A/N: So sorry for the long wait between updates; I've been very busy entertaining visitors, and I've rewritten this chapter about five times now, trying to get it just right. I think this is the version I can live with the most, so it's going up! Please let me know what you think of it. :)

At four o'clock, James called our practice to an end. Apparently, he had an actual Quidditch practice then, and I touched down just as Remus kissed Sirius goodbye at the edge of the pitch.

Oh, right. I'd forgotten about that.

Sirius smirked cheekily at me as we passed each other on the pitch. "Evans! I trust you can walk my boyfriend back to the castle for me, eh?"

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, why ever not?"

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, a single dimple in his left cheek dotting his goateed smile. "And I'll keep yours company on the pitch!"

I may have thrown a few jinxes after him out of spite, to which he only laughed harder—and madder. He ran off before I could do any serious damage, laughing all the way, and sounding eerily like his deranged cousin.

"Your mate—er, boyfriend," I began, once I'd caught up to Remus, "is completely mental. Thought you should know."

Remus smiled shyly. "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime." We fell into an easy pace as we crossed the grounds.

"How was your training?" he asked politely.

I shrugged. "Alright, I s'pose. I definitely need a stretch and a bite to eat, but I can't complain."

"And how was Prongs? Not too harsh, I hope. He can get rather bossy and irate when he's captaining or training or Head Boy-ing."

I cocked my head at him. "Surely, you can't mean James?" I asked sarcastically.

"That's the one," he responded, smirking. I bet he learned that from Sirius. "Did you get on?"

I nodded. "He's alright, that Potter bloke," I admitted, climbing up a steep hill. "Did you know he was Captain Safety First? Mr. 'Mischief Managed' nearly bit my head off for trying to save Nott during our match because I wasn't following safety procedures. Can you believe it?"

Rather than laugh, as I had expected, Remus appeared rather puzzled at this. "The last thing he'd ever want is for someone to get hurt, Lily. Especially if they're his responsibility."

"Ha!" I laughed sardonically. "Where was that James Potter when he was hexing Sev every day of fourth year?"

He grimaced. "He never did any real harm to him, though."

We were almost to the main gates of the castle. "Never did any real harm to him?" I echoed in disbelief, nearly laughing at the outrageous excuse he'd given. "What James put poor Severus through is indefensible, Remus. No one deserves to be bullied!"

"Well, he wasn't—"

"No one!" I repeated.

He held his hands up in surrender. "You're right, of course," he conceded. "But it was never one-sided."

I threw him a look that could not have been very friendly. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Do you remember, in fifth year? After our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s, by the lake?"

How could I forget?

I nodded, attempting to push down all the swelling, anxious emotions that that particular memory evoked.

"Do you remember that spell James and Sirius used?"

I made no indication what spell he meant, even though I could remember it as clearly as the cloudless sky above us.

"Levicorpus. It levitates you in the air by your feet," Remus continued, explaining generously. "Well, it was Snape's own spell. He'd been using it on James and Sirius for ages, emptying their pockets, leaving them stranded down deserted corridors and the like. That afternoon by the lake, they got their revenge."

My eyebrows went to high heaven at that, no doubt disappearing beneath my fringe. "Oh," I said quietly.

"I'm not condoning their behavior, of course, but after five years of this endless feud between the two parties, I'd given up trying to fight them on it. Especially because I knew James would never take it any further than harmless pranks."

I threw him a dubious look.

He grinned widely, combing his fingers through his sandy brown hair. "Alright, mostly harmless. So you see," Remus concluded, "it was never one-sided. And considering that I was there when James first tried out Snape's spell, I can tell you that it doesn't surprise me in the least that his concern is always for the safety of others, even his enemies."

I remembered what James had said about having saved Severus from a werewolf. Remus seemed to know what he was talking about. My old ideas of James Potter were proved wrong or insufficient so often, I gave up trying to keep up.

"Captain Safety First," I muttered, letting this new idea of James Potter settle into my mind as we climbed the steps to the castle's front doors.

Remus laughed. "You should call him that. He'd hate it."

Grinning, I hooked my arm through his and walked us up through the front doors and up the grand staircase. "I think, Remus, that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Bellatrix Black was actively trying to get me expelled, Severus was a conflicted bigot, McGonagall had actually complimented me on my flying, Remus had kissed Sirius several times in front of me, and the only thought that my mind continued to circle back to was that James Potter possibly actually fancied me.

