I'm posting ahead of schedule, wow, but this is finished so it can go up. I am not become author Rowling, owner of this franchise. Enjoy!

The days leading up to the weekend passed by in a whirlwind. Harry hadn't had the chance to test out any Muggle references on the Slytherins, to see if they would even realize there was a reference to try to comprehend, but he was thinking up a few good ones. If the Slytherins confirmed the Ministry would search for any and all hidden meanings in whatever Harry sent, Harry would be able to actually enjoy an interaction with the Ministry, for once.

Saturday morning dawned crisp and clear. Harry sighed and made himself look away from the blue sky. He would be too busy with schoolwork to spend much time outside.

Breakfast was a melancholy affair. Harry ate with no particular excitement as he watched the owls swoop down. Once, the arrival of the post had made each morning something to anticipate, but Harry couldn't remember the last good piece of mail he'd received at Hogwarts. It really was sad, how the passing of the years had led to the loss of the novelty of receiving even a simple letter.

But there was more of a commotion than usual, so Harry continued to stare into the cloud of beating wings. No mail got this much attention unless it was a Howler or a package…

It was a package. For an absurd moment, Harry remembered the brooms he had received, but this package was much too large for a broomstick. Fortunately, it was heading for the Gryffindor table, it seemed. Harry would be able to crowd around the recipient with the others and see what it was.

Harry was prepared to move as soon as it was evident exactly who the package was headed for, but he half-stood, half-sat frozen as it was carried closer and closer to him. The owl finally dropped it in front of Ron. Harry looked across the table at him, wide-eyed, but Ron was grinning

"About time!" he said, tearing into it. "Someone should go get Malfoy."

And Harry understood. It was a broom- two of them, in fact. The broomsticks that had belonged to Fred and George, that Ron had asked George to send for Harry and Malfoy. That knowledge firmly in his head, Harry realized that he was the one who should probably be going over to the Slytherins, but some Gryffindor was already there. Harry took a minute to be impressed with his House before leaning forward to inspect the brooms, as many Gryffindors were already doing.

Malfoy would have to fight through the huddle to get to his broom, Harry thought in passing, but he was too focused on the brooms and what everyone was saying about them to pay that much mind.

"The Cleansweeps always were good brooms, and just because the models don't race to keep up with the Firebolt line hasn't made them any less-"

"George really took care of those! Those tails must be fresh-trimmed."

"I haven't flown against a Cleansweep in a while but I remember their tricks, I'll just have to-"

At that comment, Harry started. This was not a House inspecting a new broom on their team. Harry and Malfoy, and these brooms, would be playing against them. They were forming a battle plan.

Harry couldn't let it bother him too much, since everyone was being a good sport about it and he knew they already would have known about the brooms, since they had been on the House team for years. It did seem about time to take them out of the spotlight though. But Malfoy wasn't there yet, so Harry kept his peace.

Right on cue, someone was ripped out of the huddle, creating a gap. Harry saw the Gryffindor who had gone to fetch Malfoy for a second, and then she cheerfully shoved Malfoy into the space she had created. He looked only a little uncomfortable. The Slytherins behind him, straining on tip-toe to catch a glimpse of the brooms, looked notably more so.

Harry looked ruefully across the brooms at Malfoy. He couldn't say anything to him without shouting, so he let the chatter, which had not let up any at Malfoy's arrival, speak for him. From the way Malfoy's eyebrow arched in wry amusement, he understood perfectly the multi-House inspection and their powerlessness against it. There were some Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff faces peering between bodies. They seemed to be having more success than the Slytherins, who were refusing to duck.

Finally, the Houses determined they had said all that could be said about Cleansweeps, and drifted away. Harry reached out to pick up a broom, before hesitating and looking at Malfoy. Should he offer first pick? Not that Harry needed the better broom, they were on the same team, but he was the Seeker. Not that he'd gotten Malfoy to agree to that, but Harry couldn't see him being able to argue the point too much. But that wasn't the point, was it? Was Harry just trying to get the better broom because of good Quidditch sense, or was he being greedy? Was he-

Before he could continue his train of thought, Malfoy let out a sigh so dramatic Harry knew he was rolling his eyes, said, "They're the same," and grabbed a broom at random. Well. That handled that. Harry took the remaining broom and stood.

