CHAPTER 23
The Final Game
"And Professor June warned you if you told?" Remus asked, sticking his fork into his potato.
"No, he didn't warn me," Sirius said. "He threatened me. He knows about you."
"You think he's a werewolf, too?" James said, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice.
"Possibly," Remus said. "Well, I've never really met another one, you know. But he may be. They must put him somewhere other than my Shack, though, because there hasn't been anyone in there except for me. Unless he's come up with some sort of cure or something that he isn't sharing with the rest of us werewolves."
"Wouldn't be too hopeful, Remus," Sirius said. "I think that he'd be making a fortune if he had done something like that."
"Speaking of that shack," James said, "did you hear what the Hogsmeade villagers were calling it?"
"No, what?" Sirius asked.
"The 'Shrieking Shack,'" James laughed. "They say it's haunted by very violent spirits." He gave a look to Remus. "Oh, yeah. You look very violent."
"You just wait a few more days," he said grimly, and went back to the potato.
"But what about June?" Sirius said again. "I mean, he strikes me as the type, doesn't he?"
"Dumbledore wouldn't have hired a werewolf for a teacher," James said.
"He enrolled me, didn't he?" Remus said.
"Yeah, but there's a difference."
"Hey guys!"
They all turned to look at Peter, who was running full speed towards them, holding a paper.
"Guys, look at this," he panted, slamming the paper in front of them. "It says there was a massive Muggle killing last night!" He pointed at a picture of at least twenties bodies hovering in the air, with fire and smoke underneath them. "There was one survivor. He said that-"
"We can read for ourselves, thanks," Sirius said. Hetook the paper from Peter and scanned the article. "It says that the man was spared. He reports that one man in a mask left him alive to relay this message to authorities."
"What's the message?"
"I'm getting to that," Sirius snapped. "He said that they told him to 'Beware the Dark Lord, for he will not rest until his name is feared.'"
"This guy's a real piece of work, ain't he?" Peter said, smiling. But the other three weren't.
"Where did it happen?" James asked.
"Doesn't say," Sirius said, flipping the page. "Hey, look. Ministry official Bartemius Crouch gives Aurors the right to slay any Death Eater without questioning."
"Finally, they're finding that it's serious," Remus said. "Now maybe the killings will stop."
"I wouldn't bet on it," Sirius said. "I've grown up with these sorts of people. I know what they're capable of. They don't give up easily without a fight."
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The Quidditch final was to take place the first Saturday in April. It would be between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Slytherin was sort of sore about not making it to the game, and a sandy haired boy by the name of Nott had begun to pass around papers that read "Support the Snake!"
"Support the Snake!" he shouted as he walked up and down the Slytherin table the morning before the game. "Boycott the final! Support the Snake! Don't go to the final!"
"It's their own ruddy fault that they didn't get to the Championship," James said. "If they had had any sort of team this year-"
"Are you going to eat that?" Sirius grabbed James' apple and bit into it.
"Well, it's for the best if they don't come," James said. "That way they won't be trying to hex us on our brooms or something."
But nerves were still running, and the entire team was of high emotions as they congregated for the final game of the year.
"Now this is the final match for many of us here," Dennis said, pacing the length of the tent. The team was sitting on a bench making last minute adjustments to their gear and uniform. "We will miss Bertha very much next year, and hope that we can replace her with someone that comes close to her talent. Bertha, I haven't seen a girl fly like you since the game between the Cannons and the Wasps in '72, when Darsing-"
"Dennis, please, get on with it," Graham snapped.
"Oh, right, right," Dennis said. "Anyway, have a good game, and please --- please --- win. Remember, all passes go straight to James so he can work his magic out there. And Graham, don't pout every time someone doesn't hand it to you. I haven't seen someone so sour over a Quaffle since Bagman took his loss in '68. Now all of you --- get out there and play your best. And remember, make Jorkins' time here a great memory."
The seven of them filed onto the pitch and mounted their brooms as Davey read off their names.
