Chapter Sixteen: House Hero

When Remus returned to the common room after the full moon, he found Peter and James playing chess - looking for all the world like they hadn't moved since he had last seen them.

'What's going on?'

'I'm beating the pants off James.'

James tutted, 'the game's wide open. It's all to play for yet.' He scoured the board and then ordered his bishop to a new square. The little chess piece shook its head gloomily and then creaked off diagonally across the board.

Peter smirked, captured the bishop (with an audible 'I told you so' from the bishop itself) and - within the next couple of moves - had checkmated James' king. James looked glum. Remus smiled. 'Have you seen Henry Bell?'

'No. Why?'

'No reason.'

James shot him a suspicious look, but he only smiled mysteriously and went to sit with Sirius.

Sirius had the crossword out, but he wasn't really looking at it. He was tapping his quill on the page and his leg was jigging up and down. As was normal for him these days, he seemed to be fizzing over with nervous energy.

Remus sat on the arm of his chair. 'You alright?'

'Fine.' The answer came back very quickly.

'Hmm.' He reached out and put his hand over Sirius's - stopping the quill from tapping. 'How's the crossword going?'

'Good.'

'You haven't filled anything out,' he said, gently. Sirius stared at him.

'I checked the paper for you,' he blurted out. 'For an attack - there hasn't been another one.'

'Good. That's good. Thanks for checking for me.'

'I'm going to bed.'

'It's only early.'

'I'm going to bed.' He got up and bolted for the dorm. Remus sighed and followed him up.

…

Peter checkmated James for the third time that evening. 'How are you doing that?' James demanded crossly.

Peter shrugged. 'It's just obvious what you're going to do. You play the same game every single time.'

'Well, what do you do?'

'I adapt.'

'Hmm.' He frowned and stared down at the board, thinking about this and eyeing up the remaining chess pieces, trying to see what he could have done differently. He looked up when a shadow fell across him. Henry Bell was standing there.

'You're back on the team, if you want, Potter,' he said rather tersely.

James gaped at him, and then felt a grin start to spread across his face. 'How come?'

'Morgana's out cold in the Hospital Wing. A suit of armour fell on her. The mace … well, Madam Pomfrey's got a job and a half on her hands, fixing her up. She'll be fine - but not in time for Saturday. You in?'

'Of course!'

'Good. Practice tomorrow at six - don't be late.'

James waited until Henry was safely out of the way before he buried his knuckles in his mouth and gave a muffled scream of excitement. 'Did you hear that, Pete? Did you hear that? Did you hear that?'

'I heard that.'

'I'm on the team!' And he launched across the chess board, grabbed Peter in a celebratory half nelson and ruffled his hair until Peter squealed.

'Gerroff!'

'I'm on the team! Where's Sirius? I need to …' He dropped Peter - and bounded off up the dormitory stairs to go tell Sirius the good news.

…

'Do you ever think there might be something wrong with you?' Sirius asked. He and Remus were safely ensconced behind Remus's curtains, propped up by his pillows.

Remus gave a dark laugh. 'We know there's something wrong with me.'

'No there isn't.' He grabbed Remus's hand, under the covers, and gave it a squeeze. 'There's nothing wrong with you, and bollocks to anyone who ever says there is. But … I mean, apart from occasionally turning into a great, hairy monster…'

They both snorted.

'Do you think there's anything wrong with you?'

Remus considered this for a moment - thinking about all the wild thoughts and weird, sweaty feelings he had that made no sense at all but which were happening more and more regularly now he was a teenager - and how sometimes he wasn't even sure what his body might do next, but he definitely wasn't in control of it - and if anyone could see what it was he was thinking and feeling they'd probably lock him up in a padded cell in St. Mungo's and never let him out. And that was on top of the fact that he was a werewolf that melted cauldrons in Potions and was awkward and strange and covered in scars.

'...Yes,' he said eventually. 'Sometimes I think there is a lot wrong with me.' Though he would rather die than start listing what those things were.

'Me too.'

'I suppose everyone feels that way sometimes.'

'James doesn't.'

Remus snorted again. 'No - I don't suppose he does. But he is a special case. The odd one out. I bet Pete feels it.'

