It's Aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!

…..

Okay, I'm assuming that all of you have run out of sharp pointy bits to throw at the screen in a desperate attempt to kill me via internet for my extended absence. Now I can get on with the apologizing.

Firstly, I would like to say a very, very, sincere apology to all of you fabulous readers out there, and express just how much I am disappointed with myself. I have actually been suffering a very sever case of Writer's block these last few months, and for those of you who follow me as a writer and not just this story, what few other things I was able to push out were all semi-forced and drained what was left of my inspiration. Believe me, it has been absolute torture with all these thoughts and ideas for scenes running around in my head, for all my different stories, and not being able to express them whenever I sit down to write.

On a somewhat happier note, welcome back to The Founder's Circle. Now, I don't want to make a big deal out of it, so you can actually get to the story relatively quickly, but this chapter essentially covers the long-awaited fallout after Ron's humiliation, and the first quidditch match of the year, with Harry playing chaser this time, although for the sake of plot and amusement a few things do stay the same.

Alright, before I let you go, I do wnat to actually give a shout out to a reviewer, the most recent one in fact, who all of you can thank for actually getting this chapter now and breaking at least a bit of my writer's block. This person, through a feat of sheer audacity and patience, somehow managed to wade through two hundred pages of stories in the archives to find my story, and I somehow managed to catch their eye. Beyond that even, it was their rather humorous demand for more not even twenty four hours ago, along with a line that actually reminded me of my big sister enough to make me laugh, that inspired me to push through and finish this chapter. So for that, I wanted to give a big thank you to Rstewart0516. I actually greatly appreciate every review I get, and draw a lot of my inspiration and drive to write from them. As such, I have a proposal for you lot. We currently stand at fifty two reviews. If, by the end of this story, we can manage to get up to one hundred, and perhaps even further, i promise to deliver to you a ten thousand word chapter for both the ending of this story, as well as the beginning of the next, which will cover volume two of the Harry Potter books. So, get out there and review!

Alright, now I'll let ya'll get on two the story, since you've been so long deprived of it. Read, Review, and Relax. Enjoy!

XXX

Albus Dumbledore frowned as he watched the young Mr. Potter eating breakfast. The boy was coming along well in his classes, at least on the practical applications side of things, but that wasn't what had the aging Headmaster worried at the moment. The problem was the young wizard's current companions. Ronald Weasley, the youngest son of the large redheaded family, normally sat side by side with the boy, but now he was nowhere to be seen. Now, normally this would not be an entirely problematic occurrence. The boy could easily be sick, or simply sleeping in. The likelihood of that was low, however, given who was sitting in his place.

Hermione Granger was a highly intelligent girl, it was true, and quite powerful for her age. Granted, compared to young Harry's other friends, her sheer strength was rather impotent, but those particular students were far outside the norm. The girl, however, was highly skilled in her control of magic, and even showed signs of becoming a sensor, a rare and powerful gift for any witch or wizard. In all truth, Granger would make a perfect companion for Harry, able to grant the boy assistance if he ever needed it, if it weren't for one, tiny problem. Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley were supposedly great enemies, and Dumbledore doubted the ginger would take kindly to her presence. In fact, even now the old wizard could see him storming up to the Gryffindor table where Harry and his little entourage were gathered, anger seeming to roll of him. For a moment, Dumbledore considered interfering, but the memory of his previous attempt at such an action stayed his hand. No, it would be best to let Mr. Potter sort this one out. After all, children fought all the time.

XXX

Hermione stared in horror at the splattered remains of the breakfast, clumped in a great pile where the largest prat she had ever met, Ronald Weasley, had previously been located. She had known Harry and his friends, other than Ron, were powerful, but this? And she had been the cause of it. Slowly, the bushy haired young witch turned away from the mess to face Harry, the boy's golden eyes still locked onto the spot where Ronald had vacated the Hall.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I-" Hermione's apology was cut off by a sharp look from Harry, who finally tore his gaze away from the memory of the cruel redhead.

"Don't, Hermione. None of that was your fault. If anything, it's Ron's, for not being able to stop being a big baby." Harry held her gaze for a moment, his eyes serious, before suddenly he broke out into a small smile. "Besides, that's what friends are for, right?" Hermione just nodded, not trusting herself to speak without bursting into even more expressions of gratitude. Even if she had tried, however, they would have been short lived, as two boys who looked like older versions of the boy that had just been chased out of the Great Hall by an angry Harry sauntered up, mischievous grins spread wide across their faces.

"Harry, what a wonderful surprise. A fine show you put on there."

"Yes, but don't you think you might have gone just a bit overboard?" Hermione stared as the two boys threw their arms around her new friend, appearing as if they didn't even care that their younger brother had just been assaulted by the boy they were now embracing. Harry, for his part, simply cocked an eyebrow at the two.

