The next day, the answer to the Slytherin Seeker problem fell, almost literally, into his lap.

Harry slept poorly, just like he knew he would. Stupid, interfering professors and their stupid interfering nurses. One good thing had come of the whole ordeal, though. At least he didn't have to hide to take a shower the next morning, as his bruises were mostly gone. Zabini was as snotty as usual, making some remark about how Harry must have finally gotten over being shy, but Harry ignored him. It was easiest to do so. He didn't know what the other boy's problem was, but he'd known bullies aplenty back in Little Whinging, so he wasn't unused to the concept.

At breakfast, surprisingly, Millicent sat on one side of him, while Teddy sat on the other. She gave him a shy smile, which he returned, but didn't say anything, so he returned that, too.

"We've got flying lessons this afternoon," Teddy said after swallowing a mouthful of eggs. "You ever been on a broom before?"

Harry shook his head. "Raised by Muggles, remember?" He was, himself, trying to forget it. But last night had put paid to that possibility. "Have you?"

Teddy gave him one of his half-smiles. "Yeah. But don't worry about it. Half of the Gryffindorks haven't been up yet either."

Harry snickered a little over the nickname; it was fairly lightweight compared to some things he'd heard in the Slytherin common room. "We're to have our lesson with them?"

Teddy nodded, as his mouth was full of bacon. Then he pointed at the bottle of blue sludge still sitting by Harry's plate, untouched, where it had appeared soon after they sat down, and swallowed. "Who's sending you potions?"

"Madam Pomfrey," Harry admitted with a shrug, figuring a lie was pointless, and if he could act casually enough about it, Teddy wouldn't see how upset the whole thing made him. "She thinks I need extra nutrition or something. I had to go see her the other day, remember?"

Teddy nodded. "Looks disgusting."

"It is," Harry agreed fervently. "I'm trying to figure if I can mix it with something to improve the taste."

"Not potions, you don't want to mess about with that. You could ask our Head. He's the Potions Master, after all."

Harry wasn't going to be asking him anything. Ever, if he could help it. "Nah, that's okay. I'll choke it down. It'll just take me a minute."

"Good luck," Teddy said with a smirk.

"Gee, thanks."

Teddy laughed quietly, and Harry plugged his nose again before taking up the bottle. He didn't even want to smell the awful odor of it first this time. The potion was just as bad as the one last night, and again, Harry had to try and keep it down by force of will. He hurriedly drank a whole glass of pumpkin juice right after, to wash away some of the taste. Blech.

Millicent was giving him a concerned look as he put his glass down. "Don't choke or nothin,'" she said. "Who'll help me in study group, else?"

"Aww, you just want me for my Charms, then?" he teased.

She laughed. "Got it in one."

Across the table, Draco snorted through a mouthful of juice, making the rest of them laugh as he mopped his face. "Thanks, I didn't know you cared," he groused.

From the other end of the table, several Prefects growled at them to mind their manners, making Harry and the others sit straighter and school their laughter and expressions to something less raucous. Harry chanced a look at the Head Table, and was disconcerted to find Snape watching him. Again.

Hadn't he done enough already?

He glared back at Snape, then cocked his head toward the empty bottle, so the interfering git could see he'd already drunk the nasty gunk down, before he turned back to his toast.

The mail arrived soon after, and Harry was glad that no owl swooped down to him, for once, to give him detention or infirmary directives. Draco, though, got a big package of sweets from home. After a minute's cajoling, he handed some of them out to the other first years. Harry got treacle fudge and munched happily on it; it did wonders for driving the taste of Blue Yuck from his mouth. After they finished breakfast, Draco brought the rest of his sweets back to the dorms, with Crabbe and Goyle alongside him as always, and the rest of the first years made their way to Transfigurations.

Draco and his two "body guards," looking flushed, got there just before the door closed.

"Long trip?" Harry asked as Draco slid into the seat beside him.

"Something like that. I'll show you later." He smirked and took out his quill as McGonagall got started with her lecture.

---

At 3:30 in the afternoon, the Slytherins traipsed out of the castle, down to a broad expanse of flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, where they were to have their first flying lesson.

Harry eyed the brooms uneasily. None of the Gryffindors had arrived yet, but Madam Hooch, their instructor, was laying the brooms out in a precise line, with about a meter between each one and the next. Teddy, beside him, was looking them over, too, then jerked his head a little at Harry as he strode over to get a closer look.

"School brooms," Teddy said with a sigh, as he gestured to a couple of brooms nearby. "See how some of them have bent or missing bristles? You want to avoid those. That one there, though, it's had some replaced, but the new bristles are at the wrong angle. Not much, but enough it'll tell in the air, make you drift left."

Harry looked at the brooms again, and saw what Teddy meant. "Okay, so that would be a good one, then?" He pointed at the broom three over from where they stood. The brush portion was all the same color, had few straws missing, and they were all in the same direction, with nothing sticking out oddly.

