Chapter Eight: Quidditch (Part 2)

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" She said, not looking up from her book. Harry paused, trying to figure out how to ask it properly.

"How are we magical?" He finally asked. Hermione frowned, her attention now fully on him.

"What do you mean?" She asked slowly and he paused, considering.

"How did it happen? Where did we get it?" Hermione paused, thinking about it.

"Well...magic is in us, in our DNA, the very building blocks of our entire being. Maybe it was a mutation, or a recessive gene, but it's built in." She tilted her head, her mind elsewhere, and Harry nodded, though he didn't really understand all the science-y stuff.

"Okay. What if you lost it?" Harry asked and Hermione frowned.

"Lost it?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Like, what if your magic left you? Got removed or something?"

Hermione scrunched up her eyebrows. "Well, it would destroy us."

"Destroy us?" Harry frowned. She nodded.

"Essentially, it would destroy us, tear us apart. If someone's magic separated from their body, it would kill them." He felt the disappointment like a shock to his system. Hermione saw his look of sorrow but didn't interpret it properly. "Don't worry, Harry. It won't happen to you. And someone else can't do it to you. You won't lose your magic." He looked down at his hands. She didn't know how awful those words really were for him.

"Okay. Thanks 'Mione," He said, resigned. She smiled at him, nodding, before turning back to her book.

He would need another opinion. Time to ask someone else.


"I have a question," Harry said, turning away from the window when his professor came up to his desk.

"About the spell?" She asked him and he shook his head.

"No." He waved her off and she raised an eyebrow.

"Well then, let me see it first, Mr. Potter," She said brusquely, and Harry sighed but obliged her. She nodded. "Very good job, Harry. Now, what was your question?"

Harry sat up straighter, preparing. "It's a hypothetical question." Professor McGonagall nodded in assent. "What if a muggleborn didn't know what magic was, but they kept doing it, and they tried to stop it?"

She paused, considering. "You mean, stop doing magic?" Harry nodded. "Well, they'd go to school and learn control. Then they'd stop using it accidentally." Harry shook his head.

"No, I mean, let's say they didn't want to do magic at all. Let's say they wanted it to get out of them. Is there a spell that can do it?"

McGonagall studied him carefully. "Why are you asking, Mr. Potter?" She sounded suspicious so he quickly back-pedalled, pulling out his already planned excuse.

"Well, what if there is a spell that can make you lose your magic? What if someone hits me with it?" He asked, making sure to sound worried enough and McGonagall relaxed.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Harry. There's no spell like that. Magic is a part of us, part of what makes us. You can never remove it, not completely. It's built into our very souls." Harry stopped himself from openly frowning. She said pretty much what Hermione had told him, except no DNA part. Wizards didn't really understand science.

"Okay. Well, thanks Professor."

She nodded before moving on to the next students and Harry sighed. Time to ask his last option.


"Professor?" Harry asked while in detention. Professor Snape didn't look up, but he inclined his chin ever so slightly, so Harry figured he was listening. "I have a hypothetical situation I need some help with."

The professor nodded. "What is it, Mr. Potter?" He sounded impatient but Harry continued, undeterred. He needed that opinion.

"Okay. Let's say someone wanted to get rid of their magic. How would they do it?"

Professor Snape's writing only slowed for half a second before it picked up speed again. "What do you mean, Potter?" There was something in his voice that made Harry hesitate, but he continued anyways.

"Well, let's say the person didn't want to be magical anymore. Like, they wanted to make it go away. Get rid of it. How would they do it?" He waited patiently while the professor sat there, silent.

"Why do you ask?" Professor Snape finally said, and Harry shrugged.

"I'm just curious. If magic pops up randomly in some muggles, how did it get there? And why? Does that mean it can go away?"

Professor Snape seemed to relax. "No, it doesn't mean that it can go away." Harry tried not to let his disappointment show.

"Not at all?" He asked, resigned, and his professor nodded.

"Not at all." The professor placed his quill down and clasped his hands together as he studied Harry carefully. Harry fidgeted slightly, not liking the look he was getting. "Is there something wrong, Harry?"

Harry, though startled that the professor used his first name, didn't answer. The man wouldn't understand. He smiled, feigning innocence. "No sir, I was just curious."

His professor didn't say anything right away but nodded after a few seconds. "Alright, Potter."


Harry hated Thursdays.

Only a week after the now-infamous flying incident in Slytherin House (dubbed the battle between the Boy-Who-Lived vs. the Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-Spoiled), they were back to their brooms, and Harry was dreading it. Not that he didn't enjoy flying, but he wouldn't put it past Draco to start another quarrel just on principle.

"C'mon, Harry," Theodore huffed, dragging Harry by his arm. Harry grudgingly stopped digging his heels into the ground and followed his friend to the quidditch pitch.

"I'm not looking forward to this," He said and Theodore sighed.

Blaise chuckled. "We know, Harry. You've been saying that all day," He said. Harry only looked up at the sky, his jaw clenched tightly.

"What if something happens again?" Harry whispered quietly. "What if-what if I lose control again, and they think I'm even more of a freak?"

"You're not a freak," Theodore said vehemently, his voice sharp. Harry didn't respond, didn't even look at him. "And nothing is going to go wrong, okay? Harry, look at me." Harry sighed and turned, meeting the other boy's intense gaze. He fidgeted uncomfortably. "We've got your back."

