**********
Chapter 13: Of Disturbed Stomachs, Green Hair, and Ballet
“He’s still asleep?”
“Think so ” disturbed stomach, I think…”
“Still?”
“Well yeah, he was sick yesterday night…”
His friends’ voices gradually broke through the thick fog filling James’ head. He felt remarkably like when he had done in the Hogwarts Express, after fainting in the small bathroom. Hoisting one eyelid with considerable effort, he was greeted with the sight of a dark red blur, which, he concluded after giving the matter much thought, must have been the inside of the curtains of his bed. This meant two things, he went on, his foggy brain meticulously taking tiny step after tiny step in this elaborate reasoning: one, he was in his bed at Hogwarts; two, it was daytime, since he could actually see the curtains.
The logical conclusion of this was, there was no way he was supposed to be in bed now, unless it was the weekend. And if he remembered correctly, they had arrived at Hogwarts only the day before ” so it seemed highly improbable that it should be the weekend already.
“Should we wake him up?”
“’Course, we’re not going to let him sleep through the first day of class…”
“Yeah, I guess McGonagall won’t be happy…”
“Nah, I wasn’t thinking of McGonagall. I hate thinking that he’s going to skip lessons while I’ll have to endure all of them.”
“Sirius ” I really think you should let him sleep. He’s seriously ill. Staying in bed is not like him, he’s more likely to bounce about and run down the staircase at five in the morning.”
How unfair, thought James, vaguely indignant. He needed little sleep, granted; and he did have this tendency to run ” no, walk quickly ” when he was excited about something. But at five in the morning? Ridiculous. He was still human, thank you very much.
“C’mon, Sirius, Remus, I’m hungry. If you don’t hurry up, we’ll have no time at all for breakfast.”
“Good point… Shall we check on him during the lunch break?”
“Yeah, let’s do that. Come on Sirius, Peter’s right, we need to hurry…”
“Okay, okay…”
In a shuffling of feet and rustling of clothes, they edged away from his bed, and soon the door whined on its hinges as they closed it behind them.
James managed to open his other eye without adding to his growing headache. He slowly turned over to lie on his back, his cheek stiff and hot from being pressed for so long into the pillow, and relished in the wonderful quietness of the dormitory. The prospect of escaping lessons would have delighted him if it wasn’t for the feeling that everything inside his body was misplaced. His stomach seemed to have gone up into his throat, which felt somewhat obstructed, and if he was to trust the taste of bile that flooded his mouth, his liver had gone into quite an overenthusiastic activity. The persistent pain in his belly made him think that all his other organs were knotted together and fighting a duel to death. The mere idea of sitting up was ludicrous.
The seconds ticked on James’ wristwatch, resting on his bedside table with his glasses, somewhere on the other side of the curtains. The dark red canopy was not all that interesting to stare at, especially when one was cursed with a short-sightedness as dreadful as James’, and he was becoming distinctly sick of it. However, at the slightest attempt at moving into an upright position, his stomach expressed the desire to spill from his throat into his mouth then all over the sheets, and as he was rather keen on keeping all his organs safely inside his body, James gave up.
Lying in the semi-darkness of the thick canopy, James caught himself listening to the silence of the castle; a silence, he found, which was in fact composed of multiple, barely audible noises that he would never have heard, had not he been listening. There was a scratching sound in the skirting board, the windowpanes were slightly rattling under the assault of the wind which moaned around Gryffindor tower, a few ambers in the stove sometimes gave a half-hearted crackling sound, and someone was crying in the distant common room.
James focused on the crying; whoever they were, they seem to be the only one left in the common room, which wasn’t surprising since the first class had most probably begun. Boy or girl? Girl, he decided in a surge of male pride. What age? Not very old… Otherwise they wouldn’t be crying in the first place, would they?
The crying seemed to edge closer, as if the unknown student was approaching the boys’ dormitory. James was disappointed; it was a boy, then, if they were coming this way. Probably a little first-year blubbering after his parents. The wooden steps cracked under light feet as the crying boy made his way upstairs. James, whose dormitory was the first on the way when walking up the stairs, expected to hear him bypass his door before climbing further up. He was therefore completely taken by surprise when he heard the door open with another grating sound, and the sobbing become instantly louder as the unknown boy stepped inside the room.
A pair of feet shuffled along the squealing floorboards, moving towards Remus’ bed on James’ right. Then there was the muffled rustle of sheets as the boy sat on the edge of the bed, then, once settled, he stopped his quiet sobbing and started wailing openly in evident and noisy despair.
James was at first taken aback, and quite irritated than anyone would think that his dormitory was a place for anybody to come in and cry to their heart’s content; but as whoever was seated upon Remus’ bed started hiccoughing and choking on his own tears, he started to feel a little uneasy, as if he was eavesdropping on something private. The boy had probably chosen the first dormitory he had come across to, thinking that it would be empty ” and it probably looked empty at first glance. Why he hadn’t gone to his own dormitory puzzled James, but he had more pressing matters to think of.
What should he do? Stay put until the boy was done crying? He seemed to be able to go on for hours… Show himself and ask if he could help? The problem was, James really, really wasn’t gifted to handle crying people. On the other hand, he didn’t have much of a choice.
Sighing, James raised an arm ” with some effort; his arm seemed to be quite reluctant to move at all, for which James couldn’t blame it ” and pulled apart his curtains, squinting in order to distinguish a human shape in the bundle of black robes shaking with sobs on Remus’ bed.
“Hello?” he croaked, his tongue unpleasantly heavy and dry making the word barely intelligible. “Er, you okay?”
