Saturday, March 12, 1977
Rule #52 Always be prepared to take a Bludger for a teammate if necessary
The wind howled and buffeted the Quidditch players as the March rain stung their faces and soaked their robes. Three hours in, both the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor players looked grim and determined to end the match as soon as possible. James smiled with satisfaction as he passed the Quaffle to Unicorn and watched her send it flying past the Hufflepuff Keeper's outstretched hands, increasing Gryffindor's lead to 50 points. He turned and flew in the opposite direction, in pursuit of the Hufflepuff Chaser now in possession of the Quaffle, but pulled up short when he noticed something amiss out of the corner of his eye. One of the Hufflepuff Beaters had momentarily lost control of his broom in the strong wind and had rammed into Nards, causing her to drop her bat in alarm. James glanced around for Bransnog and spotted him halfway across the field, guarding Seven closely and apparently unaware that anything had happened to Nards.
Shit, James thought, directing his broom in the direction of the two Beaters and weighing the pros and cons of calling a timeout. He had almost reached Nards when he heard rather than saw an approaching Bludger. Time seemed to slow for a few seconds, then resumed normal speed again as his body reacted without giving his mind time to process the consequences. He flew directly in the path of the Bludger, blocking Nards with his body and absorbing the impact of the bludger with his left arm. He felt nothing for a moment, and looked down with detached interest at his arm, which now hung at a strange angle and would not cooperate when he tried to lift it. He looked back up at Nards, smiling in bemusement as he took in her panicked face and watched her lips moving frantically, yet he heard no words. She gestured at him, apparently trying to tell him something, and he tried to reply, but all he could manage was to blink in confusion. Seeming to lose patience, Nards reached towards James, seized the whistle around his neck, and blew it sharply.
"For fuck's sake, Potter!" Nards shouted, and time resumed its normal speed in a rush of deafening sound, driving wind, and blinding pain. "Get to the ground before you fall off your broom, you prat!"
With a supreme effort, James followed her to the ground and dismounted from his broom, then stared at her for a moment before he finally succeeded in putting words together.
"Nards, you've violated rule #50," he said calmly, trying to ignore the pain in his arm.
She gaped at him. "You just took a Bludger for me, and you're scolding me for using your bloody whistle?" She threw her hands up in exasperation.
"The match is still going, Nards. Never mind me, just get back up there," James continued in that same eerily calm manner. He attempted to lift his arm again, then immediately regretted this decision as a sharp pain forced him to grit his teeth to keep from crying out.
Nards opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat as she heard a faraway whistle blast and a cheer from the Gryffindor section. Her eyes widened, and she raised her eyebrows at James, momentarily forgetting her frustration and anger.
"Did we just-" she began, but the rest of her question became irrelevant when the remaining members of the Gryffindor team descended upon them in a chaotic combination of cheering, shouting, and hugging.
"We've won!" Bransnog shouted, embracing Nards tightly and jumping up and down. "What happened? You disappeared for a minute." He looked at her quizzically when he finally released her.
"What's wrong?" Seven asked, the still-struggling Snitch clutched in her hand but forgotten as she noted the awkward angle of James's arm and the pain that replaced the look of triumph he typically wore when Gryffindor won a match.
"He flew directly in the path of a damn Bludger to block me and broke his fucking arm, that's what's wrong," Nards replied hotly, causing a flurry of gasps and shocked swearing from the rest of the team. "What were you thinking, Potter?"
He took a deep breath and grimaced slightly. "There wasn't actually much thinking involved, to be honest, I just sort of reacted automatically." He turned to Seven. "I'd say it was worth it, though, right? We won," he continued, pointing at the Snitch still held tightly in her small hand.
"Yes, we did," she allowed, smiling shyly. "It was rather dangerous, though, Nards is right."
James ran a hand through his hair, albeit a bit more gingerly than he normally would, looking entirely unconcerned with the danger of his bold maneuver. "It's not the first reckless and possibly life-threatening thing I've ever done, and it certainly won't be the last. I saw what was about to happen, and I reacted, and I'm not sorry I did it, so don't waste your breath scolding me for it. Nards, do you realize that if that Bludger hit you wrong it could have seriously affected your Quidditch career?" He looked directly at her while he continued to speak. "Do you realize there will probably be scouts from England at our next match, and if you're out or not playing your best, that's it for you." He shook his head. "No way I was letting that happen."
