The Marauders: Year Three | #Wattys2016

The 1973-74 Gryffindor Quidditch Team

The 1973-74 Gryffindor Quidditch Team

November's cold air brought icy frost along the window sills. Peter was relieved everyday to find himself human when he woke up and James sat about each night with his antlers sprouted up on his head, reading the Zoobook that Charlus had sent him. Remus's wheelchair was replaced by a couple of crutches, which were, in many ways, more irksome and slower than the chair. Sirius walked carefully down each and every step on the staircase, making sure none of the tricky ones caught Rey by surprise on his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, even if it meant missing it himself. Missing breakfast was much less of a big deal than it sounded, though, because days they missed it, Peter and James would meet them at their first class with a stack of toast covered in marmalade that he'd snuck out of the Great Hall and they'd sneak bites when the professors weren't looking.

Along with the cold and Remus's mobility, November also brought something else - Quidditch. The try-outs were, as promised by Andy Woodhouse, that weekend and James was excited and nervously pacing about the dormitory the day of as the other three got ready. Once again, Peter and Remus were going to watch from the stands as Sirius and James tried out. Remus magicked his and Peter's shirts to say GO JAMES AND SIRIUS! in blinking gold letters. The pitch was crowded with eager onlookers as they made their way down and Sirius waved to Remus and Peter as James pulled him along into the locker rooms.

Andy Woodhouse and the others that were trying out had gathered about in there, getting changed into try out robes and prepping their broomsticks. Sirius clutched the broom that Charlus and Dora Potter had given him, his fingers tight 'round the handle. He had taken meticulous care of the broom, polished it's handle and trimmed it's twigs every week since he'd pulled the wrap off it. It meant the world to him, that broom.

They clambered onto the pitch and Andy organized them up into groups. "Which position are you trying out for, Potter?" he asked, "Seeker or Chaser?"

James had been so worked up over animagi and centaurs and prophecies and sneaky professors and hitting on pretty girls in Divination class that he'd completely forgotten his great struggle of choosing a position to play. Put on the spot, he'd hoped he would have found his voice saying one or the other on instinct, and instead what came out was a long and guttural, "uuuhhhh..."

Seeker had always been his dream - it's been what he had claimed he would one day be since he was an ickle wee thing and Charlus had first begun embedding the love of quidditch into him. He used to play about on a toy broomstick in the living room, long before he could really fly, and chase after Charlus, who would shout he was the golden snitch and laugh as baby James zipped about after him 'round the couch. He'd grown up chasing after tiny muggle golf balls painted gold... Charlus would throw the ball as hard as he could and James would fly across the field behind the Potter house as fast as possible to catch it. That was how he'd become so good at flying, how his love for the game had blossomed - in evenings spent in the twilit field with Charlus Potter. And of course there was the experience of the tournament. The rush in his hair, the gasps of the spectators when he'd put himself into a dive, the anticipation and expectation, their eyes following his every sharp motion, hoping and waiting for him to catch the snitch and win the game...

But then his first real Quidditch memories on the pitch were of being a Chaser, flying alongside Lily Evans and Derek Bell, really involved in the game, thinking on his feet and strategizing. He loved the rush of flying the length of the pitch, clutching the red quaffle, and just knowing in the zing that went up through his arms that he was about to sink that bloody ball right through one of the opposing team's rings... Seeing that look of knowledge reflected on the Keeper who faced the speed and agility of James Potter was something of an addiction...