Chapter 16: Politics and Broomsticks

Tuesday passed in a state of mounting anticipation for the first years about their upcoming flying lesson. Everyone from wizard families talked about Quidditch constantly, and Harry had finally borrowed Quidditch Through the Ages from Hermione to read up on the sport. It seemed that unlike Muggle sports professional Quidditch was played in rural areas where it could not be detected by Muggles, but most young witches and wizards had a team they supported, much like Dean supported the Westham football team. Harry had even caught Theo staring perplexedly at the motionless figures on the poster which hung beside Dean's bed. Seamus, who prided himself on being of both worlds, said he couldn't get into football. To him it lacked the excitement and complexity of Quidditch—since there was only one ball and no one could fly—a statement which always brought the subject back around to the upcoming lesson.

Harry was preoccupied with his impending meeting with Professor Flitwick about his mother's locket. Part of him dreaded Wednesday morning because he feared there would be nothing that could be done to repair it, and if it could be opened what would they find inside? Everyone who had known Harry's parents always told him that he looked like his father, and that he had his mother's eyes, but he had never seen a photo of either of them. This was something that had bothered him when he was small, but after asking to see photos of his parents, and being screeched at by Aunt Petunia to not ask questions, it was something he had grown to live with. Now that there was a chance he could see his Mum, and it was so close to being a reality, he couldn't think of anything else. It also gave him a strange sympathy for his aunt, if she had lived with that picture trapped inside the locket all those years, it must have been torture for her. With all those thoughts in his head, it was no wonder that he barely held himself back from asking the Charms Master about the locket, when he saw him Tuesday as Horatio.

Horatio was caught up in the Slytherin house politics and balancing his friendships within the house and in the wider school. He, Draco, and Ron spent their free period after Charms in the common room, playing games with the other first years. Pansy had even participated in the games. He had no idea what had changed her tune, but at least she finally seemed to be finding her place in the group. Goyle's glasses had arrived that morning by owl post, and he seemed to be doing better because of them. He could focus better on lessons, and outside of them he was reading the backs of his chocolate frog card collection. Surprisingly, Selwyn was being perfectly civil with all the Slytherins, but he had developed an annoying habit of taunting the Gryffindor first years whenever possible. That is when a teacher or prefect wasn't around, and he thought he could get away with it.

There was a lot of chatter in the common room amongst all seven years about the council positions, and who would be nominated for that weekend's election. It seemed obvious that Julian McKinniss would be the sixth-year representative since he had thought of the council in the first place. Several of the other forms were still debating their options, such as fifth year which had a few candidates vying for the position, including Charlotte Wilks. The first years were similarly divided, and a couple of people had approached Horatio about taking the spot. He had been flattered but had declined, stating that his relationship with the Head of House was a conflict of interest. In truth he had far too much on his plate to be adding more. Draco was considering putting his name forward and had even hinted to Ron and Horatio that he would appreciate their support, but Horatio had another candidate in mind. He would approach her about the prospect of serving on the council later in the week.

That afternoon Quirrell's lesson went much the same as the day before. Horatio took the potion prior to entering the classroom and sat through the lecture with Draco watching him like a hawk. He kept his gaze down on his notes and the assigned reading, and like yesterday his symptoms were much improved. Afterward Draco looked relieved, and even Terry Boot had come over to comment that he seemed much better. Horatio explained that his uncle had made a potion to combat his migraines. The Ravenclaw was intrigued and planned to ask the Potions Master about the cure during his next lesson.

That evening he attended the study club in the library as both Harry and Horatio. A few ideas for a new name for the group had been bandied about, but they decided to hold off on a vote until the Ravenclaws could attend. The Hufflepuffs spent much of the meeting peppering Ron—and others with flying experience—with questions. Justin Finch-Fletchly was particularly keen for advice because as a Muggle Born his only experience flying was in an airplane. That remark had raised questions from the Pure Blood and wizard raised Half-Bloods about how airplanes worked. Ron said that his father had always wanted to know the answer to that Muggle mystery.

Wednesday morning dawned bright and clear in Gryffindor tower. Most of his dormmates were enjoying the later start in lessons to have a lie in, or in the case of Dean Thomas practice playing chess against himself in the common room. Harry laid in bed but restlessly turned from side to side. He knew that if he got out of bed now, he would start pacing the floor until his meeting with Flitwick, and that wouldn't help anyone. Finally, he could take it no more and climbed out of bed to ready for the day, but he was so preoccupied that it took him a while to collect his things.

He came down to the common room to find a couple of his friends relaxing. Dean was still practicing with Harry's chessboard, and Hermione was curled in an armchair reading a book. "Good morning, Dean, Hermione," Harry waved as he approached the pair. They said together, "Good morning, Harry," and he asked, "Dean, want to play against an opponent?"

