Rising from Embers

RISING FROM EMBERS
by shiiki

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CHAPTER SIX

Different Faces of Courage

November, 1976

November was a chilly month. Though there hadn’t been any further snowfall since the freak blizzard the previous month, the cold stayed in the air and kept most of the school within the castle, huddled before blazing fires in their respective common rooms.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team, however, wasn’t put off by a little cold weather. Training was training. And with a big match looming at the end of the week, the chill wasn’t about to interfere with a last session.

It was all going well, thought James. He and the other Chasers were working as a flawless team; the Beaters were doing a great job with the Bludgers, their Keeper had barely let in a single Quaffle during the practice, and their Seeker was performing well. He called an end to training at seven, confident in their ability to play a good game at Saturday’s match.

They’d be going against Slytherin, he mused. Always the most key-ed up event of the season. Especially now.

There’d been another concerted attack by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. In London. A powerful Reductor Curse set off in midday, decimating an entire street in Muggle London. And more importantly to the wizarding community, the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Thankfully, the lower layers of the Ministry had stood firm against the assault, and security was now being stepped up. But the number of casualties couldn’t be denied.

James didn’t know how many students had lost loved ones in the incident. His own father was in St Mungo’s, lucky to be alive.

Hogwarts was afraid. It was palpable, the undercurrent of fear and suspicion that ran through the school; even among the students, there was an unhealthy amount of distrust, especially between houses.

And right in the middle, trying to hold everybody together, was Lily.

James’s lips twitched upwards as they always did at the thought of Lily.

She was wonderful – fair and kind and earnest and vivacious. Lily, who believed in trust and compassion and showed it. When everything else was bleak like the world outside, she was his star, his inspiration.

For her, he could tackle his Head Boy duties and try to earn a respect which he didn’t think he deserved.

She was warming to him, he knew. It was gratifying to see her a little less stressed, a little less busy as he learned to do more and more of his share of the work. Although the paperwork was very boring. And he was never very sure of himself when he did the normal prefect stuff – heaven knew he flouted rules left and right, who was he to punish others for doing the same?

But he was trying.

For her, he could.

~ * ~

The sun chose to shine brightly, after hiding its face behind mounds of dull-looking clouds the past month, on the day of the first Hogwarts Quidditch match of the season – the Gryffindor/Slytherin game. The popularity of Quidditch was so great that had it been freezing, the school would have turned up to watch anyway. As it was, the students flocked out to the Quidditch stands, grateful for the wintry sunshine offering its little bit of warmth.

The conditions out on the pitch were perfect, aside from the brightness of the sun, which might present a slight difficulty to their Seeker. There wasn’t much breeze; no worries about being blown off course or having to factor in vectors when aiming for the goals.

James went back to the changing room, his stomach starting to feel unsettled as the first signs of nervousness kicked in. His team, all ready in their scarlet Quidditch robes, waiting expectantly for him. They were all showing their pre-match jitters: Sirius pacing the length of the room with Carl Pritchard as though they were going to wear a path in the ground; his fellow Chasers, Charlotte Churchill and Atticus Spinnet – twisting her braid around her finger and biting his nails respectively. Max Carson, their Keeper, looked perfectly calm, but James knew him well enough to see through his unruffled front. Flora Somerled, the new second-year Seeker, was actually shivering. James pulled himself together, gave her an encouraging smile, and launched into his pre-match speech.

He was pleased to note that despite all signs of nerves in the changing room, his team followed him out onto the pitch holding themselves upright and with confidence. The Slytherin team, captained by their Beater Theseus Baddock, leered at them. James met Baddock’s gaze steadily.

‘A nice fair game, now,’ said Madam Hooch warningly. ‘Shake hands.’

They did so.

‘Mount your brooms, now.’ And with the whistle, they took off, fifteen brooms shooting into the air.

James took immediate possession of the Quaffle, and flew off haphazardly. It was his opening move; start and fly as erratically as possible to ward off attacks. He was particularly good at it, having been a Seeker in his second-year. It wasn’t long before he had put a goal past the Slytherin Keeper, the first of the match.