Teddy nodded, with his little smile. "Good eye, Harry. Why don't you claim that one."

Harry did so, and Teddy took a place two farther down. As the Slytherins finished selecting brooms -- Pansy ending up on Harry's left, and Millicent on his right -- the Gryffindors arrived.

It was the first chance Harry had really had to see them, spread out like this. In Herbology, they were crowded around tables in the damp and hot greenhouse, and no one had a chance for socializing. Not that he really wanted to, but he was still hurt by Ron's rejection and somehow hoped they could be friends regardless of House. His Mum had been nice to him, helping him through the barrier at King's Cross, and he thought the twins might be fun to be around, too.

As he watched them, he realized Ron was one of the only Gryffindors who didn't look terribly anxious about this lesson. With all his talk about Quidditch on the train, Harry supposed that made sense. Some of the others, though, looked positively nauseated with fear.

Madam Hooch, who had short gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk, suddenly barked, "Well, what are you waiting for?" at the milling Gryffindors. "Everyone stand by a broom. Come on, hurry up."

They scrambled to obey, and Ron took a broom almost directly across from Harry. He straightened his robes as Madam Hooch started to speak.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," she called, walking past the line, "and say ‘Up!'"

"Up!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom shot into his hand at once, and so did Teddy's, but they were about the only ones whom it worked for on the first try. Some of the brooms were just rolling over, all pathetic, and some were shuddering, but not going upwards even a little. After a few more tries, everyone had a broom in hand, and Madam Hooch was telling them how to mount and then kick off, when one of the Gryffindors - Longbottom? Harry couldn't remember - suddenly rose into the air before she blew her whistle. He looked terrified.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted, but he kept going up and up, so fast it was like a rocket, and then he slipped to the side and fell, down, down . . . and hit the ground with a meaty thud, making everyone wince.

"Broken wrist," the instructor muttered as she bent over him where he lay on the grass. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Some of the other Slytherins snickered right along with him, but Harry scowled at them. "Shut up, Draco, he was hurt. I'd like to see you do better with a broken wrist."

"What do you care about stupid Longbottom?" Draco asked. "Sticking up for crybabies now, too?" He turned his sneer on Millicent, and she glared back at him.

The blood rushed to Harry's face. "Just because I don't pick on people who don't deserve-"

"Maybe you should've been a Gryffindork, Potter," Zabini mocked. "Then you could stick up for all the losers you wanted from the comfort of your own little tower in the sky."

"Shut up, Zabini," Harry growled. "Remember rule one?"

Zabini scowled back, but kept his mouth closed.

"Oh, hey, look," Draco crowed suddenly. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him." He picked something up and held it high. A glass ball about the size of a marble, it looked like it was full of white smoke, and glittered in the sun.

"Hey, that's Neville's Remembrall!" Ron shouted.

Harry stepped up beside Draco. "Give that here."

"Why should I? Maybe I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. Like up a tree."

"Give it here!"

Draco leapt onto his broomstick and was up in the air, hovering at the height of the nearby trees in seconds. "Well? Come and get it."

Without even thinking, Harry grabbed his broom. Blood pounded in his ears, and he kicked hard against the ground. He soared up, up high, and the wind whipped through his hair as he climbed higher, like he'd been born to be in the air, born to fly. He could do this; it was easy. It was wonderful. After pulling on his broom to go a bit higher, he turned sharply to meet Draco, face to face in mid air. He held out his hand. "Give me that," he said clearly, but in a low voice.

Draco shook his head. His voice was low, too; by unspoken agreement, both of them tried to keep their conversation just between them. "No mercy, remember? Let it go, Harry."

"I won't. The kid was scared and hurt, and he didn't do anything to you or any of us. I won't let you break his present from his Gran, too."

"Suit yourself," Draco said. "But you'll have to catch it."

Harry frowned, and then realized what Draco meant when the blond threw the glass ball high into the air and then streaked back to the ground before Harry could stop him.

As though in slow motion, the ball rose up in the air and then started to fall. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down -- he gathered speed in a steep dive, racing the ball -- wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching -- he stretched out his hand -- a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.

"MISTER POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor Snape was hurtling toward him, his great black robes billowing out like bat wings. His black eyes flashed dangerously. Professor McGonagall was hurrying to catch up, her pace no match for Snape's.

Harry got to his feet, trembling.

"Of all the asinine, imbecilic, senseless things to do!" Snape snarled as he came to a halt to loom over Harry. He snatched the Remembrall from Harry's hand, and passed it over to McGonagall without so much as a look in her direction. "You could have broken your fool neck!"

"Professor, it wasn't his fault-"

"Not now, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, and Harry turned to see who'd defended him, noting a bushy haired girl for the first time, and then remembered her from the train. Hermione Granger. But before he could even say thanks, a hand grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the school.

