Harry adjusted his Quidditch robes for what felt like the tenth time in the last minute until Draco pulled his arms away from his uniform.

"Harry, seriously, stop worrying. It's just tryouts – no one's going to care too much if you don't get in because you're still a first-year, for Merlin's sake! It's impressive enough that you managed to get into tryouts," he assured.

"Right," Harry sighed. He glanced up to the stands where the other Slytherin first-years were assembled. They had come down to support him and he didn't want to let them down if he wasn't as good as they seemed to believe.

It was true though – he had somehow weaselled his way into trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Instead of ordering him out of the castle like Harry thought, McGonagall told Snape about Harry's skills – that he'd make a brilliant Seeker. Snape wasn't the only one who had a hard time believing this.

It took quite a lot of convincing on Professor McGonagall's part (and Harry suspected Draco's word of recommendation had a lot of sway too), but Snape was cornered into at least allowing Harry to attend tryouts. There he'd have to put his skills to the test, and if the Captain liked him – a sixth year called Marcus Flint – then he'd be on the team.

And that was how he found himself mounting the Nimbus 2000 Blaise had gifted him when he had heard the news. Draco got him gloves and Pansy had wished him luck because, in her words, that was the best gift Harry could ever hope for.

He cast one last look over to the stands.

"You'll be fine, Harry!" Draco shouted as he climbed them to sit with the other first-years.

"Yeah, you're a natural!" Tracy added.

"Just don't embarrass us too much!" Pansy yelled.

Harry smiled as he took off.

Flint had the hopeful Quidditch players running drills for half an hour. Harry dodged Bludgers as best as he could, but the Beaters – all burly fifth years or above – seemed to have it out for him. Still, he managed to move onto the next drill without any broken bones, so he counted it as a win.

He lost himself in flying. It was a rush – seeing how far he could dive, the ground rushing towards him, or shooting straight up so fast he was almost lifted off the broom. By the time they were called back to the ground, Harry didn't want to part from his Nimbus ever again.

"Alright," called Marcus. "Everyone trying out for Beater, line up over here. Chasers, opposite them, Keepers beside Chasers and Seekers beside Beaters." Everyone hurried to get into their respective groups.

There was only one other person trying for Seeker, and it was yet another sixth year. He didn't sneer at Harry like the other potential players, but he didn't exactly look like he'd be too pleased having a conversation with him.

"I'm going to split you up into two teams and Pucey will fill in for whatever team ends up with two Chasers. I'm also a Chaser, but I'm going to referee today."

Judging by the way the Slytherins paired up and attempted to dissuade another tryout from joining the pair, Pucey was a really good Chaser.

When they took off, Harry saw just how good he was and thanked Merlin that he was on his team. From the get-go, Harry's team was leading. Adrian Pucey shot across the court, passing to his teammates while the other Chasers struggled to catch up. Harry almost felt sorry for the other Keeper, but then he saw a glint of gold and rocketed skywards.

He was well aware of the fact that the other Seeker, who he had found out was called Terence Higgs, was following close behind.

The Snitch seemed to have a mind of its own. It would shoot left before plummeting towards the ground, then it would hover midair until Harry was just about to grab it before it swerved to the right and shot back up again.

He was hard-pressed to keep up with it – let alone catch it.

In the meantime, the opposing team had started to catch up pointwise. After an hour, everyone flew to the ground for a quick break.

Through his red cheeks, Adrian huffed out, "Potter, catch that bloody Snitch already. You're doing great, but I just want the rest of my Sunday back." He clapped Harry on the back and got back on his broom.

Harry followed suit, determination solidifying.

–

Slytherins descended upon the pitch as Harry landed with the Snitch in his hands.

Pansy hugged Harry and Draco assured him that he did well. Even Blaise offered a few compliments.

Marcus cleared his throat. The pitch fell silent.

"Right. Joining me and Adrian as Chaser is Graham Montague. Cassius, you're reserve. Beaters are Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick. Our Keeper is Miles Bletchley and our Seeker..."

Harry held his breath and crossed his fingers.

"...is Harry Potter. Higgs, you're reserve. Everyone else, you can head up back to the castle. We saw some good players this year, but there are so few spaces."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was distantly aware of his friends celebrating, holding him while they jumped up and down in joy.

He was given the training schedule – four times a week – but it was only until he was back inside the castle for lunch that he truly comprehended it.

Ron ran up to him as soon as he spotted him. "Is it true?" he panted out. "Did you really make the Quidditch team?"

"Of course he did," Draco retorted. "He's got Quidditch blood running through his veins!"

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, turning to him. Ron also looked rather curious.

"James Potter – your father – he was a Chaser for the Gryffindor team. Snape's mentioned it a few times, though it was mostly him complaining." Draco shrugged. "I'm sure he was great though."

