A/N Thank you for the reviews so far! I've seen a couple of people concerned that the story has followed the original plot too closely so far. All I'll say is that integrating an original character into this world won't make wholesale changes straight away but you'll start to see bigger divergences, including this next chapter. So enjoy reading!

"What even is quidditch?" Harry asked as the three of them made their way down to the Hogwarts greens for their first flying lessons. The flyers had gone up in the common room that morning, promptly followed by excited chatter from his fellow first years. Ron Weasley, in particular, could talk about nothing else, even when they were in other lessons (much to the annoyance of Hermione). Harry, meanwhile, had absolutely no idea what the fuss was about. He had never been much into sports back in the Muggle world, mainly down to the fact that the Dursleys hadn't given him the opportunity to get involved with any clubs. They had tried to encourage Dudley to exercise and partake in sports but they would have had more luck making him happy with just five presents on his birthday.

"You know what football is, right?" Matthew said in response. He had a tendency to gesticulate with his hands when he was talking, an act he was doing right now. "Well, it's just like that. Except there's only seven players on each team. And four balls to keep track of. You're obviously flying too, which is quite a bit different. Oh, and the goals are actually three large hoops at either end of the pitch."

"You're making that up!" Even from what he'd seen so far, that was too ludicrous to believe. Why had they made it so complicated?

"I don't tend to kid, Harry." He scrunched up his nose as they walked. "I'm not a fan of the sport really. I find it's tedious and quite repetitive. But if I said that in public...let's just say it would probably start a rather heated fight. Wizards are very protective and proud of their major pastime."

Harry looked over to Hermione, wanting to ask her opinion on the subject, but found that she was too busy quietly muttering things under her breath, completely oblivious to their conversation. He had seen her like that a few times when they were doing homework together in the library. Her face was screwed up in concentration, her arms hugging her chest tightly. He was surprised that she was still remembering how to walk at the same time. He doubted that he had ever thought about something so intensely.

"Hermione, are you okay?" His question had Matthew glancing at her curiously, evidently having grown used to her unique tendencies over the weeks they'd been together.

It also had the effect of snapping the girl out of her furious concentration and, when she realised that they were both looking at her, she blushed a deep crimson. "It's nothing. There's no need to worry about me."

"What were you saying to yourself just then?" There was a slight smirk on Matthew's face but his tone seemed to convey a seriousness that surprised the other two. It was like he wanted her to know she could be truthful in front of them, free from judgement. Their private discussion the other day had opened his eyes to the way she had been treated in the past and he wanted to do his best to avoid the same behaviour.

Hermione couldn't meet their eyes, instead putting all of her attention on the path underfoot. "I was...reciting a flying textbook I found in the library. It gave all of the instructions on how to do it properly and I thought...if I memorised everything...then maybe I won't spectacularly fail at this."

"What makes you think you'll fail?" Harry retorted. "You've aced everything you've faced so far. What's so different about flying?" He couldn't believe that he was talking so nonchalantly about actually flying . Maybe that had something to do with her anxiousness. She was a muggleborn after all. There were bound to be things that freaked her out, just like he had experienced.

"The one thing I've never been good at is physical activity. The only times I dreaded in school were P.E and lunch time. You don't get hurt reading books. I doubt I'll be any better at this, especially since I'll be floating in the air ." She blanched just at the thought. "There's only so much you can read on the topic and most books claim it mainly comes down to skill and innate ability. There's no chance of me having any of that."

It was the first time Harry had seen her act without any confidence. She was normally so assured in herself that it was strange to see the mask slip. But perhaps he was starting to realise it was a facade, a defense mechanism designed to prevent people from doubting her talents.

"You don't have to be good at everything," Matthew told her. "For example, I have quite a knack for badminton but, put me in a game of table tennis, and I'll miss the ball every time." They were fairly sure he was quite mad but it was entertaining nonetheless. "But that's okay. Because I don't care about table tennis so I can laugh about it. I don't care about quidditch so, if it turns out I can fly, then it's a nice thing to know but it's not going to change my whole perspective on life. You're the same. You just need to be a little more...carefree."

