AN: Thanks to those who reviewed! They make my day. As usual, I do not own Harry Potter. Sorry for any mistakes. Review please!
Chapter 11: Perfect
Late spring faded into summer, and students began balling their black cloaks under their arms in-between classes in order to cool off. Only a month of school remained and the teachers were once gain kicking lessons into high gear, while the students looked longingly to their summer vacation. The only energy keeping the dreadfulness of studying for finals at bay was the electric excitement of the final quidditch match of the season – Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw. If the lions could hold their thirty point lead, Gryffindor would win the cup and come away with a perfect season.
Late in the evening, James and Joey trudged into the common room after practice two nights before the big game. To say the least, they were sweaty and dirty. They spotted their fellow sixth years in the corner of the room and made their way over, weaving between first years who were nervously practicing transfiguring needles into matches. James was about to sit down and join his friends, when Taylor loudly objected and sent them straight to the showers.
When he returned to his dorm room, towel drying his hair as we went, he was surprised to find that his friends had relocated. Sirius lay sprawled on his bed, Remus spitting on the floor with his back against it, and Taylor had joined them cross-legged beside Remus, potions book open – probably quizzing the boys in preparation for an upcoming test.
When he entered the room, Taylor snapped the book shut and Sirius sat upright in bed.
"How's the team looking?" Sirius asked eagerly.
James shrugged, sitting upon his own bed, "Practice was solid and York is back in top shape. I think we have a chance."
Sirius smirked at him, "Not reprising your role as seeker?"
James laughed, "Not a chance. I'm back to my rightful role of chasing."
"Speaking of chasing," Sirius smiled wickedly, "How's Lily Evans doing?"
"Shut up, Padfoot," James sighed incredulously, "She doesn't hate me and I would like to keep it that way."
"Stop teasing him, Sirius." Remus sighed.
Taylor giggled at the three of them, keeping her womanly vow of silence and opened the book back up, reciting, "Under what moon will you get the best results for brewing potions of ill intent?"
"They shouldn't be teaching kids this stuff," Sirius remarked before Remus came up with the right answer.
The morning of the quidditch match, James found himself outside hurrying down to the pitch, broomstick flung over his shoulder. The air was thick and muggy, the sky dark – a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. He was caught up in a crowd of students heading to the pitch despite the threatening weather, and he spotted a familiar red head not far ahead. Jogging a few steps he called, "Hey, Evans!"
She glanced over at him as he caught up, continuing their walk to the stadium.
"Potter, shouldn't you be down there already? You left breakfast ages ago."
James let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, "Um, well…"
Lily grinned teasingly over at him, "What is it? I didn't think I asked such a difficult question."
James blushed, "First game of the season I left my quidditch robes in the Great Hall, and I had to go back from the locker rooms to get them. We won that game. So I've been keeping the same routine."
Lily laughed at his superstitions, "Right. The number of trips from the castle. I mean, that is clearly the reason for Gryffindor victories."
"Exactly," James smiled.
Before Lily could ridicule him more, the two were interrupted by someone shouting James's name from behind.
James spun around, confused with the pitch of the voice that had just called him. The pitch of a young boy's.
"James!"
He lowered his gaze and was met with the site of Jeremy, his St. Mongo's roommate, scurrying towards him. His father was a few paces behind.
Quidditch games were open to the public, never the less, he was very surprised to see the boy. His parents tried to attend one game a year, there was always a reporter from the Daily Prophet covering the match, and even sometimes scouts were in the stands, but for the most part James was unconcerned of who else actually attended.
"Jeremey?" He said a little confused, as the young boy flung himself at him and wrapped his arms around his legs.
Jeremey pulled back quickly, a ball of energy, "We've come to watch you play! Hogwarts is amazing!"
He turned towards Lily who was looking on a bit bewildered, "Hi! My name's Jeremey."
Lily smiled down, amused and extended her hand, "Lily."
Jeremey then spotted the broom shed, not far off, "What's in there?!" And he grabbed Lily's hand that was meant for a handshake and dragged her over.
By that point, Jeremey's father had reached the confused teen.
"James?" He asked, extending his hand, "I don't think I ever properly introduced myself. Samuel Conway. Glad we caught you."
James shook his hand, "Hello."
"I've come to thank you – for taking care of my son. I know that small promise you made me was never meant to include the actions you took. You said you would keep an eye on him, and I could not be more grateful. Jeremey told me what happened – how you had him go under his bed. How you stunned that Death Eater. Encouraged him that everything was alright..."
James looked down at his shoes and kicked the dirt, unsure how to accept the gratitude that Samuel was giving him.
