A/N: Another update :) Enjoy Chapter 12!

Harry stood under the showerhead as a steady stream of warm water slowly but surely began to wake him from his trance-like stupor.

It was far too early to be up for a Saturday. And in fact, most of Gryffindor tower, including all of Harry's dorm mates, had not yet managed to roll out of bed.

But unfortunately, no one seemed to have informed Oliver Wood of this information.

Not that he would have cared in the slightest.

Harry had been startled awake at the crack of dawn by the enthusiastic quidditch captain, who had immediately begun spouting some nonsense about booking the pitch, and getting an extra early start on practice this year.

I should have hexed him and gone back to sleep, Harry thought viciously, as his eyes continued to droop closed. Oliver was absolutely insane. Not to mention that Harry couldn't even remember the last time that he had had a decent night's sleep. He needed all the rest he could get.

Now, as he stood there in the shower, Harry stared down at his arms for a moment, as his mind continued to work to gain some basic level of functionality. The bruises from Uncle Vernon were all but gone now. Only the faintest of traces remained behind, for which Harry was extremely grateful. He just wished now that all of his scars would disappear. He knew that there were still plenty of old ones decorating his back. Ones that he had not been able to reach with a bruise balm.

Sighing, Harry turned the water off and stepped out of the shower.

It was time to go play some quidditch.

The cool morning breeze swept across the school lawn and felt completely refreshing to Harry, whose eyes had finally decided to open up to more than just halfway. He was suddenly glad to be outside just then, with his broomstick on his shoulder. He couldn't wait to get into the air.

"Harry! Harry!" a familiar voice called out from back near the castle entrance.

Turning, Harry caught sight of Colin Creevey, sprinting across the grounds in his direction, while waving a piece of parchment in the air.

"Colin, what are you doing up so early?" Harry asked, surprised to see the first year coming up next to him.

"I heard someone talking on the stairs about quidditch practice, and I knew you were on the team, so I figured you'd be up too, and I've never seen anyone play quidditch before. I don't even know the rules or anything. But I needed to see you anyway, because I have to tell you something, so I thought I would try to catch you before you had to practice, and then I could watch you practice and—"

"What is it, Colin?" Harry finally interrupted. The boy's rambling was starting to give him a headache.

"Right," Colin said, suddenly thrusting his piece of parchment forward. "I found a few things that might help you with your photo project."

"Really?" Harry suddenly sounded excited as he took the parchment from the younger boy's hands and glanced down at it.

Colin eagerly began to explain his findings as he hurried along next to Harry on the way to the quidditch pitch.

"There was this really helpful section in one of the books from the library. It had a few different spells that could work. I wrote them down for you, and added the page numbers in case you wanted to read up on them. Really the most important part seems to be that all the photograph pieces need to be there for any of the spells to work and—"

"Harry! What took you?"

They had arrived at the pitch, and Oliver was standing there now, looking expectantly at Harry. The rest of the Gryffindor team stood behind him, looking exhausted and half-asleep. Most of them appeared to be slumped over and leaning heavily on their brooms for support.

"Sorry," Harry answered, as he stuffed the piece of parchment into the pocket of his robes, right next to the new picture of his mother. "I'm coming."

The team turned to head into the changing rooms, and Harry made to follow them. Looking over his shoulder, he made eye contact with Colin.

"Thanks, Colin. I really appreciate it. We'll talk later, okay?"

Colin nodded enthusiastically. "I'm gonna go get a seat to watch the practice!"

Harry raised his eyebrows as he watched Colin rush off towards the stands. How did that kid manage to have so much energy this early in the morning?

Shaking his head, Harry let out a quick sigh before turning, and heading into the changing rooms.

One hour. One entire hour. That was how long it took for the Gryffindor team to actually make it out onto the pitch.

"Does Oliver really think we understood half of those diagrams?" Alicia Spinnet was saying to Katie Bell. "We just need to start flying already!"

Harry couldn't agree more, and immediately prepared to mount his broom.

"You're not done yet, Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Ron and Hermione standing at the edge of the pitch, each carrying pieces of toast in their hands. He sighed and shook his head.

"We haven't even been in the air yet. Oliver was going over some new plays."

"Well, that's a nice way of putting it," Fred said, coming up next to Harry. "Attempting to bore us to death seems to be a much more accurate description."

"Alright, let's go people!" Oliver called out. "Everyone mount up!"

But before any of them had the chance to kick up off the ground, Oliver looked over towards the stands and frowned. "Who is that kid taking pictures?"