"Yeah sure," Dean began to reset the board. "I know you taught yourself how to play, but this isn't helping me."

Harry helped him return the pieces to starting position. "I guess some people just learn better with someone to play against."

"Good luck," Hermione said as they began to play, and settled deeper into her armchair as she returned to her book.

Ten minutes into the game Dean paused with his hand hovering over the bishop he was about to move. He glanced over at the assortment of Harry's pieces on his side of the board and frowned, "Harry are you going easy on me?" his brow furrowed as he looked up to meet Harry's gaze.

Harry blinked and surveyed the board. It was true that he hadn't been giving the game his full attention, but he hadn't thought he'd been playing that badly. He had just moved one of his remaining pieces into danger, and it was one that he could ill afford to lose. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and shook his head. "No, I'm just distracted, I'm sorry."

Dean took his hand away from the piece without moving it. "Do you want to stop the game? We can play some other time if you're not up to it."

"Thanks Dean," Harry sat back in his chair. "I shouldn't have offered to play while my mind is so clearly elsewhere."

"Nah it's cool." Dean brushed his apology aside in his typical easygoing manner. "We can play some other time. I think it would do me some good to play someone other than Shay, even if I end up losing."

Hermione peered over the top of her book, "Are you alright Harry?"

Harry shrugged as he glanced over at her, "I just have a lot on my mind this morning."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked marking her page and closing the book.

Harry opened his mouth and then glanced toward Dean who stood, "I'll see you two later." Harry gave him a grateful look as he departed.

He lowered his voice, "It's about the locket, I have a meeting with Professor Flitwick about it this morning."

Her brown eyes widened in understanding, "How are you feeling about that?" she asked gently.

"I'm…" Harry faltered as he tried to come up with an answer, but he couldn't put words to the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. Finally, he looked at her and said, "I don't know… On the one hand, I'm excited that it might be repaired… but I'm also dreading the moment we open it." His face contorted into a grimace, "I just have a bad feeling about it, you know?"

"I honestly can't say that I have anything to relate to like this." She looked down at her hands as she searched her memory, "except when I was small and used magic to mend an antique vase of my mother's that I'd broken while playing, but that seems trivial in comparison."

Harry nodded, he knew she meant well, but this was different. "The thing I'm most anxious about is the photograph, if that is what is inside." He lifted a hand to touch his temple, "because I don't have the memories that image is supposed to represent." He swallowed hard, trying to fight the prickling at the corners of his eyes, "I don't have any memories of what my parents look like, or any photos of them…"

Words failed him so he stopped trying to speak, the next thing he knew Hermione had flung herself from her seat and thrown her arms around him. This hug was unlike the other brief ones she had given him, expressing casual affection or happiness that he was not accustomed to—this hug was tight it felt like she was trying to take some of his pain into herself. His first reaction was to stiffen at the unfamiliar contact, until he began to relax and wrapped his arms tentatively around her in return. As he hugged her back, he realized it was easier to hold himself together, like she was helping him keep the tides of emotion at bay.

"You don't have to face it alone," she whispered before gently letting go, she pulled back enough to look into his eyes and said, "I don't have to go with you, but if you want me or Neville, or Theo to come we can. If you want to go on your own and tell one or all of us about it later, we'd be happy to listen or just sit with you. "Her gaze held sincerity and sympathy, not a trace of pity was to be found there. "Whatever will help you get through this."

"Thank you, Hermione," was all he could manage through the lump in his throat. A question ran around in his mind: what did I do to deserve such good friends? He mentally shook himself and said, "Thank you for the offer, but I think I'd like to go to this meeting on my own. Depending on what I find out, I may want your company afterward, and Neville and Theo too if they're willing."

"I'll ask them when they come down for breakfast." She promised as she returned to her own chair.

Harry blinked a few times to rid himself of the moisture in his eyes and glanced down at his watch. He said abruptly, "I should go." His voice was gruffer than he intended, and he glanced up to see if he'd hurt her feelings or something, but she only offered him a smile in return. He stood and crossed to the portrait hole, with some of the weight he'd been carrying lifted. After climbing down, he squared his shoulders and headed toward the Charms classroom.

Professor Flitwick was standing in the Charms corridor but in sight of the classroom. His wand was out, and he was waving it toward a suit of armor, which flexed and stretched at his command. The Charms Master frowned as the hulking figure's metal joints squealed in protest. "I'll have to inform Mr. Filch that this metal guardian needs to be oiled."

"Metal guardian?" Harry asked as he glanced at the suit of armor.

