A/N:I've been having a bit of difficulty writing my other stories for the past week or two, but somehow I don't seem to have any problem writing more for this one 😂 That probably shows just how much I love this idea. There are so many scenes and bits that I just can't wait to write 😆

I'll be finishing up some chapters for my other stories soon as well, so if any of you are waiting for one of them, I assure you that the next chapters will be up on scheduled days next week.

WIth that said, here's the next chapter for this story. I hope you all enjoy it! :)

Chapter 04

The First Week

From the very first day of classes, people began talking. The most popular topic was that the famous Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived himself, had come to Hogwarts. Then there was another popular gossip ― that a certain young heir of the proud family of Malfoys had become a Gryffindor.

Put together, they were guaranteed to attract people's attention anywhere they went.

And apparently, the students were not the only ones that were getting the news. On the third day of the term, an owl arrived at breakfast and landed before Draco.

"Well, finally," he mumbled with a resigned smirk.

Weasley looked up from his breakfast with curious eyes.

"I think my parents found out," Draco said. "About time, too. I bet Professor Snape wrote my father."

Weasley gave him an understanding and sympathetic look.

"Well, at least it's not a Howler," he said.

Draco laughed. He stroke the owl a few times as he took the letter it had brought him. The owl ruffled its feathers lightly before it soared majestically and flew out of the Great Hall again.

"My parents are too dignified to send something like a Howler."

"What's a Howler?" Potter asked.

"A nightmare," Weasley said, shaking his head. "I bet if I were put in Slytherin, my mum would have sent me one."

Draco looked down at his name written on the envelope. His mother's neat and calm handwriting never looked so sharp. He put it down next to him and continued eating his eggs.

"You're not going to open it?" Weasley asked.

"Maybe later," Draco answered. "I can already guess what she wants to say."

He tried to finish his breakfast, but even he had to admit that he couldn't really forget about the letter. Thus, he ended up picking it up again soon and opening it.

Draco

I must inform you that your father is infuriated. And I am also very disappointed. Yet, it is most likely impossible to change the results now.

I just want to tell you once again what your father has already told you. Do not forget who you are. Do remember that you are a Malfoy. Do not disgrace the name you have been gifted with by becoming a traitor.

I expect you to come home during the Christmas holidays. Do write often as well.

With love,

Mother

Draco huffed as he folded the letter again. He threw it lightly on the spot next to his plate and resumed eating.

"They keep telling me to 'remember who I am'," he said. "But they keep refusing to see that this is who I am."

"Reminds me of my aunt and uncle," said Potter. "They kept trying to ignore the fact that I'm a wizard. But even they had to admit it at some point. Maybe your parents will, too."

Draco just tittered. He didn't bother to say that he highly doubted that it would ever happen.

He soon forgot about the letter, however, as he busied himself with the new classes. They had Astronomy every Wednesday at midnight, where they learned about different stars and the planets. Three times a week, they had to head down to the greenhouses where they had their classes for Herbology. Then there was History of Magic, which was one of the most boring classes that Draco could ever imagine. There were also Charms and Transfiguration, which seemed to be a bit more interesting than others, for they involved a bit more of wand-works. Homeworks started to pile up even from the very first week, adding up to the list of things that Draco needed to struggle with.

Yet, the worst one ― or the one that Draco worried about the most ― was Potions, and it didn't come until the fifth day. On the morning of the first Friday of the term, Draco headed down to the Great Hall along with Potter and Weasley for breakfast.

"What have we got today?" Potter asked as he put sugar in his bowl of porridge.

"Potions," answered Draco. He got himself a piece of toast.

"With the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's the head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them. We'll see if that's true."

"You don't need to see it," Draco said. "I can tell you ― he indeed favors them. And you know what? Among the Slytherins, he was going to favor me. Or should I say, he was supposed to. Father's an old friend with Snape. I think they had some talk before I came here."

"I have a strong feeling that he does not like me," said Potter.

"From what I've heard, he just doesn't like other people that much," Draco replied, shrugging. "If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure that he'll despise me now."

