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Author's Note: Thanks once again to my beta Rayvynwood for her lovely assistance and thanks to everyone who reviewed. I always respond to them right before I upload the next chapter.

Chapter Nine - Rivals

One thing that became clear to Harry as the weeks passed was that there were those at Hogwarts who seemed to enjoy making his life difficult. Every aspect of his daily routine was hindered by these less-than-pleasant characters. In his classes, most of his teachers leaned in one of two directions concerning Harry: they either were nice to him, like his Head of House, Professor Flitwick, or they were indifferent to him, like the History of Magic teacher, Professor Binns.

However, every time Harry stepped foot into the dungeons to take part in a Potions class, it seemed that Professor Snape made it his mission to antagonize Harry throughout the class. Snape would repeatedly find reasons to vanish the contents of Harry's cauldron, giving him a zero for the day. When he could find no reason, Harry's finished potion vial would often find itself broken on the classroom floor, leaving Snape no choice but to give Harry a zero. Veiled jabs at Harry and his family would get to Harry, giving Snape reason to continually take points away from Ravenclaw. Harry would retaliate verbally, or through pranks-changing the color of Snape's robes to pink comes to mind-so it was rare that Harry would escape a Potions class without an assigned detention.

Whenever Harry could find the time to get away from classes and studying, he did his best to explore the castle he'd heard so much about in the Marauders' stories. Most of the time, it would only be Harry exploring the corridors, but occasionally he would run into Ron or Daphne and end up having a companion in his expeditions. Other times Harry would cross paths with Nym or the Weasley twins and they would point out a nook or cranny that he had overlooked.

The only downside to Harry's ventures was that lurking behind seemingly every corner was the caretaker Mr. Filch and his faithful cat, Mrs. Norris. He'd seen Filch enough times that the older man's greedy leer and grimy suit could be recognized a fair distance away. The Weasley twins had explained that the caretaker was a Squib, and seemed to always threaten the use of chains for detention, but neither Weasley boy had actually seen them used. When Harry had detention with Filch, he'd only been assigned to clean various corridors, the trophy room once or twice, and other frustrating odd jobs that could be thrust upon a first year.

With spending so much time in detention, even being supervised by Filch wasn't so bad when Harry had someone to pass the time with. More often or not, he was grouped together with Fred and George, who would use the opportunity to share the reasons they got into their detention, and how they could improve on their mayhem the next time. The more painful detentions were the ones when Snape found the time to oversee it himself. Harry had already cleaned and organized the Potions class supply closet enough times that he had memorized most of the locations for specific ingredients.

Despite the trials of Potions class and detention, they weren't the reasons for Harry's peer problems. Once his famous presence walking through the halls of Hogwarts became a regular sight, trends quickly settled amongst the other students. The older boys tended to ignore him, treating him like just another first year, while those in his year either gaped at him or glared at him. The older girls regarded Harry as cute, while those in his year would smile or blush in his presence. It didn't stop him from getting randomly hugged and smooched in the hallways as he went through his day, not that he complained as long as it didn't make him late.

The Weasleys were the only Gryffindor boys Harry could claim as friends, and some of their friends would at least acknowledge Harry with a nod when he greeted them. The Hufflepuffs in his year were friendly to Harry, mostly in part to his close friendship with Hannah, who was one of the nicest girls around. After the first few days, most of Ravenclaw treated Harry as one of their own, and he was glad he could be safe from crowding in his own common room. However, in Slytherin, most of the students followed their Head of House's example and glared and sneered at The-Boy-Who-Lived. Outside of Daphne's influence, which just stretched to the other Slytherin first year girls, there was no one else to be found in that house that didn't dislike Harry in some way. One particular first year seemed to have made it his mission to provoke Harry at any possible moment--Draco Malfoy.

"Move aside, Potter!" erupted Malfoy, pushing Harry aside and striding past into the Great Hall, his lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind.

