Chapter Five: The Game is Up

Lily had only ever been truly nervous twice before in her life.

The first had been way back at the beginning of first year, right before the Sorting, when she'd thought she'd lose her friends forever by being placed in Slytherin. The second time had been that incident with James Potter in fifth year.

And now, once again, Lily was nervous.

She took in the several hundred people who sat in the stands with a sense of growing horror. Marlene and Arabella were here because they'd insisted on coming along. She'd thought only maybe a couple of Gryffindors showed up to watch these things. But there were more than just Gryffindors; the other Houses also had a strong interest in who their rivals were going to be.

Lily's nerves didn't improve when she caught sight of Potter sitting with his cronies. He was leaning back, watching the crowd of potential Seekers, hands laced behind his head. She noticed that Sirius and Peter Pettigrew were with him. Lupin was obviously still ill.

"You'll do fine, Lily," Marlene said with a reassuring smile. "There's no need to look so worried!"

Lily managed to paste on a weak smile and walked towards the group of prospective players who were milling around Frank. Her palms were so sweaty they slid slightly down the Cleansweep's handle. She wiped them surreptitiously on her robes.

"Alright everyone, shut up!" Frank bellowed. The stands and Seeker hopefuls fell silent. At normal volume he continued, "I want you to do a lap of the pitch first. This is standard procedure for any Quidditch try-out and it proves you can ride a broom competently. Off you go!"

Lily swung a leg over the broomstick and kicked off. A rush of wind blew her fiery red hair back. She smiled involuntarily, her anxiety dissipating. She could do this, of course she could, why had she ever thought she wouldn't be able to? She wondered why she'd never thought about Quidditch before. Her body liked being on a broomstick. Maybe she wasn't some sort of lethal weapon like Sirius and Potter were, but she could hold her own. Couldn't she?

Lily knew she would have to, both to prove to Potter that she could and to get out of detention. That meant she would have to scope out the competition. About halfway through her lap, she looked over her shoulder to see who else had managed to get this far without falling off.

To her surprise, out of about thirty people who had turned up, at least ten seemed to be having major problems. She rolled her eyes. Why show up if you didn't even know how to ride a broom?

Lily touched down lightly on the ground and hopped off. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, the lap having served as a good warm-up. The others who had also survived landed beside her. Frank nodded approvingly.

"Good, good. You lot have managed to successfully assure me that you won't be falling off your broom before the game's even started. Now this is where it gets harder. Get into pairs."

Lily glanced around for someone to partner with. She caught the eye of a fifth-year boy, who shrugged and moved to stand by her. "Stan," he introduced himself.

"Lily."

"This bit is going to test your hand-eye coordination – that is, your basic ability to catch a ball – and also how well you think about and execute split-second manoeuvres. In the game you'll have to do things before they even enter your head, so you must be prepared to fly everywhere at all times. I'm going to be giving each pair a Quaffle. One of you will throw to the other and count how long it takes for the catcher to fumble. Then you swap. At the end the best people from each pair will be matched against each other. Is that clear?"

There were mumbles of assent. Lily easily caught the big red ball Frank tossed at her. "Here," she said to Stan. "Do you want to catch first, or shall I?"

"I'll do it," he volunteered. She nodded and held onto the ball as they rose into the air. All around the pitch partners were beginning to throw, darting in every direction to catch. She saw the avid expressions on most of the spectators' faces and her nerves returned in a rush.

"Three, two, one, go!" Lily said. She drew her arm back and threw, deliberately aiming in such a way that Stan would have to dive low to catch. He raced after it and successfully grabbed it. When he returned the Quaffle to her, Lily threw randomly again.

It continued like this for several minutes, Lily counting time on her watch. Stan was good but she knew beyond a doubt she could be better. Her eye ran critically down him. He sat too far forward, needed to bend his back further to decrease air resistance, braked too hard…

The movement had become so automatic that Lily blinked in surprise when Stan came back slowly, Quaffle in hand.

"I dropped it," he said in response to her questioning look. "It's your turn now. How long did I last?"