Fancied me in a real way, as well. The sort where you put aside a deep and long-held rivalry for the sake of helping the girl you fancy win at a broom race, the very same one for which you helped her prepare because before that, she was total pants on a broom, and without you, she would have been the largest and most tragic drop scone in all of Scotland.

It wasn't until dinner, after a much-needed soak in the prefects' bath, when I'd sat next to Jen and found myself entirely distracted by the back of James's disheveled head as he and Peter engaged in some arm wrestling that that fact finally hit me.

Apart from Jen and Remus, he was the only other person who knew the truth about me. He was the only person I'd told willingly, the only person who had offered to help.

He'd seen me at my most vulnerable—perched atop a broom, you remember, and as frightened as a goose on Christmas Day—and he hadn't judged me.

And of course, there was that feeling. That stupid one that kept appearing whenever he got too close or said something nice or his eyes smiled or laughed or he displayed qualities befitting a non-toerag.

Jen was chattering away about something or other having to do with the school bylaws and intramural sports, but all I could focus on was how the hair on the back of James's head seemed to stick up stubbornly, despite visible attempts to get it to lay flat.

It used to annoy me whenever I'd have to sit behind him—especially in Transfiguration. I'd spend most of the lesson just glaring at the sticky-uppy bits, willing them to wither beneath my unforgiving stare. Alas, no amount of hatred was enough to magic his hair down.

Although, I confess that once in third year, I managed to transfigure the sticky-uppy patch of hair into a cactus, which had gone mostly unnoticed by him and the rest of the class until well into Herbology that afternoon when he was unceremoniously attacked by a venomous tentacula.

I began grinning, and failed to hold in a chortle of laughter as I remembered how Professor Sprout had yelled at him for having come into her greenhouse with a "decidedly unpleasant devil's head!" while he was face-first in the pits of the tentacula's grasp.

Jen frowned. "What's so funny about broom tax laws?" she asked.

I blinked, realizing I had completely spaced out. "Er," I said.

She sighed. "You weren't paying attention at all, were you?"

"I'm sorry, Jen!" I placed my hand soothingly over hers. "I just got a bit—"

I was interrupted by a loud thud that managed to make all the goblets and plates bounce slightly on the table.

"IN YOUR FACE, POTTER!" shouted Peter Pettigrew.

"—distracted," I finished lamely.

Jen waved me off, turning around to witness one, Peter, standing over James Potter in red-faced victory. He pushed his long blonde hair over his shoulders, thin lips revealing a crooked smile.

James's hand carded through his hair, and for a split second, the back of his hair appeared normal as his long fingers passed over it, but it bounced right back into its sticky-uppy position. Finally, he stuck out his hand, and said, "Right, well done, mate."

Peter shook his hand. "Thanks, I'm rather chuffed myself."

Sirius called over at him, "You still aren't shite, Wormtail!"

Peter grinned, leaned over the table and said, "Give us a go, then."

Jen turned back around, her frown deepening as she contemplated the scene that had just unfolded.

I shrugged at her, bemused by the Marauders' antics, and changed the subject. "So what were you saying about broom tax laws?"

Jen sat up straighter and even though I could tell she was very excited to explain broom tax law to me, I couldn't get myself to pay attention. I found myself staring curiously at the Marauders' antics in the background with newfound respect and admiration.

And that stupid blooming feeling was filling me up with warmth and a slight twinge of pain. When Peter defeated Sirius Black and Remus laughed openly at his boyfriend without hesitation, I realized that the feeling I'd been experiencing at the sight of James Potter was longing.

I felt longing for James?

I frowned, and Jen nodded. Apparently, I was reacting appropriately, and I tried to pay attention to her, but she kept saying words like "regulation" and "clause" and "municipal code," and I couldn't keep anything straight.

But then she said something that finally seemed to bring me out of my daze.

"Sorry, Jen. Could you repeat that?"

She sighed with obvious exasperation that she'd lost my attention once again. "I said," and here she shot me a most irritated glance, "that the broom tax law only applies to the equipment used in Quidditch matches due to some weird loophole about inter-House leagues and club leagues. It was Avery Hicks, actually—oh, you'll love this. It's to do with that Muggle war that was on in the 40's!"

