week 2
A few days after that game, team Gryffindor were all at lunch during school.
"So tonight's your first practice with the new team?" Frank confirmed.
"Guess so, I wonder what they're like off the ice. James?" Marlene started. "I know you said they're not good, and they play dirty, but what're they actually like?" James paused, thinking back to his last summer at Durmstrang. In the beginning, he was pretending to like those dicks because they were his only friends, in the middle he couldn't make it a full day of practices and activities because it was one panic attack after the other, and the end was simply him alone all of the time because his friends decided they didn't want to deal with 'someone like him'.
That's why he'd never tell the Gryffindors about his anxiety, they'll just leave him too. And he would never tell them about how he almost had to quit hockey, they'd think he's disloyal.
"I mean, they were my friends for a while, so I guess they can be nice, just a big sense of humor, lots of teasing, but you know, that's just how dudes are... but I guess I don't know what they're like now. They wouldn't have done what they did to me last year." James explained, careful not to let anything from the end of their friendship come up. His team nodded, thinking they knew what happened. But they didn't.
-
"Okay teams, huddle up. I suggest you all go around and introduce yourself. I'm Coach McGonagall. I have coached the Gryffindors for many years now and I look forward to meeting the rest of our team." McGonagall started at the beginning of practice.
"I'm Marlene from team Gryffindor. This is my co-captain James." Marlene explained.
"Name's Amos Diggory, Hufflepuff. This is Melinda Higgins, also Hufflepuff." Amos continued. James knew Amos from camp. He was a good guy, very kind, played well. James was always weirdly fascinated by the guy. Perhaps he was everything James wanted to be. He was alike James, on the surface that was. Amos never had to fear the idea of never marrying or not having friends, disappointing his family.
"I'm Pandora Rosier, I go to Ravenclaw with Xenophilius." James recognized Pandora as well. She had attended this past year of camp, a twin sister of the Slytherin quidditch star, Evan. She was timid but a good player though very close friends with Regulus.
"I'm Snape from Slytherin. Regulus, Barty, Evan, Dorcas." Snape said tiredly. He lazily gestured to the two boys on the sides of him. James knew not to look at them. He had to keep it together.
"Everyone shares our locker room, then come out here for practice. It'll be a quick one; we'll just scrimmage." The team headed into the locker room, and it wasn't until they were away from the coach that Barty started up, "Wow, one locker room for the entire preppy private school."
"Then don't join our team, you guys are the ones who joined a Gryffindor based team." Marlene fired back. James sighed, the dread bubbling up higher, he knew a panic attack was coming, he just had to keep it under control until after he left. He was going home tonight too, the weekend of his mum's birthday gave him the opportunity to return home, McGonagall going with him as she was a very close friend of the Potter's.
"Well, I'd rather have not been selected for this team than practice this broke-ass rink." Snape spat. Evan slammed his locker shut and it echoed through the room.
"Careful, you're gonna knock some rust off the walls if you do that too hard," Regulus said with a fake laugh. "Or I guess you lot aren't strong enough to do that, all that does is make Jamsie over there flinch." James froze, then took a breath, not sure if he should say anything, eventually opting not too; mostly from the fear he would end up freaking out.
Thankfully McGonagall called for them to all get out on the ice so no one could question what they had just heard.
-
James stood at the edge of the rink, his skates still feeling a little stiff, his breath clouding in the cold air. The Slytherin coach, Slughorn, clapped his hands and called for everyone to gather. James made his way over with the group, trying to shake off the nerves that were slowly creeping in. His heart raced with anticipation and something else. He could feel his palms start to sweat, even though the ice chilled the rest of him.
"Team, let’s make sure we’re ready to hit the ice and get some real work done," the coach said, his voice cutting through the clatter of sticks. James glanced up making accidental eye-contact with Regulus. They held it for no longer than two seconds, but that was two seconds longer than James had looked at him in months. It hadn’t been long since they’d played together, but it felt like an eternity.
"Look who made the team," Barty smirked as he clapped James on the back a little harder than necessary. "Didn’t think you would qualify if I'm being honest, Jamsie. Didn't even think you'd keep playing. Thought you were still hiding from the game, Potter."
James’ jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. "Nice to see you too, Barty."
Evan snickered from behind him. "Yeah, all those weeks of taking a break really did wonders for your skills." His tone was lighter than Barty's, but the words stung more than he wanted to admit.
Snape, who had always been quieter but sharper, leaned in and added, "Hope you didn’t forget how to skate. We wouldn’t want you holding us back."
Regulus gave James a quick, scrutinizing glance, his eyes narrowing slightly before he turned away, not saying a word. But the silence was almost worse than the insults he'd been given.
