Chapter Thirteen

Onto the Pitch; Into the Air

Sports do not build character. They reveal it.

~John Wooden

Whispers followed them around wherever they went. In the hallways, in classes, at meals, even while they were working in the library. Ever since the Halloween feast, it seemed that all the school could talk about was the prank and the fact that four first year Gryffindors had been the ones responsible.

James and Sirius were taking this newfound fame extremely well. They were walking throughout the castle with their heads held high. Their gait had even changed, becoming more arrogant and self-assured. All the talk about their exploits made the pair feel like kings. Peter, as well, was really enjoying the attention, though he didn't show it as outwardly as the others. His meek nature only seemed to allow him to internally revel in the attention. Remus, however, was less than enthused. In fact, he seemed to be pulling away from the other three.

James was a little worried, but this wasn't the first time that Remus had pulled away from them. A few weeks ago, James had noticed Remus getting sicker and sicker and with each day that passed; and as Remus got sicker, he seemed less and less inclined to spend time with James, Sirius, and Peter. Remus wouldn't sit with them at meals or in class. He would quickly run away to the library whenever they had a moment of free time and if anyone tried to follow him, he would disappear within the stacks. James had gotten so worried that he was about to confront Remus about his behaviour when the other boy seemed to get over his sickness and his aversion to his fellow first years.

This time though, Remus separation wasn't sickness related, at least not that James could see. Maybe, James thought, Remus wasn't as big a fan of the spotlight as the other boys were. Hopefully, though, he would come back to his friends like he had before.

About a week after the prank, and Remus' isolation, James was fed up. He had worked hard to befriend the sandy haired boy and now it was all being thrown away because of a little school-based infamy. James didn't think that was a good enough reason. That night, as Remus stood from the Great Hall dinner and headed off to the library, James told Sirius and Peter that he would meet them in the common room later. James then stood and, as sneakily as possible, followed Remus. He didn't want the other boy to know that he was following him lest it lead to a disappearing act. James wanted to confront Remus, but he didn't want to have to search him out first.

They arrived at the library and James took a table a few away from Remus and behind him. The other boy would only notice James' presence if he fully turned around. While James was observing Remus, he began to overhear a fairly loud whispered conversation from a few tables over. Instantly, James' attention was captured, and he momentarily forgot about his mission to speak to Remus.

"Them?" A sixth-year Ravenclaw girl at the table beside James whispered rather loudly, "but they're only first years!" Almost as if with a sixth sense, James knew the two girls were discussing the prank he and his friends played. He turned from Remus to the two girls and continued listening in to their conversation.

"That's what Lucille told me. She overheard several guys talking about it. One of them saw the four of them sneak into the kitchen the day before!" her friend responded, equally as loud.

"I don't believe it! That magic was far too complicated for first years!" the first Ravenclaw spoke again. James felt his chest puff and his head swell. Here was two sixth year girls, girls who had much more experience with magic than he himself had, in a state of disbelief at what he, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had managed to pull off. It was a compliment that went straight to his head.

"Maybe they have some secret hidden talents or something. I'm just saying that that's what Luce told me!" James continued to sit in his spot, soaking in the praise that was being lavished upon him. He had completely forgotten about his reason for coming to the library in the first place. His mind was completely filled with himself and his exploits.

James' year at Hogwarts was going absolutely fantastically. The only thing that could make it better would be Quidditch and the first game of the season was only a few days away.

The month of November had dawned cool and crisp at Hogwarts. Frost hung in the air and the threat of snow was omnipresent. The castle was heated with magical flames, but as James and his friends quickly discovered, the fires were only in used sections of the castle. Little travelled hallways and hidden passageways were frigid. The weather put a damper on the boys' extracurricular explorations of the castle, but definitely not on their spirits

On the morning of the match, the first sunny day in a week, James woke up before the sun. He was far too excited to sleep a minute longer. Today would be the day he would finally see a Quidditch match at Hogwarts. He had gone to professional Quidditch games before, quite a few times, but there was something extra special about the match at Hogwarts. Maybe it was the fact that James was pretty sure he was only a short year away from actually being a member on the team at Hogwarts, unlike a professional team.

Sirius woke up about an hour after James. He was likewise as excited as James. The two passed the hours until it was time for breakfast eagerly, a little loudly, discussing the different moves and plays they might see that day. Their exuberant conversation quickly woke Peter and Remus and all four boys began talking about the game. It seemed, much to James' pleasure, that everyone was looking forward to today.

