AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS IS THE FIFTH CHAPTER AND I AM HAVING SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS. PLEASE LEAVE YOUR REVIEWS FOR MY IMPROVEMENT.

"Who's that, Percy?"

"That's Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell.

'Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?' he asked Percy.

"that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

A hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

'Ouch!' Harry clapped a hand to his head

. 'What is it?' asked Ron.

'N-nothing.'

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had got from the teacher's look – a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

He looked at Hazel, she was also touching the scar on her forehead.

At last, the puddings too disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent.

'Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. 'First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.'

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

'I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

'Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. "

And now, bedtime. Off you trot!'

The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase.

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

'Password?' she said

. 'Caput Draconis,' said Percy,

and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it – Neville, the boy who lost the toad on the train needed a leg up – and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another.

"Just one moment." Harry made his way towards Hazel.

"where are you going?" Ron asked.

"Hazel" He replied in a word and kept moving.

Hazel was standing in a corner with Hermione and two other girls near the girls dormitory.

"Hazey, a moment?"

"Yes, Harry"

"Did your scar hurt today?"

"Yes! How do you know?"

"mine too, at dinner. When the greasy black haired Professor looked at me"

"Any idea what it is?"

"It just happened once, Hazey,it's probably nothing.

"I guess."

Before they could say anything, Percy Weasley the prefect came and ushered them both to bed.

Harry and Hazey went to bed and slept peacefully and happily. They had just gotten to the place where they actually belonged.

'There, look.'

'Where?'

'Next to the tall kid with the red hair.'

'Wearing the glasses, both of em?'

'Did you see their face?'

'Did you see the scars?' Whispers followed Harry and Hazel from the moment they left their dormitory next day People queuing outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at them, or doubled back to pass them in the corridors again, staring. The Potter Twins wished they wouldn't, because they was trying to concentrate on finding their way to classes.

'What have we got today?' Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge. 'Double Potions with the Slytherins,' said Ron. 'Snape's Head of Slytherin house. They say he always favours them – we'll be able to see if it's true.'

'Wish McGonagall favoured us,' said Harry.

Professor McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor house, but it hadn't stopped her giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Hazel and Hermione had just entered the Great Hall, Both of them were then, the post arrived. Harry had got used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages on to their laps.

Hedwig got Harry a letter.

Dear Harry and Hazel, (it said, in a very untidy scrawl) I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid.

"what's that?" Hazel spotted the letter in Harry's hands.

She sat down on the table, beside Harry, infront of Ron.

"Say yes." She said.

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled 'Yes, please, see you later' on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off again.

It was lucky that Harry and Hazel had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to them so far. At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had got the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry – he hated him, he hated both of them.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

As Hazel entered the room, she heard a wispher.

"Lily?"

She turned around and saw Snape.

"Professor, I am Hazel."

"So?" He said.

"You called me Lily, That was my mom."

"I did not, now get to your seat."

"But I heard you Professor." Hazel argued.

"10 points from Gryffindor, for arguing back." He said in a sneering voice.

Not many students had come by then.

Snape started the class by taking the register and paused at the Potters

,'Ah, yes,' he said softly, 'Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity.'

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

'You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking,' he began.

He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

'Potter!' said Snape suddenly, looking at Harry. 'What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?

' Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

'I don't know, sir,' said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. 'Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything.'

He ignored Hermione's hand.

'Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?' " This time he looked at Hazel. " Like your brother, you also don't know the answer,Hazel is it?" He c;early mocked at her for their conversation earlier.

"A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons." Hazel looked into those stone cold eyes as they widened with surprise.

"A lucky guess, i suppose." The Slytherin sniggered as Hazel's face turned could feel herself burn with fury.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils.

'Idiot boy!' snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. 'I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?'

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

'Take him up to the hospital wing,' Snape spat at Seamus.

Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.'You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another 10 points you Potters have lost for Gryffindor.

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.

