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Chapter 12

Conflicted

Harry never could have imagined it. Instead of being punished, he'd been recommended for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Then, a week after their flying lesson with the Slytherins, he'd been sent a Nimbus 2000, the newest top-of-the-line racing broom from his parents and a very enthusiastic Howler from James. That had made him an instant celebrity among the houses, with people getting up from their chairs to take a look at the broom.

Harry spotted his brother and the rest of his friends over at the Slytherin table gawking at him, and he felt a glimmer of satisfaction. That was until he saw the look of hurt in his brother's eyes, which he quickly masked when he saw Harry staring at him. With anyone else that may have worked, but Harry knew Miles too well. 

He didn't know what to think. On the one hand, he didn't think he ought to feel guilty. At long last, he was being treated better than Miles, or rather, the same way as him, as he should have been from the start. But on the other, Miles had never asked to be treated the way he was by their parents and actually disapproved of how much they spoiled him. Besides, he'd always been nice to Harry when he didn't have to be and tried his best to share whatever he had with him. 

After breakfast, Harry attended his classes, but couldn't focus. The morning's events had driven everything else out of his mind, and he couldn't help but daydream about the Nimbus 2000, and how wonderful it would be to fly it. Then he'd imagine his brother's face and feel guilty once more. It seemed to be a neverending cycle. On top of it all, Oliver Wood had come up to him at lunch asking about meeting him at the Quidditch pitch at 7 p.m. to see if he could make the cut for the Quidditch team.

Harry knew that was probably just for show though. No doubt Oliver just wanted to see him fly, as he hadn't yet, and maybe go over the rules of the game, which Harry knew by heart already, but didn't mind hearing again. He appreciated the chance to be assessed fairly, not just for being Miles Potter's brother and James Potter's son.

So he made his way to the pitch and flew a few laps before Oliver called him down. "Nice flying! You don't seem to have a problem with that, but I want to see how you'd fare with these." He opened a trunk at his feet and inside revealed the Quidditch balls. One quaffle, two bludgers, and the golden snitch.

"I know what those are," Harry said.

"Do you? How many have you played with?"

Harry pointed to the quaffle. "Just that one."

"I'm not going to bring out the bludgers this time around, you'll see them at practice should you make it in." Oliver attempted to sound tough, but his face broke out into a grin mere moments after the words were spoken. "Though I think this spot's got your name on it. I assume you know how this works?"

Oliver was holding the snitch up in front of him. Harry nodded. "Show me what you've got then!" With that, Oliver released the snitch, and Harry hurriedly mounted his broom before tearing after it.

He'd managed to keep it in sight, and leaned forward on the broom to catch up to the shimmering golden ball. When he was within arms reach, he snatched it out of the air, and triumphantly returned to the ground.

An expression of pure joy was on Oliver's face. "Well Potter, it looks like you're on the team."

☆

"On the team?!"

Draco was pacing back and forth in front of a couch in the Slytherin common room, where his friends sat watching him concernedly.

"It's not a big deal Draco-" Miles tried to interject, but was cut off before he could finish.

"It is a big deal! He's a first-year! Like us! And on the Quidditch team just for catching a Remembrall out of the air! Anyone could do that!"