"What do you mean, roll?!" I screamed, balanced on my broom a few feet above the ground, and holding on for dear life.
I'd stolen the girls back out to the Quidditch pitch for a quick flying revision, hoping to prove Jen's hypothesis correct: even though I didn't recall learning how to fly, perhaps my body still remembered how to fly. I just needed a refresher course. In theory.
In practice, however, this was terrifying!
"You need a bit of momentum, Lily. Just swing under and come back up!" shouted Marlene.
Marlene demonstrated this so-called barrel-roll on her own broomstick next to me.
She made it look so easy, swooshing over and under and back up again, like the goddess of barrel-rolls and afros.
I muttered her words under my breath and shut my eyes as I swung myself under the broomstick. To my surprise, my body used the motion to right itself, and when I opened my eyes, it was to whoops and cheers from my mates.
I was okay.
I WAS OKAY!
And I could do a barrel-roll?
"Oh, well done!" Mary exclaimed, clapping her hands in glee.
Jen, of course, was walking on the ground with a clipboard in hand and checked something off. "Alright, let's try a loop. Marlene?"
It went on like this for half an hour, Jen would call out some bizarre and horrific trick from her List of Torture, Marlene would demonstrate, and I would attempt to copy her in true Lily-Evans-white-knuckle fashion.
"You have to relax, Lily!" shouted Jen.
"I AM RELAXED!" I yelled back.
But I was not relaxed.
I was the opposite of relaxed. I was running-off-into-the-Forbidden-Forest-because-the-horrors-that-awaited-me-there-couldn't-be-worse-than-attempting-to-fly-in-a-broomstick-race-when-I-didn't-know-how-to-fly-at-all nervy.
Nevertheless, I was a Gryffindor through and through, and I would see to it that I did all I could and conquered all of my fears to beat The Twenty-Eights in this friendly. (Jen was pretty insistent on this point.)
That's all that mattered. (So was Marlene.)
Oh, and to have fun or something. (On this point, Mary made me swear.)
While Mary and Marlene went into the stands, Jen and I handed out the team kit provided by the Ministry to our teammates just outside of the Hippogriff pitch. The sky was darkening overhead, and I only hoped to Merlin it wouldn't snow, or worse, rain.
When the girls had told me we'd decided to call ourselves the Millennium Falcons, I'd done a double-take. Because it was a decidedly Muggle thing, this Star Wars business. I would have thought we'd call ourselves after something with wings, or something fast, not after a fictional starship in a Muggle film!
But it gave me hope. If my teammates had had anything to do with the team name, then we'd get along swimmingly. I also had to hold back a snort at our team's uniforms: dove-grey robes with the shape of the Millennium Falcon in electric blue emblazoned on the back.
I had to ask Jen to break the news to them, however, considering they were virtual strangers to me.
Jen handed a kit to a tall, dark-skinned Ravenclaw boy with dreadlocks past his shoulders and bright orange spectacles. "Lily's been Obliviated," she said casually. "She remembers how to fly, but not that she knows how to fly, so if she seems a bit off, that's why."
The team turned to stare at me in shock.
"Fascinating," said the Ravenclaw boy, pushing his glasses up his nose by the bridge. "So you'll be flying by intuition?"
"Er, yes, that's right," I said awkwardly. We decided not to include the part where I didn't remember them at all, considering we had a match in an hour, and it was no time to make a fuss.
We needed to stay focused!
One of the Prewett twins (the taller one), clapped me on the back. "Rotten luck, Cap."
The other twin followed suit with a clap of his own and said, "Whatever you need, Cap, we won't let you down!"
Cap. I felt I should be at the helm of a ship or something.
"Are you alright? I thought it was your mum who was supposed to be Obliviated," said a girl with two long blonde plaits. I thought I recognized her from my Potions lessons, possibly called Henrietta or similar.
"It was an accident, of course," added Jen. "But enough of that now. We've got a match to win!"
The Millennium Falcons cheered. I attempted a weak hurrah.
A shy-looking boy with beautiful eyelashes blinked up at Jen. "D'you really think we can win?"
Jen looked him right in the eyes and lifted a single eyebrow. "That all depends on you, Cassimi."
Jen took over our warmups, which went surprisingly well, considering how many other teams were also using the pitch. I counted eight in total.
At one point, during a rather terrifying lap around the pitch while other teams were practicing with Bludgers, Jen signaled me over, a youngish Ministry official in purple robes at her side. I touched down a bit clumsily, tripping over my broom bristles, and Jen winced.