"These suits of armor were enchanted long ago by the founders, as a last line of defense if the walls were ever breached." Flitwick turned to Harry and said, "but a school history lesson is not why you sought me out." He gestured in the direction they needed to travel. "Shall we head to my office?"

"Yes sir," Harry said as he matched his stride to his professor's as they walked, "I am curious about the history of the school. I've never read the book on the subject, but I'm always happy to learn little tidbits as I go"

Flitwick chuckled, "Over a thousand pages is a lengthy read even for the curious mind." The wizard paused to disable one of the traps as they passed, "Bear in mind Mr. Potter, that not all of Hogwarts secrets have been revealed, much less committed to print by an outsider."

"I will sir." Harry said. As they ascended another staircase he asked, "Does anyone know all of Hogwarts secrets, does the headmaster?"

The older wizard made a thoughtful sound as he turned toward the west side of the castle. "I would say no, there are some secrets which the founders pass on to each successive head of house, and those remain the providence of that witch or wizard until their successor takes on the knowledge." He paused beside an unremarkable heavy oak door which he opened with a wave of his wand.

Harry stepped inside the office which was decorated in Ravenclaw blue and bronze. The room was lined with tall windows however hangings blocked the view beyond them. Interspersed between these were towering bookcases. One wall was dominated by a white marble fireplace carved in the shape of outstretched eagle's wings, atop which rested a bust of a woman wearing a crown of sorts. Beneath their feet was an ornate rug which depicted a massive oak tree with strange symbols worked into the image. This very earthy image seemed out of place with the graceful lines and curves, and eagle motifs he saw everywhere else in the room. Harry looked up from the rug to see that Professor Flitwick was patiently waiting for him to take in the room.

"I'm sorry professor." Harry said.

Flitwick waved away the apology, "There is no need to be sorry." He crossed toward the fireplace and sat in one of the two armchairs. "My father had a saying, you only truly see something, if you are looking at it for the first or last time. It is something I have found to be true in my own experience, so when time permits, I allow visitors to take their first look at my office in their own time."

Harry came to sit across from him. Now that he thought about it, he'd experienced the same thing. From seeing his Muggle primary school for the last time, to seeing Diagon Alley and Gringotts bank, to the sprawling grounds of Malfoy Manor, to his first glimpse of Hogwarts across the black lake. "I see what you mean," he said before glancing down at the rug. "Professor may I ask something?"

The older wizard guessed, "What do the symbols on the rug mean?" Harry nodded and he explained, "Brodlus, it is a goblin concept that symbolizes all balance in the world and in magic. Wizards like to think that they are the sole keepers of magic, but they are merely conduits to the power in and around them, and there are many beings who have access to that power." Flitwick snapped his fingers and a wheeled cart rolled toward them. "This decanter for example, will give whatever drink the pourer desires." He demonstrated and a ruddy hued liquid filled with bubbles was poured into a clear glass. "Ice cold raspberry soda." He took a long drink and made a satisfied sound, "Now you try, pour and you will receive the drink that will please you best at the moment."

Harry did so, and his own glass was warm to the touch, though he was surprised he could hold it at all judging by the steam that was rising from it. The scent of bergamot reached his nose, and he knew before drinking that it would taste like the tea, he'd shared with Professor McGonagall the other morning.

"That smells remarkably like Professor McGonagall's favored earl gray tea." Flitwick remarked as he sipped his own drink.

"Yes, I had tea with her the other day." Harry took a sip enjoying the perfect blend of milk, sugar, and tea which was at the temperature he preferred, he appreciated the smoky notes after tasting them a second time. Then he processed what his host had said and blinked in surprise, "You can smell that from here?"

Flitwick nodded, "Due to my goblin ancestry my senses are sharper than most." Placing his drink aside he folded his long-fingered hands and said, "Now, for the reason we have come here. Please feel free to enjoy your tea as I explain." He produced the locket which was wrapped in the handkerchief and placed it carefully on a small table which he'd conjured to hold it. "This locket was made by mundane means, and therefore holds no magic within it. Some protective spells may have been applied afterward, but they would lack the potency of those that could have been worked into the metal during creation." Unfolding the handkerchief he exposed the battered locket to the light, "If there were protective spells laid upon it, they were no match for some great violence it met which put it in this state."

There was a tightness around Harry's chest, and he cleared his throat before asking, "Does that mean you can't fix it?"

"It means that most methods I could try might do more harm than good," Flitwick held up a finger to forestall any interruption. "However, there is something I could try. If we knew when the damage happened the spell could be more effective."