"Shall we practice?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. He wanted nothing better than to spend hours in the sky, getting better acquainted with his new broom. Harry knew it wouldn't be a Firebolt, but that was fine, he was prepared to learn something new. Sure, he'd flown on it the previous summer, but- Harry just really wanted to fly, okay?

"We do have a game next week," Malfoy replied, just as casually, but he looked as excited as Harry felt. Or, no, he looked as calm as he sounded, but Harry thought he seemed more energized than he had been the past few weeks.

Then the meaning of his words sunk in. "We have a game next week," Harry repeated numbly. "And we haven't practiced once- who are we playing?"

"Ravenclaw," Ron informed them, still seated. Malfoy glanced down at him in surprise. Harry could practically see Malfoy's dawning realization that yes, he was now on the same Quidditch team as Ron Weasley. Oh, this would be fun.

"Who's on our team?" Harry asked. The amount of knowledge Harry didn't possess was becoming more apparent to him by the second.

"I've got Heidi Macavoy and Patrick Bradley as Chasers, and Maxine O'Flaherty and Jason Samuels for Beaters," Ron listed. It was implied that Ron would be Keeper and Harry would be Seeker, leaving Malfoy as the third Chaser, but Harry wasn't ready to confront him about that.

Not looking at Malfoy, Harry did his best to deflect the conversation he could feel coming. "I thought you were asking that other Beater from Ravenclaw?"

"She wanted to focus on her studies this year, she's trying to get some work experience as a Healer in her free time so she'll be set for after Hogwarts," Ron replied easily. "So Malfoy, you'll be fine as Chaser?"

Harry held his breath, shocked, but Malfoy said, "Sure," and they moved on. Harry was the only one left behind, as Ron and Malfoy started discussing putting together a team practice. Could it really be that simple? Was Malfoy as fine with this as he had sounded, or would it come back to bite them? Harry was tired of delayed reactions, but he didn't want to poke into this any further, so he simply listened.

"You go ahead and I'll get everyone else," Ron was saying. "We can talk about other practices when the whole team's there."

Malfoy nodded and stepped away from the table, so Harry followed him. They walked out of the Hall and made their way to the Quidditch pitch in silence.

"I can't believe I flew my last broom for six years," Malfoy said finally. It sounded more pensive than an invitation for conversation, so Harry stayed quiet. He'd had his Firebolt for… four to five years. The Nimbus 2000 had only lasted a little over two years. It was a little surprising to realize he'd gone through more brooms in their school career than Malfoy had. The realization was a strangely discomfiting one.

A voice Harry didn't like very much whispered, six years on the same broom must have felt like what he imagined torture to be, he was used to always getting something new, and now he's going to hate having such an average broom. Harry told himself to shut up. He knew better. Malfoy had had to earn his broom, and he had no choice but to accept what he had been given and accept it graciously. As if to confirm what Harry was thinking, Malfoy said, as an afterthought, "Hopefully this one lasts longer."

It already has, Harry almost said, but decided against it. There was no point in bringing up that these were used brooms.

They were quiet the rest of the way to the Quidditch pitch. Harry wandered a short distance from Malfoy and mounted his broom. Looking up and breathing in the clean November air, Harry kicked off.

This

This was

Flying was

Flying was everything Harry had been missing. It was a challenge, it was ability, it was freedom. It wasn't running away but gaining perspective. None of Harry's problems- Malfoy's missing wand, the statement, Mitxel's whereabouts, getting the Houses to cooperate, getting the Ministry to do its job, figuring out what Harry was going to do after Hogwarts and what he should be doing to prepare for that- were out of his head, but they were easier to break down from this altitude. One thing at a time. Even the homework Harry had thought he would be so busy with was reduced to something Harry could overcome easily.

The broom wasn't a competitive model. It wasn't sought after by any top Quidditch teams, it wasn't anything like Harry's previous brooms, but as Harry did a lazy barrel roll, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was pretty sure Malfoy felt the same. Malfoy was trying out similar maneuvers at low speeds, and while Harry knew this was good practice and would help both of them become accustomed to the brooms, he suspected that Malfoy, like himself, was simply doing it because he could.

