Harrys POV:

Me, Fred, George, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson trail Oliver Wood through the courtyard toward the distant Quidditch pitch. Several students are outside, studying.

"I spent the summer devising a whole new Quidditch program. We're going to train earlier, harder, and longer!" He spoke as we walked in a hurry. He squinted and stopped. "What the... I don't believe it!"

I turned to see what he was looking at, and crossing the courtyard from the other side were seven boys in green robes, also carrying broomsticks. At their lead is Marcus Flint, trollish Slytherin Captain.

Ron was sitting at a table with Hermione as he looked up. "Uh-oh. I smell trouble."

"Clear out, Flint! I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today."

"Easy, Wood. I've got a note."

As Wood snatches the parchment from Flint's hand, Ron and Hermione come up to join the us.

"'I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'" Oliver looked up confused. "You've got a new Seeker? Who?"

A pasty-faced boy pushes to the front. It's... Malfoy. My heart stopped.

"Draco?"

He was smiling at Oliver, but once he saw me, his smile slowly faded.

"That's right. And that's not all that's new this year..." He smiled again, looking away from me, keeping me out of his sight. As if they were all the same people, the seven Slytherins hold out seven brand-new gleaming broomsticks. The Gryffindors look stunned.

"Those are Nimbus Two Thousand Ones."

"A generous gift from Draco's father." Flint smirked.

"That's right, Weasley. You see, unlike some, my father can afford to buy the best."

I glared at him, and I could tell he could feel it as he shuffled away from me.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."

"Herminone!" I whined, trying to get her to stop talking.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

Everyone reacts as if Malfoy has said something horrific - everyone but me, as I had a puzzled look. Instantly, Fred and George fly for Draco's throat. Oliver holds them back. "Save it for the match."

"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" Ron whips out his wand, but before he could say anything, I ran out and grabbed it.

"Ron! No!"

"He needs to be taught a lesson!"

"Ron! Please! He's a stupid boy. He doesn't deserve your time."

Ron smirked and stared at him. "It's not over." Ron then turned around and walked away. I sighed and looked at Hermione as she walked away with Ron, looking upset.

I turned around and stared at Draco, who looked happy with himself. I groan and run after him, pushing him onto the ground. I got on top of him and started hitting him with the hands, not enough to hurt him.

"Potter! Get off! Save it for later!" Oliver shouted. I cried as I kept smacking him. He looked panicked and paranoid.

"Get off of me, Potter!"

I let Fred and George pull me off. "Calm down, lad. He's not worth it. Remember what you told Ron. It's not worth your time."

I nodded in agreement because, yes, he wasn't worth my time. "Yeah, you're right. He's just a lonely little boy. Doesn't deserve anyone's time."

"Come on boys, go get some sleep and food before the big game."

I walked away with both Fred and George as they took me to the Gryffindor common room. Once we got there, I saw Ron hugging Hermione. I walked over to them and looked at Hermione confused.

"What does that mean..? Mudblood?"

Ron looked up at me and then Herminone. She shook her head and sighed.
"It means dirty blood. Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who was Muggle-born. Someone with non-magic parents. Someone... like me. It's not a term one usually hears in civilized conversation."

"That's horrible." I mumbled.

°•°•°•°•°

Mid-game in the Quidditch match, the crowd roars, watching as Slytherin Chasers, bent low over their new brooms, jet past the overmatched Gryffindors. I circle high above the pitch, searching for the Golden Snitch. Suddenly, Malfoy streaks by overhead.

"All right there, Scarhead?" I turn, eyeing Malfoy malevolently. Behind me, a bludger begins to streak toward my head.

"HARRY! WATCH OUT!" George shouted at me. He quickly swooped down and hit it away from me. I thank him as he flies away.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?"

"Just to beat your arse in something else? Of course."

I flew away from him once I saw the golden snitch, Malfoy followed in hot pursuit. We race downward, trailing the hissing snitch deep into the trench circling the pitch. Shoulder to shoulder, we race madly, driving and dodging the wooden support beams that criss cross our path.

"Why did you even join! Couldn't handle how much attention I got? Right? You wanted to be the center of attention, so you bought your way in?!"

"Bought my way in? No! Of course not! The brooms weren't even meant for the team! I asked my father for one and he bought seven!"

Directly behind us, the Bludger followed, shattering the beams as it dogs me. I brushed the wall, battling for control.

"Why do you even try then!? If you didn't want to join?!"

"Because my father! You don't know him!"

I continue on, closing on the Snitch, fingertips only inches from catching it...

"Why? Why did you even want a broom, then!?"

"For you..."