Quidditch and Detentions

Some twelve hours later, in the afternoon of the following day, the long-awaited, much anticipated first Quidditch match of the season was finally taking place. Gryffindor was playing Ravenclaw, and, for the first time in years, Gryffindor had a Seeker that matched the speedy though powerfully built fifth-year who filled the position for Ravenclaw, a boy named Vitali Nemec. Minerva had specially chosen James Potter for the team, because he was skinny and obviously talented. She had, of course, seen him fly and was confident that, despite his youth, he would make an impressive Quidditch player. Today was the perfect day for him to show his abilities. The sky was blue, there was no wind whatsoever, and, as usual, the whole school was assembled in the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch, wearing red and blue scarves, lion flags and raven banners. Everyone seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves.

Minerva took her usual place at the teachers' stand next to the pallid, red-haired Ravenclaw who had been asked to do the commentary. Minerva was not too fond of her, but they had not found anyone else willing to do the job, as most people were afraid of making a fool of themselves and not being able to live up to the excellence of the previous year's commentary, held by none other than the inimitable Kingsley Shacklebolt. Minerva shook her head to drive that memory out. Getting an unbiased commentary from Shacklebolt had required every bit of strength each time and still been practically impossible. At least, Minerva was surprised to find herself think, he had been favouring Gryffindor. And his commentary, at any rate, had never been boring.

'Ravenclaw in possession. Perks, Brown, Perks again, loss to Gryffindor. Samantha Gershwin flying towards the Ravenclaw goal keeper Bram Figg. Will she score? No. Figg's too quick for her.'

Minerva's thoughts wandered. Her sixth years needed some practical lessons again. Some of them would soon want to do their apparating license. She'd have to give them some time for preparation. Most of her first years were still not able to turn a needle back into a match. The Gryffindors, anyway. And some of the Slytherins. She sighed. It was so much easier with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. She wondered whether the situation had been quite the same at the times of the Hogwarts founders. Whether the trouble-makers had always sprung from old Godric's and Salazar's house. And never from the other two.

'IT IS THE SNITCH! HE'S GOT THE SNITCH!'

Minerva woke from her daydreams and looked down at the Quidditch pitch where James Potter was zooming about, his hand clutched tightly around the struggling golden Snitch. Gryffindor had won the match.

It was hard to fight your way through to the game's champion, but when Minerva had finally succeeded in parting the cheering crowd of students and banners and reached its centre, this year's seeker met her gaze with a broad grin.

'Well done, Potter,' she said, unable to keep herself from smiling broadly, triumphantly. 'I must say this looks very promising, indeed.'

'He's in,' the team captain Gilligan Shacklebolt said enthusiastically. 'There is no doubt about that. I knew he could win us the match!'

'Ye're a natural on that broom of yours,' Minerva told James approvingly. 'What is it?'

'A Nimbus,' Potter replied promptly. 'A birthday gift from my father. Smashing broom I can tell y-'

At that moment, a broad, muscular arm snatched the boy from behind and dragged him off his feet in wild enthusiasm. Minerva took a surprised step backwards.

'You did it!' Sirius Black's voice appeared from under the huge bunch of cloaks that was now towering in front of Minerva's feet. 'You're a bloody genius. I new you could do it. The commentary was crap, though. Dead boring. I'll ask if they let me do it - oh, hello, Professor.'

It was only now he spotted Minerva standing near by, pulling back his long fringe and scrambling to his feet again, wearing a broad grin on his handsome face. Once again, Minerva felt herself being unable to fight back an appreciative smile at the two of them.

'Well, Black,' she said in mock severity at last, 'I'll have you do the next commentary then. It will be Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff in a month's time.'

The boy's face was glowing with pride.

'Yes, Professor. Thank you, Professor. I promise I'll get them hooked. Not like boring old Chris today. I'll do the thing properly.'

'Speaking of doing things properly,' James suddenly said, 'what have you done to your nose and your hands?' Sirius blushed.