Harry spotted Ron and some others come onto the field, and banked his broom into a controlled dive. Malfoy followed at similarly relaxed speeds. Landing, they formed a loose circle with the new arrivals.

Looking around, Harry saw faces that he had only really met in the air. He could identify them by position, and by House, but wasn't able to put names to faces. He couldn't even remember the names Ron had listed off so easily earlier.

"I don't know how we want to do this, but," Ron said, only a little self-consciously, "I'm Ron Weasley, I'm a Keeper, and I'm playing Quidditch because that's what my family does."

Harry side-eyed him incredulously and tried not to swallow nervously. An icebreaker? Really? Harry was to Ron's left, and to support Ron he should go along with it and lead them in going around the circle, but… he really didn't want to.

Fortunately, the person on Ron's other side laughed easily. "I'm Jason Samuels. I'm a Beater." Harry recognized him- he was a Ravenclaw. "I play Quidditch to help myself focus."

That was true, Harry realized. Having to budget his time, and all the physical activity of it, did help him focus on his work. He'd read about exercise being good for the brain. He hoped it was true.

Next to Jason was another Ravenclaw. Harry was a little disappointed to realize they were all grouped by House, but he let it go for now. They'd work together soon enough.

"I'm Patrick Bradley," the other Ravenclaw said. "I'm a Chaser and I play Quidditch to stand out."

Harry wanted to goggle at this overly honest answer, partly because it was almost the exact opposite of Ron's, but Ron was nodding thoughtfully at him so Harry paused. He supposed that Ron, always competing with his family in Quidditch, was technically also trying to stand out, even as he fit in. So Harry relaxed and tried not to think too deeply about it. They were only naming one reason, after all, not explaining their whole lives.

And suddenly Harry realized that he would be expected to give a reason as to why he played Quidditch. Why did he? He'd been sort of thrust into it, after all…

"I'm Heidi Macavoy." Oh, they were on to the Hufflepuffs. "I'm a Chaser." At least she was standing next to a fellow Chaser. Good. They'd have to spend a lot more time together. "I play Quidditch to raise awareness about the segregation of professional Quidditch."

Harry hadn't been aware Quidditch was segregated in any way, but this sounded like the type of attitude he wanted on his team. He'd have to ask Ron later. Or Ginny.

"I'm Maxine O'Flaherty, I'm a Beater, and I play to win."

She stared around the circle as if daring anyone to laugh. Nobody did, and Harry didn't see why they would. It was a perfectly good reason, and it gave Harry the courage to admit his reason to himself. Before he could process it too thoroughly, however, he realized Malfoy was up next. This should be good.

"I'm Draco Malfoy. I'm a Chaser. I play Quidditch because I can." He delivered this with careful solemnness, as if it were a fact of life. Harry appreciated that in regards to the Chaser bit, but had to wonder about his reason. Was it the same as his own?

It was his turn. "I'm Harry Potter and I'm a Seeker." He almost said, I'm a Gryffindor. "I play Quidditch because I'm good at it."

Palms sweaty at his sides, Harry waited to have to explain that he wasn't trying to boast, it was just that this was something he had that no one had expected from him, it was his own talent, and that was important to him, but no one asked. He wasn't sure they understood fully, but they seemed to realize enough. Harry's breathing evened out.

Ron started to say something at the same time Jason Samuels did. The stared at each for a minute, then Ron nodded to him. Samuels nodded back, and said, "I'd like to see how we fly together, and then I think we should try to organize ourselves a little more."

That sounded good to Harry, and the rest of the team murmured agreement. They drifted apart to mount their brooms and kick off. They tried out a few basic formations. Everyone was a good enough flier that they held together easily. Then the Hufflepuff girls started calling out more difficult formations. Ron and the Ravenclaws joined in, and while they made a decent attempt at most of them, soon enough they were laughing too much to give their best efforts. They landed and regrouped.