'I don't think what's wrong with me is what's wrong with Pete.'

'I don't think there's anything wrong with you.' And he squeezed Sirius's hand right back.

'You wouldn't say that if … Remus, I've done something really stupid …'

'What is it?'

But before Sirius could tell him, the door opened with a bang and James tumbled through - making as much noise as an engorged erumpment in mating season. 'Sirius, Sirius - you'll never guess … where are you? Remus?' The curtains were suddenly yanked open, light flooded in - and Remus and Sirius blinked in the sudden glare.

James stared down at them. 'What on earth are you both doing in there?'

'Nothing.' Remus detached his hand from Sirius's and folded his arms above the covers. 'Has something happened?'

And James remembered. He stopped boggling at them and instead scrambled onto the bed with them and started bouncing on his knees. 'Yes! Yes yes yes! I'm on the team. Morgana's out cold. I don't know what happened but I feel like kissing someone. Whichever god smiled down on me and took her out of the running - I owe them big time. I'm on the team - I'm going to play for Gryffindor - I'm…' He stopped bouncing and looked at Remus suspiciously. 'You knew!' He accused him. 'That's why you asked if I'd seen Henry.'

Remus laughed. 'Well - Morgana was in the hospital wing with me. And I didn't have to be a qualified Healer to see she wasn't going to be fit for Saturday.'

'Well why didn't you say something?'

'I didn't want to get your hopes up - in case Henry decided to do something different, or chose someone else.'

'Why would he possibly choose someone else?' He started to bounce again. 'No one is as good as me.'

Sirius and Remus exchanged an amused glance.

'I'm the youngest Gryffindor player since Fabian and Gideon Prewett - and everyone knows they only got their spot because their older sister was the captain.'

'I think they were pretty good in their own right.'

'But not as good as me! I did it, I did it, I did it!' He stopped bouncing again. 'Sirius - you haven't said anything.'

Sirius grinned cheerily - perhaps a little too cheerily. 'Well you haven't given me a chance to get a word in edgeways!'

'But you're happy for me?'

'Ecstatically. Congratulations, mate - you deserve it. You're gonna drive Slytheirn into the dirt.'

'I know!' And he bounced so hard he fell off the bed. 'Ow!' But then he popped up again, grinning - obviously none the worse for his tumble. 'I need to go to bed. I've got practice tomorrow - I need to get a good night's sleep.' He crossed to his own four poster, pulled his robes over his head - and then turned back to stare at Sirius.

'Aren't you going to go to bed?'

'Er -' Sirius glanced at Remus and then slid off the mattress. 'Of course.'

'Right - it's pretty weird you both being in there together.'

Sirius flushed. 'We were only talking.'

'About what?'

'Just stuff.'

'Well why can't you talk about stuff from your own bed?'

Sirius opened his mouth, and then closed it - looking like he didn't know what to say.

'Some of us don't want to yell across a dorm just to have a conversation, James,' Remus said. 'Some of us know how to use our indoor voices.'

James snorted. 'I speak at a perfectly normal volume.'

'Yeah - for a stone deaf bull elephant that just stood on a pin.' He received a pillow to the face. 'MMmpff!'

'Now give that back. I need to sleep. I have practice tomorrow.' He climbed into bed and switched off the lights (regardless of the fact that Sirius was not yet ready - and that Peter wasn't even there yet) and soon his loud snores filled the room.

But there was only stillness from Sirius and Remus - as the two boys lay in their respective beds and couldn't get to sleep for all the things worrying them.

…

James continued to be an exuberant bundle of unstoppable excitement for the whole of the next day. He bounced through the school, tumbled into classrooms, raced through the halls and yelled in the corridors, completely unable to contain himself.

It was all the other boys could do to keep up with him - and his good mood was infectious. They laughed at his antics and held him back from the worst of his excesses. 'You'll do us no good if you end up in detention, miss practice and get kicked off the team,' Sirius told him, as James scrambled over the banister of the marble staircase in an attempt to avoid the crowds. He hung perilously over the side, dangling face down above the entrance hall while Sirius grabbed the back of his robes and hoiked him back over to safety.

