The Fault-Seeker
"Where were you?" Peter demanded.
He was gaping at James and Sirius in the Charms classroom. It was the day after James and Sirius had fled from Argus Filch after fighting with Regulus, and this was the first chance that Peter had been able to question them about their impromptu flight. Remus' eyes kept flitting up to James and Sirius, but he was pretending to practice the Mending Charm.
Shrugging, James answered, "Trying to avoid Filch. Out on the grounds, mostly."
As Remus threw another look their way, Sirius scowled at him. "What? We just didn't feel like going to class. It's not like we committed a crime."
Looking like he wanted to slip under an Invisibility Cloak, Remus ducked his head again. "Well, it didn't do you much good in the end," he pointed out under his breath, and James enchanted together the broken pieces of glass on their shared desk with a scowl. It was true: after skipping classes all day, he and Sirius had finally been caught by Filch once they had returned to the castle, and the ensuing confrontation with him and Professor McGonagall had kept them up after hours.
"I don't see what good you thought it would do to try and hide, that's all," Remus explained, blasting apart the newly-fixed vase again with a Reductor Curse. "Filch had already seen you hexing Regulus, and you couldn't avoid him forever."
"I'm just glad that Filch had the good sense to give Regulus detention, too," Sirius replied. "The whole incident was his fault, anyway."
"You're the one who pulled out your wand first," Remus countered, glancing at Sirius again. "And don't tell me that he looked at you the wrong way."
"You missed an awfully important Defense Against the Dark Arts class," Peter interjected after Sirius made a face at Remus.
"Not to mention Professor Vector's first lesson," Remus put in.
"Aven really gives out a lot of homework," Peter sighed, poking at a glass shard with his wand.
"So does Vector," Remus added. "Though Aven's assignments seem mostly like busywork."
Groaning, James and Sirius shared a grimace. "How much is there?" James asked against his better judgment, rubbing his forehead.
"Take a look for yourself," Remus replied, nodding at the monstrous pile of notes sitting by the foot of the desk.
"That's all for two classes?" Sirius exclaimed.
"No, that's only for Defense Against the Dark Arts," Peter corrected. "We have two essays assigned from Professor Aven, and at least five quizzes to study for."
"But it nearly reaches up to your knee!" Sirius objected. "What's Aven's issue?"
"Ask him yourself," Remus suggested, shrugging. "When you actually decide to attend class," he added, and James and Sirius slouched as he Mended the vase.
"Attention, class!" Professor Flitwick's shrill voice called out. "I want you to keep practicing the Mending Charm for your homework, and don't forget the essay about Repairing Enchantments due next week!" Giving James and Sirius another long look as they slouched still lower, Remus gathered his supplies and headed for the door, followed closely by Peter.
"Have fun at Quidditch practice, James!" Peter called on his way out.
Suddenly remembering his afternoon engagement, James brightened and grabbed his Charms textbook. "Can you take this back up to our room?" he asked Sirius, tossing it on top of his roommate's copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. "I've got to run!"
Mumbling a response, Sirius remained rooted to his chair as James dashed out of the classroom, shoving aside a pair of small first-years as he redirected his course towards the castle exit. Leaving behind the alabaster columns of the third floor, he slipped through a partially-hidden door that led down to ground level, soon sprinting out under the cloud-ridden sky. Reaching the Quidditch pitch after a few minutes of jogging, James greeted the rest of the team arranged around the center of the field.
"I'll be right out, King!" he cried to the team's new Captain. "I just need to grab my broom!"
Arms crossed, King nodded as James headed for the locker rooms. Humming to himself, James rapidly strapped on his protective gear and snatched his Airwake before running back onto the field. He gave a few hops as he adjusted his right shoe, finally coming to a halt in front of the rest of the Gryffindor team and slamming the end of his broomstick onto the ground.
"What's the hold-up?" James questioned, throwing his hair out of his face and grinning. "I'm ready to go!"
"We're still waiting for one more," Michael, one of the Beaters, answered him tiredly. Frowning, James glanced back towards the locker rooms, his glasses sliding into a crooked slant as he tilted his head. He had not missed any of his teammates at first glance, and he quickly counted them again: King and Frank, the two other Chasers, were standing nearby, and so were Raul and Joseph, the other Beater and Keeper. The old Captain, of course, would not be present, since she had graduated the year before.
Trying not to smack his forehead as realization hit him, James voiced, "Oh yeah, Morgan's not here. Say, King, who's the new Seeker? Did you find someone good?"
Not bothering to answer him as the rest of the team turned their heads, King directed James' gaze towards the locker rooms as a tall, fair-haired student strutted out of the doorway. Dressed immaculately in his uniform, he sported a lazy sort of smile under his squinty amber eyes and his perfectly combed hair. Immediately taken aback at the older boy's jaunty expression, James narrowed his eyes as the student approached and rested his weight on one leg, holding his broom with a casual grip.