The Ministry official eyed us with the look of a person who needed some relief. "Evans, there you are!" she said. "I was wondering where our Head girl had got off to."
"Er, here I am!" I managed awkwardly. I shot Jen a panicked look as the Ministry official smirked. Did I know her?
"Nervous for your first match, then?" she asked. She had the most wicked winged eyeliner for a Ministry official.
I opened my mouth to reply but simply nodded in the affirmative.
She clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You'll be brilliant." She watched as my teammates practiced their batting skills. "Can't wait to see what you've all cooked up! I mean, look around, Evans. This is all because of you." She pointed to all the students zooming around on broomsticks, the Ministry purple robes in all sections, doing all sorts of preparatory work for the match. "Even The Daily Prophet is here! They'll want to interview you, of course. I've got a mate who works my old beat, and she's very good, you'll definitely want her to do a feature."
Winged Eyeliner Woman went on for a bit about her experiences at the Prophet, but I was still stuck on what she'd about how all of this was because of me. It wasn't the first time I'd heard that today—Jen had said the same thing about James's protest at the start of the Quidditch match.
Who was this Lily Evans who went around starting Hippogriff leagues, inspiring protests, flying on broomsticks, making friends with all sorts, and dating James Potter?
"So, they'll have to be grounded today, unfortunately," said the Ministry official, interrupting my thoughts.
"I beg your pardon?" said Jen. "What business is it of the Ministry? This is an inter-House team!"
Crikey, I'd missed something important!
I snapped back to attention as Jen began to argue with the Ministry official, who in turn, began to narrow her eyes.
"Look, Ms. Jorkins, you can't ground my players," Jen said.
Grounded?
The so-called Ms. Jorkins shrugged. "It's already been done. If they fly, your whole team will be disqualified."
Jen opened her mouth to shoot something back, but Jorkins smiled and said, "And before you say anything, yes, I know who your parents are. The rules on this are airtight, I'm afraid. Even checked with a Wizengamot member myself since I thought it was a bit unfair."
Jen colored bright red, and turned on her heel, blowing her whistle obnoxiously at the Millennium Falcons. They stopped their batting practice and gathered around us.
"Caradoc, Gideon. Would you care to explain to your team how you've both managed to fail this quarter's Charms exams?" asked Jen sternly.
Oh, shittering shit. Is that what was happening?
Gideon rubbed the back of his neck, which had reddened to match his hair in hue. "Er, I forgot it was happening this week if I'm honest. Normally, I'd revise for a practical, but it sort of slipped my mind. Had so many other things to prepare for."
"Like a Hippogriff friendly?" I asked pointedly. I grimaced internally; I sounded like his mum.
Gideon half-shrugged, but wouldn't meet my gaze.
"And what about you, Dearborn?" Jen asked, and the Ravenclaw boy blinked.
"Flitwick wouldn't accept my essay on magical signatures and how one can personalize a Charmed or Magicked object to respond more effectively to the person whose signature is incorporated into the charm itself, and how this magical individualism has a classist effect on the different economic demographics of British witches and wizards."
We all gaped at him.
He pushed his glasses up his nose by the bridge and added, "I was meant to write about House Charms, but I got a bit carried away."
Jen didn't seem to know what to say, except, "Well—I—I want a copy of that essay because it sounds very interesting and everything but you must stay focused! For some reason, your marks matter to the Ministry, and Bertha Jorkins just came over to tell me that you're both on academic probation and therefore grounded for the game!"
Caradoc, who had beamed with pride when Jen asked for a copy of his essay, looked as though someone had canceled Christmas. "Oh," he said solemnly. He immediately sat where he'd been stood and sank into the dead grass beneath him.
"They can't do that!" yelled Gideon.
"It's absolute codswallop!" exclaimed his twin.
Henrietta—or, the girl who wasn't Dorcas—turned to me. "Lily, can't you do something about this?"
"Er," I said. "Jorkins said the rule was airtight, even checked with a member of the Wizengamot about it."
But that didn't matter, because the Prewett twins had gone and whistled at Bertha Jorkins to come over. Even from a distance, I could see they were yelling at her in anger, gesticulating wildly with faces as red as their hair.
For her part, Jorkins didn't seem offended. She shook her head and shrugged, then nodded. As I walked over, I heard her say, "I don't like it either, lads, but rules are rules. Promise you'll stay on top of your marks, for me, then, eh?"
The twins, defeated, promised they would, and we all walked back to our corner of the pitch.
"Guess I've let you down, Cap," said Gideon sheepishly.
He sat down next to Caradoc, who shot me an equally grim expression.