'I'll tell you later,' he muttered from the corner of his mouth and Minerva noticed that he was glancing nervously towards a small group of Slytherins standing around the Ravenclaw Seeker, expressing their sympathy on the top of their voices. Among them was Lucius Malfoy. Minerva remembered having been forced to put him in detention once or twice, but apart from that - an inconspicuous child. Young man, more like, as he was one of the sixth years about to do get licensed for national apparating. He was certainly one of her more talented students, Minerva decided as an afterthought.

When she was pushed aside by a few over-enthusiastic Gryffindors, her attention was drawn back to reality. Potter and Black had left the crowd and were heading towards the lake, closely followed by two other students Minerva identified as their roommates Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

'Those four certainly have a very unusual friendship,' she suddenly caught herself thinking, 'but also the most intriguing one I have seen in years. And young Lupin does enjoy being part of a group for a change.'

Feeling thoroughly blissful now, she made her way back to the castle where, hopefully, a delicious Hallowe'en dinner was waiting to be consumed.


The mood of the game carried them through the following five or six days. James was celebrated as the new Gryffindor champion wherever he went these days and, of course, most people had heard about Sirius' promotion as the next Quidditch commentator. There were choruses in the corridors of 'Jamesy Pot, Quidditch god' and 'Potter for president' wherever they went. Sirius had begun to decorate the Gryffindor common room with moving images of James's head, but the Prefects had put a stop to that, so he had started handing them out in the corridors instead, on their way to classes and during the lunch break. It was six days after the match, when their high mood was suddenly disrupted by an unexpected incident. An unexpected person, in fact, though unpleasantly familiar to all of them.

They had been passing a group of Slytherins on their way to lunch in the Great Hall who had given their usual opinion on Sirius's handouts ('Yeah, we'd like some of those - the dungeons've run out of toilet paper!') when, a little behind his house mates, Severus Snape came round a corner. His nose was still swollen from the fight he and Sirius had had around the time James had made his spectacular catch, and he moved to the other side of the corridor as soon as he spotted the four Gryffindors coming towards him.

'Oy,' Sirius shouted, feeling rather good-humoured and in the mood of being offensive, 'want one of these, Sniffo? Bet you could use an idea of how a real winner looks!'

Snape shot him a foul look. 'Keep it. You can nail it to your bedroom wall as a commemoration when the real thing bursts, which is undoubtedly about to happen.'

'And what is that supposed to mean?' Sirius hissed, his hand moving towards the handle of his wand, realising he had been waiting for an opportunity to get back on Snape ever since the incident during the match.

Something seemed to go 'click' in Snape's head and he had pulled his own wand before Sirius had realised he was actually prepared to fight.

'Stupefy!'

Sirius fell back to the floor, to the surprise of the gathering students, unable to move or to speak. Within seconds James seized his own wand and was pointing it at Snape, who seemed thoroughly astounded that he had not been the first to hit the floor for a change.

'Petrificus Totalus!' James yelled, causing the greasy-haired Slytherin's limbs to snap against his body, making him fall flat on his back. James, however, did not stop here. He raised his wand a second time, now seething with fury.

'MR. POTTER!'

James whirled around, pocketing his wand within a second. But too late. He stood face to face with Professor McGonagall, who seemed not furious, but beyond reason.

'HOW DARE YOU PETRIFY YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS?' she bellowed, releasing Snape and Sirius with a wave of her wand. 'I EXPECTED BETTER OF YOU!'

James and Sirius leapt into wild explanations at once while Snape let his wand disappear under his wide, black robes and made to leave the unpleasant scene. But this was not what McGonagall seemed to think.

'Exactly where do you think you're going, Mr. Snape?' she snapped. 'Don't you think I haven't observed the whole scene. You were the first to cast a spell, laddie. Detention to all three of you! Tonight. Give me your wands!'

'Now really, Professor, you can't-' Sirius began to protest, but McGonagall silenced him with a glance.

'I do not think it safe for you three to run around with your wands this afternoon, being in the heated mood you are. They will be restored to you after detention this evening. I know that means you will miss Quidditch practice, Potter, don't look at me like that. Eight o'clock sharp, all three of you.'

And with this she turned and stalked away, leaving James and Sirius in a very foul mood indeed.

