Harry wound up taking Draco's advice for classes to attend. Some classes were mandatory of course, but there were electives. In the end, he and Draco wound up with the same timetable: Charms, History of Magic, Defence Against the Dark Arts (DADA, over which acronym they shared a snicker), Transfigurations, Potions, Herbology, Astrology, and then Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, their electives for the year.

Charms covered your basic homely spellcasting such as levitation, grooming, summoning, cleaning, repairing, and so on. History of Magic was pretty much self-explanatory, covering the history of the wizarding world and its many races. DADA was a self-defence class which taught defensive and offensive spell casting. Transfigurations covered turning one thing into another (very handy if you were caught without whatever you wanted or needed). Potions wasn't a subject that could be pinned down quite so easily, as the many resultant liquids could harm, heal, and do many other things. Herbology was plants of course (almost an ancillary course to Potions), and how to grow and care for those plants, but Harry was amazed by what Draco told him of some of this world's plants. Astrology, because some types of magic would only work if the stars were in the right place. (Fortunately that class was only required the first two years.) Arithmancy, it turned out, was the study of spell construction through the use of numbers. One could translate a spell into numbers in order to understand how they worked; and through that understanding, be able to construct new, different spells. Ancient Runes was the study of magical symbols and their uses from cultures all over the globe.

Some of these classes would be required their entire academic careers at Hogwarts, and they would keep learning more advanced and powerful variations on the subjects. Others could be changed from year to year, or dropped after their Ordinary Wizarding Levels (OWLs). Indeed, some pupils would drop out of school entirely at that point. Others might not be allowed to continue failed classes, or could be removed from the school altogether if the results of their OWLs were too low. Those that left, for whatever reason, would attempt to find apprenticeships to learn a career.

During their conversations about the various classes, Draco found out just how ignorant of the wizarding world and its ways Harry was, and had informed the dark-haired boy that this state of affairs could not continue. No friend of his could remain so ignorant, or Harry would wind up embarrassing them both. He had informed Harry quite haughtily that he, Draco Malfoy, would be filling in those woefully large gaps in Harry's wizarding and social education.

Although Harry was willing to learn, Draco's attitude led them to their first fight. Harry had eventually overpowered his blond friend, lectured him from his position atop the boy, then hugged him until Draco forgave him. Although thin and malnourished, fighting his cousin Dudley and Dudley's friends had taught Harry a few tricks. He was still surprised when he won, but he was quick to take advantage of it. It helped, of course, that Draco had never in his life had to physically fend off anyone. Nobody had ever dared assault him.

When Draco found that all of Harry's clothing was like the outfits he'd already seen him in... Well, he was aghast. Harry didn't even have undergarments! Draco thought about it for a few days, then decided there was nothing for it: he'd have to have his mother's help. Before the end of the week he'd written and informed her of the situation, both vis a vis the clothing and Harry's abominable ignorance, what he had planned, and the tutoring he was implementing to help correct it. He then asked for help in getting his friend a decent wardrobe, and why. (With the exception of mentioning the lack of undergarments, of course. Good taste must be maintained.)

As for classes, Harry found out just how much he didn't know there, as well.

Draco, of course, was hiding how much he knew. He had been well schooled in the basics of spell casting by his father. He rather thought at least some of the other pure-bloods had been taught more than they were letting on as well, but he didn't try to find out. If he had been counseled to hide how much he knew, they had as well, and there was an unspoken code of honour to keep on that score.

"Whew! Made it!" Ron Weasley exclaimed, as he ran into the Transfigurations classroom. He looked around in triumph, gloating over his accomplishment, and threw himself into an empty seat. "Wouldn't do to have the old bat find me late first day, would it?" he said, grinning at the other person at the desk he'd sat behind. He was still very upset with Professor McGonagall. Even before he'd been Sorted he'd been in trouble with her, and afterward he'd been given a detention which he would serve that night.

Several members of Ron's House groaned, a few covered their eyes, but none said anything.

Ron looked towards the professor's desk just in time to see the cat that had been sitting on it leap off, transforming into said 'old bat'. "Bloody hell," he moaned, letting his head fall forward to bang into the top of the desk.

"You would do well, Mister Weasley, to remember a few things," a very displeased professor began, "the first of which is to never be late to lectures." Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Professor McGonagall overrode him. "Secondarily, things are not always as they seem. Thirdly," she stressed, as Ron again opened his mouth, "vulgarities are frowned upon in this school, and finally, never insult one of your lecturers; you never know where we might be. Five points from Gryffindor for the first two offences, and an additional detention for the last."