"Is he doing alright?" James asked looking over at Jeremy who was hopping up and down, trying to get a proper look into the shed window while Lily chuckled.
"A few nightmares here and there, but he's bounced back." Samuel paused a moment before going on, "Dumbledore told me about the rest of your night. Are you doing alright?"
James coughed, a bit shocked. His experience that night was not something he had really shared. Lily was the only one who knew about the Cruciatus Curse, and it was unsettling having a stranger ask him how he was dealing with it.
"Umm, yeah. Yeah, I'm doing fine." James responded, and this time he actually meant it. He looked back over at the broom shed, Lily now boosting Jeremy up to look properly through the window as he pointed out different models to her. He smiled at the scene, "I've got good friends."
Samuel looked over at the pair also and smiled, "Pretty, too."
James laughed, nodding in agreement, "Yeah. That, too."
"We were lucky to have you there that night, James. Thank you. Truly." Samuel finished, clapping him on the shoulder. James looked up and gave him a small smile, nodding once.
The father then called his son back over, "Jeremey, we're making James late for his match. Come say goodbye."
Jeremey ran back over, Lily following with a smile on her face. "Bye, James! Good luck!"
"Wait a moment," Samuel raised his eyebrows at his son and asked a leading question, "Don't you have something to return to him?"
Jeremey looked down at the material wadded in his hand – James's shirt. "Oh yeah," he said a bit dejectedly, like he was hoping his father would have forgotten. He extended the shirt out to James, "Here's your shirt back. My mum washed it."
James surveyed the downcast look his whole body was projecting, and waved the shirt away, "You keep it."
Jeremy instantly lit up, "Really?!"
"Well, you're routing for Gryffindor aren't you?" He asked in a serious tone.
"Of course!" Jeremey exclaimed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world and insulted James would ever think otherwise.
"Then, you better show some House pride."
Jeremey grinned and shrugged into the shirt, the hem reaching his knees, Potter plastered across his back.
"Thank you!" He said grabbing his dad's hand and pulling him away, "Crush 'em, James! Go lions!"
James grinned back, and Samuel looked over at him again with a smile, "Thank you for that." He laughed, "Thank you for everything." Then the older man looked over at Lily with a sly smile, "I would hold onto this one. There are not many men like him." And he was pulled away by his over excited child.
The pair wasn't far from the Gryffindor stands now, and it starting to drizzle, thunder rumbling in the distance.
"That was nice of them to come by," Lily remarked.
James shrugged, still a bit uncomfortable with the gratitude he had received, "Yeah."
"That was nice of you too."
James shrugged again.
They had now reached the point where Lily would veer off to the stands and James to the locker room, and both had paused.
"Kiss for luck?" James grinned, falling into old habits as he shook himself from the exchange he had just had and tried to focus on the game at hand.
Lily laughed and rolled her eyes. And then to James's great surprise, she stood on her tip toes and gave him a soft peck on the cheek.
"Good luck."
And James grinned as he watched her head up the stairs to the bleachers high above them, pulling the hood of her scarlet rain slicker over her head.
The team stood assembled on the edge of the field, still under the towering stands. The storm that had been threatening to appear all morning was now in full force, rain coming down in sheets.
John York, their seeker and captain, had to yell to be heard over the down pour echoing off the bleachers above, "The ground is going to be soft. Give a hard push off and get possession first. Then, just play our game." He nodded around at his team, "Fog is getting thick – watch for bludgers. We can do this. Stay sharp." And with no more words he turned back to the field, taking a deep breath before leading his team out into their final match of the season.
Within seconds, all seven members were soaked through. James squinted up through the rain into the crowd above. Despite the terrible weather, the whole school had come out to see Ravenclaw take on Gryffindor. There were a few posters on both sides, clearly charmed to keep the rain away, for they shone clearly with no running ink. He spotted one that said, "Potter, Maple, and Hampton – kicking ass and chasing quaffles," Sirius and Peter standing above it, with ball caps on to keep the rain off their faces. The two waved enthusiastically down at him and James laughed. Clearly, the teachers had not noticed it yet.
Madam Hooch motioned the teams into the center of the field. Whatever she said to the captains was lost to the storm, but James saw York shake hands with the Ravenclaw bloke. Then the snitch was released, disappearing into the rolling fog, and James bent his knees as Hooch picked up the quaffle.
As she released the ball, James got a nice push off despite the soggy ground and was the first to the red ball. He tucked it under his arm and took off toward the hoops. He could only hear pieces of Emily's commentary as the rain pelted his ears and thunder rolled occasionally.
"Potter speeding – hoops. Passes to Hampton. To Maple. Back – Potter. TEN – to Gryffindor!" And all dressed in red and gold roared with applause.