"We've let the whole team down," muttered Caradoc. He slowly peeled off his flying gloves in a tragic show of self-pity.
"That's right," said maybe-Henrietta, hoisting a Beater's bat over her shoulder. "You have done, so remember this feeling the next time you're about to skive off revising or go down some rabbit hole of irrelevant analysis. You've a whole team that depends on you now, so you've got to be on your best behavior."
She walked off and started batting at Bludgers with Dorcas.
"Harriet Seabury," muttered Caradoc, shaking his head and pulling idly at blades of grass. "She'll run for minister one day."
HARRIET! Circe, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—the girl's name was HARRIET!
Five names down, two to go…
I peered down at Caradoc and Gideon, who were both sulking quite successfully in dove grey puddles.
"Alright, stop looking so pathetic, you two," I said. "We've got our first match today, we're down two players, and your Captain—me, apparently—doesn't remember she can fly on a broomstick due to a hate-crime gone wrong. So if you feel bad about letting down your team, then make yourselves useful!"
"But how?" asked Gideon. "If we can't even fly, how are we supposed to help?"
"I haven't flown a whit and I'm quite integral, in my opinion," said a nearby Jen. "Now you've heard your Captain; get up, and help me rewrite our lineup."
I, Lily Evans, was perched atop a broom.
The wind was picking up with a rather nasty bite to it as the sky above encroached further and further upon the Earth, dimming the sun, and threatening to leave the world awash in white.
And I was just barely managing not to freak out.
I was tucked between Fabian Prewett and Abed Cassimi (Jen had called us by our full names while she'd read out the full lineup), while we did our ceremonial opening lap around the Hippogriff pitch to much applause and pomp.
Fabian was our starter, I was second, Abed third, and Harriet, as our fastest flyer, would be our anchor and finish it all up for us. Dorcas would be sitting on the pitch with Jen in case one of us got swallowed up by a dragon or something and we needed an extra flyer.
"Hippogriff, hip hip!" called the Amplified voice of Bertha Jorkins from the center of the pitch to loud cheers from the stands.
I couldn't stand to see how many people were here watching the match, but it certainly sounded like at least half a billion.
"Welcome to the first friendly match of the Students of Hogwarts' Hippogriff League!" rang Jorkins' voice.
"Bit of a mouthful," I heard Cassimi say.
I wanted to send a smirk at him over my shoulder, but it felt too risky.
I certainly couldn't stand to look anywhere that would give me a hint as to exactly how far I was from the ground. My gaze was focused entirely on the glittering blue Millennium Falcon on Fabian's back.
Suddenly, someone knocked into me and cackled. Cackled. "Oh, excuse me, Head Girl," said a sarcastic voice. "Didn't see you there." Another laugh.
Of course. Bellatrix Black. I'd been wondering when she was going to show herself. I just hadn't counted on it happening when we were flying midair.
"What do you want, Black?" I asked, trying very hard to keep my eyes on Prewett.
"I just wanted to wish you luck," she answered, her voice silky. "Especially since I hear two of your best flyers won't be racing today?"
How had she heard about that? I whipped my head around to face her, and thankfully, my broom scarcely wobbled at the sudden movement. We were rounding our last turn. "Why don't you worry about your own team, Black?"
"Oh, I am. It's a pity the Ministry found out about that little rule about our marks, you know, but I think that if we're playing by the rules, then we should be playing by all of them, wouldn't you agree?" She laughed again, her teeth shiny and threatening. "Of course, that meant Yaxley was grounded, too, but he's rubbish on a broom, so really, it was worth the sacrifice."
"Are you saying this was all your doing?" I asked.
Bellatrix grinned as we neared the starting line and began our descent. I held onto my broom for dear life, but I managed it pretty smoothly.
"I thought of all people our Head Girl would understand—would be grateful even. Surely, a goody-two-shoes Gryffindor like you would want things to be—what's the word? Fair."
We jumped off our brooms while the first flyers got into position, and the rest of us headed off for the bats and Bludgers.
"It is funny, though," continued Bellatrix as she placed her Shooting Star with a silver handle next to Harriet's on the broom rack. "Two players fail their Charms exams when their Captain is the top Charms tutor in the castle. You've got to love the irony."
"It's not irony, it's a coincidence!" I called after her, but she merely cackled.
Harriet tossed a bat at me, and instinctively, I caught it, even though I'd been glaring daggers after Bellatrix Black as she walked away in her green and white kit.
Well, I'd certainly gotten sharper reflexes in the last few months!