Harry had been informed of this incident by a First Year Gryffindor who was impressed with Harry's fame, and was trying to get into his good graces. Harry had merely smiled and thanked the girl, who appeared to be of East Indian stock, and gone on his way. Later he had a grand laugh over it with Draco as he related the tale to him.

"You are here to learn the art and science of brewing potions."

It was Friday, and the Slytherin and Gryffindor First Years' first potions class. Professor Snape had wasted no time in addressing the class after swiftly striding into the classroom, his robes billowing about his legs.

After giving a short speech about potions and the expectations he had of his pupils (not much), he turned to Harry. "Mister Potter! What would you get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" the hook-nosed professor asked.

Harry was taken by surprise, but tried to remember what he'd had a chance to read before coming to Hogwarts, and since. However there was too much he'd read, and not enough time to study and memorise it. "I- I'm afraid I don't know, sir," Harry replied.

Professor Snape frowned at him. "Too busy to look at your text before term started, Potter?"

There was a snicker from one of the Gryffindors. It was easy to tell, because the pupils had not mixed when they entered and seated themselves, but stayed in their own respective House groups; Slytherins to the right, Gryffindors to the left.

"A point from Gryffindor!" Snape barked, before turning back to Harry.

"I suggest, Mister Potter," he said bitingly, without waiting for Harry to try to answer the last question he'd posed, "that you be more prepared for your next class with me."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied miserably.

Snape then turned and began firing questions at the Gryffindor who had snickered at Harry: Ron Weasley, of course, who fared no better than Harry had. By the time Professor Snape was through with that boy, the redhead had almost slid out of his chair in his efforts to escape the questioning, and had lost an extra three points for his House.

In the meantime, Draco had whispered that he would help Harry study and catch up, having had the potions book most of the summer: which offer Harry gratefully accepted. But he was also feeling a bit guilty for all the work to which his friend was going, to help him. (Mister Malfoy, being on the school's board of directors, had advance notice of all the texts that would be called for and had bought them soon after, but had directed Draco to spend most of his time with the potions text, it being the most complicated of the subjects.)

The professor then had them make an anti-boil potion. Draco showed Harry how to cut up the ingredients, corrected Harry's stirring technique, and generally guided him though the exercise (Draco's mother having given her son the same tips just a few weeks past.) A Gryffindor boy was less lucky, as his potion exploded on him, and he actually broke out in very painful boils.

"Weasley!" Professor Snape snapped, "Weren't you watching out for your classmate? Didn't you see him forgetting to take his potion off the fire before adding the porcupine quills? Five points off Gryffindor! And take Mister Longbottom to the infirmary! Then I want you back here to clean up this mess."

The redhead actually had the temerity to try to argue his innocence, and received another point off his House before he did as he was bidden.

Unfortunately, to Draco's mind, First Years weren't allowed on outings, so the shopping trip he had requested of his mother to buy Harry a new wardrobe had been put off until the winter hols. Reluctantly, Draco had come to the conclusion that his friend was a disgrace to Slytherin House whilst he was wearing his present wardrobe, so he had convinced Harry to let him dispose of 'the rags', and they had begun to share Draco's wardrobe (although he did have his mother send more of it from Malfoy Manor). They were close enough in size that it was possible.

The difference in Harry's appearance when not in school robes was amazing. With a haircut and eye correction, Draco thought, Harry would be even better looking. (Draco had rarely seen a wizard or witch who wasn't elderly who wore spectacles, and very few of those, so there had to be a spell or potion.) He didn't think to analyse why, but the thought of being able to see Harry's eyes better quite appealed to him.

The following weeks were busy ones for Harry as Draco drilled him in wizarding life and pure-blood customs, and tutored him in potions after they had done the class work assigned for the day.

After a days-long struggle with himself, and then extracting a solemn, binding promise from Harry to keep the knowledge to himself, Draco had also started teaching Harry the magic his father had taught him.

This is how the first of Harry's unexpected gifts had been discovered. With all the extra knowledge Draco was pouring into him, Harry was struggling a little to remember everything, so he had been sitting on his bed revising the spells he'd learned. He'd been muttering the spells and moving his hand as though he held his wand in order to practice the wrist movements without the chance of causing an accident, when it had happened.

