Chapter 12

Throughout the week, Harry experienced a refreshing change as the house refrained from chattering about him during breakfast. Instead, Daphne Greengrass had captivated their attention. The whispers intensified as Daphne repeatedly missed meals and eluded her housemates. Though Harry empathized with her predicament, he refused to allow it to hinder his preparations for the approaching tryouts.

The teen had not told his mentor what he was up to, and truth be told he was a little embarrassed to bring something as trivial as House Quidditch up to the Dark Lord. A small doubt in his mind also admitted that there was a chance he would not make the team even if he was the best player for the position.

On Saturday morning, Harry rose from a fitful rest with determination. He should have felt exhausted after tossing and turning all night, but instead, he felt a sense of adrenaline in his veins. Since his broom had arrived he heard whispers from not only his housemates, but others who had witnessed his first tryout. Most in the other houses spoke of his death wish, but his own house merely mumbled about Flint never allowing him to be on the team, no matter how good he was.

One of the traditions for Slytherin House was that every position was open to tryouts every year. At least for as long as Flint had been captain, he had hosted tryouts for each position, and this year would be no different. Harry knew that Draco was a favorite in the house, and had purchased brooms for the whole team, while also winning two of the three matches last year for Slytherin. He would be the best competition Harry imagined, but if he was as talented as he thought he was then perhaps Flint would allow Draco a spot at chaser. It was indisputable after all that the blonde ponce was a talented flier, just not as talented as Harry.

At breakfast, Harry did not allow his nerves to deprive him of his strength. Scooping a healthy amount of eggs and sausage on his plate, he hardly noticed that Blaise had sat down across from him looking less aloof than usual. Concerned would be an overstatement, but something was definitely off with Harry's classmate.

"Potter."

"Zabini." Harry greeted cheerily, "Sausage?"

The dark-skinned teen frowned at him, "I can't believe you are hungry."

Shrugging Harry said, "I will need my strength. I am sure more than a few unfriendly bludgers will come my way today at tryouts."

Grumbling about that being an understatement the teen leaned forward whispering, "I overheard Flint telling Bole and Montague to leave you with something a little more permanent today, since you didn't seem to learn your lesson the first time."

Harry frowned at the information, but shook his head, "I can't say I am surprised, but if they do anything too malicious, I will make them regret it."

Blaise blinked at the threat, as Harry stuffed some scrambled eggs into his mouth, and his fellow Slytherin hissed back, "Have you officially lost it? Flint is a seventh year! The Quidditch Captain. He is practically untouchable. He is practically King Snake."

Scoffing Harry asked, "King Snake?"

"You've never heard the term?" Blaise asked in surprise.

Shaking his head the darker teen sighed, "It's the leader of the house usually. Sometimes due to power or popularity. From what I have heard his is mostly popularity, but he is in NEWT Defense, and Charms, so he can't be a dunderhead."

Shrugging Harry muttered back, "King Snake or not, I will not allow a repeat performance from last time. I may not be strong enough to beat Flint and his little friends, but I am crafty enough to make them regret it."

"You're crazy." Zabini declared leaning back in his seat, "Not that I am shocked by this revelation. Just try not to get killed out there."

Rolling his eyes Harry said, "If I die today, I promise your favor to me is forgiven."

Blaise looked more pleased by the prospect than Harry would've preferred, but after cleaning his hands, Harry rose to his feet, and summoned his broom that sat at his feet, to his hands.

Before he walked away however he turned to Blaise saying, "Thanks for the heads up by the way. It may not have been completely unexpected, but I still appreciate you sharing it with me."

The ebony-toned teen just nodded in return, and went back to his breakfast. For his part, Harry didn't spare another glance as he carried himself to the grounds and towards the pitch. His heart was in his stomach internally, but externally he held a fake smile on his lips. It was a similar look that Tom walked around with, and he hoped that by emulating the Heir of Slytherin it would bring him good fortune.