Harry thought back to what McGonagall had said, that his mother had worn the locket every day. A shiver passed through him as the answer came to him. Harry took a sip of the tea to wet his throat which felt suddenly parched, "It must have been damaged the night she died…"

The Charms Master nodded gravely, "It means that the spell would be most potent on Halloween." Flitwick studied his student for a moment, "If you were present at her death, this may unlock memories of the event you were not aware you carried."

"How?" Harry asked bewildered, "Wouldn't I be too young?"

"For conscious memory yes," Flitwick explained, "but the magic that is within you will remember." He gestured toward the lightning shaped scar on Harry's forehead, "It is particularly likely because you were also attacked that night." He stroked his long thin beard, "Perhaps it would be best to leave things as they are… I would not wish to cause you further suffering, especially if the only reward is likely to be disappointment."

"No, I want to try, I have to try!" Harry said vehemently, and remembering his manners added, "Professor."

Flitwick saw the unwavering resolve of his student; it was evident in the set of his jaw and fire in his emerald eyes. He also knew that this was likely a reaction based on emotion, and that reason would be needed here. "You came to me for help, and I will do my best, but I want you to think carefully about this course of action. Consider the risks against what might be gained from going through with it. I will research the matter as best I can, but this is a rather unique situation, so there may not be anything known about what will happen. You could also speak to your relatives, or anyone else you trust to advise you. We can discuss the matter again as the date draws closer."

"So, if I still want to do it, you'll cast the spell Professor?" Harry asked.

"I will," Flitwick sighed heavily, "if I have found no evidence that you will be harmed by doing so." He gestured to the locket, "In the meantime would you like the locket back, or do you want me to hold onto it for you?"

"I'll have it back, sir." Harry reached for the locket and tucked it carefully into his robes. A chime sounded in the room making them both look up.

Flitwick cast a Tempus charm, "It seems it is time for morning break, afterward we are both expected for your Charms lesson, which I will excuse you from this once should you need time to sort through your feelings and thoughts." He finished his drink before adding, "but I will expect an essay from you demonstrating you understand the material we will be discussing in class. Reading Chapter 4 of The Standard Book of Spells and Chapter 3 of Magical Theory will give you the necessary information."

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick, that is very generous of you sir." Harry knocked back the rest of his tea before rising. He had almost reached the door when a thought occurred to him, "you said that I should speak to the people I trust about this to advise me. Could Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Theo Nott also be excused?"

Flitwick sucked air between his teeth as he considered, before finally nodding and saying, "They will also be expected to write the essay I assigned to you."

"I'll tell them sir." Harry said as he exited the office.

When the door closed Filius sighed and said, "You're welcome Mr. Potter, I only hope they can convince you to abandon this endeavor."

When Harry returned to the common room he found Hermione, Neville, and Theo waiting for him. Hermione had even brought him a napkin with a stack of toast. He sat down and tucked into the food. Harry hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started to eat, and half the stack was gone before he spoke. "Hermione did you tell them what this was about?"

She nodded, "I told them you had something that belonged to your Mum, and that you were meeting with Professor Flitwick because he might be able to mend it."

He brushed crumbs onto the napkin, "Flitwick says there is something he could try, but it would be most effective if he cast the spell at the time the damage happened." He pulled out the locket and held it out for the boys to see. "I've learned that my Mum wore this every day, so it was likely damaged the day she… she died." He placed it on the low table between them.

Theo quickly calculated in his head, "So you have a little less than two months to wait."

"Does everyone know the date my parents died?" Harry asked in annoyance.

"I think so," Neville explained, "Some people celebrate it as the downfall of You-Know-Who, and there was talk of making it a national holiday for the magical community."

Theo nodded, "Some people even visit the place where it happened, to honor your parents' sacrifice and your survival." He shrugged before adding, "and of course the Dark Lord's defeat."

Harry stared at the three of them; it unnerved him more than a little that everyone seemed to know more about his parents' death than he did. His godfather had told him what he knew, but even parts of it were unknown to Uncle Severus. Harry shook his head, "Does anyone else find it odd that complete strangers visit the site of my parents' murders like it's some sort of tourist attraction?"

"I understand why you feel that way," Hermione said soothingly. She glanced at Neville and Theo before saying, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't it be more like visiting a war memorial, or the sight of a great battle?" To Harry she said, "It was the last battle of a war for the Wizarding community, so for most people it is a key historical event."

Neville added, "It's not very comforting, but at least it explains why they do it. Trust me, I have personal experience with this sort of thing."

Harry looked up sharply and asked, "What do you mean?"

