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Harry had been looking forward to flying more than anything else at Hogwarts. He could imagine the feel of the wind whipping his hair, watching as the world grew small, the sky open and free. He had never even touched one, a real broomstick that is. So, when he saw the bulletin in the Slytherin common room announcing that first-years were starting flying lessons that Thursday, his heart swelled.

Malfoy, of course, found something to complain about.

“With the Gryffindors again,” he sighed. “Well, at least we can show them how a wizard is supposed to fly.”

Harry cringed slightly. He wasn’t sure he could fly yet even. What if he made a fool of himself?

Malfoy must’ve seen something akin to worry on Harry’s face because he suddenly shot, “Ever been on a broomstick, Potter?”

“No…”

“It’s no big deal, really. Any idiot can do it.”

Just wait, I won’t be able to, Harry thought dismally as they exited the common room and headed for breakfast.

Malfoy hadn’t said anything about the conversation they’d had on the front steps. In fact, he acted as though such a conversation had never taken place – something that both worried and confused him. 

“You can’t have one foot in both worlds, Potter. Soon, you are going to have to decide where your loyalties lie, and there will be no rethinking your decision then.”

The words rang over and over in his head. Never menacing. Never challenging. Objective. Merely a statement of the obvious, nothing that he would ever consider frightening. And yet, the tacit warnings they held…

What would he choose?

He was still holding onto that small part of himself that told him that this had been a mistake. He had been sorted into Slytherin by accident and that he was truly a Gryffindor at heart. Someone was going to come and tell him the Sorting Hat had put him in the wrong house and correct it.

Wishful thinking.

So what would he do when he finally was confronted with the decision? Would he fight for a place next to the brave at heart or accept his colors?

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“So there I was, testing out the new broomstick my father had just given me when, out of nowhere, I hear this screech. I stop dead and whirl around and I see this eagle coming up beside me. Well, I thought, if this broomstick is as good as my father said it was, beating the bird in a race should be no problem. I shot off like a rocket, the bird closely on my tail. It suddenly pulls ahead of me and shoots high into the sky. I follow it, gaining quickly. I am in the lead and then I hear this roar. The sound is so loud I can feel it vibrating my ribs. A second before it’s too late I drop and an enormous airplane full of muggle passengers flies overhead, missing me by inches.”

Malfoy leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face. Around him other Slytherins are leaning forward, intrigued.

“Did any of them see you?” Pansy piped up shrilly, her eyes wide.

“No…” Malfoy drawled. “I dived back to the ground faster than you could blink.”

“Wow…” said Crabbe staring at him slightly open-mouthed, his eyes out of focus.

Harry traded slightly skeptical looks with Zabini before returning to his toast. This was the third story in a row that Malfoy had narrowly escaped muggles in airplanes. Ever since they had read the flying lesson announcement Malfoy hadn’t shut up about it. He kept telling these long boastful stories and complained loudly about first-years not being able to play on the house quidditch team. He wasn’t the only one, either. It seemed as if everyone with muggle parentage had spent sometime on a broomstick. Pansy bragged loudly about how she stuck the neighbor’s cat in a tree without getting caught and even Zabini mentioned a time when he had nearly ran into a pair of hikers up by his house.

Harry felt left out, but at least he knew what Quidditch was – and though he didn’t know any teams – he could still follow the conversation.

“Tell us another one!” Daphne asked.

“Well,” Malfoy began, his eyes glittering. “There was this one time when I—”

He was interrupted by the screech of owls bringing in the daily mail. He paused, looked up and smiled. “I’ll continue in a moment, looks like Maleficent has a package for me.”

Maleficent was Malfoy’s enormous eagle owl and, Harry thought that the name suited it just fine. It always seemed to be glaring at him and the one time his hand had strayed too close it had snapped angrily at his fingers. Almost every morning it fluttered down with something, goodies from his mother, a letter from his father and whatever other gifts his parent’s had decided to shower him with.

Today, it was a box of chocolates imported from France.

While Malfoy boasted loudly about the exquisite taste, Harry turned to Zabini and asked in an undertone, “Is flying a broom quite hard?”

Zabini looked at him for a moment before smirking. “What? Afraid you won’t be able to manage it?”

 Harry glared at him before he quipped, “No. I’m just curious whether all of Malfoy’s broom stories could be done by a drunken troll.”

Zabini snorted into his pumpkin juice before waving his hand carelessly behind him. “It’s easy enough, though I think a drunken troll would plow the ground with his head.”

