Chapter Eight: Fraying Tempers and Fuelling Rivalries

There was a sudden flurry of excitement around mid October, when the first Quidditch match of the season was announced - and suddenly the castle was awash with Quidditch fever.

Gryffindor was to play Slytherin on the second Saturday of the month (thankfully no where near a full moon night) and Remus was rather looking forward to it. He had never seen a live Quidditch match before - his family were too poor to buy tickets - though he and his father had avidly followed the fortunes of the Tutshill Tornadoes in the fixtures in the Daily Prophet for years.

His mother - though knowing very little about Quidditch (though Remus, in truth, knew little more) - was a follower of the Holyhead Harpies and Remus thought of them as his "second team". Not that he would ever mention that to James and Sirius - who would be very sneering of his supporting a Quidditch team made up entirely of witches. The Harpies were OK for girls to support, Remus had heard James say one day - but they weren't a serious team … They had won the league over twenty times … but they still weren't a serious team.

Sirius and James supported the Wimbourne Wasps and the Falmouth Falcons respectively and, unlike Remus, had both attended many league games. 'My family have their own box at the Dartmouth grounds,' Sirius said, with a casual and haughty shrug of his shoulders, 'they usually play the league finals there - we always go.'

'Blimey,' James looked impressed, 'we just follow the Falcons around. My dad can always get good tickets though. We prefer it when they play close to home - but we did see them smash the Appleby Arrows into the ground at the grounds on the Yorkshire Moors one time. They beat them 450 to 170 … and they didn't even catch the snitch. It was the best thing I ever saw. It lasted two days.'

'We have sleeping quarters and bathrooms in our private box,' Sirius said. 'We were at the league final that lasted a week, three years ago - we had to call our house elf in to cook for us … it got a bit annoying actually, living in those four walls - a bit like being in a prison cell.'

'A prison cell with sleeping quarters, bathrooms, servants and entertainment right outside the door.'

But Sirius only shrugged his shoulders and looked haughty once again.

The boys were particularly interested in the new Gryffindor line up for the season. The house's legendary beaters, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, had left at the end of the previous year - and no one was quite sure how the team would fare without them. They had been on the team since their second year - when their equally legendary older sister, Molly, had been made the Quidditch Captain in her final year (people had said she was good enough to play for England, but she had since got married and had a baby instead). At first there had been an outcry when she put her brothers in such prime positions - and them being only second years and all. But all talk of nepotism and sour grapes grumbling had been knocked right on the head from the Prewett twins' first outing … But now they were gone, there were no more Prewetts left in the school and it was unlikely their replacements could live up to their legacy.

But still - the first years were hopeful that the team the Quidditch Captain had put together would still get the job done. Alexander Wood was supposed to be a very strong Keeper and Henry Bell headed up a squad of excellent chasers … It was just the unknown quantity of the new beaters - especially as, due to failing his NEWTS, Ludo Bagman had returned for an extra year and would still be playing for Slytherin. People said Ludo was good enough to play for England… and it was him these untested Gryffindor beaters would be up against.

...

As the day of the match grew nearer, the sense of expectation in the castle heightened and scuffles began to break out between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Filch could often be found between lessons going spare at yet another incident of magic in the corridors. But even the threat of being dangled in chains by their ankles in the dungeons did nothing to quell the mounting rivalry (not least because everyone was fairly certain that Filch would not actually be allowed to carry out such a punishment - it sounded like the sort of thing McGonagall and Slughorn would put a stop to).

On the Tuesday before the match, a group of Gryffindor fourth years wound up in the Hospital Wing with leeks growing out of their ears. On the Wednesday, a group of Slytherin second years were found locked inside the Potions supply cupboard - where they had been helplessly banging on the door for three hours before they were rescued. On Thursday, James used a painting charm to daub 'Slytherin Stinks' on the wall outside the Potions classroom. The Slytherin boys all pointed their wands and sent sparks flying at the group of Gryffindors - who had to dodge behind a statue of Grendel the Grim to avoid them.

