-Hogwarts Castle: Entrance Hall-

Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost three points for Slytherin in his very first week, and technically eight in total without Malfoy's contribution. Why did Snape hate him so much? Matthew, Anthony, and Ron were awaiting him at the bottom of the main stairs. Harry relayed everything to Ron and also caught the three of them up with what Snape had told Harry.

"Why does he hate you so much?" Anthony asked incredulously. "It's only the end of the first week, and it was our first ever meeting with Snape. You haven't done anything."

"I've also never known for Snape to just punish his own students with no cause unless it was for something very atrocious," Matthew pondered, "This is, strangely enough, out of character for him."

"I hope Snape gets a box of Bertie Bott's and all the beans are earwax and bogey flavored," Ron fumed, "As for the points, I wouldn't worry too much. Fred and George are always telling me how Snape keeps nicking points off of them. Ready to go down and see Hagrid?"

Harry nodded, although he didn't feel any better. He gave the stairway down to the dungeons a last glare before leading the other boys out of the front doors.

-Hogwarts Grounds: Hagrid's Hut-

Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang—back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron, Anthony, and Matthew," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

He then turned to the Moorish brothers to give them a proper look. "You two don' look like yer typical Slytherins." He narrowed his eyes at them. "Are yer treatin' Harry alright?"

The brothers both looked at Harry before nodding fervently with smiles. Hagrid nodded and it seemed to be enough of an answer for him.

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but the boys pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes. They were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git''.

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her—Filch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid told Harry not to worry about it, and that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"I have to agree with Harry, I was there with him," said Anthony, "Snape isn't pleasant we know that, but his remarks were very targeted."

"I'm tellin yer, It's all rubbish." Hagrid said, waving him off. "How's yer brother Charlie?" He asked Ron. "I liked him a lot—great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.
Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.
"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good
for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "That Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As the boys walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

-Slytherin Common Room-

Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. He found him insufferable. Malfoy was the first person to point out all of his flaws and mistakes, stating that Harry was no more extraordinary than everyone had first perceived him to be. He would manage to get most of the Slytherins to openly mock him. Anthony would often defend Harry, and has even scrapped with Malfoy a few times only in the common room where they wouldn't be seen by teachers.

"You're nothing more than Potter's personal guard dog," Malfoy would snarl after each fight, which he would lose every time.

"You're right," Anthony would taunt back, "And I'm damn good at it too."

Malfoy had to be the most insufferable person in the whole school, and it didn't help that they had every single class together and shared a dorm. Harry thought things couldn't possibly get any worse until a notice was pinned up in the Slytherin common room that made them all of the first years excited but Harry groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday, and all the first years from every house would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Anthony reasonably. "Besides, I think Malfoy's all talk and doesn't actually know how to fly a broom himself."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first-years never getting on the House Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though; Seamus Finnigan made it seem like he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. He would make sure to catch Harry's eye to let out the most insufferable of gloating, and Harry would roll his eyes and pout. Anthony would shoot daggers at Malfoy, and Malfoy would tone it down before eventually changing the subject.

-Hogwarts Grounds-

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Anthony, and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. All of the first years from the other houses were already there. Harry and Ron caught each others eyes and Ron grinned as Harry made his way to stand by him. There were roughly about eighty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry remembered Ron had mentioned that Fred and George Weasley would complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

There was a mixture of both excitement and fear amongst the students. Across from Harry was Neville Longbottom, who was visibly shaking. The Slytherins have had a few classes with the Hufflepuffs, and the best way that Harry could describe Neville was, to put it lightly, hopeless. Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. On Ron's other side stood Hermione Granger from Ravenclaw, the annoying girl they had met on the train. Slytherins had some classes with the Ravenclaws as well, and Harry thought her insufferable in the know-it-all way. She was the first to raise her hand and answer all questions, and would even correct professors if they said the wrong information or omitted anything. In terms of being insufferable, Harry thought she was almost on par with with Malfoy.

She was just as nervous as Neville was about flying, although she didn't show it as much. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book—not that she hadn't tried. Before the Slytherins arrived, and even after, she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of their teacher, Madam Hooch. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!' "

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, and so did Anthony's who was beside him, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry, Ron, and Anthony were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"I knew he was all talk," Anthony muttered under his breath so that only Harry and Ron could hear. The three of them snickered.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle—twelve feet—twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and—

WHAM—a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight. Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins, save for Harry and Anthony, began chiming in.