Harry ducked his head, the boy's passionate loyalty almost overwhelming. "Sure."

Luckily, Theodore and Blaise didn't try to prove their point any further, and they continued down to the pitch. Harry was glad that even though the temperature outside was in the single digits now, it wasn't gloomy or wet. It was a nice, sunny, and dry day, and he smiled lightly, letting himself relax.

"You look happier," Blaise commented, and Harry glanced over at the other boy, his face red as he flushed. Blaise smiled. "No need to be embarrassed. I think it's nice to see you like this."

Harry didn't know what to say so he remained silent, fixing his gaze on the horizon. He heard Blaise chuckle, but he didn't comment anything else. By the time Harry had returned to relative calm, they were finally at the Quidditch pitch, and he sighed heavily. Theodore patted his hand gently.

"C'mon, we can use these brooms," He said, guiding Harry to the other side of the pitch, away from Draco and his gang, who were already glaring fiercely at Harry. Harry followed Theodore, his head high. He stepped over the broom, his arms already shaking as he glanced surreptitiously at Draco. Theodore noticed his shaking and looked at Draco as well, his mouth set in a grim line. "You're a good flyer, Harry. No need to be nervous."

Harry didn't bother correcting Theodore, aware that the boy knew the actual reason why Harry was nervous, and only nodded. "Sure," He said breathily. He held out a hand and murmured quietly, "Up."

The broom took no time to fly up into his hand, and he exhaled sharply, his nervousness slowly getting replaced with anticipation. The darkness was also excited, stirring inside of him at the prospect of flying and the exhilaration it would bring. Harry liked how flying was almost like losing control, just a little, without fully releasing the darkness, and he knew the darkness felt less encumbered as well when he flew.

"Good job, Mr. Potter," Madame Hooch's voice cut through his musings. "Alright, class, I want you to follow Mr. Potter's excellent example and get your brooms."

Harry, feeling the attention of the other students on him, flushed, his grip on his broom tightening with his discomfort. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on his broom, stepping over the side and gripping the handle. He glanced over at Theodore, who gave him an encouraging smile, and the corner of Harry's mouth lifted up slightly. He kicked off the ground and flew up into the air, the darkness purring contently inside of him, and he grinned. Blaise appeared beside him, and Harry glanced over at the other boy.

"Where's Teddy?" He asked and Blaise pointed towards Madame Hooch. Theodore was standing in front of her, saying something, his broom in one hand as the other pointed towards the shed. Harry frowned but turned his gaze away, looking at the half dozen or so students that were still on the ground. Ron, who was one of those half dozen students, was trying to coax Hermione onto her broom and into the air, but Hermione didn't seem to be buying it. Harry felt the air shift around him, and Theodore was beside him in the next second.

He grinned and Harry caught sight of the ball he had behind his back. "Guess what?" Theodore stage whispered, and Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"Did you convince Madame Hooch to let us play with the quaffle?" He asked sarcastically, but Theodore either didn't notice his tone or decided to ignore it.

"Yep," He said, tossing the ball towards Harry, who only watched as the ball fell in front of him. The three of them watched the ball's rapid descent towards the ground, neither one of them moving to catch it. Theodore pouted. "Aw, Harry, you were supposed to catch that!" Harry only stared at the boy, confused.

"You never told me to catch the ball," Harry stated, shrugging. Theodore sighed and Blaise laughed.

"The quaffle." Theodore was clearly trying to handle this with patience, but Harry could see his eye twitching, and he knew that he had struck a chord. Harry could only stare at the boy, baffled.

"What's a quaffle?" He asked innocently, genuinely confused. The word rang a faint, obscure bell in his brain, but he could not recall what the object was supposed to be. From context, he figured it was that ball thing that Theodore had thrown, but it looked unlike any sport ball he had ever seen before. Theodore's mouth fell open in shock and he looked to be floundering about what to say. Harry waited for him to sort through his thoughts, hands placed in his lap. Theodore sighed and shook his head.

"Right, sorry, forgot you don't know quidditch," He muttered, overlooking the fact that he and Ron explained quidditch and all the rules and features to Harry plenty of times before. Harry was glad Theodore didn't remember because then he'd have to admit that he hadn't listened to them at all during their rants, and he didn't want to hurt his friends' feelings by not caring about a sport they clearly cared a lot about. Theodore turned away from them, holding onto the broom with his knees as he rooted around in his pockets. After a few seconds, he pulled out a small, golden ball. "Here, Harry. You can be the seeker."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Me? Why?" He asked and Theodore smiled, opening his hand. The golden ball sat on the palm of his hand, and Harry watched it nervously. It seemed to almost come to life, insect-looking wings unfurling from inside it, and it shivered before lifting off from his hand.

"Because," Theodore said, lifting his hand up as he threw the golden ball into the air. "I know you can find this better than any of us here." Harry tracked the golden ball with his eyes as it flew further and further away from them. He turned to give Theodore a look.

"I never said I wanted to play quidditch," He informed the boy and Theodore rolled his eyes.

"This is hardly quidditch. We only have three players, since Hermione and Ron are still on the ground," He said, gesturing to the Gryffindors, who had yet to start flying. "But I want to see if you can get the snitch."