'They won't kick me off - there's no one else to play.' He tried to clamber over again - while Sirius and Remus restrained him. His face was shining like a great, sweaty cheese.

'Henry will find someone else to play,' Remus told him. He tugged James backwards, they overbalanced and all three of them toppled onto the floor in a tangle of limbs.

'Who?'

'Never you mind.' He stood up, brushing down his robes and attempted to look disapproving - though he was having to bite back his smile. 'But you won't be happy if - come broom up - some other second year is playing chaser.'

James snorted. 'Don't be soft - there's no one else in our year. Who's he going to choose? FlatuLily? Face it - Gryffindor needs me.'

'Right. So don't get detention.'

But, for all he was amused by James, Remus had not forgotten that all was not right with Sirius - and he kept shooting him worried glances, trying to figure out what was wrong. But Sirius was not giving anything away. He seemed to be in a much better mood today - happier than Remus had seen him in a while (but still maybe he was a touch too happy - his grin too wide, his tone too cheerful). He was confidently predicting that Slytherin would get absolutely hammered now James was on the team and appeared both delighted and smug at the prospect.

However Remus couldn't help but wonder what "something stupid" Sirius had done, which had been troubling him so greatly last night. But Sirius was determined to be in a good mood, was refusing to talk about it and (maybe this was just Remus being paranoid) refusing to meet Remus's eye.

So there was nothing he could do. Sirius had shut down; Peter and James were not even aware something was wrong … and James needed protecting from his own idiocy, if he wasn't going to lose his place on the team due to sheer high spirits. So Remus went along with the rest of them - and focused on James' good news.

Somehow - in no small part due to his friends holding him back (though no one was more astonished than them that they proved successful) James managed to get to the end of the day without getting detention, getting expelled and without Professor McGonagall strangling him.

When classes were over, he bolted down his tea (practically choking on the peas), ran up to the common room and dashed off his History of Magic homework and then - looking like all his dreams were coming true (and with his face still shining like a sweaty cheese) - he went up to the dorm to retrieve his Silver Arrow and went out to practice.

…

Henry Bell kicked things off by giving the team a pep talk in the changing rooms.

'You're lucky it's not still Wood in charge,' Jenny Price whispered to James. 'His team talks went on for hours.'

'Alright, men,' Henry Bell started.

'And women,' Bethany Ellshaw said.

'And women. We all know what's at stake here. Pride, honour, the glory of Gryffindor …'

'Rubbing Slytherin's noses in the dirt,' James added.

'That too. Now it's a bit of bad luck about Morgana and no mistake. We've been working on keeping things really tight, we three chasers, and now we have to introduce a new player right at the last minute. But Potter is an extraordinary talent…'

James didn't bother to even try and look modest.

'And Beth, it's up to us to try and get him into our rhythm. Asap. So that will be our focus. Johnson - I want you to go hard on Potter. No letting goals in, really make him work.

'Spratt and Levey, we're working on Potter's chasing so I want you to keep the bludgers away from him for now. You can target him next practice when we'll work on his dodging.

'Jenny - we're behind on points. That means the win is going to come down to you. We need that Snitch! But you have to wait until we're at least ten points ahead - otherwise we win the match but lose the cup. Spratt - I need you to play the role of the other seeker. Jenny needs to practice blocking.

'Alright - everyone clear? Let's go!'

They headed out onto the field; the sun was far to the west and the sky was painted a glorious crimson, as if showing its support for the team.

James mounted his broom and kicked off the ground. He felt the rush of the breeze in his hair and the pleasantly familiar lurching sensation as he soared upwards.

He did a loop the loop around Bethany, making her scream, and then zoomed off down the other end of the pitch. He circled the goalposts and then plummeted downwards in a steep dive until he was barely a foot from the grass - could practically count the blades - when he effortlessly pulled back up and started circling at player height.

'James - stop mucking around, I'm letting out the bludgers. Jenny, get ready for the snitch.'

Once all the balls were out, Henry threw the quaffle to Bethany, who passed to James. James flew towards the goalposts, but was nearly unseated by an errant bludger. He swerved, passed back to Henry and then flew forwards to be in place to score.