"I wish McGonagall favored us," said Ron as he scooped eggs into his mouth. "First week of the term, and we're already drowning in her homework."

Just then, owls began to flood into the Great Hall. From among them emerged Potter's snowy white owl. It usually didn't have anything to deliver, but it dropped a small note on Potter's plate this time.

"It's from Hagrid!" Potter sounded excited. He quickly read the note. Then he turned toward Draco and Weasley. "Do you have a quill?"

He borrowed Weasley's quill to scribble down a short reply and gave it to his owl again.

They finished eating breakfast soon and returned to the Gryffindor tower to get ready for their class. With all the necessary equipment and textbook, the three of them headed down to the dungeons. Once inside the dim and smoky classroom that reminded Draco so much of the Potions teacher himself, they settled down in one of the tables in the middle. They were just sitting down in their seats when a loud group of students entered the room. One of them called out to Draco.

"Malfoy! Has your father disowned you yet?"

It was Goyle. Crabbe and some other Slytherins jeered at him. Draco turned around and looked at them.

"Why don't you worry about yourself, Goyle?"

Goyle frowned. "What are you talking about? I'm a Slytherin."

"Which does not help prove that you have more brains than a flobberworm. I wouldn't be surprised if your father wanted to disown you for such a low intellect." Draco said flatly.

Weasley snorted out loud. It must have infuriated Goyle even more.

"I wouldn't be so smug if I were you," he said. "You know my parents are close to yours. I already wrote my father about you―"

"Oh, really? I didn't know you could write. That's a nice improvement," Draco said coolly.

Weasley was on the verge of cackling. Goyle put his hand inside his robe, suspiciously resembling a movement to pull out his wand. But Draco was quicker in aiming his toward Goyle.

"Stop!"

Draco turned around. Hermione Granger was sitting at the nearby table, scowling at him.

"No magic is allowed between classes, don't you remember?" She said. "You're going to get us in trouble!"

"It's not going to be a problem unless the teacher finds out," Draco answered, glaring at Crabbe and Goyle, who had their wands ready before them.

"That does not mean you can break the rules!" said Granger.

"Mind your own business," Weasley complained at her.

"This is my business!" Granger hissed. "You might have points taken from Gryffindor. Don't you see?"

Just then, the door of the classroom burst open. Professor Snape marched in, his eyes straight forward toward the front of the classroom. Draco quickly put his wand away. Crabbe and Goyle also put down their wands on the desk.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," said Professor Snape. He only turned toward the students after he had reached his own desk in the deepest part of the classroom. "As such, I don't expect many of you to truly appreciate the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. The soft simmering cauldron and its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins to bewitch the mind, ensnare the senses…."

His eyes gleamed rather dangerously as they scanned the intimidated students in the room.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper to death ― if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads."

He walked over to behind his desk and looked down. Then he began to read the names of the students. Once he was done with the Slytherins, he moved onto Gryffindor and―

"Draco Malfoy."

Draco looked up and Professor Snape, who only raised his eyes slowly to look back after he was done reading the name. Draco maintained his calm demeanor as Professor Snape's eyes twitched a little as he gazed at him for quite a long time. Everyone turned around to look at Draco with either jeering or scared eyes.

"How disappointing," Professor Snape said eventually. "I had hoped you weren't foolish enough to enjoy yourself amidst the likes of―"

His eyes moved onto the next name on his list before they drifted over to Potter, who was just sitting in the seat next to Draco's around their table.

"Harry Potter," Professor Snape said. "Our new― celebrity."

Potter tensed visibly while Crabbe, Goyle, and some other Slytherins sniggered.

"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood. Draco's mind raced through his memory of books he had read before school started. If he remembered correctly, asphodel was the flower of death and deceased spirits. And wormwood was one of the ingredients for a sleeping potion. Death and sleeping potion ― probably the Draught of Living Death?

Granger's hand shot up into the air. Potter, on the other hand, shook his head.

"I don't know, sir," he said.

Professor Snape sneered.

"Clearly, fame isn't everything," he said. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

That was an easy one. Bezoar was one of the most basic antidotes taken from the stomach of a goat. Once again, Granger's hand shot up straight above her head. Yet, Potter did not seem to be able to answer.