His broken voice had been barely loud enough for him to hear it over the convulsed sobbing, but as it feebly sounded, the person huddled up on Remus’ bed started and sat bolt upright, facing James. During a single, interminable second they stared into each other’s face ” James’ poor eyesight merely enabling him to realise his mistake as he looked into a small girl’s pale face ” before the crying girl let out a horrified, high-pitched scream and jumped off the bed. James didn’t have the time to call out after her as she ran to the door and bolted from the room, a long mane of mud-coloured hair flying after her.
“What the ””
James heaved himself up on one elbow, grabbing his glasses with his other hand and planting them on his nose. However, the girl’s footsteps were already fading away, and running after her in the state he was in was not an option. He frowned; he had not been able to distinguish the girl’s features, yet the greenish colour of her hair reminded him of something.
“Oh, right,” he whispered aloud, his eyes suddenly widening in remembrance. “Evans.”
He went into a laughing fit as he recalled Lily Evans’ botched up dyeing, in the Hogwarts Express; strangely enough, he had not thought of it once, and had even forgotten to tell the story to Sirius, Peter and Remus. Pity, it was damn funny.
Evans was no friend of his ” nor did she have many friends of her own. She had watched their persistence at disrupting lessons with a rather critical eye the previous year, and had even, on one occasion, embarrassed James by yelling at him in the common room; worse, she was annoyingly gifted in Charms and Potions, two subjects in which she effortlessly outclassed both James and Sirius. Oh no, he had no pity in store for Evans. Who cared about a silly girl’s hair, anyway.
Why was she crying? He idly wondered, swinging back and forth one leg that hung over the edge of the mattress. Because of her hair? Could it be the reason why she had tried to hide in the boys’ dormitory instead of going to class? He would have thought she would rather skip meals than miss a single lesson…
“So Evans is hiding her ugly face,” he said aloud with shameless satisfaction. “She doesn’t even want to show herself in the Great Hall…”
His voice trailed away and his smirk faded as he was reminded, with painful accuracy, of another person who hadn’t dared confront the other students in the Great Hall, the previous day. Evans’ predicament was nothing compared to Sirius’, he reasoned. The comparison was ridiculous, indecent, even. Yet James couldn’t get rid of that lingering sensation of malaise ” and his current sick state was not helping matters. The result was ultimately the same, they were both attempting to avoid being mocked and jeered at. Now he thought of it, Sirius had probably dragged along this morning in order to postpone breakfast, as much as out of concern for James.
Evans’ desperate sobs seemed to echo in his ears, as if she was still there, curled up on Remus’ bed and shaking and hiccoughing. James felt a new stab of uneasiness. If maybe he had told her, from the start, that her hair was green…
Groaning, James smacked himself across the face with his own pillow. Comparing Evans to Sirius. Feeling guilty for a trick he had played on a girl. He had to be very, very ill.
Making up his mind, James threw the sheets off his body and valiantly attempted to get up. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, causing him to clasp a hand on his mouth, and he swayed a little on the spot as the dormitory suddenly seemed to spring to life under his feet, pitching and tossing like a wild boat. James clutched his bedpost, holding on for dear life as he waited for the spinning to subside.
“Never, ever,” he groaned as he wiped his sweaty brow on his sleeve, “eat éclairs. Never again.”
He eventually found his balance and approximately navigated through the dormitory, grabbing the furniture on his way so as to steady himself, and managed to reach the door after a painful and valiant struggle. Walking down the stairs was akin to throwing oneself head-first into a dangerous adventure, but he made it to the common room without falling.
He hesitated, for a few, very long seconds, leaning against the common room wall in his pyjamas and his stomach turned upside-down. Then he took a deep, soothing breath, and decidedly walked towards the girls’ staircase. He gripped the banister and started climbing the wooden steps.
A horn-like sound, horribly reminiscent of the Shrieking Mirror in the Piano Room back home, immediately deafened him. Before he had the time to do more than clasp his hands on either side of his throbbing head, the staircase suddenly gave way beneath his feet and he felt himself falling backward.
He landed painfully on his back at the bottom of the staircase, the wind knocked out of him. His vision clouded as his eyes watered in pain and he had to fight down the urge to vomit.
“Well,” he mumbled groggily, still lying on the floor. “That settles the matter. I’m off to the Hospital Wing.”
He shut his eyes again, willing his stomach to stop waltzing inside of him.
“As soon as I can get up,” he added with a grimace.
***
“I’m not that hungry…”
“Sirius, you can’t skip lunch.”
“I can’t skip lunch, I can’t skip classes,” Sirius said irritably. “Is there something I can skip?”
“Your bad-tempered moments?” Remus suggested.
Sirius made a brusque move and Remus visibly tensed, although he steadily stared right into Sirius’ eyes. Peter shifted uneasily, looking from one to the other as if following a tennis match. However, Sirius controlled his rising temper and forced himself to open the hands he had reflexively closed into fists.
“I’m going to check on James,” he said coldly. Without another word he spun around and left Remus and Peter standing at the door of the Great Hall.
He climbed the marble staircase two steps at a time, going against the flow of students walking down to lunch, but not really seeing them ” to the point where he accidentally bumped into several people. He was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn’t hear at first the clear, quite shrill voice calling his name.
“Sirius! Sirius!”
He eventually wheeled around and was surprised to see a seemingly healthy James, dressed in his school uniform, hurrying to join him in the corridor packed with students.
“Where’re you going?” James asked. “I wanted to join you for lunch…”
“I was just going to check on you, actually. So, how’re you feeling?”
