Dark Kingdom.

Twice he had brushed ever so lightly against the stadium walls as he pursued, and once just a foot above the ground. He followed the snitch between and around the goal posts, quickly learned the futility of it and tried short cuts and prediction of the golden ball's path but failed more often than not. A surprising series of twists, turns, and whirls and snitch disappeared.

Frantically, his searched the pitch, but it could have been anywhere. Above, below, behind him, behind the stands or hovering momentarily in the shadow of a goal post, anywhere. He forced himself to remain still, searching for even the slightest glimmer. The time stretched to a minute, then two, then three, and Harry felt anxiety return to him.

It was taking too much time. He wasn't doing well at all. He was going to be punished more severely for wasting everyone's time now. Perhaps they'd expel-

THERE!

He dropped like a rock- no, even faster than gravity would allow on its own, speeding straight down. His arm shot out, wrapping around something hard and round. But he was going too fast to stop his descent and the ground was coming on fast. He kicked the back of the broom so it angled directly up and willed it to rise. It was futile to think he could stop himself completely with so little time, but he tightened his grip and the handle and braced himself.

As the ground became a scant four feet and him still falling, he released his legs from the broom and landed heavily on his feet. He stumbled, but held his balance. Only now with his feet on the ground did he realize what he had just done. His first day of flying and he'd been zooming about like a lunatic. He was sweaty and breathing quickly, both his broom and the Snitch felt as if they would fly out of his weakening grip at any moment.

"Yes, yes, YES!" he heard Wood cry. "He's perfect! We have to have him now."

Harry turned around. The other Gryffindor was jumping up and down with excitement, practically dancing around their Head of House. She looked positively stunned, and her glasses had slipped clean off her nose. Gimms remained calm and composed, but the thin line of his mouth curved up just a little. McGonagall suddenly came back to herself. She strode over to Harry and held out her hand. Uncertainly, he handed her the Snitch. She look at it closely, a smile of satisfaction reaching her lips. The smile remained as she looked down at her pupil.

"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You are now Gryffindor's new Seeker."

"Huh?"

Harry couldn't help but wonder if the Weasley twins hadn't known he was going to be drafted as their new Seeker. He had returned to Gryffindor tower (feather free no less)and found the twins still there, looking rather smugly between themselves. Clyde and Hermione made a show of doing their homework- or at least Hermione didbut were by his side the moment he'd entered the door.

"You haven't been suspended, have you?" she asked immediately.

He just barely managed a reassuring smile for her. He felt strangely disoriented and wondered if he'd actually taken a hit to the head during McGonagall's 'test'.

"I'm fine... I guess." "Was it really awful, Harry?" asked Clyde, who looked him over critically for signs of injury. "What did they do to you?"

"Do to me? They didn't beat me with a cane if that's what you're wondering. I just... got scolded a bit. And detention... lots of detention. I'm basically the Quidditch team's towel boy for the season. I've got to attend all their practices and clean up after them and assist Wood in drills."

Now this statement was not entirely true and not entirely false. McGonagall had given him a choice. He could either spend Quidditch practice actually practicing with the team or he could spend it in real detention. The Weasley twin's talk of possibly angering Voldemort by actually winning (and if he was going to play he would never intentionally lose), made the second option tempting. The fact that Wood, McGonagall, and Grimms said he would be their secret weapon in the upcoming match (Youngest Seeker in a century! Wood had said ecstatically) made him that much more nervous.

But he couldn't backout. Not really.

McGonagall, in addition to threatening to put a dent in his free time for several months with detention, had also deducted fifty points from Gryffindor for his behavior. They both knew he'd feel obligated to earn them back, and the only way to do that was win at least one Quidditch match. He wondered if the sorting hat hadn't suggested Slytherin to his Head of House when she first came to Hogwarts as well.

Until his first match, however, everyone except his teammates, Head of House, and Professor Gimms would believe he was being punished in the more traditional manner. Hermione naturally cringed when he told her of the loss of points. Clyde wasn't much better. He actually looked pale.

"Well, you're going to be real popular now, Harry," he snipped. Harry could only stare as the other boy stalked out of the common room.

"What'd I do?"

"That's rhetorical, I hope," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I could make quite a list."

"It's not my fault Ron is a thieving prat!" he defended, then quickly turned to the Weasley twins. "Nothing personal." They both shrugged.

"But you certainly didn't have to rise to the bait!"

"What was I suppose to do? He stole out of my bag, insulted me, insulted you and Natalie, and then tried to destroy my property-."

"I thought you said it wasn't your diary?"

"That makes it so much better! Was I suppose to let him get away with all of that?"

"You could have told a teacher! Now instead of just him being punished, you and the rest of us is going to have to pay for it as well."

"I won't be bullied by that stupid bigot," Harry growled, stalking towards his dorm room.

"No matter who else has to pay the price for your pride?!" she snapped back, just as angrily.

"I will take responsibility for myself, pride and all. Don't worry, I'll earn back your precious points!"

She called after him as he rushed up the stairs, but he ignored her. He half expected her to run up after him and apologize, but she didn't. Now he was stuck in his dorm when he should have been at dinner, too prideful to sulk down to the Great Hall and endure not only Gryffindor's scorn but his supposed friends as well.

"You are going to be popular after all this, aren't you," said Fred, popping down beside him on his bed. George sat across from them on Clyde's bed. "You being such a charmer and all."

"Shut up," Harry snapped, frustrated with the entire day and everyone it involved. Double Potions with Slytherin was tomorrow as well, making everything seem that much more wretched. "I'm not in the mood to amuse you."

"Jeepers, he's swell, don't you think Fred?"

"So fun and cuddly. I wish we could keep him."

Harry turned away from them, his 'go away' muffled by his pillow.

"If it's any consolation, Ronnykins got off a lot worse than you did. He has to clean the dungeons every Friday and Saturday evening for a month. No magic. The mildew has been building up for years." He couldn't help but smile at the mental image of Moaning Myrtle screeching at Ron Weasley while he scrubbed out toilets. With that thought, perhaps he hadgotten off light. It wasn't like he didn't love flying, and Quidditch seemed like a lot of fun. If somehow he did manage to win more than one game then he would more than make up for the points lost. Ron would be livid with jealousy. Draco wouldn't be able to question his worthiness of Hermione's friendship. His fellow Gryffindors might actually forget about his earlier mistakes. McGonagall would be proud to have him in her House. Youngest Seeker in a century, echoed in his head, finally sinking in.

Yes, he could do it. He would do it. Sitting up, he looked to both the twins, his green eyes shining brilliantly with determination.

"Tell me about Quidditch."

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