On the ground, Harry was promptly reminded of what the next order of business was. Organization. That meant leadership. It wasn't a conversation Harry thought would go easily, but somehow, it did. They agreed to let Jason continue acting as a sort of leader, although they held off on naming a captain. It would probably be Jason, Harry knew- he seemed to have a knack for suggesting good ideas, and he wasn't pushy or rude.

And that was a big deal, on this team. Everyone was being overly polite, aware they were only barely held together. It didn't help that members from everyone's Houses had turned up to watch practice. It would be common enough at a normal House team practice, but then it was easy to identify that they were of the same House. Here, seeing someone from another House in the stands set shoulders to stiffening, only to forcibly relax when they spotted that they were all Eighth Years who wouldn't (shouldn't) be sharing their secrets.

Still, it was disconcerting, and when they spilled onto the field after the team started straggling toward the broom shed, it felt for a moment like every other confrontation Harry had ever had in this place.

But no, the Slytherins weren't here to take over the pitch, Harry had to remind himself. They were here for Malfoy, who did look a bit relieved to see them. Harry realized suddenly that Malfoy was the only Slytherin on the team, the only person without someone else from their House.

So Harry made himself welcome them, and made himself welcome the Gryffindors that joined them, even if he was remembering other times when their Houses had clashed on the Quidditch field. But he had seen them interact in the past few days. They were fine. Hermione was smiling.

It was a strange situation, but Harry thought he wouldn't mind getting used to it. "Will you be okay playing your own House?" he asked Jason.

Jason and the Eighth Year Ravenclaws clustered around him laughed. "We've been arguing about proper technique for years. This is my chance to prove that I knew what I was on about."

Harry smiled politely and backed away to join the Gryffindors. He was just a little uncomfortable that they were all separated by House, but figured they'd pushed boundaries enough for one day. Everyone would want to fall back to what they were most familiar with.

Somehow, every one of the Gryffindor Eighth Years had come. Harry couldn't recall most of them having any interest in Quidditch practices in the past, but it was certainly nice that they were being supportive of the crazy mish-mash the Eighth Year team was.

The Gryffindors were, of course, laughing and rowdy, chattering about the upcoming season and comparing merits of players. They seemed almost relieved, to be able to praise players from other Houses. Harry was reminded suddenly of Luna, who had never had any problems showing support for her friends, no matter their House. She would probably be rooting for her own House at the upcoming game, Harry supposed, but people could stand to learn a lot from her. Harry resolved that he needed to talk to Luna, soon. He hadn't seen her much lately and his life was the worse for it.

Glancing away from the Gryffindors for a second, Harry was pleasantly surprised to see Hermione and Malfoy chatting quietly. He drifted just a little closer. Malfoy was telling Hermione about Jason's ideas on how to better utilize the Beaters. He was more enthusiastic than Harry would have expected, but Jason's ideas could easily become revolutionary and after playing with Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy was likely to be in awe of any even competent Beater, Harry thought.

Of course, Malfoy had also played against Fred and George. Harry tried not to dwell on how both pairs of Beaters now only had one person left alive, but thinking about it was inevitable, what with Harry and Malfoy using Fred and George's brooms. He hadn't noticed yet that the brooms were in any way used to flying for Beaters rather than Chasers or Seekers, but it was possible some tick would show itself in time. Harry wanted to be ready for it, just in case.

By this point, all Houses had noticed that Hermione and Malfoy weren't talking to their own House. The two had all eyes on them as they started chatting about exactly what Harry had been thinking: the new brooms.

"You'll do fine with the Cleansweep," Hermione was telling Malfoy, almost reassuringly. "It's not exactly the latest model, but it's still one of the better ones, I think."

"You would, Mudblood."

It wasn't Malfoy. Harry couldn't see who it was, but Malfoy's mouth hadn't moved, and he was turning in shock towards the speaker, as all the Slytherins were.

Right at their center, the only still point amidst a sea of pale, searching faces, stood Millicent Bulstrode.

Chapter word count: 3355

Total word count: 12359

Yes, this is exactly where I want to end the chapter. It's a little earlier than I planned to in my notes, but it felt right. What do you think? Please review!