Chapter 3
From the morning Harry woke up on the second of September, to the brief tet-a-tet outside the potions class that following morning, everything was at the stage of equilibrium. There were, naturally, whispers that followed him down the corridors as he explored the castle, Draco in toe.
Harry skipped over the vanishing step that lead down to the dungeons, taking care land on both feet at the bottom of the stair case. Outside the potions class, a line of Slytherins and Gryffindors waited for the legendary professor Snape to usher them inside. Ron Weasley pulled Harry aside.
"What would your parent's think, with you being in Slytherin and all?" he had asked.
"They would have been proud of me," said Harry, with no trace of uncertainty in his voice.
"But in Slytherin?" Ron asked uncertainly.
"Yeah," said Harry. "Slytherin would have gained an excellent student, wouldn't it?"
Their dialogue was cut short by Professor Snape dramatically throwing open the door that lead into his dark classroom.
"Enter," said Snape silkily.
Harry, to Draco's consternation, took a seat next to Neville Longbottom. They ignored the Gryffindor's venomous stare, directed at Neville that screamed "traitor, in favor of gazing at Snape, who was marking off names on the register.
Harry's status as a celebrity, in Snape's eyes, was quashed by the fact that he was in Slytherin. Snape chose to remain neutral on the subject of Harry Potter. This, however, was not the case for one Neville Longbottom.
Neville, Snape knew, would be a walking disaster in the potions class, so it was best to abuse the boy into a meek state of submission.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class," said Snape.
Harry tuned the rest of Snape's silky speech in favor of glaring at Dean Thomas, who was tapping his foot rather noisily.
Flamel had tutored Harry on the basics of potions up to second year level, so Harry could afford to tune out the speech on safety measures and snarky remarks on the students' lack of intelligence.
Other than Snape, the rest of the professors were okay. McGonagall was stern, Flitwick was cheerful and knowledgeable when it came to his subject, Quirrel was a stuttering mess and sprout was fair. Neville, who seemed to do really bad in potions, seemed to take a liking to herbology. When one of the Gryffindors had brought this up, Neville had explained that from an early age, his Gran had taught him how to care for plants. This was, apparently because of his late-blooming magical ability. Augusta had thought him a squib, so she had taken it upon herself, in a fit of senile intelligence, to force Neville to learn about the care of flora. Harry had wondered, though, why Neville hadn't tried potions or cared for magical creatures and such. Then, he realized that you needed a wand to get some of the potions going.
OOOOO
Harry had thought the title of brave was a trait that only Gryffindors possessed. Harry was proven otherwise when Daphne Greengrass, a first-year, punched Lily Moon, also a first-year Slytherin in the eye. At the time, Harry had been draped over an armchair in a light dose, when the commotion had awoke him. When he had asked about it, they had told him that Moon had called Greengrass' friend, Tracy, an insensitive bitch.
Harry had rolled over and told them to shut up. This, in turn, caused Tracy to blow up at him. Fearing a sudden rush of temper and not wanting to lose face in front of the entire common room, Harry picked Lily up in his arms and, trying to burn his temper out, sprinted up a few flights of stairs to take Lily to the hospital wing.
Harry sat on a bed opposite Lily and gazed at her. She was a halfblood Slytherin, like him, with long, blonde hair that fell to skinny shoulders. He looked into her blue eyes as he began his reprimand.
"You know," he began, "That wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do."
"I was joking!" she protested.
"I know, but Davis and Greengrass don't know that, do they?"
"Spose not," she mumbled.
"Then, I suggest you should clear the air between you."
After Lily had returned, with Harry in toe, to the common room with a clean bill of health, she had apologized to Daphne and Tracy, and had explained the situation. The fact that Harry had reunited the trio of girls had endeared him to them. Thus, a tentative friendship had sprung up between them.
In all this, Draco was never forgotten. Harry and Draco Had become firm friends with conditions. Draco was not to bother Harry, when he bitched about the use of dark magic, and Harry was not to bitch at Draco for calling Granger a mudblood. Their differences were set aside, if temporarily, for a budding friendship. Draco's offer of alliance had now changed to his hand extending in a solemn offer of friendship, which Harry gladly clung to.
A tentative friendship between Neville and Draco had also started to bloom, after they were forced to be in each other's presence, as a consequence of hanging out with Harry. This, however, was kept under wraps, lest they, Neville and Draco, were scorned by their respective houses. Harry was left alone, due to the fact that they were all distracted from his friendships by the fact that he, the-Boy-Who-Lived, was in Slytherin. The children of Dumbledore's allies didn't seem too happy with Harry's sorting, though.