"You don't know?" Professor Snape said. "What about this? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

It was a trick, but an easy one as well. Those two were the same plants, just with two different names. Draco thought as he quietly laughed to himself. His father had made him study Potions and Herbs especially more, for Draco had to be Snape's favored student ― although it was most likely very far from happening now.

Granger's hand was nearly poking through the ceiling as she was on the edge of her seat.

"I don't know, sir," Potter answered quietly. "But I think Hermione does, why don't you try her?"

Draco's eyes widened. Even he couldn't think of talking back to Professor Snape. A few students laughed quietly while many of the Slytherins looked surprised. Weasley seemed torn between stifling his laugh and looking scared.

Professor Snape's lips twitched uncomfortably.

"Five points from Gryffindor, for that cheek of yours. Thought you wouldn't open your book before coming, didn't you Potter?" He turned toward the rest of the class. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful that it is called the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all writing it down?"

Nobody dared to talk as they pulled out their quills and ink to make notes. The rest of the class afterward was spent as they all mixed up a simple potion to cure boils. It was one of the easy ones, and Draco didn't have much problem with it. Even Professor Snape, who went around the room scolding the students for their mistakes, didn't seem to criticize Draco, although he was clearly not pleased with him. The same couldn't be said for other Gryffindors, however, as Neville Longbottom somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron and burn holes in people's shoes. People around him had to stand over their stools to avoid, while Longbottom himself was drenched in the failed formula and got boils popping up all over his arms and legs.

"Fool!" Professor Snape said as he whipped his wand and made the spilled potion disappear at once. "Take him to the hospital wing!" He snarled at Seamus. Then he turned toward Potter. "Why didn't you tell him not to add the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Thought it would come to your advantage if he failed? Five points from Gryffindor."

Potter was about to argue, but Draco quickly grabbed his arm. Weasley also shook his head.

They were all let out about an hour later when the class was over. Potter seemed quite dreadful.

"Cheer up," Weasley said as the three of them climbed up the stairs out of the Dungeon. "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. He just hates everyone that's not Slytherin, and he especially hates Gryffindors."

Potter didn't seem to feel better.

"Hey, you said you're going to go see Hagrid? Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

That seemed to get Potter's mind off Potions and Snape.

"Sure," he said. He sounded much more cheerful at the thought. "I don't think he'll mind. Would you like to come too, Draco?"

"I'd like to, if I may," said Draco. He had been intrigued by the giant man ever since he first saw him in Diagon Alley.

Thus, the three of them left the castle building at around five to three, which was the appointed time of the meeting.

"My father talked about him sometimes," Draco said as they walked through the grounds. "Said that he was some kind of a savage servant living on the grounds after he got expelled. He didn't tell me what he was expelled for, though. I used to believe his words for it when I was still little. But then I saw him in Diagon Alley when I met Potter for the first time, but he didn't look that bad."

"By the way," Weasley said. "Are you going to keep calling us like that?"

Draco looked at him. "Like what?"

"You keep calling us by our family names," said Weasley.

"Oh," Draco said. "It's a habit, I suppose. That's how I used to call everyone."

"It just feels a little weird," said Weasley. "I mean, we're calling you 'Darco'. Why don't you call us by our names?"

"I suppose there's no reason not to," Draco said, shrugging his shoulders. "All right."

They reached Hagrid's small hut on the grounds, just by the edges of the Forbidden Forest. Potter ― or rather, Harry ― knocked on the wooden door. A series of booming barks exploded from within, making Draco jump.

"Back, Fang. Back!" Hagrid's gruff voice came from inside.

Draco, Harry, and Ron were finally let in when Hagrid managed to open the door without his large hound jumping over them. The house was small, with only one room that had a small kitchen area, a set of a wooden table and a few chairs, a couple of armchairs, and a large bed in the corner. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling, and a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire in the hearth. It was nothing like what he was used to ― all the fancy, neat, and luxurious furniture. Draco could easily picture the disgust on his parents' faces once they saw the house. He himself had to get used to how messy the interior seemed as he rather cautiously sat in one of the armchairs offered to him.

