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Prongs

Time at Hogwarts went by more quickly than it did anywhere else in Britain - James was fairly certain of it. How could it possibly be already Thursday afternoon again and time for another flying lesson without time being warped considerably at the castle? He couldn’t believe he’d already been at Hogwarts an entire week - it seemed like only yesterday he’d been crossing days off a calendar, waiting for the day he would board the Hogwarts Express. In another way, though, he felt as though he’d known Sirius Black and Remus Lupin all of his life. Time moved both fast and slow at Hogwarts.

They walked across the grounds, following after Lily Evans with little Peter Pettigrew trailing along behind them, running to keep up, nervously babbling about how he hoped he’d be better at flying this go around. Madam Hooch was waiting alone on the grass in the spot where they’d learned last time and as they approached she redirected them to the Quidditch Pitch, saying that today’s lesson was to be held in there as they had - and she said the next word with a bit of a tone of annoyance - an audience.

“Audience?” Lily asked, confused, “But who’s come to watch us learn how to fly?”

“Half the school, by the looks of it,” Madam Hooch answered.

James and Sirius exchanged excited looks and ran down the hill to the pitch.

Inside, James felt his entire body tingle with excitement. The stands rose up around them, the goals standing at each end of the long pitch. He breathed deeply the smell of freshly cut grass and the faintly lingering scent of popcorn from the stands. He looked around and saw that the other students were gathering brooms already and rushed over, hoping to get one of the better school brooms before they were all taken.

There really was quite a few people in the stands. Looking around, James saw Alice and Derek Bell in the front, along with the other Gryffindor team members. There were a couple others he guessed were Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff players. He felt a nervous jolt in his stomach and turned to Remus, who was standing beside him selecting a broom. “Why do you supposed they’re all here for?” he asked.

Remus shrugged, “To see you show off, I reckon.”

That was exactly the nervous thought that James had had that made him ask.

He didn’t get a very good broom, but it was better than some of the more broken down ones, like the one that Severus Snape had ended up with after he ran into the pitch later than everyone else, followed by Madam Hooch who motioned for them all to line up and command their brooms up. James could feel eyes on him from all over the pitch and his stomach rolled with excited nerves. This was it. This was his chance. It was as though he’d been granted his very own private try outs, a moment to shine all by himself without any others to compete against except the motley crew that didn’t even know how to fly for the most part. He glanced to one side and saw Peter Pettigrew had edged in closer to him, as though trying to spy his secret to flying and James smirked to himself.

“On my whistle, you may fly up ten feet and back down,” Madam Hooch called. James gripped the broom tight in his fists, on his toes, ready to kick off.

Fweeet!

He soared straight up into the air - more like twenty feet in the time it took the others to wobble delicately the ten feet prescribed - and did a quick loop-de-loop before coming back down for a perfect landing. There was a smattering of applause from the stands and James grinned as Sirius gave him a thumbs-up. Lily rolled her eyes and glanced back at Alice Bell, one of the only ones not clapping, who shrugged her shoulders as though to say she didn’t see anything special about it.

James caught Lily’s eye on the other side of Peter Pettigrew, who was struggling, only four or five feet off the ground, the broom seeming to buck and twist uncontrollably beneath him. “You’ve got to hold your hands up a bit more,” Lily suggested to Peter. Peter moved his hands, but the broom didn’t calm down.

“You’re too nervous,” James announced, looking over, “Calm down your nerves and you’ll do better. The broom can feel you’re scared and it doesn’t like not being controlled so it’s trying to throw you for a better rider. Take a deep breath and tell yourself you can do this. You can. Take it from a professional.” He grinned.

If he had thought that helping Peter Pettigrew would impress Lily, he was wrong. Lily looked positively exasperated. “A professional? Where? I don’t see one here.”

“Well, p’raps not yet but one day I will be,” James replied.

He saw over Lily’s shoulder that Severus Snape, who was on her other side, was grinning in amusement at Lily’s obvious dislike for James. He expected Lily to turn and grin back at him, but instead she kept her eyes turned straight ahead.

Had Severus done something to upset her? James wondered.

The lesson went on basically the same for some time. Peter struggling, Lily and James exchanging glares and eye rolls, and every time James did something particularly good the others in the stands cheered or shouted comments like ‘good one Potter’. James was feeling particularly good about himself by the time the sky was starting to turn to dusk and the lesson was nearly over. Madam Hooch finally blew her whistle and shouted it was time for them all to put up their brooms for the night and head up to the Great Hall for supper.

Then Derek Bell jumped the stands and rushed across the pitch.

“Madam Hooch,” he called, “I know it’s time to go but, uh, would it be possible…” he held up a blue Dooble’s Best Blowing Gum ball, his eyes moving to James.

Madam Hooch looked at the tiny blue gum ball, then back at James, too, and it was obvious she was torn between wanting to be professional and wanting to see James catch the gum ball as badly as Derek Bell and all the others in the stands did. She hesitated, then said, “Well, I suppose just once…”

“Alright!” Sirius cheered, pumping the air with his fist. “Go on James!” he grinned, slapping his best friend on the back joyfully.