An hour passed and Ravenclaw called for a time out. Gryffindor was currently in the lead, winning ninety to fifty, and the rain had now slowed to a drizzle.
"Alright," John York said addressing his chasers "You three are doing great, but you have to keep scoring. We've been in possession of the quaffle for much more time and we should be up by a higher margin. Plus, I can barely see a bloody thing out there." Though the rain had now slowed down, the fog still hung thick in the air. Both seekers had showed no signs of catching a glimpse of the elusive golden snitch, and the teams were buckling in for a long game. James nodded at his captain, pushing his sopping bangs off his forehead. York was right, they should have more points, Gryffindor's chasers had been in possession of the quaffle for probably three quarters of the game, they just couldn't seem to get many shots off.
Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air and she motioned the teams back.
"Alright then," York said mounting his broom, "Try staying tighter. If you get too spread out, you disappear into the fog. Get more shots on those hoops!"
As they took to the air, James could better hear the commentary since the rain had slowed.
"And it looks like the game is about to resume. Still no sign of the snitch. I can't even see the whole field in this bloody fog, I reckon the little gold ball is going to be almost impossible to find."
Madam Hooch released the quaffle once again and James sped after it, grabbing it and then quickly rolling over on is broomstick as a bludger broke through the fog just in front of him. Recovering from his maneuver, he spotted Matt in perfect position up ahead and fired the ball his way. A moment later, Gryffindor was up another ten points.
The score soon became 130 to 70, Gryffindor still holding the lead. Both seekers continued to circle the pitch, eyes squinted against the rain. Ravenclaw was now in possession of the quaffle and making their way down field, James in pursuit.
"And it's Ravenclaw chaser, Perry, now in Gryffindor territory. She shoots!"
Ravenclaw took a shot at the right hoop and as Gryffindor's keeper dove to stop the quaffle, a bludger came thundering through the fog from his now blind side. The ball connected, and James watched in horror as his teammate tumbled to the ground.
And James paid in full for that moment of distraction, as the second bludger broke through a patch of rolling fog just to his left. That too connected with its target, hitting the dark haired boy squarely in the head, shattering his glasses, and sending him off his broom, out cold.
The whole of Gryffindor House gasped as they watched two of their players go down within seconds. Down a keeper and their top scoring chaser, the red and gold had zero chances of winning unless York caught the snitch, and quickly.
The rain picked up again with a vengeance, and three quarters of an hour had passed when James began to stir. He opened his eyes, groaning at the pain in his head and it took a moment for him to get his bearings. He was lying on a cot, head wrapped in a thick bandage in a white tent under the stands shielded from the elements beyond its open flap. He rolled his head to the right and saw their keeper, Tim Jackson, still out cold in a cot across the room. Huffing, he turned his leaded head back towards the open flap and in a flash he saw Joey fly by with the quaffle in hand. The match was still going on!
Sitting up quickly he grabbed for his glasses that were newly mended and shoved them onto his face, moving to stand.
"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomphrey yelled hurrying over, "What in the bloody hell are you doing? Lay back down!"
"I've got to get back in there." He said nodding towards the field, and quickly regretting it as his head spun a bit.
"You most certainly do not." She scolded, hands on her hips, "You hit your head! You fell off your broom. You can't play!"
"Sure I can," James insisted moving to his feet, "I'm fine, see?" And he deliberately walked in a straight line.
Madam Pomphrey gave him a hard glare, but he snatched his broom and moved back out of the open tent, into the pouring rain.
It took a few seconds, but he heard their commentator, Emily Eckle, the moment she spotted him marching back out.
"Is that – ? It's POTTER! James Potter of Gryffindor is returning to the game!"
All at once it seemed the entire stands capacity turned to look at him. After a breath, there was a deafening uproar from the crowd, and James signaled Madam Hooch for a time out.
Joey was the first to reach him and she dismounted her broom at a run, engulfing him in a hug.
"Thank Merlin you're back. Are you alright?"
James shrugged, "Well, I've been better."
John York reached him next, "Potter, thank god! What did I tell you about watching for bludgers?! Pay bloody attention!" the captain scolded.
James ignored the lecture; his pounding head was punishment enough. "What's the damage?" He asked bluntly. With no keeper and just two chasers for close to an hour, he knew it couldn't be good.
"300 to 150," Matt spoke up, "Ravenclaw."
Madam Hooch blew her whistle, waving both teams back to the field.
"Well then, it seems we have some catching up to do," James said simply, mounting his broom.
York quickly gave the plan before the game resumed, "David, you're on the hoops. Bobby, try and protect the rest of our players from those bludgers, please. Matt, Joey, and James – get on that quaffle!"