"Are you all ready?" he inquired silkily, and Raul's eyebrows rose to his hairline.
"Have been," King replied before freeing one of his arms from their impassive clasp to gesture at James. "You haven't met our third Chaser. James Potter, this is Cassius Kennedy, our new Seeker."
Reaching out his white-gloved hand with a pearly smile, Kennedy waited for James to take it. "A pleasure, I'm sure. You play much?"
Staring down at the spotless glove, James decided that he most definitely did not like his new teammate. "More than you, I reckon," he answered, and Kennedy retracted his hand when it became clear that James would not be shaking it.
"Nice team," Kennedy commented to King in a manner far from a compliment, and James felt the hair bristle at the back of his neck. Looking like he might throw up, Frank made a face at the back of the Seeker's head while Joseph turned a bright shade of crimson. "Is this your first year Captaining?"
"Yes, but I know the players," King replied, showing much greater calm than any of the other members. "I don't think it'll be a problem for you coming in late. It won't take long to show you the ropes."
"Oh, don't worry about me," Kennedy told him, laughing without mirth. "I've been playing since I was born. How about it, then?"
Swaggering away from them, he mounted his broom and rose into the air with a swoosh, leaving the others to glare up at him before doing the same. As Michael and Raul flew upwards with a shared glower, James spun on King.
"What was that?" he demanded, gesturing up at Kennedy, and King glanced down at him.
"He was the best in the tryouts," he replied simply, and James clenched his teeth.
"Him?" he cried. "He's got the arrogance of a hippogriff!"
"I know he's not the easiest to get along with," King answered, "but there's no denying his skill. I'm trusting you all to keep your opinions of him professional," he added to Frank and Joseph, who were still on the ground listening in on the conversation.
Snorting, James glanced up at the sky. "That'll be easier if we can unscrew his broomstick out from his own—"
"That's enough," King reprimanded, mounting his ride and pushing off from the grass. "Unlatch the Bludgers and get into position."
Shaking his head, Frank shared a look with James before opening the locked chest in the middle of the field. Grumbling to himself, James followed Joseph into the air and settled into place beside King, resisting the urge to hit Kennedy with his broomstick handle on the way up. Glancing at the Seeker's gloves, James cocked an eyebrow and cleared his throat.
"Do you normally play with those?" he spoke up, trying to keep his voice civil as Kennedy turned his pinched eyes towards him. "How are you supposed to catch the Snitch with those on?"
"They're Murtlap skin," Kennedy replied, his smile plastered on as if he was explaining something to a small child. Turning over his hand so that James could see the thin underside, he rubbed his pointer finger and thumb together. "Thinner than dragon skin, and produces a much better grip. It's the newest invention in professional games. Don't you keep up with Seeker Weekly?"
Glaring at him, James scoffed, "Who doesn't?"
Making a show of being surprised, Kennedy eyed him up and down. "Then I'm surprised you don't remember it."
"I must have missed the latest issue," James told him, turning up his chin and looking away. "I often spend my time reading publications like The Broomstick Periodical, Quidditch Illustrated, and WQG—you know, the less common magazines."
Spotting Kennedy's frown out of the corner of his eye, James suppressed a smirk as he waited for Frank to release the the Golden Snitch. After freeing the majority of the balls, Frank tossed the Quaffle above his head, and James swooped forward to snatch it out of the air. Spinning around in an unnecessarily embellished loop, he threw it to King, who sped off towards the three hoops guarded by Joseph. Sending the ball to Frank, who had now joined him in front of the goalposts, King pulled back as Frank tossed the ball forward, but Joseph completed a rapid change of direction to knock the ball from the sky. Shooting a fist into the air at Joseph's fast reflexes, Frank opened his mouth to shout a congratulations, but Kennedy called down to him before he could speak.
"Longbottom? If I may," he spoke, leaning down from his broomstick, "I think I can see what happened. You overcompensated for your throw, so Mallord naturally had time to reach it. If you had aimed a bit farther to the right, the Quaffle might have gone through even at its slow speed."
Clenching his jaw, James threw a withering glance up at Kennedy, where he was staring at the Chasers in casual interest. "Aren't you supposed to be looking for the Snitch?" James snapped.
"It won't show for another few minutes at least," Kennedy replied, shrugging. "I thought that I might help out in the meantime."
"Well, you can stop helping," James retorted before King could stop him.
"James," King interjected, and James crossed his arms and looked away. Facing Frank, King said, "He has a point, Frank—Joseph acted quickly, but he might not have stopped the Quaffle if you had put more force into the throw. And Kennedy, you can leave the pointers to me in the future."
