- Text Size +
Brass in the West Tower


The stands were filled with nervous energy and shouting as the flags flew from the ramparts in the warm wind. The quaffle flew up out of Madam Hooch’s hands, into the air, flying above the outstretched hands of the players on their brooms. James and Meg, the two seekers, zipped high above the level of play, into the sky overlooking the others as Quentin Vane and Jack Scout both lunged for the red quaffle ball, and Quentin got hold of it by just the tips of his fingers, flipping it quickly back to the waiting Chasers before quickly flying to guard his rings - as did Jack Scout.

And so it began.

Jessica Abbott caught the quaffle from Quentin and shot down the pitch, weaving in and out between the bludgers shot her way by Andy Kimball and Nick Shaffer. Isaac Horan zoomed over and caught a bludger with his beater’s bat, sending it down the length of the pitch with a force that had been unrivaled by any other Hogwarts student in ages. He flew alongside Jessica until she’d reached the rings and dove to block a bludger coming up from below as Andy Kimball tried to unseat Jessica before she could shoot on the goal. Jack Scout was ready for it, though, and quickly spun his broom to cover Jessica’s advance, but at the last moment - instead of shooting for the goal ring, she passed to Geoffrey Kinder, who had come up from the left. Kinder caught the ball, and, because he was busy attempting to cover Jessica, the quaffle sailed easily through the left ring and the stands exploded with cheers.

“Ten to zero, Hogwarts,” called Xenophilius happily, “What a tricky bit of play that was by Jessica Abbott, passing off to Geoffrey Kinder, the last minute addition.”

“Good one, Kinder,” called Quentin Vane, circling around the rings, “Good job, Abbott.”

“Thank you much,” Jessica sang as she twirled back in a curlicue to the center of play.

Ilvermorny had the quaffle now and they were passing it over the heads of the Hogwarts players as they advanced at the rings, keeping Quentin guessing which of them would be actually taking aim at the goal. He kept his cool, carefully hovering in the center of the three rings until he saw the glint in Richie Hart’s eye and he knew - he darted to cover Dawn Gleason on the right, rebounding the quaffle into play with the top of his helmet. The quaffle ricocheted back across the pitch, only to be caught by Eric Danes, who quickly zipped a loop around Marty Brown, and sank the quaffle into the center ring over Quentin Vane’s shoulder.

Play remained intense - both teams were there to win and both teams had been excellently assembled. It was clear from the skill displayed on the pitch that these truly were the best that both of the schools had to offer. James hovered, searching the pitch for the snitch, keeping an eye on Meg as she did the same, thinking to himself that the team was certainly doing Derek Bell proud. He clutched his broomstick and listened to the cheers of the students below.

In the high box, Dumbledore was waving a little flag with the Hogwarts crest upon it and clapping his hands, a great smile on his face, while Randy Temple sat forward, a look of desperate excitement on his face as he watched the pitch. Several wizards were taking notes, James noticed, and he remembered Derek mentioning that there were going to be scouts from the pro Quidditch leagues to see the tourney and the Quidditch commissioner.

You’ve got to give it 100% of yourself!” Derek’s voice echoed through James’s mind and he realized that - given how well both of the teams were playing, the factor that would absolutely make either one of the teams standout would be a display of unparalleled broom-handling.

And luckily - unparalleled broom-handling was precisely what James Potter was best at.

A grin crossed over his face. He looked over at Meg Johnson and he dove. Straight down. The broomstick handle aimed to the ground and he flew past Isaac Horan, past Abby Jones, past Richie Hart and Eric Danes, below the plane of play. He could hear Xenophilius shouting over the intercom. He hadn’t seen the snitch, he simply knew he needed to move, to call attention to himself. He looked up as he levelled off just before hitting the ground below the game. People were leaning over the edges of the stands, pointing and shouting, hooting and hollering and waving their hands. Meg Johnson was mid-way through the plane of play, though nowhere near as quickly as James had done, and no where near as straight a drop. He quickly circled the ground level of the pitch a couple times before shooting very nearly straight back up, passing Meg, still on her way down.