“Much better,” said James. “I went to see Pomfrey… She put me on a diet though,” he added with a grimace. “So, how about lunch?”
Sirius grinned. “What about your diet?” he teased.
“Oh, drop it, will you?” said James, rolling his eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”
He took a couple of steps towards the staircase. Sirius didn’t move.
“Sirius?” James called, looking back at him. He didn’t seem surprised in the least, as if he had been expecting such a reaction from Sirius; however there was something like weariness, or impatience, in the way he looked at him. Sirius felt himself blush. Annoyance and shame were mingling inside of him: shame of his cowardice as well as annoyance at James, who seemed to think he would be able to overcome his fears overnight. It was easy for him, the spoiled, adored child…
“Sirius,” said James very seriously. “Let’s get down in the Great Hall.”
Sirius pressed his lips together in a thin line and averted his gaze. James heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Oh for God’s sake,” he muttered. Then to Sirius’ great surprise he wheeled about and walked up to him. Seizing his sleeve without slowing down, James dragged a completely nonplussed Sirius in the direction of the Gryffindor tower.
“Where are we””
“The dormitory,” James replied dryly over his shoulder. “I want to show you something.”
“All right, all right, I can walk on my own, thank you,” Sirius grunted, shaking his arm out of James’ grip. His curiosity was however stronger than his growing impatience at James’ odd behaviour, and he followed him.
James led him to their common room, then up the staircase and into their dormitory. Once there, he pulled his heavy trunk from under his bed and started rummaging inside, not even sparing a glance at Sirius, who stood next to him.
“The Invisibility Cloak?” Sirius suddenly asked, hope bubbling in his stomach. “That’s it? You want to lend me your””
“Yeah, keep dreaming,” James snapped, with such unexpected violence that Sirius flinched.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked in a mixture of puzzlement and anger.
“What’s wrong with me?” James incredulously repeated, straightening up to his full height ” which wasn’t much ” to glare at Sirius. “I’m not the one who doesn’t dare face the others in the Great Hall!”
Sirius’ face grew very hot as blood flooded his head. “You’re calling me a coward?” he snarled.
“What are you calling yourself?” James scoffed, bending over his trunk again. “A hero?”
“After all I told you yesterday… I thought you ” I thought ” oh, I wish you could be out of your mummy’s skirts for one single summer,” Sirius said in a voice he tried to keep even. He was now shaking with rage. “I wish you could spend a couple of months in my house, Mr I-have-everything-I-bloody-want!”
James stopped going through the mess he had created in his trunk, but remained crouching in front of it, his head lowered.
“So what now?” he said quietly, without looking up. “You’re going to steal food from the kitchen and never show up in the Great Hall again?”
Sirius, sadly, had nothing to reply to that. He looked away from James, raising a hand to absentmindedly scratch the back of his neck as he let his eyes trail around the empty dormitory. For the first time since he had met James he felt strangely, painfully abandoned.
“There.”
Sirius turned around again, and his worries instantly flew right out of his head: in James’ hands was the most beautiful broomstick he had ever seen. James’ former broomstick had been fairly new, if he recalled correctly, but it was nothing compared to the shining marvel he now held.
“C’mon,” James enjoined him, pulling him out of his contemplation. He walked up to the narrow window that pierced the thick stone wall next to his bed, broomstick in hand, and opened it.
“Sirius!” he called again, looking back at his best friend with raised eyebrows. Sirius shook himself and hastily joined him without asking questions.
“Behind me,” James shortly told him as he climbed on the windowsill and mounted his broomstick.
“Where’re we going?” Sirius asked, hauling himself up on the windowsill beside James.
“The girls’ dormitory.”
Sirius’ mouth fell slightly open.
“There, hum, there is a staircase, you know,” he slowly pointed out. He was starting to wonder what kind of potions Madam Pomfrey had been feeding James.
“Yeah?” answered the latter. “Well, try walking up the staircase, and when you get inside the dorm you can send me an owl.”
Although James’ reply only served to puzzle him further, there was a certain finality in his best friend’s voice that dissuaded Sirius from interrogating him again. He awkwardly mounted the broomstick behind James and circled his waist with his arms.
“Ready?”
“Yes please,” Sirius replied immediately. They were both crouching on a narrow windowsill, a broomstick squeezed between their knees, and he was getting distinctly uncomfortable.
“Okay,” James said. “Hold on.” And pushing firmly on his legs, he threw them both out of the window.
They soared into the rain that, once more, monotonously pattered on the drenched stonewalls of Hogwarts castle. Thankfully the wind had decreased and James seemed to steer the broomstick effortlessly, despite Sirius’ added weight. They flew alongside the circular wall of the tower, both boys squinting in order to discern recognisable shapes through the closed windows.
“There,” James suddenly said, pointing at a window. Sirius looked, and thought he could see something green behind the glass pane streaming with water. James, however, flew past this window and stopped the broomstick level with the one next to it, which opened on the same room; keeping a firm hold on the handle of his broom with his left hand, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the catch.
“Alohomora!”
The window opened slightly, pushed inwards by the slight wind, and Sirius leant sideways to push it completely open. James very quietly managed to drive the broomstick inside the dormitory, and they were both able to scramble down from it.
Then several things happened in a very quick succession: Sirius heard the rustling of sheets, someone close by sniffed loudly, then squealed, before shouting, “Petrificus””
Sirius’ wand was suddenly in his hand and he was yelling, “Expelliarmus!”
