9
Amita hadn’t thought she’d ever cheer for Slytherin. Scratch that. She was certain she never would cheer for Slytherin. But she was desperate, even more so after seeing Lily and Marlene do wordless spells so casually in Hogsmeade.
She hadn’t worn any green, hadn’t sat in the Slytherin stands—that would be absolutely mad—and hadn’t made any cheesy poster either. But she had locked eyes with the despicable wizard and had given him a thumbs up with an angry scowl.
Carrow laughed, accidentally bumping into a particularly annoyed Slytherin seeker as he hunched over.
Amita scrunched her nose. She sure hoped he had nice calligraphy.
“You should’ve let me draw whiskers on you, Amita,” Lily joked. “Everyone’s got their Gryffindor spirit on!” Her smile widened as she pointed at herself. She had painted thin gold and maroon lines on her cheeks and wore the Gryffindor scarf. “Look at Peter, he did amazing.”
The boy sure gave it his all. His light-brown hair had been teased to create a lion’s mane, and he was wearing James’ old Quidditch Jersey. He even had a muggle megaphone and hand-clappers.
“Can’t Lily,” Amita shrugged, “I’m rooting for Slytherin for this one.”
Peter turned around to face her, scandalized, while Lily let out a single shocked laugh before falling into a giggle frenzy. “You’re so funny.”
Amita didn’t correct her. Instead, she just watched as the Gryffindor team formed a hoop in the sky, circling one another in a start-of-game ritual. The Slytherins sneered from the ground.
“Now, now,” a loud voice boomed from the commentator’s box, “no need to be so scared at the Gryffindors’ brilliant display of power, Slytherins.”
“Remus!” Peter pretty much squealed at hearing his best friend’s voice. “Brilliant as always!”
Amita couldn’t help, but smile at his enthusiasm. Maybe next time she’d wear red and gold paint too.
“It seems that Carrow is too shocked to gift us with his usual taunting,” Remus continued, clearly biased. Peter cheered.
Carrow did in fact seem a lot calmer than usual.
His shoulders were laid-back, a confident smile on his face.
That is the true display of power, Amita surprised herself thinking. Unperturbed calmness, how Slytherin of him.
His nonchalantness wasn’t to be confused for negligence, however. Even from the stands, she could see his eyes moving constantly, regularly steadying on an obvious flaw he had picked out before continuing his analysis.
Once they fell upon James’, however, they did not resume.
***
The game had been going on for two hours at this point.
With a new third-year seeker, James was just gladly surprised she was able to break off Regulus’ attempts at catching the snitch for this long. That boy was talented. He could recognize that much without his anger against him and his family cloud his judgment.
He dived recklessly, caught the Quaffle, threw it in the left—no, the right hoop. 10 points.
James distantly heard Remus’ voice spouting nonsense again, brilliantly distracting the opposite team whenever he could. He was part of the team, no matter if he was flying with them or not.
After a quick insult to the seemingly static Slytherin beaters, he reminded the crowd that it was a simple “practice match”, and that they shouldn’t kill one another after the match, no matter the outcome.
James snickered. Right, tell that to rabid fans when inter-house animosity is at an all-time high.
The boos in the stadium were deafening, rumbling the goal hoops with the sheer force of them.
He smirked and accelerated as the older McKinnon passed him the Quaffle. Just 3 more goals and they could let mini-Black catch the snitch anyway. They were almost there.
He leaned forward, the acceleration against the wind making his hair stand on end.
He raised his arm to aim. Left hoop? No. Center hoop—
The Quaffle fell to the ground.
***
The boos had suddenly stopped, fizzing out like a weak flame, before roaring back to life, a sea of red and gold ablaze with fury.
Amita was certain Lily had stopped breathing. Peter had seemed on the verge of tears, but he was now screaming the most obscene insults she had ever heard.
It had happened so fast, Amita wasn’t sure how to react.
How could you, when your friend—her friend—was being dragged away on a stretcher, the strength of the Bludger practically ripping his arm from his socket and making him pass out?
Carrow could’ve killed him.
But he hadn’t, her mind nagged, James wouldn’t die like this.
James could’ve died.
The infuriated sea soon subsided, giving way to waves of acclaim. The youngest McKinnon dismounted her broom, ran into her sister’s embrace.
“I couldn’t—“ she started, her voice practically booming inside the stadium. “I couldn’t let it all go to waste!”
“You did good,” Marlene cried out, placing her sister on her shoulders. “Merlin! You did fantastic!”