'He'll pay for that one,' Sirius muttered under his breath, carefully looking around for eavesdroppers. 'Detention and our free afternoon without wands - that can't go unavenged.'

'We'll think of something later,' James replied, feeling exactly the same way as Sirius did. 'I don't want to get into any more trouble. Especially not when I should be practising Quidditch in the evenings.'

Sirius nodded. 'I just hope she doesn't make us write lines again.'


It was five past eight when Sirius knocked on the door of Professor McGonagall's office on the third floor and he was not surprised to find that it flung open at once, granting him a look at a small, empty desk, surrounded by a few bookshelves and various chandeliers before he entered. McGonagall was standing beside the window, handing out blank pieces of parchment to his friend James and to Snape, who looked thoroughly unhappy at the given situation. Had he missed the crucial part or were they really going to write lines again tonight? McGonagall looked up as he entered and frowned.

'You are late, Black.'

'I met Mr. Filch and he insisted I tell him exactly where I was going and when I would return,' Sirius said, having met a couple of girls on the second floor and stopped for a quick chat, 'I'm sorry, Professor.'

The black-haired witch nodded. 'Very well, then. Come here and get your spare bit of parchment. You will do lines.'

'Again?' Sirius grumbled. 'I wonder if the forest has run out of wild animals.'

'Professor Dumbledore and I have decided,' McGonagall said sharply, 'that sending you and Mr. Potter into the Forbidden Forest does not seem to be much of a punishment. Thus the lines. And you will do nothing else until I return in about two hours time.'

'You'll leave?' winced Snape. Sirius shot him a contemptuous look.

'I have more important matters to attend to than watching you three do your detention,' Professor McGonagall replied, 'but I shall be back soon. And if I do not get three feet at least of I must not fight in the corridors from each of ye, I shall be... severely displeased.'

Snape gulped. Sirius grinned at James, who winked. McGonagall, on the other hand, turned swiftly and made to leave her office.

'Please, Professor...' Snape made a last, pitiful effort of keeping her from leaving, shooting James and Sirius, the latter noted with a frown, an insecure, almost awkward-looking glance. 'I'd really like to do this somewhere else. B-by myself if possible.'

McGonagall turned on the spot. To the three students' surprise she was now rigid with fury.

'You three will learn how to put up with each other!' she barked. 'You seem to feel that curses are the only way of dealing with your dislike for each other. I want you to learn how to communicate like normal people. You will sit here,' she pointed at the empty table in front of her, 'and do your work quietly until I return. Yes, Mr. Snape, there is a lot of space for three people at that bench. Sit down, now. Potter, over here. Black, you'll take this side. And you will sit in the middle, Mr. Snape!' She was positively frightening now, so all three of them did as they were told and began to fiercely write their lines. Sirius glanced up briefly when McGonagall slammed the door behind herself, but he remained quiet, fearing she might wait and listen how they got on. No one said anything for almost an hour, until James slammed down his quill and leaned back on his side of the bench.

'Finished.'

Sirius gave him a surprised look and stared at his friend's parchment, where exactly three feet of lines said in a very untidy scrawl, 'I must not fight in the corridors'.

'How many did you write?' he asked.

'Two hundred and seventy-six,' James replied casually and held up his paper. 'Come on, hurry up so we can go and get some food from the kitchen before it's dark.'

'We are not supposed to leave, remember?' said Sirius gloomily, 'She'll flay us alive if we do. We're here to learn how to keep up with this one.' He threw a disdainful look at Snape, who had not looked up or, indeed, stopped writing once since the moment McGonagall had left her office. He was squashing one sentence after another on his yellowish piece of parchment and his hair was falling over the lines he had written, making his minuscule writing impossible to read. Sirius gave James a significant look and both leaned over Snape's shoulders as if reading his lines.

'I must not contaminate the corridors,' James muttered, 'I must not start fights. I must not be a complete jerk, though I probably can't help.'

Sirius gave a short laugh. Snape, however, acted as if he had gone temporarily deaf and continued writing. James threw a Sirius a short grin and nodded expectantly. Sirius could not resist.