He watched, as if in slow motion, as the wand was snapped out of the strange girl’s hand and flew straight at his face ” he made to dive out of the way but he was too slow ” then James’ hand appeared out of nowhere and caught the wand.
“What do you want?” wailed the girl Sirius had just Disarmed. She looked familiar, but her hair was of a hideous greenish colour that he was sure he had never seen before. She threw a quick glance at the door, as if hoping that she would be able to dash to it ” but then James raised his own wand and shouted, “Colloportus!”
The girl let out a small, startled kind of yelp as the lock clicked loudly, locking her inside.
“Hey, Evans,” James then said in a neutral tone.
Sirius blinked.
“Evans?” he repeated in disbelief. The girl flushed scarlet under his stare and tears welled up in her eyes.
“So that’s why you came?” she asked in a trembling voice, looking at James. “To have a good laugh at me? You even brought your little friend to the show ” I suppose you’re the one who tried to come up here this morning, as well?”
Her voice was getting steadier as she talked, and now her eyes flashed in anger as she stared at James with the expression one might wear when looking at some particularly disgusting kind of slug.
“Well go on then,” she went on, her voice raising. “Laugh! Laugh at poor stupid Evans, who dyed her hair green then showed up in front of everyone because you had told her it was all right! Why aren’t you laughing, Potter, isn’t your little prank hilarious?”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” Sirius asked loudly, but James silenced him with an imperious gesture of his hand.
“I’ll explain later,” he briefly said. “Look, Evans, I didn’t come here to laugh at you””
“Oh yeah?” she half-screamed, now red with anger. “Then what are you doing inmy dormitory?”
“What were you doing in mine?” James retorted, speaking over her.
“Wait,” Sirius said again, feeling lost, “she was in our”?”
“That was a mistake,” Evans said very quickly.
“A mistake?” James repeated. “You manage to mistake a boys’ dormitory for yours, then you scream and run when one of them ask you why you’re crying?”
“I wasn’t crying,” she said feebly, blushing again.
“Yeah, and my name’s Severus Snape,” James snapped with the same uncharacteristic brutality he had used with Sirius earlier. “You know what I think, Evans? I think you’re scared of facing the others, so you’re hiding.”
Evans opened her mouth, closed it, then lowered her head, her lips twisted in a grimace as if she was trying very hard not to burst into tears.
“You’re scared, in fact,” James pitilessly went on. “Because a bunch of idiots don’t like your hairdo, you’re scared to show your face.”
“What,” she sniffed loudly ” strange how she still managed to sound contemptuous and incredulous while sniffing. “You’re not going to tell me you like it? It’s horrible.”
For emphasis, she seized a short strand of hair and held it up for them to see. Sirius could only agree with her; if he hadn’t been wondering what on earth was going on, he would have burst out laughing at the girl’s ridiculous aspect.
“And you’re going to skip lessons and meals for a bad dyeing?” James continued, waving away her interruption. “You’re going to starve to death ” worst, fail your exams ” for fear of being laughed at?”
Sirius narrowed his eyes, suspicion worming its way into his mind. “Wait,” he said for a third time. “I know what you’re after, James.”
“Do you?” said James distractedly. “So Evans, am I right?”
The girl shifted her weight from one leg to the other, her eyes resolutely cast downwards.
“I can’t… show up after what happened yesterday,” she mumbled. “All… You know, all the laughing and pointing and… and…”
She swallowed, then let out a shaky breath. Big tears were now rolling on her cheeks.
“The other girls… They didn’t tell me a thing…” she softly cried. “They said it… it was fine…”
“Well at least I’m not the only one responsible,” muttered James, so low Sirius barely caught his words. “You’ll have to go down eventually, Evans,” he said in a louder voice.
“Wh-what d-does it matter to y-you?” she sobbed. “It’s m-my business!”
“Sirius won’t go downstairs either,” said James abruptly.
Sirius was so taken aback by James’ unexpected revelation that he remained speechless, his mind blank of thoughts and his voice gone; he could only stare at his best friend in dumb stupefaction.
“Wh-what?” Evans said, turning her attention to Sirius for the first time since he had Disarmed her. “Why wouldn’t he””
“Problems,” James explained, “with his family. They’re a Slytherin lot””
“Hey!” Sirius blurted out as he finally found his voice. “What do you think you’re playing at, exactly?”
James turned to him, his features set in an expression of mild surprise as if what Sirius had just said did not make any sense ” as if Sirius was supposed to find completely normal that he should spill out his secrets to a girl which they not only didn’t know that much, but also which he, Sirius, heartily disliked.
“What’re you doing?” he hissed, anger welling up once more inside of him. “Did I ask you to tell the whole school?”
“Evans won’t tell,” James said evenly. “Will you, Evans?” he added, turning to her. “We can trust you, right? No one is supposed to know.”
“What the hell!” Sirius exclaimed, his voice rising. “You remember who she is, right? Evans the teachers’ pet? Evans the know-it-all?”
“Shut it, Black,” Evans snarled, suddenly looking much fiercer despite her ridiculous hair and her tear-stained face. “I’m no sneak!”
“If she agrees to go downstairs,” James half-shouted in an attempt to speak over them both, “will you?”
A shocked silence met his words. Sirius, who had been about to shoot at Evans a scathing reply, found himself goggling at James with his mouth open instead. So that was what it was all about? James was actually comparing his situation to Evans’?
“What ” you ” that’s completely beside the point!” he finally stammered, half in indignation and half in shock. “She ” she””
“She showed up in front of the whole school with green hair,” James coolly completed. “The whole school. Not only the Slytherins.”