One spark hit Grendel's hand and it was knocked clean off. 'Blimey,' Sirius blinked at the damage, 'that was a proper curse - that one - who sent that?'

Peering out from behind Grendel's back - Remus noticed Severus looking very pleased with himself.

Lily was watching the whole thing with disdain. 'Oh really,' she sniffed, 'it's just a game…' Though no one else seemed inclined to agree with her.

Slughorn came out of his classroom, saw the painting on the wall, saw the damage to the statue and the cowering boys - and, with a flick of his wand, cleared up the whole thing. James was given a detention … Severus was not.

On the Friday, all out war seemed to break out across the school - and there were so many scuffles and skirmishes that the teachers could not keep up with handing out detentions and Madam Pomfrey could not keep up doling out cures. Lily ended up in the Infirmary with a pair of floppy dog ears poking out from under her red hair ( 'I don't even care about Quidditch - I couldn't care less about the stupid match,' she complained). Remus got submerged in a cascade of icy water when he was the first person through a door that had been booby trapped … only to discover that he had been hit by friendly fire, and it was James and Sirius who had rigged the door. ('You ruined it, Remus! That was supposed to get the stinking Slytherins,' James moaned, while Remus gasped and blinked and squelched and dripped.)

A Slytherin fifth year set up a tripping jinx on the marble staircase and took out a whole load of Gryffindor third year girls. In retaliation, some Gryffindor sixth years hid behind the suits of armour in the Charms corridor and hit every Slytherin who passed with a stinging jinx.

Petra Linehan was greatly perturbed when a hex from the Slytherin table at tea time transfigured her left arm into a waving octopus tentacle, and Peter - who had stopped off at the bathroom on the way to tea and found himself alone - got chased down the corridors by the Slytherin first years, once more firing sparks at him. He dodged around the corner, just as he felt a hex hit the trailing hem of his robe. His robes set on fire and he had to stamp them out. When he showed the burns to the other three, they all frowned.

'The first years did this?' Sirius asked, examining the burned away fabric. 'There weren't any older students with them?' Peter shook his head.

'We'll get them back,' James promised.

'We will - but - a first year shouldn't be able to do this,' Sirius said. 'What kind of first year knows these sorts of curses? It's well above our level.'

Remus remembered Severus's satisfied smile when his curse had hit and broken the statue … but he didn't say anything. He couldn't prove it was Severus doing this.

But the very worst incident of the day was when a full on battle broke out between the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years - down in the entrance hall - just as tea was finishing and everyone was headed back to their common rooms.

Coming out of the Great Hall, the boys ducked back behind the doors and peered around to watch. The seventh years were of age and almost fully qualified - their wands moved like blurs as they duelled, and hexes and jinxes were bouncing all around the hallway; only occasionally hitting the intended recipient and more often than not taking out an innocent bystander.

Red sparks, white sparks, green sparks all flew in every direction … and then, a hex from a Gryffindor wand and a curse from a Slytherin one collided mid air, bounced off each other and shot straight upwards… They pinged around, smashing repeatedly into each other and ricocheting off the walls until they both simultaneously hit the chandelier. There was an ominous creak - and a groan - and everyone stopped and looked upward … and then, amidst shrieks and screams and desperate scurrying to safety - the chandelier plummeted to earth and smashed onto the ground - it's crystals shattering and scattering all over the stone floors.

The boys watched in horror as McGonagall, Flitwick, Slughorn and Sprout all swept through the doors out into the entrance hall - McGonagall's lips were so thin they had practically disappeared. And then the boys gaped as none other than Dumbledore himself walked straight past them - and surveyed the damage.

With a flick of his wand he righted the mess. The chandelier coalesced back into one piece and then flew back up to the ceiling, screwing itself tightly in place. Everyone watched. Although the entrance hall was packed, and had been filled with screams and curses just moments earlier, it was now deathly silent. Some of the older students tried to melt away into the crowd.

'Stop right there, Blebbins,' McGonagall barked, pointing a trembling finger at a surly looking Slytherin. He came to a stop.