They practiced for over two hours; the sun sunk down below the horizon and the first twinkling stars began to appear in the sky. Eventually, Henry blew his whistle and they flew back down to earth. James was breathless and glowing with excitement.

'That was really good,' Henry told them. 'Potter, you're doing really well. Fly like that on Saturday and Slytherin won't stand a chance. Same time tomorrow, everyone.'

…

After he'd taken a shower, James returned to his friends to regale them with stories of his skills, prowess and general all round brilliance.

'I'm happy for you,' Sirius said to him. 'You deserve it, mate. Just make sure you show those Slytherins.'

'I'm going to destroy them. By the time I'm done, there'll be so little left that their remains will have to be buried in match boxes.'

'Good - because if my little snot of a brother is given something else to gloat about…'

'Something else?' Peter frowned. 'What's he gloating about already?'

'...Nothing. Just … in general. You know what a dick he is.'

Remus frowned. But Sirius still wouldn't meet his eye, and he didn't want to say anything in front of the others - so he let it slide and congratulated James instead. 'Just don't do anything to muck it up,' he warned.

But he didn't muck it up, the rest of the week's practices went as successfully as the first and the morning of the Quidditch match dawned bright and clear. And when the boys walked into the Great Hall that morning, they were met by a sea of scarlet and gold - and everyone from the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables burst into applause at the sight of James. He blushed as red as the Gryffindor scarves - and looked very pleased with himself.

Though the Slytherin table - awash in green and silver - did their best to catcall and boo and jeer over the noise. Regulus and his friends stood up on the bench and made very rude hand gestures at the four of them.

'What a knobber ,' Sirius growled. But James' good mood could not be punctured - and he walked through the Hall beaming and shaking hands as if he was the newly elected mayor of Hogwarts. They took their seats and reached for toast and porridge, though James kept popping up and waving to people - his face split in two by the enormous grin which stretched from ear to ear.

'I think I might be more popular than FlatuLily now,' he said. 'That's good - that's how it's supposed to be.'

'No one's calling you "Hellraiser Potter" yet, though,' Remus smiled. 'You need to have some breakfast.'

'I'm too excited to eat.'

'You need to keep your strength up - you'll play better if you've eaten.'

'Yeah, we're not losing to Slytherin just because you're fainting with hunger. Have some kippers, you nutter,' Sirius said to him, shoving the plate of kippers towards James.

There was another tumultuous round of applause as Bethany Ellshaw and Jennifer Price entered the Hall together. They looked just as pleased as James had - but a lot more embarrassed.

'Fine, I'll have some toast,' James yelled over the noise, 'Sirius, mate - get those stinking fish away from me before I upchuck.'

Sirius pushed away the plate of kippers and grabbed some toast - handing that to James instead. 'Not too much - you don't want to feel sluggish. Just enough to keep you going.'

'Yeah yeah…' And despite saying he was too excited to eat, he proceeded to polish off the entire rack of toast and then went for a bowl of porridge.

'Not too much!' Sirius warned again. 'You don't want to be so fat your broom can't get off the ground… Ow!' James had smacked him around the back of the head.

About twenty minutes later, Henry Bell stood up and called for the team to leave. James practically danced out of the Hall as, once again, three quarters of the school gave him and his teammates a thunderous round of applause.

'We better get down there,' Sirius said to Remus and Peter. 'Get good seats.' And so, trying to get the jump on the crowd, they abandoned their breakfast and made their way down to the stands - arguing about where would be the best place to sit, the whole way down.

…

Inside the changing rooms, James pulled his bright red Quidditch robes over his head, feeling like he was about to burst with pride. He had spent the night before polishing his broom and clipping the twigs and now it was in tip top condition and ready to give him the game of his life.

'Right team,' Henry said. The chatter in the rooms died down. 'Everyone listen up. This is going to be a tough game, no point in pretending it won't be - Slytherin are good… no, they are, Potter,' he said as James snorted in derision, 'and pretending otherwise won't help us win. We have to know the enemy and we have to respect them - their talent if not themselves. This will be tight. But I think we can do it . We know what we need to do - we've had some brilliant practices lately; we just need to keep it up. So let's go out there and win! For Morgana - for Gryffindor … and for ourselves. We can be champions; we just have to want it the most.'