"Alright, Cap?" she yelled.
I nodded just as Bertha Jorkins blew on her whistle, and eight starting flyers ran the first few meters of the race before setting off and up on their brooms, shiny Golden Snitches in hand.
"On your left!" screamed Cassimi, and I immediately swung left, my bat connecting with a Bludger and sending it toward a small flyer in black and blue robes. I prayed the entire time it wouldn't hurt them.
It hit the back of their broomstick, and they lost their balance for a moment but continued on course.
The commentator, whose voice sounded vaguely familiar, said, "That was a Bludger from Lily Evans, Captain of the Millennium Falcons, and she barely makes a dent on the Neckbreaker's starter flyer, Hamish Lawson."
Thank Merlin!
I hadn't realized a simple relay race could be so violent!
How had Alternate-Lily-Evans been okay with this part of the game? Wasn't I a pacifist?
"Left!" said Harriet, and as the players zoomed overhead, the ground was covered in racers in all sorts of colored robes, batting Bludgers up toward the flyers and yelling instructions at their teammates.
I watched as Fabian overtook a flyer in yellow and orange robes about halfway around, then shot up another Bludger at a flyer in a red and white kit catching up to him, hoping to Agrippa it would miss anything vital.
It hardly made contact with the rival flyer, and instead, hit someone in a green and white kit right in the face, causing a low rumble of sympathy to emanate from the stands.
"Oof! That's gotta hurt!" said that strangely familiar voice. "Evans with a blow to the Twenty-Eights!"
"Nice one!" called Harriet. "You got a Twenty-Eight!"
"Right!" yelled Cassimi. "Cap, on your right!"
Harriet looked over just in time to bat away a Bludger that had been aimed in my direction.
"Careful! They'll be wanting their vengeance for that now." Harriet glanced up at the flyers and nudged me toward the starting line. "You're going to need to meet Fae for the hand-off as soon as he's in the Hand-Off Zone. Best you takeoff early!"
I traded in my Beater's bat for one of the school's Cleansweeps, and tried to control the fluttering in my stomach and the pounding of my heart as I ran to the starting line.
"You've got this, Lily!" screamed Jen. "Just follow your gut!"
Follow my gut, she says. As though my gut weren't screaming for me to run away!
I took off without further ceremony, trying not to think about the fact that I had just knowingly pushed myself off the ground and into one of the most dangerous situations of my life so far.
The wind was suddenly freezing and not at all comforting as I awaited Fabian's hand-off with a few other players. He was rounding the final corner when he got hit by an incoming Bludger. A familiar cackle followed the sound of his broom cracking in two.
"Bellatrix Black hits the Millennium Falcon's starter player, Fabian Prewett!" said the commentator. I still couldn't place the voice.
I sped over to him just in time to seize the Snitch from his hand as he tumbled off his broom.
"And Evans intervenes just in time! That means the Falcons get to stay in the game! For now, at least," said the commentator. "But will their Captain actually race?"
"Lily, go!" yelled Jen, and I realized I'd been about to check on my fallen teammate when there was still a whole race to run!
I shook myself of the urge to follow Fabian and zoomed back into the race (Godric save me), keeping my head down low (Circe be with me), and dodging a few stray Bludgers (Merlin help me) as I attempted to overtake my fellow flyers.
I had more distance to cover since Fabian got taken out early, but soon, I was able to get pretty near the front of the group. I could feel someone right on my tail, and tried to shake them by slipping into the inside of the track, but they merely followed me.
Curious, I looked over my shoulder and nearly jumped at the shock that it was none other than Sev.
What in the bloody hell was he doing here? Playing a sport, of all things?!
I turned back and thought that if I couldn't get him out from behind me, then I needed to go faster. Instinctively, I inched my broom handle slightly downwards and my broom accelerated.
Faster, I thought, and I brought my ankles back to create more aerodynamism. I was practically parallel with my broomstick, and whilst the position was indeed quite worrying, it seemed to be working.
This time, when I looked back, Sev was several feet behind me and tucking behind somebody in a lime green and orange kit. As soon as I turned back, a nearby whistling sound triggered my body to do a sudden barrel roll, and even though I screamed the whole bloody way around, I was still okay!
The Golden Snitch was still in my hand, but I was losing my pace quickly.
I flattened myself against the broom and accelerated as much as I could, using the drag from a flyer in an indigo robe with silver horses rambling across the inky fabric.
"And Aria Knolls of the Arrows of Artemis takes the lead as our flyers reach the halfway point of this lap," said the commentator. "Following closely behind are Megan Lewis of the Rhiannon Riders and the Winged Wronski Warrior herself!"
