Chapter 25

Draco grabbed Harry right after breakfast on Sunday, partly wanting to know how Harry liked the "duffers" in Hufflepuff, but mostly, of course, to talk about himself. He gave a nod to the Hufflepuff table as a whole, his eyes sliding away from Justin.

"Let's go outside," he said, pulling Harry along. "Mother sent me a box of Chapeaux. She said I ought to share it with you."

The school seemed thinly populated that morning as they made their way down the long staircases. Draco described the glory of the Slytherin Common Room in some detail, and told Harry how his arrival had entirely disrupted politics-as-usual within the house.

"The second years are not really from the best families, and there aren't many third years. I'll have every opportunity to establish myself in the house over the next few years. Zabini would be my only competition for prefect, but his father is dead, and his mother will likely cause another scandal before then. Professor Snape likes me anyway, and it's the Head of House who chooses the prefects. The Headmaster chooses Head Boy, of course, so Father told me not to expect it or worry about it, but it's important that I be first within my own house, especially now that you're in Hufflepuff and I have no real competition within Slytherin."

His father had told him not to repeat the rest of the letter, but Draco was only eleven, after all.

"Father said it was probably for the best that we weren't in the same house. With your fame, it was likely you would dominate your year in whichever house you were in. With you in Hufflepuff, and me in Slytherin, that's two houses we can control together. That's half of our year! Pretty good for first years, I'd say."

"I really hadn't thought about controlling anybody. Hufflepuff is nice. We have a third year looking after us, and there are lots of organized activities. We have a Study Night, and later Professor Sprout says we'll have a Talent Night"

"Yes, yes, all very nice, I daresay. The fact remains that in a few years we can run the school as we like. The Ravenclaws don't seem to have any leaders, and the Gryffindors are divided."

"It's too bad that the other Gryffindors aren't more friendly with Neville."

"Longbottom's all right. Decent manners, if a bit quiet. I sat with him in Herbology and he seems to know what he's about."

In fact, Draco had been very impressed by Neville's knowledge in Herbology, and had immediately grasped that he would do well in that class with Neville as a partner.

He had more to say about the subject. "Those Gryffindor girls are nothing but pretty fools. Thomas and Finnegan sit together, and Weasley and Smith are thick as thieves." He burst out laughing at his own wit. "Thick as thieves!" he crowed. "At least Weasley will do for the 'thick' bit. What a buffoon."

"He's not that bad. Smith is a prat, though."

They rambled out, and by mutual consent found their way back to the lake. A cool, stiff breeze brushed the water into choppy ripples. Draco opened his bag and revealed a ribbon-tied box. Mystified, Harry wondered what was inside. The word Draco had used meant nothing to him.

The smell of expensive, delicate pastries floated out enticingly. Inside the box, in prim ranks, were conical confections. Draco thrust the box at him.

"Help yourself."

Harry picked one up, and sniffed experimentally. The outside was a coating of smooth, dark chocolate with ribbons of green and pink buttercream. Draco had his and was already taking a bite. Deciding that anything coated in chocolate must be edible, Harry nibbled at the pointed top.

"Umm!"

Just under the chocolate coating was a layer of marzipan, rich and fragrant with almonds. Inside that layer was a filling of raspberry mousse. Harry caught the sweet, creamy filling on his tongue, and swallowed it reverently.

"What did you call this?"

"It's a Chapeau," Draco informed him. "A Witch's Hat." He stuffed the rest of his own in his mouth. "Mother gets them from Paris. Sublime, aren't they?"

"Ummhmmm," Harry agreed. After a moment, he took a deep satisfied breath, and asked, "Why does it have raspberry filling?"

Draco snickered. "Father says it's the witch's brain-delightful but entirely full of air. Mother thumps him when he says that."

Harry laughed. "They're super. It's nice of your mother to think of me." He tried to think what Professor Burbage's book said about this sort of situation. "I suppose I should owl her a thank you."

"We'll eat a few more, and make it worth your while."

They sprawled out under a beech tree, and finished half the box between them. Draco got up and skipped stones across the lake. Harry leaned back against the tree, feeling blissful. Perhaps this was the time...

"Draco-"

A stone skipped-once-twice-and disappeared under the shining surface of the lake.

"What?"

"You remember how your father wanted a class in wizarding customs?"

"Yes-that idea of his that Dumbledore keeps scotching."

