wise men say
it looks like rain today
it crackled on the speakers
and trickled down the sleepy subway trains
for heavy eyes could hardly hold us
aching legs that often told us
it's all worth it
We All Fall In Love Sometimes
Chapter One: We Meet Again
January 28, 1982 dawned bright and crisp, the sky tinted with pink in warning of a storm later on. Despite this mix of signals, there was a fair turnout to the season's first Quidditch games.
Quidditch was a widely popular Wizarding sport, and Opening Day usually greeted a flood of spectators in three British stadiums where the first games would be played. It was arranged by the British and Irish League, or B.I.L., which orchestrated a six-month parry of Quidditch involving thirteen wildly popular teams.
One of those teams was the Holyhead Harpies, which had just finished a rather spectactular game. Lily Evans, a twenty-one year-old Chaser who had just been drafted two years prior, had organized a rally to win the match after a 180-point disadvantage.
Lily landed on the grassy pitch after the official commentary, shouting back praise to teammates as she threw her broom up on her shoulders and pulled dirt-spattered goggles off. Dark red hair brushed her neck in a ponytail, frizzy from all the action.
She was slight, standing five-foot-five. Her dark green Quidditch robes, the uniform of the Harpies, barely brushed the ground, lengthening out her figure. Despite being an all-women team, the Harpies used the same basic uniform of other, mostly male teams: trousers, shirt, boots, and protective leather gauntlets to help stabilize the forearm.
Lily was satisfied with the win, but in her mind she was already looking for ways she could improve the team's overall strategy. That was the kind of person she was: if the team did well, so did she. If it put up a poor performance, she felt cheated.
"Hey, Evans!"
A voice broke her from her thoughts: it was James Potter, someone she hadn't seen since a rather heated match the previous August. He played for the Appleby Arrows, and the Harpies had lost the League Cup to them in 1981, much to Lily's disappointment. Her goal was to earn the Cup this year once and for all.
"Hello, Potter," she said, pasting a smile on her face. "Come out to see the match, have you?"
"More checking out the competition," he said, flashing a set of pearly whites. "This year's Cup is anyone's for the taking, I reckon."
Oh, how Lily detested that smile. James she could deal with; despite all of his arrogance, he was actually quite a thoughtful person and extremely excellent Quidditch player. It was just his selfish little grin, on that perfect face, with that lean body and ruffled black hair, that all women loved - well, it irked her. Greatly.
"Have the Arrows had a lousy off-season to make you worried?" she wondered out loud. "I missed your game earlier today - how was it?"
James looked mildly surprised. "Oh, you haven't heard? I've been traded to the Magpies."
"The Montrose Magpies?"
"Yeah. Most successful team in the league, you know," James said nonchalantly, examining a gold ring on his right hand. It was obvious he was bursting with pride but didn't want to show it. "I've been telling the managers all along I belong the Magpies, so it was really nice that they finally opened up for offers."
"I hope you got a good signing bonus, leaving a team like the Arrows after you won them the Cup!" Lily raised her eyebrow. That was pretty impressive.
"They paid me a decent amount, yeah." James took on a smug look, pleased with the attention. The word Montrose struck fear and excitement in every Quidditch player's heart: they were willing to pay any price to get the best athletes, and good players took advantage of that to the fullest extent. "Of course, I don't suppose the Harpies gave you a signing bonus at all... aren't they sponsored by a candy store?"
"An international franchise for sweets marketing, actually," Lily said dryly. "I got a modest bonus. It's called budgeting."
"More like breaking laws on minimum wage."
Lily forced herself to chuckle. She speculated that she'd lost at least a hundred - no, two hundred - brain cells in the three minutes she'd held a conversation with this old classmate of hers. It was clear nothing had changed since last season.
"Well," she said loudly, adjusting her broom on her shoulder, "it's been a long day, and if you don't mind, I'd like to hit the locker room."
"Leaving already?"
"Unfortunately for you, yes."
"Oh, wait!" He extended a hand as if to say, Halt! "I've a match next Saturday in London - want to come?"
She grimaced. "Ah, well... I - I could."
"I'm not asking you out," he said suddenly, as if very concerned she'd gotten the wrong idea. "I just think it would be best if someone from your team actually paid attention to other games for once. It's embarrassing, whooping on a team that bad."
"Gee, thanks." Lily was fuming. The Harpies had played an excellent season the previous year! It was downright insulting for someone like James to criticize their performance. She wouldn't be surprised if he'd been traded because his teammates couldn't stand his attitude. "Well," she said, "I have to go." And she stuck out her hand.
He shook it stiffly, then looked at it with curiosity. "Are you right-handed?"
She pulled it away as if it had been burned. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"But you alwaysthrow the Quaffle with your left hand! I've seen you. Why's that?"
"Magic can't cure everything," she snapped.