Dumbledore looked around at everyone and - in contrast to Professor McGonagall - he sounded perfectly calm when he spoke. Perfectly calm - but incredibly disappointed … And somehow that was worse than McGonagall's fury. 'This will not happen again,' he said. 'There will be no second warning. If we cannot have a civilised Quidditch tournament then there will be no Quidditch tournament. Rivalry is all very well and good, but when it ceases to be friendly, we will cease to tolerate it. All Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years in this hallway report immediately to my office. You can explain yourselves to me there. Everyone else - dismissed.'

There was a great hurrying and scurrying as everyone who was allowed to fled the scene, and the boys made their way up to the common room in silence.

...

The atmosphere in the common room that night was very tense. And Lily irritated a great many people by taking a holier than thou attitude and sniffing about how silly and immature the students had been behaving these last few days. Eventually, James snapped and threw an ink pot at her head. It missed - just - but she sniffed again, stuck her nose in the air and stalked off to the girls' dormitories in high dudgeon.

Remus could not say he was sorry to see her go.

The boys barely spoke to each other all night, and though in many ways silence was an improvement for James and Sirius, the crackling bad tempers just beneath the surface made Remus's head feel all prickly - the tension reminded him of the feeling of an incipient full moon.

When he couldn't take the glowering and the simmering and the sulking any more - he took himself off to bed. He pulled the curtains closed around his four poster and started to strip off his robes. He was just in his underwear, about to tug his t-shirt over his head, when he heard the footsteps that announced the arrival of his fellow first years … and from the mutterings they sounded like their mood had not improved since he had left them.

'Oh for Merlin's sake,' he heard James tut, 'why does he always do that?' And then - even with his t-shirt half over his head - he was suddenly aware of light flooding in. He yanked his t-shirt back down and stared in panic - to see James staring back at him. The other boy had pulled open his curtains - and now all the Gryffindor boys were looking in at him … and though he was fully covered now, he knew they must have seen … something .

Even if they hadn't seen the bite itself, his whole torso was covered in scars from where he attacked himself every full moon. Warm horror crashed in on him, making everywhere flush and burn and tingle, as he stared at the boys and they stared right back.

'What the hell happened to you?' James asked him, astounded.

Remus thought he was going to cry…

Sirius looked at him, saw the tell-tale tears starting to gather and the way Remus's lower lip was starting to wobble and felt a stab of pity for him. Remus might be a bit weird and standoffish … but having just seen what a mess his body was, maybe there was a reason for that. And he knew better than to pry into something that was private and painful - even if the others didn't. 'Come on, James,' he muttered roughly. He pulled the other boy away and then yanked Remus's curtains closed, hiding him away once more. 'Just leave it.'

'But what happened to him?'

'I don't know - and he doesn't want us to know, otherwise he would have told us. You wanted to know why he kept his curtains drawn - now we know. Leave it.'

Sitting in the dark again, hidden once more by his curtains, Remus bit his lip - and felt the tears fall silently down his face. 'He looks awful,' he heard Peter whisper - and he bit his lip harder. Peter didn't sound unkind when he said it - he sounded concerned … but it was still hard to hear.

'Shhh,' Sirius hissed. 'He's not deaf , you idiot.'

'Don't call me an idiot!'

'I'll call you what I like…'

And, much to Remus's relief, they descended into sniping at each other … But he still didn't move for several minutes and just sat on his bed, trying to stop crying, until long after all the lights had been switched off. No one said good night to each other that night.

...

And things were still awkward the following morning. Remus stayed in bed, hidden behind his curtains until he heard the others leave - but he could tell by the way they moved slowly and dragged their feet that they were waiting for him to appear. Perhaps they were wanting him to appear … but he didn't know if that was so they could apologise, or question him further or just pretend nothing had happened … but either way he couldn't face them.