"Did you hear what he called her?" He asked, gesturing at Hermione. "He called her the B-word." The twins tilted their head at Harry, their own eyebrows raised.

"Which one? Bossy-"

"Brat-"

"Brainiac-"

"Bitch." Harry finished, cutting them off before they could gain too much steam. In an instant, the two brother's jovial expressions disappeared, and they glanced at each other.

"George, my dearest twin, I do believe ickle Ronniekins is in need of some… brotherly guidance."

"Yes, Fred, I do concur. Shall we go deliver it?"

"We shall." hermione could barely suppress a shiver at the icy tone the normally laughing twins spoke in, and the feeling didn't go away even after the two troublemakers swept out of the great hall, evil sounding cackles following in their wake. Hermione looked at Harry, to see what his reaction was, but the golden eyes wizard simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Eh, he earned it."

XXX

Harry, are you alright?" Susan asked worriedly as her friend stared out at the Quidditch stadium, his robes flapping forlornly in the wind. All through breakfast he had been quiet, eating his food in silence, and now he was simply looking at the stadium, a frown on his face.

"Yeah, it's just odd, without Ron, you know? He was the one who cared about Quidditch. I just kinda went along with it." Susan smiled, but it was Hermione who spoke up from his other side.

"Don't worry Harry, I'm sure you'll do fine. You did say you loved flying, right?" Harry nodded, but still looked somewhat nervous. Then Luna spoke up.

"Harry, your fire is bright. It will burn away the darkness, if you learn how to control it." The odd girl gave the rest of the group a small smile, before returning to her newspaper. Harry, caught off guard, cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Er, right. Thanks, I guess." Seeing the lost look on Harry's face, Susan reached out, patting his shoulder.

"You'll be alright, Harry. Now go on, you haven't got much time." The wizard nodded, trotting off towards the locker rooms. The girls watched him go, Susan sighing. "Honestly. He's been worrying far too much. Just because Ron introduced him to the sport doesn't mean he should be afraid of it." Susan wasn't expecting anyone to answer, had been talking to herself really, but then Hermione spoke up in a small voice.

"Can you blame him? After what that prat did, I'm surprised Harry isn't avoiding the thing entirely. Susan nodded thoughtfully in response as they set off,the brunette leading the way to the stands.

"I suppose, but Harry is far too stubborn to let something like that stop him. Still, he's an amazing flier, really. I think he's just afraid that the memory of Ron will tarnish his fun." Hermione, smiling slightly, nodded and fell silent, retrieving a book from her bag as they made their way to the stands. When the three girls arrived, they quickly made their way up to the back, where one Neville Longbottom was sitting, glancing around nervously.

"Hello, Neville. May we sit here with you?" Susan asked politely, startling the boy out of his seat.

"Er, yeah, I suppose. Plenty of room." The brunette smiling at the pudgy boy, nodding her head in polite thanks. The trio sat down, arranging themselves comfortably upon the seats. It didn't take long for the game to start, and as soon as it did each and every one of them were quickly enthralled. Susan and Neville had seen quidditch games before, being pureblooded wizards raised in the wizarding world, but the game never lost its charm. Hermione, and even Luna, had never really seen a game before. Hermione, of course, was a muggleborn, and as such hadn't even known about the game until just a few months previously, while Luna had never really had a chance to go, what with her father never being very interested. Now, though, their breath was taken away by the beautiful sight of the players weaving around each other intricately as the match progressed. Soon, their attention was drawn to one particular player, who was practically dancing through the fast paced mess on his new Cleansweep Seven, a broom renowned for its control. Harry, displaying an uncanny control and knack for maneuvers on a broom that probably shouldn't have been possible, was dominating the field. His real shine though, came not from his personal skill and ability, but how well the boy worked with his teammates. Alone, many of his moves would have been easily blocked, as the Slytherin chasers had quickly attempted to gang up on him, and even the beaters were doing whatever they could to slow the young chaser down. But the boy, true to his declaration to Dumbledore, had trained long and hard to be able to fit seamlessly into the team, refused to foolishly let his own pride take over, and happily handed over the quaffle when necessary. In fact, for the first part of the match, Harry never even scored a single goal, instead choosing to merely be instrumental in allowing others the honor.

Eventually, though, with Gryffindor leading nearly one hundred points, his was bound to change. Somehow, Harry found himself in possession of the quaffle, and nearing the end of the court. In the stands, each of his friends were holding their breaths in anticipation of his first goal, excitement racing through them. But it was not to be. Just as harry drew up to throw the quaffle into the rings, a blurred form of green and silver suddenly slammed into him, knocking his aim off balance, and the ball flew , the entire stadium was in an uproar, angry voices shouting for a foul.