As good luck would have it, it wasn't one of the spells Draco had taught Harry, but a charm from Professor Flitwick's class - Wingardium Leviosa. Harry was doing it over and over again, trying to get the wrist flick just right, when he heard "What?" exclaimed quite loudly.

Curious, Harry leaned around his drawn-back bed curtains. His eyes widened as he saw Vince dangling, without support, three feet in the air. When he got over his shock, a grin covered his face. "Who's done you, then?" he asked the boy.

Vincent was not amused. "Don't play the innocent with me, Potter. You're the only other in here, you pillock! Get me down!"

Harry continued to grin as he protested his innocence. "I couldn't have," he said. "I didn't have my wand!"

"Likely tale," Vince said angrily. "So that was a mouse muttering 'Wingardium Leviosa' over and over, then?"

Harry didn't answer right away. Instead, he got out his wand and incanted "Finite Incantatum," ending the levitation spell on the large lad.

Unfortunately Vincent dropped like a rock, landing quite hard on the floor. Rubbing the bruised spots, he slowly picked himself up, glowering at Harry.

"Vince, I didn't do it. I couldn't have! Yes, I was revising, but I wasn't using my wand!" Harry told the boy apprehensively, readying his wand. "But if you're going to get violent," he said, aiming as the boy started to advance... "Wingardium Leviosa!" And Vince was once more dangling in the air, though only a few inches off the ground this time.

"Potter!" Vince exclaimed, frustrated anger colouring his voice.

"See?" Harry said triumphantly. "Even if I had done it, you wouldn't be so far up as you were!"

"Someone prank you, Vincent?" came Draco's amused voice from the door. "And you were all set to blame poor Harry, here, were you? Quite clever of whoever it was, really," he drawled.

Harry shot a hurt look at the blond.

"Really, Harry!" Draco said, defending himself. "What better prank than one which can be blamed on another?"

"What of one in which the culprit is never found?" Harry argued.

"Excuse me," Vincent said, trying to get their attention. He might yell at Harry when they were alone, but with Draco around he was more circumspect. Draco, through his father, had too much influence and could get them into trouble.

"And leave everyone alert and watching for the next unexplained prank?" Draco shook his head at Harry's naivete. "No, that would make it more difficult to pull off the next one."

Harry opened his mouth to protest.

"I say!" Vincent said, quite a bit louder. Being airborne without a broom was making him a bit peaky.

"What?" Harry snapped, whirling to glare at the lad.

"All right, then; you didn't do it. Will you get me down again?" Vince requested.

Harry pinked a bit, then again cast Finite Incantatum, before turning again to Draco to resume their 'discussion'.

"'Finite' will do the same thing, you know, and faster," Draco commented, momentarily derailing Harry's train of thought.

Vince, having been able to absorb the shock of the shorter drop and stay on his feet, looked strangely at the two, and then quietly slipped out of the room.

Before Harry could recover, Draco grabbed his hand and dragged him over to his bed. "Sit!" he demanded cheerily, "and tell me what that was all about!"

Harry was a bit disgruntled about the whole episode, but he put his wand in a pocket, sat on the bed, and started telling his friend all about it. He demonstrated what he'd been doing, without watching where he was aiming (he didn't have his wand in hand, after all), and kept talking.

Draco was distracted by a movement in the direction Harry had gestured. His eyes slowly widened, and he put his hand on Harry's forearm, drawing the dark-haired boy's attention to where he was looking. There, hovering over one of the desks in the room, was Harry's Transfigurations essay for that week. "Wandless magic, Harry," was Draco's quiet, awe-inspired comment. "That's rare!"

Draco quickly pulled himself together, of course. He was a little disturbed that he'd let his emotions show yet again - his father would have been most disappointed in him - but he comforted himself with the thought that other than anger and disdain, he only did it with Harry, and rarely outside of Slytherin House. Besides which, wandless magic was rare, even amongst the most accomplished and powerful witches and wizards. He could be forgiven for being surprised that his best friend, an eleven-year-old boy, could accomplish it.

After some experimentation to prove to Harry that yes, he had levitated the parchment, and after some discussion, Draco convinced Harry to keep the ability secret: even from Professor Dumbledore, who seemed to have taken quite an interest in Harry. Harry and the headmaster actually had tea together about once a week while the old man asked after Harry's progress.