OOOOO
On the sixth of September, Harry took a stroll to the owlery to send Flamel a letter. In his letter, he explained his status as a Slytherin and went on to say, in a mass of scribbles and inkblots, how he was enjoying himself and making new friends. Nicolas, Harry knew, would be pleased at this latest development.
He let Hedwig perch on his arm for a wile, enjoying the softness of her feathers as he stroked her plumage.
"Travel safely, Hedwig," he whispered to his owl.
She hooted at him indignantly, and ruffled her feathers. Chuckling, Harry reared his right arm back and flung Hedwig out the open window, where she fell through the air, only expanding her white-speckled wings a few feet off the ground.
When Harry got back to the common room, he observed Draco in conversation with Pansy, Nott, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle. Leaving Draco to it, he chose to join Daphne, Tracy and Lily.
"Where have you been?" asked Daphne in her usual tone, devoid of emotion.
"At the owlery, mum! Honest!"
Tracy shifted over and patted the spot between her and Daphne. Gratefully, Harry took his seat and smirked at Tracy, who appeared to be doing her homework.
"Finished your homework, then?" asked Daphne, apparently catching Harry's gaze.
"Yep! Last night, already."
"Lucky you," muttered Tracy under her breath.
"Lazy little bint," said Daphne under her breath, so only Harry could hear.
"Same here," chimed in Lily. "That potions essay was a pain, though."
"Agreed!" they all said in unison.
OOOOO
Harry put down his knife and fork, feeling his stomach clench in fearful anticipation. Today was their first flying lesson on a broom.
"Never doubt yourself up there," said Draco, "as that will be your undoing."
"Pretty wise words from a child like you," said Flint heartily.
Crabbe and Goyle snickered and Harry glared at them.
"Thanks, Draco," mumbled Harry. "But I won't doubt myself. Shit myself, sure. But doubt? Never!"
"That's the spirit, Potter," laughed Flint, clapping Harry on the back.
"Right," said madam Hooch. "On three, I want you all to say up!"
"Up!" they all shouted in unison, after Hooch's countdown.
The broom smacked into Harry's palm and he could feel it vibrate and tingle expectantly. Grinning, he looked over at Draco, who grinned back, broom in hand.
"Now," said Hooch. "On three, take off slowly... After mounting your brooms, of course. If you rise before I blow my whistle, it'll be more than the chains restraining my temper that shatter. Got it?"
They all nodded and Hooch began her countdown.
On two, Neville, in a sudden fit of panic, shot off the ground. He was skimming the trees with in five seconds, leaving leaves to drift to the ground in his wake. Neville let go of his broom and his descent began with a scream, and ended with a thwack and a sickening crack, which signaled the cracking of his radius. Harry, who had broken his fair share of bones, winced in sympathy. After warning them about the severe consequences of flying without Hooch's monitoring, she levitated Neville towards the hospital wing.
"Look!" crowed Draco. "Longbottom's rememberall!"
"Here we go," muttered Harry under his breath.
"Give it here, Draco," said Harry.
"Na, Harry. I'll race you for it."
Harry, who had never flown in his life, said," You're on, mate."
Draco proved his skill in flying by reaching the treetops within three seconds. Harry, with one leg thrown over his broom, kicked off and molded himself to the broom. He shot into the air like a bullet, and was soon on Draco's tale. Catching up to him, Harry cornered him against a particularly high branch.
Draco, who hated being beaten above all other things, said: "Catch, Harry!"
He lobbed the ball high in the air. It stopped at the apex of its flight, before plunging at a rapid rate toward the earth.
Harry turned his broom and began his dive after the glittering glass orb. It was a foot off the ground and still descending. Harry let go of his broom with his right hand and stretched, his body tilting to the right slightly. He got a hand under the sphere, and a moment later, it wacked into his palm, numbing his hand.
Just realizing how close to the ground he actually was, Harry sat straight, then leaned back, tucking his legs under him. His descent leveled off and his broom came to a halt, just before it could impale Professor McGonagall.
Harry swaggered into the great hall and took his seat next to Draco at the Slytherin table. Harry had been given an ultimatum. Either he would play for the Slytherin quidditch team, or he would serve detention for the rest of the year. Naturally, he elected for the former option, much to Flint's pleasure.
"McGonagall said that she had never seen anything like that, in all her years," Harry related to Draco.