She consulted her watch. "Two minutes and five seconds," she said. "Well done, you were really good!"

Stan nodded briefly. "Thanks." Without any warning he threw the Quaffle, and Lily veered sharply to the right to catch it. She lobbed it back, only for it to be thrown again.

Lily quickly lost any shyness or extraneous thoughts that might have been floating around in her head. It was demanding, and she had to focus on the tiny tensing of Stan's arm muscles that gave away which direction he would choose next. Then she would fly wildly after it. Nine times out of ten her fingers only barely grazed the surface of the ball before she put on a burst of speed and wrapped them round it.

And she was loving it.

She loved the exhilaration that ran fiercely through her when she made a particularly daring catch, the way her heart beat furiously and her blood sang. For the first time she considered how people like her cousin and Potter felt when they were up here. No wonder they – Potter especially – were hailed as Quidditch heroes.

Thinking of Potter made her turn instinctively to see him. He was watching her and her alone, but she stopped dead at the expression on his face. What on earth was it? She couldn't read it. Some violent combination of shock, anger, awe, and pride was making his eyes flame in the twilit darkness.

She swallowed. The Quaffle slipped straight through her fingers.

Lily hissed, cursing her momentary lack of concentration, knowing it was too late. She was out. Now she finally allowed herself to relax and take in her surroundings.

Her jaw dropped.

Every eye in the stadium was fixed on her. The people in the stands, her fellow candidates on the ground – they all stared at her. After a moment she realised why. Apart from Stan, she was the only person still on a broomstick.

Everyone else was on the ground.

In a self-conscious daze, she flew closer to Stan. "How long?" she asked quietly.

"Seven minutes and forty-six seconds," he replied in the same tone. Lily's fingers clamped down hard on the broom. She had been up here for over seven minutes?

She descended quickly and almost tripped in her haste as she got off. Frank had been staring at her open-mouthed, but he shook himself and cleared his throat.

"How… how long did you last for?"

"Seven forty-six," Lily replied in a near-whisper. The people around her sucked in sharp breaths.

Most of Lily was dying of embarrassment, painfully aware that they were all looking at her in astonished disbelief. But there was a tiny part of her that belonged to the Blacks and revelled in the attention. She usually kept this part on the tightest of leashes, knowing just how sadistic it could be, but at times her control waned.

Now was one of them.

Because that part also lent her confidence, and she straightened her spine and returned the stares haughtily. Her family had arrogance down to an art form. She had never been gladder of that fact.

"Moving on," Frank said, although his voice was still a bit hoarse. "The person who lasted the longest from each pair will go onto the next round. The losers can leave."

Stan nodded at Lily and joined the exodus of people from the pitch. There were about ten people left now. Her nervousness was long gone as she examined her opponents.

Six of them were boys, one a huge hulk of muscles and one wiry-thin. The other boys were somewhere in between. None looked particularly special. Then there were three other girls, apart from herself. She recognised two of them. Jamie Spinnet and Claudia Wilson were both in her year, and she was friendly with them.

"This is the last round," Frank said. "Get into pairs, and then the person with the best previous time out of the two of you will be throw while the other is Keeper."

Jamie made a beeline for Lily and smiled at her. "Hey, Lily! Congratulations on the catching. You did really well!"

Lily smiled back. "Thank you. So, I suppose I'm thrower then?"

Jamie nodded vigorously. "Definitely!"

Amused at her partner's boundless enthusiasm, Lily soared into the air with the Quaffle tucked under her arm. She selected a hoop. Jamie moved to hover in front of it.

Frank's whistle blew, indicating the start of the round, and Lily launched the ball forward. It skimmed Jamie's fingers before she managed to catch it. Lily's eyes narrowed as she realised that this time, simple throwing tactics would not work; she had to try something else.

She backed up, then barrelled toward the hoop, braking abruptly three centimetres from Jamie's nose and flinging out the Quaffle. Jamie shrieked and flinched reflexively. The Quaffle spun through the goal.