"Oh, come on! They can't seriously allow that!" Even Hermione, who had never been interested in sports in the slightest before coming to Hogwarts, was expressing her outrage. "That deserves at least some sort of foul, right?" She asked, as the rest of the group nodded. Indeed it did, as they saw when Madame Hooch, the referee for the match, awarded Harry a free shot at the goal. He made it easily, but something was lacking in the fact that his first goal was to be a penalty shot. Even the Slytherins seemed somewhat discontent, glaring at their captain, who had been responsible for the attack. One glare in particular, sent from two orbs of venomous green, seemed to promise death to the older student. Such an overt assault was truly not befitting of Slytherin, and the whole house recognized it.

"Um, what's Harry doing?" Hermione asked, her tone suddenly worried. Play had resumed after the disgusting display of cheating, but one chaser was noticeably missing from the fray. Instead, Harry was slowly rising above the other players, a terrified look on his face as his broom started to buck around.

"Why, It looks like 'e might've lost control of 'is broom." Hagrid, who had arrived a few minutes before, having decided it would be easier to watch the game from the stands rather than his hut, said. What really caught Susan's attention, however, was when Luna leaned forward, and whispered something in her ear that had fear clenching her heart.

"Susan, Harry's dancing with shadows again." Tearing her eyes from the game, Susan stared up at Harry to see that the silver haired girl was right. All around her best friend there were shadows of dark magic, frighteningly similar to the ones which had attacked him at their first DADA class. Closing her eyes in attempt to focus on them, Susan closed her eyes as she spoke, her tone hard.

"Hermione, what is Quirrell doing?" Hermione, who had been informed of the danger that the teacher posed shortly after joining the group, didn't hesitate to search the crowd for the turbaned man.

"He's, staring at harry… and muttering. Merlin, it looks like he's casting a curse of some kind!" Susan nodded slightly, her eyes still closed.

"Alright, can you see if you can distract him? Luna can stay here and help me." Hermione, who was already halfway out of her seat, paused.

"What are you going to do?"

"We're going to do our best to slow him down. Now go." The bushy haired witch nodded once, then ran off. Susan, ignoring Hagrid and Neville's questions about what they were talking about, reached out her hand, allowing Luna to grasp it firmly. The girl may have been a bit scattered in the head, but even she could tell when something was serious.

The two girls couldn't get to Harry while he was in the air, so they didn't even consider trying the method they had used previously of flooding him with their magic through contact. Even if they could, Susan doubted Draco would bother to come to their rescue again. So instead they were forced to merely link their two powers together and throw them up into the air, hoping for the best.

Apparently the best wasn't very good at all. The girl's efforts managed to slow the dark, deadly magic assaulting Harry slightly, but it wasn't nearly enough. Quirrell's spell work was slippery, sliding in between the gaps that their lack of control opened for him. It weaved in, out, and through, continuing to strike at Harry with impunity. They weren't alone, however. There was another player at work, a thin, finely honed edge of magic cutting into Quirrell's magic at every turn. Someone must've been casting a countercurse, the dark emerald magic shimmering as it defended their friend.

Luckily, they did not need to fight for long, as the hostile curse suddenly disappeared, leaving Susan and Luna to sigh in relief. Harry, however, couldn't. He had something stuck in his mouth. Coughing, the boy pounded his chest, until something small and golden popped out and landed in his hands. Harry could hardly believe his eyes. Somehow, he had caught the golden snitch.

"Hey, Spinnet!" He called, attracting the Gryffindor seeker's attention. When she turned to look at him, a curious look on her face, Harry grinned and tossed the small golden ball to her. After, of course, he wiped it on his robes. No need to be gross after all. The girl caught, surprise in her eyes, but she couldn't say anything before the announcer, the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan, was calling out the victory, having seen the snitch in her hand. A slight disappointment crossed her face, but she flew down with the rest of the team to be greeted by their house. Harry, however, was too busy being mobbed by his friends to notice this, however.

"Harry! Don't you ever do something like that again!" Susan cried, throwing herself at the boy to glomp him fiercely. Harry barely managed to keep his feet, but he happily returned the hug, even as he laughed.

"Hey, none of that was my fault. I just did my best not to be thrown off my broom."

"Stop laughing!" Susan, letting go for a second, smacked his arm, before smiling despite herself. "You stupid idiot." Before she could say anything else, Luna stepped forward, giving the golden-eyed boy a short hug.

"Shadows are bad, Harry. They don't dance very well." Harry just shook his head. Even with his near-death experience, Luna was still Luna. Looking past her, the boy saw Hermione, looking nervous as she loitered near the periphery of the group.

"What, no hug from you?" Hermione jumped at the sound of his voice, before glancing his way with a look vaguely reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights.

"I-I wasn't sure if…" her voice trailed off, and the bushy haired witch glanced down, chewing her lip vigorously. Harry grinned, before stepping forwards and wrapping her in a warm hug, earning a loud squeak.