James wriggled on the bench, unable to keep still in his excitement. He was pretty sure he wanted this more than anyone had ever wanted anything.

…

Once the stadium was full and an air of tense, expectant excitement hung over the whole crowd - the doors to the changing rooms were thrown open and the teams marched out. There was a roar of sound, as the whole place erupted in cheering. James beamed and waved merrily to the crowd. He peered around looking for Sirius and the others - and found them right near the top of the benches. He gave them a thumbs up - and the boys waved back. They were each waving a massive flag with a lion on it and the words "Potter for President" emblazoned across the top.

The two teams gathered on the halfway line, and Madam Hooch made the captains shake hands. Though from the grimaces on their faces it looked like Henry and Elijah Smeeks were more intent on breaking each other's fingers than showing good sportsmanship.

'Alright that'll do - mount your brooms.'

All fourteen players straddled their broomsticks - and then Madam Hooch blew her whistle and, with another deafening surge of sound, they were off. James did a quick lap around the pitch, he flew out across the crowd - swooping over the boys so he could wave to Sirius again, and then dive bombed FlatuLily - who screamed and threw herself on the ground.

'Potter - stop mucking around!' Henry yelled. He threw the quaffle to James, who snatched it out of the air, dodged around a Slytherin chaser and then passed it to Beth, then he flew forward towards the goal.

'My goodness - look at Potter, he can really fly!' The commentator shouted into his megaphone over the roars of the crowd. 'The youngest Gryffindor player in seven years - the last being the legendary Fabian and Gideon Prewett. And what an exciting new talent he is - he's going to be one to watch…'

And James immediately proved him right by scoring the first goal of the match - sending it sailing past the Slytherin keeper and directly through the middle hoop. He celebrated by divebombing the Slytherin crowd - while Sirius and Remus and Peter screamed themselves hoarse in the stands.

'He did it, he did it, he did it!' Sirius jumped up and down, hugging Remus with one arm and using his free hand to make very rude gestures indeed at the Slytherins. 'Look at Snivellus's face!'

And, indeed, Snape was sitting among the ocean of green, wearing a very bitter look on his face. Peter trained the omnioculars on him. 'He looks jealous,' he said. 'He looks like he's chewing on a lemon. Foul git.' And he climbed on the bench and copied Sirius's hand gestures.

'Peter, get down!' Remus laughed, trying to tug him back down.

'Hang on - gerroff, Remus - they're all wearing something … they've got badges. The Slytherins.'

'What do they say?' Sirius asked, squinting. Without the omnioculars he could not see as far.

'Hang on - lemme just … "Potter stinks".'

'Oh no…' Remus sniggered. 'Not the mother of all insults. That will break his heart.'

The other two boys snorted with laughter. 'Bloody Slytherins,' Sirius said. 'If you're gonna be evil gits, you should at least be competent evil gits … I wonder where I can get one of those badges.'

What are you gonna do with it?'

'Pin it to the back of James's robes…'

'Sirius!'

'Only when he deserves it. You know - like when he says something stupidly big headed.'

'Which is always,' Remus said.

'Which is always,' Sirius grinned in agreement.

Out on the pitch, Madam Hooch's whistle blew again and the game resumed - but within moments James had the quaffle again and had scored another goal.

'He is inspired,' the commentator yelled. 'Look at him go - this is raw talent at its finest.'

'Snivellus looks like he's going to puke, he's so angry!' Sirius shouted at the others, once more dancing in glee.

But the Slytherin team was getting annoyed; the beaters started to target James specifically, and he was blocked from scoring next time he was near the goal, and then had to swerve sharply. With bludger after bludger being sent his way, he flew off in a strange rollercoaster ride around the stadium - unable to join back in with the chasing.