‘Ten-nil to Gryffindor!’ announced the commentator. The gold and scarlet wave of students cheered.

‘Nice one!’ Atticus gave him a hi-five as he flew by.

‘Thanks. Keep on with it!’

Slytherin was infuriated that they had got such an early start. Baddock yelled instructions to his fellow Beater to mark James – not a problem with him; he’d anticipated this. He avoided the Bludgers they pelted at him easily, while Charlotte and Atticus took advantage of the lack of attention …

‘Twenty-nil to Gryffindor!’

‘Yes!’ Charlotte punched the air, grinning widely. The next moment a Bludger skimmed past the top of her head. Sirius sent it back at Baddock furiously.

Slytherin had the Quaffle now; they were flying towards the Gryffindor goalposts. Max watched them with a look of fierce determination. The Quaffle flew at the right-hand goal; Max shot at it, taking both hands off his broom …

‘And an excellent save by the Gryffindor Keeper!’

Max grinned as he tossed the Quaffle to James, who began his haphazard flight to the Slytherin goalposts. Swoop; dodge a Slytherin Chaser; pass to Atticus; catch from Charlotte; swerve past a Bludger; he was there, and it was no problem to curve the Quaffle round the Slytherin Keeper.

‘Thirty-nil!’

The rising score wasn’t improving Slytherins’ mood. James knew what was coming – when Slytherin got angry enough, they generally resorted to cheating.

Charlotte was the first to get it; Baddock elbowed her hard in the ribs, causing her to spin off course. Penalty to Gryffindor. James put it away easily. Forty-nil.

The game continued. Slytherin scored, making it forty-ten. Atticus scored his first goal; fifty-ten. The Snitch was spotted, and Flora dove, along with the Slytherin Seeker. James, though he would have loved to watch the chase, made himself focus on the Quaffle. He’d long since learnt it was the best opportunity to score, when everyone else was watching the breath-taking dive for the Snitch. Sure enough, he made it sixty-ten. The Slytherin Keeper was gawking at the Seekers and turned too late.

‘Are you daft?’ Baddock yelled. ‘Keep your eyes on the Quaffle!’ His Keeper reddened.

The Snitch had disappeared; Madam Hooch was signalling a penalty to Gryffindor, as the Slytherin Seeker had apparently fouled Flora. Atticus flew up to take it. Seventy-ten.

The Slytherin team were getting rougher now. Baddock and the other Slytherin Beater were batting at Bludgers with all their might. But Sirius and Carl were well up to countering them. Before long, the score was a hundred to ten, and from the look on the Slytherin team’s face, they weren’t at all pleased.

‘Seven more goals and it’s pure defence,’ James told his team encouragingly.

Max was playing at his best; his keen anticipation of the Slytherin Chasers’ intentions saved them three more goals. Unfortunately the Slytherin Keeper was working harder too. Atticus tried and failed; Charlotte missed; James knew he would have to resort to diversionary tactics when his turn came. Hovering high above the hoop, he took careful aim … the Keeper flew up to defend … quick as a flash, he dove and looped below the Keeper, tossing the Quaffle through. The Gryffindor crowd screamed their approval.

The Seekers were at it again. Flora was well in the lead, with the Slytherin Seeker desperately tailing behind. Sirius blocked a Bludger coming towards her, she stretched out her hand, and … wham!

Flora spun off-course, looking slightly disoriented after crashing into one of the Slytherin Chasers.

‘Foul!’ cried the Gryffindor supporters in the stand, not needing Madam Hooch’s indignant whistle. Charlotte took the penalty. The Quaffle blew past the Keeper’s fingertips. A hundred and twenty to ten.

And the third sighting of the Snitch! Flora, despite the hard knock she’d taken, was nose to nose with the Slytherin Seeker, diving for the shiny, fluttering ball on the grass near the middle of the pitch.

