James Potter and the Year of Chasing

The enigma of Lily Evans was still on James’ mind the next morning. He woke early and went to breakfast without rousing any of the others, mulling over the events of the previous night. He and Peter had returned to the Gryffindor common room to find Sirius and Remus waiting with a table of food and expectant expressions. Peter had related their exploits with appropriate melodrama, laying particular detail on the brief chase scene. James had interrupted to describe the locks on Snape’s trunk in terms that reduced everyone to fits of laughter. But when Peter brought up Lily and the way she’d faced down Snape, James found himself steering the subject towards Hallowe’en. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want his brief conversation with her discussed. Fortunately the change of subject had been eagerly embraced; all four boys were delighted by the prospect of Snape's upcoming humiliation.

But Lily remained in the back of James’ head, and he found himself looking for her in the Great Hall at breakfast. Sure enough, she was sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table, involved in an animated discussion with several other girls. James frowned, trying to organize what he knew of her into some semblance of order. The problem was that he didn’t know much, for all that they were in the same year. His attention was usually given to his immediate friends and Quidditch; his path hadn’t crossed with hers on many occasions. She was good at her lessons, particularly Charms. She had many friends; he recognized one of the girls she was sitting with now as Demeter Demaris, who’d had a brief tempestuous fling with Sirius the previous year. She was well liked, particularly by younger students, and she took her prefect duties seriously.

That last was what was confusing him, James decided. If Lily was as responsible as she seemed, why had she helped deceive Professor Point? Why hadn’t she just turned him in? It was true that she obviously loathed Snape, which was interesting in and of itself. And she’d manipulated the scene brilliantly, leaving the Slytherin without a leg to stand on. But it didn’t fit with his impression of her. As a prefect, she should have turned him in. Gryffindors weren’t even supposed to know where the Slytherin dorms were, much less enter them, and he’d as good as said that he’d stolen from Snape. Prefects were supposed to help prevent such inter-house rivalry, to say nothing of trespassing and burglary.

Of course, James mused, he was a prefect too, and he’d been the one causing all the trouble. Maybe he’d just overestimated Lily’s sense of duty.

“You’re up early,” a wry voice said. “It’s the weekend, dolt. Why aren’t you still in bed?”

James grinned as Remus sat down beside him. “Kit’s holding a planning session for the match against Ravenclaw next week, and damned if I’m sitting through one of his lectures without some breakfast. What’s your excuse for not lounging about?”

“The early bird gets the flobberworm; I want to get started on that Quintaped essay.”

James groaned. “Don’t be too productive, Remus. You’ll make the rest of us look bad.”

“That was the idea,” the other boy said mildly, smiling. “Pass the marmalade.”

They lapsed into silence, eating quietly. James stared off into space. Then he realized that he wasn’t actually staring into space--he was watching Lily. He shook his head slightly, turning his attention back to breakfast. It wasn’t really important, he decided. She’d done him a favour. He’d find a way to thank her for it sometime, and that was that. He pushed his plate away and stood. “See you later.”

“If you’re not washed away,” Remus said, gesturing upwards. “It’s pouring.”

James glared up at the ceiling; sure enough, storm clouds loomed, no doubt echoing the sky outside. “Thanks so much for pointing that out; I never would have noticed on my own.”

Remus waved a piece of toast at him. “Just doing my part to help the team. Kit would be furious if one of his Chasers drowned.”

“I’m overwhelmed by your concern for my well-being,” James said sarcastically.

“Get along with you, James. I have an essay to write.”

Quidditch practice was very long and very wet. Kit went over possible strategies until James’ head spun. The Ravenclaw team was extremely good this year, and Gryffindor needed to be prepared for every possible tactic. It was Kit’s third and final year as Quidditch captain; he’d won the cup for the past two years, and hoped to make his record three for three before leaving Hogwarts. Which was fine by James, who’d been playing Quidditch for as long as he’d been riding a broomstick, and who’d ridden a broomstick as long as he’d known how to say the word “Up!”

Still, no matter how enthused one was about Quidditch, it was hard to enjoy scoring goals while being half-drenched and buffeted by winds on all sides. It was with a sense of immense relief that James stumbled back into his dorm room late in the afternoon. After changing into drier clothes and confirming that no one was around to provide a distraction, he decided resignedly that he might as well be productive and head to the library. He’d missed lunch, and it was only an hour or two before dinner; hopefully revising would divert his mind from his empty stomach.

To his astonishment, Remus was sitting at one of the tables in the library, pouring over a large book. Beside him was a long piece of parchment, a good four feet of which was filled with small, loopy handwriting. “You haven’t been here all day,” James said, disbelieving.

Remus looked up and grinned. “Not all of it, but most. How was practice?”

“Wet. How’s the essay?”

“Breezing; I found the perfect resource.” Remus showed James the cover of the tome, which read Bane of the MacBoons: The Hairy History of the Quintaped. “Only copy in the library. Anything you could possibly want to know about the beasts is in here.”

