A/N: here it is, the final day of the Harry Potter Festival, well, most of it, and the long awaited Quidditch match. This is the longest chapter I've ever written, almost 5,000 words, and I've passed 25,000 words (yay!). Please give me some feedback, I found the Quidditch really difficult to write. You don't know how close I came to having the snitch caught in 5 seconds. Wouldn't you all have hated me for that?
The next morning, James took his place in the teacher's box of the Quidditch stands for Ron Weasley's speech. He was surprised to see how many people were here. If there was a speech about him every year (Merlin forbid) then wouldn't they all have heard it already? Why would sixteen year olds who had heard this every year in the Harry Potter festival and again in History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts be awake at ten o'clock on a gloomy October day to hear the story again? Hermione Weasley was on one side of him and, exactly as Ron stepped into the centre of the pitch, Severus slid onto the end of the bench next to him.
Ron was looking smart and perfectly groomed for once, but he was looking rather uncomfortable with the setting. Maybe it was the fact that there was complete silence despite the two thousand odd people watching him. At last he pointed his wand at himself and cast a Sonorus charm. Then, looking nervously around, he began.
"Well, uh good morning everyone," he began, shuffling slightly in place.
"Calm down Ron," Hermione muttered quietly. "You'll be fine."
"For those of you who don't know me, I'm Ron Weasley and I was at school with Harry. Oh, and for anyone who has somehow missed the point of why they're here, I'm going to be talking about Harry Potter as I knew him. That's not the 'Boy Who Lived', not the 'Heir of Slytherin', the 'Triwizard Champion' or the 'Boy Who Killed Voldemort' but Harry, Just Harry, as he said once. The thing is, you've all read the history books and newspapers, some of you will have seen him from a distance, but none of you really knew him, I don't even claim to have myself.
"A couple of days ago, I went down to the lake to think about what I was going to tell you. I went to a place that Harry liked, I won't say exactly where, and I found James Evans there, the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor here at Hogwarts. He didn't attend Hogwarts, and he's a bit younger than us anyway, so he didn't know Harry at all. I introduced myself and told him what I was trying to do. He thought for a moment, then asked me what Harry would have thought about all of this.
"That got me thinking. What would he have thought about it? I'm positive he'd have hated the fact that it's mostly being held on the Quidditch Pitch. I remember during the Triwizard Tournament, when they grew hedges on the Pitch for the third task, that he treated it like sacrilege. He would have approved of the match this afternoon much more.
"To begin to explain what he would have thought, I have to begin with his life before Hogwarts. Its common knowledge that he lived with his Muggle relatives: his aunt, her husband and his cousin, Dudley, who was the same age as him. I met them once, and I can honestly say that Dudley was a bully who looked like a young whale. Harry once told me he was wider than he was tall, and I'm not even going to contradict that. I've heard my teachers describe them as the 'worst kind of Muggles'. They hated magic and Harry grew up not even knowing it was real. Every time he did accidental magic, and from his account, it was quite often, he was punished. He didn't have a bedroom, he slept in a cupboard under the stairs, he did most of the housework and Dudley beat him up on a regular basis. That didn't come out too well, but essentially, they didn't like him, he hated them and Harry Potter didn't even know he was a wizard until he turned eleven. He was even told that his parents, Lily and James Potter, died in a car crash! A car crash!
"Around Harry's eleventh birthday, he received his Hogwarts letter, or rather, his uncle received his Hogwarts letter and burnt it. The next day, three letters arrived and his relatives started to panic. They boarded up the letter box - that's how Muggles get their mail delivered, someone puts it through a hole in their door - and the letters came down the chimney. At last, his aunt and uncle took him away to a tiny island in the middle of nowhere. This was the night between the 30th and 31st of July - Harry was about to turn eleven and he still didn't know what all the fuss was about. Just after midnight, Hagrid arrived and proceeded to present him with his Hogwarts Letter and explain to him the basics of the wizarding world. The next day, he took Harry to Diagon Alley and Harry got his first taste of fame. He couldn't walk into a shop without people pointing at him, whispering and coming up to shake his hand. He was eleven years old, small for his age and with no prior experience in the wizarding world. To put it plainly, he was uncomfortable and hated it.