Baddock and the other Slytherin Beater were racing towards her, clubs raised. They were going to take her out, James realised. Without a second thought, he sped towards them, ready to block their blows. He swerved between their brooms, not making any contact, but causing enough disturbance to annoy them. Enraged, the clubs came down violently on his head.

He heard the crowd gasp, dimly noted Flora holding up her closed fist, before the world around him started to fade.

~ * ~

It happened way too fast – one moment she was watching the two Seekers racing for the Snitch, the Slytherin Beaters chasing after them, and then James zipping through their midst.

The thud the Beaters’ clubs made as they connected with James’s skull was so loud, she could here the dull sound reverberate around the stadium. There was a shocked gasp; Dorcas Meadowes was on her feet, her fist in the air, shouting at the top of her voice; Remus’s face was deathly pale; Sirius was speeding towards his best friend.

Lily watched, frozen to her seat, as Sirius caught James as he slipped, unconscious, off his broom, and struggled to hold him up. He was joined by Madam Hooch and the other Gryffindor team members. Slowly, they flew him down to the pitch, on to which the teachers were already rushing. In the middle stood the Seekers, Flora Somerled holding up the Snitch, first in triumph, then in horror as she saw James.

The next thing Lily knew, she was sprinting through the crowd with Remus and Peter, with only one thought in their heads: James.

It was utter pandemonium on the ground. Madam Hooch, having helped deliver James safely to medical help, was yelling at the Slytherin Beaters, backed up by Professor McGonagall. Madam Pomfrey arrived on the scene, and ordered the crowd to back off. The rest of the Gryffindor team huddled anxiously around, except for Sirius, who despite Madam Pomfrey’s orders, refused to leave James.

‘He needs medical attention!’ cried Madam Pomfrey. ‘Make room now! Get out of the way, Black!’

‘I’m staying with him,’ insisted Sirius. ‘James, come on, mate, get up!’

Someone conjured up a stretcher, and James was levitated up on it. Lily and Remus rushed forward, next to Sirius, to Madam Pomfrey’s exasperation.

‘Will no one listen to me?’ fumed Madam Pomfrey. ‘Back off, he needs to go to the hospital wing now!’ And she bore the unconscious James away on the stretcher.

Half an hour later, Madam Pomfrey finally let them into the Infirmary grudgingly. Lily stood by the door, not quite sure why she was this concerned, as the Gryffindor team and the Marauders – James and Sirius’s little gang – gathered by his bedside.

‘We steamrollered them,’ said an exuberant Max. ‘Two hundred and eighty to ten. That’s one match they’re going to be talking about for ages!’

‘How’s your head now, James?’ asked Charlotte. ‘I can’t believe they’d do that. Those slimy bastards.’

‘Language, Char,’ snickered Atticus. Charlotte blushed.

James grinned weakly at them. Lily wondered if anyone else could see him wince slightly. James probably would never admit to being in pain. ‘I’m fine, really,’ he claimed.

‘Yeah, didn’t hurt anything he uses,’ joked Sirius. James cuffed him playfully on the sleeve.

Flora Somerled moved forward and pressed the Snitch into James’s hand.

‘Thanks,’ she said with emphasis. Lily realised with a jerk that the target hadn’t been James at all; he’d only kept them off the slight, more fragile girl. She shuddered to think of the damage two thick clubs might have done little Flora.

What a risk James had taken, though. If they had cracked his head open …

That was courage, wasn’t it? He must have known the consequences … and he’d flown right in to stop Baddock and the other Beater from attacking Flora.

And she was vividly reminded of a younger boy charging into a compartment full of older students, in righteous indignation over an insult dealt by those bigoted students to a fellow schoolmate.

She blinked, shaking herself out of the reverie, and met a pair of hazel eyes searching across the room. James’s gaze locked on hers, and his face broke into a wide grin.

An inexplicable feeling of warmth diffused through her, along with a small flutter in her abdomen. Although she couldn’t quite understand why, Lily couldn’t help smiling back at James.