"What if I fall off though?"

"I've heard the Weasley twins talk about how good Madam Pomfrey is in the hospital wing," Harry reassured her.

"No, not that. Magical healing is incredibly advanced. Breaking a bone here is like getting a scratch in the Muggle world. I'm not worried about hurting myself." Hermione was visibly frustrated that they weren't understanding properly, that she was being forced to admit this out loud. "What if...the other students laugh at me? They'll taunt me for being rubbish."

"If that happens, and I'm sure it won't come to that, then I'll fall off my own broom as well. That way, they'll be laughing at me instead." Matthew seemed rather proud of his fool proof plan.

Harry wanted in on the act too. "I'll fall off too. If people see the Harry Potter having an accident, no one will talk about anything else. Your slight mistake will go unnoticed."

"You don't have to do that for me," she said, though they could see a small smile lighting up her face.

"You're right," Matthew replied. "We don't have to . But we still will. I could do with a bump to the head anyway. It might finally knock some sense into me."

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When they reached the training grounds, Harry was far from pleased to see that the lesson would be done alongside the Slytherins. His worst experience at Hogwarts so far, the dreaded Potions class, had occurred with them in attendance too and he was in no doubt that there had to be a correlation somewhere. Draco Malfoy was already there, as always flanked by his two goons. Harry was sure that they would physically attach themselves to the blonde-haired ferret if it were possible and he asked them to. He had a smug smirk on his face, which appeared to be a permanent fixture amongst his features, as his house mates surrounded him. As they walked over to where the Gryffindors were standing, having left a suitable amount of space between their rivals, the three of them were able to overhear snapshots of his gloating.

"I've always been good with a broom," he was saying, making Harry roll his eyes. Of course...he had to be good at everything after all. "If it wasn't for the blasted first-year rule preventing me from being on the quidditch team, I would have been picked as soon as that manky old hat went near my head. I bet Father is convincing the other governors to bend the regulations for me as we speak. He can be very persuasive."

Harry chuckled at that, unable to stop himself, and Draco seemed to hear him as he sent a dark glare in his general direction. Before an argument could break out, Hermione was putting a soft yet firm hand on his back to guide him away. Flying on brooms was one thing; doing so whilst fending off someone with ill intentions was practically a death wish.

Moving away from that potential incident, Harry could instead focus on the task that faced them. Unassuming brooms had been placed on the grass ahead of their arrival. To him, they looked like nothing special. How they flew, he wasn't able to comprehend, but that was commonplace since coming to this school. He had been dragged into a conversation by the Weasley twins the day before, where they had complained at length about the quality of the school brooms, claiming they vibrated and sometimes swung violently to the left. The major thing that concerned him, as well as falling off (Hermione's concerns had only served to eat away at his reckless optimism), were how incredibly uncomfortable they looked. Dudley, along with his friends, had beaten him with sticks once under the pretence of it being a game. With how painful that had been, Harry didn't exactly want one in between his legs either. A phantom ache swept across the lower portion of his body in anticipation. Maybe it would be a good thing if it turned out he couldn't fly. He'd be bow-legged within a month otherwise.

Their instructor was standing on the grass too, impatiently tapping her foot as the class slowly mingled into earshot. She had a severe, pointed face with the strangest of eyes. They looked like they glowed with fire, they were that bright and Harry wondered whether she was the best person for the job. One look at a broom and surely it would combust into flames. Her black robes billowed in the slight breeze and he pictured her being able to fly without any assistance, floating like a menacing shadow. Professor McGonagall was the only other teacher who had the ability to scare him with a single look (Snape preferred to use biting words instead to attack him).

"Right," she barked after a short while. All of the students immediately stood still and looked towards her, none of them risking facing her ire. "As you will be fully aware, I am Madam Hooch. Welcome to your first flying lesson." She paused, looking expectantly at them all, as if they were supposed to know what to do next. Hermione, to his left, had regressed back to furiously muttering her research under her breath, trying to remember what the first step was. Matthew, on Harry's right, prodded his broom slightly with the toe of his shoe and grimaced at the prospect of getting on it. "Well...what are you waiting for? Stand next to your broom. Nice and straight, that's it. Make the broom believe that you're confident." She eyed Neville cautiously. "Even if that's a lie."