"After giving him his Hogwarts ticket and buying him his first ever birthday present, Hagrid put him on a train to his relative's home. He was dropped outside King's Cross Station on the 1st September and left to find the train on his own. Now, any child who had grown up in the wizarding world would have known what to do, and any Muggleborn was always accompanied by a witch or wizard, but Harry was alone. They had assumed, or at least I think they had, that Petunia Dursley, who knew the way because she'd come with Lily, would be able to take him. This was when I first met him. We were heading toward the ticket barrier, my and my family. As you know, there's quite a lot of us - my mum was taking Percy, the twins, me and Ginny and we had school trolleys and an owl and I think Mum might have been talking about Muggles. Anyway, Harry came up to us - remember we didn't know who he was then - and asked us how to get onto the platform. He seemed a bit embarrassed about it all.
"I shared a compartment with him on the way to Hogwarts and found out he was Harry Potter. He wasn't quite what I was expecting. I mean, I'd grown up on stories about how he'd saved the wizarding world and I was only eleven years old. I expected him to be as tall as Fred and George at least and muscular with really nice clothes and everything. I wasn't expecting him to talk to me at all. I certainly didn't expect him to defend me against Draco Malfoy, who, in those days, was an arrogant little snob, though I'll admit he grew out of it.
"Harry spent most of his time at school trying to do two things. The first was forget that he was anyone special and act like a normal kid. That might have been why he liked Quidditch so much - his father played it and he was good at it, he wasn't on the team because he was Harry Potter. The second was saving the school from any monsters, Death Eaters etc that came along. As a hero, he took his responsibilities very seriously."
James listened as Ron continued talking them through their years at Hogwarts. He was surprised that his friend had known quite so much about his home life, and a little irritated that he was telling everyone. Still, since Ron thought he was dead, it didn't really matter. He was quite pleased about how the speech was going actually, it wasn't making him out to be a superhero at all, just a normal teenager with a few extra responsibilities. Hermione seemed to be impressed as well. James would have been very interested to hear what she'd had to say about him. She seemed to feel him watching her, since she turned and looked at him. He smiled slightly and she relaxed. Severus, on the other hand, was looking a bit surprised at some of the revelations Ron was giving him. Harry was not and had never been his father, he had never been spoilt, he had never had a perfect home life. It was a lot to take in.
When Ron finished summing up his life story, he his face became serious.
"Harry fought and gave his life to kill Voldemort, to help prevent the rise of Dark Wizards. Many of his Death Eaters are in Azkaban or dead, but some, like Lucius Malfoy, are still alive and free, if in hiding. It is the nature of Dark wizards to attempt to take over the world. Think about it - Voldemort rose twice, before him Grindewald, before him countless others. Yes we won one fight in the battle, but we can't become too complacent and lose the next. Lucius Malfoy is a threat that Harry would want us to defeat. So, to end this speech on a serious note, I'm going to quote one of my father's old friends who helped to train me and Harry, Alastor Moody. Mad-Eye told us 'constant vigilance'. We should remember that."
There was a long pause while people digested this unexpected warning. Then, slowly but surely, applause began and swelled until practically the entire audience was giving him a true standing ovation. Ron cast 'quietus' on himself and bowed smartly to each of the four 'sides' of the Quidditch pitch. Then he marched off through the Gryffindor changing rooms.
People began to pick up their cloaks and move towards the staircases down to ground level.
"Please, congratulate your husband, Mrs Weasley," James said formally to Hermione, aware of the teachers around them. "It was an … enlightening . . . talk. The ending in particular was extremely relevant to the current situation. I was glad to be of help to him."
"I'll tell him you said so. But I thought I told you to call me Hermione?"
"Sorry, it didn't seem appropriate, given the situation," James said, glancing around. Her eyes flashed with understanding as she nodded.
"I'll see you for the Quidditch match this afternoon then, unless you're eating in the Great Hall?"
"No, I'm eating with the players, as you no doubt already knew. Since no one knows their identity, I'm attempting to keep it that way. I wouldn't want to disrupt the staff betting pool."
"A staff betting pool? I'd never have guessed," she said, sounding horrified. Then she grinned, "So, what are the current odds?"
"Well, since Rolanda's team ha-"
"Rolanda?"
"Madam Hooch. Since they've won every year as long as anyone can remember, general opinion is that they'll win again."
"And your opinion?"
"I haven't actually seen her team play, she's been as careful about that as I have, but I would say that her unbroken record isn't likely to stay unbroken for long. However, this may be simple vanity on my part, so I wouldn't advise you to take me too seriously. All the players are ones I know and know each other, so we stand a chance."
"Is it who I'm thinking?"
"Probably, with a few changes."
"Hm, do they let outsiders place bets?"
"I'm afraid I don't know. Severus?" he asked, catching the man's attention. "You run the betting pool with Minerva, don't you?"
"Yes," he admitted cautiously.
"Hermione was wondering if she could place a bet."