Harry watched Theodore silently, who only stared back at him, a smug grin on his face. Harry sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" He grumbled and Theodore smirked, shaking his head. Harry sighed again and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But I'm only doing this once."

He didn't wait for Theodore to respond, spinning around in the direction he saw the snitch flying. He flew up high and let himself relax, focusing only on the feel of the air around his body and the way speeding through the sky made his entire body feel weightless, like he was the only one in the universe floating through nothing. He laughed, closing his eyes, and pulled his broom even more vertical to fly even higher. Once he got to the height he wanted, he pulled himself to a stop. His broom arched, for a moment hovering in the air, before he began to fall, and he felt his stomach drop, the same feeling he got from the roller coaster, but thousands of times better.

He let himself fall for a few seconds before flipping around and pulling up his broom, stopping his fall. He smiled, opening his eyes, and refocused on the task at hand. He scanned the field around them, not really knowing what he was looking for but searching anyways. His head kept darting around as his eyes caught the slightest movement, his body stiff with the focus and awareness he was exerting. Finally, after ten minutes or so, his eye finally caught a flash of golden movement to his right, 200 meters or so away. He didn't even have to think, crouching low and soaring through the air, twisting and turning as the snitch darted around.

He wasn't even sure how he managed to catch it, his thoughts and movements almost instinctive, but after a jarring turn and a roll on his broom, his hand curled around the golden snitch. The wings fluttered in his palm, and he held it gently as he flew back over to his group. Theodore and Blaise were gaping at him, though they weren't the only ones staring. Most of the class had seen his display and Madam Hooch was waving them over.

Harry, suddenly nervous, glanced at his friends, who were flying down to meet their professor. Harry, resigned, followed them, holding the snitch in one hand and guiding his broom with the other. The three of them landed in front of Madam Hooch, who had her arms crossed, an intense expression on her face.

"Well done," She said, turning to address him, and Harry shifted uncomfortably. She smiled lightly and he relaxed somewhat, more comfortable now that he knew she wasn't angry. "That was a phenomenal catch, Mr. Potter. You have a natural talent for flying."

Harry leaned back on his heels, eyes darting away. "Thank you," He murmured.

"If you tried out for Quidditch, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you would make the team. They have a seeker already, so you'd have to remain as the reserve seeker for this year until the next tryouts, but it seems to me you have a very good chance of playing for Slytherin." Harry looked over at her, eyes wide, and she smiled at him. "You have talent, and I don't say that lightly." Theodore had grabbed his arm, shaking it.

"Harry, you gotta!" He said excitedly. "You'd do so well! Flint might even let you play a game!" Harry frowned, looking over at Blaise, who didn't speak but had an encouraging smile on his face as well.

"No thank you, ma'am," He said, taking a slight step back from the woman and his friends. He held his broom tightly. "I'd rather just fly." Madam Hooch looked surprised but said nothing more, nodding instead.

"That is your choice, Mr. Potter," She said. "But I do hope you'll reconsider when you're older." Harry didn't reply, shrugging instead, and hopped back onto his broom, flying into the air. He could hear Blaise and Theodore taking off as well, and he stopped, hovering in the air.

"What was that?" Theodore asked once they had reached Harry. "Why don't you want to try out?" Harry shrugged. Theodore frowned. "Is it-is it because of what happened?"

Harry frowned. "They hate me." He looked around him at the rest of their Slytherin classmates. "Why would they want me to play for their team? Why would they want to cheer for me?" Theodore frowned obstinately.

"They'll see your skill and they won't care!" Theodore exclaimed but Harry thought he was grasping for straws. "C'mon, Harry, you've got a gift!" Harry rolled his eyes, turning to fly away. Unfortunately, Theodore also had a broom, and he darted in front of Harry. "You like flying, and it seems like you enjoyed chasing the snitch."

Harry glared at his friend. "They hate me, Teddy. Flint probably does too. Why would he want me on his team?" He flew forward, ignoring the look on Theodore's face, and his friends didn't follow.

He swooped through the air, twirling and rolling and going as high as he could before letting himself drop. He tried to forget everything – his problems with controlling his magic, the hatred from his peers, his family, his past – he tried to forget all of it, and although he couldn't forget completely, not with the darkness inside of him, he got close. He pulled his broom up and hovered, glancing back at his friends, and flew over to them.

"I'm sorry," He murmured. "I didn't mean to snap."

"It's alright, Harry," Theodore said quietly. "I shouldn't've pushed." He smiled softly at Harry, and Harry gave him a small smile back.

"If you did try out, Harry, it might be a way to get Slytherin back on your side," Blaise pointed out, and Harry scowled.

"What if I don't want them back on my side?" Harry muttered. "I don't care what they think." He clenched his broom, trying to keep his arms from trembling, and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, it was to Blaise staring at him, a contemplative expression on his face.

"I don't think that's true," He murmured. "You look like you care a lot." Harry shrugged haphazardly, wanting to get away from the questions and the curiosity of his friends.

"It doesn't matter, I'm not trying out." He glared at the two of them, as if daring them to object. Blaise still had the same thoughtful look on his face and Theodore was watching him as well before exchanging a look with Blaise. Harry sighed, turning away from them, but before he could fly away, Madame Hooch blew her whistle.