Harry grinned and was about to ask him to pass the marmalade when Malfoy spoke loudly. “It looks as though Longbottom’s gotten something.”

Harry automatically glanced at the Gryffindor table and watched as the boy in question started unwrapping a small box.

“So?” he asked. “You get mail all the time.”

Malfoy didn’t answer; instead he stood and walked over to the Gryffindor table, Crabbe and Goyle following him as though they had chains around their necks.

“What do you reckon he’s doing?” Zabini muttered.

“No idea…”

It wasn’t hard to see exactly what he was doing, of course. He had taken something from Longbottom and was inspecting it. It looked like a small glass ball. But as soon as he had taken it, Ron and his brothers Fred and George had leapt to their feet, bracing for a fight. It certainly looked as though they would attack even with the High Table full of teachers, but in a flash, Professor McGonagall was there. The Weasley’s sat down and Malfoy made his way back to their table, looking smug.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked him the instant he had sat down.

Malfoy shrugged, faking innocence. “Nothing.”

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Harry wondered dimly how much longer they would have to wait when he saw them. The Gryffindors were trudging across the field toward them and, try as he might, he couldn’t help but feel the familiar stab of longing. Following them was their teacher.

Madam Hooch had short, gray hair and eyes like a hawk. She surveyed them for a moment then barked, “Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Harry was quickly jostled into a line. He looked down at his broomstick. It was frayed and the wood looked like it was coming off in splinters at the head.

“Stick your right hand over your broom, and say ‘Up!’” she called.

It certainly sounded easy enough.

Harry, like the rest of his classmates, followed her instructions.

“Up!” Harry said loudly and at once, the broom jumped into his hand. He couldn’t help but notice that it was one of the few who had. Crabbe’s had shook violently and Nott’s – a boy from his dorm – had sort of flipped over. Malfoy, his broom in hand, glanced over at Harry looking faintly surprised.

“Not bad, Potter,” he sneered.

Once everyone had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch walked by again, telling them how to mount and checking their grips. 

“Malfoy, you need to move your hands down and switch them,” she said as she passed by.

“I’ve been doing it like this for years!” he protested.

“Then you’ve been doing it wrong for years, haven’t you?”

Harry noted that a pink twinge had appeared on his face. He caught Zabini’s eye and they looked away, sniggering.

“Now,” Madam Hooch called out. “On my whistle I want you to kick off from the ground hard, hover for a moment, then lead forward slightly, and touch back down. On my whistle, three—two—”

But, Neville Longbottom, obviously nervous, had jumped the gun. He shot into the air like a cork on New Year’s Eve. Twelve feet, twenty feet. Harry could see his pale face looking down at them, saw his eyes wide with fright, saw him gasp and slip sideways off the broom and—

WHAM— there was a thud and sickening crack. Madam Hooch ran over to him, her face almost as white as his.

“Broken wrist,” he heard her mutter. “Come on, boy—it’s all right, up you get.”

As she supported Neville, who was sobbing wordlessly clutching his wrist – which was swelling rapidly, she turned to the rest of the class and said, very seriously, “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.”

And she turned heel for the castle, her arm around him.

As soon as she had reached a safe distance, Malfoy turned to the rest of the class, sneering.

“Did you see his face, the great lump?” And he burst into laughter, the other Slytherins joining in. Harry chuckled nervously, starting to feel awkward.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” snapped Parvati Patil.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” replied Pansy her eyes full of cruel amusement. “Never thought you’d like fat little cry-babies, Parvati.”

“Look!” And the next second, Malfoy had darted forward and seized something from the ground. He held it up to show everyone. Harry saw that it was the same glass ball he had taken during breakfast. “It’s that stupid thing that Longbottom’s Gran sent him.”

Harry looked over at Ron. He was glaring furiously at Malfoy, his hands clenched. As were almost nearly every Gryffindor. Hermione Granger was the only one who wasn’t shaking with anger, that’s not to say she didn’t look a little upset, of course.

“Hey, Potter!” Malfoy suddenly called and Harry’s head snapped to him. “Let’s go hide it in a tree.”

Harry knew that every eye had suddenly gravitated toward him. His fellow Slytherins were cheering him on, they had even started chanting.

“Hide it! Hide it!”

“Er…” Harry said half-glancing at Ron. “I don’t really know how to fly.”

“Oh, come on!” Zabini yelled. “It’s not that difficult, besides you already defeated the Dark Lord, flying a broom should be a piece of cake.”