Once everyone was in position, Madam Hooch cleared her throat loudly to stop the whispered murmurings that had grown. "The instructions are simple. The easiest you will get during your stay here at Hogwarts. Raise your right hand above the broom and shout 'Up!'"

The students did so, with very little success. Much to his great surprise, Harry's broom shot right into his hand on the first go. Matthew's had done the same, though, over the noise of everyone else bellowing the same word, Harry wasn't certain that he had heard his friend utter any instruction. Hermione let out a loud huff by his side, her broom rolling around feebly despite her using, what they referred to as, her 'lecturer' voice. The next part of the lesson took slightly longer as Madam Hooch went around, telling them how to hold and mount their brooms, correcting their grips when required. It was rather boring as he had to wait impatiently to be given the freedom to fly. Now he held the broom in his hand, a tingling sensation was running through his body as if the object belonged there. The only entertaining part of the tedious health and safety guidelines came when Hooch informed Malfoy that he had been holding his broom the wrong way for years. His pale skin took on a hint of pink but he clamped his mouth shut. Evidently, he wasn't stupid enough to start a rant right in front of the teacher's face. No, he would no doubt leave that for when he was in the safety of the Great Hall, when it was much more difficult to be caught or overheard. Harry thought it was quite sad that, despite all of his bluster, he was secretly as clueless as the rest of them. That didn't stop him laughing quietly with Matthew at the Slytherin's comeuppance.

Harry was seconds away from finally getting on his broom and seeing what all the fuss was about when a terrified shout disturbed the quiet monotony. They all quickly turned, looking for the source of the noise. It was clear to see straight away. Neville, the one student who was more terrified of flying than Hermione, was quickly floating further up, desperately clinging onto the wooden pole with as tight a grip as possible. Why he'd clambered onto it in the first place, nobody knew. He was practically dangling off the back end and it was a miracle that he hadn't fallen off already. From what they could see, with the detail of his features growing blurry as he travelled higher still, his eyes were firmly shut, as if not looking would make the situation disappear.

"What are you doing, boy?" Madam Hooch shouted. "Come down this instance! I didn't allow anyone to leave the ground just yet!" Her words were doing nothing to help. If anything, he was going higher the more she bellowed at him. "Push down! It's really rather simple!"

And then Neville and the broom stopped becoming smaller. The boy seemed to pause for a second, suspended in the air. After that, he was slowly descending in a graceful arc that was at complete odds with the skill and composure he'd just shown. They all watched in stunned disbelief as, against all rational reasoning, Neville found himself safely on the ground once more, where he promptly slumped off the broom and onto the mown grass. Harry was too busy watching the small boy kissing the ground as if it were his one true love to notice that Hermione wasn't really paying attention. Instead, she was looking through narrowed eyes at Matthew, who she could have sworn had been stowing away his wand discreetly as soon as the spectacle was over with. When he rejoined the group, having moved no less than a foot away, he was acting completely normal, almost making her believe that she mustn't have seen correctly.

Madam Hooch was the first to reach the stunned student, forcing the other first years to give them space. "Well, you made it back in one piece, which I never would have predicted. The flight path back down was unconventional but successful, I'll give you that. Why you even got on to start with, I'll never truly understand but it's a lesson to everyone. Do not disrespect your broom. It's the one thing between you and serious injuries, maybe even worse." She glared at them, daring them to say or do anything. "Maybe that'll teach you to listen closely to my instructions." Madam Hooch picked up the broom roughly from underneath him, making him roll face down into the grass, and inspected it with a close eye. "Hmm. There doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary with it. No obvious causes for it to act so strangely. Perhaps that was just down to the student controlling it." She shook her head in Neville's direction. "Such a strange flight path." She said that more to herself than the class, appearing to be confused by the entire thing. "I'll go and place this back into storage. Professor Flitwick can assess it more closely at a later date and ensure the charms are still fully functioning. I won't be gone long. If I find that anyone has left the ground again, I'll have you cleaning the brooms for the rest of your Hogwarts career. Without magic."