The pitch already had several members of his house warming up around the area, and in a large group of older Slytherins Harry immediately spotted the tall and imposing form of Marcus Flint. Deciding to confront the problem head-on, Harry walked over to the teen with his head held high, and greeted him easily, "Captain Flint, where would you like the Seekers to warm up for tryouts?"

Flint had not been facing him before, and was oblivious to Harry's arrival. When he turned to see Harry standing there with a brand new broom, he had a look of genuine surprise, "You know I had heard you had a new broom, but I had told the others there was no way you would be back here again. I don't know if you are suicidal or crazy."

"Let's call it crazy." Harry said easily, "I know last time didn't go my way, but I was much smaller then, and didn't have a half-way decent broom. Things are different this time."

Frowning Flint seemed surprised by the civility in Harry's tone. The Captain glanced back at his friends who were all grins, which seemed to cement the acceptance for Marcus who now had an insidious smile on his face, "Of course, Potter. Seekers can line up over there for now. Good luck out there, and I hope you don't get as hurt as last time."

"Don't worry about me, sir." Harry said with a grin of his own, making the boy look uneasy now, "I will be just fine."

As Harry lined up with the other Seeker hopefuls, a nervous energy buzzed around him. He noticed Draco standing a few feet away, a smirk playing on his lips. A competitive edge burned inside Harry, and he committed himself to making the pompous blonde swallow his pride today. The easy way or the hard way.

The Slytherin Captain, Flint, approached the group, his eyes lingering on Harry with a barely concealed malice."Alright," Flint's voice boomed across the pitch, "Today, we'll be testing your speed, agility, and most importantly, your ability to catch the Snitch. Remember, only the best will make the team." He paused, his gaze fixated on Harry. "And some of you are more likely to end up in the hospital wing than on the team."

A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the group, but Harry's expression remained unchanged. He met Flint's gaze head-on, his determination unwavering while also holding a touch of defiance. The whistle blew, signaling the start of the tryouts, and Harry kicked off into the air, his eyes scanning the sky for the elusive golden Snitch.

The air whipped past Harry's face as he soared through the sky, his broom a smooth extension of his will. The Nimbus 2000 was a work of art in comparison to the old brooms he had learned to fly on. With the gap being smaller between the quality of the broom that was in his hands vs the rest of his house, he was confident he could make his opposition's head spin.

Harry wasn't sure where the newfound confidence was coming from, but he felt unstoppable as he cut through the sky. This feeling only heightened when he spotted the golden blur across the pitch. In his peripheral vision, Harry spotted Draco, the blonde boy, a blur of silver and green as he too bounded after the Snitch.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Harry's veins, fueling his determination. He wouldn't let Draco, or anyone else, outshine him today. Suddenly, a bludger whizzed past his head, missing him by inches. Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He knew it was no accident. Flint and his cronies were making good on their threats. Gritting his teeth, Harry weaved through the air, his eyes darting around for the next attack. He wouldn't be a sitting duck. He was a Slytherin, and he would fight back with cunning and skill.

His brain quickly augmented a scenario that would've made Tom proud as he slowed his descent after the snitch. Draco seemed to gain on the golden ball as it whizzed down, but Harry planned to use the other Slytherin's dirty tactics against them.

At the clang of the beaters bat against the iron bludger, Harry whirled his broom with all his strength and smacked the ball off his flight pattern directly at Draco, nailing the boy in the back of his shoulder, and unseating him from his broom. From that point, Harry didn't hesitate to dominate the lesser competition in the chase for the snitch.

He could hear Flint roaring at his beaters as Harry swooped in unchallenged to grab the golden ball. When he held it in the air in triumph there was a smattering of applause from the stands. The young Slytherin knew he was an unpopular face among the students, so accepted any amount of praise he could take with gratitude. Flying towards Flint, he tossed his captain the snitch and shrugged, "Best 2 of 3 Captain? Just like last time?"

Growling Flint was red in the face. Harry wasn't sure if that was because he hurt Harry, or if it was because the Captain's plan seemed to have blown up in his face in front of the rest of the house. Flint had his broom in an iron-type grip as he said, "Yes, of course. Best two of three."