The people taking notes in the high box had nearly dropped their pads, they were staring up at James and talking rapidly - he could see Dumbledore laughing and clapping even more heartily than he’d been doing before. A quick scan of the stands and James spotted Sirius leaping up and down on the bench and screaming as Remus and Peter also waved and whistled and clapped. James felt his chest puff up with pride. He did a quick figure eight over the pitch’s width, looking, scanning, keeping moving all the time. Meg Johnson was on her way back up, looking annoyed now, and dodging ‘round the players as Quentin Vane blocked another Ilvermorny shot.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” Meg shouted as she reached the same airspace as James, “The snitch wasn’t down there!”

“I know that!” James said, “But I got bored just sitting and waiting for it. After all, you don’t want to be just a glorified spectator on a broom, do you?” And with that, he zipped away, corkscrewing through the air over the stands, close enough that he could have reached out and high-fived some of the students, if only he hadn’t been flying so fast as to take their hands off if he’d tried. It was during this sweep over the stands that he spotted Lily Evans, sitting next to Severus Snape on one of the benches - her fiery red hair and Gryffindor robes standing out among a sea of Slytherin green.

Determined more than ever to make an impressive spectacle of himself, James grinned to himself. He flew very nearly directly at them, coming close enough that several of the Slytherins toward the front actually ducked, thinking he’d lost control of his broom, before pulling up and spinning back toward play. He’d been so close that Lily could feel the wind from his broom as he’d turned.

“What a git!” shouted Severus, who’d been one of the ones who had ducked, “He could’ve hurt you. Are you alright?”

Lily, though, was laughing. “Yes, I’m fine!”

James continued to show off - making himself a distraction for the beaters, Andy Kimball and Nick Shaffer. Isaac Horan even seemed to pause and marvel when James successfully attracted a bludger that seemed to follow him about for a moment until he shook it off by doing several quick loops until Horan could whack it away with his bat. Meg had given up on following James when he broke into dives and quick sprints down the length of the pitch - it had become quite apparent that James did not have to see the snitch to go flying off at top speed, which was a part of the plan of attack. If he could make her hesitate to follow, then when the time came that he truly did see the snitch, he would have a head start.

The score was close throughout the game. It was at 130-120 Ilvermorny’s lead when Meg Johnson suddenly turned and flew toward the high box. James, who was down by the Ilvermorny rings, turned tail and flew after her. The snitch was there - right by Xenophilius’s “mickeyphone”, and there seemed to be no way that James would catch up to Meg before she caught it. He pressed himself flat as could be against his broomstick, increasing his speed, and shot off in her direction, though, just the same. His heart pounded - please don’t let her catch it, please don’t let her catch it, he thought.

Luck would have it that the snitch was a nasty bugger, though, and as Meg reached for it, it snipped itself straight up into the sun, momentarily blinding her and causing her to not only lose sight of the little gold ball, but to fly directly into Xenophilius. Another screech of feedback filled the stands and the students yelled in offense as it pierced their ears until Meg and Xenophilius managed to untangle themselves from one another.

When she’d gotten back on her broom, of course, the snitch was gone missing once more and James was hovering over the stand. “You alright?” he called down to her in concern.

“Yeah,” she answered, mounting her broom and kicking off from the edge of the box.

“How about you, Xeno?” James called, “All good?”

Xenophilius replied, “As good as a crumple-horned snorkack!”

“A what?” Meg looked back, confused.

“Who knows?” James said, and they sped back off over the pitch.

In the time that it had taken for Meg to untangle from Xenophilius, Dawn Gleason had sunk another goal through the hoop past Quentin Vane - 140-120 Ilvermorny - and James hung in the air, searching for a sign of the snitch. But there didn’t seem to be any. And Ilvermorny, egged by their sudden lead, began to play harder than ever, even as the Hogwarts students were beginning to tire. Soon, the score was 180-120, Ilvermorny.

“Bloody hell,” James murmured, discouraged by the sudden dip in the score.