The stands suddenly burst into a call of, "WRONSKI WARRIOR, SHE'LL DESTROY YA!"
I looked around wildly for this Wronski Warrior person; she sounded absolutely bloody terrifying!
A girl with a crown of blonde curls in black and blue robes just to the right of me threw me a sneer, and I surmised she must be the Wronski Warrior—every last curl of the lip of her seemed menacing.
She gave a low grunt as she attempted (but failed) to overtake me, and then glared at me as though it were my fault she wasn't properly flat against her broom.
Yeah, she even looked like all she wanted was to destroy me. I definitely needed to watch my back.
How in Merlin's beard was I okay with playing this sport, again? Especially when there were players in it that had nicknames and chants with the words "warrior" and "destroy" in them?
It was way too violent; it didn't make any bleedin' sense!
Suddenly, another Bludger threatened to take us all off our brooms as we were clustering much too closely.
As we broke out of formation, I ducked under the flyer in robes with the pretty horses, which gave me quite the advantage, and I was able to bob back upright in front of her.
"And there's the Wronski Warrior in second place just three-quarters over the way through our second lap! Will she dazzle us with one of her renown dives to doom?" said the commentator.
Dives to doom?
I searched around for the Mean Blonde Girl, but another Bludger flew past my ear, and I zig-zagged wildly out of the way, nearly knocking into the flyer with the horse robes.
"Sorry!" I called over my shoulder.
Suddenly, something did knock into me, and I felt my stomach drop as I lost my balance and got knocked upside down.
Panic, panic, panic!
My eyes were squeezed shut as I tried very hard not to acknowledge my current situation. But no amount of eye-closing would make this any better. Slowly, I opened them, as another flyer sped past me.
Oh, soddering hell.
There I was, Lily Evans, Head Girl, and Reluctant Hippogriff Captain, hanging upside down on a broomstick by my knees and one hand in the middle of a race, and the only thing I could think was,I hope my knickers aren't showing.
"Evans has been knocked by a Bludger while the rest of the flyers zoom past!" said the commentator.
I hadn't the strength to right myself and had lost the momentum to try it. I had been overtaken by at least two flyers—I couldn't just stay there, even if I was upside-down.
There was only one thing to do. I tugged my broomstick handle towards me and off it went, jetting forward into the mass of flyers.
"INCREDIBLE! A WORLD-CLASS SLOTH-GRIP, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" yelled the commentator, clearly impressed.
I had no idea what he was talking about. My hair was coming out of its plait and totally obscuring my line of vision, so I tried to crane my neck to see through the dark red cloud and steer whilst upside down, which apparently, my body knew how to do even though I screamed every time the broom so much as jostled.
If I could just get my broom to go fast enough, I might be able to swing back up!
At least, that was what my gut told me.
Helga, Rowena, and Salazar! This was MADNESS!
Just as I thought I was probably going to suffocate in my hair, I spotted Abed with his hand outstretched.
Oh no.
I was going to have to do the hand-off upside-down!
"WRONSKI WARRIOR, SHE'LL DESTROY YA!" I heard the crowd chant.
Sweet Merlin! I needed to get to Abed before the fucking Wronski Warrior turned up and decided to destroy me!
I reached my hand with the Golden Snitch out as far as I could get it to Abed as I neared the Hand-Off Zone. My spine had a good stretch and my shoulder nearly dislocated itself in the process.
"Hippogriff, hip hip!" I heard myself say, which was entirely alarming because I had not planned to say such a thing.
"Hip hip!" responded Abed, and he grasped the Snitch with his fingers and was off for the third leg of the race.
Meanwhile, I was nearing the ground, still hanging upside-down on my broomstick. With both hands free, however, I managed to spiral back upright just in time to dismount in such a graceful manner, that my accidental upside-down stint might have looked like I'd done it totally on purpose. And maybe—just maybe—no one saw my knickers at all.
I mean, a girl can hope, right?
I tossed my Cleansweep aside and ran for a bat.
"How's Fae?" I asked, as I neared Harriet.
My hair was everywhere, and I pushed as much of it back behind my ears as I could. Harriet nodded behind her where the aforementioned Prewett twin ran across the field, positively gleeful as he batted a Bludger across the field toward the flyers.
"You alright, Cap? That was quite the move at the end there," she said, smirking. "Sure you don't remember how to fly?"
I ran suddenly for an incoming Bludger and batted it away from the flyers. "I really don't," I said.
