Chapter 11

Falling with Style

A/N: Thank you to everyone who've read and reviewed! It's great to see people actually caring about my work! I hope you guys like the next chapter!

Queen of nerds77: It's meant to be purposefully ambiguous, but no. Harry hasn't been possessed.

I don't own Harry Potter!

The next morning, Harry walked with purpose down to the Great Hall. He was going to confront Ron about the things he had said to Hermione. He had everything planned out. He had chosen his words, and planned on talking to Ron after breakfast. But when he entered the Great Hall, Harry encountered quite the sight. Parading back and forth between the tables were several groups of students in the various Hogwarts House colors. Each group was made up of between four and six students, two of which held large bats. One student from each group was holding a scroll into the air as the two students with bats hit enchanted balls toward anyone who came close to their scroll.

"Quidditch sign-ups!" The students with the scrolls shouted. "If you'd like to play, just come and sign your name."

A third-year Gryffindor attempted to reach the scroll to sign his name and was swatted away by one of the flying enchanted balls, batted by a Weasley twin. There were six students in the Gryffindor group and the third year seemed to be one of perhaps a dozen students attempting to get to the sheet. Similar scenes played out across the hall, with students being pelted as they attempted to reach their House's sign-up sheets.

Sitting down next to Ron, Harry asked, "What's Quidditch?"

"You don't know what Quidditch is?" Ron asked. "It's the greatest sport ever. Wizards play it across the world!"

"How does it work?"

"Well first, you have to have brooms." Ron started. "Each player—"

"Don't ask Ickle Ronniekins about Quidditch!" Fred yelled over to Harry.

"Best ask the professionals!" George continued. "Ronald thinks he knows how Quidditch works, but you don't know a thing until you've actually played!" As he spoke, George batted one of the flying balls into the chest of a fifth-year who wanted to sign up.

"Shut up!" Ron shouted at his brothers. "You both know that I'm already a better Keeper than either of you!"

"Ooh, little Ron's letting his temper get to him!" George laughed.

"Next thing we know he'll accidentally transfigure something into a spider!" said Fred. Jumping up onto the table, George transfigured one of the balls that was speeding toward him through the air into a stuffed spider and sprang back in mock fear as it crashed into him, screaming as he plummeted off the side of the table and into Fred's arms.

"That's not funny!" Ron called out as Fred changed the ball back. "You're just jealous because I'm smarter than you!"

"Not smart enough to know a fake spell when we give it to you!" Fred called out gleefully.

Harry watched as the argument devolved into childish insults being thrown back and forth between the twins and Ron, and he started to understand something. Looking at Ron's angry, red face, Harry realized that this was a sort of defense for Ron. Growing up as the youngest of six brothers, Ron had learned to shield himself with insults and yelling when he was angry or hurt. He didn't really mean the things he said.

Harry was debating how he should talk to Ron about what he'd said to Hermione when he felt contact with his shoulder. Jerking forward, Harry rolled off of the bench he'd been sitting on and fell backwards onto the ground. He looked up from the floor with raised hands, pointing his wand at his attacker.

Standing in front of Harry was none other than Draco Malfoy, lips curled in a perplexed grin.

"Scared, Potter? Guess you should be scared of us real wizards. Call yourself a pureblood, but I always see you sitting with the blood-traitor and the squib! You even defend mudbloods!" Draco shouted, clearly overjoyed at Harry's reaction. "Just thought I'd let you know that, though I was confused at first, I've realized where you really belong. Down with the pigs and the rats." He gestured at Ron as he said this, before walking back to the Slytherin table and laughing.

Given the cacophony being created by the Quidditch Sign-up Sheets, only the students immediately around Harry heard what had been said. Most were quiet, but several students laughed at Malfoy's humiliating words while Harry remained on the floor.

"What's a mudblood?" Harry asked quietly after he had regained his seat.

"It's an insult to someone who's muggleborn. Most of the pureblooded families believe that if you're muggleborn, you're not as good as them and you don't deserve to have magic. Mudblood means dirty blood."

"I see." Harry said, contemplating the term. There was a long pause before Ron chose to speak.

"Why'd you jump like that?" He asked Harry cautiously.

"No reason." Harry replied with feigned nonchalance. "I just thought he might be up to something." He thought that was as good an excuse as any, as it seemed likely that Malfoy would try to hurt him somehow. He just didn't realize that words had long ago ceased to have any effect.