James swallowed, feeling the familiar knot tighten in his chest. He nodded, trying to focus on the rink and not the lingering tension. He couldn’t let them get to him. Not now, not after everything he’d been through to get here. McGonagall blew the whistle, signaling the start of their scrimmage. James tried to shake off the unease in his gut, adjusting his helmet and gripping his stick a little tighter. He took his place on the ice, skating in slow, practiced loops to warm up, but his teammates’ taunts followed him like shadows.
The puck dropped, and they were off. Though it was only a scrimmage, almost immediately, Barty was on him, sliding past him with an exaggerated swipe of the stick. "Watch your back, Jamsie," he called out, his voice just loud enough to make James flinch. Regulus wasn’t far behind, sneaking in a light tap to James’ side as they jostled for position near the net. The hit wasn’t hard, but the slight push of contact was enough to knock James off balance, and he struggled to recover.
"Getting soft, huh?" Evan’s voice carried through the rink. "Thought you were supposed to be a top player. What happened?" James’ hands tightened on his stick, his breath catching in his throat. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself harder, trying to ignore the rising sense of panic building in his chest.
But it didn’t stop. Barty knocked him again, harder this time, sending James sprawling. "You alright, Potter?" He asked, his tone laced with mock concern. "This triggering another one of your... can't catch your breath moments?"
James barely managed to get up, the sting of the hit making his legs feel like jelly. He couldn’t afford to fall apart here. Not again. The pressure—the stress of being back, of feeling like he was a target again, of failing in front of these people—was starting to overwhelm him. He couldn’t breathe. He swiped the sweat from his brow, shaking his head, trying to clear the fog in his mind. His body was in motion, but his thoughts were swirling out of control.
Snape’s voice cut through, more direct than the others. "Pathetic, Potter. You can’t even keep up. You used to be better than this."
James’ chest tightened. His pulse raced. The world around him started to narrow, the rink growing smaller as the pressure built inside him. His breaths came faster, too fast—shallow. His vision flickered at the edges, the light in the arena blurring. Not again. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t let anyone see. He couldn’t show weakness. Barty came at him again, this time with more force, and James barely reacted in time. The impact made his head spin, and he stumbled. His legs wobbled as he tried to steady himself, but his body wasn’t responding the way it should.
"James!" Marlene snapped, irritated, as James barely managed to skate back into position. "Come on, keep your head in the game."
But James could feel the walls closing in. The teasing, the hits, the words—it was too much. Panic bubbled up inside him, hot and suffocating, but he fought it down with everything he had. He couldn’t let it happen here, not in front of them. Not in front of anyone. His mind raced, each breath feeling like it might be his last. His hands shook as he gripped his stick, but he didn’t let it show. He couldn’t afford to. The game, the ice, everything felt like it was spinning too fast, the pressure building higher and higher.
But James told himself that all he had to do was get through this game, then he could go home and let all of the anxiety out of him. He broke free from his teammates’ taunts, trying to push through the fog. He needed to be fast, sharp, focused. He couldn’t let them see. He couldn’t let them win. The practice went on, but for James, it was just a blur. And deep down, he knew the worst part wasn’t the game itself. It was that feeling—the one he couldn’t shake—that he was still the same kid who had fallen apart before, and he was afraid it was happening again.
It finally hit the last few minutes, but once again, the Slytherins came to fight dirty as it approached the end. It started out normal, just very aggressive checking, but James could handle it. It's part of the game, that doesn't really mess with him. Then they were tripping him, whispering his cute little nickname as he went by, but James was so focused on keeping this panic down that it almost didn't bother him. Until it did.
James was on the puck, he was going to score. He was pulling it away from Snape, but then Snape started speaking. "Hey Jamsie, I've seen the way you cringe when we talk to you, I can see when you try to hide the panic. But it's coming, you know it, go ahead, let it out. Nothing stopped you from letting it out last year. What about the letter to Coach Slughorn about quitting?" James finally pulled the puck back and shot it, but with his hands trembling from Snape's words, he missed.
"Seriously Potter?! Shit was wide open!" Dorcas groaned, and the nearby players groaned as well but still smacked him on the back, respectively, as they always do because they're still teammates and it's one error.
That was something that never happened during James' days with the Slytherins being on his team. The slaps on his back, although they were supposed to be reassuring, through the mess of his mind, instantly brought James back to last season. He was mid-panic attack, Slughorn had called a time-out for James to 'catch his breath' a week after his quitting letter, where Slughorn had made him finish out the season. Instead of trying to calm James down or leave him alone, Barty smacked him across the back, Snape punched him in the face, Evan yelled at him, and Regulus wouldn't even look in his direction.
James snapped out of it. He could still keep this panic attack down. He got hold of the puck again, and this time it was Barty on his defense. "Hey don't cry Jamsie, it'll be okay," he said mockingly. "There's only a few seconds left, are you gonna score? Or are you gonna choke?"