In acceptance Harry offered what could've been construed as a sarcastic bow, and with a quick whirl he was back to climbing the skies to survey the pitch. The excited chattering from the stands seemed to be growing, which only seemed to make Harry's heart pump a little faster. A feeling of euphoria passed through Harry as he realized this was something he was born to be good at. Sure he was good at magic, and as the apprentice of Lord Voldemort, he was going to do amazing things through the blood, sweat, and tears, but this was in his blood. Flying was a natural ability, and it may not have been his future, but there was something about this feeling that was beautiful.

The second round began with a palpable tension in the air. Flint, his pride wounded, glared at Harry with unconcealed animosity. The beaters, Bole and Montague, exchanged grim looks, their intentions clear. Harry knew this round would be even more challenging than the first, yet something inside him begged for the challenge.

Draco was back in the air, but he looked dazed as he flew around trying to appear normal. The other competitors were hardly worth mentioning, because Harry knew they were irrelevant in this contest. Draco had likely received Quidditch lessons from the time he was old enough to sit on a broom, while these others were here for the ideal of glory. It was a foolish hope that they couldn't compete against two talents in the sport, and Harry released a breath of ease as he searched for the snitch.

As the Snitch was spotted, Harry shot off like a bullet, his eyes locked on the golden prize. However, he was keenly aware of the Bludgers hurtling towards him, their menacing shadows growing larger. With lightning-fast reflexes, Harry dodged and weaved, his broom in a blur of motion. He could hear the beaters cursing as their attacks missed their mark. The older Slytherin boys would be scrambling to get back to their bludgers, but Harry had every intention of swiping the snitch before that would come to fruition.

To the credit of Draco, the blonde was on his tail, and gaining distance on his superior broom. This didn't unsettle Harry as much as it excited him. Adding to the boy's skill, Harry noted the teen did not try to bump him. Clearly, Draco remembered that Harry had sloth rolled under Terrence Higgs, and nearly injured the older experienced flier in his first-year tryouts. Instead, Draco remained focused and attempted to dial into the snitch.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Marcus Flint with a beater bat. In his pursuit of the snitch he had lost track of the bludgers, but he wouldn't be stopped now. He heard the pounding of the iron bludger, but as he reached out for the snitch he felt his fingers close in around the tiny golden ball, before the impact of the iron ball struck him in the lower back.

Grunting in pain Harry dove towards the ground to ensure he was not struck again, and if he was he knew he would have less of a fall if he was closer to the ground. Much to his surprise, no other bludgers came his way. When his feet touched the ground he raised the snitch once again, despite the soreness in his lower back. Nothing felt broken, but he was certain he would have a nice black and purple bruise the next day.

Flint soared down to where he was hovering a few feet off the ground above Harry. His face had a cold look of indifference on display, "The results for tryouts will be posted on Monday in the Slytherin Common Room."

With a nod of understanding Harry dismounted his broom, and said nothing to antagonize his future Quidditch Captain. Instead, he turned towards the locker room, and with his head held high walked off the pitch to another smattering of applause. As Harry walked off the field a feeling of triumph passed over him. It hardly even mattered if Flint selected him or not. The entire house had seen his skill. They all knew now with certainty that he was the most skilled seeker, and the most deserving of the position. If the Captain chose not to give him the spot, it would be the wrath of Slytherin that he would have to deal with.

.o.

After Harry had showered, and made his way back to the castle he spotted Blaise with his arms crossed leaning against a wall in the courtyard just outside the Entrance Hall. The teen grinned at his appearance saying, "That was a hell of a performance out there, Potter."

"We will see if it was enough to get me cursed in the Common Room tonight." Harry jabbed jokingly.

This actually made the olive-skinned teen laugh, "I know where I would put my money. I think Malfoy wanted to curse you in the back as you walked off the pitch. It looked like he went ahead and tried out for Chaser, as if he was resigned to his fate."