"You may not have enemies now, Harry, unless some of the Dark Lord's old followers are still around holding a grudge, but nobody gets through life without making at least a few," Draco said from the wisdom of his one month's seniority, "and my father says the more powerful and influential you are, the more enemies you have. You never want your enemies to know your every strength and ability," was one of the many arguments Draco put forth in favour of secrecy, "and as 'The Boy Who Lived', you're famous. There are bound to be people who are jealous of you just for that stupid bit of fame."

Although Harry agreed that being famous for not dying was stupid, when he protested that the headmaster was hardly an enemy, Draco again repeated a 'my father says': this one that the more people who know a secret, the more chance that it will leak, and spread.

Harry wasn't at all sure he wanted to be powerful and influential to begin with, but after thinking on it he knew if he were, he'd never have people like the Dursleys lording it over him again. (That was something else Draco kept pounding into him: that he was more powerful than any Muggle, and it was shameful that he'd allowed himself to be pushed around like that.) Okay, so he wasn't entirely against the idea. He still hadn't any idea how to go about it. Maybe he'd just settle for being powerful enough to keep from being bullied. That brought to mind something Draco kept repeating to him over and over again: 'Father says knowledge is the key to power, Harry. The more you know, and the less the other person knows, the better.' He resolved to do much better in his classes, and pay more attention to what Draco was teaching him.

Draco was not a patient instructor. He had never had reason to learn patience. But Harry wasn't about to take attitude from a friend as he'd had to from Dudley, his cousin. So as has already been pointed out, he and Draco argued, and even fought once in a while. (Although 'tussled' would be more accurate; injuries were almost always accidental.) Harry won more often than not due to having had 'practice' with Dudley and Dudley's friends, but even when Draco won, the blond came away having a bit more respect for his friend. Draco detested physical violence, but after a few incidents of Harry tackling him before he had a chance to pull his wand, he began to see that it might have its uses. He still detested it, but he got better at it.

Draco persevered in teaching Harry, and Harry proved to be a relatively fast study, even if he rarely remembered everything the first time he was told, and had to practice unfamiliar manners and mannerisms over and over again to get them right. Not that Harry was entirely without manners; the Dursleys had seen to that, as they demanded to be treated as his betters. (Ironically, their own son was almost entirely without manners.) Having had practice hiding his emotions and thoughts while with the Dursleys - he was punished for the slightest infractions - Harry, under Draco's tutelage, got much better at it. He often helped remind Draco when the blond's temper was about to get the better of him.

Oddly enough, learning magic came far easier to Harry. Although he still needed to memorise and practise, discovering he was powerful enough to be capable of wandless magic had instilled confidence in him in that area (although Draco was almost frustrated enough to pull his hair out by the time he'd convinced Harry that he was special). Draco had him practice each spell both with a wand and without until Harry could do both. It took more concentration to do a spell without a wand, Harry found, but the power of the spell was also better - stronger.

Of course Harry's acquaintances in Slytherin didn't stay static with Draco and his 'guards', but predictably enough those he became most closely associated with were his year-mates. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini were the other two boys in his year. Zabini wasn't a bad sort, if a bit poncy for Harry's tastes, but Nott made him uneasy. It wasn't anything he could put a finger on, exactly. Nott was a bit intense and kept going on about the 'Dark Lord' his father used to follow. But Draco had told Harry what he knew of Lord Voldemort, although he was still a bit prickly about his own father's alleged (falsely, according to him) dealings with the man, so Harry kept mum during those rants and made himself scarce as soon as possible.

Then there were the girls: Daphne Greengrass was a quiet girl with light brown hair who usually seemed to fade into the woodwork. Millicent Bulstrode was large, solid, and sensitive about it. She had a temper you didn't want to tempt, as Harry and the other Slytherins had found out when Nott had got a bit mean with his teasing. They'd had to call in Professor Snape to heal the boy, in order to preserve the image of a united front to the rest of the school.

And then there was Pansy Parkinson: on the surface she was a very girly girl with a high-pitched, irritating voice, but she was strong willed, too. Not bad looking, if you liked the hard, round-faced, pug-nosed look. But Harry had taken a bit of a disliking to her. She was always following them around, pestering Draco, and interfering with their fun just by being there. She mightn't have been so bad had she been able to just shut up once in a while, and stop simpering and flirting with Draco. He'd even overheard her telling Daphne that Draco was going to be her boyfriend. Harry didn't like that. Draco was his friend, and he wasn't going to let some girl break up their friendship. Harry had seen it often enough at the state school* he'd attended before Hogwarts - once a boy had a girlfriend, his friends rarely saw him.

