Summary: The more things change, the more they stay the same...

Chapter 5: Classes and Quidditch

Harry had to confess he was bored. It was something that he'd been afraid of. Harry had spent years before Hogwarts studying with Pandora. All the time they'd spent focusing on his control and intent for wandless magic, not to mention all the effort put into learning theory since they couldn't very well do much else without a wand, meant that Harry was well ahead of his peers. Well, most of his peers, anyway. There were a few students from old families that were like him, seemingly bored and able to perform any of the spells they'd tried so far on a first or second attempt.

Most annoyingly, the professors seemed to have expected it, and never gave points when those students got things right first. Instead, points were reserved for those that got things after an obvious effort, their struggle showing that they'd not known the spell beforehand. It made sense, of course. But it felt bitterly unfair to be held back to the average speed of students. A feeling that made Harry uncomfortably aware how the distain for muggleborn students could develop so easily in their wizarding-born counterparts.

All of it meant that he'd been forced to sit through extremely boring lectures. And that even the practical magic portions of any class were brutally mind-numbing. Harry had gone through the entire book of Grade 1 standard spells already, making sure he could perform them all, and was now spending most of his class time trying to get them to work wandlessly. Which, at least, was a proper challenge. He had caused a bit of a stir his first few days by refusing the use incantations. But even that had only gotten him a small amount of points and some odd looks. Now, people seemed to simply be taking it for granted that he was 'Harry Potter' and thus nothing he did was really all that normal. As if he hadn't put in literally years worth of hard work on the theory and on sharpening his intent and control.

Of all the classes, only Potions and Herbology had really been truly new to Harry. And one of those was taught by an overgrown bat with anger issues who had tried to single Harry out in their first ever class. It hadn't worked. Harry had known the answers to his first two questions all on his own, with Pandora easily providing the rest as Snape increasingly tried to trip him up. The actual brewing had, at least, been mildly interesting. With the enchantments on his glasses, he'd been able to see and understand the interactions of the steps to making potions in a way that fascinated him…and frustrated Snape, as Harry kept turning in nearly flawless work.

Astronomy, too, had been a bit of a standout. But that had more to do with the fact Harry had always been fascinated by the stars and the idea of space than it did the magic of them. Frustratingly, even his most basic questions to the professor had been met with confusion. He'd been dying to know if magic would work in space…for a number of reasons. While professor Sinestra had been quite interested in the answer herself, even promptly citing several theories…she'd also disappointingly informed him that no one actually knew the answer. No wizard had, to anyone's knowledge, made it up to space in order to find out. That had added aggravation to even the most enjoyable of his classes. Add in that Harry was not a particular fan of gardening, leaving Herbology as more an annoyance than anything, and the result was classes as a whole being very much a disappointment.

Almost worse than the classes, however, had been the fact that he'd completely failed to really connect with any of his fellow Gryffindors. He was friendly enough with the boys in his dorm, but only on the level of affable strangers. The less said about the girls, the better. At thirteen, they were all far enough into puberty to have gotten past the idea of the other gender being 'icky,' at least. Yet for all that they were pretty enough, the three Gryffindor witches in his year all rubbed him the wrong way. Lavender and Parvarti were flighty, more interested in gossip and Teen Witch Weekly than magic. And Hermoine was such a creature of order that she practically made his skin itch. Harry had never yet met a rule he really liked the look of…and Pandora was based on several witches whose idea of rules was to treat them as 'guidelines,' at best.

All of which left Harry frustrated and only really still sane because he had Pandora to talk to. Even there, however, things weren't quite the way they were before. Pandora was spending some of her attention on Hogwarts, and the both of them had honestly run through most of the ideas they had for projects. Save for those that they didn't have the resources for yet, at least. Nothing as plebian as money. Mostly, it was safe knowledge of rune work that was needed for most of their plans, which had left them spinning their wheels, still stuck doing yet ever more work on theory and practicing to master the spells he'd learned. He'd move on to higher year spells in a month or two…but for now he really needed to build the muscle memory that came from hundreds of uses of the spells he'd already learned. Lily, Euphemia, and Marlene had all been exceptional duelists, and the memories of all three showed just how much better it was to MASTER a single spell over knowing a dozen unmastered.

He hoped, desperately, that maybe today would finally break up the monotony. It was the first day of their flying class, after all. Which was another bit of magic that Harry had been hugely looking forward to! Hopefully it would be a bit less out of reach than his questions about space…

...