Once their footsteps had finally disappeared down the staircase, he got dressed quickly … his heart rate picked up during the moments where he had to remove his pajama shirt and before he had got his t-shirt pulled safely into place. Although he had heard his fellow first years leave, he was still afraid that one of them was still lurking behind in the dormitory - would pull back the curtains at any moment and stare at his exposed scars once again.

Once he had his robes on, he tied his father's old Gryffindor scarf around his neck (his father had sent it by owl post as soon as Remus had written to him to tell him where he had been sorted - Lyall was delighted his son had followed in his footsteps … but they couldn't afford a brand new scarf) and then he went down to breakfast.

He sat as far away from the other three boys as he possibly could, and tried to hunch his shoulders and hide behind some large fifth years … but he could still feel the others throwing awkward glances his way every so often. He poured milk over his cereal and dug his spoon into the bowl, feeling more miserable than he had any morning so far at Hogwarts.

Though it wasn't just him; the whole atmosphere of the hall was somewhat dampened and subdued. It should have been festive, anticipation should be crisp in the air … But the teachers, mindful of the battle last night, were glowering out across the four house tables; the Gryffindors and the Slytherins were simmering and sullen and the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were deeply annoyed that there was a chance the entire Quidditch championship might get cancelled when their houses had done no wrong.

The Gryffindor team got up from the table - and there was a smattering of half-hearted applause as they headed out to the changing rooms. And then a short while later, the rest of the school left the hall, streaming out across the lawns and heading to the stands.

Once again, Remus tried to keep his distance from his fellow first years - and as a result he ended up sitting alone on the very top bench. Down on the pitch, the teams marched out, clasping their brooms. The captains were made to shake hands and then Madam Hooch blew her whistle and all fourteen players flew into the air.

Lower down the stands, Sirius ignored the start of the game - and twisted in his seat to look at the lonely little figure sitting miserably on the highest bench. 'You need to say sorry,' he said to James.

'About what?' James' eyes were glued on the players.

'About what you did last night. You've really embarrassed him.'

'I didn't mean to.'

'That doesn't matter.'

'Well how was I supposed to know he had bloody great scars all over his body?'

'You weren't. He didn't want you to know. But what you definitely weren't supposed to do was pull open his curtains like that. He kept himself private for a reason.'

'Oh, alright - look - I'll say I'm sorry after the match, OK?'

'OK.' He cast one last glance at the little boy sitting all alone, and then turned back to the game. Beside him, Peter was frowning. 'What do you think happened to him?' he asked.

'Something awful by the look of it,' James said. 'It was like he'd been attacked - by an animal or a man with a knife … although…' He frowned as well, looking thoughtful.

'What?'

'Well - some of the scars looked old, they were faded - and some of them were fresh. It was like - whatever is attacking him, keeps on doing it.'

'Well what could that be?'

'Alright, stop it!' Sirius sounded angry now - and the other two boys looked at him in surprise. 'Neither of you ask about them, understand?' He glared at them both fiercely. 'Whatever is happening to him is none of ours. If he wanted to talk about it - he would. We don't ask questions, we don't make assumptions, we just follow his lead and pretend they're not there. James will say sorry when the match is over and we don't talk about it again unless Remus ever brings it up. Understood?'

'But if he's in some kind of trouble … if someone's hurting him…' James started to say.

'What are we going to do about it? Look, James - you don't get it - your parents are nice. Not everyone is that lucky - you let people talk about home stuff in their own time, OK?'

James gave him a curious glance - as if it was suddenly occurring to him that Remus might not be the only one who had something to hide. 'OK…' He turned his eyes back to the game - but the unnatural silence that existed between the three of them hung over them like a heavy blanket.

…

High up in the stands, Remus tried to concentrate on the match. This was not how he had imagined his first ever Quidditch game: sitting alone, struggling to concentrate and having to keep biting his lip to stop himself from crying. He wished he could just be angry with James - the other boy had had no right to pull the curtains back like that … But he wasn't blaming James; he was blaming himself for being so weird and awkward that the other boys didn't like him, and for not being able to control himself on a wolf night - so he tore into his own flesh and left himself with the marks he had to hide. Yes - this was definitely his fault. And there was no way he could fix it.