The professor marched away at that, leaving the two houses to contemplate what they had just witnessed. Seamus Finnegan held out a hand for Neville, who used it to propel himself back onto two feet. His legs wobbled visibly but he remained upright, which he took as a win. The Irish boy, working in tandem with Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas, had circled their fellow Gryffindor, patting him on the back.

"That was amazing!" His accent was as rich and broad as ever. "I would have bet my entire month's allowance that you were going to end up in the Hospital Wing after that. You looked like you were going to fall off at least three times."

"You're not going to make it on any quidditch teams," Ron commented. "But maybe you're not as useless as everyone has been saying."

Neville blushed at that, more because of the reminder of the snide comments he'd had to endure during his time at the school (and at home too). "I don't know how I did it." His voice was croaky from fear and emphasised how surprised he was that nothing bad had happened. He had a reputation for being clumsy so it made a nice change to buck the trend. "I couldn't control it all and then...it went back down. I don't think I could repeat that even if I wanted to."

"You never know," Harry said, "you might have more skill and talent than you give yourself credit for."

Hermione wasn't too sure as she found herself looking at Matthew closely once more. He appeared oblivious to her scrutinisation, giving her a small smile when he eventually noticed her staring. She only just remembered to return the favour, not wanting to make him suspicious.

Amidst all of the commotion, a glittering object had fallen onto the floor, rolling along the grass. Neville's Remembrall, a gift he had received just that morning and a gift that was more useless at helping him remember things than his own mind, had fallen out of his pocket during his unexpected flight. With everyone else surrounding the Gryffindor boy and congratulating him on the feat of not dying, Draco believed he was the only to notice it and started to think of the fun he could have with it. If the Longbottom fool thought he could fly, then he would have to put that to the test. The lesson was supposed to have been his chance to show everyone how good he was. That had already been scuppered by the meddling instructor who didn't really know anything. A Malfoy never missed the opportunity to gain some respect back, especially if that meant bringing down other people by a few pegs.

He was about to pick the spherical object up when a foot landed on it. He looked up, coming face to face with Matthew, who had a saccharine smile on his face as he took the Remembrall for himself. By now, the other classmates had noticed the strange standoff, finally leaving Neville to quietly compose himself after the narrow escape he'd just gone through. Draco was glowering at the boy who had got in his way, fuming that everything had gone wrong this afternoon.

"I don't think this is yours," Matthew said, holding the Remembrall aloft. "Unless you were about to give it back to Neville, which would have been really kind of you." He threw the artefact in the air, it landing softly in Neville's arms after a few attempts of catching it.

"Maybe you should mind your own business if you know what's good for you," Malfoy bit back.

Matthew could feel Harry and Hermione shadowing him, though no bone in his body was at all threatened by the empty words of the Slytherin. "Thank you for the advice. But I don't normally take my instructions from morons."

Malfoy visibly bristled at the insult. "How dare you? Do you know who I am? My father will have you removed the grounds before you can think of another hilarious wisecrack."

"Your father this, your father that. Do you ever get bored of it? Constantly having to flaunt your family name around because your own accomplishments are so mind numbingly pathetic that no one would ever take you seriously?" Ron Weasley guffawed at that but Matthew was more aware of the tight grip Hermione had on his arm. "I feel sorry for you, really. It must be so difficult living up to expectations when you have no natural skill of your own."

"At least I have a father," Draco shot back. "I don't think I, or anyone here for that matter, has ever heard you talk about your family. Why is that? Are you secretly all alone or just too ashamed to admit where you come from? Either way, you're in no position to be insulting my family."

"I'd warn you to stop while you still can." Matthew's voice was a low whisper now. Something in him had changed after Malfoy's comment. He had glanced at his two friends, something unreadable on his face as he did so.

"Oh, did you hear that, boys?" Malfoy said loudly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were by his side as per usual. "He's warning me. I'm so very frightened."