The rest of lunch was spent discussing Harry's ridiculous training schedule. Pansy had heard from what she called her associates that Wood and Flint were always trying to one-up each other.

"Look on the bright side," she had said, "you probably won't have to go to any more flying lessons! You're brilliant, Potter. I don't know what you were so worried about."

"Yeah, Pansy wouldn't shut up about how great you are the entire time we were watching the game," Blaise added, earning himself an elbow to the ribs. Harry shot a questioning look at Pansy, but she had just struck up a conversation with Tracy and wouldn't meet his eyes.

–

Despite still getting out of History of Magic early, Thursday afternoons were a tad depressing. There wasn't much to do at this time, as everyone was still in class. Occasionally, he'd find Fred and George skipping class, and they'd show him secret passageways in exchange for Harry not telling anyone about what they were doing.

Harry wouldn't have done that anyway, and he was pretty sure they knew that, but their company was too much fun to give up.

After a few weeks of this, he started to talk to Hermione as well. She had quit the lessons, saying that it wouldn't help her in her studies, but Harry got the feeling she just wasn't good at it.

He was surprised when he found himself looking forward to hanging out with Hermione. She wasn't as bad as Ron made her out to be. Sure, she corrected him more often than he would've liked, but she also helped him with his transfiguration. Soon enough, Harry's matches were turning into needles on his first attempts.

One Thursday morning, he was thinking so much about what he would get up to that afternoon that he didn't even realise it was Halloween until he arrived at dinner that night. Hermione was missing that afternoon for some reason, and she still was nowhere to be found at the feast. He asked Ron about it, but he only muttered something about her running off to the toilet and didn't seem all too happy to talk about it.

Harry forgot all about it when the food appeared in front of them. The smells filled his nose and his mouth watered as he stared at the golden chicken breast in front of him.

Over the past two months, his appetite had improved drastically, especially with the added Quidditch practices.

However, he didn't get to eat more than a bite before Professor Quirrell burst into the Great Hall and gasped out, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed this. Then all hell broke loose. Panicked yells rang out across the hall and everyone stood up to find their friends.

Over the noise, they were ordered back to their dormitories and the Prefects herded their respective houses into a group.

"We are in the dungeons!" Draco hissed to Harry.

Harry wasn't listening though. He was too busy worrying about Hermione. She wouldn't know about the troll and she could very well be hurt.

This worry is what caused Harry to wait until Gemma looked the opposite way before he grabbed Draco's arm and tugged him in the opposite direction, blending in with the Gryffindor crowd. Pansy and Blaise most likely saw, but they didn't say anything. Harry had never been more thankful that he was in Slytherin.

It was hectic enough that they went undetected.

"Harry? Malfoy?" Ron called, shoving his way over to them. Harry shushed him. "Bloody hell, what are you two doing?"

"I'm going to be honest with you, Weasel. I have no clue," Draco admitted. "I think Harry's lost it."

"Bugger off, Draco," Harry replied. "Ron, where did you say you last saw Hermione?"

"Some of the Gryffindor girls were saying she went off to the bathroom after Charms. No one's seen her since." Ron's face was flushed, but Harry decided not to question it.

"Right, come on, Ron." That was all the warning the other two got before Harry tugged them towards the Hufflepuff group. They had piles of food in their arms as they were herded back to their dormitories. One of them seemed to be levitating half the table with them.

"Told you Luciana was crazy," Ron muttered, gesturing to her, but Harry ignored him as he pulled them towards a different corridor.

This one was almost completely deserted. Harry saw Snape's cloak swish around the corner at the opposite end of the hallway just as the trio arrived outside of the girl's bathroom.

They didn't get a chance to ponder why he was here instead of the dungeons as a shriek sounded from within the bathroom.

Harry swung open the door, wand out, and came face-to-face with a twelve-foot troll. Harry almost gagged at the stench. It was so powerful he felt his eyes water but he didn't let this hinder him.

Hermione was pressed up against the wall as the troll approached, readying its club.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled. Her terrified eyes met his as the troll turned around. It began to approach its three new victims.

"Reducio!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at the troll's club.

It promptly shrunk to the size of a bottle. The troll paused to frown at it before it tossed its club aside and continued lumbering over to them. When the club touched the floor, it reverted back to its normal size.

"Maybe try it on the troll next time," Harry suggested sarcastically as he pressed his back against the wall.

"You're the one who got us into this mess, Potter!" Draco snarled. He gripped Harry's arm as the troll got closer.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut just as Ron pulled out his wand.

"Wingardium leviosa!" he called, voice shaking. Harry opened his eyes to see Ron levitating the club above the troll's head.

"Any second now, mate," Harry prompted nervously. He could almost identify the mysterious grey substance on the troll's face and he'd really rather not be near that at all.