The subject of Harry and Draco being a bit 'touchy-feely' with each other was a mild source of teasing for the two until they learned to be more subtle about it. Crabbe and Goyle, who were as large as most of the third years, were a help in getting the others to back off, too. But that warm, tingly feeling they got whenever they touched was addictive. Not that the wizarding world cared all that much if there was more to their friendship than what showed, but Draco's father wanted Draco to produce heirs, and Draco didn't want to disappoint his father by having him hear untrue rumours.

Their first flying lesson was quite interesting. It was with the Gryffindors. Madam Hooch, a tall, wiry woman with short graying hair was their flying instructor, and the school's games mistress. She had led the small group out to the Quidditch pitch where two rows of rather tatty-looking brooms had been laid out on the ground. She had each of them stand with a broom on the side of their wand hand.

Weasley kept giving Harry surreptitious, thoughtful looks, then shooting small frowns at Draco. Harry noticed, but while he immediately dismissed the other boy, he also kept him in sight, just in case the redhead decided to take up his seeming vendetta.

Ron, for his part, was debating the advisability of trying to be friendly with 'the famous Harry Potter', even if he was a Slytherin. It might boost his social standing and bring him out of the shadows of his older brothers, if he could manage it. On the other hand, 'The Boy Who Lived' had been Sorted into Slytherin, and was a friend to that Death Eater scum's boy, Draco. Potter was probably no better than any of the rest of those snakes, despite his hero status. But if it could help him...

"Now," Madam Hooch said, instructing them, "I want you to stretch your wand hand out over your broom. Concentrate on what you want it to do - in this case, to rise into your hand - and give the command 'Up'!"

Harry did so, and was gratified to have the broom immediately rise into his waiting hand. He noticed that a few others, mainly purebloods, had the same thing happen for them, the rest having mixed results. He grinned at Draco who had also succeeded on the first try, but the blond only raised one eyebrow slightly, which reminded Harry to school his own features. Most of the others had success after a few tries. Madam Hooch went to those who were still having trouble and coached them until everyone present had succeeded, and had a broom in hand.

She then showed them how to sit a broom without sliding off, and then said, "Now straddle your broom and take a firm hold of the handle. Do not do anything else until I instruct you to do so," the instructor told them. She then began going up and down the lines, correcting pupils' grips on their brooms.

Draco rolled his eyes at this. He'd been telling Harry, and anyone who would listen, that his father had taught him how to ride a broom a couple of years earlier, and that he was now quite proficient on a broom. He'd even had a few close calls with helicopters, according to him. Harry had his doubts, but hadn't said anything.

Madam Hooch had reached them in their line. "A good, firm grip, Mister Malfoy, but..."

"I've been flying for years, madam," Draco told her loftily.

"Then you've been holding your broom wrongly for years, boy," she told him in a brisk, no-nonsense tone as she repositioned his hands in the correct grip, and then explained why it was better.

Draco blushed angrily at being corrected - and having made a fool of himself in front of others - while Harry tried desperately not to laugh at his friend's discomfiture. Against his best efforts, he let slip the tiniest beginnings of a snicker. Draco's blush deepened.

"Good grip, Potter," Madam Hooch said as she inspected his positioning. "You've flown before?"

"No ma'am," Harry said, with his own blush, now. "Just lucky, I suppose."

Madam Hooch gave a soft snort, and moved on.

"I do believe the old cow thinks we're a pair of liars," Draco murmured to Harry, once the woman was far enough away. "And thank you for the support, by the way," he added a little more coldly.

Harry gave him a sly grin. "If you hadn't been boasting..." he teased.

Draco blushed again at the truth of Harry's words, but, "I am a good flier!" he insisted.

Harry shrugged equably and turned to watch their instructor's progress. Longbottom was so eager to please that he kept moving his hands before Madam Hooch could help him find the correct grip, finally driving her to forcefully take hold of his hands and place them as they needed to be.

It was during that episode that it occurred to Harry to wonder why a wand wasn't required to do anything with brooms or flying them. Perhaps the magic was built in, making the broom a limited sort of wand or staff on its own?

Harry took the chance to ask the instructor while she was between pupils, and received an approving look from her as she agreed that such was indeed the case, and they'd be getting into a more in-depth look at that in a later class. She even awarded a point to Slytherin.