Matthew stepped closer to him, their faces inches apart, and the smirk on Draco's face instantly disappeared. "I could crush you like a bug if I wanted to. I hope you realise that. The only reason I'm not doing so is because I'd have to clean up the mess afterwards. I wouldn't even want to put Filch through that." Doing the smart thing, he turned around and began to walk away before his anger got the better of him. The other students parted to let him through but he was forced to stop when his opponent chose not to keep his mouth shut.

"A Malfoy doesn't allow someone to threaten them and then walk away! If you're so confident that you're better than me, better than the rest of us, why don't you put that to the test? I challenge you to a duel, midnight tonight. Then we'll see who actually has skill . You can even have Potter as your second. I'd like to strike him down too once I'm past you."

Hermione had let out a small gasp at his challenge. Surely Matthew wouldn't rise to the bait. He was cleverer than that, more level headed than that. But she was realising that she didn't know this boy as well as she'd hoped. Maybe he was different from what she had assumed. She expected him to look angry when he turned around. She had definitely not been anticipating him to be smiling . It was almost gleeful, as if he'd been told an extremely funny joke. Malfoy appeared to have relaxed at the sight of his happier demeanour. If Hermione had been in his position, she would have been more terrified.

"He accepts!" Ron shouted out, taking them all by surprise. "No Gryffindor would back down from a fight, especially against a weasel like you."

"I certainly do not accept," Matthew quickly corrected, glaring at the redhead.

"Scared?" Malfoy asked. "I expected better from you. I'm actually quite disappointed. You might have put up a good fight."

"Why would I be frightened of you? Don't be absurd. No, I'm doing this as a favour to you. I'm giving you a chance to get out of this hole you've dug for yourself. Because you really wouldn't stand a chance against me."

"You're just all talk and I won't allow you to speak to me like that! I call on your wizard's honour to take up the challenge."

Matthew laughed at that, properly laughed. Harry was concerned that something had snapped in his head. "Honour? You wouldn't know honour if it slapped you in the face, which I'm very close to doing, by the way. You can invoke my honour as a wizard any day of the week and it wouldn't affect me in the slightest. Waste your time on someone who cares." He was about to walk away before stopping prematurely. "I want you to remember this moment, Malfoy. Remember when I was kind to you, when I chose not to embarrass you, when I chose to walk away instead of making you even more insignificant than you already are. I'm doing this out of the kindness of my own heart. Next time, if you're foolish enough to cause a next time, that won't be the case." And, with one last dark glare, he finally stalked away, leaving the class behind in stunned disbelief.

"We should go after him," Harry said to Hermione. "He looked upset there at the end after what Malfoy said about his family. I'm in the right mind to thump him in the face. That would show him."

Hermione shook her head. "The last thing we need is any more confrontation. Madam Hooch will be back soon and she'll get things in order." She looked over at the shrinking sight of their friend. "I'll go talk to him. He probably doesn't want to be overcrowded at the moment. You should stay here and make sure no one else gets in a fight."

"I didn't expect you to be the one to voluntarily leave a lesson."

"I can already tell that I'll be no good at this but you've been looking forward to this class for ages. You should enjoy it. And maybe I'm starting to see that there are some things that are more important than classes."

As she left Harry behind, chasing after her only other friend, Hermione knew that she also had other motives for wanting to do this. It wasn't technically lying, what she had done to Harry. It was more...an omission of certain facts. That was what her conscience was telling her anyway. She wanted answers, something that drove her constantly, but this had nothing to do with her academic pursuits. The way Matthew had been acting, the things he said...something was off about him and she didn't want to let him get away without at least acknowledging that she was onto him. If she allowed the tension to ease for a few hours, if he disappeared, then there was a big chance of him simply waving away her concerns like he'd done so up to this point. Hopefully, his apparent anger would assist her, potentially causing him to slip up.

By the time she caught sight of him, heading through the main entrance of Hogwarts, Matthew was using his staff once more. Where it had come from, that was another infuriating question. There was no way that he'd been using it during the lesson. How was one expected to fly with another piece of wood in your hand? She didn't try to hide the sound of her loud footsteps as she ran, not wanting to sneak up on him. She felt bad enough for feeling so suspicious as it was. She was well aware of a stitch tying her stomach into a knot but she kept up the pace, the boy growing larger as she approached.

