Chapter Text
"Well if it isn't the pampered prince himself." A sneering tone drew Harry's attention as Ron Weasley broke from the clusters of Gryffindor first years waiting for their flying practice as the lines of Slytherin first years approached lead by Harry and Draco.
"Hey Potter, glad to see you finally show for class. How many points did Snape have to give you to finally get you up off your lazy arse?" Weasley jeered.
"None, Ron." Harrry answered with a troubled sigh as he gestured for his suite-mates to stay out of it when he heard their affronted grumbles, knowing Professor Snape wouldn't be happy with them if they got into a fight. "That's not how Professor Snape awards points."
"Oh, that's right, Snape's a real git with the points. We have to get our potions perfect, or he doesn't even notice, and the questions he asks cant bloody well even be from the same book because only Goody two shoes Granger can answer them, but you – you just slurp up a bit of cereal and the bloody git practically showers you with points."
Paling as Weasley's comment drew glares from a number of Gryffindors, Harry stared at the angry redhead in bewilderment.
"Ron, why are you acting like this? I thought you wanted to be my friend." He immediately regretted the question though as he watched Draco stiffen out of the corner of his eye and heard his suite-mate's grumblings. He must have sounded so pathetic. He was already letting everyone down on his first day of classes. If it Millicent hadn't repeatedly scolded him for looking weak by staring at the ground, Harry would have locked his eyes on his feet to avoid Weasley's.
Flushing at Harry's comment, Ron growled, "I did before you decided you wanted to be a slimy snake in the grass."
Harry could almost feel the entire line of Slytherins behind him stiffen angrily at his comment and knew that he had to do something, but he had no idea what to do. Both Draco and Millicent had told him that objecting to name calling only let an opponent know that the names were hitting their targets, but he couldn't think of any other response. He had chosen the Slytherin house and didn't understand why it was supposed to be the wrong choice. Everyone in the house had been so nice to him and had really helped him.
Before he could figure out a response, a plump Gryffindor with ebony hair and flashing brown eyes came up and caught Weasley's arm and chastised, "Ron, stop. You know the sorting hat put him in the Slytherin house for its own reasons."
"No, it didn't. He asked for it. The hat said so." Weasley retorted sharply, glaring at Harry as he continued, "I asked the sorting hat why he was put in the same house as a bunch of death eater's kids. You know what it said? He chose it. He wanted to go there. He wanted to go into the same house as the bastard that killed his own parents. How sick is that?"
Behind him, Harry heard curious murmurs as his year mates heard that he had chosen their house, but the murmurs quickly turned to angry growls as the Gryffindor continued.
"So?" asked the pudgy Gryffindor that Harry remembered being introduced to on the train, ""What if he did? He probably had a good reason to, and I'm sure that the hat wouldn't have put him in his house if he wouldn't do well there."
"You're blinking mad if you think any good will come of him being a snake." Weasley's face grew red faced as he practically yelled at his housemate.
"Looks to me like goods already come of it; he's a lot less tense than he was on the train, and if his professor gives him points for eating – all the better. He could use a bit more substance to him by the looks of it."
Harry was torn between being embarrassed that the Gryffindor, Longbottom – if Harry remembered correctly, felt he had to stand up against a housemate for Harry and relief that Longbottom had – because he would have probably messed it up. His relief immediately evaporated, though, as he glanced sideways to Draco and realized that his friend was adamantly avoiding his eyes with an angry expression.
"Naja?" he whispered urgently.
"Not now." Draco answered icily and pushed by Ron as Madame Hooch approached. It took a push from Millicent to get him walking beside Draco in shock and shame when he realized that he had already messed things up. He should have stood up for his house and told everyone that he was glad to be there instead of waiting for a Gryffindor to do it for him. By not doing so, it must have seemed like he agreed with Weasley's comments.
He hadn't realized that tears must have come to his eyes until Draco hissed, "Blink your eyes and, for Merlin's sake, don't sniffle. Here she is."
"Ah, Mr. Potter, how good of you to join us." Madame Hooch greeted Harry bluntly and glanced about oddly as several of the Gryffindors broke out laughing.
Worried by Draco's brush off and still angry expression, Harry chewed his lip nervously hoping that he wouldn't embarrass his house further with a poor performance when he got on the broom. As if she read the anxiety plainly on his face, which she probably did because Harry still hadn't managed the untouchable expression they were supposed to be able to put on at a moments notice, the flying instructor shooed him out of the way like a kindergartener and explained, "Well, Harry, let me get this lot up and running their drills, then I'll be back to tell you how to call your broom up."
"I can, Madame Hooch." Longbottom offered before any of Harry's suite-mates could, and Madame Hooch nodded quickly, clearly pleased not to have to deal with Longbottom in the air.
"Thank you, Neville. Just remember the extra sessions that we had if there's any difficulty."