"The other day some of us were talking, and we thought that if we can't have a class, maybe we could have a club."

Draco scowled, disappointed in his next throw. "What club?"

"Listen! A wizarding world club for all of us raised muggle. We could learn about manners and things like-like Chapeau thingies and manners and all that. Maybe some history too, since Binns is useless."

"Good idea. Teach the mu-muggleborn how to behave. Not that you need that sort of thing, but it would be something for the rest. Dumbledore will never hear of it, I daresay."

"No! We've got a good chance. I asked Professor Snape if he would be in charge, but he called Professor Burbage to do it instead, and she was quite excited about it. She seemed to think it was possible. So how about it?"

"How about what?" Draco threw himself on the grass and took another Chapeau, excavating carefully down to the creamy filling.

"The club! Are you in?"

"Are you serious? I'm no muggle!"

"I know! But Susan and Hannah and Ernie are in-as student assistants. They're going to help teach. I thought of you, since you know quite a lot. You had those etiquette lessons, didn't you? I reckon you must know as much as the Hufflepuffs."

Draco visibly swelled with indignation. "I should say so! Ernie MacMillan teach manners? The MacMillans are grubbing shopkeepers who got lucky! Abbot is a halfblood, you know. The Bones family is all right, I suppose, but-"

"You see? We really need you!" Feeling very cunning, Harry pointed out, "And wouldn't your father be pleased, if you managed to carry out his idea? Susan said there'd be treats, too."

"Oh! Well. Yes. Father would be pleased. I should imagine he would be very-proud," Draco's eyes glowed. "Even half the purebloods these days don't seem to know the old ways. It's a disgrace. We could talk about the real holidays, like Beltane and Samhain, and maybe even teach the old dances."

"Dances?" Harry asked, faintly horrified.

"Wizarding dancing-the real, old dances-are the best! They have special magical meanings, you know-not like muggles jumping up and down like savages. No, really, Harry! It's quite fun, really. And Father says it's good for one's magical core." He leaned back, thinking. "Don't tell anyone I'm involved. If Dumbledore hears that the Malfoys have anything to do with it, he'll never allow it. He hates us. I'll owl Father and tell him, but I'll say that you're the one doing the talking. Once the club is approved and everything is scheduled, Dumbledore won't be able to stop us without looking like a spoilsport."

"That's very Slytherin of you," Harry congratulated him.

Draco was pleased. "Yes, it is, isn't it?

Harry took another pastry, and amused himself with eating it layer by layer. "Of course, in a club like that, you're going to have to spend time with halfbloods like me and muggleborn kids like Justin-and Hermione Granger."

Seeing Draco's face clouding, he hurried on. "-And you're going to have to be nice to them and talk to them. If you don't talk to them, how can they learn? It's not fair to say people are ignorant, without giving them a chance to find out about things they need to know. I expect they'll really look up to people who help them out from the first."

Draco considered this. A little uncertainly, he said, "I'll owl Father. He'd want to know about this." He smirked. "What a prank, teaching the muggleborn proper ways right under Dumbledore's big nose! All right. If Father approves, I'm in. But that doesn't mean I'm going to be that Granger's best friend!"

"I'm not asking you to marry her, Draco," Harry said soothingly. "Just share what you know and knock them all on their arses with the grand Malfoy manner. Show the rest how it's done!"

"I could do that," Draco agreed, liking the idea of himself as a respected leader. "Marry Granger!" he snorted, licking chocolate from his fingers.

Professor Burbage sent word that the wizarding studies club seemed to be a go. She talked with Professor McGonagall, who was outspoken in her support for the group.

"After all," she said in the staff room. "So many of the wizardborn have had a chance to get to know one another. It seems very sensible to give a chance to the students new to our world to become acquainted. It was young Harry Potter's idea, you know. It's a very good thing, and it's open to all the first years. The wizardborn will teach the muggleborn about the wizarding world and vice versa. A very sound idea, and certainly one whose time has come."

Dumbledore expressed some reservations about pureblood prejudice, but he found that by and large the staff supported the new club. Quirrell did not express an opinion, and Binns seemed baffled by it all, but otherwise it was well-received.

The Wizarding World Explorers Club was approved, with Professor Charity Burbage as the staff advisor. The students would be informed within the next few days. The club would meet on Sunday afternoons in an unused classroom near the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.

