Chapter IV

Gryffindor Versus Slytherin

((James's POV))

November came, along with bitter weather and Quidditch season. I was not made captain, and why not? I was easily the greatest player on the team…but maybe Dumbledore thought I had enough responsibilities. And he was right, in a way, because watching over a bunch of slobbering first years is not the easiest job.

Well, there I went again. Being all cocky. Damn.

We trained rigorously; Gryffindor Quidditch Captain Michael Kirke was determined to get the Quidditch cup for the sixth year in a row. We all went to practice from seven o'clock to nine o'clock on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays after class, and on Saturday mornings (though not on Hogsmeade weekends) from six o'clock to eight thirty.

Lily seemed to be loosening up a bit. Often I would go a week without asking her out, and then springing the question on her between one of our classes, trying to scare her into a yes. She never did say it, though, and I tried acting pathetic so she might change her mind. Alas, but to no avail.

Our first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, was now upon us. That Saturday morning, as I got up to go down to the Quidditch pitch, Lily stood up from her spot at the table.

"Well, Potter, I just wanted to wish you luck. I mean, you're a much better Seeker than that Falker girl anyway." A little bit of color appeared in her cheeks. "I'll be angry if Gryffindor loses."

"Er—thanks, Lily," I said gratefully. "Will you go out with me? I might win if you say yes."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," she said with a smile before sitting back down. Her friends, Pansy and Rose, lapsed into silent giggles.

"Well, I'll see you, then," I said, grinning slightly.

As we headed out onto the field from the changing rooms, three quarters of the population burst into shouts and screams, applauding us. We took off, and I circled the field in my Cleansweep Four (a coveted broom of many), looking for the Snitch.

"And they're off!" shouted the commentator, his voice magically magnified. "Gryffindor Chaser Carlson in possession of the Quaffle—he dodges a Bludger directed by Slytherin Beater Zambini—aims for the left goal hoop—AND HE SCORES!" There was a roar of applause from the red clad figures in the stadium. "Now Slytherin Chaser Ivan in possession—dodges a Bludger by Gryffindor Captain Kirke—aims for the center hoop—and it's blocked by Gryffindor Keeper Ravenwood!"

In the course of three minutes, we had scored twice, and Slytherin had not scored at all. I noticed a flicker of movement by the Hufflepuff Top Box—the Snitch.

I shot upward, my broom accelerating. The Slytherin Chaser Heather Falker, who was examining her nails at the time, was hovering about thirty feet above the Snitch. She noticed me coming closer, and then began diving for it herself. Although she had less way to travel, she was riding a Cleansweep Two, and she and I were already the same distance away from the glittering ball.

I leaned forward so as to allow himself more speed…I was so close…but so was Falker…our brooms were about to collide…

My fingers closed around the Snitch, and I swerved and sped off in the other direction so I wouldn't run headlong into the other Seeker. I held the golden ball high above my head as its wings fluttered helplessly, the crowd erupting with cheers. I lowered myself slowly to the ground, unwilling to get out of the air.

"That was amazing, Potter! You caught the Snitch in four minutes of playing time!" shouted Kirke as the rest of the team landed beside me. The girls kissed me on the cheek, cheering.

The Marauders were rushing towards me. Peter looked like he was about to wet himself in excitement. Remus looked very pleased, and Sirius was looking very smug.

"You did it! We knew you could! The team's never lost a game while you were on it!" Peter squealed as we made our way through the throng.

"Prongs! Party in Gryffindor Common room—tonight!" Sirius shouted, rolling his eyes at Peter.

That night, the Common Room was full of sound. It was flooded with people, signs of the team saying things like, "Slytherin is a load of dung beatles!" and "Falker looks like a grindylow!" Food that Sirius had gotten from the kitchens was all over plates being passed around, and blue bubbles from Drooble's Best Blowing Gum were floating around.

Lily, who wasn't even bothering with homework, was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, eating a Chocolate Frog, spinning the card in her fingers. I walked over to her.

"Hey, Lily," I said casually, leaning against the chair. "Want to congratulate me on my wonderful performance this afternoon?"

She looked at me, her expression suddenly turning sour as she stood up. "Oh, come to gloat, have you? Come to remind me that you're as cocky as you always were? Telling me how special you are, when I saw the game with my own eyes?"

I stared at her. "No…I was just wondering…and you were being quiet—"

"I'll have you know that I am perfectly capable of deciding when to talk to you!" she snapped, walking away furiously towards the Heads Common Room.

"What was that all about?" Sirius had appeared behind me, his expression a little amused.

"She said I was being cocky," I told him, my teeth gritted. "Don't tell Remus."

"I won't, mate," Sirius assured me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "But you need to get her out of your mind. There are plenty of other girls willing to date you."

I frowned. "I just want something I can't have."