The team collectively nodded and flew into position, met by another huge roar from the Gryffindor stands. As soon as he was in the air, all pain faded from James's mind and he became completely focused, even the noises of the crowd were drowned out. He did some quick calculations, figuring out the points needed to win. Gryffindor's final score could not be more than twenty points behind Ravenclaw if they wanted to win the House Cup. But if they wanted to win this match and take the Cup – the perfect season – Gryffindor needed to score at least one goal and hope York could catch the snitch.
Madam Hooch released the quaffle and once again James didn't fail to retrieve it. He moved quickly downfield, dodging two blue chasers before he passed to Joey and crossed the field at an angle towards the hoops – a simple give and go. She caught it and fired it right back at him, allowing him to take a shot at the left sided hoop. It had all happened in just a matter of seconds.
"Potter, SCORES!" Emily yelled into the mic, "That's ten points to Gryffindor, let's not count them out of this game yet!"
As Ravenclaw took possession of the quaffle James knew that Gryffindor had to match any points Ravenclaw now scored and York had to catch the snitch if they wanted to win.
"And that's Shotwell moving up field towards Gryffindor' hoops, guarded by beater David Reese. Passes to Perry. Who shoots!... And Reese, our beater turned keeper, makes a beautiful save! Who would have thought, a Gryffindor beater stopping the quaffle!"
Matt Hampton took possession of the quaffle from David and quickly moved back downfield, passing it to Joey. But Ravenclaw had little trouble recovering the quaffle after a nicely aimed bludger came for Joey's blood. This time David wasn't quite so lucky on the hoops when Ravenclaw took their shot, and the red ball sored through the hoops.
"And that's ten points to Ravenclaw, bringing the score 310 to 160."
A few minute later, neither team had scored, the quaffle being stripped back and forth brutally by the six chasers on the field. After Joey knocked her broom into Shotwell's, causing him to fumble the quaffle, James was back in possession. Just as he swerved to dodge a bludger, he heard Emily's voice ringing through the stands and his heart skipped a beat.
"And it looks like both seekers have caught site of the golden snitch! York, of Gryffindor, in the lead!" She yelled.
James realized that York had decided to end the game. The teams would tie, but ultimately Gryffindor would win the Cup. But James didn't want to tie. He came to win, to have a perfect season – something Gryffindor hadn't done in decades. He had to score before John caught that snitch.
The usual frozen silence that normally filled the stadium when two seekers raced for the snitch was nowhere to be found as people caught sight of James and realized he had no intentions of stopping to watch things unfold. Those who knew anything about quidditch knew that James had to beat York to the hoops before he came up with the snitch.
"Come on, Potter!" Sirius boomed, his head moving between York and his best friend, each closing in on their prey.
James bent low on his broom, almost parallel with the handle as he shot further down the field, doing an easy roll to avoid a Ravenclaw chaser, and coming out of the maneuver throwing the quaffle as hard as he could.
As he released the red ball, another nicely aimed bludger came rolling through the fog and clipped his shoulder, knocking him off balance. Hanging from his broom, it wildly made a beeline for the ground, and James heard the crowd going wild. He wasn't sure if it was for Ravenclaw's keeper making a nice save or for their beater who once again managed to knock James off his broom. He wasn't sure if it was Gryffindor applauding him or York. Or maybe it was the Slytherins, glad to see James Potter fall again.
The soggy earth quickly approached him. And when James was just a few feet from the ground, he let go of his broom completely and moved into a bit of a tuck roll, softening his collision with the drenched field. He laid there, sprawled on his back, the crowd filling the air and looked up. John York was holding the snitch in his fist high above his head, his remaining Gryffindor teammates flying towards him. York had caught the snitch, clinching the Cup. But had he, James, made the shot, winning the match?
Emily, having jumped out of her seat as the match closed, repositioned the mic and read Madam Hooch's hand gestures.
"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" She yelled over the roaring crowd, "James Potter scores just moments before John York catches the snitch! FINAL SCORE 320 to 310 – GRYFFINDOR!"
As these words reached James's ears a stupid grin broke over his face as he lay in the mud, face being pelted with large lazy rain drops. Gryffindor had won the match. They had won the Cup. The perfect season!
Moments later the drenched scarlet team descended from the air and reached James. Fellow chaser, Matt Hampton, pulled the dark haired boy to his feet and engulfed him in a hug "Beautiful, Potter. Beautiful!" He yelled into his ear over the deafening crowd.
York too pulled him into a quick hug, "Great shot, Potter" he grinned, ecstatic.
"Great catch, captain."
And the team shared just a few more moments of private elation before the crowd stormed the field.