Disclaimer – Everything you recognise belongs to JKR. All the rest is simply me playing in her sandbox.

-oOoOo-

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Chapter 5

"Harry?"

"Hi, Hagrid!"

Harry knew that he was bouncing slightly, but he couldn't help it. He was just too excited.

"Can I come in?"

Hagrid's eyes narrowed. "Why aren't you in class?"

"Professor McGonagall gave me the rest of the lesson off so I thought that I'd come down to see you," he beamed.

"Alrigh' then, come on in," said Hagrid, smiling through his bushy beard.

Harry had barely taken a step through the door when the great slobbering mess that was Hagrid's dog, Fang, attacked him.

"Hi, Fang," said Harry as he desperately tried to stay on his feet and avoid Fang's tongue at the same time.

"Get down, ya dozey dog," Hagrid said before bustling off to make some tea.

Two cups, one normal sized and one Hagrid sized, were put on the table along with a plate full of rock cakes. Harry eyed the cakes warily. He'd tried one the last time that he'd visited. In Harry's opinion, Hagrid was absolutely amazing in all but one vital area. He couldn't cook for nuts. And as someone who'd been cooking at least two meals ever since he could reach the stovetop while standing on a chair, he knew the difference between good and bad food. Unfortunately, that didn't stop him from taking a rock cake anyway. He just liked Hagrid too much to risk hurting his feelings.

"So why'd Professor McGonagall let you out of class?" Hagrid asked when he finally joined Harry at the table.

"Well, you see, today was our first flying lesson," he babbled happily, "and Neville had a bit of an accident. Broke his wrist, I think. Anyway, Malfoy stole Neville's rememberall and when I told him to give it back, he just threw it away. But I caught it and Professor McGonagall saw it and told me to follow her. I thought I was going to get expelled or something, especially when she took me to see Wood. That's Oliver Wood. But it turns out that all Professor McGonagall wanted was to put me on the Gryffindor quidditch team. I'm the new Seeker!"

For a second, Harry thought that he must have spoken too quickly or didn't tell the story right because Hagrid was simply sitting there staring at him, his tea mug frozen half-way to his mouth. Suddenly, he slapped his hand on the table top, spilling tea everywhere.

"Harry, that's amazin'!" Hagrid roared with delight. "Seeker! And on the team in yer first year. Firs' years never make the quidditch teams! Seeker! Hah! Good on yer, Harry."

He slapped the table again, smiling fondly at Harry.

"Yer know, yer dad was on the Gryffindor quidditch team too. He played chaser. But he didn't make the team until his third year," Hagrid told him.

"My dad played quidditch?" Harry asked in wonder. He'd never heard anything about either of his parents before.

"Sure he did," Hagrid replied. "Hang on, I reckon I've got a photo of him here somewhere. Do ya wanta see it?"

Harry nodded harder than he ever had before. He was about to see his first ever picture of his dad.

-oOoOo-

Harry only just made it to charms class on time. He'd stayed much longer with Hagrid than he'd originally planned. But getting to see the photo of his dad and to see him smiling and waving up at him was amazing.

And it wasn't just James Potter that he got to see, either. The old photo that Hagrid had finally dug out from the box under his bed also had his dad's three best friends in it. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, Hagrid had told him.

Harry had determined then and there to send Hedwig with a letter to each of them as soon as he had the chance. People who actually knew his dad, probably his mum too. He just bet that they'd have heaps of stories to tell him. Maybe even a spare photo or two lying around that they could give him. It'd been an absolute wrench handing the photo back to Hagid before he had had to leave for class.

Slipping in the door, Harry scuttled up between the desks to take his spot between Hermione and Neville.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, then, in a more accusing tone, "where've you been? We thought that you'd been expelled!"

"Nah," he grinned back. "I've been down at Hagrid's."

"What happened with Professor McGonagall?" Neville asked.

Harry looked around before leaning in and whispering, "she put me on the quidditch team. I'm the new seeker."

"Seeker! But first years are never allowed on the team," Neville's face was as shocked as he sounded.

"Apparently Professor McGonagall's made some sort of allowance," Harry replied.

"Brilliant!" Ron breathed in awe from the far side of Neville. "You must be the youngest player in a century!"

Harry nodded. "That's what Wood said, too. Oh, Neville, before I forget, here's your rememberall."

"Thanks Harry," Neville smiled.

"Could I have everyone's attention? Thank you," tiny Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Today we're going to start on a new charm. Mister Thomas, if you could pass everyone a matchstick, please."

While Dean was walking around the room, Professor Flitwick continued.

"Today we're going to begin working on the locomotor charm. This is a useful little spell to move objects around, and is especially used in conjunction with the wingardium leviosa charm which levitates objects. The two spells combined are most commonly used to have objects follow you from place to place, especially heavy items for example furniture. Of course, the larger the object, the more magic that must be applied and the harder it is to do.

"We won't be starting on wingardium leviosa until next week. And combining the two spells will wait until next year when you all have a much firmer control of your magic. Today, our aim is to simply make the matchstick that you've been given slide along the desk in front of you. Watch closely as I show you the wand movement and incantation."

Harry's eyes fixed on the tiny professor's wand.