"Nice one, Harry."
"Yeah. Having McGonagall say that was one thing. Dumbledore, however was another!"
Draco laughed. "I bet," he said, through a mouthful of bangers and mashed potato.
OOOOO
Harry sat astride his new broom, the Nimbus 2000. Snape had told Harry to request a new broom from Flamel, who was a bit apprehensive about letting Harry play. He dove and wove through a hail of conjured balls, being lobbed by flint. So far, Harry had caught every one. Two beaters behind him, instead of using bludgeors, resorted to shooting stinging hexes. Harry had felt one graze his flank, just as he executed a particularly difficult maneuver to catch a ball.
Harry turned as the whoosh of conjured balls sounded behind him. Diving under the beaters to avoid their hexes, he couldn't help but smirk as they hit each other, causing a fight to begin. Harry turned, despite himself, to watch the flash of wands as they clashed in midair. Flint was vulgar in his rage, bellowing insults and threats at the top of his lungs if they didn't cease their petty squabbles.
OOOOO
"Potter is quite something, isn't he?" said the one.
"Indeed he is," said the other.
Fred and George were hiding out in the Gryffindor quiddich changing rooms.
"His skills as a seeker!" exclaimed Fred.
"His reflexes!" cried George.
Then in unison, they said: "Bloody amazing!"
"Pass me the omni's," said Fred.
George handed them over, and Fred rested the omnioculars against the windowsill of a particularly high-set window.
"He's good at evading," said Fred.
"And good at catching," said George.
"Despite the obvious,"
"I think it'll be best if we show these recordings to Wood, don't you think?"
"Sure, but just make sure that he doesn't grass us up to Frobisher for nicking her omni's."
"Agreed, oh brother of mine."
Fred slung an arm around his brother's shoulders as he watched Potter dismount from his broom and walk out of sight.
"What to do..." mumbled Fred.
"What to do..." echoed George.
"Well, do you think we have a chance to sabotage the upcoming match?"
"A chance?" said George. "No, I don't think so."
"You don't think so?" asked Fred, scandalized. "And why's that, brother?"
"Because, oh brother of mine, oh precious twinnie, the Potter in question is standing right behind me, with a wand pressed to the back of my neck.
"You really are dumb little shits, aren't you?" asked Harry, amused.
"What makes you say that?" asked Fred, puzzled.
"I saw the sunlight reflect of the eyepieces of your omnioculars."
Fred and George adopted identical expressions of sheepishness.
"Cool it, guys," said Harry. "I'm just screwing with you."
He lowered his wand, much to the relief of Fred and George.
"Just wanted to see if I would be scary."
"Well you were scary, Harry," said Fred.
"Very scary," agreed George.
"You guys are nutters, aren't you?"
"Of course we are!" said Fred.
"Nutters, that is.
OOOOO
Lucius sipped cognac out of a wineglass and fixed the men and women around the table with a calculating glare.
"My son, Draco," he began, his voice as smooth as a pair of ironed slacks, "Has become allies with Harry Potter."
"Where was Potter?" asked Yaxley. "All these years, I mean?"
"Apparently," said Lucius, "he has been living under the protection of Flamel manner, all this time."
Theatrical gasps of shock met his statement, and Lucius glared at them.
"We will not move against Potter for now!" he shouted. "Potter is too well-guarded, and any harm done to the boy on our part, will be the last thing some of you do. And to be honest, loathed as I am to admit it, we cannot afford the loss of even one of you."
Lucius took another sip, draining his glass. Inclining a crystal decanter, he proceeded to pour more cognac into his wineglass.
"So, here's what we will do. None of us have a personal vendetta against Potter, so we'll leave him be for now, till there is a sign that the Dark Lord is alive."
OOOOO
"And that's it," finished Marsha Stebbins, Flamel's spy in the inner circle of Lucius' allies.
Flamel had chosen to remain neutral, but ever since he had taken Harry in, he had shouldered the responsibility of looking out for him. His attachment to the boy had made the decision to utilize Marsha against her former allies for him.
Ten years ago, Flamel had saved the life of her father, which had indebted Marsha, his sole remaining family member, to him.
"So, Harry is friends with the Draco Malfoy, eh?"
"About that..." began Marsha. "What do you intend to do about their friendship?"
"Absolutely nothing," answered Flamel honestly."
"Don't you think Draco Malfoy will corrupt Harry, turn him away from the light?"
"I think, at the end of the day, Harry will fight for what he believes is right."