"Make yourselves at home," said Hagrid as he prepared four teacups and some rock cakes on the table.

"This is Ron, and this is Draco," Harry said as he pointed to the two boys sitting in each of the armchairs. Ron, to his discomfort, was being licked by the giant hound.

Hagrid poured four cups of tea from the large kettle he had retrieved from the fire.

"Another Weasley, eh?" he said, glimpsing at Ron. "I've spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

Then he placed each cup and a piece of rock cake in front of everyone before he looked at Draco.

"And look who we have here," he said. For some reason, Draco gulped nervously under the gaze of the giant man. "Never have I thought, ever, that I would see a Malfoy become sommat other than Slytherin. Well, of course, there have been S―" Hagrid stopped so abruptly as if he had burnt himself or something. He then quickly tried to cover it up by correcting himself. "Some others who were from families like yers but still became something different. But not one came from Malfoys, never. It's nice to see that yer folk's also changing a bit."

Draco frowned. He glimpsed at Harry and Ron. He was quite sure that Hagrid was trying to hide something. It was especially obvious in the way he tried to change the subject so quickly by adding, "How's yer firs' week goin' anyway?"

They talked about what they had gone through since the term started. It started with how the three of them had nearly gotten in trouble with the caretaker Filch when they were lost on their way to the Charms class on the first day. It continued on until they reached the Potions class they just had that day.

"He seemed to really hate me," said Harry.

"Rubbish," Hagrid said, "Why should he?"

Yet, Hagrid looked strangely suspicious. He moved about to pour more tea into their cups, which were already half-filled. Draco got a feeling that he was avoiding their eyes.

"Right, how's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked, turning to Ron. "I liked him a lot. Great with animals, too."

Ron started to talk about his brother and his work in Romania. Draco paid only half of his attention as he watched Harry pick up a small piece of paper on the corner of the table. Draco leaned in to take a peek.

Gringotts Break-in Latest, it read. Draco remembered the article on the Daily Prophet that talked about the mysterious robbery attempt. He didn't give it much of his mind and returned to Hagrid and Ron's talk about dragons.

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

Ron stopped talking and looked at him as Draco, too, snapped his head toward him. Hagrid, on the other hand, tried to shrug it off as nonsense. Yet, Draco was quite sure that he was definitely avoiding looking at them.

He was hiding something ― something that he didn't want the three of them to know.

The weekend flew by quickly as most of the first-years struggled to get their homework done. Even from the very first week, students were bombarded with schoolwork after schoolwork. Still, exciting news came on Monday morning on the notice board in Gryffindor common room.

"Flying lessons are starting," said Seamus Finnigan.

"Finally!" Draco said excitedly.

"But guess who we're taking it with," Neville Longbottom said rather gloomily.

"Oh, no," Ron groaned. "Don't tell me that it's who I think it is."

Harry checked the notice.

"Slytherin," he said.

Ron groaned. Yet, Draco was too excited to care. Flying was one of the few things he most enjoyed back at home. He could be way above in the air, alone and away from his parents. He could even sometimes try and ditch Crabbe and Goyle behind. He could spend hours on end zooming through the air, imagining himself in the middle of an open Quidditch field, looking for the golden snitch.

"That reminds me," he said. "The Quidditch tryout's also this week, right? Do you think the first-years could also try out for the house team?"

Ron thought. "I don't think there were any rules about that. But it's just that we are not allowed to have our own broomsticks and usually, the players have their own broomsticks. And I haven't really heard of anyone making the team in their first years."

"Not yet, maybe," said Draco, grinning excitedly.

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"Are you thinking of trying out?" he asked. "Which position?"

"I don't know, maybe a seeker," Draco said, shrugging. "I'm not big enough for something like chaser or beater, and seekers have the most important job in the team, don't they? It's usually the seeker that decides the result of the game."

"That's true. And I think Fred and George mentioned that the Gryffindor team haven't found a competent seeker yet," said Ron.

Draco's heart began to beat with the thrill of possibilities. Maybe, just maybe, he could not only become the Quidditch player he had always dreamed of but also one of the youngest players in history.

