James buried his head in his arms, which were folded on the long Gryffindor table. His golden plate was empty and pushed aside: an unusual sight to behold near this typically ravenous boy. He couldn't bring himself to eat, though. Not after his latest run in with Lily. He just couldn't understand why she hated him so much.
I'm the most popular guy in school, I'm captain of the Quidditch team, a damn good Chaser, rather good looking, funny, pretty smart, brilliant with a wand... and she still thinks I'm worse than every Slytherin combined.
He shuddered, hearing her words repeated over and over.
Worse than every Slytherin... a bigheaded toerag... arrogant... a pompous show-off... worse than every Slytherin...
How could she think that? He surely wasn't worse than Malfoy, or Snivellus. Lifting his head slightly, he ran a hand through his hair. He needed Sirius or Remus. His friends could always clear his head. He knew Sirius had to be down for dinner eventually; he was like homework in McGonagall's class, you could just count on it.
Sirius's stomach gave a loud grumble as he ran down the marble staircase. Flying past a group of third years and nearly knocking one over, he finally reached the doors to the Great Hall and threw them open. Dashing towards the Gryffindor table, he took his usual seat and hastily started stuffing food into his mouth, hardly letting it touch his fork before devouring it by the mouthful. He didn't even notice how distraught James seemed, nor did he much care at the moment. His stomach was the only thing on his mind.
When it was satisfied and he had slowed his eating a little, he glanced up at James.
"'Lo" he said through a mouthful of potatoes. He swallowed and continued: "You alright mate?"
James's knew he couldn't tell Sirius the real reason he was so depressed; Black would laugh himself silly. But at any rate, he was glad for some company.
"Oh, so I'm not wearing the invisibility cloak" he said sarcastically. "For a moment there I thought you couldn't see me. I'm fine Padfoot, why d'ya ask? And where've you been; you're fifteen minutes late to dinner."
Sirius grinned at James. "Sorry" he said sheepishly. "I was in detention... stupid Filch wouldn't let me eat 'til all the trophies were polished. I think I'll complain to Headmaster Dippet; they can't starve me like this" As if for emphasis, his stomach let out another low rumble, and Sirius took a few more bites before continuing"Are you sure you're alright? When I came in you looked as if you'd just been talking with Lily." He glanced up from his bite of pie, half-suspended in the air, and raised a questioning eyebrow at James.
James sighed. How did his friend know him so well?
"Funny you put it like that Padfoot."
He looked down at the half-eaten piece of pie, and suddenly he wasn't so hungry. Shaking his head, he said, "She hates me. Absolutely hates me. And I can't stop chasing her." He pushed his food around on his plate again, then suddenly threw his fork down on the table.
"Why does it have to be so complicated! Why, of all the girls in this school, does my heart have to settle on HER! The only friggin girl I can't seem to get!" he said, louder than he had anticipated. A few people looked over at him, but he didn't care.
Sirius immediately regretted saying anything about Lily. He looked down at his plate, then back up at James. He knew how his friend felt, but he really didn't know how to help him.
"Well, I mean, I guess maybe that's why you like her... 'cause she is so hard to get. But don't give up mate, she'll come round." He didn't really believe his own words, but he hated seeing James is such a state. In fact, he had half a mind to go learn the Imperius curse and just force Lily to go out with James. But the larger half of his mind was still focused on food.
"C'mon, don't think too much on it. Let's go play some Quidditch for a while; it's still light."
James looked over at Sirius and thought for a second before responding: "Sure, I could do for some Quidditch."
Standing up, he waited for Sirius to finish off his third slice of pie before heading towards the exit. They walked briskly across the Entrance Hall, through the oak front doors, and down to the darkening Quidditch pitch. The sun was steadily dropping in the sky; they would only have about an hour of daylight.
The minute James kicked off, he felt all his cares fall away, remaining on the ground while he soared higher and higher. He felt lighter, diving and racing through the chill night air, the wind whipping his hair and whistling in his ears. It was the most glorious feeling he had ever known; he was glad Sirius had suggested it. Pulling up next to his best mate, he said: "Shall we toss the Quaffle around a bit?"
Smiling as James pulled up beside him, Sirius nodded in agreement.
"Sure, sounds good to me."
He swept down to the ground and grabbed the oddly shaped ball, which he and James were soon tossing around.
Exiting the castle and stepping out into the chill, oncoming night, Dumbledore breathed deeply to fill his lungs with a refreshing draught of crisp fall air. The Forbidden Forest was already filled with long shadows, creating an atmosphere that lived up to its name. The setting sun cast rays of gold across the placid surface of the lake; sparkles of color danced on the water. The clouds were illuminated with reds, pinks, deep purple and soft yellow, bestowing a brief ethereal grandeur on the unworthy earth below. It was precisely what Dumbledore needed to ease his troubled mind.
His swift strides quickly carried him towards the Quidditch pitch, where he immediately spotted two black-haired students tossing a Quaffle between them. For a few moments, he simply stood and watched, letting the memories of his own days on the pitch come soaring back into his mind. He could still feel the wind tugging at his robes, still hear the crowds roar as he neared the Snitch. It was one of the most glorious feelings he could imagine.
As he continued to watch, he suddenly saw one of the boys make spectacular dive, and after the boy pulled up, he couldn't help but give a small round of applause.
As James pulled out of his dive, he heard a strange sound. Glancing down to the side of the pitch, he noticed Professor Dumbledore, clapping. James felt a blush rise to his cheeks and vaguely wondered if the Headmaster would give them detention for being on the pitch without permission. He slowly floated down to the ground in front of the silver-haired wizard.
"Er, I didn't see you there, Professor" he said sheepishly, looking at his broom instead of the Headmaster.
Dumbledore's bright blue eyes danced with a perceptive twinkle.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, I pray you, do not allow me to interrupt this merriment."
He put a hand on James's shoulder, and when the black-haired boy looked up, Dumbledore held his eye. In a quieter voice, he continued:
"I daresay it can be a brilliant remedy for the troubles of the day."
Standing back upright, he nodded knowingly and gave an impish smile.
"Just see to it that you are inside the Gryffindor Tower before curfew arrives. I certainly would not order you off the pitch on such a night as this... nor when the Quidditch final is drawing so close... I should very much like to see Gryffindor victorious again- Do try to win, James."
He gazed off into the sky with a very reminiscent expression. A seeker in his first year, Dumbledore had devoted every spare moment to Quidditch, which was every moment not spent with his schoolbooks. He still remembered that rush, that marvelous sensation which only flying could bring. He knew that James needed the comfort of Quidditch, for reasons Dumbledore could only guess.
James nodded dumbly. He couldn't believe he was getting off so easily.
"Er, yes sir. I'll try sir."
His hand was trembling on his broom. Something in the old man's aura was very soothing, though. Like he knew. James couldn't help feeling a surging admiration for the wise, silver-haired wizard.
Smiling inwardly, Dumbledore replied, "Of course, of course. Gryffindor has not seen such a fine Seeker as you for many years. I am certain you will lead your team triumphantly."
James felt a blush return to his cheeks. He was used to thinking highly of himself, but a compliment from the Headmaster was rare indeed.
"I, er, thank you, sir."
Inclining his head slightly, the Headmaster stepped back. "I take my leave. Remember, curfew signals the end of your revelries. And James- I look forward to handing you the Cup."
With these words, the tall, gray-haired wizard turned back towards the castle and disappeared into the night.