“Drop it, Potter,” Evans said firmly. “I’m not going downstairs.”
“Yes you are,” James impatiently said, turning to her. “Because you’ll be even more laughed at if you fail all your classes, Evans. And what will McGonagall say?” he added in mock horror.
Silence fell again, and stretched on for several long, interminable seconds. Evans was looking from James to Sirius with her eyes narrowed; Sirius could almost hear the wheels whirring in her head. “You’re good at Transfiguration, Potter, aren’t you?” she suddenly said sharply.
James apparently wasn’t expecting this. “Well yeah, I am,” he replied warily. “You should know, since we both outclass you””
“Transfigure my hair.”
James blinked. Sirius raised his eyebrows at her, then a smile slowly came to curl his lips as he understood what Evans was after. Oh, she wasn’t going to do James any favour if she didn’t get something in exchange. He was impressed, actually.
“Transfigure your hair?” James repeated in a weak voice.
“Exactly,” Evans confirmed. “I’d like it to be black and curly.”
“Black and ” Are you kidding me, Evans?” James blurted out, indignation causing his voice to climb two octaves. “There isn’t hairdresser written across my forehead!”
“Then I’m not going downstairs,” Evans concluded with infuriating calmness. Sirius went to lean against a four-poster, pinching his lips between two fingers to hide his broad grin.
“You’re not going to hide here all year,” James protested.
“Try me.”
“Mate, to be honest, it’s your fault her hair’s like that now,” Sirius interjected, his voice shaking with laughter. “Time to repair the damage.”
“Oh, shut your face,” James snapped in annoyance. “Her girlfriends told her it was fine as well, so it’s not only my fault! Besides, the spell to change colours is third-year level, we’re not supposed to know it yet””
“But you do know it, don’t you?” Sirius smoothly noted.
James looked from Sirius to Evans and back again, seemingly struck speechless by his best friend’s betrayal, and his lips soundlessly moving gave him the expression of a goldfish out of its aquarium. Evans giggled, causing James to flush with anger.
“Fine!” he roared. “Fine! I’ll do it! But if a word of this gets out””
“Don’t talk so much, Potter, the Charms lesson is starting in ten minutes,” Evans said with a satisfied smirk.
James sent her way a glare that would have disintegrated a granite column, but he picked his wand nonetheless and walked up to her. Evans looked a little wary as he pointed his wand at her head and started muttering under his breath, his brow furrowed in concentration; and for a second, a flicker of fear crossed her face as she noticed no change in her hair colour. A droplet of sweat ran down James’ temple.
Sirius drew closer to the pair of them, watching in reluctant admiration as James concentrated on the spell with all his might. On the third try, the green of Evans’ hair slowly turned darker; Sirius couldn’t help but notice that James’ face was greying with tiredness, and he experienced a twinge of worry ” was the spell that difficult to pull off for him?
“There!” James croaked at last, with a valiant effort to sound cross. “Your bloody hair is black!”
“And curly?” Evans said suspiciously.
“Oh for God’s sake”” James abruptly jabbed his wand at her, causing her hair to twirl in tight curls.
Evans ran a hand through her hair, pulling on a lock to try and check if the colour was good ” which caused her to go slightly cross-eyed. The sight seemed to delight her, for she then had a winning smile and held out her hand to James.
“I’m not shaking your hand,” said the latter defensively. He had staggered backwards to sit on another bed that stood nearby.
Evans rolled her eyes. “I was asking for my wand, you idiot.”
James nodded and, drawing Evans’ wand from his belt, tossed it at her without a word. She caught it and dashed at once in the small bathroom adjacent to the dormitory, locking the door behind her.
“You feeling all right?” Sirius asked, frowning.
James nodded again, although he was abnormally pale. “The potion she used is a tough one,” he explained in a low voice. “It didn’t want me to change the colour. I had to use the Transfiguration spell three times… It’s draining.”
“How come you know about the spell anyway?” Sirius asked, crossing the room to the bed where James sat. “I mean… I thought you had heard about it, but you looked as if you had already practiced it…” He wisely refrained from adding that he had hoped the spell would go wrong, possibly burning Evans’ hair or giving it an interesting colour.
“I practiced it at home, along with several others,” James said. He closed his eyes and leant his head against the bedpost, rubbing his temple with his left hand. “I’m already mastering the first ten chapters of Transfiguration, and the first five of Charms.”
“You were able to practice them?” Sirius repeated incredulously. “But we… we’re not allowed to…”
“Use magic at home? I know. But Dad explained to me, once, that the Ministry hadn’t worked out a way to detect underage magic yet. They detect magic, but when it’s coming from a wizarding house they have no way to know who used it. Parents are supposed to forbid their kids to use magic, there are even wards in my room to prevent me from using it before I turn seventeen… but, well… Mum never knew I practiced at night in the cellar.”
“But why would you want to be ahead of everyone in Transfiguration and Charms?”
“That way I won’t be bothered with homework, and I can concentrate on… You know, solving Remus’ problem,” James replied, shooting a furtive look at the bathroom door behind which Evans had disappeared.
Excitement swelled in Sirius’ chest at James’ words. Last summer, he had found a few interesting books on the subject of Animagi in his father’s library; he had spent entire nights copying pages and pages of complicated instructions, not daring steal his father’s books for fear their intentions would be discovered. Those had been exciting, suspense-filled nights, and he couldn’t wait to show James the result of his hard work.
“On this subject,” he started decidedly, but the sound of the door being unlocked silenced him immediately.