"Oomph," grunted Harry, narrowly avoiding slamming into the wall. "Watch it, Malfoy! I'm sure if you tried, that inflated head of yours wouldn't take up so much space."

"You're one to talk, Potter," Malfoy answered, turning to sneer at Harry. "Can't go anywhere without your fan club making a scene."

"Are you jealous?" asked Harry. "It's not my fault I've done more as a baby than you've done in your life."

"It's simply that most Slytherins see you for what you are," remarked Malfoy, sending a distasteful glance towards the first year girls in his house. "A one-trick wonder. You'll get yours, Potter."

Harry stepped up aggressively to face down Malfoy. "If you're so confident Malfoy, how about we settle it right now?" he said, removing his wand from his robes.

"Right here in the Great Hall, in front of meddlesome professors? You'd like that wouldn't you?" asked Malfoy incredulously.

"Name your terms then," replied Harry. "I'm not afraid of you."

A strange look passed over Malfoy's eyes before he smirked at Harry. "Midnight. A duel. In the trophy room. Loser acknowledges the winner's greatness."

"I'll see you there," answered Harry confidently, not backing down an inch from the challenge.

Malfoy merely grunted in return and turned to leave. "Let's go, Crabbe, Goyle." The two large Slytherin first years stared blankly at Harry before turning and following Malfoy.

As Harry gazed at the retreating Slytherins' backs, a head popped up onto each of his shoulders, joining his view.

"Did my ears hear correctly?" asked the head on Harry's left.

"It did my brother, for I heard it as well," answered the head on Harry's right.

"Harry, my fellow prankster, you realize that Slytherins are a suspect lot," remarked the left head.

"And that Malfoy is as Slytherin as you can get," added the right head.

"Yeah, I know. I have a plan," answered Harry calmly.

"A plan? Do tell," replied the left head.

"I do so love plans," said the right head.

"Well, Fred, George, I have no plans to duel Malfoy. It's obvious he's going to tilt the situation to his advantage, or try at least. No, I think I want to leave a surprise for our little Slytherin, and anyone else he brings," smirked Harry.

Fred and George lifted their heads off Harry's shoulders and looked at each other before nodding and turning back to Harry. "We'll help," they chimed in.

Harry looked at the two twins and realized they'd be able to know where he could find what he needed. "Alright guys, we'll meet right after curfew, in the charms corridor--"

"No need, Harry. We'll pick you up outside your common room in Ravenclaw Tower. We know a shortcut," interrupted the twins. They gave Harry a not-so-subtle wink and continued on their way to the Gryffindor table.

Harry just shook his head in wonder and plodded over to the Ravenclaw table, giving small smiles and nods to the girls and occasional boy greeting him. He didn't see Penelope at the table so Harry sat down in the empty seat next to Terry Boot, who nodded at Harry before turning back to his porridge.

"I read the notice that was in the common room this morning," started Harry. "Flying lessons start today for all the houses."

"And I bet you can't wait to show off for everyone, Potter," muttered Michael Corner from across the table.

"Well, I certainly want to fly, if that's what you're getting at," replied Harry defensively, "I mean, first years not being able to bring their own brooms is heresy!"

"It's more about liability than anything, Harry," answered Padma Patil from Harry's right. "There are a lot of Muggleborns and even Purebloods that have never been up on a broom on their own, and Hogwarts wants to avoid any injuries or inquiries by the Ministry."

"Oh that's right, your dad's a solicitor for the Ministry, right?" asked Harry.

"That's right," replied Padma, smiling slightly and giving Harry a nudge in the shoulder. "You remembered. I'll have to watch myself around you, Harry."

Harry's cheeks pinked a bit, but he was saved from replying when a commotion broke out at the Gryffindor table. Harry and a few of the Ravenclaws stood up to try to see what was going on. From what could be seen, it looked like Malfoy had made his way over to the Gryffindors and tried to take something, but Professor McGonagall, the Gryffindor Head of House, was on the scene before any violence started.