Tuesday couldn't come sooner for Draco. At three-thirty that afternoon, he was nearly hopping as he hurried down the steps with Harry and Ron to get to the grounds for their first flying lesson. On the wide-open grass field, around twenty broomsticks were lying on the ground in two neatly-formed lines. Slytherins were already waiting, each one standing by one broomstick. Draco found Crabbe and Goyle glaring at them. Draco ignored them as he set himself next to Ron, standing beside an old nameless broomstick.

Madam Hooch arrived soon. She hurriedly marched through the two rows of students.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She said, looking around at everyone. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, now, hurry up!"

When everyone was readily standing beside their broomsticks, Madam Hooch stretched out her hand over hers.

"Stick your right hand over the broom, and say 'Up!'"

"Up!" Draco shouted along with everyone. His broomstick zoomed upward right into his hand.

He beamed and looked around. Not many have been successful in commanding their broomsticks. Only Harry, Draco, and some Slytherins had theirs steadily clasped in their hands. Even Crabbe and Goyle, whom he used to fly around their gardens with, were struggling as they grunted, "Up! Up!"

Madam Hooch then went around, taking a look and correcting everyone's grips and postures.

"Everyone's mounted on their brooms, correct? Grip it tight as I told you ― you don't want to be sliding off the end. Now, when I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, and lean forward slightly to touch back down."

Draco tightened his grip on the handle of his broomstick.

"On my whistle, three― two―"

Madam Hooch's whistle had just touched her lips and Draco had put his weight and strength on his legs when he caught someone soaring high and high into the air in the corner of his eyes. Neville, nervous and jumpy, had kicked off faster than he should have.

"Mr. Longbottom," Madam Hooch said. Neville's face turned white as he completely froze up on his broom, which was soaring higher and higher. "Come down, Mr. Longbottom. Mr. Longbottom!"

Even at Madam Hooch's words, Neville's broom shot forward and away from the rest of them. Nevile could only whimper and yelp as he held onto his shaking broomstick. The said broomstick seemed unpleasant to have him on its back, for it shook violently as if it was trying to throw Neville off it.

"Come back down this instant!" Madam Hooch barked toward it.

Yet, Neville had absolutely no control of his broomstick. He rolled over and over in midair, ran straight into the nearest wall multiple times before it shot downward and rammed toward the mass of students. Draco, Harry, and Ron had to jump out of his way as Neville swooshed past them. Madam Hooch pulled her wand out to stop him, but even she had no choice but to leap away at the speed of the broomstick.

Neville zipped and zapped in and out of everyone's sight before he finally couldn't hang on anymore. His body fell helplessly through the height while the broomstick flew away on its own and disappeared beyond the Forbidden Forest. Neville landed on the grass ground with a sickening "Thud!" Madam Hooch hurried over to him.

"Ooh dear, it's okay. Just a broken wrist," she assessed. She then helped Neville up on his feet and turned around toward the students. "None of you is to move until I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing, you understand? If I see a single broom in the air, the one who's riding will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they could even say 'Quidditch'."

The students gathered around themselves as they watched Madam Hooch take Neville toward the castle. Draco looked at the broomstick he was holding in his hand with a bit of sadness and frustration. He had been looking so forward to the moment he would finally get to fly.

Just then, Crabbe laughed out loud.

"Did you see that idiot's face?" he said.

The Slytherins joined in. As much as he didn't like Crabbe, Draco had to admit that Neville did look quite funny.

"That great lump," said Goyle.

"Oh, look what we've got here," a new voice joined in. Draco recognized the boy to be Blaise Zabini. Zabini sneered as he picked up what looked like a crystal ball from the grass by his feet. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him, isn't it?"

It was indeed the Remembrall that Neville had received by mail just that morning. Zabini threw the ball into the air lightly to catch it in his hand a few times.

"Give it here," Harry said quietly. His voice held more weight of emotions than it seemed that it attracted everyone's attention. Even Draco couldn't seem to find the incident funny anymore.

Zabini turned around and looked at him.

"No," he said. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find."