Meanwhile, flying lessons had been announced, and happy, happy Thursday was here at last. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor would be learning together.

Hufflepuff House was astir. In the Sett, older students wished their first-year classmates well. Cedric told Justin, Harry, and Sally they would be fine.

"Madam Hooch knows what she's doing," he assured them. "Listen to her, and don't lose your heads. You three," he said to Ernie, Hannah, and Susan. "Keep an eye on your partners." He turned to the other three first-years, and told Justin to stick with Ernie, Sally with Hannah, and Harry with Susan. "You'll have someone used to flying with you, that way. And you, Harry," he smiled. "I heard your father was quite the quidditch player in his day. There's a trophy with his name on it, here at the school. I shouldn't wonder if you had a bit of his talent!"

Harry beamed, glad to hear praise of his father, hoping that he really had inherited something besides jewels and a trunk.

The six first-year Badgers hurried down the front steps, heading to the smooth flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest. The Gryffindors were already there, and so were thirteen broomsticks lying in three neat lines on the ground. Harry gave Neville a smile and a wave. Neville returned the wave half-heartedly, looking rather sick. Zach Smith and Ron Weasley were joking about the brooms, roughhousing a bit. Coming closer, Harry could see these brooms were certainly not up to the standards of Malfoy Manor. They were old and the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. Harry decided that he liked her eyes.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

There was some brief shoving, as Zach and Ron claimed the best of the brooms. The rest of them made do with what was left.

Neville stood by Harry, and confided, "I've never been on a broomstick. Gran wouldn't let me near one."

"A lot of people here have never been on one. I've only gone flying twice, and I don't have a broom of my own. Here-Susan," he asked the red-haired girl. "Would you watch Neville instead of me? I've at least flown, and he hasn't at all."

Susan placed herself between the two boys, looking very business-like. "I'll watch both of you. Neville, the most important thing is to stay calm. You are in charge of-" she pointed commandingly "-that broomstick. It is not in charge of you!"

At the front of the lines, Madam Hooch called out, "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'"

Not surprisingly, Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once. A good half of the brooms remained on the ground. One end of Justin's reared up tentatively, and then thumped back. Sally's rose very, very slowly, making the rest of the students giggle. Neville's hadnt moved at all. After a few more attempts, and some outright grabs, each student had a broom-of a sort-while Madam Hooch showed them how to mount without sliding off the end. She marched up and down the line, correcting their grips. There was some grumbling from more experienced flyers, but she insisted everyone do it her way or give up their broom.

"Now, when I blow my whistle," she said, "you kick off from the ground hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by learning forward slightly. On my whistle-three-two-"

Neville was so nervous that he nearly pushed off before the whistle had sounded. Susan's warning hiss stopped him. Unfortunately, it stopped him so effectively that he froze, while the rest of the class rose into the air: some smoothly, like Harry, and some in little jerks and starts, like Justin. Sally soared in a high, graceful arc, uttering a little shriek.

"Get back down here, girl!" Madam Hooch shouted. Sally, alarmed, leaned forward at once, and the broom zoomed toward the ground, Hannah, luckily, darted up beside her, and caught at the broomstick, slowing Sally's descent.

"Lean forward just a tiny bit," Hannah called. "Lean like me!"

Sally had no trouble matching Hannah's posture exactly, and the two girls touched ground together. Hannah gave Sally's shoulder a comforting pat.

Madam Hooch shouted out, "The brooms respond to the slightest motion. Small corrections, class! Small corrections!"

Harry glanced and saw that Ernie and Justin were successfully up and down together. Justin was telling Ernie about how it reminded him of his father's Lamborghini.

"I don't know much about Italian brooms," Ernie replied, very interested. They moved away, as Justin explained about muggle sports cars and what fun they were.

Between them, Susan and Harry helped Neville ease up slowly. Susan gave Neville a bright smile and tossed her red hair.

"You see?" she demanded. "It's easy!"

She leaned forward, very slightly, and Neville anxiously followed suit. Harry joined them, very smoothly, and Madam Hooch saw him and gave him a sharp nod of satisfaction.

"Very nice," she said. "You lot are shaping up a treat."