*

It was early in the afternoon when Harry and the other Ravenclaw first years trudged out the front door and onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a cool, cloudy day, birds happily chirping as they flew by the walking students. They made their way to a section of the lawns that was relatively flat, just across from the ominous-looking Forbidden Forest.

When they arrived, the first years from the other three houses were already there, somewhat clumped together in front of what must have been over forty broomsticks lying in organized lines on the lawn. Harry knew from Nym's many rants that the quality of the school brooms were severely lacking; he also remembered how much she cried for joy when her dad had given her a Comet Two-Sixty for Christmas during her third year at Hogwarts.

The Hogwarts Flying Instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived shortly after everyone had settled around the brooms.

"Everyone, stand by a broomstick," she barked out. "Hurry it up; there's no room for stragglers in this class."

After Harry recovered from Madam Hooch's outburst, he exchanged glances with Daphne, who had found him once the Ravenclaws had joined the others. The Slytherin boys smugly strutted out to the nearest brooms and slowly the rest followed suit, some of the girls waiting to see where Harry would choose to be. Harry noticed Ron glaring at the Slytherins from his broom, and decided to choose the one right across; Daphne and Hannah grabbed the ones on either side of Harry. The rest quickly grabbed the nearest broom to Harry they could as Madam Hooch's patience seemed to be wearing thin at the scene.

"Now that we've finally /settled/," Madam Hooch rolled her eyes, "stick out your dominant hand over the broom and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" chorused the entire class.

Harry's broom leaped into his hand at once, the years of practice with Nym and the Marauders out of his mum's sight clearly showing. Daphne's took a little longer than Harry's to reach her hand, but it came quite steadily. She wasn't one to be left out of activities at the estate. Daphne didn't mind flying, but steered clear from Quidditch. Hannah's shook on the ground a bit, but with Harry murmuring encouraging words to the girl, it slowly made it to her hand, resulting in a beaming smile directed at Harry.

Ron seemed to be trying to help Hermione Granger with her broomstick. Arguing was more like it. Hermione refused to put away a roll of parchment in her hand that she kept referring to as the broom just rolled lazily on the ground. Ron's face was getting very red, but before Harry could step in, Madam Hooch approached the girl and set her straight and soon enough the broom, however unwilling, was in Hermione's hand.

Madam Hooch continued down the line showing the first years how to properly mount their brooms, and the correct grip to have. Harry and Daphne couldn't help but smirk when Madam Hooch informed Malfoy that he was holding his broom incorrectly. Malfoy's reddening cheeks and scowl could be seen clearly from Harry's location.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off the ground hard," instructed Madam Hooch. "Keep a steady grip on your brooms and rise a few feet and come back down by leaning forward. Now, on my mark--"

Before Madam Hooch could announce the countdown, a Hufflepuff boy down the line began to shakily rise, quickly gaining height at an erratic pace.

"Boy!" shouted Madam Hooch. "Come back down!"

But the boy had no control on the flight of the broomstick, and once it had seemingly straightened out, the broom tilted forward launching the Hufflepuff off the broom like a bucking bronco. With a sickening thud, the boy slammed into ground, a whimpering mess on the lawn. Harry couldn't tear his eyes from the gruesome sight; he had felt both Hannah and Daphne jump at impact. The former was currently burrowing herself into Harry's arms, unable to watch, while the latter was watching the boy's broom lazily float towards the Forbidden Forest before it disappeared from her sight.

Madam Hooch quickly rushed over to the boy, and looked him over, her face as pale as the Hufflepuff's. "Looks like a broken wrist," Madam Hooch murmured, sighing in relief. "Come boy, up and about. You'll be fine once we get you fixed up."