He stumbled forward as Snape growled, "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, follow me," and then took off so fast that Harry and Draco had to run to keep up with his long strides.

Oh, god. Harry was going to be expelled, he just knew it. And now, right after getting all the bruises and stuff healed, he was going to have to go back to the Dursleys. Draco also looked worried, but he'd only have to go back to people who sent him huge boxes of sweets; how hard would that be?

Still, he felt bad; if he hadn't challenged Draco over the Remembrall like that, neither of them would have been in the air. Neither of them would now be facing expulsion. As they tailed after Snape, Harry felt sick and couldn't get enough air. Maybe, if he ran now, he could get far enough away they wouldn't be able to find him to put him back on the train . . . Maybe he could hide in the Forest.

Snape marched across the lawn, up the wide front stairs, in through the front door, then up the marble staircase to the Defense classroom on the second floor. He slammed the door open, startling the students just inside. "Professor Quirrell," he called to the turbaned man at the front of the room. "I would like a word with Mr. Flint."

"O-o-of course, P-p-professor." Quirrell flicked a hand toward one of the rows, and Prefect Flint got up, scowling, but his expression smoothed as soon as he reached the corridor and glimpsed Draco and Harry.

Snape grabbed Draco's collar in one hand and Harry's in the other, spun them both around and gave them a shove. "My office. Now!"

The two of them scrambled to obey. Harry didn't bother looking behind him as they tore down to the dungeon, but he was sure Snape dogged their heels the whole way. When they got there, though, Snape wasn't with them, and they had to wait for him in the hallway, as the door was locked.

Biting his lip, Harry stood stiffly in front of the door, and Draco lounged against the wall.

"Sorry," Harry said after a minute, when he could no longer bear the silence.

"What for?" Draco said. "You caught the bloody thing. Even got a Mudblood to stand up for you."

"But we're going to be expelled," Harry hissed.

"Maybe you will, but a Malfoy? I think not."

Harry knew he was going to be sick now.

It was only another minute or two before Snape appeared, looking for all the world like a vampire from a scary movie, swooping down on his prey. Harry shrank back against the wall, staying out of reach of the professor's grabby hands, but Snape just waved his wand over the door to unlock it, before he curtly motioned them inside.

This was one room Harry was becoming far too familiar with. He didn't even have a chance to look around, though, before the door slammed behind shut them and Snape bellowed, "What in the name of Salazar Slytherin did you think you were doing?"

Draco gave a little shrug, even as Harry said, "Sorry, sir."

Snape seemed to not even hear him as he continued shouting, "You're lucky I was there to catch your little display or McGonagall would have had you both on the next train out of Hogsmeade. Yes, both of you, Mr. Malfoy. Your father carries little influence with the Gryffindor Head of House."

"It was just a little flying, Professor," Draco started. "No one got-"

Snape interrupted him, "Rules are not made to be broken, despite what you may think, Mr. Malfoy. And tampering with another students belongings, especially in front of two dozen witnesses, is hardly worthy of any special consideration. What would your father have to say to that, I wonder?"

Draco paled even further than his normal milky-white color, and Harry couldn't help but suck in a quick breath when the Professor's dark eyes turned on him. "And you! Did we not just spend hours in the infirmary, repairing your ungrateful little body? Is this how you repay Madam Pomfrey's hard work? Risking your life for a worthless piece of glass?"

Harry looked down, unable to hold the man's gaze any longer. Shame washed over him, but he didn't bother to deny Snape's words; it was true, all of it. No matter how much he felt flying was second nature to him, he really could have been killed, and still might be expelled, for a Remembrall. "I'm sorry, sir," he said again.

There was silence for a long moment, then Snape, much more calmly, said, "You will both have detention for the next week. Mr. Malfoy, you will have yours with Filch, and Mr. Potter, you will serve yours with me. Starting tonight sharply at seven. That will be all, gentlemen."

Harry let go his breath, feeling a dizzy sort of giddiness at the reprieve. He wasn't going to be expelled!

"Mr. Potter, remain another moment, please," Snape said, and Harry's gut took another wrenching turn.

Draco gave him a commiserating look as he hurried out of Snape's office, but Harry could hardly bear the suspense even so.

"Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir?" He met the Professor's gaze again.

"I have arranged for Mr. Flint to meet us here in a few moments. Please have a seat."

Gaping at the change of tone and the offer, Harry stumbled back against the chair he'd taken a couple nights ago before sinking into it. Snape stared at him, his black eyes fathomless, and Harry could not look away. Neither of them spoke.

A heavy knock sounded on the door a few minutes later, and Harry jumped.

"Enter," Snape called, and the door opened to admit Marcus Flint. The large fifth year scowled at Harry before nodding at Snape.

Neither of them expected the half smile that settled on Snape's face, or the next words out of his mouth. "Mr. Flint," Snape said, sounding almost pleased. "I believe I have found you a Seeker."