Harry sighed again, eyeing Blaise and Theodore, who had already flown over to Madam Hooch, and made his way over to them. He winced when he saw Theodore's expectant look.

"Sorry for snapping at you," He said quietly. Theodore only smiled, patting his arm reassuringly, and Blaise gave him a short nod, a flash of a smile on his face.

"It's alright, Harry," He said. "Just, remember, we're on your side." Blaise squeezed his shoulder and Harry stiffened, his stomach roiling. He swallowed down the emotions and nodded.

"Thanks, Blaise," He murmured, turning to look at Madam Hooch instead, uncomfortable with the emotions swelling inside of him. Blaise only chuckled knowingly but didn't comment.

"Alright, it's free time now, so I've got some quaffles to play with for those interested. However, I have a limited amount! You will all have to share. If there are any arguments or fights, I will take the quaffles and we will not be having free time anymore until I decide that you guys can handle it. Is that clear?" Madam Hooch ordered. Everyone nodded. She flicked her wand and four quaffles floated into the air. "If you would like one, please come see me!" While the rest of the students flew over to Madam Hooch, Harry and his friends flew away from the others.

Theodore was tossing the quaffle he still had in his hands into the air. "Ready for a real game?" He asked, grinning widely, and he let go of the snitch, which flew into the air and away. Harry watched it go before turning back to Theodore.

"I don't know," He said, but Ron had joined them now and he had an eager smile on his face.

"Oh, c'mon Harry!" He coaxed. "It's just us, it's not like we're going to make fun of you!" Harry frowned, not fully convinced. Ron frowned as well, inching closer to Harry, and lowering his voice to almost a whisper. "You don't have to be afraid, Harry. Nothing bad's going to happen. Everything'll be okay."

Harry took a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety still pumping through his veins away. "Okay," He said, barely above a whisper, but Theodore and Ron heard anyways and they whooped enthusiastically, flying away.

That left Blaise and Harry as a team, and Blaise looked at him with a smile. "Ready to kick their asses?" He turned to look at the other two. They were flying around, doing fancy moves and laughing. Harry grinned.

"Ready."


Harry stood outside of the door, taking in a deep breath. He debated calling sick and leaving, but that urge passed rather quickly with the knowledge that Professor Snape would see right through his excuse and Harry did not want to see the explosion that would follow. So, he squared his shoulders and knocked twice on the classroom door.

"Come in," Professor Snape said, his voice clear despite the door in between the two of them. Harry bit back a sigh and opened the door, walking silently over to his professor's desk. Professor Snape watched his approach with cold, calculating eyes. "Mr. Potter." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

Harry sat. "What are we working on today, sir?" He murmured and Professor Snape sneered.

"Don't sound so glum, Mr. Potter." He nodded at Harry's bag. "Get out some parchment, we will go over your potions essay." Harry instantly stiffened, eyeing the professor self-consciously.

"Potions?" He asked tentatively. Professor Snape scowled.

"Yes, potions." He glared. "Get your essay, Mr. Potter."

Harry bit back another sigh and reluctantly opened his bag, taking out his half-finished and ink-stained essay. He could feel Professor Snape's eyes burning into his skull. "Here," He murmured, placing the parchment onto the desk in front of them. Professor Snape didn't say anything, picking up his essay as he read it over with a shrewd eye. Harry bit his lip, shifting around nervously. After a few seconds, Professor Snape put his essay back down onto the desk. He didn't say anything at first, letting the tension build to make Harry stew. He scowled but reeled in his frustration when Professor Snape finally looked at him.

"Your points need more evidence to support them, and a cleaner parchment is needed for the final draft. You're not a slob, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said firmly. Harry nodded. "But it's a good start." Harry froze, waiting for the catch, but Professor Snape didn't tack in a 'but' or an insult. Harry gaped at him. Professor Snape sneered. "Don't let it get to your head, Potter. You're average at best, and that's not saying much, seeing the state of your peers." Harry smiled.

"Thank you, Professor," He said, taking back his essay and putting it into his bag. Average? Harry smiled. He had never been average – always the freak, the loser, the kid that every teacher passed over because there was no way he had anything intelligent to contribute, not after all the stories that had been told. No, Harry had always been far from average. He smiled again. Professor Snape scowled.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Potter, being ordinary is hardly an achievement," The man hissed. Harry did as he was told but didn't take the man's comments to heart.

"What should I work on now, Professor?" He asked instead, and Professor Snape paused, taking out a few books. One was on magical plants, the other was on curses and counter-curses, and the third was a book on a variety of potions and their qualities and effects. Harry looked at them with interest.

"I want you to read these three books for some more evidence to support your points made in your essay," He said and Harry nodded, taking the presented books. He opened them but Professor Snape held his hand up. "Not right now. You can read those on your own time." Harry paused, looking at the man skeptically.

"You're letting me borrow them?" He asked and Professor Snape nodded. Harry paused again, looking down at the books instead of his professor, his anxiety spiking. "Why?" Professor Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" He repeated. Harry nodded. The man studied him shrewdly, and Harry shifted, disliking the lack of emotions on the man's face. Harry would rather Professor Snape react the way he could predict. The man stared at him for a few more seconds before scowling. "It is not for you to question my reasons, Mr. Potter." His tone was angry, and Harry relaxed slightly at the familiarity while also making sure to keep his eyes focused on the man.