It was pure luck that Jamie had picked her, Lily admitted. The girl might have had a better catching time than her previous partner but she either fumbled easy goals or saved astoundingly brilliantly. The problem with her was that her pattern was too erratic. She might be able to save unexpectedly well, but at other times she dropped the Quaffle in unnecessary ways.

Still, she put up a good fight, and Lily found that her opinion of Jamie Spinnet had increased tremendously. When Frank blew the whistle again to signify the end she gave her a rare smile of true approval.

"Alright, the moment of truth," Frank said. His voice was low enough that those in the stands would not be able to hear. "Firth, come tell me how many got past you."

The boy who had been Keeper in his pair went to murmur a number lowly in the Quidditch Captain's ear. This went on until it was Jamie's turn to tell him how many goals Lily had scored.

Lily suddenly felt a return of her butterflies as she watched Jamie walk – almost in slow-motion – towards him. She held her breath.

Please let me the best, please let me the best...

It all depended on this, she knew. She had to have more goals than anyone else in the given time or she wouldn't be Seeker.

She had to be Seeker. It had turned personal, this Quidditch thing. Now she wasn't just doing it for Potter or McGonagall; she wanted to know for herself that she was good enough to get in. The great stadium had suddenly turned airless around her. It felt as though she hadn't breathed for several minutes, when in fact it could have been no longer than a few seconds.

Jamie hurried away from Frank and he cleared his throat.

"The person with the best scores, and the Gryffindor Quidditch Team's new Seeker, is Delilah Black!"

The world stopped.

Then it exploded, and Lily could hear Marlene and Arabella screaming incoherently from somewhere in the stands. Jamie squealed, "Oh, well done!"

"I told you that you could do it," Frank said, smiling warmly at Lily, just before a deluge of people swept down on her.

First were her friends, hugging her tightly with massive grins. Then it seemed that every single Gryffindor who had been spectators swamped her with congratulations. She knew they were just pleased that their House had a Seeker again and could potentially win the next match. She knew it, but she still allowed herself to get caught up in the wild happiness that wasn't really about her. Even a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs clapped her on the back as they passed.

"Party in the common room, now!" Marlene roared in Lily's ear. "Will, you're in charge of drinks!"

It was like an after-game party. Lily wondered how much bigger the celebrations would be if, against all odds, Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup that year and took out their main rivals, the Slytherins. The thought of them caused her to twist her neck and search them out in the crowd.

They walked in a close-knit group, the Marauders at the front. The mass of people seemed to split for them as they passed, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Lily looked directly into James Potter's eyes and smiled, her lips curled up in triumph.

To her surprise, he wasn't scowling. He flashed her back his own glorious grin, sharp and wicked and just a little bit dark. She goggled at it. Why was he so happy?

He had floored her, but she had to regain the upper hand. "So, Potter," she called. "I bet you're glad I didn't take you up on your bet now, aren't you?"

His grin widened, showing the edges of his white teeth. "Don't think you're in the clear yet, Lily-my-lily. You have your first match against Hufflepuff next week. Let's see how well you do then."

"Well done, Lily," Sirius said quietly. Surprised, she switched her glance to him. He was looking at her with an unreadable expression. She nodded in acknowledgement of his words.

"Make sure you live up to the family name," he said. "I'd hate for you to break the great Quidditch skills streak we have, as well as the all-Slytherin one."

Before she could answer – not that she could think of anything to say – he turned and was gone, melting into the crowd with Potter on his tail.

Finally Lily shook herself. There was a party, ostensibly in her honour, being held in the Gryffindor common room, though she knew her House leapt at any chance to throw a celebration with drinks and dancing. Before she went in, she tilted her head back to look up at the sky.

It was a full moon tonight.

AN: Morning, everyone!

Shruthi/Nerd/anyone else wondering what'll happen on the Frank/Alice/Marlene front: well, the main reason I had to change Alice to Marlene is because Alice Longbottom is canonically a pureblood, and I needed a half-blood for plot purposes (which is more plausible in Marlene's case). Also, her surname is known to actually be McKinnon, whereas we don't know Alice's. The Frank situation will resolve itself eventually, don't worry.

I'll be back this evening! In the meantime, enjoy and review.