"Very well, current odds are 10 to 3 against the veteran team."
"Ten galleons on the veterans - someone has to support James."
"Very well," Severus said, tucking the galleons into a pocket of his robes and making a not on a piece of parchment."
"Out of interest, has anyone else bet on James' team?"
"Minerva and myself have, and I believe a few of the others have placed security bets of one galleon apiece."
"Interesting."
"If you have a minute, I could give you the full details."
"Thank you sir. Well, I'll see you later James," Hermione said and vanished down the stairway with the Potions Master.
At two thirty that afternoon, James had just finished going over the strategy with the team and was about to leave for the teachers' box from which he would watch the game. Before he left, he looked at his team, dressed in white and silver robes, and gave them the start of match speech that he remembered so well.
"Sorry to usurp this privilege, Oliver, but I've already been briefed," he said, then cleared his throat. "Okay men."
"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson irritably.
"And women," James agreed, just as Wood always had. "This is it."
"The big one," said Fred Weasley, catching on quickly.
"The one we've all been waiting for," said George, grinning at his twin.
"We've got the best team that has sat in this changing room in a good century of Hogwarts players and you're going to go out there and thrash those youngsters. A team I have coached has never yet lost a game, and you aren't going to break my perfect record. You're going to win, I know it. Right. It's time for me to go up. Good luck, all of you."
James shook hands with each of them and left, not noticing the smirks the team exchanged behind his back. He took his place, again he was between Hermione and Severus, and sat there, grinning openly. Rolanda Hooch was getting more and more disconcerted as time passed and kept glancing and his smug expression. When Dumbledore at last took his place, Minerva nodded to the commentator, Lee Jordan, and he began. As the best commentator they'd ever had, despite his blatant favouritism, he had been invited back every year for this match. James walked over and slid a slip of paper in front of him and Lee grinned at the team names he read.
"Welcome everyone to the long awaited Quidditch match of the Harry Potter Festival," Lee Jordan said, his voice booming out of the microphone he held. "As always, we have two teams. Our first team, playing in black, is the Hogwarts team, made up entirely of present pupils of the school and trained by Hogwarts' very own Flying Instructor, Madam Hooch! We have Alderton, Smith, Bourke, Blotts, Bell, Thomas and Parkinson!"
The bleaches where the students were sitting erupted with cheers as the team zoomed onto the pitch. They were quite good, James admitted, and they had been training hard. Madam Hooch was now looking unbearably confident as she watched them zip around the stadium. Lee gave them a moment to absorb the applause before continuing.
"Our second team, playing in white, is the Veteran team, made up entirely of past pupils of any age and trained by Hogwarts' very own Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, James Evans! I give you some of the best players in living memory, Oliver Wood of Puddlemere United…"
"Damn!" Madam Hooch muttered. James smirked.
"…Angelina Johnson of the Holyhead Harpies, Draco Malfoy, Katie Bell…"
Madam Hooch groaned.
"…Fred and George Weasley of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes and, playing as Seeker today, Charlie Weasley!"
Her head dropped into her hand. Resigned to her fate, she pulled out her purse and began to count out galleons
The cheers now were thunderous, students and adults cheering wildly as they saw some of the most famous young names in Quidditch before them.
"Brilliant," James heard Severus murmur. "Thank you Draco."
The teams formed up in the standard positions ready for the game to begin. Oliver Wood and Archie Alderton, the team captains, landed in front of the guest referee.
"Now, I want a nice, clean game," he said sternly, "from all of you! Shake hands."
The two shook hands firmly, Archie Alderton looking awed at this contact with one of his all time heroes.
"Mount your brooms."
The captains remounted their brooms and flew into their positions. The referee kicked open the trunk containing the balls. The Bludgers immediately shot out upwards, followed by the Golden Snitch. The referee picked up the Quaffle and threw it straight upwards. The Chasers swooped in as the ball fell and Angelina Johnson snatched it and shot off.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson," Lee continued, "A former Gryffindor, for those who don't know - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too, as I've told her often enough - "
"JORDAN!" McGonagall exclaimed. If Lee Jordan was acting like a teenager, he would most certainly get treated like one!
James watched keenly as she sped down the pitch, the others following in a Hawkshead Attacking Formation. Using a perfect Sloth Grip roll to dodge the two incoming Bludgers, she dodged the Keeper and sent the Quaffle neatly through the right hand hoop.
"A perfect goal by Johnson, ten points to the Veterans!"
Punching the air triumphantly, they did a victory lap, swerving back to intercept the kids' attempt at goal.