I listened rapt with attention.

She leaned in toward me, her eyes bright and sparkling. "Apparently, he and some other students founded some sort of Muggle support brigade and were able to evade a bunch of applied academics restrictions by doing so through Hogwarts's bylaws, with the argument that the brigade wasn't House specific, and so while it technically organized students into different teams for air support in the war, they weren't subject to school-appointed authorities because the teams were House-mixed."

"Why is there a loophole for House-mixed teams?" I asked.

"Because the rule about regulating recreational activities specifies that the school governors have authority over inter-House activities, and in so doing, anything that doesn't fall within that definition is outside of their jurisdiction. Like Quiz Club, for example! It's student-organized, student-run, and they have their own House-mixed club league. They just have a Ministry referee to oversee their matches."

Suddenly, I realized I might have a solution to my potential expulsion. "Jen, if we get someone from another House to play on our Hippogriff team, doesn't that mean that the ban doesn't apply to us anymore?"

Jen's eyes widened. "Oh my Merlin! Lily, yes! That could solve all our problems! Except—except, well, you'd have to convince Black to do so as well, and—"

"We don't need to convince her of anything. Her team's already House-mixed."

Jen frowned as she quickly thought through what I'd just told her. Then, her eyes narrowed and she growled darkly, "Dorcas."

Our plan would only work if we behaved like Slytherins and kept it under wraps, which was difficult for the naturally loose-tongued, confrontational individuals of my very Gryffindor Hippogriff team.

The only thing that we deliberately let loose was the day and time of our rematch with Bellatrix Black's team. This was absolutely essential to Part 2 of our plan: massive crowds and loads of witnesses to sign a petition of support. Really, we just had to tell Sruthi about the rematch and let the Hogwarts gossip machine take care of the rest.

However, if word got out and Bellatrix got wind of what we were planning, she might remove Dorcas from her team prematurely and we'd lose the edge we'd need to secure our status as a mixed-House Hippogriff Club League. Luckily, the self-proclaimed Marauders had had more practice with secret-keeping and general mischief-making, so I could count on them to pull this off. During the week, we managed to scout the other Houses for flying talent, and began a list of students we thought would want to form teams for a Hippogriff league.

On Tuesday night, I was paired with Hannibal McCloud, a Ravenclaw sixth-year prefect, for my patrol rounds.

"So, Evans," he said, as we rounded the second lower level of the dungeons. "There's a rumor going around that you and Potter are starting a Hippogriff league."

I flashed him a smile. "There have been a lot of rumors going around lately."

McCloud seemed to see right through my ploy of deception. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face me. With all seriousness, he declared, "I want to be on your team."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why?"

He smirked. "You're not the only one looking to settle a score."

I laughed. I still wasn't sure I could trust him, even though we'd both been prefects for a year together.

"What do you say, Evans?"

"I think you're being presumptuous."

"I'm not an idiot," McCloud said, almost desperately. "I know you and Potter and your other friends have been looking for other players. And that Till—with parents in the Wizengamot, she'll have known about Article Six, Section Three in the school's bylaws."

Now, it was my turn to smirk. "We're well aware, McCloud. But what I meant was you were being presumptuous to believe I'd let you anywhere near my team without a proper try-out."

McCloud's face visibly relaxed. "So I get a try-out?"

"We need six other teams, at least, to form a league, McCloud. You might even get to captain one, if you're up for it."

"Think I'll let you see to that yourself," he replied, bumping my shoulder in open flirtation.

Ew, no! I hadn't been flirting! Merlin, save me.

I smiled sweetly at him before I gave him a wide berth and let him down easy. "No, I don't think so. You'll have to bring your ace flying game to the try-out if you want to captain your own team. Now, please be discreet about this, McCloud. This is supposed to be a secret, after all."

Whatever flirtatious energy he'd been giving off swiftly disappeared for the rest of the patrol. I hadn't meant to embarrass him, and I felt terrible for having to act so sternly, but I couldn't have my prefects flirting with me during patrols! I demanded some respect! I mean, I was their Head Girl!

Before we parted ways in the Entrance Hall, however, I threw him another bone. "Quidditch pitch tomorrow. Try-outs start at six o'clock."

He pinked somewhat and nodded very quickly before dashing, presumably, to Ravenclaw Tower.