Next, she wanted them to fly in circles no higher than ten feet above the ground, first clockwise, then counterclockwise. It was something like the first lesson at Malfoy Manor, though not nearly so imaginative and exciting. In between Susan and Hannah, Harry flew decorously, minding his grip and his speed. The Gryffindors were pushing the limits of Madam Hooch's patience, whining that they already knew all this, and why did they have to slow down for the babies?

"Belt up, over there," Madam Hooch boomed. "Straighten your line. You! Finnegan, is it? You're not riding a donkey!"

That made them all laugh-Seamus as loud as the rest. Flying could never be boring, though Harry agreed with the Gryffindors that the more experienced flyers should be trained in a different group.

He was congratulating himself on his own expertise, when his broom began shaking violently.

"Whoa!" he complained, holding tight.

"Don't play the fool, Potter!" Madam Hooch growled.

"I'm not doing this!" Harry objected. "There's something wrong with the broom!"

Madam Hooch soared over to him, muttering, "Ancient rubbish. If the Governors don't cough up new brooms next year, we might as well give over altogether!"

"Quirinius?" Minerva saw Quirrell looking out the window at the first-years at their flying lesson. She smiled a little to herself at the sight of Harry, speeding along with his classmates. Looking again at Quirrell, she scowled. The man's lips were moving, but no sound was audible. What is he at?

"Quirinius!" she called, "Don't you have the third years now?"

Was he casting a spell? The lips stopped their movement, and twisted in what was clearly rage. Quirrell had no choice but turn and speak to her, his expression now the usual one of timorous apprehension.

"Y-y-yes, M-M-Minerv-va. B-b-beautiful d-d-day, isnt it?"

"I daresay," she returned curtly. "Don't be late. It sends entirely the wrong message!"

She swept away, needing to get to her own class.

The broom's flight smoothed out quite suddenly. Harry grimaced apologetically at Madam Hooch.

"It seems fine now."

"Not your fault, Potter. The underthatch is a disgrace. It's a miracle you can steer at all. You'll need to keep on top of things, though, with an unreliable broom like that." She veered off, frowning at Dean Thomas.

Next, they were to practice their ascents and descents, marking their height with the castle wall. Lavender Brown's angle was too steep, and the girl slid backwards, landing on her bottom with a squeal. Zach and Ron roared with laughter, forgetting to pay attention to what they were doing. Their brooms collided, and both were sent spinning wildly in opposite directions. There was more laughter. Ron's ears were brilliant pink with embarrassment, and he scowled at Harry, not liking to be made fun of.

Harry was too busy helping Neville avoid Zach to pay much attention. His broom began vibrating again, yawing from side to side like an angry snake.

"Harry!" Ernie called out, "Hold fast!"

He broke out of line, followed by Justin. By the time he reached Harry, the vibrating had completely stopped.

"I'm all right," Harry assured them. "Madam Hooch said this broom was rubbish. It's fun all the same."

"In no hurry to get to class, Quirrell, are we?" Snape sneered, suddenly looming out of the shadows. "And last year you were so eager for the Defense position. Your ardour seems-cooled."

Even with the addition of the turban, Snape was far taller than Quirrell, and made the most of his height to intimidate.

"If you can't be bothered to teach, there are those-more experienced, perhaps more qualified-who can easily replace you."

"S-s-sorry, S-S-Severus. Just watching the children."

"Watch them in the Defense Classroom, then!"

Snape turned smartly on his heel, and strode away to the dungeons.

Harry laughed off his friends' concerns. Now they were doing serpentine turns, and it was the most fun of all. Everyone seemed more at ease now, and they picked up speed on the curves of the figure eights. Neville still seemed anxious, but was doing well enough. Sally was picking it up quickly, and appeared to be enjoying herself. Justin, too, was having a good time, pestering Madam Hooch with questions that seemed related to horseback riding. He wanted to know what one was supposed to do with one's feet. Should the heels be depressed? What boots ought one to wear? Was there special clothing for flying?

"Didn't matter-dragonhide-yes-" were the answers rapped out rather absently by Madam Hooch, who was too busy watching to listen.

Harry thought that Justin's questions were good ones, and perhaps in one of their club sessions they could learn all about the ins and outs of flying. Madam Hooch might consent to be a guest speaker, if Professor Burbage asked her. Flying and quidditch were very important to the wizarding world.