Harry followed Oliver's gaze and answered. "He's a first year Gryffindor, Oliver. He's harmless."

"Are you sure?" Oliver asked, a hint of paranoia entering his voice. "Because if the Slytherins are sending spies to watch our practice—"

"Then they probably wouldn't feel the need to come themselves," George finished his statement, pointing to the far edge of the pitch.

Oliver made a noise that almost sounded like a growl, before marching off to meet Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain, and the rest of the Slytherin team.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, coming up next to Harry, as an argument broke out between Oliver and Marcus. Ron wasn't very far behind.

"I don't know. But Oliver booked the pitch today for Gryffindor," Harry answered, as he hurried over to Oliver with the rest of his teammates.

"I don't care what Professor Snape says! We have the pitch first!" Oliver thundered.

"Sorry, Wood," Marcus said with a shrug, using a tone of voice that suggested he wasn't very sorry at all. "We have to train our new seeker."

It was only then that Harry noticed Malfoy standing there, off to the side, smirking at the scene before him.

"You're the new seeker?" Harry blurted out in shock.

"That's right, Potter," Malfoy replied. "I'm sorry to say that you don't have a chance this year. Especially since my father bought the entire team some new brooms."

All of the Slytherins held out their brooms then, so that the Gryffindors could all get a good look at the brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and One models.

Ron's mouth fell open as he noticed the gleaming, new brooms.

Hermione, however, scoffed, completely unimpressed. "No one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in."

Malfoy's face instantly twisted into an ugly scowl, and he rounded on the bushy-haired girl.

"No one cares what you think, you filthy little mudblood!"

In the next second then, it seemed, chaos ensued. Ron had launched himself at Malfoy, and Marcus Flint threw himself between them to protect his new seeker. The twins and Oliver rushed forward to pull Ron away from the other boy, and in the confusion, several of the players from both teams appeared to be grappling with each other in an attempt to protect their own teammates.

"That's enough! Everyone cut it out!" Oliver shouted.

"Ron!" Harry, Hermione, and the twins called out, as the boy continued trying to fight his way through the sea of people towards Malfoy.

"You heard what he said!" Ron yelled. "He's going to pay for it!"

"No. Practice is over!" Oliver called out.

Everyone froze where they were. To hear Oliver Wood call an early end to quidditch practice was shocking, to say the least.

"If this continues," Oliver was able to lower his voice in the silence that followed, "chances are that some people are going to get suspended from the team. And I can't have that, so...it's over."

Ron yanked himself free from George's grasp, and joined Harry and Hermione as the rest of the Gryffindor team slowly made their way back to the changing rooms.

"Good choice, Wood," Marcus taunted, as the rest of the Slytherins burst into laughter.

"Oh, this isn't over Flint," Wood called over his shoulder. "I will be speaking to my head of house about this today."

"Let's go," Harry said, nodding his head in the direction of the castle.

Ron and Hermione fell into step beside him.

"What does it mean? Mudblood?" Hermione asked, when the three of them were well away from the pitch.

Ron grimaced at the word.

And suddenly, it clicked for Harry. Because Malfoy had used the term on both Hermione and his mother.

"It's an insult for a muggleborn, isn't it?" he asked.

"And a foul one at that," Ron spat out. "It was the absolute worst thing he could have said."

Harry looked over at Hermione. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," she said. "It's just a word."

But Harry thought that the girl was probably more bothered by it than she was currently letting on.

"How did you know what it meant?" Hermione asked curiously, looking over at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Just a guess. It's not the first time I've heard Malfoy use the word."

"He called someone else that name?" Ron asked incredulously.

Harry sighed. He didn't see any reason to hide that secret any longer. "Yeah. My mother."

"What?" his friends said in shock.

But Harry didn't get the chance to respond. Because just then, Colin Creevey rushed up, chattering excitedly.

"Oh wow! That was amazing! I got loads of pictures. Are the practices always this exciting?"

Ron and Hermione both gave Harry a questioning look, and Harry just shrugged.

There was not much they could do at that point then, other than to simply listen to the first year chatter on and on, all the way back to the castle.

Harry was frustrated.

After dinner, he had once again found himself in the library, at the same secluded table in the back where it was the quietest, and he wouldn't have to worry too much about being disturbed.

He had brought his bag of photo scraps with him. Along with Colin's notes. He even had the correct textbook opened to the correct page which explained in thorough detail the correct way to use the spell that Harry was trying out. It was the last one on Colin's list.