She frowned. "You said you reacted without thinking. You mean to tell me you considered the possible impact on my Quidditch career in the half second between realizing that Bludger was heading for me and diving in front of it?"
He considered this for a moment. "Maybe not consciously, but it was sort of in the back of my mind, and my body acted accordingly."
"And what about the possible consequences for your own Quidditch career?" she demanded.
"Well, I hadn't thought that far, to be honest," he replied.
"What if you'd died?" she persisted.
"Oh, don't be dramatic. I didn't die, and Pomfrey can fix this in about a minute, and anyway it's not my dominant arm, so my impeccable Quidditch playing abilities will be unaffected." He grinned at his team, trying not to let them know how much his arm was actually hurting him. "Rule #52: Always be prepared to take a Bludger for a teammate if necessary. Now escort my heroic arse to the hospital wing so I can get fixed up and join the party as soon as possible, okay?"
Nards stared at him for a minute, seemingly overwhelmed by her conflicting emotions, before suddenly throwing her arms around him. She released him quickly when he whimpered in protest at the pressure on his injured arm, but she continued to stare at him, eyes brimming with tears.
"You really think I could play for England?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.
He tried to grin, but it ended up as more of a grimace. "Yeah, I do. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. You've got real talent, Nards."
She shook her head slightly. "You're one of the craziest, most idiotic people I know. But thanks, Potter." She turned to the rest of the team. "Well, you heard him. Let's get this heroic prat up to the hospital wing!"
Two hours later, James had finally managed to extricate himself from Madam Pomfrey's fussing and had slunk furtively out of the hospital wing when she left him to tend to someone else. It had been difficult enough to banish the Gryffindor team from the hospital wing; they determinedly ignored Madame Pomfrey's increasingly insistent commands and only left when James promised them all with an obvious wink that he would see them soon. Once they'd left, it took almost no time at all to restore his arm to its previous, fully-functional state, and he felt it was a waste of time to remain in the hospital wing any longer. Madam Pomfrey had other ideas, however, and refused to be persuaded to let him leave. By the time he finally managed to sneak out he felt antsy and eager to get back to the common room to enjoy the party. When he finally reached the portrait hole, he entered the common room to much applause and cheering and promptly fixed himself a drink and joined a game of Exploding Snap.
Perhaps a half hour later, the portrait hole swung open to admit Professor McGonagall, but everyone was so absorbed in the party that they paid her no notice until she stood over James, frowning at him.
"Mr. Potter," she said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Would you be so kind as to join me out in the corridor?"
He quickly set down his drink and followed her, trying to get his story straight in his head.
"Mr. Potter," she said, crossing her arms and fixing him with her sternest glare. "I planned to visit you in the hospital wing and congratulate you on a well-played match."
"Oh," he replied, trying to think fast. "Well, that's kind of you, Professor. I, er, was not in need of any further medical attention, so I left the hospital wing. "
"You were not in need of any further medical attention?" McGonagall repeated, pursing her lips.
"That is correct." James moved his left arm back and forth to demonstrate his full recovery.
"And is that Madam Pomfrey's assessment, or are you basing your statement purely on your own extensive medical knowledge ?" McGonagall persisted.
"The second one," James replied. "I felt it would be unethical to prolong my stay in the hospital wing. I mean, why waste time and resources that could be put to better use helping students who are actually ill?"
"How magnanimous of you," McGonagall said sarcastically. "Mr. Potter, when are you going to learn that you are not above the rules? If you are told to stay in the hospital wing, I expect you to remain there, even if, according to your expert medical opinion, you believe it an unnecessary measure." McGonagall fell silent and eyed him thoughtfully for a moment. When she finally spoke again, her voice had become softer. "Now, I was going to come speak to you in the hospital wing because I think you did a very brave, selfless thing today."
He looked at her sharply, surprised. "You do? You don't think it was reckless and stupid?"
She smiled slightly. "Oh, it was undoubtedly reckless and stupid, but I've come to expect that sort of behavior from you. If you started thinking through every decision carefully and avoiding danger, I'd be concerned."
James grinned at her. "Fair enough."
"Nevertheless," she continued, "I'm proud of your actions today. Potter, have you ever heard the story of my last Quidditch match at Hogwarts?"