Out of the blue, his broom bucked, nearly spilling him to the ground. He clenched his teeth and pulled up quickly. Ron Weasley was just passing from the other direction, and there was a cry of alarm. Glancing back, he saw that the red-haired boy's broom was pitching violently. A jerk, and the boy was flung off bodily, clinging only by his hands, as the broom roared toward the ground. Ron screamed, blue eyes distended.

"Arghhh! Help me!"

Harry banked tightly. Pushing his own broom to the highest speed, he shot after Ron, hand out. With a flick, he nosed the broom up as Madam Hooch flew in from the other side. She reached over and caught the broom handle, while Harry tightened his own grip. Together, they slowed and made a soft descent. Ron dropped the last three feet, curling up on his side, breathing heavily. Madam Hooch slipped over her own broom, jumping lightly to the ground.

"Are you all right? Let's see your hands." She called out to Harry, "Good catch, Potter!"

Zach Smith zoomed up beside Harry, glaring. "Think you're smart, Potter! You probably knocked Ron off his broom, and now you act like some sort of hero, saving him!"

Harry glared in his turn. "I did not knock him off his broom, Smith!"

Justin flew up and circled them both slowly. "Of course you didn't, Harry. I saw it myself. Weasley lost control and would have crashed if you hadn't caught him. Fair is fair," he told Smith. "I didnt see you helping your friend."

Zach sneered, and zoomed away. Harry rolled his eyes at Justin, who snorted a laugh.

"There's a nasty piece of work."

"All right!" Madam Hooch called, "That's all for today! Get down, you lot! Be here at the same time next Thursday. And if you don't want to spoil your hands," she declared, shooting a dark look at Parvati Patil, "you'll wear flying gloves!"

Ron was still sitting on the ground, looking winded. Harry walked past with Justin, when the red-haired boy called out, "Potter!"

Harry turned, bracing himself for more accusations.

"Thanks," Ron muttered.

Harry gave him a grin and a quick nod.

Quirrell followed Dumbledore to the Headmaster's Office, fuming. The old fool wanted Quirrell's ideas for the new Wizarding World Club, and had been disappointed not to have received them earlier. Clearly, dawdling in a public area was an invitation for prim rebukes from McGonagall, not-so-veiled threats from a jealous, resentful Snape-and tea with the Headmaster. In the future, observing Harry Potter must be undertaken with more discretion.

While the others trailed away from the flying lesson, Madam Hooch kept Harry back for a word. "Not half bad, Potter," she approved. "You seem to be a natural on a broom."

"Thanks, Madam Hooch!"

Harry was warmed by the kind words. Flying really was the best thing in the world. Draco was absolutely right.

And speaking of Draco-here he was himself, on his way to the Slytherin/Ravenclaw flying lesson. He was flanked by Vincent and Gregory, regaling them with a story about a narrow escape from a muggle helicopter.

Further back, behind the Ravenclaws, was Hermione Granger. Her small face, framed by her bushy brown hair, looked lonely and scared. Harry felt badly for her. It didn't look as if the Ravenclaws were partnered up the way the Hufflepuffs had been. He moved over to speak to Draco.

"Harry!" the blond boy called. "How was it?"

"A lot of fun. The brooms are rubbish, though. Watch out for them." He lowered his voice. "It went as well as it did because the experienced flyers looked after the first-timers-the way you and your father looked after me at Malfoy Manor. It made all the difference today, you know."

Draco smirked with satisfaction.

"-And so," Harry went on, "I'd really appreciate it if you'd look after Hermione. She's going to be in our club-at least if the Headmaster is persuaded it's a good idea. This is a chance to show leadership," he pointed out virtuously. "I would have done it if she'd been in our group, but you're the most experienced after all, and I reckon you'd do the best job anyway."

Draco grimaced, torn between basking in the praise and accepting the care and tutelage of a-of a-of a muggleborn.

Harry gazed at him, green eyes a-glow. "Draco," he intoned, very seriously. "WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY."

The words hung in the air. Draco did his best not to show how impressed he was with Harry's remarkable eloquence. The world seemed to shift on its axis...

"Oh, very well," Draco surrendered. "But she had better not talk me to death!"

Sulkily, he muttered a dismissal back at his bodyguards, and sloped off to speak to Hermione. Harry watched, and saw the girl perk up and begin chatting as she trotted after Draco to the waiting brooms. Harry grinned, noticing that Draco was trying to walk a little faster to escape the torrent of questions.