"You should have stayed in class, Hermione," he said, not unkindly. He didn't stop walking though she was sure his pace had slowed down to accommodate her whilst she tried to catch her breath.

"I didn't want to leave you. You were upset and the last thing you need right now is to be alone." Hermione's tone carried an air of finality about her decision, even if she were still debating whether it had been the right thing to do.

She caught the faintest hints of a smile on his face. "I'm fine. Trust me, I won't let what that little twerp says get to me. His only weapon in his words so, if I ignore him, I'm immune to his odorous presence."

"Matthew, can we please stop?" she asked. "I want to have a proper conversation with you, not a jog."

He did as requested. "What do you want to talk about then?" He was acting nonchalant, trying to get her off the scent.

"The way you threatened him. You were sure that you could beat him easily. And...I fully believed you. But why is that? How would you know to do something like that?"

"It was an idle threat. Something designed to get him to wet his pants. And it worked."

"No! It wasn't." She was holding firm here. She wouldn't allow him to use his words as usual. He had the same weapon as Draco, just on another level. "I could tell from the look in your eyes. All it would have taken is one more insult and you would have cracked."

"Do you really think that I'm capable of something like that? I'm a kid!"

"I don't know! I really don't know." She was shouting now, her emotions, her desperation, spilling out. "I hardly know anything about you but I want to trust you and that scares me. So much."

"I wouldn't have hurt him," was all Matthew said after a moment of silence. "I wouldn't have let it come to that."

"The implication that you were holding back the ability to do it though," Hermione shot back.

"You're reading a little too much into my words, I think." He turned away, continuing with his walk back to the common room.

"I actually believed you, you know!" she shouted out, which made him halt again. "You said that you were my friend. But you're lying to me right now and friends do not do that."

"I'm not lying," he tried to reassure her softly. His hands were outstretched, hoping to placate her.

"You're hiding something then. Neville's broom just then. I'm sure you had something to do with that. Warming up your drink the other morning. My trunk floating onto the pile unassisted. Magic that you shouldn't be able to perform but yet...you make it look easy. I think I'm the only one who's noticed. That's why I didn't want Harry here with me. I'm giving you a chance."

There was a clear war going on in his mind, conveyed in his battling expressions. He bit his lip, fighting against his indecision. Eventually, Matthew perched against the stone wall in front of a window, looking at the ground. "As I've already told you, I was alone. Alone for a very long time. With nothing else to do and no one to watch over me, I started practicing magic. That's why I can do certain things. It's not the most exciting of explanations but it's the...truth."

"Then why come to Hogwarts if you already knew the spells?" Something still didn't make sense to her.

He shrugged. "To refine my skills? I doubt I was a very good teacher so there will be things that I got wrong. Just because I can do some simple spells doesn't mean I can ace transfiguration or potions. And really...I was bored. I had no one. Hogwarts was my chance to be surrounded by people, to find people to bond with. And I thought I'd been doing that fairly well but…" He gestured to her. "...evidently not."

The anger in her body had started to ebb away as he spoke, as he explained his side of the story. "You just wanted friends," she whispered. "Like me."

"And maybe I should have spoken more about some of the skills I picked up but I honestly didn't think they were that important. I didn't want to show off in the first few weeks and have people despise me. But look where that got me. You, despising me. It's funny how things turn out."

"I don't despise you," she assured him. "Far from it. You're probably the most interesting person I've ever met, and Harry isn't too far behind you. I was just worried that I was rushing into this friendship. Perhaps, if we work on your ability to open up and my ability to not always need the answers...then we can avoid something like this happening again."

"Really?" A hopeful smile was on his face now as he stood up.

Hermione nodded her head. "It wouldn't hurt if you told me all about what you learnt before Hogwarts though. I bet it's fascinating. You saved Neville but didn't take any of the plaudits."

"I'm not here for that. I don't need rewards or praise. Making Malfoy's skin go as pale as a ghost was glory enough." Matthew enjoyed the noise of her laughter as they made their way back to Gryffindor tower, much more at ease than he'd been a few moments before.