Above his head, Henry Bell dodged a bludger and passed the quaffle to Bethany Ellshaw, who passed it backwards to Morgana Murrows. But a swing from Ludo Bagman's beater's bat and Morgana received a bludger full in the face. She dropped the quaffle, her nose bleeding copiously - and the ball was picked up by Slytherin Chaser, Elijah Smeeks, who streaked towards the Gryffindor goal.

At his posts, Alexander Wood readied himself for a save. The three Gryffindor chasers were hurtling after Smeeks (flecks of blood still flying through the air from Morgana) but he was still well out in front. Jack Spratt - one of the new Gryffindor beaters - sent a bludger his way, but Smeeks dodged it … and it hit poor Morgana instead. The crowd of Gryffindors groaned.

Then Smeeks was at the hoops, he lunged left - and Wood followed him - but he was only feinting and sent the quaffle soaring through the right hand goal. The Gryffindors groaned again … while the Slytherin end of the stands broke out in cheers, applause and cat calls.

'And Smeeks gets another goal - bringing the score up to 120 - 0 to Slytherin,' the announcer said over the hollering of the crowd. 'I've never seen Gryffindor get pulverised so badly in a first match of the season…'

But things did not improve. There could be no denying that Bagman was world class. Every time a Gryffindor chaser got hold of the quaffle he was there with a well aimed bludger to take it from them … and there was a Slytherin chaser close by to catch it. The Gryffindor beaters just could not keep up and, half an hour into the game, Gryffindor had taken hardly any shots on goal - meanwhile, Wood was tiring from constantly having to defend his posts.

In the next ten minutes, Slytherin put away another three goals. The Slytherin crowd were now jeering at the Gryffindors - singing nasty songs and chants (' Woods no good ' clap clap clap ' Woods no good ' clap clap clap. ' Gryffindor are really awful, they can't even see the quaffle, Murrows cannot catch a thing, that's why we love her in Slytherin ') and sending green sparks into the air with their wands, while the Gryffindors howled back at them.

Remus watched the whole thing through a fog of misery. He was so busy worrying about how he could avoid the other boys and what they must be thinking of him right now that the blast of Madam Hooch's whistle came as a surprise. Bethany Ellshaw had been awarded a penalty for Gryffindor due to cobbing (excessive use of elbows) from the Slytherin chasers.

The crowd grew quiet - tense and expectant - as she flew up to take it. She took aim - and it soared right past the Keeper and through the middle hoop. The Gryffindor crowd exploded in cheers ( 'There's only one Beth Ellshaw! ') While the Slytherin's sneered ( 'that's only one goal for the lions' ) and the announcer shouted the new score to the crowd: 'that's a goal for Gryffindor - but the score still stands at 150 - 10 to Slytherin.'

A moment later, Slytherin scored again - taking the points up to 160 -10. Slughorn was sitting in the middle of the Slytherin crowd, wearing green and looking delighted. McGonagall had her head buried in her hands.

And then: 'wait - was that the snitch?' the announcer said. McGonagall's head came up … the whole crowd went quiet again as the Slytherin and Gryffindor seekers both suddenly dived towards the earth, streaking like red and green bullets through the air. The little golden ball fluttered just a foot above the pitch, the seekers were shoulder to to shoulder - and then Jennifer Price for Gryffindor edged forward, she flattened herself to her broom, her hand came out and … Yesss! She had grabbed the snitch and flew back up to the air, her arm raised aloft in victory.

The Gryffindors cheered and waved their hats, and it was the Slytherins' turn to howl.

'And the final score is 160-160,' the announcer was yelling, 'it's a draw, Ladies and Gentlemen. First time out and Gryffindor and Slytherin are tied - that was one lucky escape for the Gryffindor team. Well done, Jenny...'

...

There was a mass exodus of the stands - the students streaming their way back up to the castle, after the match. The teachers, Remus noticed, were extremely visible and standing at regular intervals between the pitch and the school - as if to ensure no fresh outbreaks of violence occurred.

