Without even thinking, Harry grabbed his broom. Blood pounded in his ears, and he kicked hard against the ground. He soared up, up high, and the wind whipped through his hair as he climbed higher, like he'd been born to be in the air, born to fly. He could do this; it was easy. It was wonderful. After pulling on his broom to go a bit higher, he turned sharply to meet Draco, face to face in mid air. He held out his hand. "Give me that," he said clearly, but in a low voice.
Draco shook his head. His voice was low, too; by unspoken agreement, both of them tried to keep their conversation just between them. "No mercy, remember? Let it go, Harry."
"I won't. The kid was scared and hurt, and he didn't do anything to you or any of us. I won't let you break his present from his Gran, too."
"Suit yourself," Draco said. "But you'll have to catch it."
Harry frowned, and then realized what Draco meant when the blond threw the glass ball high into the air and then streaked back to the ground before Harry could stop him.
As though in slow motion, the ball rose up in the air and then started to fall. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - he gathered speed in a steep dive, racing the ball - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.
"MISTER POTTER!"
His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor Snape was hurtling toward him, his great black robes billowing out like bat wings. His black eyes flashed dangerously. Professor McGonagall was hurrying to catch up, her pace no match for Snape's.
Harry got to his feet, trembling.
"Of all the asinine, imbecilic, senseless things to do!" Snape snarled as he came to a halt to loom over Harry. He snatched the Remembrall from Harry's hand, and passed it over to McGonagall without so much as a look in her direction. "You could have broken your fool neck!"
"Professor, it wasn't his fault—"
"Not now, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, and Harry turned to see who'd defended him, noting a bushy haired girl for the first time, and then remembered her from the train. Hermione Granger. But before he could even say thanks, a hand grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the school.
He stumbled forward as Snape growled, "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, follow me," and then took off so fast that Harry and Draco had to run to keep up with his long strides.
Oh, god. Harry was going to be expelled, he just knew it. And now, right after getting all the bruises and stuff healed, he was going to have to go back to the Dursleys. Draco also looked worried, but he'd only have to go back to people who sent him huge boxes of sweets; how hard would that be?
Still, he felt bad; if he hadn't challenged Draco over the Remembrall like that, neither of them would have been in the air. Neither of them would now be facing expulsion. As they tailed after Snape, Harry felt sick and couldn't get enough air. Maybe, if he ran now, he could get far enough away they wouldn't be able to find him to put him back on the train . . . Maybe he could hide in the Forest.