Malfoy’s lip curled into a sneer and he jumped onto his broom. He hadn’t been lying. He could fly, well. But, that just made everything that much worse. He made a quick circle around the group – show off – before coming to a hover above him, smirking now.

“What’s the matter? Scared of heights, Potter?”

“No…” Harry muttered darkly.

“Then, c’mon!”

“But—”

“A true Slytherin would do it.”

And Harry knew instantly what this was all about. Malfoy had put him in the spotlight, had stolen the Remembrall for this single purpose.

To make Harry choose.

If he didn’t jump on his broom right now he wasn’t a “true Slytherin” and Harry knew he would be forever ridiculed. But if he did, he would be banishing Gryffindor from his mind forever. Accepting his colors. And Malfoy was right. There would be no re-thinking his decision later.

“…Where your loyalties lie…”

Harry looked up at his pale, pointed, smirking face and took a deep breath.

He jumped onto his broom and kicked off from the ground, hard, the cheers from his fellow Slytherins almost deafening. The instant his feet left the ground, soon as he felt the wind whipping through his hair as he soared higher, watching as the people below him shrunk, he realized something incredible. This was easy, this was fun! The sheer joy of it filled his being, it was like breathing… the broom moved wherever he wanted it too. He turned sharply and shot toward Malfoy coming to a complete standstill in midair beside him.

He looked stunned. He stared wordlessly at Harry for a moment before recovering himself.

“The famous Harry Potter can do anything, it seems.”

“That’s right, Malfoy,” Harry replied smirking himself.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t do it,” Malfoy muttered in an undertone so that no one else would hear. Then he smiled and held out his hand. “Welcome to Slytherin, Potter.”

He looked down at it and, this time, Harry shook it. “Pleasure is all mine.” Then, he added in a whisper. “But I’m still visiting Hagrid. Don’t care what you say about it.”

Malfoy chuckled. “In that case…” And he shot high into the sky, a bewildered Harry quickly following him. “You have to catch, this—” he waved the Remembrall “—before it touches the ground.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m going to make damn sure you won’t be able to see your big oaf friend.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “And here I thought we were getting along.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“Okay, fine. If we’re going to do that then I’m upping the stakes.”

“Oh yeah?” Malfoy sneered.

“If I catch it, you have to see Hagrid with me. And you can’t complain or make fun of him at all. Do we have a deal?”

Malfoy chuckled. “Deal.” And he threw the Remembrall as hard as he could.

Harry watched as it rose into the air, almost in slow motion. He was dimly aware that Malfoy had returned to the ground, to watch with everyone else. Then… the ball began to fall. He was picking up speed, racing it to the ground. He stretched out his hand… a foot from the ground he caught it! He pulled out of the dive and landed softly onto the freshly cut grass and straightened up. He held it above his head, a broad smile on his face, listening to the cheers emanating from the green and silver clad students. 

“HARRY POTTER!”

His heart sank faster than he’d just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward him, her lips thinner than Harry had ever seen them.

“Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—”

She was practically speechless with shock, and anger Harry was very well certain with the way she was glaring at him. “—How dare you—might have broken your neck—”

“He didn’t do anything—” Daphne said shrilly but Professor McGonagall cut her off.

“Thank you, Miss Greengrass but I have eyes of my own. Mr. Potter, follow me.”

Harry, now that the high from flying was gone, felt incredibly stupid. As he passed by his fellow Slytherins he heard Zabini mutter, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of this one,” but he couldn’t feel very hopeful.

He couldn’t believe he had let Malfoy bait him like that… he was going to get expelled. Barely two weeks into school and he’d screwed up. The Dursley’s would kill him when they learned he was coming back. The prospect of having him gone for nearly nine months of the year destroyed. He wondered if maybe he could persuade Dumbledore to allow him to stay on the grounds with Hagrid as his assistant.

Harry became aware that she was taking him toward the dungeons. Of course, she was going to dump him with his Head of House, let Snape dish out punishment. And, considering the look he’d given Harry during potions, he was fairly certain what the outcome would be.

They stopped at a door and Professor McGonagall knocked jerking Harry back to reality for a moment. “Severus?” she called sharply.

The door was flung open and she entered, taking Harry with her. Snape’s office was cold, dark, and ghostly with little animals and all manner of oddities floating in jars around the walls. These seemed to give off a faint greenish glow, almost like glowsticks. When they entered, Snape closed the door behind them and surveyed them each for a moment before returning to his desk.

