(1) Brothers (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

November 4, 1995

Saturday was freezing. It was time for the first quidditch match of the season, and Harry had contemplated for a few minutes not going; he had a rather long list of things to do for Snape. But one pouted stare from Carlisle had him nodding and agreeing to go.

Quidditch was always a nice change of pace for Harry. Even before his apprenticeship with Snape, the training sessions and games were a nice change of pace and a break from his studies. He could forget about any other drama or classes, and he would focus on his one task, catch the snitch. And it was something that he did very well. Riding a broom had been second nature to him when he was a child; his father would often encourage him to ride around whenever he could. They would even fly about White Oak's grounds together, racing to see who was the fastest. But it had always been second to his books, so his father had no expectations of him even trying out for Quidditch at Hogwarts.

After watching the matches during his first year and cheering along with his housemates as Ravenclaw tried their best, he decided that when tryouts came around in his second year to give it a go. There were four positions up for grabs, and Harry hadn't been sure. When their team captain had offered him a tryout for Seeker—since no one else seemed to want it—he couldn't think of a good enough reason to say no, so off he went. To say that he had not only surprised himself but everyone else who had been standing on the Quidditch pitch when he managed to catch the snitch in less than forty seconds would have been an understatement. The moment his feet had touched the ground after catching the golden ball, he knew that he wanted to do it again. And do it again, he did. Every single game, Harry had landed his feet on the ground with the snitch in his grasp, and every time left him wanting more.

Saturday's match was between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry knew that Carlisle would want him there, cheering his friends on; not that much cheering was ever heard over the booing at a Gryffindor and Slytherin game. And what he would never admit out loud—to anyone—was that he was curious about Harvey.

It had been brought to his attention by a grumbling Snape that McGonagall had made Harvey Gryffindor's seeker after witnessing him catching something that belonged to another student. First years had been talking about it for weeks, and now that it was time for his first game, Harry was interested to see what Harvey could do. Harvey being good on a broom was something he had never dismissed; after all, James too had been on Gryffindor's quidditch team, but he had never seen the boy play. Harry also wanted to know if he would be a challenge when their game came around.

The game wasn't till eleven, and so Harry had spent the morning after breakfast in Snape's lab. He had ticked a few things off his list before leaving. As he stepped outside, he saw Carlisle standing down the hall talking to Marcus Flint. Flint was already dressed for the match; the only thing missing was his padding. The two of them weren't what you would consider friends or on good terms, but both of them played on Slytherin's team together. On the pitch, they worked as a good team, leaving their disputes for other less important times.

"Have you seen if Potter is any good?" asked Flint. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, facing away from where Harry had come.

"No idea," said Carlisle.

"Still can't believe that this was allowed. First years aren't supposed to be allowed to play quidditch," whined Flint.

Harry smirked and said, "Scared of an eleven-year-old?"

Flint jumped and spun around. "Black," he spat.

Just like Carlisle, Flint disliked Harry. The two of them had butted heads after Flint had slammed his family name because his father had been sorted into Gryffindor. And no matter how long the family line had been in Slytherin, that had tainted them in Flint's eyes. It was good for Harry that he really didn't care about Flint's opinion. He was a scared little boy that really didn't have much bite.