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Harry continued to grow more accustomed to Hogwarts as his week there progressed. Each of his classes was very different from the last, and the different teachers had each had different teaching styles. McGonagall's Transfiguration class was very focused on understanding the theory and method behind the magic being done. Flitwick taught Charms from a more feeling-based perspective, almost as if one was finding their own way to do the spell. Defense Against the Dark Arts, the class that Harry had been the most excited for, turned out to be a rather bland class. Professor Quirrell was constantly stuttering through their lesson and hadn't actually taught anything new for their first class.

As for Harry's other classes, he hadn't yet attended his Herbology class, but Neville had been particularly excited for them to learn about plants. Harry thought, personally, that History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns, was undoubtedly the most boring thing that he had ever experienced. The late professor had died one day, and simply continued showing up to teach the class. He always spoke in the same monotonous drone that made everything he lectured on seem more boring than brushing one's teeth.

Harry was sitting in the library by himself reading another excerpt from his mother's diary in his free time between that day's History of Magic lesson and the Flying lesson to be held that afternoon. He read:

October 1st, 1971

I hate it here. I wish I could go home. I miss Tunie and I don't have any friends. The Prince is off in Slytherin while I'm here with a bunch of rude Gryffindor boys. Everyone stays away from me because I'm muggleborn. They treat me so badly. Last night, the girls in my dorm enchanted my curtains so I couldn't get out of bed until I burned them, and then Professor McGonagall gave me detention for destroying them! I don't know what to do. I wish I was still with my parents.

With regret,

Lily Evans

Written in the darker, cleaner script that Harry had come to know as being indicative of a note added by his mother much more recently than the diary's initial entry was a message.

Harry, I know you're going to be reading this and I don't want you to have the wrong idea. Hogwarts is an amazing place and by the end of my stay I truly viewed it as a home, but when I first arrived I only saw the dark things, and I was upset about losing my sister as a friend. Once I got up the nerve to actually be myself and I stopped listening to what people said about muggleborns, everything became much easier. All I really needed was to find some friends who would be there for me. I'm sure that you will find some of your own.

After having read both the diary entry and the message, Harry came to the conclusion that he needed to make more of an effort to make friends. He had been missing Tonks quite a lot and had made little attempt in the past days to become closer to anyone. As he became familiar with the prejudices and misjudgments of the students around him, Harry had almost wanted to give up on them for being so close-minded. The only person he had had much contact with over the past days were Ron and Neville, and then only because they actively sought him out. Hermione, the one person he felt he had some sort of genuine connection with, had been acting strangely and Harry had rarely seen more than a glimpse of her in the previous days.

Making a decision that he needed to be more proactive, Harry gathered up his mother's diary and set out to find one of them, he left the library and immediately came upon Ron making his was from the Great Hall out to the castle grounds.

"Hello!" Harry said as Ron approached.

"Oh, hi Harry. How're you?"

"I'm doing well." Harry said, realizing he had nothing in particular to talk about.

"Are you ready for today's flying lesson? It's going to be your first time on a broom, right?"

Harry nodded. "Bit nervous I'll mess it up, but I'm really excited to try it anyway." He finished with a smile..

Harry and Ron continued out onto the grounds and chatted about classes, Ron complaining loudly about how boring Professor Binns was and how he couldn't stand Professor Snape. Harry laughed along, commenting at the appropriate times to lubricate their conversation. They remained like this for quite a while, sitting on the lush, green grounds as Harry idly stroked through the pages of his mother's diary.

"What is that?" Ron asked, gesturing toward the book.

"It's a diary. It belonged to my mother." Harry said softly. "I never got to meet her, but she left all these notes in here for me to get to know her." He clutched the book closely. "It helps make it seem like she's here with me."

Ron nodded, clearly uncomfortable, and they remained silent until Ron declared that it was time they headed to their flying lesson. Harry and Ronald were walking down from Gryffindor Tower to the Quidditch Pitch where their Flying Lesson was being held and Ron had renewed his loud complaints about Binns' inability to make even great wizarding battles seem interesting. As they exited the castle, Harry saw Hermione walking with swift strides not too far ahead of them.

"Hermione!" He called out. Harry had hoped to find her soon so that he could talk to her about classes. Turning around, Hermione looked Harry in the eye and he saw her expression fall.