Peter roared with enthusiasm—literally—and a few Gryffindors followed his lead with cheesy smiles. He then turned around to a still shocked Lily, rubbed her back a few times and reassured her that Poppy is bloody amazing.
“Right!” She exclaimed, trying to regain her fervour. “James wouldn’t want us to be sad after a Gryffindor win!”
“Exactly, Lily!” Peter jumped up and down. “Exactly! We’ll go meet him later and tell him all about Evelyn’s save!! But, for now, let’s go congratulate the others!”
The boy gripped her hand and practically ran down the bleachers. Amita tried to follow—she really did—but they were too fast, and there were too many people, and she didn’t want to touch anyone, and she didn’t want to think about Carrow or face Sirius.
Still, she followed Lily’s auburn locks in the swarm of gold and red, dodging eager fans left and right.
“Gosh, Sirius was amazing,” one swooned.
“But McKinnon’s dive was crazy, almost like that Wornski dude,” acknowledged another.
“Joseph Wronski! Why do you keep getting his name wrong ?!”
Amita listened with rabid attention trying to think of anything, but what had happened on the pitch.
“Amita!” She heard from down on the grass and whipped her head around at the feminine voice.
“Are you coming? I want to congratulate mini-Marlene and big-Marlene!” Lily shouted, a still quivering smile on her face.
“Coming!” She yelled back, avoiding people with a few ‘sorry’ here and there.
When she had gotten close enough, Lily entered beneath the stadium, where the changing rooms were. Amita was about to enter as well, almost finished turning around the bend, when she stepped on someone’s foot.
***
Regulus gripped at his hair in frustration. He had lost to his brother. Again.
It didn’t matter if it was a practice match, it didn’t matter if it was only a game, it didn’t matter if Sirius was a year older : it didn’t change the fact that Regulus had lost.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he noticed a swarm of Gryffindor girls heading for the changing rooms, yelling his brother’s name. He was about to turn around when a foot stepped on his own, fuelling his anger even more. His mouth opened to scream in the girl’s direction when her knees buckled and she grabbed his jersey, her fingers accidentally grazing his skin.
She was hyperventilating, eyes glazed over as she looked at him without truly seeing him. Regulus looked around himself in urgency, but no one looked their way, too focused on congratulating the winners. He didn’t feel jealous anymore, only concerned and slightly frantic, as the girl grabbed at her throat, clawing at her skin.
He had quickly grabbed her hands when he noticed the blood pearl at her neck and dragged her to the nearby door, getting her to sit down against the closest wall. His brother had always stressed the importance of sitting down on the floor when you felt close to fainting.
“Breathe,” he told her.
When she did nothing, but pant, he snapped, frustrated, “Breathe, damn it!”
Her eyes turned over to him, panic filling her eyes. “Look at me,” he spoke. “Follow my breathing and tell me what you can hear around you right now.”
She inhaled shakily.
“I- I can hear your voice.”
“Good, yes,” he spoke once more, trying to focus her attention. “Anything else?”
She inhaled once more.
“The ruckus inside.”
Regulus chuckled pitifully.
“Your laugh.” She inhaled again. “McGonagall boasting to Slughorn. Lily calling my name…”
She did a double take, head snapping in the door’s direction. “Lily calling my name?”
“Yes, she is,” Regulus answered, not wishing for the girl to doubt her sanity at the moment. “I’ll be gone for a moment.”
Amita nodded. Regulus motioned her to breathe before he walked inside, heading for the redhead girl.
“Evans,” he called, trying to catch her attention.
The Muggleborn looked over at him, clearly confused and slightly scared as to why he was speaking to her.
“Rowle had a panic attack.”
As if on cue, the girl’s eyes grew exponentially. “Where is she?”
Regulus motioned her to follow him outside. He couldn’t help, but note from how far away she followed him. When they arrived, Amita was picking grass blades and looking at the sky. Her wrist had turned an irritated shade of red, but her neck wasn’t worse off, so he considered it a win.
“Oh, hey,” she spoke in her friend’s direction, before raising to her eye-level a Lily flower. “Look what I found!”
Regulus silently applauded her ability to compose herself so quickly. “I need to change,” he replied dismissively before bolting for the changing room and nearly stumbling into Aiden Carrow as he opened the door.
“Where’d you go to?” the older boy asked, eyebrows raised.
“It’s none of your business, is it?” Regulus knew the sudden defensiveness was out of character, but he hoped Carrow would be too self-absorbed to notice.
The Slytherin beater looked at him appraisingly before letting the matter go.“Finally got a girlfriend?” he joked with that gut-churning smile of his and a pat on the shoulder.
Regulus simply looked at him and sighed.