The club then fell through the air, hitting the troll across the back of his head and knocking it forward. The creature teetered for a few tense seconds before it began to topple forwards.

"Move, move, move!" Draco screamed, pushing Harry and Ron out of its trajectory. Behind them, a loud thud resonated throughout the lavatory, the tiles beneath them shaking.

"Bloody hell," Ron spoke after a moment, breaking the stunned silence between the four of them.

"You can say that again," Harry agreed. Draco looked speechless.

"Thank you," Hermione squeaked out, just as several teachers ran into the room.

Snape went over to examine the troll while Professor McGonagall checked over the students. Quirrell didn't do anything useful aside from realising he was out of his depth and sitting down.

Once she was assured that no physical harm had come to them, McGonagall hardened her stare. Hermione quickly covered for them, spinning a story of foolish Gryffindor-ness and the other three coming to her rescue. When she had finished, McGonagall gave her a disapproving look that made Hermione deflate.

Harry piped up, "Well, it wasn't all her fault, Professor. I saw the troll enter and instead of letting one of the others alert the teachers, I dragged them in. I wasn't thinking, so if you're going to punish her, then you should punish me too."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Harry took a page out of Pansy's book and elbowed him.

The witch pursed her lips. "Mr Potter and Miss Granger, five points will be taken from both your houses for this. However," her lips twitched into what Harry could've sworn was a smile, "I can't say I'm unimpressed. As first-years you've accomplished something not many witches and wizards can do, so I am awarding each of you five points."

To top it off, Snape looked like he had sucked on a lemon when he heard what McGonagall had to say. Harry left the chamber beaming so wide he was surprised Snape didn't take points off him for smiling or something equally stupid.

"You're lucky we didn't die, Harry," Draco told him. "If we did, I would've had to hex you into oblivion. Thank Merlin for Weasley."

"I mean, I probably wouldn't have been able to do anything if Hermione hadn't corrected me in Charms," Ron admitted, a bashful hand on his neck. He turned to her. "Sorry, by the way, for what happened today."

Hermione smiled. "It's quite alright. I don't know what I would've done without you three showing up, so I suppose it all worked out in the end."

By the time they reached the staircases that would split them up, the four of them had formed a friendship. They didn't need to see the future to know that it would last them for years.

–

From that point on, they were practically inseparable.

The morning after, Harry and Draco had recounted the whole ordeal to their peers, exaggerating as much as they could. Pansy had declared that she'd have to assess Hermione herself. It seemed she had passed whatever Pansy's test was because it wasn't uncommon to find the two girls comparing notes with Tracy or Pansy teaching Hermione a few advanced spells.

It was a good thing too – with his first Quidditch match quickly approaching, Harry wasn't able to hang out with Hermione as much on Thursday afternoons, but Pansy had quickly stepped up to the plate.

Flint's training was ruthless – often Harry would just finish class before he'd say a few quick goodbyes then have to rush out to make it to the Quidditch field. Anyone who was even a minute late was sent on a lap – something all the Slytherin players feared.

At least the extra practice made the days fly by. Before Harry knew it, it was halfway through November and he was walking onto the field with the entire school filling the stands.

The noise was an indistinct roar as the players mounted their brooms, waiting for Hooch's whistle. Harry made the mistake of making eye contact with Fred and George, who hit their bats against their palms while glaring. He was sure the twins meant it as a fun pre-game joke, but that didn't stop him from gulping.

When the shrill whistle pierced his ears, Harry took off.

Lee Jordan – a third-year Gryffindor boy – was commentating the match. Harry paused once he was a decent height in the air to listen to his colourful play-by-play. Occasionally Lee had a few choice words to say about Slytherins, but regardless, Harry found him funny.

The Slytherin and Gryffindor Chasers were fairly evenly matched. Harry flew a few lazy circles on the outskirts of the pitch, scanning the area for a hint of gold.

The sun was hidden by heavy grey clouds, darkening the world by a couple of shades. Harry was thankful for the gloves that Draco had given him because the wind bit at his cheeks and stung his eyes. He'd have to get the goggles that some of the other Slytherin players had.

His broom jerked underneath his hands. Harry frowned and attempted to keep flying, before he shot backwards through the sky, then jolted up and down. The wind was knocked out of him as his broom bucked around, like a mechanical bull trying to knock him off its back. Harry tightened his grip just as his Nimbus rotated, leaving Harry to hang about a hundred feet above the ground.

Looking down made his palms sweat. He knew people were shouting things at him, but he couldn't focus as him broom jerked yet again and one of his hands slipped off.

If his heart wasn't thumping in his ears, he might have heard the collective gasp from the stands below as they awaited the Nimbus' next move.

It never came.