“Excellent. How long’s the essay supposed to be again?”

“Five feet. Go on and take this, I only have a bit left.” Remus shut the book and passed it over as James joined him at the table.

Bane of the MacBoons proved sufficiently interesting to distract James, and it certainly made the Quintaped essay a breeze to write. By the time his stomach had given up gentle suggestion and started demanding dinner outright, James was two feet into his own essay and feeling quite cheerful. He and Remus exited the library arguing over whether it was possible to capture a Quintaped, and what one would look like if it were transformed back into a human.

But metaphysical speculation takes a poor second place to fried chicken when you’re sixteen, and the discussion was forgotten as soon as they entered the Great Hall. Sirius and Peter were already seated at the Gryffindor table, talking animatedly. “What’s happening, lads?” James asked as he flung himself onto the bench beside them and attacked a plate of drumsticks. He glanced casually at the other end of the table; Lily was sitting where she’d been that morning. She was talking to a third-year James didn’t recognize, and looked amused.

“Peter and I,” Sirius announced solemnly, “have had a brilliant idea.”

“Oh Merlin, not another one,” Remus groaned, reaching for the potatoes.

“No, listen, this is good,” Peter said excitedly. “We’re going to hold a poker tournament. A massive one, in the Gryffindor common room, on Hallowe’en. We want everyone involved.”

“Count me out,” James said around a mouth full of chicken.

Peter looked surprised. “Why?”

“Because you, my dear Doctor Wormtail, can count cards, while Sirius can outwit even the most sneaky anti-cheating spell. I’ve played poker with you before, remember? I like my money where it is, thanks all the same.”

“Ah, but that’s one of the good bits,” Sirius smirked. “We won’t be playing for money.”

“What then?”

Peter held up a hand and started counting down fingers. “Dragon Snaps, Licorice Wands, Fudge Flies, Choc-O-Balls…”

Remus eyed at the pair of them shrewdly. “In short, your brilliant plan is to use a poker tournament to steal everyone’s Hallowe’en sweets.”

“That’s it,” Sirius confirmed. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s sneaky, unscrupulous, and devilish, and the whole of Gryffindor House will be out for your blood if they realize your true motives.” Remus grinned broadly. “Sounds fun. After the Hallowe’en Feast, then?”

Peter nodded. “We’ve got it all worked out. There’ll be an entrance fee of one bag of sweets. All those will be pooled together for the winner, which is bound to be me or Sirius, and we’ve already agreed to split the winnings in the end.” He looked at James earnestly. “You’re not really going to sit this one out, are you James? Just think of it!”

“Think of what, the stomachache you’ll have after a Hallowe’en feast followed by enough sweets to choke a hippogriff?” James said wryly.

“Don’t be a prat, Prongs, you know it’ll be brilliant.” Sirius grinned. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it first.”

James grinned back. “Maybe. All right, all right, I’m in. But you’d better save me some Peppermint Toads when you win.”

“We’ve got to be sure to get Bastian to play,” Sirius mused. “His family sends him Muggle sweets for Hallowe’en, and I’ve always wanted to try a Mars Bar.”

Peter nodded vigorously. “Jolie Barnes too, her family always sends her stuff. And Rhys, and--“

James was more interested in his dinner than in this discussion of sneaky schemes to steal sweets. He ate contentedly, letting his attention wander back to the other end of the Gryffindor table, where Lily was still talking animatedly with the unidentified third-year. Lily leaned forward and said something, then she and the other girl both burst out laughing. James wondered what was so funny.

“Blink, mate. Your eyes are about to pop out of your head.”

James jumped and looked at Remus. “What?”

Remus raised an eyebrow, smiling. “You’re staring.”

James bristled. “No, I wasn’t.”

“What’s this?" Peter asked at once, abandoning talk of upcoming poker tournament.

“James is sussing out Lily Evans,” Remus said. “Witness the glassy-eyed gaze.”

“I am not,” James protested automatically, glancing around and praying that no one else at the table had heard.

“You are, you’ve been gaping at her ever since we sat down. You were watching her this morning, too.”

“Evans?” Sirius looked down the table. “I picked up a friend of hers once.”

Peter snorted. “Sirius, you’ve picked up everyone’s friend once. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that you picked up McGonagall once.”

“’Course I did. She wears a picture of me in a locket around her neck, didn’t you know? Kisses it every night before she goes to sleep.”

“That explains why she always looks so sour, then. Even looking at a picture of you is enough to give someone warts.”

“This has to be a first for James, though,” Sirius mused, deflecting the teasing away from himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him suss out someone who didn’t play Quidditch.”

“Don’t encourage him, Sirius,” Remus said lazily. “We have enough trouble competing with you. If James expands his circle outside of the Quidditch scene, there won’t be any girls left for the rest of us. He’s already got a bloody fan club, even if he never notices them.”