“Yes?” he asked glancing Harry only mildly curious.

As McGonagall started telling him about what she had seen out on the lawn, Harry plopped himself into the available chair next to Snape’s desk. He started thinking of excuses that might save him his wand. Malfoy had baited him… he’d been forced… he’d had no choice… But, whatever it was, he knew it wouldn’t fly.

And, the worst part of this whole ordeal, Harry knew that given the chance to do it again, even knowing this result, he’d still do it exactly the same.

Maybe that’s why he could not even bring himself to look his Head of House in the eyes, even if said eyes were currently drilling holes into the top of his head. He had chosen, of his own accord, to be a Slytherin and the thought, so odd, so peculiar and even a tad bit horrifying, he had found some peace within it.

He belonged somewhere.

“He’s all yours, Severus.”

Harry registered dimly that she had left, shutting the door with a snap behind her. He knew that Snape was now waiting for him to start his defense – at least, that’s what it felt like he should be doing – but, he didn’t say a word. He merely continued to stare at his hands, his shoes, the floor.

“So,” Snape spat and Harry could hear the glee in his voice. “It appears that the great Harry Potter finds himself above the rules we petty mortals are obligated to follow, namely obey instructions!”

Harry flinched, but didn’t respond.

“What were you thinking, you stupid boy? McGonagall told me that you went into a vertical dive almost forty feet in the air, and that you didn’t pull up the broom until you could lick the grass! Do you think that just because you survived when nobody else has you’re invincible? Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re just as mortal as the rest of us and showing off at your flying lesson won’t save your neck, no matter who’s watching.”

No response.

“You think that you can just shake this off and break the rules with no consequences? Well, I have news for you! While everyone else may worship your mere existence, I will not! You are nothing but an ungrateful, spoiled, insolent brat that has as much regard for the rules as his arrogant, pig-headed father did!”

Nothing.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

His lack of response seemed to annoy Snape, because he suddenly snapped furiously, “Answer me when I speak to you.”

“I’m sorry…” Harry mumbled now wringing his hands nervously together. “But—”

“But what?” Snape snarled.

And for the first time since he’d entered, Harry looked up at his Professor’s cold, black pitiless eyes. “Please – Please! – don’t expel me,” he finally managed to croak out, noting with humiliation that his voice was shaking slightly. And, before he could stop himself, he was talking as fast as he could, trying to get it all out before it consumed him.

“Malfoy stole Neville’s Remembrall and was playing around with it. He wanted me to come and hide it with him, but I didn’t really want to. Then he jumped on his broom and he started taunting me and then rest of the Slytherins started to chant. I kept telling them that I didn’t even know how to fly – it was my first flying lesson – but then Malfoy said that a true Slytherin would do it. See, he’d been bugging me to decide where my ‘loyalties lie’ for a while and he made it sound like that if I didn’t go I wasn’t Slytherin, or deserved to be one. And… well… I didn’t want to be shunned by my House… so I did it.”

Harry took a deep breath and found that Snape was staring at him almost… bemused. It was an odd expression on his face, but it was gone in a flash.

“And you think that excuses you?” he asked cynically, his eyes flashing.

“No!” Harry said quickly and then he dropped his head again staring hatefully at the ground. “Nothing excuses me…” he muttered in a tone of disconsolation. “Just thought you should know the whole story.”

That was it. He was finished. There was nothing else to say. Except…

“When should I get my stuff?” Harry asked miserably, trying not to imagine Uncle Vernon’s malicious face when he picked him up at Kings Cross. Going to stonewall high in those revolting clothes that his aunt had dyed gray. Dudley’s taunts, his Aunt’s sneers, his Uncle’s hand flying for his face—

“At the end of term, with everyone else,” Snape said slowly and quietly, as though he hated the words that were coming out of his mouth. Harry’s head shot up.

“What?” he asked hoarsely.

Snape’s lip curled into an unpleasant sneer. “That doesn’t mean you are walking away free of punishment. You are to serve detention with me every Friday from now until the end of term. Now get out of my office.”

Harry jumped to his feet as if he’d been electrocuted and practically ran to the door, anything to be out of that room with the creepy pickled things in jars. He didn’t stop running until he’d reached the common room and flopped down onto one of the couches.

He wasn’t expelled. He was going to be able to go to class tomorrow. He allowed himself a smile and put out of mind the prospect of having detention until Christmas.