"The incantation is, of course, locomotor combined with the name of the object that you wish to move. For today, the incantation is locomotor matchstick. The wand movement begins with a small circling motion, followed by a sharp jab at the object in question. Then it is simply a matter of swishing your wand in the direction that you wish the object to move. Thus …"

Professor Flitwick's wand pointed a matchstick on the desk before him. Following the incantation, the matchstick trundled from one side of the desk to the other and back again, before the tiny professor looked up at them all with a smile.

"You've seen how it's done and I know that you all did your homework and have read the theory, so begin practising."

Harry glanced nervously from side to side before looking down at the matchstick in front of him. Doing the practicals in class always made him nervous. He hated being where others could see what he was doing. At least he'd been able to avoid doing homework with his classmates, instead secreting himself in his special little place.

Hearing both Hermione and Neville to either side of him already beginning, Harry sighed and cautiously pointed his wand at the small piece of wood.

"Locomotor matchstick," he intoned, swirling his wand and jabbing it forward.

With a quick flick of his wand, the matchstick took off. Harry watched horrified as it zoomed straight at Hermione. With a squeak, he lunged forward, flattening himself across the desk and squashing the stick flat before it could go too far.

"Harry! What are you doing?" Hermione asked angrily; her own matchstick had yet to move, despite a number of attempts.

"Um, nothing," he replied, feeling his face go red, "I just … slipped."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but he quickly looked away. Trying to get her attention off of him, Harry once again pointed his wand at the matchstick in front of him.

This time when he said the incantation, he made sure to not only put the emphasis in the wrong part of the words, but he also let his wand work be a bit lazier. With a smile that he desperately tried to keep off of his face, Harry saw his matchstick fail to move at all.

It wasn't until just before lesson ended that he finally allowed his matchstick to move once more, this time much slower and not as far. By then, just over half the class had already succeeded in making their own matchsticks move. Hermione of course, was the 'first', although both Neville nor Ron had yet to succeed.

He never once noticed that Professor Flitwick had been keeping a very close eye on him throughout the entire lesson.

-oOoOo-

The teacher's lounge had a magnificent view of the Black Lake but rarely was the view admired. On the rare occasions when the various Hogwarts professors gathered there, they barely even glanced out of the window that took up most of the far wall. The collection of comfy chairs surrounding the fireplace on the opposite wall seemed to have a much greater appeal. Of course, the small cabinet to the side may have had something to do with it as well.

"Another gillywater, Minerva?" Pomona Sprout asked, holding the bottle aloft.

A couple of seconds pause was followed by a soft sigh and a glass lifted high. "I think I will, Pomona. I had the third year Gryffindors in my last class for the day."

Poppy Pomfrey, the castle's mediwitch chuckled. "The twins I take it? What'd those two red-heads do this time?"

Professor McGonagall scowled. "Somehow they managed to transfigure all of the Slytherins bags into spiders the size of labradors. Don't ask me how they did it, but it took me nearly half the class to change them all back."

"I trust you gave them a suitable punishment. Perhaps banning them from quidditch this year might curb their enthusiasm for breaking the rules," Professor Snape drawled from where he sat working at one of the tables.

"Don't worry, Severus, they were punished. Three nights detention working with Mister Filch," Minerva shot back. "And they're both staying on the team. They're the best beaters that Gryffindor have had for nearly a decade and I fully intend to have that Cup out of your office this year and back where it belongs. In my office."

"Now, now, Minerva, don't count your dragons until they're hatched," Pomona replied, pointing her mug of mead at her rival, "I think my Hufflepuff team has a good chance at the Cup this year."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, Pomona," the Head of Gryffindor House replied with a smile. "I think that we may just have the ticket to win this year."

"Yes, I heard about Mister Potter's inclusion," Filius Flitwick replied. "A first year Seeker. He must be good. But then, his father was a particularly good quidditch player as well."

Minerva's lips thinned but she held her tongue, not wanting to betray her hand, while across from her, a low hiss of air betrayed Professor Snape's displeasure.

"Speaking of our newest Mister Potter," Filius continued, "have any of you noticed anything odd about the young man?"

Minerva looked sharply at her colleague. One of her Gryffindors had done something odd?

"No, I can't say that I have," she replied. "He's fairly quiet in class, not quite as studious as I would have hoped for, but he shows promise."

"The boy's arrogant and pig-headed without an ounce of skill for potions. Very much like his father," Severus Snape sneered.

"Can't say that I agree with that assessment, Severus," Pomona replied. "He certainly knows his way around the gardens and how to handle the plants in my greenhouse."

"Why do you ask, Filius?" Minerva asked, trying to head off the impending argument.

"It was the strangest thing," he replied. "We were starting to work on the locomotor charm in class today and I'm positive that on his first attempt, young Mister Potter succeeded to the extent that his matchstick fairly flew across the desk. But before I could be sure, he threw himself across the desk covering up his matchstick and then proceeded to use the shoddiest wand work that I've ever seen."

"Obviously a fluke," Severus pointed out.

"No, I don't think so," Professor Flitwick replied slowly. "Just before the end of class I'm positive that I saw him determining how many others had already succeeded in working the charm before adjusting his technique and performing the charm perfectly."

"You believe that he has more skill than he's showing?" Minerva asked, scandalised at the idea of a student intentionally underperforming.

"I'm not sure," Filius replied. "It certainly looked that way. And I'm sure that we all remember how gifted his mother Lily was at charmed."

"Hmm, thank you, Filius, I think that I'll keep a little closer eye on Mister Potter from now on," Minerva assured them all.