Finally done with the task of making sure everyone knew how to properly grasp their broom, the woman then made her way once again to the head of the lines. "Very good, then!" she said briskly, trying to rid herself of some of the frustration that had built up. "Now when I tell you, kick off from the ground, keep it steady at a few feet, then-"

"Longbottom!" Madam Hooch exclaimed in an annoyed tone, attracting everyone's attention to 'the pudgy boy with the toad', as Harry thought of him.

One glance was all it took to know the boy was in trouble - and not only with the instructor. Longbottom's broom was rising under him. The boy, apparently afraid of being the last off the ground, had evidently panicked and kicked off too soon, and was now terrified at the position he found himself in as the broom rose at a steady pace. He was holding onto the broom handle for dear life, but his balance was obviously wobbly.

"Longbottom! Get that broom down here at once!"

Harry looked briefly at the instructor, wondering what she saw that he didn't; because insofar as he could tell, the pudgy Gryffindor had absolutely no control over the broom whatsoever. The thing kept going ever higher. Wasn't she going to do anything to help him?

It was already too late. At about six metres above the ground Longbottom lost the fight with his balance and plummeted to the ground. Harry winced and paled at the thud and faint 'crack' sound as the boy hit. Nor was he alone in that reaction.

Madam Hooch was there almost immediately after he hit the ground, having started running as soon as she saw him lose his balance. "Broken wrist," she was heard to mutter after a hurried, but thorough examination that entailed casting a few spells of which Harry had never heard. "Come on, boy; up you get!"

At those words everyone relaxed a bit, although most of them were still shaken. He wasn't dead, and that's what they had all feared.

Madam Hooch shifted in her support of the boy as she turned to address the class. "I'll be taking Longbottom to the infirmary," she announced. "Nobody move until I get back!"

"Did you see his face?" Draco laughed immediately after they'd gone. "I can't believe the great lump fell off his broom!"

Most of the other Slytherins followed Draco's lead, and also began to laugh.

Harry knew Draco well enough to know the jeering was just to cover up his own shaken emotions, but it still upset him. "Shut it!" he said fiercely, facing his House mates. "Would you want others laughing at you if you were hurt?"

Everyone, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, stared at Harry.

Draco couldn't believe Harry was breaking House solidarity. "I wouldn't be stupid enough to fall off my broom!" he retorted.

"Maybe not," Harry replied, his voice hard, "but that's not what I asked."

They stood there, green eyes glaring into equally ferocious gray - but eventually, though his head remained unbowed, Draco's eyes shifted slightly, breaking eye contact as the weight of Harry's question overwhelmed him. "No," he finally whispered.

Harry's face softened. He would have liked to give Draco a hug, but not in front of outsiders. He did give his friend a small smile and a squeeze on the shoulder. "Sorry," Harry said, hearing someone start to laugh. "You know I didn't single you out?" He was relieved at Draco's small nod. He'd likely be in trouble with the rest of his House later, but right now...

"Weasley!" he called out, turning to the snickering boy. "Care to share the joke?" He stared into the redhead's blue eyes coldly.

"You're a bit of all right, Potter!" Weasley replied with a grin. "Not many who could make a Malfoy back down."

Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's arm as the blond reached for his wand. "Not now," he said quietly. "Too many witnesses."

"I see you've got him well trained, Potter," the redhead said, sneering at Draco.

Harry had to tighten his grip. "It's not me, Weasley," Harry replied, interrupting Draco's retort, "it's knowing what's worthy of attention, and what's not." With that he turned dismissively from the now angry, red-faced boy, but kept him in the periphery of his vision. His words had the effect of reminding Draco of priorities as well, and Harry felt some of the tension leave his friend.

"I think it's time we got into the pranking business, don't you?" he said conversationally to Draco - and then ducked, pushing Draco out of the way as well as he saw the redhead cast a spell at him. As a First Year it wouldn't likely be a very powerful or harmful spell, but...

Harry was just pulling his own wand, Draco not far behind him, when he heard "Mis-ter Weasley!" Authority had arrived in the form of Minerva McGonagall.

"Five points off Gryffindor, Mister Weasley, and a week of detention with Mister Filch," she pronounced, "and two points off Gryffindor for each of your House mates who did nothing to stop you!"

The Slytherins had started snickering as soon as sentence was pronounced on the redhead, but they were awestruck by the additional points taken - and from her own House! As soon as their shock had passed, though, their glee was evident.