This time it was Amos who was able to rip the puck away as James' gloves started slipping against his stick and scored it, ending the scrimmage.
"Okay, everybody off! Good game, see you guys for real games this week." the coaches said briefly and let everyone change. James' mind was racing, his vision blurry, his hands and legs trembling, breathing rapid.
He had one thing on his mind, Get. Out. Of. There.
He could only play off the breathing for so long; he'd been playing for years, but this wasn't enough to make him physically unable to catch his breath. He ignored everyone as they did a combination of celebrating their victories and bullying the others' mistakes. He knew his wide-open miss was being thrown around, but he genuinely couldn't bring himself to do anything more than get back to his locker.
He was changed in a matter of seconds, and he left without even a goodbye to his team, which was unusual for the extroverted boy, but he could deal with their questions later. He got outside before everyone else, dragging his bag to the side of the building, feeling like it had gained a thousand pounds.
James finally stopped when he was around the corner from the parking lot, letting out his breath. It was rapid, it was raw, and it was painful; he knew his throat would be sore tomorrow. He leaned against the building, letting the wind dry his sweat and tears, as he desperately reached for something to hold him up. He remembered that sitting was a better way to deal with this, so he sat on the sidewalk like a little kid as his tears sped up despite his wish.
He knew it would be over soon, he just had to remember that. His phone rang, which snapped him out of his head a little. He calmed down slightly. It was McGonagall, the memory of her driving him back to his family's house suddenly reentering his mind.
His hands shook, but he managed to accept after a few rings.
"James?" James held his breath in an attempt to keep his coach from hearing his wheezes. "I'm at the front of the rink, are you alright?"
He cleared his throat, breathing again. This would definitely be interesting to spend a long car ride with her. "H-hey, hey, I'm here. J-j-just around back is all. I forgot you were taking me home so I was... cooling off before the walk back up to school." Her car appeared moments later and James quickly wiped his face, took another breath, and sat down, AC hitting his face instantly.
"We work you too hard?" James nodded with a forced laugh and tried to hold his breath again, which just resulted in a more panicked sound as he tried to breathe. "Woah, woah, calm down." James felt a hand on his bouncing knee but he couldn't bring himself to do anything to stop it.
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, I've just never seen you like this. Did something happen? James?" James' eyes were closed, still hyperventilating. He felt the car make a sudden turn and he opened his eyes to see them pull into a random fast food restaurant parking lot where they sat in silence for a minute before James coughed.
"I'm sorry, I was just-"
"Hey, it's alright. I get it. You don't have to hide it, can I just ask what caused it? I knew you to be doing pretty well with managing your anxiety." McGonagall said lightly.
"My old team. They know what gets under my skin and they're using it a ton. And now I'm with them all the time again."
"You have to remember that their words can't actually hurt you, and you're taking the high road, so you're better than them, and you're definitely in a better place than you were last year. I'm sure the others help you?"
"They don't know, they're not going to know, people knowing is why I'm in this situation in the first place."
"Okay, okay, they don't have to know. but remember, those are your people, not the ones trying to hurt you. Just stay tough, you're a tough guy, James. But tough people get help sometimes."
"No they don't."
"Do you know how many times Slughorn has called me for help during this season alone? Or Dumbledore when he created this team at all?"
"... Then can you give him help with getting rid of all of the rust in the locker rooms?"
-
After the scrimmage came to an end, Regulus didn't feel tired or excited, he felt dirty. Not the sweat on his forehead or the dirt under his nails, he felt shameful. Hurting James like that, just because they could. Back during the Team USA summer league, that behavior would have definitely triggered James to have a panic attack right there on the ice. Since he hadn't, Regulus tried to make himself believe that meant he'd grown out of them all together.
The hockey rink parking lot was nearly empty, the sharp scent of cold air lingering even as the cars began to trickle out, Coach McGonagall's being one of them, James clearly in the passenger seat. For the brief moment he could see James' face, Regulus thought he might've spotted the familiar jagged breathing and uncomfortable seated position, but someone lightly slapped his shoulder to get his attention. Regulus sat in the back seat of Evan's car, the engine idling, staring blankly out the window. His friends were all laughing about something, likely about Potter, but Regulus didn't bother to listen in.
He was shocked to see Pandora let out a slight chuckle at some of the jokes, she was always a firm stander for her beliefs and this wasn't one of them. But before he could dwell on that too much, they pulled into the McDonald's across from the rink, pausing for an argument between Evan and Barty over God knows what.
Before he pulled his eyes off the window to get out with everyone, he saw it again. McGonagall's gray Lexus and James, the boy he tried to convince himself was fine, was unraveling. He could see the signs—shaky hands, that tight-lipped smile that never reached his eyes, the way he seemed to drift in and out of focus like he was somewhere else, a place he couldn’t bring anyone to. Regulus had seen this happen too many times before.
