The fire crackled merrily in Hagrid's fireplace as Harry, Ron, and Hagrid enjoyed a cup of tea and a friendly conversation. Hagrid enjoyed calling Filch "that old git", and it made the two students grin.

"Hagrid, I've been having some trouble with Snape in Potions class." Harry said tentatively. Hagrid pursed his lips.

"Why would yeh think that?" he said.

"Well, he really seems to hate me. He gave me detention, after our first lesson, just because I was in the classroom when another Gryffindor made a mistake," Harry complained. "I mean, how was I supposed to know it was our job to correct other students?" Hagrid shook his head.

"Harry, yeh got to understand. Professor Snape…"

"…is evil!" Harry cut him off quickly. Ron nodded in agreement, not saying anything because of his sore tooth from one of Hagrid's rock cakes. "He experimented on me with his students' failed potions!" Hagrid waved his hand dismissively.

"Snape wouldn't do that, Harry. He's got enough brains to figure out what they did wrong just by lookin' at the potions." Harry's mouth dropped open. Snape had tested them on him intentionally. Hagrid frowned. "Yeh alright, Harry?" Harry nodded.

"I have to go." He jerked his head for Ron to follow, and they left, Ron caressing his sore jaw.

"Ah fink mah toof iv a lil bit chipped," Ron was saying, but Harry didn't listen. He furiously stormed back into the castle and into the Gryffindor common room. Ron was gone; he had been struck by the urge to visit the hospital wing.

Harry fumed silently in the common room, but then realized he had a wand. He took it out and began to take his frustration out on the fireplace. Of course, he could only cast little red sparks into the fire, but it still felt good to have more than the silent treatment as a vent. Harry imagined each little coal as a sneering Snape face. It was more fun that way.

Suddenly, Ron burst in. "Harry! Flying lessons on Thursday!" Harry's spirits soared.

"Flying? On a broom?"

"Of course, what else would you fly on?!" Ron practically shouted. The two immediately delved into thick books on Quidditch, and Harry familiarized himself with the sport. There was a big ball called the Quaffle that Chasers flew around and two small but hard Bludgers that Beaters hit at other players and a small small one called the Golden Snitch that the Seeker caught and earned 150 points for and oh my goodness this game sounded FABULOUS!

Harry daydreamed every day until flying lessons. If only first years could be on the team. Harry's eyes misted over, and it took him a couple shakes from Ron to wake up enough to register that his friend was reminding him flying lessons started in five minutes. The two ran down to the grounds, and Madam Hooch welcomed them to flying lessons.

Just a moment later, and Harry was ecstatically holding his broom; he had been one of the few students who could call the broom to his hand. A few students even cast him jealous looks. However, everyone was suddenly distracted by Neville Longbottom's sudden wrist break. He had jumped off the ground too hard before the whistle, and he quickly fell from the heights. As Madam Hooch took him away, she warned the class to not begin flying without her, and Harry was positive he wouldn't - that is, until Draco Malfoy started being a git.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Draco said gleefully. He had picked up Neville's new Remembrall. "Better take this quick before the stupid lump remembers he forgot it." The Slytherins all laughed nastily.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry said angrily, stomping right up to Draco's face. Draco smirked and flew up into the air.

"Come and get it, then." Harry's ear were filled with roaring, and he ignored all of his friends' warnings. He kicked off, and something amazing happened: He felt free. Harry was elated. He was born for flying.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry repeated angrily. Draco looked a little worried, but he smirked it away.

"Here," he said nastily, and tossed it as hard as he could towards the castle. Harry's mind went blank, and the only thing he could do was focus on catching the Remembrall. His body leaned down, and he felt the air curve around him, pushing him faster and faster. The ball was spiraling towards the castle walls, but Harry tucked himself tighter to his broom, zipped up to the ball, caught it, and yanked up hard on his broom. He stopped just shy of the castle wall.

The students on the ground cheered distantly. He flew back triumphantly, arm raised in victory, but his euphoria soon dissipated; Professor McGonagall was storming out of the castle. "POTTER!" Professor McGonagall was livid; her skin was flushed and her eyes ablaze. "Inside, now! Straight to my office." He looked down, heart racing. Disobeying Madam Hooch's orders meant expulsion…had Harry just lost his only hope at happiness in his Muggle life?

As he waited in McGonagall's office, he kept thinking over and over again at his Uncle Vernon, purple-faced and shaking his finger at Harry, saying, "YOU'LL NEVER BE ANYTHING, BOY!" Suddenly, McGonagall walked in briskly.

"Follow me," she said tersely. Harry's heart sank when they began walking towards the headmaster's office, but lifted back up when they turned down the corridor to a separate classroom. Inside was a tall, athletic-looking student with short brown hair. He was wearing worn-out Quidditch gloves. "Wood, this is Harry Potter. Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood," she said, suddenly beaming at him with pride. "I have found you your new Seeker." Harry and Wood both stood there with their mouths gaping wide.

McGonagall nodded. "This boy can fly better than Charlie Weasley ever did. He'll be better than even his father, I daresay." Wood closed his mouth and offered his hand to Harry. "Welcome to the team then, Potter." Harry shook back, and couldn't help but grinning stupidly. This was going to be a good year.