The morale in the team only dropped further when a bludger caught Abby Jones in the wrist, just before she was about to sink the quaffle through the rings at Ilvermorny’s end. It was a fair play - but she clutched her wrist and spun to the ground carefully, wincing as she went. Quentin called for a time out and the two teams each flew to the ground at the foot of their separate goal posts as Madam Hooch waved her hands about to get Pomfrey onto the pitch.

Once Abby Jones’s wrist had been quickly repaired, she and the rest of the Hogwarts players huddled together quickly. “Alright,” Quentin Vane said, “You lot are doing grand. Don’t let this little lead Ilvermorny’s got going on keep us from playing as spectacularly as we have done so far.” He nodded to Abby Jones, “Are you alright?”

“Never better,” she said.

Quentin took a deep breath, “Look, we can’t let this lead grow anymore. We have to win this for Derek. I know we can do it. Ilvermorny’s playing really good, but they haven’t got Derek’s spirit riding in them like we do.” He held out his hand and one by one the others all put their palms on top of it, creating a stack. “For Derek, for Hogwarts. On three. One… two… three…”

“FOR DEREK!” they all shouted, “FOR HOGWARTS!”

The time out over, they all took to the sky once more.

Despite the pep talk, however, Ilvermorny still managed to raise the stakes fairly quickly. Quentin was quite frustrated, and flew loops around the rings to vent. James looked over at Meg Johnson and she seemed just as determined as he felt. There was a short window of time here in which James could catch the snitch and win the game. If the scores kept going as they were, though, Ilvermorny would take the lead by more than 150 points and catching the snitch wouldn’t do him any good until they managed to catch up, which, given the current pattern of the game, would not happen.

James flew up as high as he could, until the pitch was far below, wanting to be able to see everything at once - a higher perspective - the sort of view that perhaps Derek had of the pitch. He hovered there, staring down at the dots of the players, breathing deep of the fresh air. It’s beautiful, James thought, The view from up here. Perhaps it’s not so bad after all, looking down. He stared ‘round the grounds, spotting Hagrid’s cabin and the Whomping Willow. The gates, the forrest. And then a glint caught his eye - not the snitch - it wasn’t gold, what caught him. It was brass - the bells in the towers - the Bell Towers. The bell in the west tower, Derek’s tower, had caught the sunlight just right so to shine and James smiled to himself, thinking it a sign that perhaps Derek was there, telling him hello.

And then gold did catch James’s eye.

Far below, by the rings of Ilvermorny, just a few inches from Jack Scout’s foot.

James pelted downward, faster than he had ever flown before, his broomstick shaking with the pressure from the velocity of his flight. The stands and castle a blur to him now, nothing but the snitch in focus, he reached out his fist as far as he could, leaning over the nose of his broomstick, his heart in his throat, and he caught the snitch, tumbling forward, head over heels, clutching the broom with his knees to keep it from falling away. He spun, over and over, straight through the hoops.

There was a breathless, strange moment in which everyone sat still on the pitch. Dawn Gleason at the far end held the quaffle high, about to send it through the rings once again, Meg hovering a couple feet above the ring James had sailed through. The only movement was from the bludgers, which were still on their tracks from their last strike, and the moment was broken by Isaac Horan, who slammed a bludger away. Utter and complete cacophony erupted across the field as realization sunk in what exactly had happened.

The stands were a madhouse. Sirius was whooping louder than he’d never whooped in all his life and Peter and Remus had joined him on the bench to leap and wave their hands - at least until Peter became frightened of the height and got back down to the floor feeling rather ill. Lily Evans was screaming and clapping, and even Severus Snape had stood up to see better and politely clapped his hands, glancing to see if Lily saw what he was doing. The Hogwarts team descended on James in a mass, like magnets attracted to a common source. He held his fist high in the air above the cluster, the little golden ball sparkling between his fingers, the wings fluttering fiercely.

He looked to the sky, thinking of Derek and how happy he would’ve been in this moment.

“Thanks mate,” James whispered.