Harry frowned at Draco Malfoy as the arrogant sot picked up the remembrall that Neville had dropped. Harry had been too buys kicking himself for not acting, having assumed that the instructor was competent enough to do so, and hadn't noticed the fallen object in time. When Malfoy suddenly made to mount his broom to fly off with the tiny magical trinket, Harry stepped forward.

"And what, exactly, do you think you're going to gain from screwing around with that in front of two entire classes of witnesses, Malfoy? I suggest you hand it over, rather than disgracing the house of cunning by acting the fool."

Harry mentally noted several of the other Slytherin first years grimacing, one even scowled and nodded. But none of them spoke up. Malfoy merely smirked…and took off. Once he was hovering a dozen feet in the air, he finally retorted to Harry.

"No, Potter. One class. The other won't say a word against me, for fear of my father. He is on the Board of Governors, after all. If you want the fat squib's toy, come get in yourself."

Harry frowned, but quickly made his decision. Sure, a remembrall was a seven-sickle trinket. But it was still a gift Neville had just received that day from his gran. His overpowering desire to sock Malfoy's smarmy face probably had something to do with his decision as well, as he mounted his own broom and took off. Thankfully, his projection of false confidence turned rapidly into the real thing as the Cleansweep Seven responded so naturally to his magic that it felt little harder than breathing. He could see the surprise in Malfoy's eyes as he closed with the git…and then the idiot decided to double down and pitched the remembrall as had as he could away from both of them.

Harry saw the action as if in slow motion, already moving as he tracked its arc. He wasn't the only one doing so either, as a second later Pandora highlighted the tiny object in his vision with a bit of her magic, an arc showing her own precise calculations adding to the instinctive line he was drawing. The two match almost exactly and Harry knew better than to doubt her, making a tiny correction to match the arcing lines up even as he dove. Wind whistled in his ears and, three feet from the ground, he stretched out his hand and snatched it, broom already swerving to bring him cleanly and smoothly upright. Blinking the odd tunnel-vision from his dive away, he swung back around to see his stunned classmates…and a pale Professor McGonagall running towards him.

Ah. Crap. This…might be bad.

...

Harry was staring in confused disbelief at his dinner two hours later. Even Pandora, rarely surprised by anything, had been rendered speechless at Harry's abrupt turn of fortune as he was all-but-shanghaied into his new position as a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The Seeker, no less. Which, as he'd pointed out to Weasley back on the train, was practically the only member of the team that mattered! An exaggeration, of course. But one with a certain grain of truth to it, considering how unbalanced the value of the snitch was.

His half-bemused state was broken a moment later as three people joined him in his isolated little corner of the house table. Two of them, Harry recognized as Fred and George Weasley, Ron's older twin brothers. They were very much a pair of characters it was hard to remain ignorant of. The third, however, was a cute blonde with brown eyes and a cheerful smile. He vaguely recognized her from Gryffindor tower, but wasn't even sure what year she was in…though Pandora promptly put the name 'Katie Bell' over the girl's head.

It was George who spoke first, Harry being incredibly grateful that there was a floating name over him, too. Apparently, Pandora had sorted out how to tell the twins apart, even if Harry had no idea.

"Well done, Harry! Wood just told us about you getting the Seeker Spot!"

Fred picked up instantly when George stopped speaking.

"We're the team's Beaters! And the lovely Miss Bell here is one of the Chaser line, along with Angelina and Alicia."

The blonde rolled her eyes at the twins, apparently more used to them than Harry, and picked up where they'd left off.

"I'm new to the team this year, too. Though I trained some with Angelina and Alicia last year. While there's no actual rule against it, first years aren't usually allowed on the teams."

Fred grimaced. "Yeah. If it weren't for how bad all the other prospects were…"

"…You'd probably have been put in her shoes from last year, acting as a reserve," George finished for him.

Katie nodded, thankfully not seeming bothered by Harry's good fortune.

"Even if you completely suck, you've got to be better than McLaggen. That arse is so full of himself that Oliver was dragging his feet about giving him the spot. And given how huge the Captain was smiling, I suspect you don't completely suck, either."

Her delivery was so delightfully deadpan that Harry couldn't help but laugh, noticing her eyes dance with delight as he did.

"I certainly hope I'm better than terrible. He seemed happy after we worked on the pitch for a bit, though I have to admit I'm a bit stunned. Today was the first time I've ever flown before, after all."

He laughed again at the incredulous expressions that spread across all three of their faces as they processed that…