On Wednesday night, Jen, James, and I had created a table of team rosters. We had enough students signed up for at least eight teams. If there was even a small possibility of expulsion hanging over me, I would at least have a paper trail and several students' signatures in my defense. Even Mary Macdonald had agreed to ditch my team to make room for a non-Gryffindor member.

"I need to focus on my studies if I'm ever going to get on the fast-track as a curse-breaker," she'd said.

By Friday, we had significantly prepped for our rematch, and had even had to cut one particular practice short as Bellatrix's team requested the pitch for practice as well. It had been a rather civil affair, with James and Sev coming to another agreement over Hippogriff.

This game was bloody magical!

Had we been less busy drafting a season's worth of players, and holding a few flying seminars for the less-talented students (eager to be taught by the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and the Winged Wronski Warrior), we would have taken more notice of the note Dumbledore posted on the Heads' office door that mentioned "a visit from the Committee of Applied Academics."

I would have been less surprised than I was to find myself in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, stands filled with avid Winged Wronski Warrior fans, my teammates clad in black and violet robes beside me, our opponents sporting grey and white robes themselves, and their leader, Bellatrix Black, smiling graciously at a group of older gentlemen as they approached us in the middle of the pitch.

"And here is our Head Girl," I heard her say in dulcet tones. It almost made me nauseous. "Lily Evans."

At least a half dozen pairs of eyes rested suddenly on me. The man at the fore of the group was rather handsome, with unforgiving dark eyes, and pale blonde hair slicked back sophisticatedly, though his lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure at the sight of me.

I stepped forwards. "Pleasure to meet you," I said.

"Evans?" he sneered. "Where's your family from, girl?"

Nonplussed, I answered, "Cokeworth, Sir."

His nostrils flared as though he had smelt something rather unpleasant. "I don't recall there being a House of Evans in Cokeworth," he said.

I suddenly knew exactly where he was going with this, but I couldn't let it get there without my consent.

So I laughed. "Oh, that's rich! My parents will love to hear that! A 'House of Evans'? In Cokeworth? Ha! Very good, Sir!"

I laughed once more for emphasis. Because really. He was being decidedly classist and, dare I say, rude. I gathered from his appearance that he was well off, and seemed to use his rank in wizarding society to degrade those of us from less wealthy (read: magical) backgrounds. And I'd found that laughing at that sort of haughtiness worked to subvert whatever power play was going on. After all, how can you have the upper hand when someone is laughing at you?

Finally, I calmed down enough to say, "I expect you're enjoying your tour of the grounds, Mister—? Ah, sorry, didn't catch your name."

He made a humming noise of disapproval while Bellatrix glared at me, but another man behind him seemed to be hiding a smile.

Interesting.

The elitist man sniffed once more before answering. "I am Abraxas Malfoy, and my niece has informed me of a rather interesting development. It seems your headmaster has had some trouble enforcing the school governors' rulings, because even though we moved to ban Hippogriff, it appears you are preparing for a match as we speak."

James came up beside me then. "Not at all, Mr. Malfoy. Professor Dumbledore has been quite immediate with the ban."

Abraxas raised a single eyebrow, and I could almost make him out thinking, Who are you? How dare you speak to me? I had to resist rolling my eyes. Clinging to traditions from some bygone era, it was the etiquette amongst traditional Pureblood families not to speak to someone above one's rank unless directly addressed, especially if there hadn't been any proper introductions between the two individuals.

"My apologies, Sir. It's been awhile. James Potter, Head Boy, at your service," he clarified in a suddenly very posh speech, and stuck out his hand.

His accent made me pause almost comically, and I couldn't help myself from cocking my head to the side in befuddlement.

At James's speech, Abraxas bristled with recognition. It seemed that at one point, the two had been introduced after all, though this Abraxas fellow wasn't too impressed. I vaguely remembered Sirius going on about how although the Potter Manor was well-connected, it was a little on the unpopular side with more traditional Pureblood families due to its Muggle-friendly history.

The elder wizard eyed James's hand with subtle disgust before taking it and giving it one very severe shake. "Potter," he acknowledged. He cast one sidelong glance at Bellatrix in slight resentment.

Bellatrix only smirked in reply.

Abraxas exhaled sharply. "Kindly explain to me what it is that is going on here. I don't like to have my time wasted."