"Alright, what is it?" Hermione asked irritably once Harry and Ron had closed the distance.

Confused, Harry paused for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to see how you were doing." He finally said.

"I am doing just fine, thank you very much." Hermione said sarcastically and turned as if to walk away.

"What is your problem?!" Ron shouted at her.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked Ron.

"You're constantly being a rude little know-it-all! Every class you sit in your chair with your hand raised as if the world's going to end if you can't answer a question! Then you have the nerve to be rude when anyone is crazy enough to talk to you!" Harry saw something in Hermione's eyes that he couldn't quite place and watched her stalk away.

"Was that really necessary, Ron?"

"She was being absolutely mental!" Ron said in exasperation. "You just tried to talk to her and she bites your head off!"

"Well I think it hurts her feelings when you say things like that."

"And she deserves it!" Ron shouted. "She's always trying to one-up everyone. It's not attractive." Ron grimaced after he said this and looked down.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I sound like my mother." Ron said with a frown. Then in an imitation of a woman's voice, "He's too needy, it's not attractive. She's too worried about her appearance, it's not attractive." He shook his head. "She always says that, and now it's infecting me!"

Harry laughed and they continued down toward the Quidditch Pitch to the soundtrack of Ron's muttering about his family.

When they arrived at the pitch, Ron and Harry walked to join the small crowd of students gathered around Madam Hooch. She was an older woman, with short grey hair and her lined face was screwed into a stern expression. The green grass of the pitch bore marks from various quidditch-related abuses. There were deep gouges in the earth in lines from riders who had fallen off their broomsticks. In some places, there were dents where round balls had clearly smashed into the earth.

The Gryffindors' first flying lesson was to be shared with the Slytherins. The rivalry between the two houses always created a tension for one to outperform the other. Harry watched the students line up near two rows of brooms lying on the ground, facing off, almost as if in a duel.

"Alright!" Madam Hooch shouted, calling them to attention. "This will be your first flying lesson of the term. Each of you stand next to a broom, hold out your hand, and command it into your hand. The brooms have magical cores, so they will respond to your magic. Just hold your hand out and say 'Up!'"

Each of them stood next to brooms and called them with their magic. Almost half the class was able to achieve this in one try, whereas the other students took multiple tries to call their brooms into their hands.

"Alright, now that you have your brooms I want you to mount them and kick off! Hold your broom even with the ground and you will hover. Do not attempt any flying just yet! First, you have to become familiar with hovering."

Harry swept his leg over his broom and kicked lightly off the ground into a hover. He held the broom steadily and was able to hover without problem. Looking around, he saw that many of the students, including Ron and Draco, were hovering with ease, but some, like Hermione, were rocking back and forth, causing their brooms to lead them into the air and dive in small, parabolic waves.

Madam Hooch continued bellowing out instructions. "No one should be attempting to go anywhere yet. Just become familiar with the balancing act of remaining on the broom. After you become more comfortable we will move forward to the actual flying." Harry felt particularly at ease, finding no difficulty in the task of remaining on the broom.

Watching Hermione's nervous rocking, Harry saw a young Slytherin boy across from her begin to correct her. Although he couldn't hear exactly what the boy said, he watched the boy fly over to her and begin roughly moving her hands and pushing on her shoulder. Hermione lost her balance as the boy attempted to aid her and she leaned forward much too far. Harry watched in stunned silence as both she and the boy who still gripped her broomstick were propelled forward at high speed for a dozen feet before the front of her broomstick hit the ground, causing both of them to be thrown violently to the ground.

Speeding over, Madam Hooch made an inspection of the situation. Harry leaned forward and brought his broom over to the scene in a quick rush. "Is everything okay?" He asked Madam Hooch.

"Everything will be fine, Harry." Madam Hooch said irritably. "The girl has a broken wrist and this fool boy has knocked himself into a good concussion. I'll need to take the pair of them to the hospital wing. It always seems to happen this way. Go back to the others and tell them I said not to fly anywhere, Harry." When she had finished speaking, Madam Hooch lifted Hermione and the boy with magic and walked to the front gate of the castle.

Harry turned around and flew slowly back to the group. "Madam Hooch said not to go anywhere!" He said to them all before noticing that the Slytherins had formed into a large group, hovering around one Draco Malfoy, who appeared to be monologuing from a book he held in front of him with one hand, holding his broom with the other.