Before anyone could do anything, he got on his broomstick and took off. Draco didn't miss him jerking his head toward Crabbe and Goyle, who also flew up on their broomsticks, although they were not as swift as Zabini was.

"How about on a roof?" Zabini sneered down at Harry loudly. "What's the matter, Potter? A bit beyond your reach?"

Crabbe and Goyle floated right beneath Zabini and jeered at them.

Harry clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on his broomstick.

"Harry, no way!" Granger stepped forward and blocked Harry's path. "Madam Hooch told us not to move. Besides, you don't even know how to fly!"

But Harry didn't give her any more attention as he set himself on the broom, kicked the ground, and soared through the air. Draco, who just needed an excuse to get himself to fly, happily and excitedly mounted the broom.

"Not you too!" Granger cried exasperatedly. Yet, Draco ignored her and flew up above.

Zabini's eyes narrowed as he saw both Harry and Draco rise to look directly at him on the same level.

"Give it here or I'll knock you off your broom!" Harry yelled.

"Oh, yeah?" Zabini sneered.

He passed the Remembrall to Crabbe, who stumbled a little on his broom as he had to let both of his hands go so that he could barely catch the ball. While he steadied himself on the broom again, Goyle flew past Draco and Harry, further away from Crabbe. He was getting ready for Crabbe to throw him the Remembrall.

Draco lowered his body on the broom, tightening his grip on the handle. He watched sharply at Crabbe, whose eyes were set on Goyle. Crabbe pulled his hand back behind his shoulder, ready to throw the ball.

Draco turned his broom, heading upward, right in the middle of the probable arc the ball was going to make as it flew toward Goyle. He reached his one hand forward, and―

The Remembrall flew right into his hand. Grinning triumphantly, he sneered at Crabbe, who looked both shocked and furious. Draco held the Remembrall by his face with a smirk, giving it a little shake in a taunting manner. Then he heard a swooshing sound from behind him. He looked behind his shoulder and spotted Goyle flying toward him as if he was about to crash right into Draco at his highest speed. Crabbe also leaned forward on his broomstick, accelerating toward him.

"Harry!" Draco called, quickly throwing the Remembrall toward the general direction he thought Harry was in with all his might. Then he himself turned upward a little once again, getting out of Crabbe and Goyle's ways.

Hearing a soft thud and a set of "Oof!" behind his back, Draco smirked and headed down toward the ground. Zabini was already standing among the Slytherins, laid back as he watched. Draco landed his feet on the grass and turned around just in time to see Harry nearly plummet to the ground in a distance before he held out his hand and managed to catch the falling Remembrall just inches over the grass. Harry straightened his broom right away and touched down steadily on the ground. The Gryffindors ― except Granger ― yelled and cheered excitedly as they ran over to him. Draco was one of the quickest to reach him.

"That was some catch!" he said. "For a moment, I thought I threw it the wrong way."

"You nearly did," Harry said, grinning.

"Well done, Harry!" Ron cheered.

They were all enjoying the moment when―

"HARRY POTTER!"

Everyone's excited smile faded instantly as they turned in fright to find the head of their house was marching toward them. She did not look happy. She did not look happy at all.

"Never― in all my time at Hogwarts―" Draco knew that they were probably in very big trouble by the way Professor McGonagall couldn't even speak her words properly. "How dare you― might have broken your neck―"

"Professor, it wasn't his fault―"

"Silence, Ms. Patil."

"But Professor, Zabini was―"

"Enough, Mr. Malfoy." She silenced Ron with just one glance before turning to Harry. "Potter, you follow me. Now."

His shoulders slumped, Harry turned around and followed Professor McGonagall, who was already furiously walking back toward the castle. Draco and Ron shared glances. Draco turned around and saw Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggering at him.

Harry didn't return until the assigned class hour was over. Madam Hooch only returned to the class just a few minutes before the bell rang from the castle to tell the students to leave the broomsticks the way they had been at the beginning of class. She didn't even seem to notice that Harry was missing, and nobody mentioned how Harry got into trouble by flying without permission as everyone placed the broomsticks in neat rows. Draco and Ron returned to the Gryffindor tower along with the others to get ready for dinner.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" said Ron as they just entered the Entrance Hall of the castle. "Surely he can't be expelled for it, can he?"