James grinned brilliantly. "We're getting ready for our rematch, Sir. Surely Black's told you all about it by now?"

A short, greying man pushed himself to the front of the group of school governors. He pulled a very reluctant Nott behind him. Ah, so it was Nott Senior. "Not on my watch!" he screamed, mustache twitching above his mouth. "My boy was almost killed by that Muggleborn wench while playing this commoner's sport! I'll not have it!"

It seemed the crowd must have got wind of what was going on because a sudden wave of booing reached our ears. At Jen's beckoning, the rest of my team went up into the stands to join them. Right on cue, too; it was time for the final part of our elaborate plan to pull one over on Bellatrix Black. All James and I had to do was keep this conversation dragging on and buy them enough time for us to deliver the final blow.

The stands cheered at the appearance of Jen and my teammates and began chanting, "WRONSKI WARRIOR!" I failed to keep a smile from splitting across my face at the energetic tumult. Abraxas held one hand up, however, and that was enough to quiet the stands.

"Nott, we have already signed a ban," Abraxas said coolly to the purple-faced Nott Senior. Then, he turned to Potter and me. "You cannot play."

"I think you'll find we can, Sir," I challenged.

His grey eyes appraised me swiftly. He sniffed, apparently unimpressed. "And how is that?" he asked, seemingly bored.

I grinned. "You only banned Hippogriff from Operation Fire Dragon, Sir. According to Article Six, Section Three of the school bylaws, we are well within our rights to organize a mixed-House Hippogriff league."

The smiling man from before let out a chuckling laugh. "You've got us there, eh!" He was rather younger than the other school governors, with aviator-style glasses, long sideburns, a handlebar mustache, and carnelian-colored eyes sparkling in mirth. "A club league! Malfoy, of all the things! Who could have predicted they'd come up with this?!"

This seemed to annoy Malfoy spectacularly. "Shut up, Fenwick!" he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Uncle, what are they talking about?" Bellatrix asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

Malfoy's face was unkind as he shot her an irritated glance. "It would seem you have unwittingly taken part in a mixed-House league, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix blinked. "Uncle, I would never enlist in such a thing! All my team members are in House Slytherin, of course—oh!" Understanding seemed to dawn on her as her gaze fell upon Dorcas Meadowes, whose face suddenly reddened significantly.

"It would do well for you to choose your counterparts with more discernment, Niece," said Abraxas, eyeing Dorcas with barely-disguised dislike, "so as to avoid making any unsavory connections."

I was mortified at his frank judgment of Dorcas Meadowes, a perfectly neutral party in the whole affair, whose only offense was belonging to Ravenclaw House.

Meanwhile, Fenwick practically lost his mind, grinning as giddily as he was. "As school governors, we have the right to restrict academic activities, but, I think it's safe to say a club league is definitely outside our jurisdiction, wouldn't you, Malfoy?"

Abraxas Malfoy turned very slowly to peer down at his smiling colleague, condescension clearly etched around his mouth. "If that is the case, Fenwick, then I will be happy to review our students' proposal for a Hippogriff league." He turned an icy stare in our direction. "I trust your papers are in order?"

I rolled my eyes. Psh. A proposal. Did he think we were born yesterday? I prepared to smirk as I stuck my hand in my robe's pocket to pull out our roster of Hippogriff teams—enough to make up a whole league.

Only the bloody thing wasn't there.

Frowning, and trying desperately not to panic, I dug through my pockets unceremoniously as I realized that the paper trail I'd been relying on to get me out of hot water with the school governors was not currently on my person.

The size of my gape could have swallowed a Quaffle whole.

My roster!

I continued to dig through my pockets in obvious desperation and turned to James, who returned my wide-eyed gape, equally unhelpful, and started rummaging through his own pockets.

He came up empty-handed as well.

"Er, I—"

"That is to say, of course everything is—"

"—our papers, right!—"

We stood there dumbfounded and sputtering for several seconds, Bellatrix Black settling into a rather smug smirk.

James and I might as well have been Stupefied, since we grasped at thin air for some sort of explanation, some sort of anything to get a grip on this conversation.

Where in the bleeding fuck was our roster—?!

Malfoy held up another hand and James and I stopped our useless blathering. We shifted slightly closer to each other in solidarity.