Neville swallowed but met Harry's gaze, "A year after You-Know-Who disappeared, a group of his supporters—they call themselves Death Eaters—tortured my parents for information about his whereabouts. So, when people learn my name is Longbottom, I get looks of pity or sympathy, and people tell me they're sorry for my situation, or that my parents were brave, and what happened to them was tragic…"

The question burst from Harry's lips before he could stop it, "So they… died?"

"No!" Neville said sharply, "Their minds were addled, and they've been in St. Mungo's ever since, there's a special ward for long-term cases." He averted his face so he couldn't see the looks of horror in his friends' eyes, "Gran takes me to visit them on holidays, but they don't know who I am."

Hermione had her hands over her mouth, and Theo was looking at the floor. Harry felt that Neville's situation was far worse than his own—to have your parents living but unable to care for you, to recognize you—was unimaginable torture. The bell chose that most inopportune moment to ring, signaling the end of break.

"We're supposed to go to Charms," Hermione said weakly.

Harry spoke up, "Professor Flitwick excused the four of us from today's lesson. He just asked that we all write essays proving we've learned the material. I'll give you guys the reading he assigned later."

Neville turned back to face them, "I told you all that Harry because I want you to understand that you're not the only one whose painful childhood history is on display for everyone to see, and there are other people besides us who are in the same situation."

Theo's hands were balled into fists in his lap, "And some people have family who followed the Dark Lord, who did his bidding… I get looks too, but they're ones of suspicion, and sometimes outright hatred."

"You don't deserve that." Neville said at once, "You were a baby or not even born when he was at the height of his power."

Hermione, who was the only one not directly affected by the war, tried to gently nudge the conversation back on track. "Harry does Professor Flitwick think he'll be able to repair the locket, and maybe open it?"

"He thinks there's a chance…" Harry hesitated before adding, "but he's concerned about what affect it might have on me."

Neville stared at the locket and asked, "Because the picture or whatever is inside is probably damaged?"

"There's more to it than that." Harry admitted, "he thinks there's a chance it could dredge up some memories of that night." He placed a hand over his heart, "That my magic remembers even if my conscious mind doesn't."

Theo said thoughtfully, "And he's worried you won't be able to handle the memories, that they might harm you in some way?" Harry nodded and Theo studied him for a moment, "but you want to go through with it anyway?"

"Yes," Harry said almost defiantly.

"But you might be hurt," Hermione said with tears in her eyes, "and whatever is in the locket might be ruined, so what would you gain from it?"

"Well apart from knowing one way or the other about the picture, I would know more than I do now about that night." Harry sat forward, looking each of his friends in the eye. "On the way back from his office I thought about it, and if the memories come, I'll deal with them, and if not, I can at least say I tried." He reached out to lightly touch Hermione's hand, "I know you worry about me; you all try to look out for me, but I think I have to do this." He watched as they all came to terms with his decision and nodded in understanding or acceptance of his decision. Harry took a breath before asking, "Will you all be there when Professor Flitwick tries the spell? I don't need an answer now, you should all have the chance to think about it."

Hermione huffed, "I told you I'd be there to help you through whatever came from this." She gestured toward the locket. "If you're going through with it, I will be there."

Neville nodded firmly, "You deserve answers about what happened that night, and if this is the way you want to find them, then I support you and I'll be there."

Theo shook his head with a bemused expression, "I still don't quite understand why you'd want me there, but I will be there."

The look was so reminiscent of one Draco would have in this situation that Harry realized his task was far from over, because now he would have to convince Draco that this was necessary and to keep it from their godfather. Then there was the question of how to convince the others that Draco should be there too. There was no way that Draco would sit this one out, and as much as he tried to keep his two lives separate, he had a feeling one way or another they would be on a crash course on Halloween.

As the Slytherins left Transfiguration Draco pulled Horatio aside. Ron was engrossed in a conversation with Crabb and Goyle about a new series of Chocolate Frog cards that were going to be released next year and didn't notice them depart. Draco took Horatio to the trophy room as he had before, after pulling his friend inside he closed both sets of doors before rounding on the other boy.

"Why weren't you in Charms?"

Keeping up pretenses, Horatio raised his eyebrows, "I was sitting next to you in lessons all day today…"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Draco lowered his voice. "Where were Potter, Theo, Longbottom, and Granger? Why weren't they in Charms?"

Horatio sighed, he was not prepared for this conversation, but alas it was upon him. "Flitwick excused them from class today, because he and Potter had a meeting this morning, and he asked that the other three be excused from the lesson as well." Glancing around to make doubly sure they were alone he added, "Potter has something that belonged to his mother, something that he has asked Flitwick to mend. I was going to tell you about it—"

"When?" Draco asked, folding his arms across his chest. "After Flitwick tried to fix it?"

