H.P:the Difference Between Brothers?

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"You're a lot different than your brother," Neville said after taking one of the little sandwiches.

"How so?"

"You're nice."

"He is pretty awful," Harry agreed.

They both laughed, then started talking. Well, Harry asked endless questions while Neville patiently answered them and explained what he could.

It was nice, until an explosion of confetti erupted in the center of the party. Screams and laughter echoed in the night. A moment later, Alex and his friends came running out of the crowd howling. James stormed up behind them, furious. Cormac and Ernie tried scattering, only to be met with their own furious parents. All three boys were dragged into the house.

"Watch, he'll be back in less than ten minutes like nothing ever happened.," Neville said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Lord Potter always excuses what Alex does as mischief. Alex is awful, and Lord Potter just lets him get away with everything. Sometimes he even laughs about it." Neville looked stunned at his words, then stuttered out, "I-I didn't m-mean.."

"Alex is horrible," Harry agreed.

The party started again, and Neville pulled Harry back into the fold with Alex out of sight. They found themselves inside with more of the food, and Harry who was starving began to fill another plate.

"So the squibs found one another," Alex said snidely from behind them.

"What do you want now?" Harry asked.

"Oh nothing, just trying to alleviate the boredom.'

"Well, do it elsewhere."

Before they could devolve into an argument, Remus appeared next to them.

"James is ready for the two of you to join him for his speech," Remus said.

Neville left to find his grandmother as Remus led Harry and Alex to the terrace where James waited for them. Nearly all the party guests had gathered at the base of the steps.

Harry ignored the entire speech, just stood there with hundreds of people staring up at him. He was exhausted and ready for the night to end.

All through it, Alex kept pinching him in the side.

Once the fireworks went off, which were different from any fireworks Harry had ever seen before, the guests began to trickle out. People stopped by where James had them stand to say their goodbyes.

The only part Harry could remember was when Neville came trailing behind his grandmother.

"It was nice to meet you," Harry told him sincerely.

"You too. Can I write to you?" Neville asked.

"I'd love that. I've still got about a million questions."

Once Neville stepped through the floo behind his grandmother, Harry went back upstairs. It might have been rude, according to all the etiquette books he'd read, but Harry was too tired to care. He passed out on the bed without even taking his shoes off.Flying was pure freedom. Wind whipped through his hair as Harry flew across the pitch in the early dawn. The sun was just beginning to rise above the treeline, illuminating the goal post just ahead of him. He hurtled towards it, leaning down and accelerating the broom beneath him. With a slight shift to the left, he swung out, just missing the post, and looped around it in a tight arc. A second later, he was rushing back down the pitch with the sun in his eyes.

The Nimbus was fast, and moved with the slightest touch. He'd nearly fallen four times before he managed to figure it out. Since he had, he'd pushed himself to the limit flying around the pitch.

Everything faded into nothing when he was up in the air on a broom. All the questions that haunted him for the last two weeks were gone. None of the complicated feelings existed. There were no overly complex social rules he barely understood. He didn't have to hide in a dusty storage room that sometimes made him feel as though he'd never left the cupboard, regardless of the size difference. When he was on a broom, there was no Alex with his relentless bullying that only got worse the longer Harry was in the house. There was no James with all the secrets Harry knew he was hiding and the half truths, regardless of the relationship they were slowly building. None of the looks Harry couldn't decipher or the waves of guilt so strong conversations fizzled into nothing under it. All the things Harry was keeping to himself disappeared too.

The sun rose higher into the sky, and Harry descended to the ground with a sigh. Breakfast would be served soon, and two hours, give or take, of flying was exhausting.

That first day, he couldn't have imagined just how intense flying could be. His thighs ached from gripping the handle, and his arms felt like jelly, and for the past four days, he'd felt as though he'd spent each morning doing a thousand sit-ups.

"Keep it up, and you'll be walking in here wearing a red and gold kit in a couple of years," James said when Harry finally joined him for breakfast.

He hadn't changed out of the sweat soaked grey and black Quidditch practice kit James had given him the day after the party. The day he'd taught Harry to fly.

Although, teach was being generous. Harry had been off like a bullet the second James had let him. He'd gone through every step, every move, as though it were instinct. A natural, James had called it. When Alex joined them with his own broom not long after, the three of them spent half of Sunday doing Chaser drills. Even with Alex complaining about how he preferred Seeker to Chaser the entire time, it had been the best day he'd had since coming to Linweald.

"Red and gold?" Harry asked.

"Gryffindor's colours," James said as they tucked into breakfast.

"I thought you said I'd likely go to Ravenclaw," Harry said cautiously.

"That's what Remus believes. We Potter's though, we're Gryffindors through and through. I think it was, oh, three hundred years ago the last time a Potter went to a different house."

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