“I notice them,” James retorted, indignant. “They just aren’t interesting. They aren’t really interested, either. If I weren’t on the team none of them would look twice at me.”

“But meantime they are looking,” Sirius pointed out. “I can’t imagine why you don’t take advantage of it; certainly they wouldn’t complain. If I had half the girls that chase after you--“

“Then you’d spend all your time chasing after the other half,” Peter grinned.

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “My point is that you can have pretty much any girl you want, James. Beats me why you’ve only ever gone for Quidditch players.”

Defensive, James said, “Every bloke wants a girl who shares his interests. And I like Quidditch.”

Remus motioned his head towards the far end of the table. “Then why are you still sussing out Lily? She’s not your type at all.”

“I have a type?” James asked absently. He hadn’t even noticed that he was staring at Lily again.

“Petite. Athletic. Dark-haired.” Peter counted off attributes on his fingers.

“You’ve just described Gwendolyn Delacroix, and I’ve been going out of my way all year to avoid her.”

Sirius shrugged. “A minor technicality.”

James glared at his friends, irritated. “Is there a reason why you’ve all suddenly decided to dissect my love life, or is it just for the hell of it?”

“For the hell of it,” Peter said immediately.

“Though it helps that you’re making an easy target of yourself,” Remus added, smiling.

James ignored this, turning his attention back to dinner and only half-listening as the conversation turned from him to Gwen, and from Gwen to girls in general. He poked at his food. Gradually his eyes drifted up from his plate and back down the table to Lily. He gave up the pretense of being disinterested and considered her carefully. Lily’s face was etched with lines of intelligence and humour. Her hair was dark red and fell past her shoulders; every few minutes she reached up an absent hand to brush it out of her face. Her eyes were her best feature, no question; their brilliance was startling. She was smiling about something.

There was no denying that she was pretty. Still, next to a stunner like Gwendolyn Delacroix or Demeter Demaris, Lily was barely noticeable.

Except...now that he had noticed her, he just seemed to keep on noticing her. Odd, that.

“He’s at it again. Should we warn Gwen she’s got competition?”

James glowered at Sirius, who was smirking. “So I’m looking at Lily Evans; there’s no need to bang on about it. You look at girls all the time.”

“Ah, but I’m a connoisseur,” Sirius said sagely.

“That’s a polite term for what you are,” Peter grinned.

“Don’t you lot have better things to do?” James pointed out, exasperated. “Are you and Sirius already finished planning the sweet-stealing coup of the century, Peter? And Remus, you need to be revising your levitation charms. I didn’t root through Snape’s things last night for the fun of it, you know. We have a prank to pull.”

“True, true,” Sirius grinned. “Come on, mates. We have better things to do than watch James watch Lily. Let’s go have a poker game of our own. We’ll need the practice if you want to win on Hallowe’en, and Remus still owes me ten Galleons from last time.”

“What a shame I’m too busy to give you the chance to win more,” Remus said without turning a hair, as they all stood to leave the Great Hall. “I really must rehearse my hovering charms, after all.”

“Coward.”

“Cheater.”

“I didn’t cheat; I swear those four aces found their way to my hand completely on their own.”

“Of course they did. And I’m a hinkypunk.”

“Lay off, men,” James interjected. “Peter, want me to spread the word about this poker tournament?”

Peter waved a hand. “Don’t bother, you’d just get the details mixed up. I’ll make posters for the common room.”

“I’ll help you, then,” Sirius offered.

“No, you won’t,” Peter said calmly.

Sirius looked injured. “Why not?”

“Because no one can read your handwriting.”

Sirius looked peeved. “Remus won’t play poker with me, Peter won’t let me help make posters, and James is busy staring at some girl. What am I supposed to do with myself for the rest of the night?”

James decided that the next person to make fun of the way he’d been watching Lily was going to find himself on the wrong side of a nasty curse. “You could take a bath. They can probably smell you down in the dungeons.”

“Careful, Prongs. I know where you sleep.”

“Yes, but I know who hid those spiders in Peter’s bedsheets last week.”

Peter’s eyes suddenly narrowed, and he looked at Sirius with angry suspicion. “What’s this? That was you?”

“James--" Sirius growled, but before he could continue Peter had pulled out a wand. Sirius apparently decided survival was the better part of valor and booked it as Peter fired hex after hex at his unprotected back.

Remus watched them run down the hallway, openly amused. “I thought you put those spiders in Peter’s bed,” he said to James.

James put on an innocent expression. “I never said Sirius had done it, I only said I knew who had. It is my fault how Peter interpreted it?”

Remus laughed and clapped James on the back. “Come on, let’s get after them. After we stop Peter from killing Sirius and Sirius from killing you, you can help me practice for Hallowe’en.”

“What am I supposed to help you practice, levitation or poker?”

“Perhaps we could come up with a way to do both at once?”

James grinned and followed Remus down the hallway towards Gryffindor tower, already anticipating the chaos that would meet him at the other end.

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