"Okay," He obliged. Professor Snape hesitated, a slightly shocked expression on his face, as if he was expecting Harry to put up more of a fight, but it was replaced with his usual scowl in the next second.

"Good," He snapped. Harry nodded, remaining quiet, and Professor Snape turned his attention to his papers, shuffling them around. Harry sat awkwardly in the silence that had fallen over them and he looked down at the arm of his chair, tracing the wood grain with his finger. "Madame Hooch told me about today."

Harry looked up then, startled. "She told you what?"

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. "She told me about your lesson today," He said and Harry stiffened, waiting for the punishment. For what, he wasn't sure, he didn't know he had done anything wrong, but there must have been something if Professor Snape was bringing it up. He only ever brought up things Harry had done if he was angry about it and wanted to punish him. "About the games you played with Theodore and Blaise." Harry chanced a nod, although unsure what he was agreeing to. Harry could feel the man's eyes on him, so he kept his gaze glued to the desk in front of him. "Are you interested in playing Quidditch, Mr. Potter?" Harry looked up then and he shook his head. "A real answer, Mr. Potter."

"No thank you," He said quietly, his gaze moving back to his hands. "I don't want to."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged, running his hand along his knee as it jiggled up and down. "I only like flying. I don't like to play," He said easily, shrugging once again. Professor Snape must not like his shrugging because he huffed.

"How can you know that you don't like playing? You've never played before," The man pointed out. Harry looked up at him then. Professor Snape was staring at him, his lips slightly turned up at the corners, and Harry shifted. He felt like he was walking into a trap, that any reason he gave now would be useless because it was all just an inevitable road to proving Professor Snape's point.

"I played with Teddy and Blaise," He said, not wanting to give in. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow.

"That hardly counts," He said and Harry gritted his teeth, looking away. "I was sure you'd jump at the opportunity for some more fame and popularity with your peers." Harry gave a brief shake of his head. "No? Not good enough for you?" Harry frowned, looking up at the man. Professor Snape was sneering now, a goading look in his eye, and Harry bit down on his lip, not wanting to fall for the trap.

"It's not that," He said, forcing his voice to remain calm. Professor Snape smirked. Harry bristled but kept his anger in check. "I don't care about fame, and nothing I do will make them like me."

"Is that so?" Professor Snape asked casually, like he wasn't really asking because he wanted to hear the answer, and Harry stiffened, feeling trapped again. He eyed his professor skeptically and Professor Snape stared back at him, his expression blank. The man stared for a few more seconds before pursing his lips contemplatively. "You know, your father played Quidditch for his House."

Harry felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped over his head, his muscles tensing almost painfully, including his heart. It felt like it was being squeezed by heavy cold chains, and he felt his throat tighten.

"My father?" He managed to choke out, barely a whisper. He didn't dare look at his professor. From what he had heard before – from what the man had screamed at him in anger – Harry knew Professor Snape hated James Potter. How was he supposed to trust anything that came out of this man's mouth in regard to his father?

"Yes, he was chaser, and later made captain," Professor Snape said. "Made sure everyone knew about how amazingly talented he was, quite the self-righteous showboat."

Harry let that information seep into him, warming his frozen body. He took a shaky breath. "He was in Gryffindor?" He asked, looking at his professor. The man gave him a bemused look, but it was gone quickly as he nodded. "I'm not in Gryffindor."

Professor Snape scoffed. "That's not something to be sad about," He sneered. "Regardless, you can still play Quidditch." Harry frowned, turning his gaze back onto his hands.

Everything inside him was protesting. Even besides the fact that Professor Snape obviously brought up this information about his father just to manipulate him (and that concerned Harry, because why would Professor Snape care that much about whether Harry played Quidditch?), Harry did not think Quidditch was a good idea. Rather than getting his peers to like him, which his friends and Professor Snape predicted would happen, it was more likely that his peers would hate him. They already thought he was a freak, an unstable boy with anger issues that got away with too much because he was the Boy-Who-Lived. Getting on the team as a first year would just make them believe all those things even more. That he was anything but normal.

Harry found himself shaking his head before he was even conscious of doing so, the anxiety too strong for him to be fully present, to focus properly. "I can't," He whispered.

Professor Snape frowned, studying him again, before nodding once. "If you're sure. But it would make your father proud, you know, even if you're not in his house," He said and Harry felt his heart clench painfully. He took a few steadying breaths. "Anyways, why don't you start on the books again." Professor Snape placed a piece of parchment down in front of him and Harry blinked rapidly, startled by the sudden change in topic. "Take notes of what you read and add it into your essay later. If you get confused, ask me to clarify."

Harry nodded, taking the book on magical plants. As he read, he forced himself to let thoughts about Quidditch and his father float away, and after a few minutes of reading, he didn't even have to force it.


"Harry, do you have your essay done?" Neville whispered from beside him. They were currently copying the instructions to the new potion they were learning to make down on their parchment. It was going to be a boring class today. Since this was a new potion, Professor Snape was having them write down the brewing steps and then he was going to quiz them on it for the next couple of lessons until they could recite it to him with no issues. But even then, they wouldn't get onto brewing for at least another week after that, because Professor Snape was going to go over all the safety precautions and rules again.

