The list went up for the Quidditch team the next day, and I awoke early again and waited in the common room for Felix to bring it down and post it on the notice board with a few other hopefuls.

"Up early, aren't we?" asked Felix, walking in, the list clutched in his left hand. I strained my eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the names scratched in his messy handwriting. We all watched as Felix made his way slowly over to the notice board, making sure not to look at any one of us, maybe as if trying to not give anything away. Maybe because he didn't want to look into the faces of the people he was about to let down.

I felt apprehension creep up on me, fanning my pulse to flare a little higher. My hands began to tremble. So what? I tried to tell myself. Did being in the Quidditch team really mean that much to me? I knew immediately that it did. It meant more to me than anything. Being in the Quidditch team was like an affirmation. It meant that I was skilled, that I was talented, that I was worth something. Without it, I was just a jerk who lost Gryffindor the house cup last year.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to draw in deep breaths. Felix continued to walk, practically in slow motion, to the notice board. He finally reached it, raising his hand. We rose with it, eyeing him as he stuck it up with Spellotape, fleeing the room as we all clustered around to see.

I walked more slowly than the others, feeling my heart pump so loud in my ears it drowned out any other noise. In front of me mute mouths congratulated and comiserated, silent hugs exchanged. Inaudible hands ushered me over, patting me on the back. With blank eyes I stared at the list.

Keeper: Bella Spruce

Beater: Dominic Perkins

Beater: Felix Browning

Chaser: Elise StClaire

Chaser: Michael Nixon

Chaser: James Potter

Seeker: Melissa Miller

At first, I scanned the list with disappointment, unable to recognize my own name. And then, I did a double take. Suddenly, colour and sound were restored to the world. I had the feeling of breaking water. There it was! My name! I, James Potter, was a Gryffindor chaser! Suddenly the congratulations washed over me like a wave, people shaking my hand and offering words of encouragement.

"You did it, James, you did it!" squeaked Peter, who had just come scurrying down the stairs to see the list.

"Well done, James!" exclaimed Sirius and Remus together, as the three of them trapped me in a bear hug. They held together as I wrestled my way out, my strenuous effort pulling us all to the ground in fits of rioutous laughter.

"We'll be looking forward to seeing you on the pitch, James," said Elise StClaire, a fellow chaser who was doing her OWLs this year.

"Yeah, with us three on a team, Slytherin won't even know what hit them!" said Michael Nixon, the other chaser in his fourth year. I smiled widely at them both, giddy with excitement.

On the way to breakfast, I was stopped by many people who offered me compliments and best wishes for the season ahead. As we walked past her office, Professor McGonagall popped her head out and called me inside.

"So, Potter, I hear you're the new Gryffindor chaser?" she asked.

"I am indeed, Professor," I replied proudly. She leant in, an absolutely sincere expression on her face. I wondered if I had done something wrong.

"Thrash Slytherin this year, won't you?" she asked, winking at me and then dismissing me from her office.

My victory, I found, was short lived. I hadn't realised the rigorous regime Felix was about to set up for us.

"This year," he began on our very first, five o'clock on a monday morning practice session, "We are going to win. And I don't just mean the games against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw or even against Slytherin. I mean the finals. I mean the Cup. That means that we will be up four mornings a week at five am with extra long practices on weekends. Trips to Hogsmeade will be cut short, family functions will be postponed, all work will be done in the evenings. You will all learn to juggle your social lives, school lives and Quidditch. If not, there's the door."

The room was mainly silent, apart from a few chuckles from the older kids in the back who were all friends with Felix and had been in the team since they were my age, along with Felix.

"Dom, do you have something to say?" asked Felix, unimpressed.

"No, Sir, nothing at all, Sir," he said, standing stark straight and saluting before sitting down, causing the previously tense air to dissolve into laughter. Felix, who was struggling to hold his serious expression, finally gave up and chuckled along, before raising a hand to stop us again.

"Alright, alright, we've all had our fun. Now, it's time to work. Do you all want to see Slytherin crushed?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" replied Dominic in a loud voice.

"Do you want to beat them for everything their worth?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" we all returned, joining in with him.

"Do we want to tear the Quidditch Cup from their undeserving hands?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"Then get out there and get practicing!" he yelled, and with uninhibited cheer we all charged out of the changing room and onto the pitch, kicking off into the air.