Harry braced himself before reaching up with his free hand to grip onto the broom. He took a deep breath, before he swung himself back and forth, building up enough momentum to hook a leg over. Once he managed that, the rest was fairly simple. In a matter of seconds, he had gone from almost plummeting to his death to sitting atop his broomstick.

He spent a minute trying to get his breathing back to normal. Flint flew close enough to ask if he wanted to switch out, but Harry responded with a resolute shake of his head.

It was then that Harry spotted the Snitch fluttering behind the curious players who had gathered, and as soon as the game resumed, he sped off. The Gryffindor Seeker took pursuit, though his broom was no match for Harry's Nimbus 2000. He'd have to thank Blaise later – but that wasn't important now, because he was so, so close-

His hand closed around the cool metal of the Snitch, and the fluttering wings stilled underneath his fingers. When Harry landed on the grass below, he gazed open-mouthed at the gold lying still in the shiny black of his glove. He had done it. He had really done it!

The realisation allowed him to tune back into the real world, and around him, he could hear cheers as his teammates pat him on the back. Even Terence Higgs shook his hand, saying he had done Slytherin proud.

Harry beamed all the way to the change rooms, and he was still smiling as Draco tackle-hugged him the moment he left.

He was surprised but hugged back nonetheless. When Draco finally released him, Harry saw that Ron and Hermione were standing off to the side, frowning.

"Hey," Harry greeted, just as the two converged on him. "Not that I don't like this, but why is everyone hugging me?"

"Because you almost died!" Hermione's shrill voice reminded him, arms tightening around him.

With the high of winning, Harry had forgotten about that, but now it came back to him all at once. In the moment, he hadn't felt the sweaty palms and the absolute terror of his hand coming loose. He hadn't registered that he was one wrong move away from becoming another one of the stories people like the Weasley twins joked about to scare people, nor that the whole school might've been exposed to a mangle of limbs if he had fallen.

The smile slipped from his face. At some point, Hagrid had come up to them and had led Harry into his hut, but he didn't remember that part.

When Hagrid saw Harry blinking as he looked around the hut, he handed the shaking boy a cup of tea. The others were engaged in a heated conversation.

"It was Snape – he was muttering and staring at Harry, as 'Mione said!" Ron threw his hands up in exasperation. "Why can't you see that it was him?!"

"Because Snape wouldn't do that!" Draco snapped. "He looks after Slytherins, not kill them!"

"Oh yeah?" Ron growled. "Then please tell me how humiliating Harry is looking after him!"

"Ron, Draco, would you stop it?" Hermione huffed. "You're upsetting Harry!"

Three pairs of eyes turned to him. Harry smiled weakly. "So anyone want to fill me in?"

Everyone began to speak at once.

"We thought you lost control of your broom –"

"I took Ron's binoculars and saw Snape –"

"He wasn't cursing Harry's broom –"

"Shut up, Malfoy. Hermione and I snuck over to the teachers' stand –"

"I saw Snape's cloak and did the only thing I could think of that would break his concentration –"

"She set him on fire!"

"Only his robe, Ronald –"

"It was still amazing!"

"Han' on, han' on," Hagrid interrupted. "You suspect Snape tried ter kill 'arry?!" The Gryffindors nodded. "No way, I don' believe it! Snape is one o' the most trustworthy teachers 'ogwarts has ter offer!"

"See?" Draco exclaimed. "I told you Snape wouldn't do something like that. He was probably trying to help! He's wanted to be a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for ages – it makes sense that he'd know counter-curses or something!"

"You're grasping at straws, mate," Ron shrugged.

"Don't call me that, Weasel," Draco muttered.

Hermione shifted to face him. "Draco, don't take this the wrong way but I wouldn't be so sure about Snape. There are rumours, you know. And you can't deny that Snape treats Harry worse than any other student! Hagrid, if you saw how Snape acts in Potions, you'd understand our side!"

"Nonsense, Hermione! Dumbledore 'imself asked Snape to help protect the –" Hagrid snapped his mouth shut.

The students immediately jumped on that, trying to get Hagrid to tell them what he was going to say. Even Draco got involved in the interrogation, but the only other thing they were able to get out of Hagrid was that whatever the thing was, it had something to do with Nicolas Flamel.

At least that explained why Hagrid was so weird the last time Pansy and Draco mentioned him.

When they were eventually turned out of Hagrid's hut, they caught Hermione up on the rest of the story and made plans to research further before retiring to their separate dormitories. Harry and Draco were too exhausted to join in on the Quidditch match celebrations.

-

A/N Thanks for reading! The next chapter is one I'm really excited for (spoiler: Christmas) HOWEVER

Because I'm doing NANOWRIMO this year (50k in one month), I won't be posting for the rest of the month. Sorry!