The next week passed rather uneventfully, at least Snape thought so. His gut instinct was to keep an eye on Quirrell but the man exhibited no more strange behavior (if you didn't count a very nervous disposition). The announcement for flying classes was posted and he grew tired of listening to Draco Malfoy brag about how fabulous he could fly. Snape was willing to wager his meager fortune that Draco didn't know beans about flying. It was sure as certain that his father hadn't. Lucius Malfoy had been the worst player Slytherin had ever had for Quidditch.

After the lesson, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle entered the dungeon to crow about Potter already being kicked out. Much to Snape's hidden disgust, the Terrible Trio had adopted Snape as their pet teacher, showering him with praise and (what was the Muggle term?) kissing up big time.

"Professor, you wouldn't believe it!" crowed Malfoy, flapping his arms wildly about him like a miniature bird of prey.

'Chicken hawk,' Snape thought nastily. 'Emphasis on chicken.'

"What wouldn't I believe?" he asked calmly, deciding to pay more attention to the antidote to a wolf's bane/mugwort combination potion than the Terrible Trio.

"Potter went chasing me on his broom, trying to get Longbottom's Remembrall after the twit fell off his own broom." The sentence was convoluted enough to make Snape dizzy.

"What? Who fell off their broom?"

"Longbottom, Professor!" snickered Crabbe.

"Oh." Snape dismissed them from his mind again. Longbottom could take care of himself, despite his clumsiness. His father and mother had been powerful magic users and talented Aurors. In Snape's opinion, their son Neville was merely repressing his own ability out of childhood trauma. His lips twisted. More Muggle psychology, he was getting good at this.

"Anyway," continued Malfoy, "Potter went chasing me and I tossed it into the air to drop. I got to the ground but he was diving for the Remembrall when McGonagall caught him. I thought the old hag was going to have a stroke right there!" The three boys burst into laughter.

Snape eyed them a long moment, his look thoughtful. Then he shrugged. "So you think he'll be expelled?" he asked casually.

"Sure," Malfoy grinned evilly. "He's a sad specimen, that one. My father said Potter's father was equally pathetic."

'Lucius Malfoy wouldn't know pathetic if he gave birth to it himself,' thought Snape and then he glanced back down at Draco. 'Then again, this is as close as a man can get, I suppose.' Snape merely harrumphed, but the boys didn't notice his lack of enthusiasm.

"I bet he's packed and gone in the morning." Goyle rubbed his hands together, which Snape figured was about how many brain cells the boy had rubbed together to make that coherent sentence.

"I doubt it. It will have to be more severe than that to get him expelled." Snape informed them. Their faces fell.

"But -" started an outraged Malfoy.

"I remember some mediocre assignments turned in on Monday. Why don't you work on doing better for next week?" Snape gave them each a smile to take the sting out of his words.

They all three nodded and scampered out of the dungeon. "I'll bet Potter will get expelled," he heard Malfoy tell his two cohorts as their footsteps faded.

"Brats," Snape muttered under his breath. He dropped one drop of seawater into the concoction and was startled to discover a blue cloud filtering from the cauldron. "Damn it," he groused.

The staff had another meeting that afternoon and McGonagall seemed to be bouncing in place, giving Snape wide smiles that made him extremely nervous. He decided to take her down a peg or two. He couldn't stand anyone that happy. It was unnatural.

"Happy about all the points you had to remove from Gryffindor, Minerva?" he asked in a silky tone.

"For your information, Severus," she hissed at him with a congenial smile, "Dumbledore has agreed to allow Potter to be Gryffindor's new Seeker."

Flitwick had been standing with him and his face screwed up in a smile. "Excellent!" he squeaked.

Snape's jaw dropped in shock. "What?" he gasped.

McGonagall merely nodded. "Yes, the boy has a natural talent for flying, just like his father. Caught Longbottom's Remembrall a foot off the ground from a fifty-foot dive. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself."

Snape's mouth worked but no sound came out.

Flitwick spoke for him. "Dumbledore waived the no first year rule?"

McGonagall nodded again, obviously enjoying Snape's shock. "And," she said meaningfully, "our first match is against Slytherin with Potter on a Nimbus Two Thousand. Ordered it this afternoon and it's to be delivered in the morning."

Snape could now sputter and he did so at great length. McGonagall merely beamed at him. "I thought you'd be surprised," she said with her thick Scottish burr. With that pronouncement she bounded over to stand next to Quirrell.

The day couldn't have gotten any worse, Snape thought. He'd worked hard to keep the Slytherin team up to scratch. For the past seven years, Slytherin had a winning streak for the house cup and the Quidditch cup, something Snape was inordinately proud of. Now, Potter was going to break it, Snape just knew it.

"Potter," he grumbled under his breath. "Potter, Potter, Potter!" he said a bit more loudly.

Flitwick merely smiled at him. "It could be worse, Severus," Flitwick told him. "You could have Charlie Weasley on the Gryffindor team at the same time." That left Snape in such a fine state of irate nerves that Flitwick moved to the other side of the room, a smile still on his lips.