He knew the scrimmage had been brutal. It always was when Barty, Evan, and Snape were involved, but this time it was different. James hadn’t fought back. He hadn’t even reacted. Regulus had watched him struggle, taking hit after hit, word after word, but it wasn’t just the game—it was something deeper. He wasn't growing out of his panic attacks, he was getting them, just significantly worse by stuffing them down.
Regulus finally got out of the car, following his friends. A few cars were leaving, their taillights fading into the dark, but one still sat—James’ car. It wasn’t moving. He wasn’t leaving. He hadn’t really seen it happen in years, but there was no mistaking it. The panic. The way James looked like he might just snap in half, but didn’t. Not until the pressure became too much. Regulus could see it now, unfolding in his mind—James, breathing too fast, eyes wide with that same terror he used to have when they were on the same team. The fear that would grip him and refuse to let go. The same fear he’d seen years ago. He shifted in his seat, hand still resting on the gear shift, fighting with himself. Should he go over? Should he do something?
Regulus continued to walk, pausing slightly when he went to open the door. He clenched his fingers around the door handle, using everything in his power to not turn back around. It wasn't his business. Not anymore.
The last few summers, when they were younger, it had been a different story. Back then, it was his responsibility to help. When they were teammates, when James had his first hockey-induced panic attack during a brutal game—Regulus had stepped in. He had unfortunately known exactly what to do, seeing his brother face them frequently in their childhood. Before Sirius left, before Regulus knew that he should've been scared.
But now? Now everything was different. Regulus had changed. Sirius had changed. James had changed.
The pressure from his new friends, from the people who now had his back, was too much. He had worked too hard to build up the kind of reputation he had now, to be accepted by the boys who never hesitated to torment James.
If he stepped in now, what would they think? What would his family say? His mother, always so demanding, always so cold—he’d never understand. His reputation, the one he’d fought so hard to build, would crumble in an instant.
“Did you see the look on Potter’s face when we scored that goal on him?” Snape continued, breaking Regulus out of his guilt spiral for a moment.
“Yeah, like a deer caught in headlights,” Evan, added, laughing loudly. “I mean we're acting like we didn’t know he was so easy to break.” The others chimed in, egging each other on. Regulus felt the table shift, and for a split second, he wondered if James was still out there—still struggling.
He didn’t have to wonder for long. Through the restaurant's wide window, Regulus caught a glimpse of McGonagall speaking softly to James, but James wasn’t responding. He was shaking. Trembling, almost violently, his face contorted in a way that made Regulus’ stomach twist.
"Regulus?" It was Pandora's voice, cutting through the fog of his inner panic. No one else could see what he was looking at by the angle they were seated at. "You alright, man? You’re kinda zoning out.” But Regulus didn’t hear her. His mind had already been swept away, caught in a darker time.
-
He recalled on a game last year, James had been playing alright, but the team hadn't done well and since James was the player with the most game time action, naturally they blamed him first. At first it had been rude but not unbearable.
But that night? That night had been hell.
The locker room buzzed with energy before the game, but Regulus had seen it coming—James was fidgeting with his skates, avoiding eye contact with everyone. The rest of the team was already getting into position, stretching out, but James hadn’t moved from his spot.
And then, the teasing began.
"Hey, Potter, you sure you know how to skate?” The team's longest lasting player, Snape, had laughed, shoving him lightly. “Maybe you should sit this one out, huh?”
The others laughed, Regulus included, but James didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh along. He just stared at his skates.
“Maybe we should get someone to tie your laces for you,” Barty piped up.
It wasn’t long before James’ face had gone pale, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His hands trembled at his sides. The group circled him, closing in as he pressed himself against the lockers, eyes wide with panic.
“Just get out there, Potter,” someone sneered, kicking the bottom of his skates, making James stumble. “What’s the matter? Scared?”
James’ chest had begun to rise and fall too quickly, his breath ragged as his legs wobbled beneath him. Regulus had watched it all from a distance, his heart pounding in his chest as his friends taunted James further, pushing him closer to the edge. They were having fun—having a laugh at James’ expense—but Regulus saw something different. He saw the fear, the panic building up, the way James was unable to breathe or focus.
Regulus felt the fear in his own body. He had watched this before, with Sirius. He knew the terrible sinking feeling, the permanent question of whether he was going to puke or burst into tears. He couldn't just watch, but he couldn't stay in the locker room any longer.
He hadn’t done anything. Not right away. It had taken a long time for him to go and help But he stayed silent. He couldn’t go out there. Not now.
And so, Regulus sat there, trapped in his own guilt, as his new friends laughed around him. He kept his gaze fixed on the table, too afraid to turn back to the window and face the consequences of his inaction.
Just like he had back then.