"I wouldn't put it past Flint to deny me a spot out of pure spite." Harry admitted, "Malfoy may still be our starting seeker against Gryffindor."

Scoffing Blaise shook his head, "Too many witnesses to what happened today. Flint would look like a fool if he benched you, or didn't even offer you a spot on the team. At worst he offers you a spot in a different position, to cater to Malfoy. From the way you smacked that bludger with your broom, you probably would have done alright as a chaser."

"It's what my dad played." Harry muttered, mostly to himself, but Blaise caught it.

Instead of responding wittily as he usually did, Blaise paused, seeming to think his words over, before saying quietly, "Is that why you tried out? Despite knowing the target on your back was only going to grow from this?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the teen who seemed to be the only potential ally in his house so far, before deciding to be honest, "Partly. I also needed to prove to them that I wasn't the same weak little boy they put in the Hospital Wing two years ago. I needed to prove it to myself as well."

Blaise nodded, and Harry couldn't read the look on his face, but it seemed approving, when he smacked Harry on the shoulder, "Well you will avoid the Hospital Wing via Quidditch, but let's see if you can avoid it when they attempt to duel you in the Common Room."

Snorting, Harry shrugged, "If they duel me in the Common Room they can't hurt me too much. I would be much more worried about them catching me in between classes or deep in the dungeons where no one is around."

This caused Blaise to frown at the thought, and said nothing as he followed Harry back to the dungeons in silence.

.o.

The evening of his Quidditch tryouts Harry had wandered off to an abandoned classroom under the guise of his invisibility cloak. Once he had arrived undetected he had planned to write to Tom informing him of what he had been up to, and what his motivations were for doing so. He was uncertain how his mentor would feel about him trying out for the Slytherin house team, but he also knew the Dark Lord was aware of his shortcomings. If he was going to make allies, and be a more friendly, approachable face, he needed to go about a different way than Tom had.

Harry was not nearly as charming as Tom was. From just watching the young Dark Lord interact with even muggles, who Harry knew Tom was disgusted by, he was still endearing. This was not a skill Harry had developed so far. Zabini was likely the person he tolerated the most in the entirety of the school, and he could still tell by the look on his begrudging ally's face, that Harry was not being very approachable.

Harry was uncertain of how long it would take Tom to write back, but while he waited the young Slytherin delved into his study of curses. His repertoire was growing, but he was still in need of dueling partners. Part of him was still firmly against the idea. He preferred to work alone. Harry knew his own capabilities, and could rely on himself to get tasks done no matter the difficulty. If he invited others into his training circle, then not only would he end up teaching more than he would be studying, but he would also constantly worry about his allies using his own teachings against him. The teen could only imagine what Dudley or his friends would've done with a wand, and the thoughts caused a shiver to run down his spine.

It was a sickening feeling knowing there was still a part of him that feared not only his cousin, but his other muggle relatives as well. Tom had taught him to defend himself. No muggle was a match for him at this point, yet still, the fear lingered. It was something he knew he would one day have to conquer, but he was unsure how he would do so. The Quidditch issue with his housemates seemed to finally be behind him, and he had only solved that through confrontation. Not the most Slytherin approach perhaps, but to leave his adolescent fears behind, he would do what had to be done.

Perhaps Tom can offer me some insight over the Summer. Harry thought to himself.

The book in his lap began to heat up, and Harry glanced down at the pages, where a single dark word was written, 'Apprentice.'

Harry wasted no time in bringing his mentor up to speed. He did not wish to mince words or beat around the bush. Tom had expressed how valuable his time was, and did not wish to drag it on any longer than necessary.

'You have done well. Do not allow this to affect your studies.

I have seen your memories of Marcus Flint as well.

Do not expect him to take your appointment to the team without discrepancy.

Tread cautiously.'

Harry knew Tom was right. He would not allow his victory to overshadow his intelligence and survival skills. He would be prepared if the older Slytherins came for him, and he may not be able to beat them, but with Tom's teachings, he would make them respect him.