"Keep it going, Weasley!" Pansy called out with a grin. "Slytherin will win the House Cup merely from your losing points for Gryffindor!"

The Slytherins roared their laughter.

Ron Weasley was doing his best to bore holes through all of the Slytherins with his eyes. It was a talent he had yet to achieve, however. And if he had bothered to look around, he would have noticed that most of the other Gryffindors were glaring at him. Eventually he did notice that he wasn't in best odour, and subsided. 'So much for trying to be friends with Potter,' he thought. 'If he was any good to begin with, he's been corrupted.'

Harry sighted a round glass ball in the grass. He remembered Draco pointing it out to him when Longbottom had received it at breakfast that morning; a Remembrall, he called it, for reminding one when you'd forgotten something. Draco had laughed about it, saying it was pretty useless if you couldn't remember what you had forgotten. Harry walked over to it and picked it up, then walked over to the Irish boy - Finnigan, wasn't it? - under the watchful eye of Professor McGonagall.

Weasley looked as though he'd like to accuse Harry of stealing it, but with all evidence to the contrary, and McGonagall keeping a watchful eye on him as well as the proceedings...

"You're Finnigan, aren't you?" Harry asked the boy. Upon the Gryffindor's nod, he held out the Remembrall. "Give this to Longbottom when you see him next," he said, and walked away. He was almost back to Draco before he heard a belated "Thanks."

"Why did you do that?" Draco asked with almost angry perplexity.

Harry shrugged. "Why not?"

"They're Gryffindors!"

"Only for seven years," Harry said offhandedly. "Aren't you always going on about making contacts?"

Draco knew for a fact that there was a perfectly sound retort for that observation in regard to Gryffindors, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of it.

"Maybe one of them will remember that someday, and do me a favour in return," Harry said, trying to mollify his friend.

That effectively shut Draco's argument down. Harry's reasoning was very Slytherin, or would have been had he been sure Harry had reasoned it out in advance, but it gave Draco something to think about in regard to his own usual mode of behaviour. "You're too nice," he groused, just to keep up appearances.

Harry smirked, and started discussing the beginnings of their prank career - Weasley being the target of choice in their minds right now.

Revenge was another respected Slytherin tradition, and Weasley had crossed them too many times already.

It was another ten minutes before Madam Hooch returned, at which point she thanked Professor McGonagall for looking after her class for her, and continued where she'd left off with them.

By the end of the lesson Draco had shown that yes, he did know how to handle a broom, and quite well at that. But Harry did just as well, which had Draco frowning at his friend. After the lesson, as they were heading back to the castle, he decided to ask about it.

"That was your first time on a broom?" he inquired doubtfully.

Harry nodded.

"I don't believe it," Draco averred recklessly. "You can't be that good without having had some practice."

Harry looked queerly at Draco, then stopped dead in his tracks. "You didn't just call me a liar," he said, too calmly.

Draco opened his mouth, then imitated a goldfish a couple of times. "I- I didn't mean to," he said, not wanting to make an already stressful day worse. "But you must admit... " He stopped, frowning thoughtfully. "No, I suppose you wouldn't know."

"Know what?" Harry asked, his voice taut.

"You were brought up by Muggles?" Draco asked, instead of replying to the question.

"Yes," Harry replied flatly.

"And you'd never set foot in the wizarding world before we met at the train?"

"Diagon Alley," Harry reminded him, still upset.

Draco nodded. "Yes, but that was just a few days prior," he said. His expression changed to one of puzzlement. "You truly never flew before?"

"I already said so," Harry said shortly. Then, tired of standing there, he headed back towards the castle again.

Draco followed quietly.

Harry didn't like being called a liar, and didn't speak to Draco again until later, after supper, and then only because Draco spoke first.

"I'm sorry," Draco said to Harry quietly in their dorm room. "It's just hard to believe anyone could be so good, their first time."

"It was," Harry stated with a glare.

Draco frowned fretfully at the floor. "I'm not in the habit of apologising to anyone, Harry," he said quietly. "I believe you." He looked up at Harry, uncertainty on his face. "Still friends?"

Harry looked at him for a moment, judging the blond's sincerity, then smiled as he walked over to Draco and hugged him. "Still friends," he said. He would have forgiven the blond eventually anyway, but he was glad Draco believed him.

A look of relief came across Draco's face as he fiercely returned the hug.