Evans stepped out of the bathroom, her curly black hair brushed back and a wide smile on her pale, freckled face.
“How do I look?” she asked proudly.
“Like a sheep,” James answered at once ” and Sirius thought the comparison was remarkably accurate. “C’mon, the pair of you, let’s get out of here or we’ll be late in Charms.”
“All right,” they both said at the same time. Evans seemed to lose a little of her confidence at the prospect of facing the whole school again, but eventually she walked ahead of the pair of them, her jaw set in a defiant expression.
“Oh, wait,” said James, extending his arm to prevent Sirius from taking another step. “Not the stairs ” Evans, we’re going through the window, all right?”
“Okay,” she said distractedly. The door closed behind her and they found themselves alone.
They wasted no time in going to pick up the broomstick that lay abandoned on the floor, next to the still-open window. After a short struggle to go through the narrow opening, they were flying above the Hogwarts castle again, large drops of water splattering on their faces and legs.
“Please tell me I didn’t fix that girl’s hair in vain,” James shouted over the hissing of the wind in their ears. “If she’s able to face the others in the Great Hall, you’re not going to chicken out, are you?”
Sirius hesitated, the same fear he had experienced the previous day clawing at his insides again. He had avoided breakfast this morning, choosing to head directly for the greenhouses where their first Herbology lesson had taken place; Peter, bless him, had brought him half a dozen toasts wrapped in a serviette. Now that he had skipped lunch as well, the next time he would have to face the Slytherins would be at dinner. He wasn’t sure he was able to do that.
“You let yourself get beaten by a girl?” James insisted, his words literally dripping with disappointment. “I can’t believe you. You’re more of a coward than Evans is.”
Sirius gritted his teeth and gave James’ waist a brutal squeeze, his fists digging painfully into his best friend’s diaphragm in retaliation. James reacted at once by steering the broom into a thirty-feet dive.
“All right, all right!” Sirius shouted, half in panic and half in anger. “I got it! I’ll have dinner in the Great Hall with everyone else!”
James’ merry laughter was lost in a thunder roll that echoed on the distant mountains. It was clearly time to go back within the shelter of the castle.
***
The storm raged for nearly two weeks, the rain pounding relentlessly on the windows of the castle and sometimes pooling here and there on the topmost floors, where the roof leaked. It wasn’t until the weekend of the second week that the rain ceased at last, and on Saturday morning the sun rose in a periwinkle-blue sky, its reflect gleaming in the lake and in the many ponds that had been created all over the drenched grounds. It was the freshest, most peaceful morning one could possibly imagine.
“Tryouts today!”
A pillow flew straight out of Sirius’ closed curtains and missed James by inches.
“Nice try!” James happily commented, not bothering to lower his voice despite Sirius’ most explicit warning. “The sun’s shining, come one, get up! The Quidditch tryouts are beginning in an hour!”
“Then do us all a favour and GO!” Sirius shouted, his voice muffled as he most probably spoke from under the sheets.
Remus groaned as he straightened up, shielding his eyes with one hand. “Do we have to go through this every morning of every weekend day?” he sleepily asked.
“Well if you got up on your own I wouldn’t have to wake you up,” pointed out James, who was already fully dressed.
“Someone kill him!” Anthony Bollurish roared from behind his curtains.
“Shut up, Bollurish, no one’s asked you for an opinion!” Sirius roared back, pulling his own curtains apart with such violence that they were half torn off their rods. “You!” he added, pointing an accusatory finger at James. “How many times did I tell you not to wake me up on Saturdays and Sundays? How many times?”
“Lost count,” James lightly answered. “Come on, Peter, you’re the only one who hasn’t got up.”
A kind of moan answered him, and Peter’s tousled head poked out of the curtains, remarkably similar to some grotesque hunting trophy fixed on a dark red wall. “Whassgoingon?” he mumbled.
“Quidditch tryouts!” James trumpeted. “Quick, we’re going to be late!”
It was a mark of their close friendship that Sirius, Remus and Peter all got up and started to get dressed, although they did so with many moans, grumbles and acid remarks; then, once Sirius had relieved his frustration by throwing a Leg-Locker at Bollurish, who had been imprudent enough to complain again about his rude awakening, they all trudged along behind a literally bouncing James.
“What position are you applying for, again?” Peter asked with a huge yawn.
“Chaser. They need two Chasers and a Seeker.”
“You seem pretty confident,” Remus cautiously noted. “You’re sure they’ll take you?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” James asked with genuine surprise. “I have as much chance as anybody else!”
“Maybe because you’re smaller and skinnier than most first-years,” Sirius bluntly said. “And because you wear glasses. Not really the athletic type, are you?”
James shrugged, undisturbed by Sirius’ bad temper. “We’ll see…”
After a quick breakfast, they went outdoors in the fresh, rain-washed morning air, and headed towards the Quidditch pitch. James’ sensation of constant excitement was now tinged with nervousness; this was absurd, he had been flying ever since he had found himself able to sit on a broomstick. Yet Sirius’ words, although he knew they had mostly been inspired by his foul mood, kept ringing into his ears. What if they didn’t want to take him, just because he didn’t look like a Quidditch player?
Nonsense. He would show them. He was as much at ease on a broomstick as he was when walking on the ground ” there was no need to be scared.
No need at all…
James came to an abrupt halt, causing Remus to bump into him.
“They’re all already there,” he noted in a toneless voice.
He raised an arm and pointed at a group of students gathered on the pitch next to a fifty-feet-high hoop, all of them carrying broomsticks ” all of them considerably taller than James was.
