malfoy and I simultaneously grip the table, leaning forward and peering down the row. "Shut up Parkinson," he snaps quicker than I can.

I lightly wince, waiting for a stereotypical condescending remark to follow up the blatant defense of my mate.. who he had just maliciously insulted last week?

Surprisingly, a snarky comment doesn't make an appearance.

I contently clear my throat while looking back to Ron and Hermione. I gesture for them to have a seat, but they're too distracting gaping at Malfoy as though a third eye had grown from his forehead. He lazily glances at me before nonchalantly taking a stab at a piece of pineapple.

Ron skeptically observes my roommate while throwing a leg over the bench. "And I thought Malfoy was the biggest tosser in Slytherin."

Malfoy uncharacteristically chooses to forego the instigating comment.

Perhaps the bloke regretted the savage remark he had made to Hermione the week prior. I fancied the idea that I held a positive influence over my bigoted roommate.

But I wasn't going to hold my breath waiting on a full apology any time soon.

Hermione arches a brow at Malfoy before turning back to me. "Ron received the Daily Prophet in the mail today." The perplexed expression on my face causes her to add, "It's the newspaper."

I wrinkle my chin as I peek over at the front page. Just like the portraits in the castle, the paper is riddled with life-like pictures that move and repeat in a boomerang effect.

"Someone broke into Gringott's," Ron informs. He fans the newspaper in his hand toward me while adding, "It's never been ransacked. If anyone other than a Gringott's goblin tried to open this specific vault, they would be trapped inside."

"For at least 10 years," Hermione adds. "Harry, Gringott's Bank is-"

"I know what it is." I lightly stroke my chin as I add, "Hagrid made a stop for Dumbledore when we were in Diagon Alley."

"Hagrid?" the Gryffindors say in unison.

"Wha? Yeh called me?" I nearly jump out of my skin as Hagrid's deep voice suddenly bellows from behind me.

Ron gingerly shakes his head folding the newspaper and hiding it beneath his armpit. "Nope. Good morning, Hagrid!" he greets with a phony smile.

I bend over the table and yank the paper from Ron's clutch who furrows his eyebrows at me. "Hagrid, did you hear about this?" I coolly direct the paper from over my shoulder feeling the behemoth grasp it from behind.

"Err.." After 30 seconds of silence I turn to find that he was holding the Daily Prophet upside down. "I know some of these words, I do," he announces thoughtfully.

Malfoy chuckles to himself as I jab an elbow into the side of his ribs.

"No, Hagrid." I rub both hands over my face before fully turning my body toward him.

I find him unscrewing his flask while hesitantly looking to the row of professors who, luckily for him, weren't looking our direction. He hastily takes a pull from his flask before re-opening the newspaper.

I save my large, uneducated friend from further embarrassment and yank the Daily Prophet back into my possession.

I near it to my nose reading aloud:

Gringott's Break In:

The intrusion is believed to be the work of dark witches or wizards. The Gringott's goblins insist nothing was taken. The vault in question is number 713 which had in fact been emptied earlier that very same day.

"Ha!" Hagrid bellows. "Doesn' really matter, now do it? 'Cuz what they was tryin' teh swoop was already removed by yours truly!"

I look back to Hermione who impatiently motions her hand encouraging me to ask further.

"What exactly was inside that vault, Hagrid?"

His rosy cheeks deepen an extra shade of pink as his beady eyes ricochet back and forth. "How should I know?" he replies rather defensively.

"Because you said-"

"Don' know what yeh think yeh heard, Harry." Hagrid chuckles shaking his head. "Now, I'm off teh go get me some breakfast."

The wooden flooring vibrates as he wanders toward the front of the room. I shrug my shoulders at Ron and Hermione who peer back at me in universal intrigue.

"Bumbling oaf," Malfoy reiterates. I jab my elbow once more causing him to aggressively shove me to the side. "Keep your grubby paws off me, Potter."

"Then stop being such a fucking dick," I shoot back.

"Oh, stop it you two." Hermione readjusts in her seat while intertwining her fingers against the table. "Besides. You'll need your focus today, Harry."

"Phase one of the quidditch tryouts starts in one hour," Ron adds. He excitedly nods his head as he leans forward in his seat. "Think you're ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Even though I'd been on the brink of a panic attack all morning, I had also been itching to prove myself here at Hogwarts University.

And I'd be lying if the attention that I received at the party last week was unwelcome.

Catching the Spiffle ball with such ease felt bloody brilliant. But the recognition that came with it was equally exhilarating.

Harry Potter, the 'Boy Who Lived': The star player of the Slytherin quidditch team.

That had a nice ring to it.

If there was one thing I knew I'd be good at in following up my defaulted reputation, it was sports.

Plus, the girls tended to fancy athletes.

Hopefully the mystery red head had a liking herself.