.o.

Harry had likely never been so welcome in Slytherin House as he had been the day after his tryouts. Lots of the students below fifth year seemed to think he was the best Seeker in the school, and had a good chance of leading Slytherin to the house cup this year. He was grateful that his newfound popularity hadn't led to an abundance of company, but still, he was greeted in a much friendlier capacity as he walked around the school and even the Common Room.

His studying in the library had run late that Sunday night, and he yawned as Madam Pince warned him that curfew was minutes away. Putting away his books with haste, Harry flicked his wand towards his notes, summoning them to a neat pile, and placing them in his book bag.

The halls were deserted by the time Harry had crossed through the library annex and began his descent into the dungeons. A sense of unease passed through Harry suddenly as he realized exactly how quiet it was around him. His eyes shifted and he felt a tension cross his body as he attempted to carry himself faster toward his Common Room, towards safety.

The grand stone archways loomed, casting long, eerie shadows that danced and twisted in the flickering torchlight. Each step echoed through the empty corridors, a lonely rhythm in the silent night. A chill clung to the air, whispering ghosts and portraits in the nearby corridors seemed to speak conspiratorially of him. A prickling sensation crawled across Harry's skin, the feeling of unseen eyes watching his every move, lurking in the darkness just beyond sight.

He knew it was coming before he even heard the murmur of a spell behind him. In a swift motion, Harry rolled to the floor like a gymnast, and shot back up to his feet ready to fight. His wand was in his hand and it sparked in warning to his stalkers in the night.

With a flick of his wrist, Harry sent the bombarda charm searing down the hallway. The spell ripped apart the ground in front of him, and the only thing that protected his attackers was the raising of two shields that barely put a stop to his spell.

Unfortunately for his attackers, the shield was luminescent and highlighted the faces of three familiar older students. Lucian Bole, Graham Montague, and of course, the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, stood before him.

Instead of giving the three a chance to fight back, Harry whipped his wand backwards pulling the three off balance with the summoning charm. With a quick flex of his wrist his wand swirled and a stunner tagged Montague in the face viciously crumbling the boy.

Before Harry could jump on the other two, Flint proved he was not completely incompetent by sending a large blasting hex back at Harry, forcing the teen to shield.

A brief lull occurred in the spell casting, and Harry growled feeling like a cornered animal as he snarled out, "Evening Captain. Or is it presumptuous of me to call you that?"

Flint glared at the teen as he glanced at his downed friend, before speaking in a chilling tone, "You know that the Heir of Slytherin threat last year was pretty good. Enough to keep us away until we investigated the matter further. You should've known our families would have contacts in the Ministry that would discover the truth though."

Remaining poised and ready Harry taunted, "You should've seen the looks on your faces."

Flashes of anger crossed the older Slytherin's faces. While Bole chided, "If you weren't such an arrogant little sod, you would make a hell of a Slytherin."

"What can I say? I am all sorts of stubborn." Harry taunted, before flashing his wand in the direction of Lucian Bole with a silent stunner.

The spell bounced off the older boy's shield, while Harry shot his wand across his body with a blistering bone breaker that pierced through Flint's shield. The boy roared in pain, dropping his wand, while Harry slid his head under a purple hex that shot from Bole's wand.

Tom had cast spells at Harry with ridiculous levels of speed, and Harry had managed to defend himself. Harry attempted to capitalize by attacking Bole, but Flint reached his wand faster than the younger Slytherin gave him credit for. The piercing charm that went through his shoulder caused him to grit his teeth when he felt the warm feel of blood begin to trick down, but he didn't let that distract him.

Despite his wound, two attackers at once were hardly even slowing Harry down as he casually switched between shields and dodges.

While Harry was defending himself he struck Bole with a blasting hex to the chest, making the boy slam into the wall knocking down a portrait that was screaming silently for help. Harry had to give the older Slytherins a small fraction of credit, at least they thought to silence the portraits. This subtracted the possibility of help coming, but with all the noise the 3rd year Slytherin was making, help was inevitable.