"His face was so white!" Theodore Nott exclaimed with malice.

"He's hopeless, that one," Crabbe stated while Goyle chortled in agreement.

"aaaAHHHaaahhhhAHHHHHH!" Malfoy shrieked, flailing his arms all around in a poor imitation of Neville, and fell dramatically to the ground, earning him screeches and howls from the Slytherins.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil from Gryffindor,

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass.

"I think that's a Remembrall," Theodore mused. The Remembrall glittered in the sun as Malfoy held it up and spun it around.

"Well maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he'd have remembered to fall on his fat arse!" Malfoy smirked as more laughter came from the Slytherins.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree Or even better—the roof?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move—you'll get us all into trouble."

"She's right, Harry," Anthony said as he clasped Harry's shoulder, "Don't do it, you'd be stupid to do so."

Harry ignored them. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him—and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught—this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried. Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping. He gave chase, circling the air and keeping dangerously close to Malfoy.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called. The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down—next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball—wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching—he stretched out his hand—a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist. The non-Slytherin first years cheered and ran towards him, exclaiming with glee. Harry's heart was still pumping fast; he felt so alive.

"HARRY POTTER! DRACO MALFOY!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.

"Never—in all my time at Hogwarts —"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "—how dare you— the two of you could have broken your neck—"

"It wasn't Harry's fault, Professor—"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil—"

"But Malfoy—"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley."

"Potter was the aggressor—"

"Yeah, he was chasing Draco—"

"THAT IS ENOUGH FROM ALL OF YOU!" The first years became silent. Potter, Malfoy, follow me, now."

Harry and Malfoy followed, both walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. Harry was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at them; they practically had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep? Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to them. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry and Malfoy trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking them to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid's assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.

They reached the door to her classroom, and upon the door opening, Harry and Malfoy's faces dropped and Harry felt his stomach twist in knots. Professor Snape was standing at the front, his face turning into a glower at the sight of them.

"Potter," he sneered, "Up to no good, are we? Honestly, I'm not surprised. And Malfoy, getting entangled with this riffraff? Tsk tsk. Pity."

"Sit," Professor McGonagall said sharply. Harry and Malfoy wasted no time in obeying orders.

"Professor Snape and I were having a nice little chat, when low and behold, we see two first years flying around nonchalantly. We also ran into Madam Hooch as she was escorting Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. She happened to tell us that none of you were supposed to be in the air at all until she returned. Is that correct?"

Harry and Malfoy both nodded solemnly.

"Then why, might I ask, did you both disobey those orders?"

They both froze. How would they explain why they were fighting?

"Well?" she asked sternly.

About ten seconds of silence passed before Harry finally opened his mouth.

"Malfoy stole something from Neville that fell on the ground, and I had to get it back from him."

Malfoy remained silent, head facing the ground.

"Is that true, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy nodded fervently and finally got the courage to peek up at them.

"So then," Snape began with a drawl, "You both took it upon yourselves to settle matters into the sky, the exact place where you were explicitly ordered not to be in?"

They both froze again and looked down at the ground. Now that it was being said out loud, it was a pretty stupid thing.

"What do you think is the appropriate punishment, Professor Snape?"

"I think a Saturday detention with you shall suffice, Professor McGonagall. I also think giving them an extra required assignment for my class will also stand fit."

"Then it's settled then. Saturday evening detention, here in this room, at seven o'clock sharp. Do I make myself clear?"

The boys nodded one last time. Professor McGonagall scribbled detention slips and handed it to them.

"Now, off you go, and I want no more funny business for the rest of the day!"

"Yes, Professor," they mumbled in harmony as they both left the classroom and made their way back to the dungeons.

Harry's heart was beneath his stomach. Sure, it wasn't an expulsion, but a detention within two weeks of being there? It had to have been a new record for any first year.

"Well, was it worth it then?" Malfoy said in a drawl with a slight quiver to his voice.

"Was what worth it?"

"The fat lump's Remembrall. Was it worth getting us a detention?"

Harry pondered the question. "You know what? It actually was."

"Tch, and why do you say that?"

"Because," Harry said cooly as he looked Malfoy straight in his eyes, "I got to see what Draco Malfoy looks like when he's scared."

Draco's mouth dropped as he stopped and looked at Harry in a mixture of shock. Harry cackled and kept on walking. The priceless look on Draco's face was truly worth all the trouble.