Bandy: to pass from one to another or back and forth; give and take
February 25, 1976
The Gryffindor Chasers stole the sky when they played. They swooped around the pitch, so fluid and graceful and unified in their movements that it was hard to believe three separate minds were behind the coordination. They streaked and swooped in wide, intertwining paths among the other players, shooting the Quaffle from one to the other as though it were a part of them, much too fast and unpredictable for the other team to break their ranks. It was an act not even the Seekers' heart-pounding dives could quite compete.
James scarcely thought about what he was doing. He barely looked over his shoulder to assure himself his teammate was waiting before letting the great red ball roll of his fingers. He did not have to listen for the soft thud of leather-on-leather to know it had reached its mark. And without even looking up, he snatched the Quaffle out of the air again when it was dropped down to him.
The secret to their success was simple: an unerring trust that the others would be where they needed to be, ready to do what needed to be done, thus eliminating the faltering thought and hesitation that slowed down the other team. James was the best at it. He sent the Quaffle spiraling off into open air with no doubt it would reach its mark and was already speeding towards his position, ready to open his grip and take it up again without even watching its progress. And so he was the fastest, the most agile.
His blind trust made him the star of the team, propelled him to soaring victories.
"How can you do that?" Peter asked in amazement after the match, as the four of them hurried along a narrow passage, arms laden with butterbeer and sweets to impress the rest of their house with at the victory party. "You don't even look!"
James shrugged. "We're a team. We win together or lose together. If I can't trust them to catch my passes, we don't deserve to win."
"Did those borderline-modest words just come out of James Potter's mouth?" Sirius asked, feigning shock. "The very same bloke who, not ten minutes ago, was accused of being an overly conceited git with a head the size of Portugal by the lovely Miss Evans?"
"Stuff it, Padfoot," James muttered, shouldering a smirking Sirius into the passage wall.
If there was one thing James Potter was unwavering in, it was his trust. You couldn't win a game believing that someone on your team might let you down.
A/N: Ooo, prophetic. I hope the relevance of these prompt words is openly apparent in all of these chapters. Beyond the obvious literal definitions, that is. I often fail to convey the connections I make in my head, I think. But you are all quite intelligent, so I have faith that you pick up on what I'm getting at! :) Please review!