"I believe we are agreed, then?" began Abraxas.

"Er," I said smartly. We stared at him a bit longer, unsure where he was going with this.

His pursed lips twitched at one end when we didn't answer. Finally, he deadpanned, "Without the proper procedure through the proper channels, Hippogriff is thus banned from Hogwarts."

I should have been offended at this attempt at intimidation, but instead, I finally got a grip. I addressed the elder Malfoy and the rest of the school governors. "Please, sirs. If you'll give me a moment, I'm sure you will all be satisfied."

I didn't give them a moment to protest, spinning on my heels and pulling James by the hand to the side of the Quidditch pitch. "Lily, where the bleeding hell is our roster?" he muttered anxiously.

"I'm not sure, but we have to find Jen!" I instructed over my shoulder. "At the very least, she'll have done the petition!"

He pulled his hand out of mine (I had to resist the urge to feel devastated at this very obvious sign of rejection as Lily Evans, Failure Flirt) and pointed at the stairwell behind the nearest stands. "I think she's coming to find us," he observed.

Jen was sweaty and red-faced, apparently having run from the other end of the stands to get to us. She jumped down the last four steps and half-jogged, half-limped to us, a tightly rolled scroll of parchment in hand.

"Li—ly," she said between breaths. "We've—got—just—about—enough—" She took in a huge gulp of air, a hand grabbing at her side. "Blimey, that was a lot of stairs!"

"Jen?" I asked.

She put up a half-hearted finger, doubling over at the waist as she took in a few more deep breaths, and clearly still distressed from her run.

James and I exchanged a look. His was amused, mine nervous.

Finally, she came back up looking tired and all kinds of hellish, but the flash of determination in her eyes was enough to keep me alert. "Firstly, you realize you can Summon things when you've left them in the Common Room, yes?" She held up the scroll in her hand and didn't let me respond. "Secondly, Malfoy is a terrible bigot and I can't believe he asked you for a proposal when we don't even need one—I mean, he just has to get his head out of his arse for two seconds to see how much student support we've got for this!"

"Bureaucrats need everything in writing," James deadpanned. "Smarmy bastards."

"I know!" replied Jen, her mouth pouting comically.

I blinked. "But do we have it in writing? Because that seems to be the important bit, smarmy bastards or not."

James threw an arm around my shoulders. "Evans, look around you! What d'you think?"

I looked up at the stands and realized, for the very first time, how very popular this (supposedly secret) match seemed to be to the school. The stands were nearly full. Amongst the crowd, I could make out my teammates, scattered here and there, passing around long sheaves of parchment.

Marlene, identifiable by the large afro she was sporting this week, was half-hidden behind a colossal sign with the words "WRONKSI WARRIOR: SHE'LL DESTROY YA" written on it in glowing, threatening violet.

"That's a nice sign, but I hardly think it's enough," I murmured, blushing in spite of myself.

"I meant the lads," James said, gesturing vaguely at a haggard Remus, a frantic Peter, and a schmoozing Sirius, each with their own scrolls of parchment at various sections in the stands as they collected signatures. "And McKinnon."

Suddenly, my attention was back to the sign—that sign! About the Wronski Warrior! Somebody had written it! About me!

Before I could get too caught up in feelings of pride and personal glory, I scanned the rest of the crowd and spotted one, Frank Longbottom, who was perched over a railing, a charmed camera hanging loosely from his neck as he scratched feverishly on his notebook.

"Oh, wonderful," I muttered disdainfully at the sight of him.

Jen, in an almost comically melodramatic way, presented James with the scroll in her hand. "Since Lily abandoned this, I'm entrusting it to you, Potter."

James nodded as though he completely agreed with her judgment and I scoffed. "Rude!"

Jen ignored me. "Just go back there and get us a bit more time. I'll get the team to come down with the petition."

"You're bloody brilliant, you know that?" he said, flashing her a swoon-worthy grin.

She rolled her eyes. "I know." She turned around, groaned at the sight of the stairs, muttered, "Yet meet thine enemy, Jennifer Till," and climbed back up to the stands.

I smiled at James. "Is that our roster?"

"I suppose so," he replied vaguely, clenching the unopened scroll in one fist. "Your mate just saved our sorry arses."

I smirked. "Makes sense. Your mates get us into trouble, and my mates get us out."

