Hermione Granger and the Sorcerers Stone.

School Days

Harry, Harry, Harry. What a mess. If only I knew he was this much trouble I would have helped him study. He had already showed up late to Mcgonagall's class (along with Ron, of course) but now this?
It started in Professor Snape's potion class. You may think it not a big idea, but I've been at the top of my class ever since kindergarten at those muggle schools.
The Professor was a strict teacher. Without introducing himself he just began class. He had dark hair and never smiled. So his wrinkles sagged.
"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few, who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death. Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confidant enough to not...pay...attention!"
I nudged Harry in the ribs, who looked up from his notes. Snape was looking him straight in the eye. Harry apologized.
"Mr. Potter. Our new celebrity." He emphasized the word celebrity to make it sound important. "Tell me, what do you get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of worm wood?"
My hand shot in the air. This one was easy. Harry shook his head he must be so embarrassed.
Professor Snape tried a few more times. I was willing to answer them all but he kept looking to Harry, disappointed.
"Well obviously fame isn't everything." He finished. Then began class.

If Harry was upset, he didn't show it. There was some important news at breakfast this morning. Padma and Pavarti were gossiping, Ron was glutting, and Seamus was trying a spell over and over until his wand exploded.
We were sitting in our normal spots, Ron and Harry across from me, when the mail came.
It isn't how muggles transported mail, the way I grew up, it was very different. There are open windows at the top off the walls in the great hall. Just small enough to fit an owl through. The owls will swoop in with your letters, packages, anything you were sent and drop it right in front of you. That was how it worked.
"Look! Neville's got a remembrall" yelled Seamus.
"I read about those." I added in. "The smoke turns red when you've forgotten something."
Very gracefully, (as graceful as smoke can be) light red fog from the glass ball began to thicken. Neville stared.
"The only problem is, I can't remember what I've forgotten." Everyone laughed.

"Good afternoon class." Announced a short, green-haired lady.
"Good afternoon Madam Hooch." The class echoed. We were outside all holding old broomsticks. This was flying class.
"Good afternoon. Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say, Up!" Hooch commanded.
"Up! Up! Up!" I yelled at my broom. It wouldn't budge. Everybody else was having trouble. Flying class: the only class I'm gonna fail.
Harry yelled up and the broom obeyed. I knew why. I had read about it. But of course he knew too.
Ron's when's up too. But it smacked shin right in the face. Everyone laughed. Even Harry.
Hooch realized our troubles. Then yelled out.
"Okay. Great. Now, I want everyone to mount their broom, and in the count of three, your going to hover over the ground. One, two-"
She didn't have time to finish. As she counted, Neville's broom ascended. Farther up he went. Uncontrollable.
"Mr. Longbottom. Mr. Longbottom!" Yelled Madam Hooch.
Everybody was calling to Neville who's face was bright red. He looked like he was about to fall.
The boy flew to the top of the castle, the broom losing more and more straws every hit. He flew to the exit gate, or above it. If he was going to make it over, his broom surly wouldn't.
There was a small soldier statue on the top of the wall Neville was aiming at. It wasn't the stature he was worried about. It was the spear it was holding.
As Neville flew his robe caught on the sharp spear and his naughty broom abandoned him. He looked like a silly fool dangling from the wall. The poor boy must be so embarrassed to have the whole Slytherin house laughing at him.
The noise was silenced by the sound of tearing. Neville's clothes were ripping from the spear. When there was only a centimeter of robe between the spear, and a hard fall, the grasp off the statue gave in, and Neville fell to the ground.
"Out of my way! Everybody!" Yelled Hooch as she ran to the hurt boy. "A broken wrist" she declared. "Everyone stay here while I escort Mr Longbottom to the hospital room. If I see any broom in the air the rider will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say, Quidditch."
As soon as Hooch and the limping Neville left, you could here the Slytherin group giggling. They were all surrounding Draco Malfoy, who had Neville's remembrall.
"Give it here, Malfoy!" Demanded Harry, pushing past the Slytherin house.
"No" Malfoy said. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Neville to find it." He mounted his broom. "How 'bout on the roof?" The broom took off with the smirking Draco along with it. He flew to the tower.
   Harry mounted his broom.
   "No Harry!" I grabbed his shoulder. "You heard what Madam Hooch said. Besides, you don't even know how to fly."
   Harry looked at me once, then took off. Maybe if I had dug my nails in harder to his robe, it would've taught him a lesson.
   I turned to Ron, who was smiling. Did I really want to be friends with two idiots like these?

Harry wasn't caught, or expelled. Well, he was caught, but in a good way. Harry was now a seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!
It all happend so quickly. Harry flew to the air. He was a natural! No falls. No wobbles. Just flew straight to that Malfoy to teach him a lesson. Serves him right.
   Malfoy became scared a just gave up the ball, just like that! That's when Proffered Mcgonagall came out to fetch him. Everybody thought he was a goner.

Harry arrived in the halls an hour later to tell us the news.
   "That's bloody awesome!" Ron said.
   "I'm scared" replied Harry.
   "Whys that?"
   "What if I make a fool of myself?"
   I jumped in. "You won't, Harry. It's in your blood."
   That was true, but Harry didn't know it. That was until he saw a gold trophy in the trophy room that said:

James Potter
Gryffindor Quittich seeker

"Harry!" Ron beamed. "You didn't tell me your dad was a seeker too!"
   Harry shrugged humbly in awe. "I didn't know."