Fred and George had latched onto a Bludger each and, using that peculiar synchronisation they had always been able to manage perfectly, had hit them simultaneously and the incoming Chaser in a classic Dopplebeater Defence. Roger Smith took a Bludger to the stomach and, while regaining control of his broom, dropped the Quaffle, quickly picked up by his teammate, Sarah Bell.
Dodging the next bludger attack, she bent low over her broom and sped up the pitch.
"I don't believe it," Lee said, sounding impressed, "Bell Junior is dodging veteran chasers including aunt, Katie Bell, using the Woollongong Shimmy, an extremely complex Chaser move.
James, while impressed at this thirteen year old's abilities, was watching the Seekers far more closely. Charlie was circling high above the action, the opposing Seeker copying him. As he'd practised so often, Charlie, jerked his broom round and dove down towards the grass beneath them. Scattering the Chasers below them, the two Seekers, for Jeffrey Parkinson had latched on and was very close, hurtled towards the ground. Twenty metres and closing, ten, five, but they kept going. At the last minute, Charlie jerked his broom up and Parkinson ploughed into the ground. Charlie hovered by him for a moment while mediwizards ran onto the field, then soared up again.
"A Wronski Feint by Charlie Weasley," Lee yelled amid the cheers and groans from the supporters. "Now we know why the England squad were so keen to recruit him. So, the score stands at 130 to 40, the Veterans winning. This game is closer than anyone expected. James Evans has stood up in the stands: he's calling for a 'time out'. The ref blows his whistle and Evans flies down to the pitch - he has a broom in the box, Madam Hooch's usual trick. She's following him. What does he want to tell his team, given that they're winning already?"
James scowled at Lee and turned to the team gathered around him.
"You're winning, good, let's keep it that way. Charlie, Parkinson is out of action, if he does choose to continue, he has problems taking the initiative, he'll follow you, so try another Feint. Chasers, they're going to be a challenge. Alderton and Bell are the strongest, Smith is definitely the weak link. His pass is weak. Alderton has a tendency to get distracted by the rest of the game, Charlie, you should try and keep his attention. Katie, do you have any advice on your niece?"
"Her passing can be a bit weak," she said hesitantly.
"Fine, work on it. Their Keeper is a little weak on the right hoop, exploit that if you can. Fred, George, try and keep control of the Bludgers. It doesn't matter so much if you don't hit a player every time, but don't give their Beaters a chance at touching one. Understand? That's it, go on and win."
He returned to his seat while his team returned to play. His attention returned to the play as young Parkinson, a third year boy, staggered off a stretcher at the side of the pitch and took off again, Madam Pomfrey looking insulted that he should even consider it. Charlie seemed to be smiling at the kid, congratulating him for his guts, if not his common sense.
A few moments later, Draco started shouting, outraged.
"Foul! You were blagging, you little brat!"
The referee obviously agreed, since he awarded a penalty. Draco took it and scored, following James' advice and aiming for the right hand hoop.
Amidst the cheers that followed, he missed Charlie's eyes focus on a point just beyond Parkinson's shoulder and push his broom to its limits as he zoomed after. Parkinson followed, a bit more cautiously than before. The stands fell silent as they watched the Seekers battle it out. Charlie drew ahead, dodged a bludger, flew straight through the younger Chasers and, flying low above the pitch, stood up on his broom, arms outstretched. He lunged for the snitch, overbalanced and tumbled to the ground. He appeared for a moment to be unconscious but slowly, cautiously stood up, holding the Golden Snitch fluttering in his fist.
"Charlie Weasley catches the Snitch!" Lee yelled. "The Veterans win for the first time in six years! The final score is 350 to 90."
James joined in the cheering, beaming even more when the less fortunate members of staff began to realise their losses. He looked at Severus,
"Why did you bet for us?"
"Why? I cheated of course," Severus said. "Once Draco told me who the team was, I knew the little blockheads didn't stand a chance."
"Bloody Slytherins, I told them to keep quiet."
"Yes, but I'm family and don't count any more than Blaise does."
James' team flew a victory lap of the pitch as their opponents flew to the ground. After a moment, the winners followed, shaking hands with each of them and signing autographs when requested. Draco flew up to the teacher's box, dropping in next to Lee. He grinned mischievously at James and took the microphone. This looked planned, Lee hadn't looked surprised, at any rate, nor had McGonagall.