James laughed, grabbed my hand (I had to resist the urge to grin hugely at this extremely obvious sign of flirtation; this was so not the time), and pulled me back to the school governors, who were grouped rather awkwardly around a very annoyed Malfoy. We approached just as the rest of Bellatrix's team came up to surround her, a sea of silver and white meeting the multi-colored robes of all the school governors in the middle of the green.

Malfoy looked expectantly at us, a hand firmly gripping the silver serpent handle of a long cane.

He'd been in Slytherin.

Of course. Why was I even surprised?

Before he could remark on how it was unacceptable to make him wait, however, James apologized for having been so unclear about our very popular Hippogriff league before.

"In a moment, I guarantee you'll find everything in order, Mister Malfoy," James said.

"I'll not have it!" screamed Nott Senior. "Abraxas, you must dissolve this at once!"

Malfoy held up a hand—it seemed to be his move—and he fell silent, if a bit sulky. "It doesn't matter. The students need at least six teams to form such a league, and only two seem to exist."

"Ha!" Bellatrix laughed, baring her teeth in a smug smile.

Wordlessly—and quite arrogantly, considering he hadn't even bothered to look at it—James offered the ageing wizard the scroll of parchment previously entrusted to him by Jen.

"What's this?" asked Abraxas, looking down his nose at the scroll, refusing to take it.

Fenwick rolled his eyes and stepped forwards. "Oh, honestly, Malfoy. It's a bit of parchment, you gutless germ," he muttered, taking the scroll. He unraveled it, and after a long half-minute of perusal, he surfaced with a smirk to rival Bellatrix's infamously smug snarl.

Malfoy instantly ripped the scroll from Fenwick's hands and he and the rest of the governors pored over its contents.

Fenwick shot a wink at James, who grinned amusedly.

"Oi!" called Marlene's voice from behind me. Before I could worry too much about what exactly was on that scroll, I turned to see that the rest of our team had gathered around James and me, followed by a stream of Hogwarts students.

"Nice of you to join us," I muttered.

"Well, while you and the Captain here distracted the governors, the rest of us went around and got you all of these signatures," she countered, nodding over at Jen, who held several sheets of parchment in her hands. "You're welcome, by the way." She cradled her arms to her chest, clearly holding herself back from doing her disco arms.

I snorted. "Thanks, I just hope it works."

"Why wouldn't it? Jen's a genius." She flashed me a congratulatory grin. "We're all geniuses."

"Ms. Evans," came the sharp low tones of Abraxas Malfoy's voice. "If I understand this correctly, you have single-handedly organized a mixed-House league of Hippogriff without the knowledge or permission of any of Hogwarts's governing bodies."

I met his steely gaze and did not immediately answer. If I answered in the affirmative, I was sure to be on my way to getting my wand snapped. So I banged on about some other technicality. "As you well know, Mr. Malfoy, it doesn't need any authorization," I said, waving vaguely about the stadium.

I tried not to grin too hugely as I finally got a handle on this confrontation.

This was it; Part 2. Everything we'd prepared for, everything we'd rehearsed since we decided to form a mixed-House Hippogriff Club League came down to this moment.

I looked back at the elder wizard. "Not when it's got two-thirds of the student body's support."

Malfoy's nostrils flared so violently, I thought perhaps he would breathe fire. "And are you or aren't you singularly responsible for this league?"

"Actually, Sir," cut in Jen, as she placed herself protectively between me and the elder Malfoy, "it was more of a team effort. As you know, Article Six, Section Three of the school laws permits club leagues as organized by the student body at its sole discretion as long as it has a majority two-thirds vote of said body in the affirmative. Which, as you can see," she continued, looking around at the gathered masses of students on the pitch, and then handing over the pile of parchment in her hands, "we definitely have."

Malfoy smirked, apparently amused. "And you are—?"

Jen smiled. "Jennifer Till, Sir, at your service."

"I take it your parents are Lombard and Patricia Till of the High Wizengamot Court," he said, inspecting her with a discriminating eye.

"The very same," she answered.

"Very well." He seemed to give in a little at Jen's display. Apparently touting around the Potter name wasn't enough to win him over—but cite the fact that you'd likely be up against two high-powered barristers, and Abraxas Malfoy was willing to back down.

I'd have to keep that in mind for any future encounters.