James felt his stomach roll over several times and he took a deep breath. He grabbed onto the broom’s handle and climbed onto it, on his tip toes again, every muscle tingling. “You ready, Potter?” Derek asked. He nodded and Derek chucked the gumball hard as he could. It soard much further away than the one Sirius had tossed the week before, but James just put on some extra speed, crossing the length of the pitch effortlessly, leaning forward over the handle of the broom severely, his hair streaming straight back from the wind. He stretched out his hand and pulled up on the broom handle to give himself a curved trajectory, his eyes following the blue of the ball as he moved beneath it until the point of intersection came suddenly into view and he yanked up, hard, and he stretched his hand wide… The moment he felt the gumball hit his palm, he heard them all begin shouting, screaming, clapping, beating the wood stands with their hands and feet.

He’d done it.

“Jumping gargoyles!” laughed Derek, “I never -- I didn’t really -- Wow! Very impressive, Potter!” He was grinning ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling. “I mean -- and it was blue, too!” The Gryffindors were all hooting and hollering with excitement. Even Alice and Lily were looking wide-eyed at the end of the pitch. The Slytherins were scowling - but none as hard as Severus Snape was, who was staring at Lily Evans’s impressed expression with a loathing sort of hatred darkening his pale face.

Derek flung his arm over James’s shoulders as he landed and grinned as he pulled him in for a side-hug. “Bloody brilliant, that’s what you are,” he said. “C’mon, come with me, we’ve got to talk to McGonagall about maybe breaking a few school rules!”

James felt his heart leap up into his throat as Derek pulled him along away from the pitch and up the grounds to the school, still carrying the crummy school broom, followed closely by the rest of the Gryffindor team. James felt as though he were being heralded by a parade or something, like he was some sort of big hero.

“We’re sure to win the House Cup if you’re on the team,” said an excited third year, Bradley Macmillion.

Derek marched James right through the entrance hall and up the staircase to the corridors above, leading him along until they’d come to the Transfiguration wing of the castle, where he found Professor McGonagall’s office and knocked excitedly. “As head of Gryffindor house, McGonagall’s gotta be the one to approve you being on the team as a first year,” explained Derek as he rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Come in,” Professor McGonagall’s voice rang sharply from within, her accent ringing through the words. Derek pushed the door opened and dragged James inside, leaving the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team - plus Sirius, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew - outside. McGonagall had her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, stacks of parchments spread across her desk. She looked up over the frame of the glasses as the boys walked in. “And to what do I owe this pleasure, Bell - Potter?” she asked, glancing between the two of them.

“Professor,” began Derek, “I’ve just been down to the pitch, watching the first years flying practice - surely you’ve heard about the gumball Potter caught last week?”

McGonagall nodded, tight-lipped, “I seem to have heard about it, yes, the whole school was talking of nothing else. What does that have to do with you being in my office?” she asked.

“Well see, I didn’t really believe he could’ve done it,” Derek said, “So I went out to watch the practice today and I brought along a blue Drooble’s, just to see… and… well -- Blimey, Professor, he really can catch it. Clear across the pitch, ma’am.” He stared at her, wide eyed, “A gumball is much smaller than a snitch is all.”

Professor McGonagall stared across the table and slowly took the glasses off her nose. “Mr. Bell,” she said, “What exactly are you getting at?”

“Only that Gryffindor needs a new Seeker, Professor, and --” he gestured at James.

She folded the frames. “I understand Gryffindor’s need,” she said slowly, “But… the school has a strict rule against First Years playing Quidditch. There’s too many of them that just don’t know how to fly properly and --”

“But James has proven he can,” interrupted Derek.

“But if we bend the rules for one, we must bend the rules for all of them,” McGonagall replied. She shook her head and then picked the glasses back up and put them back on. “I’m sure you understand. One more year, Potter, then you can try out to be on the Quidditch team.”

James felt his excitement deflate.

“But Professor!” cried Derek, “See reason! We’ve got to win this year! We just’ve got to!”

“So train hard, Mr. Bell,” Professor McGonagall replied, “But I cannot permit a first year permission to be joining the Quidditch team.”

Derek was hopping when they left the office a moment later. “Bloody hell,” he complained. “Slughorn wouldn’t have hesitated a moment if you were in his house. He’d do whatever it took to win the house cup.” He scowled a moment, then sighed and lightened up a bit, “Not that I’m willing to play as dirty as Slytherins are,” he added.

James sighed, “Well, maybe I could come watch the training anyway?” he suggested hopefully, “Maybe me and my friends could? Then we’re familiar with the team and how things are run for next term?” He stared up at Derek pleadingly.

Derek shrugged, “Sure why not. Maybe we can even sneak you on a broom some times and you could… you know… play along sometimes.”

“That’d be amazing!” James exclaimed.

The other Gryffindors were waiting at the end of the corridor for the verdict of James and Derek’s visit to Professor McGonagall’s office. When Derek shook their head there was a general murmuring of disapproval and disappointment. “Next year, Potter,” said Bradley Macmillion, “Next year.”