Harry may have landed a clean hit on Flint, but despite his injury, and his two downed friends, the Slytherin Captain showed no signs of giving up or retreating. With decisiveness, Harry was deflecting his spells with ease, and he grew into a comfortable defensive pattern as he considered how he would beat the older student.

When it was three on one his task was to escape. Now he felt invincible. He had already beaten two of them, and despite the blood pouring from his shoulder, the pain only spurred him on. Harry wanted to give Flint a little gift for all the pain he had caused him over the years.

Deciding to delve deeper into his book of tricks Harry took off into a run as he ducked under two curses that were aimed high. Barreling around the corner Harry quickly used the disillusionment charm. It had always felt like an egg had been cracked directly over his head, with the cold egg yolk dripping down his back, but Harry waited patiently, hoping that Flint would pursue him.

Tom had told Harry that his disillusionment charm wasn't very good, but in this dark corridor, he knew it stood a chance. Heaving for breath as they entered the corridor, Flint roared out, "Where did you go, Potter?"

His wands swept the area, but Harry didn't wait long.

"He's right behind you, you fool!" Bole groaned as he staggered around the corner.

Flint turned just in time to see Harry's fist connect with his face. The blow sent Flint sprawling to the ground, dazed, and Harry moved his head out of the way just in time to avoid Bole's stunner. In return Harry disarmed the older Slytherin with a quick flick of his wand, catching him by surprise. Summoning Flint's wand to his hand Harry pointed his wand back and forth between the two older students threateningly.

"Where did a jumped-up little Mudblood like you learn to duel like that?" Flint said through gritted teeth.

Savagely Harry snapped the wand in his hand drawing outraged cries, before saying, "You would be shocked to learn the truth, Flint. I told you last year that if you wanted to hurt me, you better kill me. Basilisk or not, I hold the wand now."

"This isn't over." Flint said fury alight in his eyes.

Vindication surged through Harry. He had believed himself years away from defeating the group that bullied him, but in a few short months under Tom's tutelage, he had thrived. Of course, he had caught Montague unprepared, and obviously, Flint underestimated him, which caused Bole to get pinned down in surprise, but still, he had been the one to end up on top.

"You're right." Harry said, a cruel smile appearing on his face, "It's not."

Harry sent the bludgeoning curse directly at Bole's stomach area, knocking the teen down, while flipping his wand towards Flint forcing him against the wall painfully. Stomping towards the seventh-year Slytherin Harry growled out, "You put me in the Hospital Wing for two weeks last time? Should I return the favor? Maybe I should leave something a little more permanent to remind you not to mess with me."

The threat obviously sounded convincing because where Flint had been looking at him with rage, a flash of fear now crossed his eyes. The elation made Harry's fingers tingle with adrenaline spiked into his bloodstream. He felt on fire, invincible. The shadows seemed to thicken in anticipation as Harry pondered if he could use the spell Tom had taught him to use against the dementors.

His magic must've been reacting to his train of thought, because he could feel the temptation of the spell beginning him to be released. Revenge could be sweet.

"Please, I'm sorry." Flint whispered softly, "We were just having a laugh."

"Right, because I was laughing so hard during my time in the Hospital. All I wanted was to play Quidditch and be left alone." Harry spat furiously, "This is your final warning. Cross me again, and I will bury you."

Flint's eyes narrowed, and Harry sensed the defiance. At this, Harry stepped back several steps before unleashing a blast of ice from the ground, and shard pressed mere inches from Flint, "Say it's over. You don't want me as your enemy, Flint. End this, or pay the price."

"Potter!"

A voice roared from down the hall. Before Harry's brain could place the voice his wand was whipped from his hand. Harry's head turned and his stomach dropped as he saw a furious Professor Snape storming towards him.

(A/N) Vengeance is sweet. I think our older Slytherins are lucky the residents potion master stepped in when he did, or Harry might have left them with something more permanent.

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