As his housemates passed, Harry tried to meet their eyes hoping to see how many of them might be mad at him, but none would look his way. Instead, their eyes were focused on the intricate obstacle course that the professor was explaining as they walked away.
"Hey," a gentle hand on his shoulder drew Harry's attention back to the present. "Don't worry about your mates. They'll get over it quick enough when they realize you weren't doing anything wrong. Now, Gran says you were raised by muggles. Have you ever been on a broom before?"
Harry shook his head and studied the brooms that Longbottom was laying out parallel to them.
"Okay then, we'll start from the very beginning. It can be pretty spooky to be on a broom the first time, but our first year brooms are spelled to help us stay on and to read our skill so it keeps us at a safe distance from the ground. The first time I went up, though, I had a bit of a wonky broom and ended up falling off and hurting my wrist but Madam Pomfrey fixed it all up. I think you were asleep when they brought me into the infirmary."
Harry's head shot up at Longbottom comment. He hadn't been wearing his glamours in the infirmary, so the Gryffindor had to know. When their eyes met, the increasing anxiety tightening his chest eased at the glimmer of acceptance and concern in the boy's gaze. Something in the expression made Harry think that Longbottom wouldn't tell. That was one blessing at least.
"Uhhh…" he paused, not quite knowing what to say.
"Sorry, I forgot, we really didn't have a proper meet and greet on the train did we? My name is Neville Franklin Longbottom. Technically, I am the Head of the Ancient and Noble Longbottom House, or at least I will be when I reach my majority, but in reality my gran runs things, and I really don't think I'll want to take over things any faster than necessary. She has this way of getting people to do what she wants that I just don't have, and besides I'd like a few years after school to do some things that I'd like to do before I have to take on the headaches."
"Hi. Neville, or is it Franklin? Millicent told me that there is some tradition about the names of head of house holds, but I can't seem to remember it right now. Anyway, hi." Harry answered shyly extending his hand before he remembered how he was supposed to answer, "I mean, hello, my name is Harry James Potter. I will be the Head of Household for the Ancient House of Potter. I can't remember whether Millicent said whether its an Ancient and Noble or just and Ancient house. But, I guess I'll have to take it over when I'm old enough because the goblins at Gringotts are overseeing it for now."
"I suppose you'll have to then. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance by the way and it's Neville. Oh, yes. The tradition isn't that big of a deal, at least not to me. Heirs and Potential Heads of House can't change their names or use nicknames publicly. And your house is definitely both: Ancient and Noble that is. I've a book on family histories of the Ancient and Noble houses that you could read later if you like."
"Thank you, Neville, I would."
"Great, I'll bring it to potions, you can get it back to me whenever you feel like. Oh, by the way, thank Draco for me."
"Okay, I will. Could I ask why?"
"Sure, I doubt he'd keep it a secret from you if you asked him anyway. Gran gave me this rememberall ball that was driving me spare. It fogged up when I forgot something but never told me what I'd forgotten. Anyway, I was whinging about it in the library first week and he told me he'd help me take care of it, and he did."
"Really?" Harry asked curiously, wondering why Draco hadn't said anything to him about it.
"Yep."
"What did he do?"
"Ask him about it, he can give you the full story, but we should really start practicing now. Hooch will be back in a few seconds."
Realizing that Neville had been distracting him until his uneasiness had died down some, Harry flashed a weak smile at the Gryffindor and nodded.
"Good, now hold out your hand like this and …" Neville went on to explain the process then stepped back and let Harry try.
"Up!" the small boy called hopefully then flushed when the broom barely rolled.
"Up!" The half rolled to the side.
"Up!" the half roll diminished to a soft jump as Harry's hope to pull it off quietly died.
"Up." He sighed and shook his head before looking up at Neville.
Neville wasn't watching him though; instead, his eyes were focused on his housemates as they swept through the relay portion of the course. More precisely, his eyes were narrowing as he watched Weasley dragging behind in the Gryffindor formation – far enough behind that when he dropped the bludger that he'd been carrying through the course, it fell like a rock directly into Draco's path.
Reacting purely on instinct, Harry grabbed the broom handle and he was barely astride the broom before he was shooting forward. Had it been any other child astride the broom, there would have been no chance of intercepting the bludger barely seconds before it would have struck Draco in the head with a force sufficient to knock him off of his broom despite the safety charms. As it was, Harry only reached the important collision point, barely a foot and a half above Draco's head by wrapping himself in a tight spiral around the broom handle. His small size and unhealthy weight minimized the wind resistance and allowed him to arc over Draco's head like a shield – taking the full force of the charm-enhanced bludger's fall - in the dead center of his spine.
The bludger's impact struck with such force that the sound of his ribs snapping away from his spine echoed across the pitch stopping everyone in their place.