Horatio shook his head, "No, I was going to tell you today, probably after lessons. I just don't want Uncle Sev to know about it, because I think it would make him really sad."

Draco dropped his defensive posture and ran a hand through his sleek blond hair. "You can tell me more about it later, I was just worried about you."

Horatio leant against the wall beside Draco, and bumped his friend's shoulder with his own, "If you were feeling left out, don't think like that. You're my best friend Draco, like a brother to me. I promise, I won't keep anything from you longer than I must for appearances."

Draco's lips turned up in a small smile, "Thanks brother." He glanced around the trophy room, "We need to find a better place for these conversations…"

"Agreed," Horatio said fervently, "Now let's go have lunch, I want to officially nominate someone for the Slytherin House Council."

Draco pouted as they exited the trophy room, "And I take it, that person isn't me?"

"Sorry Draco, but I think someone else is a bit better at being impartial."

"Who?" Draco asked indignantly.

"Millicent, think about how she handled the discussion after the potions accident."

Draco cocked his head to the side in thought, "Fair point." He shrugged off the mild disappointment, "I'd rather have her on the council than Pansy."

Horatio stopped dead, "Is she really considering running?" He had noticed that she had started to follow whatever Selwyn did or said and had no idea why.

"Yeah," Draco rolled his eyes. "I overheard her trying to get Adamaris and Harriet to support her, but I think that ship sailed the night of the Sorting Feast."

"Why do you say that?" Horatio asked as they descended to the entrance hall.

Draco shrugged, "I have no idea, girls' friendships are complicated." Horatio thought about his experiences with the girls in his year, and he had to admit that Draco had a point.

Thursday morning started with Harry since Horatio would have DADA later that afternoon. So, Harry found himself crossing the lawn with his fellow Gryffindors toward a flattened area of grass, for the first flying lesson. He could see that the Slytherins were already there, and two lines of broomsticks were laid out on the ground. As they walked Neville was showing them something his Gran had sent him, it was a little glass ball the size of a large marble, filled with white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall," Neville explained, "Gran knows I forget things, so she sent it to me." He closed his hand around the glass sphere, "You squeeze it like this, and if it turns red—" he opened his hand to reveal the smoke had turned scarlet, "—you've forgotten… something." His brow furrowed as he tried to remember what he'd forgotten. They had reached the Slytherins at this point, and Ron came over to say hello. Neville distractedly repeated his explanation ending on, "The only trouble is, that I can't seem to remember what I've forgotten…" Ron patted him on the shoulder consolingly.

Suddenly the Remembrall was snatched from Neville's loose grip. They turned to see Selwyn examining it. "What a useless thing…" he drawled as he tossed it casually in the air.

Ron's ears turned red, and he demanded, "Give it back, Selwyn." Crabbe and Goyle were hanging back, unsure if they should get involved in the conflict. Pansy was smirking as she watched the scene unfold. Draco and Horatio were close by, ready to jump to Ron's aid if need be.

"What's going on over there?" boomed a voice from across the grounds. The flying instructor was striding across the grass towards them, carrying a broom over her shoulder. She stopped beside the two groups of students.

Neville explained, "Selwyn has my Remembrall, professor."

"I was just looking," Selwyn dropped the ball back into Neville's hand and retreated toward the other Slytherins. Ron followed suit, though he kept well away from the instigator, stopping instead beside Horatio and Draco.

"Call me Madame Hooch," The instructor said, she had short iron -gray hair, and hawk-like yellow eyes that surveyed her students with keen-eyed intensity. Placing her broom on the ground beside her, she pulled a roll of parchment from her robes, and called each of their names. When that task was done, she said, "I want each of you to step up to the right side of your broom, hold your hand above it and say 'Up!'. With luck they should jump into your hand, and hover at the correct height for you to mount."

On the Slytherin side, Horatio raised his hand, "Excuse me, Madame Hooch?"

"Yes?" She asked briskly.

"Should people who are left-hand dominant stand so their left hand is over the broom, or should we all stand with our right hands over our brooms?"

"Good question, Mr. Prince." She waved her arm, making the brooms spread out a bit more. "Anyone who is lefthanded stand to the right of your broom, those who are right-handed stand to the left." She walked up the line of brooms making sure that everyone was evenly spaced, "and five points to Slytherin to Mr. Prince for pointing that out."

Harry noticed that Lavender also stood to the right of her broom, meaning that she too was left-handed. As the students all started calling "Up!" a few of the brooms jumped into their waiting hands, but others remained still, or simply rolled over in the grass. Neville's and Hermione's seemed especially uncooperative, and he wondered if brooms like wands were aware, and they could sense a person's fear or uncertainty. Finally, all the brooms were hovering at about waist height and vibrating slightly.

