Charms with Professor Flitwick was a little bit different. They spent the whole class taking notes and simply practising wand gestures until the bell sounded for lunch. Harry was disappointed that they didn’t get to cast any spells, for he had been looking forward to it.

“We will be casting charms next class, so please come prepared,” Professor Flitwick called to the students as they made their way out of the classroom. 

When Alex and Harry got to the Great Hall, Severus was waiting for them with a smirk on his face. “I heard you earned Slytherin sixty points today! Good going! You must have made a good impression of Slughorn!” he said as Harry and Alex sat down.

“I just remembered a lot of what I read this summer. It’s no big deal,” Harry said.

“No big deal? Professor Slughorn said they’re going to use our potion in the Hospital Wing!” Alex said, his voice dripping with awe.

“I’m sure they do that all the time,” Harry said with a shrug. He was happy with the acknowledgement, but it didn’t seem warranted, considering how little effort it actually took. But the look on Severus’ face told him maybe it was a bigger deal than he thought.

“That’s actually quite amazing. It’s not every day a first-year makes a potion good enough for Slughorn to hand over to Madam Pomfrey, especially the first class,” Severus said, causing Harry to grin proudly.

“Too bad we’re taking flying lessons next,” Harry said, frowning. “I’ll probably be just awful on a broom.”

“I dunno, James Potter is pretty good on a broom and he is your cousin, after all. So you probably won’t be that bad,” Severus said, emphasising the word ‘cousin’. “He might be a jerk, but he’s brilliant on a broom.”

Upon hearing that, Harry felt a bit more optimistic. Perhaps he would leave the class without any major injuries. At the very least, he was hoping he’d be able to walk himself to the hospital wing. He wanted his dignity to be spared the humiliation of being carried off the pitch.

* * *

 The Quidditch pitch was filled with students who were either really nervous, really excited, or showing no particular emotion. Harry was one of those showing no emotion, because he didn’t want to appear vulnerable. He had learned from his cousin Dudley that bullies went after those who looked like easy targets, and Harry was not going to be an easy target here.

Several of the Slytherin first-years seemed quite pleased with Harry; his sixty points had brought Slytherin to a strong start, compared to the other houses. But this meant that the looks Harry was getting from the other houses, and especially James Potter, were a lot less friendly. Harry was half tempted to tell James exactly who he was when he caught the twelve-year-old glaring at him, but decided against it because it would bring unwanted attention.

“I can’t wait to be done with this class! I am not a flying child! I always hated it when I was younger, and I’m afraid my feelings towards flying have not changed,” Alex muttered, frowning at the broom in front of him. 

Harry wasn’t sure whether the boy wanted to kick the broom or burn it, but he could tell that his intentions toward were violent. As for himself, he was excited by the idea of flying; it was the falling part that made him nervous—the part where he hit the ground and landed himself in the Hospital Wing.  

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Harry said, leaving out how lucky he thought Alex was to at least have some experience. Some of the students were taught to fly before they could even walk. If you could prove you knew what you’re doing at this first class, you were excused for the duration of the year. Harry figured he would be stuck taking this class for the whole term. 

“Alright, I want you to hold your hands over your broom and say ‘UP’,” Madam Hooch said as she made her way towards the students, who simply stared at her without moving a muscle. She had not taken attendance or even given a speech about safety.

“I meant today!” Madam Hooch snapped, wrenching Harry’s attention back to reality. He made his way to a broom, nearly tripping over a few other students.

“Up!”

Harry wasn’t expecting his broom to jump into his hand the first try, and wasn’t prepared for the impact. He was one of only five students to successfully get his broom up. The other brooms were rolling on the ground or simply didn’t move at all. Alex’s only rose high enough to smack him in the nose before falling back to the ground.

“Every single time,” Alex growl as he shot the broom a glare that could bring small children to tears. 

Harry fought the urge to laugh, but he wasn’t able to hide his smirk fast enough, earning a glare from Alex.

After the whole class finally got their brooms in their hands, Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount them and kick off from the ground. Harry listened very carefully, not wanting to make a fool out of himself. He almost wished he could take notes without looking like a major nerd.

“Alright, now mount your brooms and kick off. I want you to hover in place for a few seconds,” Madam Hooch instructed as she performed the maneuver on her own broom.

Harry mounted his broom and felt an overwhelming sense of pride when he rose into the air and hovered in place two feet above the ground. There was a rush of excitement as he wiggled his toes over the grass. The feeling of being this high was amazing, and he couldn’t wait until he could go higher.

“Good job; now we are going to warm up by doing a lap around the pitch at thirty feet,” Madam Hooch said as she started to go higher. “Copy my motions and keep both hands on your brooms at all times.”

As Harry followed Madam Hooch into the air, his feeling of excitement grew. He couldn’t believe how right it felt. They made their way around the pitch, picked up speed, and the feeling of the wind in his hair was almost addicting. Why had he been so afraid?

“We are going to make our way up to fifty feet and start working on some drills. Pace yourselves and slowly start to climb. We’ll do one lap at that height, so you can become more comfortable with the altitude,” Madam Hooch said. “And if anyone experiences dizziness, nausea, or double vision, please land immediately.”

Harry felt such a thrill as he went higher that it took everything he had not to yell for joy. He was so preoccupied with flying that he didn’t notice the phial of potion slipping out of his pants pocket until he saw it falling. Instinct kicked in immediately and he dove towards it. He’d spent too much time brewing it to lose it now. 

As Harry dove towards the ground, he found himself moving faster and faster. Finally, within a few feet of the ground, he snatched the phial and picked up the nose of the broom just in time to prevent himself from crashing hard into the grass. His heart raced with excitement and adrenaline as he started back up towards the class. He had barely risen ten feet before a pale-faced, wide-eyed Professor Slughorn came running onto the pitch. The older man looked like he couldn’t believe what he had just seen.

“Mr. Potter!” he shouted. “Mr. Potter, you will follow me!”

Harry looked up at his awe-struck classmates before he landed his broom and followed Professor Slughorn to the castle. Slughorn would occasionally turn around and give him a searching look before picking up the pace. When they walked into the Great Hall, towards the Slytherin table, Harry grew confused. There was a group of fifth-years playing a game he didn’t recognise.

“Pierce! Come with me!” Slughorn called, before turning and walking out of the Great Hall. 

Harry and Michael Pierce followed Slughorn to a classroom. The boys struggled to keep up, and once they reached the classroom, they were both winded. Harry knew why he was there, but was unable to figure out why the older student was there. What did he have to do with Harry’s punishment? Clearly, Michael was thinking the same thing because he shot Slughorn an impatient but questioning look.

“Michael!” Slughorn cried, his face breaking into a wide smile as he turned to face the older boy. “I have found you a seeker!”

Harry’s eyes widened at Slughorn’s words. He had heard of seekers in the game of Quidditch. 

“But first-years aren’t allowed to be on the team,” said Michael. 

“I will speak to Dumbledore and we’ll get that rule bent! Don’t you worry about it, because I just watched this boy pull out of a fifty-foot nose dive just before hitting the ground, and catch a phial of potion at the same time! Can you think of a better seeker?”

Michael turned to face Harry, one hand extended. “Welcome to the Slytherin Quidditch team,” he said, shaking Harry’s hand. 

Harry could scarcely believe what was happening, but agreed to meet Michael in the Quidditch pitch on Saturday for a breakdown of the game. For now, he was to keep quiet about it so they could catch the other teams off-guard.

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