“Come on,” said Sirius after eyeing the other applicants for a few silent seconds. “You’re going to beat them all. I’ve seen how you fly, it’s like you were born on a broom.”
Remus made an odd noise behind James, something that suspiciously sounded like a disbelieving snort ” then immediately let out a yelp of surprise and pain. James strongly suspected he had been elbowed in the ribs; strangely enough, that didn’t make him feel any better.
“Okay, fine,” he said in the same blank voice, eyes still glued to the group of students. “Well, thanks for the company, I’ll, I’ll just go on alone now…”
Walking up to the group of applicants seemed to take an excruciatingly long time; yet, when he finally halted next to them, he wished it had lasted longer. He gripped his broom tighter in his hands and tried to think like a Quidditch player. He was shorter, therefore lighter than most of his competitors; he could very well use it as an advantage. The day was fine, not too much sun and barely any wind. He had an excellent broom. He would be hard to catch.
“Morning everyone!” called a clear voice, catching James’ attention. The new captain of the team, Katie Collins, a prefect in her sixth year, was standing before them in her blood-red Quidditch robes. Tall and solidly built, her chin authoritatively projected forwards and her fist resting on her hip, she made quite an impression on James.
He knew her to be a fair prefect with a good sense of humour; yet he distinctly felt that she was not one to be crossed.
“So, as you know, they are eleven of you, and we have only three positions to fill,” Collins briskly said. “I will try out everyone and be completely impartial, but some of you will be disappointed. Let it be clear: I don’t care if your feelings are hurt. If you’re not chosen, you stay quiet or you go whine somewhere else. Got it?”
A vague mumble of assent answered her words.
“All right,” she resumed, looking both pleased with herself and a little relieved. “Chasers, you stay here. Seekers, you go over there, on my left.”
Three students, two boys and a girl who all looked to be in their fourth or fifth year, detached themselves from the group and gathered on Collins’ left.
“Fine, we’re going to try out Chasers first,” Collins announced. “If one of you””
“Hey, kid, the Seekers are over there,” a Beater, who hovered in midair on his broom right behind Collins, suddenly called out. He was staring at James.
“I know,” James tensely replied. “I’m a Chaser.”
“With that build? No way,” smirked another applicant, whose face looked oddly misshaped due to the fact that one of his eye was half-closed. “You’re fit for either the Seeker position or the nursery school.”
A girl he was holding by the waist giggled at his words, and hot blood instantly rushed to James’ face. He dropped his eyes, shared between embarrassment and anger, and focused on his hands that gripped the handle of his broomstick so hard that the knuckles were already turning white. We’ll see. Just wait. We’ll see.
“I don’t remember asking you for an opinion, Gudgeon,” Collins said rather dryly, earning herself a glare from the one-eyed boy’s girlfriend. She ignored her, returning her attention to the applicants. “As I was saying, we’re trying out Chasers first… Who wants to start?”
James took several steps back, determined to be tried out last. Most of the taller students seemed to think he was already backing out; he didn’t know what was worse, those who leered at him or those who sent his way an encouraging, indulgent sort of smile. He tore his eyes from them all, with some effort, and concentrated on the game.
The Chaser applicants were of different standards: there was a dreadful one, who gave up after missing his fifth pass; most of the others were reasonably good, although James could tell Collins wasn’t impressed, and the remaining two ” Gudgeon and a girl called Millie Carrol ” were obviously the best of the lot.
“Well, for once the choice isn’t difficult,” said the Beater who had addressed James earlier, peering over Collins’ shoulder at the list she was studying. “The two best were Gudgeon and Carrol.”
“There’s still Potter to try out,” Collins replied without looking up from her list. James straightened up and stepped forward, feeling a surge of gratitude for the Quidditch captain. He was now completely calm; he knew he would easily surpass both Gudgeon and Carrol. He couldn’t wait, as a matter of fact.
“In the air, Potter,” Collins laconically ordered.
James swung his right leg over his broom and kicked the ground, hard ” and a smile slowly blossomed on his face as he soared upwards. He was going to show them.
James easily caught the Quaffle and sped towards the goals, Bennett, the other Chaser, flying close behind him. He swerved to avoid a Bludger sent his way by Collins, passed to Bennett as the other Beater tried to block him, then edged his way around two players and another Bludger to get closer to the goals. He was grinning from ear to ear. This was so easy, so natural.
Bennett reversed-passed to him, and although James hadn’t been expecting it he caught the Quaffle with the very tips of his fingers and immediately tucked it safely under his arm, gripping very hard the handle of his broom with his other hand; the effect was immediate: his broom shot towards the goals like a javelin, forcing the other Beater to hurry out of his way. Two seconds later he had scored.
“Nice one!” Bennett roared from somewhere below him. James beamed and looped the loop in answer.
It was magical. Freed from gravity, James felt there was nothing he couldn’t do, nowhere he couldn’t go. For fifteen minutes he flew, light and graceful, intercepting the Quaffle effortlessly and scoring with baffling easiness. He was too quick for the Keeper, who after the third goal couldn’t help swearing at the top of his lungs every time the Quaffle soared through one of his hoops. He was too small and too swift for the Beaters: by the time they had hit the Bludger in his direction, he was already gone.
This was perfect.
A wheezing sound warned him just in time, and he abruptly swerved to avoid the Bludger that was hurling itself at his back; at the same time however, he caught from the corner of his eye a red blur that flew straight towards him with alarming speed. His feeling of elation stifled by the burst of adrenaline, he toppled over, knowing he was only buying himself a couple of seconds, and rested the Quaffle against his stomach where he held it in place with both elbows. He then shut his eyes tightly and blindly sped forward.