Harry could feel his mind drifting, could feel the boredom digging its heels in and fighting back against any hint of concentration and focus Harry had in him. Only the fear of seeing Professor Snape during tutoring sessions kept him engaged in the class.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, pretty much," He said, continuing to write even as he spoke. "He's helping me some during our tutoring sessions." He hastily crossed out the error he made and paused in his conversation to rewrite the sentence. Once finished, he continued. "You can borrow the books he lent me if you need some information."

Neville's eyes widened. "He let you borrow his books?" He asked, awed, and slightly terrified. Harry glanced at him, nodding with his eyes wide as well, just as shocked.

"I know, I don't know why," He said quietly and they both sent furtive glances at Professor Snape. He was marking some fifth-year essays and they were not doing well, based on how fierce a scowl he was currently wearing. He looked up then, meeting their eyes with a raised eyebrow, and the two of them ducked their heads sheepishly.

"Sure, I'll borrow them," Neville murmured. "Thanks."

Harry nodded and they turned back to their task until the end of class. Harry was glad when it was finally over. He packed his things, waving bye to Neville, but just as he was about to follow, Professor Snape called him over. Slightly apprehensive but determined not to show it, he walked slowly over to the professor's desk.

Professor Snape didn't stop marking, didn't even look up as he addressed Harry. "You will go to the Quidditch pitch after class today. Mr. Flint is running tryouts for seeker, and you will be there to try out."

Harry could only gape at the man. "Sir?" He squeaked. Professor Snape looked up at him with a scowl.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" He asked and Harry shook his head meekly. Professor Snape nodded and turned his focus back on his marking. "Good. You will go and you will try. If you don't, Mr. Flint will let me know." He gave Harry a threatening glare and Harry found himself nodding again. "Good. Now get out of here and go to the pitch."

Harry nodded once again and promptly left the classroom. Theodore and Blaise were beside him in an instant. They must have seen his stricken expression because they exchanged looks.

"What happened? What did he want?" Theodore asked and Harry huffed.

"He wants me to try out for seeker!" He practically whined, slightly embarrassing himself, but he pushed that feeling away, too anxious and frustrated to care. Theodore's eyes brightened and he broke into a huge grin.

"What? That's amazing!" He said and Harry scowled.

"No, it's not amazing, he's practically forcing me!" He protested. "I don't want to play Quidditch!"

Theodore frowned before looking around. "Then why are you leading us towards the pitch?" He asked. Harry's face fell despondently.

"Because Professor Snape's told Flint to report back to him about me and if I don't go, he'll surely know," Harry moaned, and Theodore giggled. Harry sent his friend a glare.

"Sorry, sorry," He said hastily. He laughed again and Harry scowled. "It's just, you look so devastated, it's like Professor Snape is sentencing you to the gallows."

Harry scowled again. "Isn't he?" He muttered and Blaise smiled, patting Harry on the back comfortingly.

"It'll be alright, Harry," He said. "They're not going to hate you. Besides, it's no guarantee anyways. All you need to do is try."

Harry heaved a big sigh. "Fine." Blaise grinned and Theodore thumped him on the back.

"That's the spirit."

They finally arrived at the pitch and Harry looked around. Madame Hooch was at the broom shed and Marcus Flint and another student were in the middle of the pitch. He glanced at Theodore and Blaise before making his way over to the two students.

Marcus saw him coming and eyed him up and down. He didn't look hostile, but he also didn't look friendly. His expression was cold and apathetic, actually. The other student was a different story entirely. The boy was openly glaring at Harry, and he could hear some muttered insults being sent his way. Harry winced but ignored the older boy, making his way to Marcus.

"Potter," The Prefect greeted. "Professor Snape told me you were coming." Harry nodded and Marcus rolled his eyes, gesturing to Madame Hooch. "Go get a broom and then come and report back to me."

Harry nodded again and walked over to Madame Hooch. She gave him a knowing smile, but Harry didn't return it, still slightly miffed that she had ratted on him to Professor Snape. With the broom, he made his way over to Marcus.

"Alright Potter, Higgs." So that was what his name was. Harry didn't think the other boy particularly liked him. He was just glad that Marcus didn't seem to hate him. "You'll be competing for the snitch while I throw bludgers at you. Whoever catches the snitch first wins." Harry gave a resigned nod, the only thing keeping him from leaving the tryouts was the threat of Professor Snape. It wasn't like he wanted to have bludgers thrown at him while he was doing something completely unnecessary.

He fought down a groan, muttering under his breath about meddling adults that thought they knew best. Higgs sent him a withering look and Harry turned, raising an unbothered eyebrow. Higgs' eyes narrowed.

"You're going down, Potter," He hissed, leaning forward as his hand not holding his broom clenched into a fist. Harry didn't respond, simply shrugging, and picked up his own broom, turning to Marcus.

"Alright, get ready," He said. The two of them mounted their brooms and Harry turned all his focus on the snitch in the Prefect's hands. He barely even heard Marcus' voice releasing them, kicking off the ground the second the snitch flew out of his hand.