Shrugging, Kennedy kept watching the Chasers from a distance as King retrieved the Quaffle and threw it back into play. Catching it, Frank gave Kennedy a quick glare before shooting across the field with needless speed. Copying him, James kept on his tail while Michael and Raul kept the Bludgers at bay with their bats. When James and the other Chasers approached the goalposts again, James shot the ball out of his arms with an aggressive display of power, and it sailed past Joseph's outstretched hands to pass through the left hoop.
"Mallord?" Kennedy's voice rang out again, and James could barely conceal his rage as he clenched his fists and spun his broomstick around. "I believe the trick is to keep your eyes on the Chaser's arm, not the Quaffle itself," Kennedy critiqued while Joseph glowered at him.
"Kennedy?" King interjected.
"Yes?" Kennedy inquired, turning towards the Captain, and King was not the only one to frown. Normally, none of the players needed to ask for clarification from their generally brusque teammate, as just the warning in his voice gave them all they needed to know.
"I believe that I told you to leave the pointers to me," King told Kennedy, and the new player sat back.
"Oh, for him, too?" he questioned as if having just considered the option. "All right, if that's what you meant."
Shooting a look at King that went unnoticed, James huffed and shot down to retrieve the Quaffle. During the next few plays, Kennedy kept his thoughts to himself, but his occasional grunts gave James blisters from clenching his broom handle so often. Other than the sparing glances and occasional lap that Kennedy would send across the field, he made no great attempt to search for the Golden Snitch, and even King had to resort to ignoring his presence to keep from growing irritated. A bit later in the afternoon, James sent yet another glare up at the Seeker and spotted a glint of gold a bit floating behind his head.
"Hey, newbie!" James shouted out, pointing. "It's the Snitch!"
Spinning around with astonishing speed, Kennedy closed his fist around the golden ball after only a short moment of chase and lowered himself from the sky. Everyone except King seemed taken aback at his rapid movement, and Michael let his mouth fall open when he spotted the captured ball, having missed Kennedy's swift motion.
"Should I let it loose again?" the Seeker questioned King, and the Captain did a sweeping glance of the rest of the team. Sensing the others' agitation, he shook his head and pointed his thumb at the ground below.
"That's enough for today," he answered. "We'll pick it up next time."
Sharing glances, the others slowly descended to the grass aside from Michael and Raul, who raced after the Bludgers to capture them. Curling his nose when Kennedy landed a short distance from him, James started to walk off towards the locker rooms.
"Are practices normally this short?" Kennedy asked no one in particular. "I could have gone on until the evening."
"Our old Seeker used to make up her own training regimens," James snapped against his better judgment, giving him a sideways glance. "If King's exercises don't satisfy you, maybe you should practice more on your own."
"Oh, I already have a set of drills that I go through every day," Kennedy replied, upsettingly deciding to keep pace with James. "Need to keep in shape, you know." After a short pause, he looked at James with an almost reluctant nod. "I must say, Potter, you have impressive speed. What model of broom do you own?"
"Airwake," James responded briskly, though his tone softened as he displayed the engraving on the side of his broom.
Although his eyes widened, Kennedy kept his voice detached as he eyed the slender broomstick. "Really? I guess that explains it, then." Pausing while James shot him a glare, he thought for a moment before speaking again. "You know," he began slowly, "it surprises me that you would have an Airwake. Chasers aren't necessarily supposed to have that amount of power. Can you manage to stay on top of it all right?"
"I think I can handle it just fine," James replied, a small hiss escaping his teeth.
"Really, it would much better match a Seeker," Kennedy continued as if he had not heard James. "It's all in the speed, you know. It can really overwhelm a Chaser at times."
"I'm not giving you my broom," James told him bluntly, coming to a stop, and Kennedy gaped at him as Frank caught up with James and waved him down.
"James, do you want to stay a bit longer and fly around? I don't have anything to do tonight. My assignments can wait until later. What do you say?"
"Sorry, I wish I could," James told him in a much friendlier voice than he had been using with Kennedy. "I have a detention tonight, and I don't want to hear it from Filch if I miss it."
Laughing as Kennedy gave James a deep-set frown, Frank hit him on the shoulder. "Still at it, eh? Well, that's all right. Just don't let me catch you doing anything you aren't supposed to. Prefect now, remember?" Tapping his chest, Frank began walking in the other direction and waved him goodbye. "I'll just practice on my own for a while before going back to the castle. I really should be getting to my homework, anyway. This year is really biting me where it hurts."
"See you later!" James told him before heading into the locker rooms, running ahead of Kennedy before he could engage James in conversation.