Chapter 12
The roars of the crowd echoed through the Quidditch stadium. Heart racing, palms sweating, Albus looked out onto the field. The screams echoed and caused his ears to ring. There was something magical—and nerve-wracking—about that first game.
Too bad Albus didn't make the team.
With stinging jealousy, the young boy waited for his older brother to walk out onto the field. It wasn't fair, he thought. All he ever wanted was to be a Seeker, like his father. He remembered the day that James had told their parents that he had become Chaser. His mother, who had been a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, was the most ecstatic of all; she always claimed that the Chaser was the best position on the Quidditch field. But the person Albus wanted to make the happiest was his father. They were different in many ways, and Albus was often jealous of the bond that Harry and James shared due to their similarities. If he were to become a Seeker, they would have a bond that James would never be able to match.
The first week of school had crushed that dream. He didn't think he had been that bad. Maybe it was the month he was banned from his broom in the summer; if he had only never played that ridiculous prank, maybe the extra practice would have given him the skills needed to make the team. Albus sighed deeply.
"You alright?" his cousin Rose asked. But before he could answer, she became distracted as the time finally emerged. Tonight, they were playing Ravenclaw. "Go James!" she cheered. She tucked her Weasley-trademark hair behind her ears and smiled at her cousin.
"Move over, Al!" said a voice from behind him, and he felt the weight of a person slide him over. Albus turned to see his sister—not too far from her was Hugo, who was trying to push his way through the crowd to find his seat with his sister and cousins.
Rose narrowed her eyes as she looked down the row. "Where's Roxie?"
Lily shrugged. "Sitting with her friends, I 'spose. Too good for us. There's Louis and Fred though!" She waved her older cousins over enthusiastically.
"Shove over, Hugo," Fred told his cousin in a teasing tone. "Ahh good—they haven't started yet. This one over here kept us late."
"Glad I made it," Louis said as he settled between Albus and Lily. "Had detention with Hodson. Fred, being the oh-so-excellent cousin that he is, waited for me."
Albus rolled his eyes and gave his cousin a nudge with his elbow. "Please don't turn into James."
"Oh, come off it," his sister giggled. "I think you're the only one here who hasn't had detention!"
"You've have detention? Already? Tell me you're kidding," said Albus.
"It really wasn't my fault. Molly was talking to me in Charms and I think Professor Averill was in a mood that day…"
"And what did Mum and Dad say?"
Lily's shoulders lifted in a shrug once more. "They said don't let it happen again. It's not like they can say much. Dad got his fair share of detentions when he was in school. He said not to tell that to James though…did you know he hasn't gotten one detention this year?"
"So I've heard," her brother responded dryly. At a blast of sound from the announcer, his attention turned back to the game.
"JAMES POTTER SCORES TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!" screamed the announcer's voice, causing the crowd to go wild. Beaming, James flew in a circle on the field as he took in his favorite sound in the world.
"He's doing so great!" Rose yelled over the noise of the crowd. Louis was on his feet, pointing down at the field to inform the people around him that the Chaser who just made the goal was his cousin.
"I wish Mum and Dad could see him!" said Lily. "He's brilliant!"
"Yeah…brilliant." Jealously seethed through Albus, flowing like the blood in his veins. He should be out there, not James. Or better yet, he should be chasing the Golden Snitch on the same field as his brother. He could picture it now: James could score goals as many goals as he desired, but it would be Albus who the crowd would go crazy for, the second they saw his eyes narrow in on the Snitch.
A part of him wished James would fall.
The piercing scream from his sister snapped him out of anger. Albus finally processed what he was seeing in the final moments of James tumbling down before falling onto the field. Even with hundreds of voices around him, he could have sworn he heard the thump his older brother made when he hit the ground.
Lily was the first one to break from the crowd. "Move out of the bloody way! That's my brother! James!" she cried. Albus quickly followed her, pushing past the wall of students with as much force as he could.
When they reached the field, it was clear that James was unconscious. Lily rushed down on the ground next his leg, which was twisted in way that it was not supposed to be. She was stopped by Professor McGonagall's firm grasp on her arm.
"Don't touch him," she said. "You could make it worse."
Tears were streaming down his sister's face. "Is…is he going to be okay, Professor?"
"Do something. Please, Professor!" Albus begged, his hands shaking once more.
"Back away, Lily," said a soft voice. Neville Longbottom, their Herbology Professor and one of their parent's dearest friends, pushed his way past the children. He pulled out his wand and muttered "Ferula." Bandages appeared out of nowhere and wrapped around his brother's broken leg.
McGonagall turned to MacMillian, who had just appeared, his face pale with worry. "Get ahold of the Potters. Tell them James was hurt in Quidditch and we're taking him to the Hospital Wing. The other children will be down there as well. Come, Albus and Lily," she told the boy and girl. After levitating James carefully, McGonagal along with Neville led the children down to the Hospital Wing of the castle.
"I'm worried, Al," Lily whispered so only he could hear.
"He'll be okay." Albus' voice cracked from the stress. He said the words to Lily, but he wasn't sure if he believed them himself. Sure, his bones were fixed; that took a spell that even he knew. But what if James had hit his head? He might never be the same, and magic might not be able to fix it.
As soon as they reached the hospital wing, McGonagall hurried back to her office. No one could Apparate onto Hogwarts campus without her. A few minutes later, she returned with Harry and Ginny, who ran into the room as fast as they could. "James!" Ginny cried, rushing to her son's bedside. He was still unconscious.
"What happened?" Harry demanded from anyone in the room who could give him an answer.
"Dad…he just fell. It was from out of nowhere. One second he was ready for the next play, and then…he was…he was..." Lily began sobbing again.
"Professor, how does he just fall?" Harry asked, his voice harsher now as he turned to McGonagall. "You know how good of a flyer he is. Someone had to have caused this."
"Harry," Ginny said softly, still by her son's side. "It could have just been an accident. You know how reckless he can be…"
"I was reckless too! The time I fell of was when there was a Dementor…we can rule that one out. And the other time was when my broom went mental when Quirrel tried to jinx me. What if someone has done that to James?" Harry was shouting now. Realizing this, he turned the other way, hiding his emotion the only way he could at the moment; there was no way he was leaving his son's side.
Ginny stood up from her position next to James to take her husband's hand. "Please, stop. Please. I'm sorry, Professor," she said to McGonagall. "It's been a fear of ours that someone would try to hurt the children because of Harry's position with the Ministry."
McGonagall nodded. Her eyes were soft, opposite of the stern look that they usually carried; she had a soft spot for Harry, even after all of these years. "Potter…you know we will do whatever we can to find out what happened. And we can discuss precautions we can take in the future to keep your children safe. But we must focus on James' recovery right now.
"Dad…I…" Albus said, but he stopped himself. How could he tell his parents that he was the one who caused James to fall? How could he have even thought about his only brother hitting the ground from one hundred feet in the air? He was too ashamed of himself to even admit that the idea had crossed his mind. His father, who had just placed a gentle hand on James' arm, had not heard him.
No one noticed the middle child run out of the room to be sick.