Flying was blissful, like every other time Harry had done it, and he felt himself start to smile. At first it was a bit hard to dodge the bludgers while also chasing the snitch, and Harry had to roll out of the way of one, losing sight of the snitch as he did so. He mentally kicked himself, but he managed to recover rather quickly and after a few seconds of scanning the pitch, managed to see the snitch again. It was pure luck that he caught sight of the barely visible flicker of light coming from his right, and he leaned forward, pushing his broom until it was practically shaking in his hands from the speed it was going. He grinned.

Higgs, who had noticed the snitch a few minutes after Harry, was fifty meters or so behind him, but his broom was newer, faster and sleeker. He was right on Harry's heels in a few minutes or so, and Harry crouched even lower. Harry was never a competitive child, not really caring about accolades, fame, glory, or any of the other reasons people competed. He simply wanted to be left alone and get through the day. But for the first time in his life, he could feel the barest hint of competitiveness flickering inside of him. Not enough that he would be upset if he lost, but enough that he would be proud of himself if he did win. It was new for Harry and his smile grew bigger as he pushed his broom even faster.

The next moments when they made it to the snitch were a blur. Harry was aware of Higgs behind him and tensed, preparing to duck a blow or whatever else the other boy was planning to do to Harry when he was close enough. And it was good that he was prepared, because the bludgers were on them in the next second, and Harry and Higgs both had to pull away from each other and roll to avoid them, barely managing to avoid colliding with each other. Harry swerved around the goal posts and up and around the stands as he chased the snitch, ducking and rolling to avoid the bludgers as he did so. Luckily, he managed to keep his eye on the snitch through the chaos, his concentration narrowing down so that only the snitch was in his focus, everything else was peripheral, almost instinctual. He could sense Higgs behind him, but the boy wasn't doing as well with ducking around the obstacles and was now a few meters behind him. But all it would take would be for Harry to lose speed for a second or stumble around an obstacle once for Higgs to be able to catch up. Harry ignored the boy and focused his attention back on studying the snitch.

Although its pattern wasn't consistent, there still was a pattern to how the snitch moved – how many right turns it made before turning left, how long it would stay above the stands before ducking down again and vice versa, how often it turned around to change direction. After a few more minutes and a few miscalculations, Harry managed to dart to the right just before the snitch did, and in the next second, Harry's hand was closing around the small golden ball.

He felt the excitement and awe like a shock through his body and he immediately came to a stop, his eyes wide. He couldn't help the grin that lit across his face, even amid Higgs' cursing beside him. Marcus waved them over and they landed in front of the Prefect, who didn't say anything for a long while, studying the two of them. Harry didn't even think the boy was thinking about anything. He just wanted them to sweat.

"Higgs, you've been replaced," Marcus said and Higgs, who was getting increasingly agitated throughout the silence, finally burst.

"What the fuck?!" He snarled. "This was only supposed to be a test to see if he could be reserve! I'm seeker. You can't replace me." Marcus' expression darkened, his eyes flashing angrily.

"Not really a good way to speak to the captain when you're begging for a position on the team," He said, his voice silky and poisonous. Higgs scowled but didn't say anything. "And yeah, you were seeker. But Potter beat you, even when you have the better broom. So, you're clearly not the best."

"First years can't play," Higgs said through gritted teeth. Marcus rolled his eyes.

"I want to win the Cup, as does Professor Snape," He said. "He'll sign off on anything."

Higgs scowled at Marcus but didn't say anything in rebuttal, storming off instead. Marcus watched him go for a second with a contemptuous sneer before he turned his attention to Harry.

"Well done, Potter," Marcus said. "Didn't know you had it in you." Marcus was staring down at him, his expression betraying no emotions. Harry fidgeted but pushed his anxiety away. "Welcome to the team."

Harry smiled, and despite his fears, he couldn't help the pride from bubbling up inside him. "Thank you," He said quietly and Marcus finally made an expression, his mouth quirking into a grin.

"We just might beat Gryffindor with you on the team," He said and Harry nodded, eyes darting to Higgs, who was now a speck in the distance. Marcus followed his gaze and rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about him. It's not your fault that you're better." Harry didn't say anything, a sour feeling rising inside of him. Marcus didn't seem to notice or care that Harry didn't respond and turned to pack up the Quidditch supplies. He took Harry's broom as well. "Congratulations, Potter. Practice will be starting in two weeks." Harry nodded and Marcus smirked at him before heading towards the castle after putting away the broom and supplies. Harry stared at him until the older boy had disappeared into the castle before he started moving himself.

Except he didn't go to the castle. Instead, he went to the lake. He pushed his fear and anxiety away as he stared up at the broken tree, its trunk split slightly where the branch had been. Harry winced.

For the first time in his entire life, Harry was good at something. Like, actually good, enough that other people thought so too. And Harry wanted to be part of that something, wanted to continue to be good at that something, to get better.

And that terrified him.

He closed his eyes and felt the darkness rise from inside of him. He didn't open his eyes to see it, he could feel it around him, could feel it like he could feel his body in space. He still didn't like it. Didn't like how it felt, how it made him feel, but it wasn't as bad as it used to be. It wasn't gone – Harry didn't think it would ever be gone, it was as much a part of him as his heart was – but it didn't feel as overwhelming, or as all-consuming. It was like somehow it had subsided, like it was no longer a hurricane inside of him but a summer thunderstorm. Still there, still chaotic, but surrounded by something softer, kinder, lighter. Calmer.