Elijah Smeeks took advantage of his distraction and scored two goals himself. The Gryffindors howled in rage, and it was the Slytherins' turn to cheer. And then - even though he didn't have the quaffle - the beater, Miles Pucey, smacked a bludger right into James' face. There was the crunching sound of breaking glass and breaking bone. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and awarded a penalty - while the Gryffindor crowd screamed and swore at Pucey (even McGonagall was shaking her fist).

There was a brief timeout given, while James had his glasses and nose fixed by Madam Pomfrey - and then he flew up to the goalposts, to take his penalty. The crowd went quiet. Sirius and Remus were clinging onto each other so hard they were cutting off circulation. Peter had his fingers in his mouth and looked like he had stopped breathing …

And then James threw the quaffle. The Keeper lunged for it - fumbled - and it arced gracefully through the left hand hoop. James punched the air. Sirius and Remus and Peter screamed in the stands and waved their flags.

But it wasn't long until Slytherin equalised. The match was fast and furious and getting increasingly dirty - and the teams were evenly matched and equally desperate for the win.

Meanwhile, Jenny was spending the match marking the Slytherin seeker. With Gryffindor being behind in points overall, she had to hold off catching the snitch until they were at least ten points ahead in this match. But that meant there was no point in her hunting for the snitch herself, she just needed to stop her opposite number from getting it until the chasers had scored enough goals.

But everytime Gryffindor pulled ahead, Slytherin would equalise within minutes. The roars and screams of the crowd made it difficult for her to hear the commentary and work out what was going on … and she just concentrated on blocking the Slytherin seeker - constantly cutting him off and forcing him to change direction.

James scored again - and then Henry. And Jenny looked around, hoping to see a flash of gold. Twenty points ahead and she could catch the snitch herself. But within minutes Smeeks had scored again - and then ten minutes later he scored once more. And it wasn't until the quaffle soared through the hoops a second time, pulling Slytherin equal that …

'Was that the snitch?' The commentator asked. There was an intake of breath from the crowd. There was a flutter of wings and a glint of gold right down near the ground. The Slytherin seeker dove towards it. Jenny followed - flat against her broom and with her arm reached out to smack his grasping hand away.

But he was going faster - and she wasn't going to get there in time - and he was about to get it and…

High above them, James dropped the quaffle - launching it downwards towards the seeker's head. It hit him, he was flattened - and swerved about a bit, looking dazed, and then crashed into the ground … and in the meantime the snitch had vanished.

Madam Hooch awarded a penalty to Slytherin for blatant cheating from James. 'Come off it, miss!' he howled. 'It was an accident - I dropped it!'

But she didn't believe him - and the Slytherin team booed and jeered at him and flashed their badges (though the Gryffindors were applauding), and Smeeks took the penalty and put the quaffle past Johnson.

Jenny went back to her marking. Bethany Ellshaw scored another goal for Gryffindor. The teams were equal again. Two more goals were scored apiece and the score was seventy - seventy before the snitch put in another appearance. This time Jenny was first off the block - and she swerved her broom in front of the Slytherin seeker, stopping him from flying. He tried to duck under her, and she looped around and blocked him again … and once more the snitch disappeared, and the Slytherins howled in disappointment.

The game was getting really filthy now. The beaters were aiming bludgers directly into the chasers' faces - whether they had the quaffle or not. The Slytherin goalkeeper grabbed Beth Ellshaw in a headlock - and when Madam Hooch awarded a penalty - claimed he thought her head was the quaffle.

Bethany scored her penalty. But James flew straight at the Slytherin seeker in retaliation and kicked him in the chin - and Slytherin took a penalty of their own, and scored.

The crowds below were screaming. McGonagall seemed to have lost all sense of propriety. Her hat had fallen off, her face was twisted up and she appeared to be yelling obscenities at the Slytherin team … though of course no one could hear her over the noise.

The score was eighty - eighty, they had been playing for an hour and a half and it seemed like there was no end in sight. And then - there was a glimmer of gold down by the Gryffindor goalposts.

Once again, the whole stadium held its breath - as two bullets, one scarlet, one emerald, zoomed down the pitch.