"— I couldn't believe his nerve, calling me a mudblood today! Me! His best friend since he was a child! His Lily of the field!" Draco paused to let the laughter of his fellow students ring out. Harry realized suddenly that the book Draco was holding was none other than his mother's diary. Searching his robes quickly to be sure he wasn't mistaken, Harry found that the diary was indeed missing. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he flew over to Hermione. "Well I'll have him know that I'd rather be with that git James—"

"Give that back to me, Malfoy!" Harry shouted.

"Oh, does little Potter want his mommy's precious diary back?" Malfoy jeered into Harry's face.

"Come off it, Malfoy!" Ron shouted from behind Harry. "Give him back his book."

"Yeah!" Neville chorused weakly. Harry was shocked that either boy had stood up for him and a warm feeling that seemed the reverse of feeling guilty filled him up.

"Oh, Potter wants to read more about how his mom wasn't just a mudblood, she was a filthy slut!" Malfoy paused and flipped to a later page to read again from the book. "I was talking to him today and I felt so turned on I couldn't believe it. I mean he used to just make me sick, but something's changed in him this year. Anyway I excused myself immediately so that—"

"Shut up!" Harry screamed at Malfoy as the boys around him howled in laughter. "Give it back Malfoy or I'll hurt you!"

"What, you think I'm afraid of a flinching little fool like you? You were so scared in the Great Hall that you fell out of your chair just from me touching you! Leave alone that I'm sure you've never even been on a broom. In fact, if you can catch me, you can have it!" Malfoy grinned at the last and spun his broom around, taking off across the Quidditch Pitch.

Harry looked at Malfoy flying away as Neville muttered, "But we're supposed to stay here."

Seeing Malfoy streaking away with his book filled Harry with rage and he shot off after the blond boy. There were cheers and scattered applause as the student's watched the show. Malfoy swung his broom to the right and the left, up and down, and looped around the Quidditch goalposts in an attempt to shake Harry off of his tail. Harry kept up with him move for move, his only goal to catch Malfoy so he could get his mother's diary back.

Draco came out of a sharp turn and looked back with a smile on his face, only to have it drop away when he saw that Harry still followed closely behind him. Reaching one hand out, Harry grasped the tail of Malfoy's broom and pulled, attempting to slow him down. Malfoy jerked to a stop and Harry nearly crashed into him at this.

"Fine," Malfoy said, panting. "I told you you could have it." Then he grinned with evil pleasure as he heaved his arm back with the book in it and said, "Catch it if you can." Then he let the book fly, throwing it with all his might across the Quidditch Pitch.

Harry took off like a bolt, racing to try and keep the book from being destroyed. His father had enchanted the book to hold more pages than it should, and if it was destroyed, the enchantment would be destroyed as well, meaning Harry would never get to read what his mother had written for him. He pressed the worn school broom as fast as he could, trying to force his magic into the brooms core to make it work better.

He felt a tentative connection with the broom and gained a bit of speed, but now the book had reached the apex of its curve and it was falling rapidly. Harry pointed his broom downward, trying to cut off the book at an angle, hoping to reach the ground faster. He was in a steep dive, pushing the broom to go faster than it had ever gone before with his eyes locked on the freefalling book. The ground rose beneath him and Harry knew that if he hit the ground at this speed he would easily come away with a dozen broken bones.

Harry was fifty feet from the ground, then thirty, then twenty, he reached his hand out to grasp the book, locked his fingers around it, grasped it to his chest, and pulled from the dive with bare inches to spare. However, the strain proved to be too much for the broom and its core died, falling from under Harry and leaving him to plummet into the ground at breakneck speed.

Harry's right hip connected with the ground first, and he felt his whole body whip down into the ground as the friction slowed him, ending with a massive crack as his head struck hard. He lost much of his awareness after that and only knew that he was flipping through the air in some manner, repeatedly colliding with the hard earth.

Then he was lying still in the dirt. Motion had ceased. His chest hurt. When Harry tried to breathe, it felt as if he had again broken a rib or three. His left arm was bent at an odd angle underneath his back and though it was numb Harry was sure it was broken. Harry tried to open his eyes, but everything was blurry. He realized that his glasses would obviously be broken. He still clutched his mother's book to his chest with his right arm.