"Behind you!" called Harriet, and I swung backwards over my head, only to hear a Bludger hit the ground with a terrible thwack.
Harriet walked over and watched the Bludger struggle to become airborne as it wriggled on the ground. "Alright, think I believe you," she said. Then, she picked up the Bludger and hit it in Fabian's direction. "LEFT, PREWETT!" she screamed.
Fabian turned and gracefully hit the Bludger so that it arced towards a flyer in white and scarlet robes, who neatly dodged it. Unfortunately, they failed to dodge one of the Twenty-Eights.
The commentator observed, "Swooping Swallow member, Joshua Goldstein, dodges a Bludger right into Captain of the Twenty-Eights, Bellatrix Black."
Bellatrix knocked back into Joshua, who nearly slipped off his broom entirely, but he didn't leave it alone, and knocked back into Bellatrix as soon as he got a chance. She swiftly bobbed down and out of the way.
While those two performed their dangerous (and slightly illegal) dance duet midair, Abed tailed someone in a black and blue robe—someone from the Wronski Warrior's team—until he overtook them on the inside turn halfway around the pitch.
That was a dangerous place to be, but he flew confidently.
"CAP, ON YOUR RIGHT!" yelled Fabian, and I scarcely dodged an incoming Bludger.
"Bloody hell," I cursed, and I realized I was properly shaking.
Fabian jogged over and sent the offending Bludger to the opposite end of the pitch. "Alright?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern.
I shuddered. "I'm—processing," I answered.
He nodded, and jogged back to midfield.
Harriet ran past me and flung her bat at my feet. "Gonna meet Abed—he's doing rather well, eh?"
I didn't have any time to answer as she'd already taken off toward her broom. But she immediately went into a panic. She called Jen over, who tossed her clipboard unceremoniously into the browned grass, and they both started panic-rifling through the broomsticks on the broom rack near the starting line.
Frowning, I jogged over to them. "What's going on?"
"I can't find my broom!" said Harriet.
"Oh, use one of the school's!" I said, and I grabbed a random Cleansweep from the rack.
Harriet groaned. "I'm not as fast on a Cleansweep; I need my broom."
"What?" I asked, frowning even deeper.
Jen put a hand up. "It's a whole thing," she said. "Just help us find it. It's a Comet."
If possible, I frowned even more. "Isn't that an older broom? How can it be faster?"
Jen shot me a look that clearly said, Not now! So I rummaged through the brooms on the rack when I recognized the silvery handle of Bellatrix's Shooting Star.
"Er, Harriet? I think Bellatrix has your broom," I said, lifting up the Shooting Star. "This one's hers, and I remember she'd put it next to yours on the rack."
Harriet gaped. "What in the bloody fuck has she done that for?"
"My guess is she's heard about you and your broom somehow," said Jen. She shot a look over at Dorcas, who immediately got up and came over.
"What's going on?" asked Dorcas.
"Someone's been gathering confidential information and sneaking it behind enemy lines," said Jen, eyeing Dorcas suspiciously.
Dorcas frowned. "What?"
"Somehow, Bellatrix found out about how fast Harriet can fly on her Comet," clarified Jen. "Because it's gone missing, and Bellatrix has left her own broom on the rack."
Dorcas, either oblivious to Jen's accusation or choosing to ignore it, merely searched the sky for Bellatrix, who was flagging behind the other flyers, starting and stopping on her broom, with a look of pure murder on her face.
"Doesn't look like whoever gave her that information mentioned the fact that it only works with Harriet because it's got her magical signature incorporated into the charmwork." She stared back at Jen and smiled. "To be clear, I'm a Millennium Falcon now, and I'm pretty sure Black's got the message loud and clear."
Jen laughed as we heard Bellatrix screaming bloody murder through the air as her broom dipped violently several feet. "Touché, Meadowes."
"Captain of the Twenty-Eights is having trouble controlling her broom! Will she make it to the starting line in one piece?" said the commentator.
Confused, but altogether quite impressed, I laughed with Dorcas and Jen as I realized that whatever backhanded sabotage Bellatrix had planned, it had backfired rather spectacularly on her.
"Abed!" Harriet squealed uncomfortably. She grabbed the Shooting Star from my hands, and took off to the starting line.
She just barely managed to make it to Abed before tearing off across the pitch on Bellatrix's broom.
"Wow, she's really fast," I whispered in awe.
She started off strong in a good position, third overall, with several meters to gain before she could overtake the two racers neck-in-neck for first and second place. She was completely vulnerable, a lone flyer between two pairs, and an easy target for a Bludger.