Jenny was as flat as she could make herself - willing herself to get there before the other seeker, to be able to head him off again. But he was edging it. She wasn't going to be able to get between him and the snitch. She couldn't block him - and the only way to stop him was to catch it herself. She threw herself forward on her broom. If she couldn't win them the cup, she would at least win them the match. Her hand reached out - so did the Slytherin seeker's…

Everyone stood stock still waiting to see the outcome. The deafening roars were silenced and, despite the size of the crowd, you could have heard a pin drop inside the stadium.

If Jenny caught it, Gryffindor would only be 150 points ahead. Slytherin would take home the cup … everyone held their breath. Even the players seemed to have come to a stop - and were hovering in mid air, fixated on this final moment. The Gryffindors all wore the same expression of defeat - as they saw their chances crushed before their eyes.

All except James, who took advantage of everyone's distraction to seize the quaffle and streak off unnoticed towards the other end of the pitch, towards the keeper and the Slytherin goal. He flew past the Slytherin chasers who paid him no mind, so entranced were they in the thought of their imminent victory.

And then the commentator said: 'what is Potter doing?' And - one by one - the crowd looked away from the race to the snitch to watch James.

He glanced over his shoulder - saw Jenny closing in on the little golden ball - and squealed his own broom to a halt and then lobbed the quaffle as far and as hard as he could.

It soared straight past the keeper and tippled through the middle goal - just as Jenny smacked away the Slytherin seeker's hand and caught the snitch, grimacing as she thought she had lost them the cup.

But instead of the roars of jubilation from the Slytherin crowd that she expected, there was just baffled and confused silence from all the onlookers. People weren't quite sure what had just happened - weren't quite sure what the score was… And then the commentator said, in a shaking voice, 'I don't believe it. Potter scores a final goal just as the snitch is caught. The score is 240 -80 to Gryffindor. And with that final goal - James Potter has won Gryffindor the Quidditch cup!'

There was another moment of stunned silence. And then came the roaring - the screams and yells and cheers from the Gryffindor supporters. And James' face was as red as his robes, and McGonagall was sobbing into a Gryffindor flag and the whole team were flying back to earth in a cheering, chanting many armed hug and no one could still quite believe it. But there was Dumbledore handing the cup to a beaming Henry Bell, who handed it to James - who raised it above his head and grinned like a maniac as the crowd all screamed at him.

And then the Gryffindor supporters surged onto the pitch, and James was picked up, still clinging to the cup, and borne aloft on a sea of scarlet shoulders and carried back to the castle - like the hero that he was.

Sirius grabbed Remus's hand, and began to run full pelt down the stands towards the pitch. Remus just had time to turn back and grab Peter's sleeve and pull him along with them as they chased after the crowd - and after James.

And the Slytherins were left where they were - looking sour and defeated.

…

The sounds of the Gryffindor celebration could be heard raging on for hours, all over the castle (they aimed to be so loud the Slytherins could hear them in their dungeon).

Up in the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey tutted to herself, thinking that the students had no idea how dangerous celebrations could be. She'd wager everything she had that there would be more than a few of them under her care before the morning - suffering from magic mixed with too high spirits. That was how disasters happened. She'd seen it enough times.

There was a groan from down the ward, and she hurried to the bedside of the Infirmary's current sole occupant. It seemed Morgana Murrows was waking up.

She groaned again, and her eyes fluttered open and she blinked in the sudden light. 'Ma -Madam Pomfrey? What's going on? What's that noise?'

'That would be your fellow Gryffindors partying. I'm afraid you missed the Quidditch final, but no doubt you will be pleased to know your team won without you.'

'The final? What? How can it … be Saturday?' She looked confused, like the thinking was making her head hurt (though that might have been the damage caused by the falling mace).

'Peeves pushed a suit of armour on top of you - you've been out cold for days.'

'Peeves?' She frowned deeply, struggling to think about the last thing she remembered. 'Peeves? …No …Madam Pomfrey, it wasn't Peeves who pushed the suit of armour.'

It was the matron's turn to frown. 'Then who was it?'

…

High up in Gryffindor Tower, Sirius wrapped his arm around James - grinning in delight. 'You were amazing, mate,' he said - having to shout over the noise of the party. 'No matter what happens - you were amazing, and you deserved your place on that team.'