"Alright, gents. It's time we head down to the pitch! Want to make sure we get really amazing seats!" James exclaimed when it was finally time for breakfast. He then stood from his bed, wrapping his red scarf around his neck and leading the boys out of their dorm room.

A pudgy dark haired Hufflepuff named Donald Karlson announced Quidditch games at Hogwarts. He had a deep, animated voice perfect for calling matches. James suspected that he'd end up in radio one day; he had that type of voice. Karlson began the match by commenting on the weather conditions and the fact that this rivalry, the Gryffindor-Slytherin one, was deep-seated and long-standing. It was simple, colour commentary type stuff.

Finally, the two teams walked onto the pitch. The flying instructor Karl Broadmoor followed behind. He was wearing referee robes and carrying a Quidditch ball trunk. Everyone down on the pitch prepared for the start of the match and, after completing the traditional pre-game routines, Broadmoor released the Snitch and the Quaffle and the game began.

"Young third year chaser for Gryffindor, Vincent Price, has the Quaffle. He expertly weaves through Slytherin's defence. Wow, that bludger was close! Excellent broom work, Price. He passes to Longbottom –that's Frank Longbottom, Gryffindor prefect- who positions for the goal… and it's good! Ten points for Gryffindor!" Karlson announced, his voice rising and falling in excitement to help amplify the mood of the crowd.

James was vibrating. He was leaning far over the railing, almost like he was trying to get onto the pitch. He had to remind himself that he would get there soon enough, and it wouldn't be by launching himself from the stands. He took a step back and watched the rest of the game, trying to contain his pure excitement.

"And another goal by Cornish! That makes the score 60 to 10 for Gryffindor!" Karlson exclaimed into the megaphone like contraption that projected his voice throughout the crowd. All those rooting for Gryffindor erupted into cheers and screams of joy. It was only about fifteen to twenty minutes into the game and already Gryffindor was up by 50 points. They were absolutely dominating Slytherin.

"Slytherin is just absolutely imploding! It's like they've never even flown before!" James screamed joyfully. It looked like a few of the members of the Slytherin team had never flown before. Their keeper, a huge hulking player, kept dropping feet below the goal posts he was meant to be guarding and then had to fight to regain and retain the altitude that he needed. Also, two of the three chasers seemed slightly confounded. They dropped the Quaffle a few times and flew in slightly the wrong direction. It was, on the whole, fairly subtle but James, having watched several Quidditch matches, quickly picked up on it.

'Maybe,' he thought, trying to explain it, 'Maybe Quidditch at Hogwarts is significantly below the professional level. Or at least in Slytherin house.' That thought made him smile. Slytherin sucking at Quidditch was fabulous news.

"And Cadwallader scores for Slytherin! 20 to 60 is where the score stands now. The Quaffle is quickly back in play and in the hands of Slytherin's most senior player Bulstrode! Bulstrode passes to Cadwallader. Cadwallader dodges a bludger sent his way by O'Donnell. That was nearly on target! Cadwallader is being charged by Gryffindor chasers Longbottom and Cornish and quickly passes the Quaffle to Bletchley who shoots and… it's good! 30 to 60!" Karlson's commentary quickly drew James from his observations of the Slytherins and back into the game. Whatever he had seen in the Slytherin players only moments ago was gone and they seemed somehow rejuvenated.

Something about the whole thing seemed off, smelled fishy, and stuck in the back of James' mind, but he was too invested in the game before him to really worry about it too much at that particular moment.

For James' first Quidditch game at Hogwarts, he had been treated a crazy, topsy-turvy game. Just when he thought he knew the outcome, something came around and changed his mind. It was a truly exhilarating game.

In total up to that point, James and the other Hogwarts students had witnessed sixty minutes of Quidditch. The first 20 to 25 minutes had been a game of near total Gryffindor domination. They scored six times in that period of time and Slytherin's players looked like they were asleep. Then something changed. Whatever had been going on with Slytherin in that first part of the game stopped and Slytherin turned their game on high.

Quickly, the score switched; Gryffindor gave up their lead and then some. After an hour of play the score was 150 for Slytherin, 70 for Gryffindor. The previously celebratory Gryffindors now sat in stunned silence and the Slytherins became loud and boisterous. They sang songs that mocked various Gryffindor players and verbally ribbed players and fans alike.

