Two Perspectives

"I absolutely forbid it," Tom snapped, his tone sharp as a whip cracking through the air. Harry was taken aback; he hadn't realized one could snap in Parseltongue until that moment.

"Tom, I need to get to practice," Harry persisted, his voice firm but pleading.

"You've already been twice, Harry. You've had your fun. That's enough now. I will not have you risking your life for a game. Quidditch is dangerous, Harry. People die," Tom insisted, his concern evident.

"But it's just the school team, Tom," Harry countered, hoping to sway him.

The man in the mirror hissed angrily, his frustration palpable. "It doesn't matter! I will not meet my end at the hands of a bludger!"

"You really have no faith in me, do you?" Harry asked, a hint of hurt in his voice.

"Not the point, Harry," Tom replied firmly.

"You know, Tom, this could end up furthering those goals you don't want to tell me about. Quidditch players are popular, you said so yourself. Winning games might make my housemates like me more...and I need them to like me, right? You said I need allies. I won't be getting any if they're all so suspicious of me," Harry argued, his tone defiant.

Pain tickled Harry's scar, and Tom looked somewhat indignant.

"Sometimes I think you forget your place, Harry. Do not forget how much you value my guidance," Tom reminded him sharply.

"I know...I'm sorry..." Harry apologized, feeling a pang of guilt.

"You should not have to play games to garner loyalty. You have other tools at your disposal. Like fear," Tom suggested, his voice laced with authority.

"Maybe. But I don't want to be that kind of person. I don't want to hurt people, to scare them," Harry responded, his tone resolute.

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Harry..."

"When was the last time a Hogwarts student died in a Quidditch game?" Harry challenged, his gaze unwavering.

"..." Tom hesitated, unable to provide an answer.

"I thought so," Harry concluded, shaking his head despite the pulsing pain in his scar. "People are more likely to do what I want if they feel like they owe me. That's something I've known for a long time, and I've never been proven wrong. They may be Slytherins, but they're human too."

"There are other ways of accomplishing this. You do not need to play Quidditch to acquire trust and loyalty. Why must you be so insistent on this?" Tom pressed, his tone firm.

Harry sighed. "Tom, my dad played Quidditch, you know? Even if it's for the Slytherin team...I want to make him proud. Just this one thing, Tom, just this one thing. Please."

Tom regarded him for a long moment, a mix of disgruntlement and something else flickering in his eyes. "Do what you must."

Harry beamed with gratitude. "Thanks, Tom!"

As Harry walked through the dungeon corridors, a skip in his step, he couldn't contain his excitement. The thought of flying again filled him with joy. Flying was his escape, his liberation. The wind against his face, the rush of speed—it made him feel alive. And chasing the snitch? It was exhilarating, a challenge that lifted him above the troubles of his world, if only for a moment.

Tom, on the other hand, detested flying. Well, it wasn't flying itself that he disliked, but rather Quidditch. Tom harbored a deep-seated disdain for Harry's desire to join the Quidditch team. If it weren't for Harry's recent impressive achievements, Tom doubted he would have allowed even a single practice, let alone two, and now a third.

At the beginning of the term, Harry had solemnly declared that he didn't want Tom's assistance with any of his classwork. While Harry appreciated Tom's help, he was determined to succeed at Hogwarts based on his own merit. Tom seemed pleased with Harry's declaration and readily agreed, though not without a warning. If Harry faltered in his studies or showed any signs of laziness, there would be consequences—painful consequences.

Motivated by his desire to make Tom and his parents proud, as well as his aversion to pain, Harry threw himself into his studies with gusto. He quickly outshone his classmates, consistently being the first to complete tasks assigned by his teachers, with only a few exceptions—most notably, Hermione Granger.

Granger was... a challenge. Intriguing, entertaining, yet exasperating. A quintessential know-it-all and teacher's pet, she was accustomed to being the top performer in every subject. The Muggle-born witch possessed both intellect and skill, often trailing just behind Harry and occasionally surpassing him.

While Harry maintained his lead in Charms and Transfiguration, he found himself locked in fierce competition with Granger and Malfoy in Potions—a feat not easily achieved. Professor Snape, while favoring Malfoy to some extent, harbored a distinct animosity towards both Harry and Granger. For Granger, it was straightforward—her Gryffindor status and penchant for showing off irked Snape.

Harry's case was more nuanced. Snape's treatment of him was harsh; his potions were scrutinized more rigorously, and he was subjected to public humiliation in class. Despite this, Harry appreciated the challenge, viewing Snape's criticism as fuel for improvement. His Professor certainly didn't remember the visit he'd paid him one year prior, but Harry did, and still felt bad about tricking the man into letting him into his house so Tom could cast unforgivables on him.

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