"No, but is it the reason you have the 'Fuck Slytherin' banner hanging in your office?" he asked eagerly.
"Language, Potter, and I have no such banner hanging in my office," she replied. "However, I can't deny that the events of that match left me with a lifelong desire to see Slytherin lose. You see, it was the last match of the season, and it was very close. Slytherin resorted to blatant cheating, if you can believe that." She smiled nastily. "We had taken the lead, and of course Slytherin didn't like that, so one of their Beaters simply lost his temper and sent a Bludger directly at my head - completely unprovoked, just disgraceful, one of the worst fouls I've ever seen. I fell off my broom-"
James gasped and swore loudly in protest, but this time McGonagall did not chide him, just continued with her story.
"I ended up with a nasty concussion and some broken ribs, and Gryffindor lost the match," she continued, sighing. "Anyway, what you did today for Miss Bernard may have made all the difference for her Quidditch career." She looked him directly in the eye. "So even though it was incredibly dangerous to fly directly in front of a Bludger, it was also incredibly brave, and I applaud you for it." She touched his shoulder briefly. "However, that does not excuse the fact that you blatantly disregarded the recommendation of Madam Pomfrey and left the hospital wing without permission." She frowned at him, stern and businesslike again. "Since you can't follow the rules, I have no choice but to put a stop to the party."
"But Professor-" James protested, but she held up a hand.
"No buts, Potter. I just shared a rare glimpse into my past. Do you really think you're going to get lucky enough to hear that story and be allowed to continue partying with your friends all in one night?"
He sighed. "All right, fair enough." He strode resignedly through the portrait hole and, after grinning to herself for a moment, McGonagall rearranged her face into a stern scowl and followed him. "Okay, you hooligans!" James shouted. "Due to my blatant disregard for the rules, this party is being terminated, effective immediately. That's right, fun's over, my apologies, everyone!"
Tuesday, March 22, 1977
Lily approached the table by the window where Nards, Bransnog, and Unicorn sat, diligently working on homework. She scanned the room quickly, checking that James still sat by the fire making bits of parchment orbit Remus's head and paying little attention to anything else. Satisfied, she tapped Nards on the shoulder and said, "Hi, I was wondering if I could ask your input on something?"
Nards looked up from her Charms textbook, appearing grateful for the distraction. "Sure," she replied. "What can I do for you?"
Lily kept her voice low. "Well, as you probably know, James's birthday is coming up, and I wanted to get him a new whistle." She blushed slightly. "Did you hear about what happened to his other whistle?"
"His lucky whistle?" Nards asked apprehensively. "Oh no, what happened?"
"I, er, well, McGonagall confiscated it indefinitely, and it's somewhat my fault," Lily said guiltily.
"Oh, wait, was that the same day he was blowing the whistle and shouting at people for violating made up rules all day?" Unicorn asked. "Because if so, I wouldn't say it's completely your fault it got confiscated. He was being a bit obnoxious."
"More than a bit," Lily admitted. "But I'm the one who told McGonagall to take it away - I didn't know it was so important!" She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "I mean, you guys are a great team. Why should it make a difference what whistle he uses?"
Bransnog shrugged. "We can't explain it, it's just one of those things you don't mess with, you know?"
"I suppose. Anyway, I wanted to get him a new whistle and engrave it to make it more personal. I was going to put 'James Potter, Quidditch Captain' on one side, but I wasn't sure what else to do."
"Ooh, I love that idea!" Unicorn said excitedly. "You should do his Quidditch number, too, and maybe a Gryffindor crest."
"And you have to have rule #1," Nards added.
"What's rule #1?" Lily asked.
"Never fucking give up," Bransnog explained. "He says it all the time."
"Of course he does," Lily said, smiling affectionately. "All right, well, thanks, that's very helpful. And hopefully this new whistle will be even luckier for you."
Nards smiled knowingly. "You know, it's very nice of you to get James a birthday gift, and such a thoughtful one at that."
"Well, he gave me a rather thoughtful gift for my birthday, so I wanted to do the same for him. He's a decent friend, even if he can be an obnoxious git." She raised her eyebrows at Nards. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Nards smiled innocently. "No reason. It's nice you two have become friends, that's all." She glanced across the room at James, then looked back at Lily, still wearing that knowing look, before returning to her textbook.