The turnaround was extremely drastic, and James felt he could no longer ignore his thoughts from before. Maybe the Slytherins who appeared confounded actually were, hindering their game. Then the spell had worn off and the true abilities of Slytherin shone through. But that seemed crazy to James. This game, in the grand scheme of that year's Quidditch Cup, was minimally important. So, there wasn't really an incentive to cheat in this game.

But still, something felt wrong about it.

"Uh oh! It would appear as if Bulstrode's broom is malfunctioning! Mister Broadmoor has called a pause to the game play as this matter is sorted out," the announcer, Karlson spoke, his voice surprised, but not necessarily concerned. Bulstrode's broom was acting as if it was trying to throw him off. It would jerk violently right then violently left. It then dropped straight down for several hundred feet before quickly righting itself. Someone had obviously jinxed his broom.

"What's this? Now the Slytherin keeper, McNair can't seem to control his broom! And there goes Bletchley! Nice figure eight, though!" As Broadmoor had gone after Bulstrode and his malfunctioning broom, the other members of the Slytherin team lost control of their brooms one after another, like dominoes. The keeper's broom returned to the dropping action that it had been doing previously, but much more exaggerated. Bletchley, one of the Slytherin chasers, looked like he was performing some sort of aerial ballet, with flips, figure eights, and other intricate manoeuvres. Then Cadwallader's broom began flying at top speeds toward the stands and the spectators before quickly veering off at the last moment.

"That looks like the same spell you and Sirius put on Snape's broom during out first flying lesson," Remus whispered to James as they watched Cadwallader be dragged along by his broom. It seemed Remus wasn't the only one to make this observation; whispers quickly erupted in all sections of the stands from first years and then older students. People then began shooting James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter looks like they thought those four may have had something to do with it all. As well, whispers began to spread that maybe the Gryffindor team or Gryffindor students had jinxed the brooms. This second set of whispers combined with the first set and even more stares and glances were shot in the first years' direction.

James slunk down in his seat. He enjoyed the whispers when they were positive, about fun and joking pranks he had pulled, but when they were about real misdeeds that he hadn't even done, he really hated them.

After twenty minutes, Broadmoor was able to get control of the brooms. Because the jinxes that had been placed on them were unknown, they couldn't be completely removed. Professor Strinkley had volunteered to take the brooms and carefully examine them, but the Slytherin team insisted on continuing the game and on their own brooms. So, Professor Strinkley performed a quick blanket anti-jinx on the brooms and the game continued.

It was absolutely devastating. Despite the occasional jinx-related glitch with the brooms, Slytherin dominated Gryffindor. The game lasted for another thirty minutes, and the final score was 400 to 100 with the Slytherin seeker, and team captain, Alectus Warrington, catching the snitch. As soon as his hand had closed around the small golden ball, the other Slytherin players were thrown from their brooms. Headmaster Dumbledore acted quickly enough to slow down all the thrown players so that not one of them was injured.

As soon as the students gently landed on the pitch grass, Professor Strinkley seized their brooms to determine what, and possibly even who, had jinxed the brooms. Mister Broadmoor corralled the Gryffindor players, the obvious culprits. The jinxing had only really begun to occur after Gryffindor started to loose. Slowly, Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, and Professor Slughorn, head of Slytherin house, made their way down to the pitch to oversee the situation. Then, all the students in the stands were dismissed.

As they all filed out, the only topic of conversation for every single student was what had happened and whom they thought was responsible.

"That was so crazy! Someone jinxing the whole Slytherin Quidditch team? And then Cadwallader's broom behaving exactly like Snape's? Crazy! I wonder who would have done such a thing?" Peter mused and exclaimed, obviously excited about all of the events.

"Not sure, Pete. Sort of looks like us, so maybe we should talk later. In private. I mean, we didn't do anything here, but best to not discuss it so openly," Sirius responded. James, who had been unnaturally quiet, seemed to agree with Sirius' statement and the four didn't say another word as they made their way through the stands, and down towards the ground.

About halfway between the castle and the stands, Professor McGonagall stood off to the side, observing the stream of students. She looked at James, making direct eye contact with him. It was obvious to James that she wanted to talk to them. The four slowly began making their way towards the professor.

"Professor?" James spoke, making his address a question about what she wanted.

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Black. A word, please. Alone," her words were short, her tone clipped. It was obvious she was upset. James felt himself pale as he realised that he and Sirius were about to be blamed, or at the very least looked at extremely carefully, for the events that had just occurred.

"Of course, Professor," James responded, moving to follow her into the castle. Remus and Peter stood rooted in place watching their friends leave.