'I must not fail to wash my hair once a month as a minimum. I must not ignore my classmates. I must not pee into my pants every time I see them anyway.' This was too much for James. He broke into a fit of laughter, collapsing into his part of the bench, accidentally knocking down his three feet of parchment as he did. He dived for his work and caught it shortly before it had reached the floor. Sirius applauded in mock worship.

'And James Potter's back on the pitch again. What would the Chudley Cannons do without him?' James seemed to like the idea of entertaining himself with a bit of Quidditch and pulled out an apple. In immediate understanding, Sirius jumped to his feet.

'Pass the Quaffle!' he claimed, careful not to shout as to prevent Professor McGonagall from returning too soon. 'Come on, Potter, we'll win the match if this one goes in.'

'I am not a chaser,' James replied in a highly dignified manner, throwing the apple towards Sirius nevertheless, who caught it with a yelp of delight.

'Black's got the Quaffel,' he commented, 'passing it to Potter. Black again, Potter, Black and - goooooal! No, sorry. Potter again.'

They were throwing the apple at each other, trying to get to do a spectacular catch. Sirius enjoyed watching James's movements. They had something of an unmatched elegance about them he had only ever seen with professional Quidditch players before.

Ignoring Snape as thoroughly as possible, they managed to attain a fairly excellent mood, considering that they were supposed to be in detention. The game was perfectly exciting. Sirius took the apple and aimed at James's chest. When he tossed it with all his might, however, the apple slipped, smashed against the wall and burst. James pulled a grimace and let out a frustrated curse, causing even Snape to look up briefly from his work. Sirius grinned apologetically.

'I can get you a new one,' he said casually and flung himself down onto the bench next to Snape again, 'but for now, I suppose, we'll just have to wait until old McGonagall returns. Wasting our time with highly inventive leisure time occupations - such as this.' He took out his quill and poked Snape's arm, who jumped and, to Sirius's great surprise, shrunk back in his seat as if mortally afraid of something. Sirius and James both grinned.

'Bit jumpy today, aren't you?' Sirius remarked. 'Being nervous, Snivellus?'

Snape flinched.

'I think he's just scared,' James said, raising an eyebrow, 'look at his fingers.'

Sirius followed James's gaze. Snape's hands were shaking, though Sirius guessed this was not because of fear, but rather a safe sign that Snape was about to lose his unpredictably explosive temper. Sirius felt a jolt of excitement and rose his quill again.

For the first time now, Snape showed a noticeable reaction to their behaviour. His gaze darted towards Sirius's quill and then towards James, who had taken the opportunity to jump into the game and poked Snape's back with his own quill.

'Stop it!' he snarled, baring his yellowish teeth in fury. 'Keep your dirty paws of me.'

Sirius moved his quill forward and gave Snape another little jab.

'Itchy Snapey doesn't like being poked?' he said in mock concern. 'You prefer curses then?'

'I am quicker than you now,' hissed Snape. 'You can't curse me anymore.'

'That depends on the situation, I should say,' James remarked dryly. 'I would be eager to find out how quickly you react in fair conditions, say - the trophy room at midnight?'

'I am not doing nightly duels,' Snape said merely and turned back to his paper. 'They're not allowed. Now shut up and let me finish this.'

'Too bad,' Sirius prompted, 'that it is so difficult for you to fit us into your schedule.' He threw a meaningful look at James and poked Snape's arm again, noticing with delight how much it seemed to frighten him. 'I suppose, we'll just have to keep asking, won't we?'

'STOP POKING, YOU BLASTED FOOL!' Snape yelled. 'Stop it, or I'll... I'll...'

Sirius raised his eyebrows. 'What is it, Snivellus?'

Snape's black eyes narrowed to small slits, but he could not think of a reasonable way to finish his sentence, so, after a while, he went back to his lines.

'Not so cheeky now you haven't got your little wand with you, ey?' said James, having another go at Snape's shoulder. Snape jumped again and tried to cover both his upper arms at the same time. He looked ridiculously awkward. James and Sirius laughed.

