Johnny had never believed he would meet boys he hated more than the boys in his school, but that was before he met Ronald Weasley. Thankfully due to a time-table change, first-year Slytherin's only had Potions with the Gryffindor's, so Johnny didn't have to put up with Weasley much. Or at least, he didn't until he spotted a notice pinned up in the Slytherin common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Johnny darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Weasley.

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Pansy reasonably. "Anyway, look at Malfoy, he's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but he's all talk, he'll make a bigger fool out of himself."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Weasley would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on one of his brothers old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Apparently Weasley had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about football. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.

Hermione was almost as nervous about flying as Johnny was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, and Johnny was staring at her with heart eyes, not that Hermione noticed, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things -- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "... you've forgotten something..."

"You've forgotten your robes, Nev," said Johnny with a small smile. "I'll come with you to get them if you want?"

Neville was about to thank Johnny when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry, Ron and Johnny jumped to their feet. The three were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Johnny followed Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors as they hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The rest of the Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Johnny glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's and Johnny's broom jumped into their hands at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Johnny, Harry and Ron all shared a delighted smirk when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two--"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Johnny saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and --

"Arresto Momentum!" Johnny yelled, his wand pointing at a falling Neville, who was slowing down thanks to Johnny's spell, but it wasn't enough as a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Johnny heard her mutter. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"Scaletta, well done on your quick thinking! Twenty points to Slytherin! Now, 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."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins, minus Johnny, Pansy and Blaise joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Stephanie Cattleman, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry and Johnny quietly in unison, both giving each other a look of respect. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find -- how about -- up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter! Mudblood!"

Both Harry and Johnny grabbed their broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move -- you'll get us all into trouble."

Johnny ignored her for the first time. Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -- and in a rush of fierce joy he realised he'd found something he could do without being taught -- this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron and Blaise. Harry soon joined him.

They turned turned their broomsticks sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," Harry called, "or we'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Johnny knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Johnny made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy!" Harry called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down -- next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball -- wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching -- he stretched out his hand -- a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist. Harry then threw the ball upwards towards Johnny's awaiting hands. Johnny chuckled happily as he tossed the all between his hands.

"HARRY POTTER AND JOHNNY SCALETTA!"

Johnny's heart sank faster heart sank faster than Harry just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. Johnny flew down next to Harry, both trembling in fear.

"Never -- in all my time at Hogwarts--"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, " -- how dare you -- might have broken your neck--"

"It wasn't their fault, Professor--"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil--"

"But Malfoy--"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, Scaletta, follow me, now."

Johnny caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as they left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. They were going to be expelled, Johnny just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend them, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at them; they had to jog to keep up. Now they'd done it. They hadn't even lasted two weeks. They'd be packing their bags in ten minutes. What would his father and Caterina say when he turned up on the doorstep?

Professor McGonagall met up with Professor Snape outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood and Flint for a moment?"

Two burly fifth-year boys who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

"Follow me," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood and Flint looking curiously at Harry and Johnny.

"In here."

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor Snape slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two First years boys.

"Scaletta, this is Marcus Flint. Flint-- Professor McGonagall has found you a competent Chaser."

"And Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I've found you a Seeker."

Wood and Flint's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?" The two said in unison before glaring heatedly at each other.

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's are a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, boys?"

Harry and Johnny nodded silently. They didn't have a clue what was going on, but they didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to their legs.

"Apparently Potter caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor Snape told Wood, then turned to Flint. "And Scaletta managed to catch the small object from fifty-five foot off the floor. Quite impressive."

Wood  and Flint was now looking as though all their dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch?" Wood asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team, as Flint is captain of the Slytherin team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. Flint did the same, weirding Johnny out slightly. "Well built -- speedy -- we'll have to get them a decent broom, Professor -- a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Professor Snape in the face for weeks..."

"And you still owe me ten galleons," Snape drawled out, a cocky smirk on his face.

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry and Johnny.

"I want to hear you're training hard, boys, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

"You're joking."

It was dinnertime. Johnny had just finished telling Blaise and Pansy what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Blaise had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Chaser?" Pansy said. "But first years never -- you must be the youngest house player in about--"

"-- a century," said Johnny, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Flint told me."

Blaise was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Johnny.

"I start training next week," said Johnny. "Only don't tell anyone, Flint wants to try and keep it a secret."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Devon Montague, sliding into a seat opposite Pansy and Johnny, Elizabeth Montague also sitting next to him. Devon was the other Chaser on the team and he fourth year while Elizabeth was a Seeker and was a second year. "We've won every year since Charlie Weasley left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Johnny, Marcus  was almost smiling when he told us."

"Anyway, we've got to go, Roderick Storm reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school," Elizabeth said, waving at them as she got up, pulling her bother with her.

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found. See you."

Elizabeth and Devon had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Scaletta? When are you and Potter getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly, walking over to stand next to Johnny. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only -- no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron, Harry and Johnny looked at each other, Blaise and Pansy looking between the three.

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually. Catching the look on Harry and Johnny's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Johnny suggested, waving at his Slytherin friends and sitting down next to Ron and Harry.

"Excuse me."

The three boys looked up. It was Hermione.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron. He groaned as Johnny punched him in the ribs.

"Hey Hermione," Johnny said with a wide smile. Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry. "Wow, what am I? Shit underneath your shoe?"

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying--"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"-- and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Good-bye," said Ron.

At half-past eleven, Johnny was stood outside the Gryffindor portrait hole when Ron and Harry came out with a bickering Hermione.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"Go away."

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so--"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Unlucky," Johnny laughed.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.

"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."

The three boys hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

"You are not."

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."

"You've got some nerve -- " said Ron loudly.

"Shut up, both of you!" said Johnny sharply. "I heard something."

It was a sort of snuffling.

"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.

It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"Thanks 'Mione, now I can get in the Gryffindor common room," Johnny smirked triumphantly.

"How's your arm?" said Harry, ignoring Johnny.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good -- well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later--"

"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville.

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."

Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry and Johnny hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Johnny  expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

"The two were talking when I come to meet you," Johnny said in confusion. "They should be here by now."

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. The five edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Johnny raised his wand when they heard someone speak -- and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Johnny waved madly at the other four to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Johnny mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"Figlio di puttana! (Son of a bitch!)" Johnny yelled.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the five of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following -- they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry and Johnny in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going -- they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I -- told -- you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I -- told -- you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"Y0u only have to walk a few corridors! I've got to go back past the trophy room!" Johnny panted, trying to slow down his rapid heart rate.

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realise that, don't you? He was never going to meet you -- Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

By the look on Harry's face, he thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves -- please -- you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door -- and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Johnny's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open -- they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go ?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right -- please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay -- get off, Neville!" Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What ?"

Johnny turned around -- and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare -- this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

The four Gryffindor's yelled out in fright, running out the door they came in, but Johnny simply held his hand out for the dog to sniff. Once the three headed dog realised the young boy was friendly, it laid down and the three tongues gave Johnny a lick.

"Good boys."