Harry noticed that they all looked a little beat up, a few had twigs pointing in odd directions, or scrapes and scratches along the handle. He looked over at Seamus and asked, "Is this how broomsticks should look?"

Seamus squinted his blue-green eyes, "Yes and no, they're rather old, and some of them look a might jumpy to me."

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Finnigan, are you paying attention?" Madame Hooch barked.

"Sorry Professor," Harry said, turning his focus back to the front of the line, where she was demonstrating how to properly mount a broomstick.

Madame Hooch made it look easy, but several people struggled with this too. The task was made so much harder by the fact that they were all wearing flowing wizard's robes. Harry thought it would have been better if they were allowed to wear jeans or trousers for the lesson. Once they were all mounted, Madame Hooch went around checking each of their grip on the broom handle. She spent a few moments berating Seamus, who had apparently been doing it wrong for years. Harry and Dean exchanged a long-suffering glance, they knew Seamus would be complaining about this for a couple days at least.

Madame Hooch held up a silver whistle that she wore around her neck. "On the count of three, I'm going to blow this whistle, and I want you all to kick off from the ground, hover for a moment, and touch back down by pushing the broom handle down slightly." She held up a hand and counted on her fingers as she spoke, "One… Two…"

Whether out of nerves, or fear of being left on the ground, Neville kicked off before the whistle touched Madam Hooch's lips. He rose shakily into the air, jerking upward a few feet. His eyes were wide, his knuckles white where he gripped the broom. Madame Hooch told him to, "Get back to the ground!" Startled by her shout he yanked the handle up instead of down, and the broom began to rise higher, still shaking and jerking as it went. What made matters worse was that it had started to drift sideways away from the flat area of ground where the others were assembled.

"All of you, stay where you are," She ordered the other students and quickly mounted her broom to pursue Neville's wayward one. "Whatever you do, don't look down boy!" She rose to meet him, or tried to, but the broom was moving so erratically that she had to keep her distance. "Come now, bring the handle down slightly so you start to descend."

Neville overcorrected and started to plummet the twenty feet to the ground, but he lost his grip and slipped off the end of the handle. Several people screamed as he dropped like a stone and hit the ground with a bone jarring thud, a nasty crack cut the morning air. The riderless broomstick drove straight into the ground nearby, the handle splintering as it hit the earth. Madame Hooch landed close by Neville; her face was paper white as she knelt over the fallen boy. He was whimpering in pain as she examined him.

"Broken wrist," she muttered easing him into a sitting position. "There now, it's alright, up you get. Madame Pomfrey will be able to patch you up." She helped Neville to his feet, and addressed the rest of the class, "None of you is to move, while I take this boy up to the hospital wing. Anyone who goes near those broomsticks will be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch." Tears-streaked Neville's face as he hobbled off with Madame Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Selwyn started laughing, "Did you see his face? The great lump!" The other Slytherins weren't joining in on the joke, in fact most had stepped back as if to distance themselves from him.

"Shut up Selwyn!" said Parvati Patil.

"Sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy's eyes glittered as she asked in a mocking tone, "I never thought you'd go for fat little crybabies, Parvati."

The Indian girl's cheeks flushed, but she didn't back down. Pointing to the broomstick at Pansy's feet she said, "I'd like to see you try it, fall twenty feet, break your wrist, and not cry."

"Look!" Selwyn exclaimed, distracting the two young witches from their brewing argument. He darted forward and snatched something from the grass. "It's that stupid thing, Longbottom's Gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sunlight as he held it up.

"Give that here Selwyn." Theo stepped forward calmly, holding out his hand.

"I think Nott," Selwyn sneered at Theo, holding the Remembrall out of reach. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw that Horatio was restraining Draco from coming over.

Harry had enough with this spoiled brat causing problems for all his friends. He stepped up beside Theo and demanded, "He said give it here, now Selwyn." Everyone else stopped bickering to watch.

"Yes Potter, come to the rescue, why don't you?" Selwyn took a couple steps back, still taunting Harry as he went, "The-Boy-Who-Saved or whatever it is." He stooped to pick up one of the broomsticks and mounted it quickly. As he began to hover, he said, "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find, say up a tree?"

A broomstick was in Harry's hand before he could think better of it. He slung his leg over the broom handle and prepared to kick off, but a hand pushed the broom down a bit. He looked over and met Isobel MacDougal's steely gaze, "Keep your head, Potter. I know Selwyn's a numpby ballbag, but you heard Madame Hooch, anyone who touches these brooms without her here will be expelled."