The shock seemed to reverberate in every bone of his body, as he and the unknown player violently collided. His glasses were snatched from his face and fell, his broomstick thrown off-course by the impact; James went into an uncontrollable spin, the blue of the sky and the green of the lawn succeeding each other in front of his eyes with dazzling speed. He was seconds away from crashing, he knew; he gritted his teeth, shut his eyes again to block out the vertiginous succession of colourful blurs, and squeezed his broom between his knees and hands as hard as he could.
Finally he felt the broom vibrate slightly as he forced it back under his control. His eyes shot open again and he brutally straightened up the broomstick, stopping in midair at a mere ten feet from the ground. He thought he could hear the braking spells wail under the pressure and winced at the treatment he inflicted upon his beloved broom.
But all was well. He hadn’t crashed.
And the Quaffle was still safely stuck against his stomach.
“You okay?” called Collins’ voice from somewhere on his right. He distinguished her blurred outline speeding towards him.
“I’m fine,” he called back. “I still have the Quaffle. But… That was a foul, wasn’t it?”
A stunned silence met his words; colour was now starting to creep up his neck and cheeks again as he suddenly wondered if he had just made a fool of himself. What if there was another way he could have gotten away? What if they had been expecting him to pass the Quaffle, instead of curling around it like an overprotective hen?
“Who the hell is this guy?” the other Beater asked in amazement, breaking the silence.
Collins seemed to be shaken out of her stupor. “Well I think that’ll be all, Potter,” she said at last. “You can give the Quaffle back… Thank you.”
James held out the red ball, squinting in order to try and make out the details of her face. He couldn’t tell if she was angry, amused, mocking or simply puzzled. She took the Quaffle without uttering a word then turned her back on him.
“Accio glasses!” said Bennett’s voice. Contrary to his team mates, he sounded positively gleeful. He even clapped James on the back when he pushed in his hand the glasses he had Summoned and repaired.
“That was one hell of a spin, kid,” he said cheerily. “I thought we would have to pick you up with a spoon.”
“Thanks for that,” James mumbled as he took the glasses and put them on. He preferred not to comment on what he doubted was a compliment, and hastily directed his broom to land on the pitch.
He straightened up to see Sirius, Remus and Peter hurrying towards him from the stands where they had watched the whole tryout. Sirius was beaming at him, Remus and Peter looked nothing short of awed.
“See? You dominated the whole tryout!” Sirius said triumphantly. “You were the best, by far.”
“I thought you were going to kill yourself,” Remus said, staring at James with undisguised admiration. “When you crashed into this other guy…”
“I should’ve avoided him,” James bitterly said.
Sirius shook his head. “There’s no way you could have avoided him. Not with a Bludger in your back and the Quaffle in your hands. Trust me, we saw everything from where we sat… Peter was jumping up and down on the bench,” he added with a broad grin.
“You were amazing,” Peter said in hushed tones, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “Amazing.”
James feebly grinned. “Thanks,” he said gratefully.
“Oi! Potter!”
James turned to see Collins beckoning him. Most of the other applicants were already gathered around her, although some of them seemed to have left the pitch before the end of James’ performance. James was immensely pleased to see that Gudgeon and his girlfriend looked quite sullen.
“See you later,” Sirius said in a low voice, as he gave him a slight push between the shoulder blades. James nodded and hastened towards Collins.
“Well,” said the latter after James had joined her, “I don’t think the results are going to be a big surprise… Gudgeon and Potter, you’re in.”
James was unable to bite back an exclamation of joy, causing Bennett and the other Beater to laugh; the Keeper still looked a bit vexed but good-naturedly grinned at James, and the corners of Collins’ mouth twitched.
“I hope I won’t be asked to baby-sit,” Gudgeon said loudly. James’ smile faded, but before he had the time to reply, Collins asked the whole team to get back in the air for the Seeker tryout.
James turned away from the one-eyed Chaser and mounted his broom yet again, taking off immediately and speeding towards the other end of the pitch in order to avoid finding himself next to Gudgeon. His good mood had already been spoiled, and there was now something uncharacteristically brutal in the way he steered his broom; if Gudgeon wanted a war, he was going to get one.
“Potter,” said a voice right behind him. He turned and found himself face to face with Collins.
“A word of advice,” she said very seriously. “You’re the youngest, the smallest and the newest player here. Keep your head down for a while, okay? Stop acting the star of the team. That’s irritating.”
James sighed. “Okay,” he said gloomily.
“I’m not saying you’re a bad player,” she hastily added. “You’ve got a huge talent. But until further notice Bennett is the head Chaser, and I am the Captain of this team. Just play your part, you’ll climb the hierarchic ladder soon enough.”
“Right.”
“Great,” she smiled at him. “Happy to have you on the team.”
“Happy to be on the team,” James replied with a reluctant grin of his own. Collins nodded at him and he set off, heading for the right side of the goals ” where he belonged as the youngest Chaser.
“All right Potter, Gudgeon,” Bennett shouted as James drew closer to the two other Chasers. “Remember ” this is Quidditch. Not ballet. Serious business!”
Aye sir, James inwardly answered, unable to suppress the smile that finally spread on his face.
Symphony for Quartet by Tinn Tam
Chapter Notes: I am so, so sorry for the delay. I hope some of you who have been following Symphony since the beginning kept that story in a corner despite the scandalously long wait; those, I’d like to thank. And to all, I hope you will enjoy the chapter.