After a few minutes of tapping the parchments with his wand, presumably testing for any forgeries, Abraxas cleared his throat. "As Speaker of the School Governors, I must uphold and enforce all of Hogwarts' school laws. Therefore, it is not within our power to ban an inter-House league as so formed and supported by the student body, so long as it does not interfere with applied academics."

There was a collective cheer from the students behind me. Nott Senior sputtered angrily, his mustache bouncing under his nose as though it were an agitated caterpillar, and Bellatrix looked ready to murder.

Of course, Malfoy held up a hand for silence, and continued. "However, I can stop Ms. Evans's team from competing in this league due to Article Six, Section Three, Subsection F."

Bellatrix laughed openly, and looked as if she could clap in excitement.

Jen immediately pulled out a worn leather book from her robes, the words Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Book of Laws glinting in faded gold, and shoved it at me. I scanned the cited subsection and looked back up at Malfoy, unfazed. "That's easily sorted, Mr. Malfoy," I said. I set a determined stare on Bellatrix. "And when it is, we'll be playing to win, full-on."

James grabbed the book from my hands, Sirius and Marlene crowding around his shoulders to glimpse a better look at it.

"Article Six, Section Three, Subsection F,'" James muttered behind me. "'Club leagues must remain separate from intermural sports teams; no student competing in an intramural sport may participate in a club league." He sighed.

It meant neither Sirius, Marlene, nor Cara Wood, the Hufflepuff Quidditch Keeper that we'd recruited, would be able to play on my team. And Quidditch Captain James? Out of the picture.

"Oi, that's not fair!" Marlene cried.

"It's alright," I said. "We'll just need to regroup."

"That's your entire team, mate!" she insisted, her eyes large with worry.

I shrugged, resolute. "Rules are rules, right governors?"

Fenwick shot me a weak thumbs-up from behind Abraxas Malfoy, who only nodded in clear resentment.

"So, no match today, then?" asked a keen Frank Longbottom, who popped up between the two confronting parties with notebook and quill in hand.

Malfoy shot a nasty look at his niece, who seemed to look appropriately ashamed for having wasted his time. "I think our business here is finished," he said to the rest of the governors, and made to leave the Quidditch pitch.

"I think that's a 'no,' mate," said Peter to a disappointed Frank.

"Right, right," Frank answered, nodding into his notes. He was so completely absorbed in writing everything that he failed to notice that Peter had spelled his hair bright purple, and when he made his way over to Jen, presumably to ask for the legal details of the story, she doubled over laughing in hysterics.

The school governors, meanwhile, followed the imposing figure of Abraxas Malfoy off the pitch, with the exception of the young Fenwick, who remained behind, chatting animatedly with James.

Nott Senior was telling off his son, who seemed to have no other outlet but to glare daggers at Bellatrix, and she was currently sulking between Yaxley and Mulciber, her black school uniform contrasting against their grey and white robes.

She seemed to have predicted the canceled match this afternoon, but failed to foresee that we now had an even more legitimate arena in which to play out our little rivalry.

I sauntered over to her, gathering up my nerve to face her. "Black," I said.

She turned around and appraised me, disgust growing ever evident in her face until she met my eyes. "Mudblood," she replied. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to thank you, for taking this whole thing up with your uncle," I declared. "It was good of him to help us legitimize the league. It might have taken months to get a meeting with him otherwise."

She scoffed. "Oh, sod it, Evans. You don't even have a full team. You can't compete."

"That's easily sorted, Black. And since you just tried to pull such a cowardly tactic, I think it's time we renegotiate our terms."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, Evans; the bet is off. I was merely concerned about our Head Girl thinking she's above our school's rules," she said, mock-innocently, "who was forcing me to play a game that'd been banned. I simply had to ask my uncle for advice."

"Well, maybe he can advise you how to get your team into shape for the league. Because I'm playing to win, Black, and it'd be nice if when the whole school watches us beat you, fair and square, it's in the finals. Unless, of course, you'd rather admit defeat."

She rolled her eyes, clearly trying to appear as though what I said hadn't bothered her, but underneath her icy exterior, I could sense her fury. "Never," she said, her voice cold and cutting.

"Well, then," I smirked. "Welcome to the big leagues."

A/N: And, as always, I very much hope you're enjoying the story, because I'm certainly enjoying writing it!