'Don't push it,' he muttered. 'I've heard Snape can turn very nasty.'

"Professor, This was not Harry's fault." Hazel felt indignant.

"Silence."

"But..."

"Detention, Ms. Potter."

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, The Potters mind were racing and their spirits were low. They had lost twenty points for Gryffindor in their very first week – why did Snape hate them so much?

'Cheer up,' said Ron. 'Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?'

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. 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 a 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,' Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes on to 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.'

The rock cakes almost broke their teeth, but Harry, Hazel and Ron 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. Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch 'that old git'.

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson with Hazel chipping in every now and then. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry and Hazel not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

'But he seemed to really hate us.' The Twins cried in unison.

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

Yet Hazel couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet their eyes when he said that. Hagrid changed the conversation to Ron's brothers. After a long tea, they left. As they walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse.

Harry and Hazel had never believed they would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before they met Draco Malfoy. Draco had insulted Hagrid when they had met in Diagon Alley. Also he insulted Ron's family on their first day."

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday – and Gryffindor and Slytherin 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 you'll make a fool of yourself,' said Ron reasonably. 'Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk.'

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first-years never getting in the house Quidditch teams.

They all sat at the breakfast table and many of them were nervous about flying. As they talked the owls flew in.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

'It's a Remembrall!' he explained. 'Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hazel and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps into 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 towards a smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, grey 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 Hazel's but they 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.

Madam Hooch showed them how to mount on the brooms,

'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 forwards 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, face down, on the grass in a heap.

'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. she picked up Neville and left.

'Look!' said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. 'It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him.'

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

'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 collect – how about – up a tree?'

'Give it here!' Harry yelled Hazel stood by his side but didn't say anything, but Malfoy had leapt on to 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!'

Before Harry could mount on his broom, Hazel already had, Harry grabbed his broom. 'No!' shouted Hermione. 'Madam Hooch told us not to move – you'll get us all into trouble, Hazel, come back.'

"for the team, Hermione, for the team." Hazel told realised he'd found something both 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 mid-air. Malfoy looked stunned. Hazel came up behind Malfoy.

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

The ball moved towards the window. The window of Professor Mcgongall's office. Hazel raced towards it and saved it from breakinng the window in just the nick of a she didn't catch it. The little ball soared in to the wind and Harry spotted it,\. He raced his broom and accelerated at a high saw Harry catch it and she turned to the ground, joined by Harry a few minutes later. The Gryffindors cheered.

HARRY POTTER AND HAZEL POTTER!'. Professor McGonagall was running towards them. 'Never – in all my time at Hogwarts –' Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously,' – how dare you – might have broken your neck –'

'It wasn't their fault, Professor –' 'Be quiet, Miss Patil –'

'But Malfoy –'

'That's enough, Mr Weasley. Miss Granger, it's enough, thank you, Potters, follow me, now.'

Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode towards the castle. They was going to be expelled, the twins shared worried glances. Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

'Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?'

Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused. '

Follow me, you three,' said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor,

Wood looking curiously at Harry and Hazel.

'In here.' Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom,

'Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker.' Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

'Are you serious, Professor?'

'Absolutely,' said Professor McGonagall crisply. 'The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?'

"Yes Professor,"

"and her?" Oliver pointed at Hazel.

"Keeper." Professor McGonagall said.

"Her, Professor, but she doesn't have the built of a keeper, Professor." Oliver looked unsure.

"Almost caught a Remembrall from my window in 6 seconds, Wood," Professor McGonagall pointed out. " From the ground to my window in six seconds, Wood, and the first time."

Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once. 'Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potters?' he asked excitedly.

'Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team,' Professor McGonagall explained.

Wood was now walking around Harry and Hazel staring at them. 'Light – speedy – we'll have to get them decent brooms, Professor – a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say.'

'I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks ...' Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Potters.

'I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you.'

Then she suddenly smiled. 'Your father would have been proud of you two, Both of you you joining the team,' she said. 'He was an excellent Quidditch player himself.'