"It was Professor McGonagall and not Madam Hooch that found him," Draco answered. "And if Harry gets in trouble for flying without permission, then I should too, shouldn't I?"

"Maybe she just didn't see you," said Ron.

Harry finally returned to the Gryffindor common room a few minutes after Draco and Ron got there themselves. Yet, unlike their expectations, he didn't seem so concerned or gloomy. Draco and Ron looked at each other in confusion.

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"Let's go to dinner," Harry said. "I'm starving. I'll tell you everything on the way there."

And so he did. By the time Harry was done telling how Professor McGonagall had made him a new seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the three of them were sitting at their house table in the Great Hall. Draco couldn't close his mouth and Ron had completely frozen while he was getting his portion of the steak and kidney pie to his mouth.

"You're joking," Ron said. "But first years never― you must be the youngest house player in about―"

"A century," said Harry. He was the only one of the three to eat his food, shoveling his dinner into his mouth. "According to Wood, at least."

Draco couldn't say anything. He was both shocked and deeply jealous by the turn of the event.

"I'm starting training next week," Harry added.

"But―" Draco stuttered. "But you never even― you said you never even flew on a broomstick before!"

"I haven't," Harry said.

Draco frowned. He forgot all about his food.

"It's just so unfair," he complained. "I wanted to play Quidditch more than anyone! How come you get to become a seeker when I don't?"

"Shh!" Harry shushed instantly, looking around. "Don't go telling anyone about it! Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Draco shut his mouth rather grumpily and sulked. He knew that Harry didn't really mean for any of it to happen, but he couldn't help feeling sour. He looked down at his plate just as the Weasley twins made their way toward Harry.

"Well done, Harry," George leaned forward and whispered. "Wood's just told us. We're on the team, too. Beaters."

"We're surely going to win that Quidditch Cup this year," added Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left. But this year's team's going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry. Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

The two of them didn't linger that long before going off to find their friend Lee Jordan.

"Well," Draco said, although rather sullenly. He couldn't even look at Harry directly. "You weren't so bad on that broom."

"Are you joking?" said Ron. "Not just 'not bad'! Brilliant!"

Ron was cut off, however, when Crabbe and Goyle appeared behind Harry.

"Having your last meal, Potter?" Goyle spat. "When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

Draco, Harry, and Ron looked at one another. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry ignored the two Slytherins, continuing eating. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles and scowled. Draco looked up at them.

"What, you want to fight?" he said. "You know I can take you on any moment on a duel? I have some spells I would very much like to try out."

Crabbe narrowed his eyes at Draco but didn't say a word. Goyle, on the other hand, looked a little nervous as he urged Crabbe. The two of them turned around and headed toward their house table.

Harry watched them go before turning toward Draco with questioning eyes.

"What's a duel?"

"It's a wizard's fight," Ron explained. "It's when you face one opponent at a time. You use spells and magic to defeat the other person."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing―"

Draco, Ron, and Harry all turned around to find yet another visitor. It was Hermione Granger.

"You're not planning to get into a fight, are you?" she said.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Ron said, frowning.

Draco was starting to share his sentiment. That girl was becoming too nosy and irritating.

"You're selfish, you know that?" Granger said disapprovingly. "If you get in trouble, and it's clear that you three are bound to, then you're going to lose Gryffindor points! I've worked hard to earn all those points from Professor McGonagall, learning all the Switching Spells―"

"Good for you," Ron cut her off. "Now, could you leave us alone? We're trying to eat here."

Granger stopped talking and glared at them with a frown before she stormed off.

"You noticed how she's always alone?" Ron grunted.

"No wonder," Draco smirked. "Who would want her constantly bossing them around?"

"Well, definitely not me," said Ron. He scooped a piece of his steak and kidney pie and stuffed it into his mouth.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the story!

I would love to hear what you thought, what you think can be better, and just about anything!

I hope you all stay safe and healthy and wish you a very good day, wherever you are!

Best,
Lisa :)