Chapter 8: Bonds and Barriers

After his first Hogwarts class, Harry joins his roommates—Zabini, Azrael, and Farkas. He briefly considers apologizing to Ron about Scabbers but hesitates. The incident, plus the daunting prospect of a Slytherin visiting the Gryffindor common room, stops him.

Compared to the Dursleys' prison-like home, where study time was scarce, Hogwarts feels like paradise. No Dudley to torment him. Just having company makes Harry glad he came.

"You look thrilled," Zabini remarks.

"Got into Slytherin, didn't I?" Harry grins.

"Even after Snape docked points? Weird guy," Zabini mutters, half-exasperated. Harry's lack of Slytherin cunning worries him.

"What's next?" Azrael asks.

"Let's ride brooms," Zabini suggests. "Tomorrow's flying lesson. Practice with a Quidditch game—no Snitch or Bludgers."

"First-years can't have brooms," Farkas points out.

"Borrow spares," Zabini counters.

As the trio plans, Harry, clueless about Quidditch, asks Azrael for a rundown. He wonders if any role besides Seeker matters but keeps quiet to avoid seeming rude.

"Four's not enough for passes. Let's grab others," Farkas says.

Harry invites Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and a lone Theodore Nott from the common room. Zabini grimaces at Draco's inclusion, but Harry pretends not to notice.

On rickety school brooms (Draco balks, so Harry gives him a cleaner one), they split into two teams of four—one Keeper, three Chasers—using oversized practice rings. Harry fears he'll fail at flying, but only he and Draco take off effortlessly.

Thanks to Draco's patient guidance, everyone manages to hover. After two rounds of Harry and Draco trading scores, they return to the Slytherin common room, exhausted.

The next morning, Harry wakes content. He's aced Potions prep, finished homework, and lost spectacularly at Gobstones to Farkas—his lack of friends made him terrible at competitive games. School's fun for the first time.

At the Great Hall, owls swoop as students glance at Gryffindor's table. When Harry sits at Slytherin's, eyes shift to him. "Now what?" he mutters, asking Azrael instead of Draco, learning from yesterday.

Azrael, munching toast and scanning the Daily Prophet, hands Harry the paper. The headline reads: "Wrongly Accused Man, True Hero, Good Wizard Sirius Black Acquitted." A gaunt, skeletal man grins, yawning, and stretching in the photo.

The article details Sirius Black, imprisoned for betraying the Potters and killing Muggle, now cleared. The real culprit was a man Harry recently helped catch at Hogwarts.

Harry rereads the betrayal part, confused. Hagrid mentioned his parents' popularity and skill but not their betrayal and death. Sirius, a stranger, spent a decade in Azkaban for Harry and his parents, unrecognized. The truth—that Harry caught the real traitor—overwhelms him with confusion, not anger.

"Er… we don't know. Maybe my dad does?" Azrael offers.

"This is definitely your fault, Harry," Zabini teases.

Bewildered, Harry gulps onion soup and heads to class.

Life moves on despite the chaos around Harry. During Madam Hooch's flying lesson, a joint Gryffindor-Slytherin class, trouble brews again.

"Draco, again? How many times is this?" Zabini grumbles.

"Breze, keep quiet unless you want trouble! He's our housemate!" Azrael hisses, scanning for eavesdroppers.

The lesson prioritizes safety—fighting midair could be deadly. But Neville Longbottom, panicked, surges upward uncontrollably, crashing and breaking bones. Madam Hooch escorts him to the infirmary, ordering everyone to stay put.

Draco picks up Neville's Remembrall. "Longbottom's got rare stuff, huh? Wasted on him, don't you think, Potter?"

"Don't say that, Draco. Poor Neville," Harry replies, empathizing. Mocking someone's failure is cruel, especially when Neville's hurting most.

"He's not here. Lighten up," Draco scoffs.

"Oi, Malfoy! That's Neville's! Give it back!" Ron shouts.

"Ron!" Hermione gasps.

Ron, already prejudiced against Draco, assumes theft. Draco, equally biased, sees Ron as beneath him. Their mutual disdain is human nature, but Draco's malice sets them apart.

Grinning wickedly, Draco sees a chance to bully from above. "No way. Longbottom should leave before becoming another Peter Pettigrew. Want it, Weasley? Come get it!" He zooms upward.

"Draco!" Harry calls.

"Ron, don't fly! Hooch's rules! You'll be expelled!" Hermione pleads.

"Rules over friends, Hermione?" Ron snaps.

Draco, holding the Remembrall, soars. Ignoring Ron's argument, Harry instinctively mounts his broom and chases. "Draco, stop being stubborn! Land and return it!"

Draco glances back, seeing Harry's sad green eyes behind glasses. "Why side with Gryffindor, you Slytherin? Traitor!"

Harry, hyped from flying, snaps back. "Because you're my friend, idiot! Why would I want you doing bad things?"

"Idiot? To me? Father never insulted me like that!" Draco, pride stung from years of pressure to be Slytherin's best, hurls the Remembrall toward the ground.

The Remembrall, a complex magical item, would lose its function if broken, even if repaired. Harry, acting on instinct, leans toward the falling orb, accelerating. He snatches it just before it hits, his broom soaring upward, sparing him injury.

Amid cheers from Gryffindors and Slytherins, Harry notices Ron's voice absent, disappointed. Cooling down, he dreads explaining to Madam Hooch.

Harry and Draco face Madam Hooch's scolding, losing ten points each and earning minor punishment. Harry's confident he can regain points in class and secretly looks forward to seeing Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest.

Returning Neville's Remembrall, Harry and Zabini visit the infirmary alone—Azrael and Farkas decline, citing house boundaries. Neville, downcast, beams upon receiving it. "Thanks, Harry!"

"Get well, Neville. Not too bad, right? Good," Harry says, smiling.

Zabini sneers, "Don't betray Gryffindor and become a second Pettigrew, Longbottom."

"Zabini!?" Harry gasps.

Neville, near tears, nods weakly. Zabini clearly came to twist the knife.

"That's too far, Zabini. Saying that to an injured guy?" Harry snaps.

"You earned the right to say it. You fought your own house for him," Zabini retorts.

"I didn't do it for a reward," Harry says firmly.

"Alright, my bad, Longbottom. Just a joke," Zabini says, bowing deeply, but Harry sees no sincerity.

Awkwardly, Harry apologizes to Neville and confronts Zabini. "What was that about?"

"Slytherin cunning isn't free, Harry. Being kind to the weak is fine, but don't play nice with everyone. You'll get hurt," Zabini warns.

Slytherin loyalty runs deep, but love isn't always good—it can clash with status or morality. That's why other houses keep their distance.