Selwyn was level with the topmost branches of an oak, he called down to the ground, "Come and get it Potter."

Isobel tried to reason with Harry, "Let him do his dinger, it's not worth it."

But Harry was beyond reason, blood was pounding in his ears. "Let, go, Isobel." Harry demanded, but she didn't budge. Theo came over and pulled her hand from the broom. She turned to argue at his interference, and Harry kicked off from the ground hard.

Wind whistled in his ears as he rose smoothly from the ground, blowing his hair away from his face. This was his first time on a broom since the couple flights he'd done over the summer, but it all came back to him like he'd been doing it every day. He turned the broom sharply to face Selwyn making a few of the girls on the ground cry out in surprise or worry. There was an admiring whoop from perhaps Ron or Theo. He shot toward Selwyn—who looked absolutely stunned-still hovering beside the tree.

"Give it here Selwyn, or I'll knock you off that broom." Harry shouted; he was so fed up with Selwyn's antics that he might just do it.

"Oh yeah…" Selwyn tried to sneer, but Harry could hear the slight tremor in his voice.

Harry leant forward along the broom handle, and it shot toward Selwyn like a javelin, who only just got out of the way in time. There were more screams and gasps from people on the ground, but Harry paid them no mind as he made a quick about face to keep his adversary in his sights. "I don't see Crabb or Goyle backing you up this time, what did they figure out you're a spoiled prat too and drop you?"

Harry had touched a nerve, Selwyn's eyes narrowed, "My friends are none of your business Potter."

"Then leave my friends alone." Harry shouted back, "specifically Hermione, Ron, Theo, and Neville."

The last word seemed to remind the other boy why they were up there in the first place. Selwyn held up the Remembrall. "You still want this, Potter? Then go and get it." He threw the glass orb as far as he could in one direction and headed down toward the ground.

Harry watched as if in slow motion, as the Remembrall rose into the air, and seemed to hang at the apex of its flight, before curving back toward the earth. Somehow, he knew what to do, he kicked the broom forward, leaning forward on the handle once more. The broom shot through the air as he raced the ball toward the ground, lifting one hand from the handle to grab it out of the air. Then he pulled up to slow his descent and toppled safely onto the grass, with the Remembrall clutched securely in his hand.

"Harry Potter!" The sharp tones of McGonagall's voice called Harry back to reality. He looked up from his prize to see her running toward him. Her face was as white as Madam Hooch's had been, though he couldn't tell whether hers was from fear or anger. He stumbled to his feet as his classmates converged on him. McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, "Never in all my time at Hogwarts, you could have broken your neck!"

"He had to do it, professor—"

"Be quiet Mr. Nott."

"But Selwyn started—"

"That's enough Mr. Weasley." McGonagall's glasses flashed in the sunlight as she gazed around, her eyes taking in Neville's smashed broomstick, and the other untouched brooms in two lines. "Where is Madam Hooch? You had no business being on that broom without her present."

"That's what we've been saying, professor." Parvati spoke up, "There was an accident, and Madame Hooch had to take Neville to the hospital wing."

"Verry well, but she must have told you all to stay put, particularly to stay on the ground." McGonagall turned to Harry, "I would have thought that you of all people would be more responsible than this. If you had crashed anything could have happened."

Harry's insides turned to lead as he realized what she was getting at. The time turner was in the mokeskin pouch, which was currently hung around his neck. He had forgotten that fact in his anger at Selwyn, and if he had smashed the fragile hourglass, a broken neck would have been the least of his troubles. Any protest he was about to make died on his lips. Seeing the dawning comprehension on his face, she turned her attention back to the rest of the class.

"All of you—go back to your dormitories, to the library, wherever you like—but get away from these broomsticks. This flying lesson is over." She held out a hand to beckon Harry forward, "Mr. Potter, come with me, now." She turned on her heel expecting him to follow, which he did without protest. When she crossed the entrance hall and began to descend to the dungeons, his heart sank faster than he had dived. She was taking him to see his godfather, there was no other reason for them to be down there…

A/N: It does seem like Harry's two lives are about to cross paths, more than their daily intersections. And don't worry, McGonagall saw that Selwyn's broom was out of place as well, but she needs to have a little chat with Harry and Severus first, before she addresses his rule breaking. She might even leave it to Severus to deal with his own. Will this lead to Harry joining the Quidditch team, or even the possibility of first years on the house teams? I guess I'll have to write that for us to find out. I do know one thing, Selwyn embarrassed his house today in front of their biggest rival, so he is going to have to answer for his actions.

Disclaimer: You should know this isn't mine by now. I'm just playing in J.K. Rowling's sandbox and building a different sandcastle.