"And now, the Ravenclaw team. Keeper Scarlet Little, Chasers Webster Sartans, Lorane Podges, and newcomer Eli Dollings, Seeker Benjamin Mullroony, and Beaters Wirrington and Warley. And it looks like the teams are pretty evenly matched, in both size and smarts. Unlike the match against a certain House which I favor myself, and another that were too stupid enough to find the Quidditch field today-"
"Gudgeon!" Professor McGonagall was censoring him yet again.
"And here's the first Quaffle, thrown into the air," Davey continued. "Potter takes control of it, and scores! Ten to nothing, Gryffindor! Looks like Dung'll be paying up after all. Thanks, James!"
James smiled and went back to the center. There, the Quaffle was given to him again, and he sped towards the goalpost.
"Twenty to zilch, Gryffindor! No thanks to Graham or Berster. It looks like even the Ravenclaw team is no match for Potter either. And Potter gets control of the ball again, and it's in the air, and- WAIT! LOOK OUT!"
James felt a hard body slam him off course, and one of the Ravenclaw Chasers grabbed the ball from him.
"HEY! SARTANS! THAT'S CHEATING YOU PIECE OF-"
"DAVEY GUDGEON! IF I HAVE TO WARN YOU ONE MORE TIME!"
"And still, the referee, who must have gone blind-"
"GUDGEON!"
"Because, of course, that wasn't an illegal steal of the ball, and Ravenclaw team is perfect in every way, and the referee has a reason for not calling a foul on that pass-"
"Give me the microphone, Gudgeon-"
Davey jumped up and ran a few bleachers, dancing out of the extended arms of the furious Professor.
"And it's twenty to ten, Gryffindor!" Davey continued. "Potter should have had that one, shouldn't he? Because Potter is going to put his good friend in debt-"
James looked, awed, at the Chaser who had beaten him. Webster Sartans was smiling, showing all of his teeth to the swooning Ravenclaw girls in the crowd.
"Guess you still are a rookie, Potter," he chortled as he flew off to the center of the field.
"And Sartans has the ball!" Davey said, still running from a very angry Professor McGonagall. "He shoots off towards the Gryffindor goals, and Dashings isn't watching. This could be another score if Dashings doesn't look up --- Dashings is asleep over there --- and Potter intercepts the ball! I've never seen anyone intercept Sartan before, have you Professor?"
"Gudgeon, I warned you. Now hand over the microphone."
"And he passes it to Berster, who passes it to Potter --- and oh! --- that was illegal! That was wrong! That wasn't right! Wirrington hits it to Berster's torso, and he's fallen. He's on the ground."
James looked back as he flew to the goalpost at top speed. Dennis was lying on the ground, holding his stomach and screaming with pain. Wirrington was looking sort of shocked at what he had just done. James listened closer to Dennis as his screaming got louder.
"WOW! I HAVEN'T SEEN A BLUDGER BLOW LIKE THAT SINCE THE GAME IN '68!"
"And Potter takes the ball and shoots --- he scores!" Davey sat back down in his chair, the Professor tired of pursuing him. "And it is thirty to ten, Gryffindor! And I believe that Jorkins has spotted something. Yes, she has --- and she's diving for it --- this could be the end of the season --- and of Jorkins' career. I asked her what she was going to do upon leaving school, and she answered me, 'Ministry work.' Now, I ask you, if you could play like that and look that good, would you be going into the Ministry? I know that I certainly wouldn't-"
"Mr. Gudgeon, we don't need a biography on our players."
"Right, Professor, right. And she is still in her dive --- she's pulling out of it --- does she have the Snitch? She does! She does!"
James looked at Bertha, who was holding the Snitch high above her head and kicking the air with her feet. Berster was trying to get out of the clutches of Darsing and head back onto the field with the rest of his team. But Darsing wouldn't let him go.
James landed next to Dashings and Graham, and ran over to Greasings and Grudgins that were now congratulating each other on a superb game.
"AND GRYFFINDOR WINS THE CUP, ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY TO TEN!" Davey exploded. "GRYFFINDOR HAS WON THE CUP!"
It was the greatest moment of James's life, and he was lifted into the air with Jorkins as the crowd shouted their names for all to hear.