She helped up the Hufflepuff and turned back to the rest of the first years. "Not one broomstick is to be in the air while I am gone. Disobey and you'll be out of Hogwarts so fast you won't even remember you were here. Come along, dear." Madam Hooch directed the boy, who was holding his wrist gingerly while tears came down his face, to walk beside her as she helped him back toward the castle.

Once the two were out of range, Malfoy and the Slytherins were quick to start trouble. They began joking about the Hufflepuff's unfortunate accident, even doing imitations of his fall. Harry was smart enough to let it alone and ignore the idiots while he conversed with his friends, but one Gryffindor didn't back down.

"You boys should be ashamed of yourselves," scolded Hermione Granger. "Poor Neville has a hard enough time as it is. He must be heartbroken."

"Ooh, sticking up for the Squib?" remarked Pansy Parkinson, much to Daphne's chagrin. "I forgot, you must be looking out for your future husband."

"Look at this!" said Malfoy, darting towards Hermione and snatching the parchment that was partially protruding from her robes. "Granger needed help with flying. Perhaps you should take the hint and leave, /Mudblood/."

Harry's eyes snapped to Malfoy once the insult left the Slytherin's mouth. Daphne tried to hold Harry back, but he pulled away, pushing Hannah towards her. "Give that back and /apologize/, Malfoy," Harry demanded quietly. The rest of the first years became silent as they focused on the confrontation.

Malfoy's eyes flashed at the obvious challenge. "I think not, Potter. I think I'll put it somewhere Granger can't get it--how about a tree?"

"Malfoy--" but before Harry could continue, Malfoy had already kicked off the ground and risen into the air.

"Come and get it, Potter," taunted Draco, his sneer still visible despite his height.

Harry quickly grabbed the nearest school broom on the ground and ignored the pleading from Hermione and his friends. He quickly stunned the other first years at the smoothness of his mounting and flying of the broom. Despite the broom's deficiencies, Harry quickly gained on Malfoy, shifting his weight to lessen the drag on the broomstick.

He quickly cut off Malfoy before he could reach the edge of the forest; a shocked look resonated on the boy's face. "Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry, "or I'll knock you down and take it from you myself."

"You're not in the position to make demands, Potter," replied Malfoy, attempting to slowly back away from Harry.

Harry didn't bother to reply; he leaned forward on his broom and rocketed towards Malfoy, intending to knock the boy down. Malfoy barely avoided the charge, nearly slipping off his broom.

Malfoy was clearly unnerved by Harry's bluntness and decided to cut his losses. "You want it, Potter," sneered Malfoy, "catch it then!" Malfoy launched the roll of parchment into the air while he darted to the ground.

Harry quickly focused on the airborne object, tightening his grip on the school broom, and leaned forward, entering a steep dive, trying to catch the parchment before it fell in the nearby lake. The broom shook as Harry tried to push everything he could into it, and just before the parchment hit water, Harry's hand snatched it out of the air, his knuckles skimming the surface of the lake.

He turned about on the broom and landed gently on the ground, swarmed by the enthusiastic cheers of his fellow first years, while the Slytherin boys looked on grumpily. Harry handed back the scroll to a stunned Hermione, and was soon bombarded with hugs from blushing girls and pats on the backs from the boys, save for the few that didn't care for him. Harry was so entranced by the welcome that he didn't realize he had been watched from the castle, nor did he notice the small figure marching down the field to the group of first years.

"MR. POTTER!"

Harry turned from his admirers, to see the small figure come into view. Professor Flitwick was jogging down towards them.

"I never would've believed..." The professor seemed to be in a state of shock and disbelief. "Minerva had told me many things about your father-I didn't think you would-"

"It wasn't Harry's fault, Professor--" started Daphne.

"That's enough, Miss Greengrass--" cut off Professor Flitwick.

"But Malfoy--" pleaded Ron.

"Is not a part of this matter, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter, please follow me." The diminutive professor shook his head and led Harry towards the castle, murmuring to himself along the way.

