James ran a hand across his rain-splattered glasses, and gave an excited shout. The new Slytherin Chaser had been struck by lightening, leaving him wide open to intercept the Quaffle. He slowly pulled both legs up and placed his feet one after another on his broomstick, rising up slowly. He took both hands off of his broom, so that he was no longer holding onto his broom with any part of his body. He was standing, drawn up to his full height, balanced on the broomstick zooming through the air at full speed. There was a collective gasp from the audience below. His hands were now inches away…centimeters…he grabbed it…

There was another gasp from the crowd, but James' didn't realize this gasp was one of horror, not awe. James' didn't hear Sirius' panicked shout or they many bloodcurdling screams from below. James lifted one foot off of the broom and stood with the other foot on the very tip of the broomstick. So intent on making a spectacular play, he didn't see the bludger coming straight at him; he had no time to react. The bludger hit him dead center in his chest…his right fist closed…there was a resounding crack…James fell back, winded…but he still had the Quaffle, so everything would be OK…

Mental note: always look out for bludgers. He thought dazedly to himself.

"PRONGS!" Sirius roared in horror, shoving a strand of wet hair out of his eyes and zooming towards his best friend, trying his best to keep his broom straight in the midst of the powerful winds which threatened to blow him off course. He was practically on the opposite side of the field. He silently thanked his parents—the first time in his life he ever had an urge to thank them for anything—for having bought him a top-of-the-line racing broom.

Faculty and students alike were on their feet, watching the scene before them unfold, shocked. Remus had already begun running down the stands towards the pitch, too shocked to even shout. Halfway there he froze and just pointed up at the dark, gloomy sky, too stunned to speak. He couldn't believe what was seeing. It was horrible…

Sirius reached James just in time to hit a second bludger away with his beater's bat… But his protection mission went very wrong, very fast. He hit the second bludger away, yes, but the first bludger in the meantime had been blown right back towards him and smashed into the side of his own face, for he had flown right into its path. Injured, and taken completely by surprise, Sirius accidentally dropped his bat and was nearly catapulted from his broom. He slammed down hard, striking his back before his hands left the broomstick, and he was practically hanging upside down, holding on with only his feet.

Now it was James' turn to help Sirius, but before he could, the wayward bludger slammed right into the back of his head. The cracking sound that followed this hit was even louder than the first, and it sent a fine spray of red mist into the air, which was immediately obscured by the rain. James, no longer conscious, fell backwards, the Quaffle dropping from his hand...

"So then I managed to swing back onto my broom, but just as I was all settled and dropping into a dive to go after him, the second bludger slammed right into my right arm and side!" Sirius exclaimed proudly, to a horrorstruck Madam Pomfrey. "It was brilliant! Absolutely brilliant, if I do say so myself. And I do."

"I have told Albus time and again that the sport should be disbanded, but does he ever listen?" Madam Pomfrey muttered, as she went about getting everything ready to heal Sirius' wounds.

"Moony, didja see it? Didja?" Sirius gabbed excitedly, his tone slightly slurred from the injury sustained to his face, but he didn't seem to be bothered by the pain. He was on too much of an adrenaline rush to feel such trifles as pain…

Remus, having just entered the hospital wing, accompanied by Dumbledore, Peter, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, responded, sounding very subdued, "Yeah, I did."

"Wasn't I brilliant? When I went into that one handed dive—"

Peter nodded, hanging on his every word, while Remus listened patiently and seemed to be questioning his sanity.

"Now, no more of this!" Madam Pomfrey chided, bustling over, her arms full of various first aid supplies which she deposited in the spare bed next to Sirius. "I have to fix you up, so I need you to be still?"

"Still?" Sirius asked her, frowning. That was not exactly what he had in mind after just playing one of the most exciting games of his life.

"Yes, still! I want you to sit there and not move, which means that I want no more talking out of you!"

Sirius rolled his eyes and chattered on, pointedly ignoring her.

"—and I grabbed his robes and it seemed so much easier than I thought it would be—"

"I said no talking!" Madam Pomfrey barked.

"—and I saw that Prongs' dropped it has it fell, but Copice grabbed it and chucked it through the hoop anyway—" Sirius persisted, laughing slightly in remembrance of James having won the game for them in spite of everything, and wincing as he did so, for his side and not yet been healed.

"Sirius, maybe it would be a good idea to follow the nurse's orders, hmm?" Dumbledore suggested.

"But Professor, wasn't my save amazing?"

Dumbledore smiled warmly at him, eyes twinkling. "Well, certainly—one of the more spectacular moves I've seen in my time—" Sirius preened. "However, I daresay it would be more beneficial for you to get healed and rested up. Then you'll be able to tell your thrilling tale to any and all without anyone to stop you."

Sirius seemed to weigh the merits of this suggestion, before finally nodding his head slightly. "I can live with that." He turned to Madam Pomfrey and said expectantly, "OK, bring on the healing."

She pursed her lips and approached him with her wand in one hand and a bunch of bandages in the other, before ushering everyone else out.