"Quiet please!" Draco roared. The stadium went silent. He continued at a slightly quieter volume and Minerva cautiously removed her hands from her ears. "Thank you. Now, on behalf of the team, I would like to thank James Evans for coaching our team. As you already know, he attended Griffin University with me and was an expert dueller. He was also on the Merlin House Quidditch team, playing as Beater for two years, then as Seeker for a further two. The team have made a unanimous decision that you should have the opportunity to see his skills even though he isn't a former student of Hogwarts. James, will you agree to a Seeker's match played now against Charlie Weasley? You can't refuse, the bets have already been placed. No disagreement? Excellent. You go and change, while I give your spectators the stats on the players.
"1st up, and you've already seen him today, Charlie Weasley, a former Gryffindor student at Hogwarts and the second son of the Weasley family. He was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, playing as Seeker for six years and, in his last two years, was the Quidditch Captain. His team won the Quidditch Cup twice. He is thirty two years old, six foot three tall, unmarried and works as a Dragon Healer and Handler at the Sanctuary in Romania. There are rumours, sadly unconfirmed to this date, that he has been offered the position of Seeker on the National England squad a total of three times. He is flying today a Nimbus 3000, a top racing broom newly out this year.
"Against him we have James Evans, aged 24 and six foot tall. I'm assuming you all know what he looks like. Joining the University aged 20 he was immediately admitted onto the Merlin Quidditch team, captained by myself, in the position of Beater. Despite having no prior experience, he trained and was quickly the best Beater on any of the teams. After my departure at the end of his second year, he was unanimously elected Captain and returned to his preferred position of Seeker. Later he was selected as the Quidditch rep of the University. His favourite move is the Wronski Move, and he is an acknowledged master at it, and was the one to have coached Charlie Weasley in it prior to this match. James has admitted that he has received offers to play as a Seeker on the England and Scotland first squads or as a Beater on England's first squad. As you can hear, he is much in demand. I am also told that, as a Slytherin House master, he will be assisting the Slytherin Quidditch team. Today, James is flying his preferred make of broom, the Firebolt XF. Here is now, dressed in green Merlin House Quidditch robes. Before the snitch is released, he will do a couple of warm up laps."
James, inwardly delighted at the thrill of playing in front of an audience again, shot around the field. Draco continued with his speech.
"The Nimbus 3000 is the favourite broom for International Quidditch teams this year, its easy handling and sharp turning ability makes it ideal for the Seeker's position. However, it is known to have a poor acceleration speed given its other features. The Firebolt XF has the fastest acceleration of any broom ever made. Stripped down to the bare minimum of features, this is not the broom for an amateur, all the magic is focussed on speed. With the excellent handling we are accustomed to from the Firebolt Company, its only disadvantage in this match is a slightly slower top speed than the Nimbus. This will be, in the end, a match decided by the abilities of the Seekers."
James finished his warm-up and flew into the middle of the pitch, waving to the ref to indicate his readiness to begin. Holding the snitch between first finger and thumb, the man stepped into the middle of the field and released it. Darting away, watched keenly by James and Charlie, it soon vanished from sight. When the two minutes of waiting time was over, the ref. blew his whistle and the game began.
Unlike a normal Quidditch match, there were no bludgers, no other players, no points. The only way to win was to catch the snitch. It was a contest of skill, keen sight, endurance and training and it was also one that James enjoyed. He swooped around the field, watching for signs of his elusive target.
He saw a glint of gold just behind Charlie and pushed his broom forwards. Charlie hadn't noticed him, but the noise from the stands alerted him to James' movements. Glancing round, his caught sight of the snitch and followed it into a steep dive. James, slightly higher, dropped into free-fall, something hardly anyone would dare.
The snitch darted into the stands. There was a collective groan from the audience and some quick-minded person cast a charm onto the middle of the pitch to show what the players were doing. It was like James' match against Malfoy in second year, the one when he'd broken his arm. But he wasn't twelve any more. Dodging the beams was child's play and the pair of them followed easily, vying for position. The snitch emerged, hovering just under a metre above the ground, under the teacher's box. Draco was craning over the edge.
"Here they come," he was saying, "Evans is slightly in the lead. Its going to be a difficult catch at that altitude…"
James shut out his friend's voice and focussed on positioning his broom as low over the grass as he could make it. Arm outstretched, he slowly pulled below Charlie, closing on the snitch. Being lighter was certainly an advantage in these circumstances. He was hovering, was it only 20cm above the ground? He was almost there . . . . just a little to high. . . he dropped under his broom in a kind of sloth grip roll, one hand still outstretched. He reached down, caught hold of the snitch and let go, skidding along the ground. His broom stopped as soon as he fell of and flew back to him.
They were cheering him now. Charlie dropped down and helped him to his feet. An arm around his shoulders, he helped him from the pitch.
A/N: so, what did you think?