Chapter 3:

Broomsticks and Bullies

"I just don't get it," Harry said. "Why does he hate me so much?"

Harry was talking to Ron over lunch. They had just had another double Potions class with Snape and in spite of Harry studying beforehand and rereading the instructions on the board at least twice, Snape had still given him ugly glares and made him feel like he was an half-wit.

Ron shrugged, reaching across the table for another serving of shepherd's pie. "Snape hates everyone. Fred and George get points taken away all the time."

Harry poked his fork at his food. Potions would have been hard enough without Snape. Harry had to face him three times a week and the Potions Master seemed to take great delight in giving out huge amounts of homework. Harry still had to write twelve inches of parchment on the benefits of the more poisonous forms of nightshades from Monday's homework.

Harry watched Snape get up from the teachers' table and leave the Great Hall. Harry compared him to Professor McGonagall. She also was stern and expected nothing less than everyone's full cooperation. However, she could also be kind and understanding. Harry had doubts about Snape even knowing what kindness was.

"I wouldn't worry about em, Harry," Ron said. "It's not like he's out to get you or anything."

But worry Harry did. With each passing hour he spent in Snape's dungeon classroom, it became increasingly clear that what Snape liked most of all was to humiliate Harry. Any little thing Harry did, whether he chopped his ingredients too finely or merely opened a jar too loudly was enough to have the professor snap at him. And if it wasn't Snape criticizing him, then it was Draco Malfoy. Ever since Harry had told Draco just what he thought of him, the blond-haired Slytherin took every opportunity of poking fun at Harry or his fellow Gryffindors. Harry wasn't sure which was worse: Snape or Malfoy.

Just when Harry hoped he would only have to deal with them in Potions, he learned about flying lessons with the Slytherins on Thursday. Just another opportunity to be sniggered at. Unless he could master a broomstick fast.

Ron was a bit nervous, Neville even more so, (having never been allowed near a broom), and even Hermione Granger was showing signs of nerves, which surprised Harry. But then again, being a Muggle she wouldn't have had a broomstick in the house, and flying also wasn't something you could learn out of a book. So in this way, everyone was starting off fairly equally.

The sky was clear and the air cool when Harry and the other Gryffindors walked out onto the grass on Thursday afternoon. It was perfect weather for flying.

The Slytherins and twenty broomsticks were waiting on the lawn. The Gryffindors scowled, but at least Snape wasn't teaching this class, Harry thought.

Harry felt his uneasiness strangely fall away as Madam Hooch told them all to stand by a broomstick. When Harry held out his hand, there was a surge of confidence through him.

"UP!" he commanded, like all the other students.

Instantly, the broom jumped into his hand.

It felt good. It felt right.

Harry grinned.

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Snape was striding through the courtyard when he saw it happen.

Madam Hooch hurried past him with a clearly injured Neville Longbottom, to which Snape shook his head. Longbottom seemed to create problems everywhere he went, whether he was on the ground or not.

Out on the lawn, Snape spotted a group of first years, waiting awkwardly by their brooms. One boy, whom Snape recognized as Draco Malfoy by his white-blond hair, had snatched up something from the ground with a haughty exclamation. Harry Potter said something. Malfoy laughed, then kicked off from the ground.

"Come and get it, Pottah!" Malfoy's voice challenged.

A beat and the other boy was in the air.

"No! Don't!" Hermione Granger cried.

Snape crossed the courtyard. His first thought was to call out both boys on their actions. Snape was never swift to take points from a Slytherin, but Malfoy was breaking the rules.

Then Malfoy threw a small round object high into the air.

Without any hesitation, Harry Potter sped after it. His hands clung to the broom handle, his eyes fixed on the object he was chasing. It dropped towards the ground and Potter dove, his hand outstretched, just like a Quidditch Seeker diving after the Golden Snitch.

His fist closed.

Right before Harry slammed into the side of the castle, he drew up and halted in midair perfectly without losing his balance, as if he had been flying all his life.

Screams mingled with cheers went up from the Gryffindors on the lawn as Harry drifted down towards them.

Snape stood in the courtyard shadows.

Was that possibly a spark of admiration in his chest? A tiny sense of awe at how naturally flying had come to the boy? Snape couldn't be sure. He was almost horrified to find such a thing inside him. He thought of another boy who had been a fabulous flier, another boy named Potter. It hadn't made him anymore likable in Snape's eyes, so there was no reason why this Potter should be either.

A door slammed and Professor McGonagall was pounding across the courtyard towards the lawn.

"HARRY POTTER!" she bellowed. "How DARE you- what were you thinking?!"

"He was provoked, Professor!" a girl spoke up.

"I don't care if he was," McGonagall retorted, her face flushed with anger. "It was a reckless thing to do."

"But, Professor-"

"Come with me, Potter."

She marched Harry off the lawn. He looked as if the world had just ended. Behind him, Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins were left smirking. Snape pushed aside any slight esteem he might have felt and heartily agreed with the Slytherin side of feelings.

† † † †