Harry was glad about that because it meant he didn't have to fight to control it as much anymore. It was still hard but not as hard as before, and he thought he knew why. Hogwarts.

He opened his eyes, the darkness rumbling slightly in response to his growing fear and anxiety. Hogwarts was why it had changed. It had to be. That was the only thing that was new. But that meant that it was doing something good, that it was good he was here, and Harry didn't want that. If he liked it, if Hogwarts became important – if the people here became important – it would be even harder to let it all go. To leave. And Harry had to leave. He had spent the last month slowly getting comfortable, getting used to this – all this freakishness. He got good at believing he was normal, that he was like everyone else, and nothing was wrong.

But there was something wrong. He wasn't like the Dursleys. He wasn't even like the freaks. He was even more of a freak than the freaks. Harry could not stay, not with the risk that they would all find out. Harry needed to leave before that happened, before everyone saw him.

He took another deep breath and brought the darkness back inside him, his emotions pushed down and away. His worries melted away, replaced with determination, and he gritted his jaw, turning to make his way back up to the castle. By the time he was inside and at the library to join his friends in studying, he was calm.

"Heya, Harry!" Ron greeted and Harry smiled, taking a seat beside the boy. Theodore, Blaise, and Hermione were there too, and he greeted them as well.

"So, how'd it go?" Theodore asked and Harry winced, looking down at his hands. He heard Theodore sigh softly. "Oh no. Not good?"

Harry shrugged. "I made the team. I'm seeker," He said and Theodore's eyes widened, his mouth splitting into a wide grin. "I beat Higgs, so Marcus kicked him off and made me seeker."

"What? That's awesome!" He said. Harry didn't say anything. Theodore huffed and nudged Harry's shoulder with his own. Harry stiffened and shifted away. "C'mon, Harry. That's good!"

Harry still didn't say anything, looking away, but Ron managed to catch his gaze, his expression wide and excited. "That's so cool, Harry!" He said. "Wow, I can't wait to see you play!"

Harry frowned. "I'll be playing against your House team," He pointed out, but Ron shrugged, as if it made no difference. Harry felt his heart warm at that, and he smiled softly at his friend. "Thanks." Ron grinned, slapping his hand against Harry's back.

"Are you excited?" Blaise asked and Harry paused, considering his answer, before nodding slightly. Blaise smiled. "Maybe you should tell your face that." Harry winced but couldn't bring himself to smile and match his friends' excitement. Hermione took his hand.

"Good job, Harry," She said quietly, her smile soft, and Harry felt himself return her smile. He nodded.

"Thank you," He murmured. His friends, picking up on his mood and disinterest in making a big fuss over his accomplishment, moved on.

"Well, we're working on potions, so you can get your stuff out, Harry," Theodore said, his voice taking on his usual authoritative, lecture-y tone and Harry rolled his eyes but obeyed. "Now, you and Ron can work together, since you both still have a lot of work to do. Hermione, you and I-" Theodore continued on, but Harry tuned him out, turning to his messy but almost finished essay after sharing a commiserating look with Ron.

"They're like drill sergeants," Ron complained under his breath and Harry snickered.

"Shh," He said, his finger at his lips. "If they hear you, they'll get even bossier." Ron snickered as well and nodded.

"Anyways, I do actually need you to help edit my essay," He said and Harry nodded. They exchanged essays and Harry turned his focus on Ron's hastily scrawled but well researched and informative essay. "Hey, Harry." Harry paused in his reading, looking up to meet his friend's eyes. Ron bit his lip, looking nervous. "How are you really feeling, about being seeker? You just, well, you don't seem that excited. You kinda seem…scared."

Harry didn't say anything at first, his mind blanking. After a few seconds, he managed to put a coherent thought together. "I don't know," He murmured. "They already hate me. Higgs really does now. What's going to happen now that I've made the team?"

Ron paused, tilting his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he thought about it. "I don't know," He said. "But who cares what they think?" He scowled, eyes darting to some of Harry's older Housemates sitting across from them. "They're just a bunch of assholes." Harry didn't say anything. Sure, they were a bunch of assholes. But they were rich, powerful, well-connected assholes, whose parents were probably Death Eaters. Ron saw his expression and sighed, taking his hand. "Look, Harry, you're good at Quidditch. Obviously, since Flint chose you, and he doesn't seem like the bloke to choose someone if they're not good just because of their fame." Harry winced but nodded. "Once you play your first game and the others see how good you are, they'll understand."

"Sure," Harry murmured, though he still couldn't force himself to smile. Ron looked like he wanted to say something, his eyes narrowed in concern, but Harry continued before he could. "Ready to work on our essay?"

Ron paused. "You sure?" He asked. "We can still talk-"

Harry shook his head sharply and Ron nodded immediately. Harry forced himself to look at his friend, smiling gently to try and ease the tension. "I'm alright. Let's just get working."

Ron nodded. "Okay," He said.

Harry took a deep breath, putting on a pleasant smile as he pushed away the bubbling anxiety. "Okay."