Two hours later, the euphoria had quite died away and had left nought but exhaustion. Every muscle in my bones ached as I dismounted and hurried to the showers and changed into my robes, scurrying over to Potions and praying I wouldn't be late.

"Just in time, Mr Potter! Come in, come in," ushered Professor Slughorn as I arrived, panting, at the door.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor," I said, bowing my head and slipping in next to Sophia, who had saved me a place.

"On the contrary, Mr Potter, you were cutting 'just on time', just try to be a bit earlier in the future, eh?" I nodded gratefully, pulling out my textbook, hastily pulling out my cauldron to begin the Swelling Solution.

The Swelling Solution was not one of my finer moments, I'll admit. Whilst fumbling to gather up all my spilled puffer fish eyes back into the jar, I accidentally knocked it to the side, where it went flying, splashing over my arm and hitting Sophia square in the face.

Both of us began to swell uncontrollably, and I felt with horror the skin on my arm pulling as if being pumped too full of air. Sophia could barely see any more, her marshmallow cheeks completely concealing her vision. But our skin just kept on growing to accomodate it. There was something wrong with my potion, I realised. We were supposed to be stopping, or at least slowing, but our limbs continued to grow.

Professor Slughorn scurried over with a Deflating Draught, trying desperately to force open Sophia's swollen lips to push some of the liquid down her whilst I downed an entire vial, gagging at the taste.

But we kept growing, the Deflating Draught merely pausing it for a minute before wearing off. Slughorn looked at us hopelessly. How much could I have messed this potion up?

But, we were soon to be rescued by the most unlikely hero.

"Professor, how about you try more Blackwood Root?" asked a painfully monotonous voice. "It will balance out the clear over-use of the Puffer Fish Eyes. It should also compensate for the skin growth."

"An excellent suggestion, Mr Snape! I rather wish I had thought of it myself." Professor Slughorn disappeared for a moment into the store-cupboard and emerged with the Blackwood Root in his hand. He forced a few shavings down Sophia's bulging throat, who immediately deflated back to normal again, and then put a few in my gargantuan hand. Reluctant simply because it had been bloody Severus' idea, I forced myself to swallow them. My arm went back to normal as I felt the Draught course through my veins, sucking the air from any unnecessary places.

"Thank you, Severus," said Sophia, cordially, though she still hadn't forgotten the mudblood comment he had made about her last year.

"Yes," I forced out, furious at the position he was putting me in, convinced somehow that this had all been his fault. "Thank you." he nodded smugly. I would beat that smug expression off his face if it was the last thing I did.

"That was humiliating," I muttered through clenched teeth as we left the classroom.

"I thought it was rather funny," said Sophia cheerily, nudging me and urging me to smile. I couldn't. All I could think about was Severus. How did he know about the Blackwood Root anyway? The little prig had been planning this, I was sure of it.

I was still sure of it a few weeks later, when once again I had spilled another faulty concoction, and like a little angel Snivellus waltzed in and saved the day.

"I think you're overreacting, James," said Remus as I vented to him. He was looking a bit peaky again, like he sometimes did. I wondered if it was time for another mysterious trip to who knows where.

"I am not! He planned it all, I swear! Think about it, really, has Snivellus ever been good at anything?"

"In all fairness, we did have Potions with the HufflePuffs last year. Severus might have been good at it without us realising it." said Remus, wearily.

"Why are you so defensive on his behalf?" I asked testily, annoyed enough.

"I don't have the energy for this, James," he replied, yawning. His face had- if it were possible- gone paler. Although it was still early, he announced, "I'm going to bed."

Remus mounted the stairs towards the boy's dormitories. Rather fatigued myself after the taxing combination of Snivellus, Potions fiascos and the first Quidditch match against Ravenclaw tomorrow, I jotted down a brisk and vague conclusion to my Transfiguration essay and followed him up.

That night, with Snivellus on the brain and apprehensive about the upcoming match, I couldn't sleep. I just watched the rising moon from my bed. And then, I heard a rustling from Remus' corner of the room.

I poked my head out to see Remus, hurriedly creeping out of the room, and I knew immeadiately what was going on. He was going to wherever he went all those nights. I knew immediately what I had to do, and the moment he had left the room I snatched my invisibility cloak and followed him out into the dark corridor