James and Sirius took their seats without a word. Moments later, Professor McGonagall swept into the office and slammed the door in her wake. She turned to glare menacingly at the troublemaking duo. "You better have a good explanation for this."

"Sniv—Severus was asking for it." Sirius insisted stubbornly. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall was not convinced.

"Do you boys have any idea how disappointed I am in you? You disgrace yourselves and the noble legacy of Godric Gryffindor with this repulsive behavior." She paused to let these words sink in. But when James and Sirius remained unperturbed, she continued.

"Severus is in the hospital wing right now, under a heavy Sleeping Draught. Madam Pomfrey says he has spoken of killing himself. What on earth could he have done to deserve what you so viciously—

"It's a House Rivalry thing!" Sirius blurted. "Haven't we been at war with Slytherin for nearly a thousand years?"

"Yeah!" James emphatically agreed. "Professor, can you honestly say that Sniv—Severus isn't at least partially responsible for his own lack of popularity? I mean... he hides in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, playing with his potions kit in his spare time. He's obsessed with the Dark Arts. He hasn't washed his hair in three months. These traits don't exactly endear him to anyone. Can you honestly expect us to—

"Enough!" Professor McGonagall slapped her hands on the desktop, silencing James and Sirius' attempts to justify themselves. "One hundred points will be taken from Gryffindor, and you will both serve a month of detentions. Has it crossed your mind that Severus might not be so interested in these, um, aberrant forms of magic, if he wasn't constantly in fear for his own safety? And what have you done to assuage those fears?"

"Yes, but—"

"And has it never occurred to you that Severus might be a little more attentive towards his appearance and personal hygiene, had you not made him an outcast from Day One?"

"Three months, Professor!"

"I don't care if Severus hasn't washed his hair in three years!" Professor McGonagall shouted. She quickly composed herself and spoke in a softer tone. "James Potter, you seem to think that you are incapable of doing wrong, simply because you are good at Quidditch."

James froze as the conversation steered to a topic that he was desperately hoping to avoid. Quidditch was sacred! How could anyone challenge him or cast doubt on his character when it came to Quidditch? Besides, every student in the school hated greasy old Snivelly! Including Lily Evans, albeit she was too saintly to admit it.

"And speaking of Quidditch," Professor McGonagall drew a deep breath, and gazed longing at the gleaming Quidditch Cup that had been her pride and glory for the past four years. But her resolve was unwavering. "I'm afraid I have to remove you from the Gryffindor Quidditch Team—"

"WHAT?" James shrieked, involuntarily leaping to his feet.

"—For the remainder of your time at Hogwarts."

For the first time in many years, James had lost every ounce of his characteristic swagger. Gone was the cocky, loudmouthed, attention-seeking Quidditch phenom. Gone was the indefatigable confidence that his wit, humor, and talent would suffice to maneuver him out of any sticky situation. Gone was the assurance that no matter how many points Gryffindor lost due to his antics, his popularity was unassailable. A wave of genuine despair inundated James Potter, and it threatened to drown him. Professor McGonagall hadn't simply cut at the branches of his ego. She had hacked away its root.

"Professor, you can't!" James pleaded in a whiny, desperate voice that was not his own.

"I can, and I must," she responded tartly.

"But our match against Hufflepuff is tomorrow! For the Quidditch Cup! You can't ban me on such a short notice… there won't be enough time to find a replacement Seeker! We'll be destroyed if I don't play!"

Professor McGonagall shook her head firmly. "You should have thought of that before you decided to bully your classmate."

"Don't you care about Gryffindor winning?" James continued to protest.

"I do. But I care more about the man you grow up to be. Your Quidditch fame has clearly given you the illusion that you are above the rules of common decency. This needs to stop. When the team suits up to play Hufflepuff tomorrow, you will not be joining them.

This is ridiculous! James silently fumed, his cheeks flushing with indignation. A hot, prickling sensation was beginning to seep into the corners of his eyes. Beneath the table, he clenched his fists so tightly, the skin on his knuckles was on the verge of splitting. How can she kick me off the Quidditch team—the day before the biggest game of the year? Just to defend Snivelly's honor? To hell with Snivelly!

Professor McGonagall seemed to have read his mind. "Potter, if you attempt to deflect responsibility or blame Severus for your predicament one more time… I'm heading to Gryffindor Tower right this minute, and throwing your broomstick into the fireplace."

James and Sirius stomped out of the office and down the corridor. As soon as they made sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot, James let loose an angry string of profanity. "She can't stop me from playing tomorrow! I'm playing whether she likes it or not."

Sirius plucked a hair off his head. "Polyjuice Potion. You go as me tomorrow. McGonagall never said that Sirius Black was banned from playing Quidditch."

"It's too late!" James snapped. "It takes a month to brew Polyjuice Potion, and the match is tomorrow!" James rumpled his hair and rolled his eyes. "If McGonagall likes Snivelly so much, why doesn't she just adopt him?"

"Yeah, why not?" Sirius gave a bitter chuckle. "I'm sure Snivelly's parents would be thrilled to get rid of him."

As James and Sirius passed through the corridors, they were heartily greeted by hordes of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs heartily congratulating them on their latest Anti-Snape escapade.

James' stomach throbbed excruciatingly and his heart wrenched as he climbed through the portrait hole. The common room was covered from floor to ceiling with gold and scarlet banners celebrating Gryffindor's inevitable victory. Mountains of sweets and butterbeer bottles covered every table in sight. A twenty-foot tall poster of James grinning smugly, with the Quidditch Cup in his hand and the entire Hufflepuff team kneeling down to kiss his shoes, decorated one wall. The heading ALL HAIL KING JAMES flashed in pretentious glittering letters.

Another poster depicted the Gryffindor Lion with the Hufflepuff Badger clamped in its jaws. Yet a third poster showed a triumphant-looking James standing atop a mountain, brandishing the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, with a decapitated Snape lying at his feet. Throngs of chattering students were dispersed throughout the common room, engaged in spirited discussions about tomorrow's match. The only debate seemed to be whether James would catch the Snitch in five minutes, or whether he'd wait ten minutes as a show of mercy.

If only they knew, James thought savagely as he brushed off the excited but benignly oblivious revelers. As he and Sirius made their way up the stairs, they exchanged a knowing look. Though not a single word was uttered, such was their mental synchronization, each knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Snivelly was going to pay.