'And speaking of cheek,' James continued. 'Next time, I suggest, you shouldn't try on Sirius and Peter all at once. Small though Peter might be - you will never be able to live up to him.'

Sirius laughed and winked at James.

'That's true. Peter could take him single-handedly any time. Didn't look too good after the fight. I'd advise you not to bother us in future, Snivellus. It's for your own good, you know.' He made an emphasis on every word and dug his quill deep and deeper into Snape's black robes, who was still twitching every time he was touched, now trembling all over. James was joining him from the other side, underlining each of his movements with an insult.

'Pathetic. Stupid. Filthy. Ugly. Dees-guus-ting.'

Snape did not reply. He had pressed his lips together and was staring at his paper, but his hands were shaking and small drops were dripping onto the parchment, coming from somewhere under his greasy curtains of black hair. Sirius noticed it with some amusement.

'You're such a Moke, Snape,' he said softly. 'An embarrassment to the wizarding world. Or,' he grinned and resumed his poking, 'you're just extremely nervous. I advise you to go and see a doctor about this.'

Snape produced what sounded like a suppressed sob. Sirius leaned back and threw a meaningful look at James. This was boring. A snivelling Snape was not half as entertaining as a raging one. James nodded and yawned.

'Go on, Siri, finish your lines. You've got another few inches to fill, it seems.'

'Oh, right,' said Sirius, looking down at his parchment with a displeased frown, and, after a moment of disgusted hesitation, began to write again,

I must not fight in the corridors.

I must not fight in the corridors.

I must not fight in the corridors.

The room went quiet again.

A couple of minutes later, the door opened and Professor McGonagall returned to her sanctuary. Two diligent Gryffindor looks met her stern gaze, whereas Snape continued scribbling vividly without looking up once. McGonagall decided on giving James and Sirius a rare smile.

'I am delighted tae see that you did not kill each other,' she said approvingly, handing them back their wands. 'Mr. Snape, ye can stop noo. We'll leave it here for today.'

Snape obediently packed away his quill, determinedly avoiding Professor McGonagall's gaze. She looked slightly taken aback, obviously taking his behaviour as a sign of reproach.

'Noo, don't be ridiculous, boy,' she said tartly. 'You can't be upset about a mere detention? Go on, look at me, or I won't be able to sleep comfortably tonight.'

With some effort, Snape brought himself to raise his head. Sirius noticed that his face was still glowing with tears of humiliation and anger. Unsurprisingly, Professor McGonagall made the same discovery. She frowned.

'Have there been any... problems?'

Snape hurried to shake his head. Sirius knew that he would have swallowed his tongue before admitting that a couple of insults had made him crack down and cry.

'Trust the Slytherin pride to keep you safe,' he thought, giving James a triumphant smile. His friend grinned and winked.

'You two are dismissed,' Professor McGonagall told them. 'Go to your dormitories. Now.'

James did not hesitate. Sirius, however, approached the doorstep on a snail's pace and threw a last glance back before he finally reached it. McGonagall was bending down so that her face was now level with Snape's sallow face.

'Ye cannae have a couple of lines get ye doon like that,' she said quietly. 'There is no need to - oh no. Not again. Stop it! As I was saying - there is absolutely no need tae cry.'

Sirius struggled not to throw in a comment, remembering that he had been told to leave, and quietly shut the door behind him. He gave his waiting friend a broad smile and they made their way up to Gryffindor, exactly as had been told.


Author's Note: I am a little behind with all my work, so the next update may take a while. I know, I know, I am not updating as often as I should anyway, but at the moment time is my greatest enemy and I need to consider thoroughly what to put into this part of the Oddball series, as it is a bit like CoS: most hints and important things for later events will be found in here. Thanks for your interest and patience, though. I greatly appreciate whatever questions and (intentional or unintentional) ideas you give me in reviews. ;)

Oh, and: Silverthreads, I promise the odds will meet at some point. lol But I can understand if, at present, some things are still mightily confusing. There is a lot of plots that I'll have to tie in the end (which I intend to do), and the different perspectives really don't make things less confusing. Thus, so much Minerva at the moment. But I'll try and have this make sense in the end. Think I am yet to fail in that. ;)