Meanwhile, Bellatrix had yet to hand-off her Snitch to her own anchor flyer, but she wasn't the only one.
A younger girl flitted impatiently on her broom in the Hand-Off Zone, waiting for her teammate to present the Golden Snitch so that she could be on her way.
Abed and I had just run back to the pitch to keep the Bludgers from pulverizing Harriet, when the crowds in the stands gasped in unison.
"Briony Berry's let go of the Golden Snitch!" exclaimed the commentator.
From what Jen's told me, that's grounds for disqualification!
I wheeled around, hunting the air for Briony Berry and the escaped Snitch.
"If someone from another team catches that Snitch, they win the match," said a voice behind me.
W H A T?!
"That's not a real rule," said another voice. "Just the sort of thing you might add on when you and your cousins are playing in the back garden."
"It's in the original manual," answered the first voice.
I turned around to find two flyers in blinding lime green and orange kits batting away and arguing over arcane Hippogriff rules.
"Well, we're not playing with the original manual," said a tall boy with deep brown skin and maroon eyes.
His teammate, a shorter boy with black hair like Paul McCartney's, swung his bat at an incoming Bludger, and grunted, "Be fun if we were, though."
Bertha Jorkins blew on her whistle, and I searched for the origin of the sound until I located her, hovering a few feet away from the Hand-Off Zone.
"Bad luck for the Fleeting Fireballs," said the commentator. "Berry's Golden Snitch has escaped and disqualified her team from the match. Keep onto your Snitches, everyone!"
Why was that voice so familiar?
I ran across the pitch to catch a Bludger just before it hit the ground and sent it caterwauling to nowhere. Hopefully, no one noticed.
"LEFT!" screamed Fabian, and I swung left without skipping a beat. My bat made contact with a Bludger that went directly toward the pair in front of Harriet. It hit the handle of one of the flyers and sent their broom into a tailspin, catching the other flyer in its wild descent.
Harriet dodged them both.
"And it's Harriet Seabury in first place, thanks to a Bludger sent by her own captain!" said the commentator. "It seems the Millennium Falcons are certainly here to prove something."
Harriet was rounding the last corner of the pitch, with yards between her and the rest of the flyers; she was as vulnerable of getting hit by a Bludger as ever. And she wasn't even on her own broom!
Suddenly, I was shoved to the ground. "Out of the way, Mudblood!" shrieked a voice, and in the moment it took me to stand back up and wipe the literal mud from my hands, someone had sent a Bludger straight for Harriet.
She was so close to the Hand-Off Zone.
An evil cackle filled the air as I watched in horror while a Bludger hit the outstretched arm of Fabian Prewett as he reached for the Golden Snitch in Harriet's hand.
"Bloody hell!" I said and ran for the rack of brooms.
For the second time that afternoon, Fabian Prewett fell to the ground.
Without thinking, I grabbed a broom and took off toward Harriet.
"And of course, here comes the Wronski Warrior to save the day!" said the commentator, but I was too busy to look for her, wherever she was; I had to get to Harriet!
The second flyer was closing in on her, and her teammate was in position to receive the Golden Snitch and win the match. If Fabian hadn't fallen, the Millennium Falcons would have won already.
I wasn't going to make it to her in time, and as soon as I'd had the thought, I felt myself spring up onto my cushion and stand to give myself as much height as possible, and reach for the Golden Snitch in Harriet's hand.
"HIPPOGRIFF, HIP HIP!" I yelled.
The crowd roared to life as I grasped my fingers around the Snitch.
"WRONSKI WARRIOR, SHE'LL DESTROY YA! WRONSKI WARRIOR, SHE'LL DESTROY YA!" they chanted.
I surfed back to the ground, Harriet right behind me, and my teammates immediately swarmed us.
"AND THE WRONSKI WARRIOR HAS DONE IT! SHE'S WON THE MATCH!" exclaimed the commentator. "UNBELIEVABLE!"
Well, fuck. I'd done my best, but the Wronski Warrior had beat me to it. I didn't bother to look for her, I just wanted to be sure my team was still in good spirits. Second place was alright, wasn't it?
I observed my teammates and swallowed my disappointment to prioritize more important things. "Is Fabian alright?"
"I'll be fine," he said. "But more to the point—how do you feel right now?"
I searched my person for any injuries but couldn't find any. "Think I'll live," I said.
"Lily, I can't believe you did all that," said Jen, looking at me with wide eyes. "What in Merlin's name possessed you?"