And nothing was working. All of Harry's photographs remained in a shredded heap on the table in front of him.

"It doesn't make any sense!" Harry said angrily, banging a fist on the table. Luckily, Madam Pince was too far away to hear.

"No luck?"

Startled, Harry looked up at the sound of the voice.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?" he asked, tapping his wand against the table in thought.

"Making sure you know that it's almost curfew," the girl replied. "So this is what you've been working on in here? Repairing your pictures?"

Harry nodded. "Nothing's working, though. Why isn't anything working?"

"Have you considered, you know, maybe asking for help?"

"I have. I asked you, and then Colin wanted to help—"

"Have you asked an adult?"

Harry frowned. That wasn't something he had even considered doing. He was used to hiding things from adults, not asking them for help.

"No," he answered at last.

"There are many, many highly qualified witches and wizards in this castle, Harry. I'm sure they'd be happy to give you some advice."

Harry frowned. Why did that idea suddenly make him feel so uncomfortable?

"I'll think about it," he finally answered.

Hermione nodded her approval. "We really should get going now, Harry. We need to be back in Gryffindor tower in ten minutes, and Madam Pince has already started kicking people out."

"You go on. I just need to put everything away."

Hermione hesitated, but then nodded. "Okay."

Harry watched her leave, and then slammed his textbook shut. Why did this have to be so difficult?

He folded up Colin's parchment and shoved it back into his pocket. His hand brushed against his new photograph, and he took it out for a moment to stare at it, once again wondering about the three words written on the back.

It was strange, but as much as he loved this picture, Harry had to admit that he missed the old one. He didn't know why that was. It certainly didn't make any kind of sense. After all, Snape was a part of that picture, and Harry didn't like Snape.

Just like Snape didn't like Harry.

Harry sighed and put the picture back in his pocket.

The corridors were dark and nearly empty by the time Harry was making his way back to Gryffindor Tower. Checking his watch, he saw that he only had two minutes left before curfew. There was no way he was going to make it. He was going to be a few minutes late.

Up ahead, a tall figure suddenly rounded the corner, and for a moment, Harry feared that it was Snape.

But then the man came closer, and Harry saw that it was not the potions master, but Gilderoy Lockhart instead.

He suddenly wished it had been Snape.

"Harry, Harry, Harry!" the man called out when he saw the small second year in the corridor. "We're cutting it a bit close to curfew tonight, aren't we?" He beamed down at the Gryffindor.

Harry made an attempt at a weak smile, but wasn't sure he was successful.

"I was actually hoping to run into you today, Harry. I just received word from Flourish and Blotts."

Harry raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Sir?"

"Now, don't worry, I got it all sorted out. I managed to intercept your order just in time. They were going to send your books out a couple days ago, but I told them that you needed all the special editions of my textbooks, and that they needed to be free of charge. Of course, most of the special editions were out of stock, so that delayed things a bit, but not to worry Harry! Your textbooks will be here in the coming days!"

Harry could hardly believe his ears. Lockhart was the reason that his textbooks hadn't come in yet? The reason he still had to share books with Hermione in class, and borrow them from his friends to do his homework?

Because the man thought that he needed special editions?

Harry took a calming breath before making an attempt at speech.

"You shouldn't have, Professor. Really."

"Oh, nonsense! It was my pleasure! Now you better be off to your common room, Harry. You wouldn't want to get yourself caught out of bed after hours."

Lockhart wagged his finger in an irritating way, and Harry turned away from the man, seething.

But then there was another voice in the hallway. A voice unlike any that Harry had ever heard before. It was cold and terrifying. And it was dripping with pure venom.

"Come...let me rip you...Let me tear you...Let me kill you..."

A chill went down Harry's spine, and he whirled around again, his eyes settling on Lockhart.

"What was that? Did you hear that?"

Lockhart frowned. "Hear what?"

"That voice! It was...it said...You really didn't hear that?"

Lockhart's eyebrows rose. "I think you need some sleep, my boy."

Harry strained his ears, but the voice did not speak again. It was completely silent in the hallway.

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do need some sleep," he said quietly after a moment, turning and hurrying off down the corridor without a backward glance.

Behind him, Lockhart simply smiled and shook his head, before continuing on his way to his office.

A/N: And we are moving right along with this story. Next up will be some more Harry/Snape interaction. That's always fun to write :)

Thanks for reading!

-Ailee17