As Harry followed his Head of House up the stairs, through the main doors and down the halls, all types of terrible thoughts were going through his head. His dad and his friends got into tons of trouble, but nothing as severe as this, as far as he knew. Harry just imagined having to return back to the estate, the welcoming gaze from Bonnie and his sisters, the understanding look from Uncle Sirius, the bewildered look from his dad, and what just broke Harry's heart was imagining the disappointed look that his mum and aunts would have.

Harry's focus on his thoughts had distracted him from the fact that Professor Flitwick had stopped outside the Defense classroom. He opened the door and poked his head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Quirrell, could I borrow Mr. Sutcliffe for a moment?" requested the Ravenclaw Head. Harry could hear a stuttered response, and soon enough the door opened more widely to let out a tall blonde-haired Ravenclaw boy, looking quite confused when he noticed Harry standing in the hallway behind Professor Flitwick

"Follow me, you two," replied Professor Flitwick, leading the duo to his office in the charms corridor. He closed the door behind them, while Sutcliffe looked from Harry to Professor Flitwick, trying to understand why he was being involved.

"Mr. Potter, this is David Sutcliffe, Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch squad," introduced Professor Flitwick. "Sutcliffe, I've found you a player."

"Are you serious, Professor?" asked Sutcliffe. "His dad's skills are still legendary around Hogwarts."

"Yes, I am, Mr. Sutcliffe," answered Professor Flitwick, "Mr. Potter here, during first year flying lessons, dove to the ground and caught a roll of parchment before it hit the ground. The speed and precision he showed on a substandard broom was simply amazing."

"Well, there is a second-year girl who's wanted to be Seeker since last year," said Sutcliffe uncomfortably, "and she's good. It was sort of understood she'd be getting the position when Stevens graduates next year."

"Well, the skills young Mr. Potter here has shown makes him quite versatile," Professor Flitwick replied easily, "I'm sure you'd be willing to play Chaser, Mr. Potter?"

Harry had been so stunned by the turn of events that it took him a second to realize he was being addressed before he nodded jerkily.

"Well there you go, Mr. Sutcliffe, a five tool Quidditch player and a first year to boot!" proclaimed Professor Flitwick happily.

"That could work, Professor," replied Sutcliffe, his frown slowly turning into a smile as he took Harry in. "Jorgensen was complaining that he wanted more time to study for his NEWTs, but we hadn't a replacement that would be available long-term. Potter here would just be the thing! You're handy with the Quaffle as much with the Snitch?"

"Yeah," answered Harry, finally finding his voice. "My dad made sure I knew my way around a Quaffle before he let me chase Snitches."

"Excellent then!" said Professor Flitwick. "I think the time is right for Ravenclaw to make a stab for the Quidditch Cup. I can't wait to see Severus's and Minerva's faces when they see our new player!" The small professor leaped into the air in triumph and left his office, leaving two bemused students behind.

"I thought first years couldn't bring their brooms, let alone play Quidditch?" asked Harry.

"Don't worry about it, Potter. Our Head of House was probably too excited to mention the details, but I'm positive he'll take care of it. And until you can get a broomstick here, you'll have to make do with a school broom, but from what Professor Flitwick said, I doubt it'll hold you back much."

"Oh," answered Harry dumbly. "OH! My mum is going to kill me. They'll want to know how I got myself into this position and oh boy..." Harry trailed off at the thought.

"Listen, I'll talk to the rest of the team and inform them about this new development and swear them to secrecy until the first match. I'm sure Jorgensen will be thrilled to hear he won't have to stretch his time between his studies and Quidditch. I'll want you to meet our Seeker-to-be, Potter. She watches practice from the stands, then once we finish up, she goes through some exercises Stevens and I devised to train her up. She's quite nimble and very competitive. I'm sure she'll welcome you flying with her as well, just in case something goes wrong. You can never be too careful. Oh, and welcome to the team," finished Sutcliffe with a smile.