Remus, himself, waited until the stands were nearly empty before he left - and started to stump his lonely way back to the castle. Most of the students were back inside by now, the teachers were heading in … and he was straggling along alone at the back.

But as he reached the castle steps, he saw his three fellow first year boys milling around … and he had a horrible feeling that maybe they were waiting for him. He came to a stop and looked around, to see if there was anywhere he could escape to. Maybe if he made a mad dash for Hagrid's hut…?

But then Sirius nudged James and pointed, and Remus felt his heart sink as the boys made their way over to him. He looked around again, feeling his face burning bright red and suddenly knowing exactly how it must feel to be a trapped rat. But it was no use - the boys were upon him.

'James has something he'd like to say,' Sirius said to him, and nudged his friend again.

'I - er - yes…' James' face was as flushed red as Remus's was. 'I'm - er - well, I'm sorry. OK? i shouldn't have … I'm sorry. Alright?'

'Alright.' Remus folded his arms across his chest, clinging tightly to himself, and nodded. And then there was silence - and things became even more awkward.

'Well - er -'

It almost came as a relief when, angry with the Quidditch result, the Slytherin first year boys suddenly popped out from behind the greenhouses and sent sparks flying at the little group. It certainly eased the tension between the four of them somewhat. They all pulled out their wands and sent sparks flying back - and the air was thick with the crackling magic lights … and then Remus felt something heavy hit his cheek. He was knocked over - and his skin split open … and he felt something warm start to trickle down his face … he was bleeding.

Above his head, he heard Sirius give a roar of rage - there was the sound of someone being thumped … and then footsteps as the Slytherin boys scattered… and then the three of them were gathered around him helping him up. 'What happened?' he asked, putting his hand to his face and bringing it away to see the redness on his fingertips.

'One of those slimy gits sent a proper curse,' James told him, sounding outraged. 'Cut your face open - come on … let's get you to the Hospital Wing.'

...

Madam Pomfrey stared at them all in disapproval, when they appeared in the doorway to the Infirmary. 'Oh it's you, is it?' she said to Remus, 'what have you been doing?'

'Me? Nothing!'

'We were ambushed, Madam Pomfrey!' James told her. 'We really were just minding our own business and the Slytherins attacked us. One of them cut Remus's face.'

'What year?' she asked them, as she bundled Remus onto a bed and sat him down.

'It was the first years.'

'A first year did this?' She peered at the cut - and then sniffed in disapproval. She took out the orange ointment she smeared on his cuts after a full moon and rubbed it onto his cheek. 'Well, the good news is: it won't leave a mark,' she told him. 'It will heal in a couple of minutes - you can wait here until it's done.' And then she bustled off again.

The boys gathered around him. 'Did you hear that?' Sirius said, 'she was surprised a first year did this - that's a proper curse that cut Remus.'

'Slimy gits,' James snorted. 'We'll get them back.'

'But a first year shouldn't be able to do this … one of them is dealing with curses that children our age shouldn't know. We need to be careful.'

'Of the Slytherins?' James' voice was scornful.

Sirius gave a shrug, 'I'm just saying - we should practice a few hexes of our own before we go up against them. If we want to pay them back properly...'

'We could just leave it,' Remus suggested - his cheek was stinging less now. The ointment was working its magic. 'The match is over, things should settle down. Go back to normal.'

But James disagreed, 'this isn't about the match - this is about Gryffindor pride. We're not having them cut one of us open and getting away with it. They'll walk all over us for the next seven years if we do that.'

Sirius was nodding along. 'James is right,' he grinned a nasty grin, 'we'll look up some nasty hexes and then we'll ambush them right back.'

Remus looked at Peter, who seemed less keen to start something - and rolled his eyes at him. Peter smiled… and Remus smiled too. There was one thing to be said for getting hexed and sent to the Hospital Wing, though - at least the boys weren't thinking about his scars anymore.