The indistinct faces of those crouched above him muttered things that Harry couldn't quite make sense of in his befuddled state. "It's okay, I got it." He said, though his abdomen strongly protested his speaking with a sharp pain. The mutterings became louder when he spoke and he repeated, "I got the book, it's ok." before blacking out.

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Harry awoke in a hospital room. He had had a lovely dream of speaking with his mother, although she had lectured him that he needed to be safer so as to avoid dying in his first year. He chuckled at his remembrance. Looking around, Harry found his glasses sitting on top of a nightstand to his left. He quickly placed them on and the world came into focus. Looking down at himself, Harry saw that his mother's book had been placed at the foot of his bed.

He tentatively moved his left arm, but felt no pain. Breathing didn't seem to be causing him pain either. He tried to speak. "Hello?" he said to the empty room. "Is anyone there?"

Immediately the middle-aged Madam Pomfrey appeared from a doorway in the back of the room clothed in grey robes.

"You're awake!" She said happily. "Well that seems to be a much faster recovery than I had hoped for. You took quite a turn out there, boy." She said in admonishment. "Wait here a moment, Madam Hooch wants to speak with you and after that you will have some visitors."

The woman bustled from the room and out of sight, leaving Harry to think about what trouble he might be in with Madam Hooch for flying off unadvised. He knew that it was Malfoy's fault, but he also knew that teachers and adults weren't concerned with fairness. He thought bleakly of how he would most likely be expelled as he waited.

After several minutes, Madam Pomfrey reappeared with the Flying instructor in tow. "You may speak with him." She said sternly. "But try not to agitate him, he seems to have awoken rather quickly and I'd like to check him over to be sure he's fully healed."

Madam Hooch nodded, then stared at Pomfrey until the healer walked off to complete some task away from Harry's bed. "Harry, tell me exactly what you did yesterday on the pitch."

"Yesterday?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Yes, Harry, you stayed here in the hospital last night so that your bones could be healed. Even with Madam Pomfrey's skill, we didn't expect you to be awake until tomorrow, or maybe even the next day. Harry realized suddenly that that meant he had missed his meeting with Hagrid while he was in the hospital and groaned.

Hooch nodded along before looking Harry in the eye. "Now, tell me Harry, what happened?"

"Well first Malfoy took my book and—"

"Not that." The Flying instructor said quickly. "I already know all of that from your fellow students. Malfoy took the book, you chased him, he threw it, you crashed. What I want to know is how did you know how to fly the broom, and what did you do to make it as fast as it was?"

Harry was shocked. No questions about what had happened? Did that mean that Harry might've already been expelled while he was still asleep. "Do I have to go home?" he blurted out in panic.

"What?" Madam Hooch seemed completely caught off guard by the question. "Why would you be going home?"

"Because I flew away. I didn't listen."

Madam Hooch's features softened and he saw the now-familiar look of someone who was realizing that Harry Potter was not what they expected. "No, you will not be sent home. Malfoy was given a detention for taking your property, and though I understand what you did, I will advise you to remember that your body is more important than any book."

"It was my mother's." Harry said. Again, the look of realization on Hooch's face.

"Well I didn't know that." She said softly. "Either way, no one will be punishing you Harry. Now will you please explain what you did? I looked at the broom you were using and it has never been particularly fast, and you made it look like a competition-level broom yesterday, at least until you crashed. How did you know how to fly at all?"

"I don't know, it just felt… natural. Like something I'd known how to do, but forgot until I got on it. I didn't think about it." Harry shrugged. "As for the speed, I tried to make it faster with magic. I pushed my magic into it like I do with my wand, and it sped up for me."

Madam Hooch nodded, as if expecting the answer. "Well, Harry, as impressive as that is, for it is quite difficult to do, you're lucky it didn't give out sooner. Brooms can be affected with magic like that, but in an older broom, or one that's not incredibly well-made, it will often cause the core to die completely when it feels foreign magic. If that had happened sooner, you would have plummeted out of the sky and most likely died."

She met Harry's eyes again. "That being said, your control of that broom was marvelous for someone who's never ridden a broom. I suggest you rest up, you have a big day tomorrow."

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

"Gryffindor is looking for a new Seeker for their quidditch team. I got your name on the list." Madam Hooch smiled. "Tryouts are tomorrow at noon."

A/N: Chapter 11 is finally done! Hope you guys enjoy it! Please review and let me know what you thought, and again, thank you so much for reading!

Where were you when I was the terrible secret?