Gideon and Caradoc came running up to us and pushed us all together in a group hug, squishing me in the middle, and filling me with giddy laughter.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU PULLED THAT OFF, CAP!" said Gideon.
"Lily Evans, you're a fucking rock star and I worship you," said Marlene as she and Mary rushed up to join us.
The team all started cheering and whooping and I thought it was so nice that they were so supportive of my flying. I hadn't remembered how to do it at all, but I'd done it anyway. I'd pulled it off! I must have trained really hard in the last few months. I was stronger than I'd ever been!
I smiled brightly. "It was rather unexpected, wasn't it?"
They all hummed in agreement.
"Too bad that Wronski Warrior person won the match. Second place isn't so bad, though, is it? Especially if I'd managed to steer clear of her—the Wronski Warrior—what a dreadful thing to call someone," I added.
To which they all practically fell to the floor in laughter.
"Lily," Jen managed in between wheezes. "You silly billywig. You're the Wronski Warrior!"
I stared at her, dazed.
What.
I was what?!
I WAS THE WRONSKI WARRIOR?
Oh my Godric! What had I done to deserve such a terrifying nickname?
This alternate Lily Evans must be some sort of mass hallucination of violent proportions!
Just as I was about to say so, Bertha Jorkins approached us with a golden crest the size of my head. "And in first place, winning the title of the 1977 Students of Hogwarts Hippogriff League Friendly Match, the Millennium Falcons!" she announced in her Amplified voice.
"That's a mouthful," muttered Dorcas, and we all laughed under our breaths.
The crowds roared in a mixture of cheers and boos.
Frank Longbottom, Sirius Black, a Slytherin girl, a Hufflepuff boy, and a woman from The Daily Prophet had us pose for pictures and asked a slew of questions. Possibly my favorite exchange was when the reporter for the Prophet asked, "Ms. Evans, where did you learn to fly like that?"
And without any humor at all, I answered, "I can't remember." But they all laughed anyway.
It began to snow, filling the pitch like a magical snowglobe. I was still dazed at having found out we'd won that I barely noticed Potter had made his way down to the green.
"Hey," he said, approaching cautiously.
My heart immediately pounded a thousand miles a minute, but it wasn't out of panic. It was—elation. This was a surprise, considering I'd gotten rather cross with him before.
"Hi," I managed, my voice small.
"Congratulations," he said, gesturing at the golden crest currently on display in Gideon Prewett's arms, who kept saying, "I'm holding it for Fae," though he was clearly milking the glory out of the moment.
I nodded. "Thank you."
Potter rumpled his hair nervously. I wanted to rumple it even more. "That was some game."
"So was yours," I said. He held his arms behind his back awkwardly as though he were holding himself back from something. "I meant to say so earlier, but…"
He looked pained. "Look, I know you don't remember we're in a relationship, and that's okay. I don't care if it takes weeks or months or—"
"Potter," I said, trying to stop him, because I really couldn't handle this right now, not with the stupid sense of yearning stretching my chest like some kind of inflatable balloon.
"No, let me get this out!" A hand went through his hair again, and he stared at the ground. When he looked back up at me, his eyes were pleading, and my breath caught in my throat. "I ... care about you, and I know we have something special here so I'm not giving it up that easily."
Just as a stray snowflake landed in his jet-black hair, the stupid yearning in my chest turned into something like hope and I wanted to die.
"And I know you think it's mad and it doesn't make sense or anything, but, Lily, if you can still remember how to fly"—he suddenly took my hands in his and I felt myself practically melt—"then surely you must remember this, remember me somehow."
His face was mere inches from mine.
He cupped my face in his hand. "Tell me you don't feel something," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.
The hope in my heart bloomed quite out of my control, filling me with such sudden warmth and aching that without understanding why, I leaned up and kissed him.
For a moment, I'd forgotten that I'd forgotten anything. It was just me and James.
James. Oh, dear.
Gently, I pulled back from the kiss but couldn't make myself move out of his embrace, for there, in his arms, I was safe, I was okay, and I was warm.
I gazed into his hazel eyes, which were peering back at me with such intensity I was mesmerized.
Oh, sweet Merlin.
I, Lily Evans, was in trouble.
Because even though I couldn't remember why or how or when it'd all started, I knew.
I just knew.
I loved James Potter.
And that was far more terrifying than anything I'd faced that day.
A/N: I honestly hadn't plotted for the Millennium Falcons to win at all, but then Lily just. Did That. *shrugs* And you know what? After all that she's been through, I thought she could use a win. As always, dear ones, thank you for reading; you are very kind to have stuck with me this long!