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Paragons
of delight and uncertainty
by Raven
PG-13, het, Lily/James. James likes Lily. Maybe not as much as he likes Quidditch. She might like him, too - but unfortunately, Sirius, Remus and Peter have got it in their heads to be helpful. The Slytherins are less than amused by proceedings. Complications ensue. With grateful thanks to Pirate Perian for the thorough beta, to Hathor for the loan of her personality, and to Leigh, Tory and Meredith for the ideas.
The retelling of some events that did take place at Hogwarts’ School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the summer of the year nineteen seventy-six, Anno Domini.
Chapter Nine - in which it pays to have read Quidditch Through The Ages
The commentator was up and running as soon as the two teams launched themselves into the air. “After that disgustingly obvious deliberate attack…”
“Weasley!”
“Sorry, after that undeniably accidental accident, Gryffindor have elected to continue playing, bringing on a substitute Seeker, sixth-year Remus Lupin. As play commences, Gryffindor have possession…”
Moth had the Quaffle. Preferring not to trust a Chaser formation just yet, she didn’t pass, dodging Beaters, Bludgers and Keeper to throw it straight towards the Slytherin goal hoops.
“Ten points to Gryffindor! That brings the scores nearly level, sixty-fifty in favour of Slytherin.”
At this point, one of the Slytherin Chasers attempted to intercept, but James dodged neatly, aiming the Quaffle at the goal himself. He missed, giving Slytherin possession, and there was a roar of dismay from the stands. James turned and sat still in mid-air, watching as Cheetham and Moth took off in pursuit. He couldn’t help them, as they’d had much more of a head start than he had, so he lingered. He felt the sudden rush of wind that meant someone was about to fly past him, and looked up to see Remus flying over his head. He grinned and flew off down the pitch. Cheetham had the Quaffle, and she was looking for James expectantly. She lobbed it in his direction just as a Beater launched a Bludger at her, and he soared, threw the Quaffle down to Moth, and smiled as Bill Weasley yelled, “Goal! It’s sixty-all!”
James looked up for a second to see the scoreboard, and turned to see all of the Chasers suddenly lose concentration. They hung in midair, watching something behind James’s head. James swung around.
“That’s Slytherin Seeker Rosier!” yelled Bill Weasley. “He’s seen the Snitch! Look at him go!”
Silence descended upon the crowd as they watched, open-mouthed. Rosier had been flying higher than most of the other players, and was now in a steep dive, heading straight towards the pitch. Remus had been caught off-guard, but he had been flying lower than Rosier and was rapidly catching up.
“There’s Lupin, he’s gaining on him, but he’ll never make it… come on…”
Rosier was almost there. As James watched, he slowed down rapidly just before he ploughed into the ground, and Remus, a couple of metres behind him, seemed to suddenly realise exactly what was happening. Smoothly, he changed direction, flying straight ahead instead of downwards. Rosier lifted from his dive and flew upwards.
The two Seekers collided with a sickening crunch.
“I think that’s a record,” observed Bill Weasley. “Three Seekers in one match?”
Both sets of stands erupted with sounds of dismay. Above them, James resisted the urge to fly closer, painfully aware that it would be his fault if Remus had been hurt. He didn’t seem to have been, however, as he merely disentangling himself from the collision and flew unsteadily away. After a brief consultation with Madam Hooch to make sure no foul had been committed, James flew after him. “What…” he began, but Remus cut him off.
“He didn’t really see the Snitch,” Remus whispered hurriedly. “It’s in that book of yours… something Feint, I don’t know, it was supposed to make me crash, just not into him.”
Wronski Feint, thought James, wondering for a moment when Remus had ever read Quidditch Through The Ages, but was forced to push it to the back of his mind as play resumed.
The Slytherin Chasers were staging a comeback. Gloomily, James noted the resurgence of their tried-and-tested technique. He and Cheetham were ruthlessly attacked by the Bludgers, leaving only Moth to attempt to get the Quaffle. Without adequate support, she failed, and Slytherin took the opportunity to get back into the lead, scoring three times to much Gryffindor consternation.
Suddenly, Bill Weasley yelled, “I don’t believe it!”
James had just thrown the Quaffle. He turned a hundred and eighty degrees to see it fly unnoticed by Cheetham’s head. Like everyone else, she was transfixed by what was happening on the other end of the pitch.
James blinked. It was like some kind of magical replay; events seemed to be unfolding themselves in exactly the same sequence over again. Remus, who until a minute ago had been far above, was in a dive towards the pitch. Rosier was alongside him, desperately trying to get in the way of the Gryffindor Seeker and generally failing. Oh, no. James was inwardly cringing. No, no… he’ll never fall for that, Remus…
“Is this simple rehashing of old tactics?” asked the commentator. “I advise you to bear in mind Lupin is only a substitute…”
Rosier seemed to have come to the same conclusion. The two were close to the ground when he suddenly stopped and changed direction, flying upwards and finding a place to simply hang in space and watch Remus with a sneer on his face.
James didn’t know if he could bear to watch. Remus must have known Rosier was no longer following him, but James had experience of dives as ruthlessly steep as that – you needed time to stop. Remus didn’t have it.
With seconds to go, James averted his eyes, concentrating on finding Sirius and Peter in the crowd, forcing himself not to look.
When he couldn’t stand it any more, he looked back and saw that Remus had ploughed straight into the pitch, landing on all fours on the ground. Even from this distance, James could see how unsteady he was, rolling over in the mud, and inwardly cursed himself for ever recommending him as Seeker. Madam Pomfrey was already on her way towards him, no doubt absolutely furious.
With difficulty, Remus staggered to his feet, bedraggled and shaking and with a large amount of mud in his hair. He was holding off Madam Pomfrey with one hand. He held up the other hand for the whole stadium to see.
He’d got the Snitch.