"You're a friend. You don't need to be unsure." He said, resting his chin on her shoulder. The girl, who had stiffened slightly, relaxed, tentatively returning the hug. Harry sighed. Hermione was still so nervous, as if she expected to be expelled from their little quartet at any moment. Right then, he resolved to do his absolute utmost to make sure the girl became comfortable with them all, as if she had been a part of the group all along. As he stepped back and gave her a small smile, however, he was interrupted by a gruff voice from behind him.

"Righ' ye are, Harry, an' good job at gettin' out o' that mess alive. I do have to ask, though, what exactly were you lot all scramblin' abou' for, talkin' abou' Professor Quirrell and all?" Harry whirled to take in the wide form of Hagrid, a smile splitting his face.

"Hagrid, you came! Did you enjoy the match."The bearded giant of a man smiled back, as far as the assembled could gather from the stretching beard that hid his mouth.

"Aye, it was a good game. You're jus' like your father on a broom. Ain' never seen another who coul' fly half so well. Tha' bit at the end though, summat like that can give anyone a heart attack."Harry, who had practically preened at the compliment to his flying skills, suddenly turned solemn at Hagrid's reminder of the incident that had nearly taken his life. It was only by sheer luck and a death-grip induced by fear that the boy wasn't currently a stain on the quidditch field.

"Yeah, Quirrell nearly got me good. Bastard must have it out for me or something." The casual comment, which Harry hadn't really expected to garner too much attention, having grown far too used to the concept that Quirrell was a potentially dangerous element in the otherwise exciting and as near to perfect as possible school, instantly had Hagrid frowning at the boy and his fellow students, who were each nodding in agreement.

"Language, Harry, yeh're far too young teh be talkin' like tha'. An' wha's this about Quirrel havin' it out for yeh?" Hagrid's response was a derisive snort as Harry turned a disbelieving eye towards the gentle giant.

"How else do you think my broom started jumping about as it did? The man," He spat the word out as if it burned his tongue, "was cursing me."

"Yeah, and it's not the first time he's tried to hurt Harry either." Susan added, with the other two girls nodding in agreement, albeit belatedly in Hermione's case. The young bookworm had tried to convince herself that what she had seen in that classroom was nothing, a figment of her imagination, before she met the others, and even then, she was apprehensive about accusing a teacher about such an atrocious crime. Now, however, the bushy-haired witch could do little to argue against the evidence that had been laid out during the match; Quirrell definitely had something against Harry, enough to curse Hermione's fellow Gryffindor's broom. Hagrid, however, didn't seem to agree.

"Nonsense, a teacher would never do something like tha'. This is Hogwarts, the safes' place in the world." Harry, for his part, merely raised an eyebrow at the man.

"Yeah, tell that to the giant dog and the troll." Hagrid's expression turned aghast at the mention of these incidents, before scrambling desperately to regain his footing.

"Now those were accidents, and… 'old on, how'd you know about Fluffy." Now it was Hermione's turn to speak up, disbelief written clear across her face.

"You named a cerberus fluffy?" Hagrid chuckled, nodding.

"Yeah, he's mine. Bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-" Suddenly, the large man stopped his speech, turning shrewd eyes towards the four students, three of whom were now looking very curious, while the other appeared to be watching a butterfly land on her nose, staring at it with her bronze eyes. "Now don' be asking me about tha', top secret stuff, that is." His warning tone did little to dampen their curiosity. In fact, it only served to cause their eyes to widen, and Hermione, ever the inquisitive one, couldn't stop herself from asking a desperate question.

"Guarding something? What are you talking about?" When Hagrid looked hesitant, muttering something under his breath, Harry stepped in, a sly smile crossing his face.

"Yes, Hagrid, do tell. It may explain why Quirrell keeps trying to bump me off." That didn't seem to be the right thing to say, because Hagrid's face suddenly turned ruddy as he pointed a thick finger at the students, lecturing them.

"Now quit tha', Quirrel's a teacher an' he wouldn't try to steal something from the school. Forget the dog, forget what he's guarding, that's between Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel-"

"Oh, so there's someone called Nicholas Flamel involved, is there?" Interrupted Susan, the name having caught her attention. There was something oddly familiar about the name, a faint echo of a memory, but it was enough to catch her attention. A moment later however, she almost regretted that fact, as Hagrid suddenly cut himself short, before mumbling all sorts of self-deprecating comments and storming off. Susan, after watching the giant of a man slowly grow smaller in the distance as he stalked towards the hut that resided on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, turned back to the rest of the impromptu interrogators, a bemused smile on her lips. She was matched by similar looks, even Luna looking away from her butterfly long enough to tilt her head curiously in the direction of the retreating Hagrid, and there was no need for words. All four children turned without hesitation and started to walk back to the castle, making a beeline for the library.