The morning of the match, the sky dawned with pale pinks and yellows, covering the grounds in light. The Great Hall was filled with a warm tint and lots of sunbeams; everyone was in a good mood that day.
They were all looking forward to the match, and the students were already attired in their red and gold or blue and bronze trappings.
When they trooped outside onto the field, the excited chatter woke up every single bird that was roosting near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and they started to chirp and squawk loudly, complementing the Hogwarts students nicely.
Lily found a seat in between Lora and Sirius; they were fairly high up, and Lily was in a position to pickpocket Sirius’ binoculars. Lora was threatening to knock her off of her feet; she was bouncing up and down so actively and swinging her arms with an utter disregard for other people’s body parts, and Sirius was tapping his foot and humming to something from the Wizarding Wireless Network. It was only when Madam Hooch, the referee, and the teams met on the field, that her seatmates stopped the incessant moving around.
They had some new team members that Lily hadn’t kept up with; though James, Rebecca Oxley, and Nigel Patil were still on the team, along with Miranda and Anya MacGregor and John.
A Ravenclaw fifth year was doing the commentating; it was her second time doing it, and she was no less eager for the match than Lora was; actually, she was probably more so; she had had lots of syrup poured over her pancakes at breakfast, and she was, to say the least, extremely biased when it came to Quidditch matches. She pulled the magical microphone close to her mouth and cleared her throat.
“And captains Patil and Howard shake hands-whistle blows, aaaand-they’re off! Quaffle goes to James Potter of Gryffindor-he’s flying up the field-ugh, intercepted by Lorenor from the Ravenclaw end-Quaffle goes to Lorenor-I hate hard names-Lorenor-Flack-aaand-back to Lorenor-no, Shaw intercepts it. Miranda Shaw from Gryffindor flying up the field-very nice dodge around that Bludger there-careful, that’s a Beater in front of you-take her teeth out, Pete; it’s only a minor penalty-and the Quaffle goes to Potter-Oxley-Potter-Shaw-aaand-Shaw scores! Ten to zero for Gryffindor!”
Miranda, grinning widely, was making several bows at the stadium from her broom before the game started again.
“The Quaffle goes to Flack-no, Potter. James Potter of Gryffindor flying up the field-does several nice loop-dee-loops around Lorenor and that Bludger-come on, this is not a carousel! Quaffle to Shaw-Oxley-Shaw-Oxley-Shaw-make up your mind already! Okay; Shaw streaking up towards wrong goalposts…she aims-and she throws to Potter, who doesn’t go to his own goalposts like a sensible person; he aims, aaaand-he scores! Never mind; those were the right goalposts-my mistake, Professor, my mistake.”
Professor McGonagall, as usual, was superintending the commentator. Lily was surprised that a teacher hadn’t taken over that post, but then again, it was more fun this way.
The match went on in that vein for a while; thirty minutes later, Anya was no nearer to spotting the Snitch, and the score was eighty to sixty for Gryffindor.
“Chaser Slycke of Ravenclaw in possession of the Quaffle; heading for the goals-he throws to Lorenor-back to Slycke-and to Flack-Flack scores!-no, no, he doesn’t-Patil intercepted that one. All right; Patil wheezing like a plucked chicken-serves you right for catching it with your stomach-Quaffle to Potter-Oxley-Potter-who does a funny ballet twirl in order to avoid being hit by a Bludger-can’t he just let it hit him?--Potter scores!-and he got hit in the back with a very well-aimed Bludger-it was, Professor! Eurgh, that must have hurt-anyway, he’s not too badly hurt. Shame. And the match goes on…it goes on into the sunset…actually, the noon scorcher-“
“Would you tell us a bit about the match, Ludren?”
“Oh, right, right-sure, Professor. Score is ninety to sixty for Gryffindor…”
As the sun rose higher into the sky, the game went on. Soon the score was one hundred eighty to two hundred for Gryffindor, and the game started to speed up.
“Gryffindor Beater Winters just hit a nasty one at Slycke-hit him in the arm-isn’t that a foul? Can we call a time-out and make it one? Eh, well…Potter heading up the field there…dodging another Bludger-OUCH-that must have hurt; hit in the back of the head by the other one-hope it smashed his skull-but he’s still on the broom, still hurtling towards the goals-and he scores,” the announcer stated in a rather dead voice. “Two hundred and ten to one hundred and eighty for Gryffindor. Potter’s got a knack for attracting Bludgers. Does anyone know if there are bits of metal in those things? Because if so, I think someone attached a magnet to Potter; not that I’m complaining, but-“
“LUDREN!”
“Well, if it’s true, then-oh, fine. Chaser MacGregor for Gryffindor heading up the field towards the Slytherin goalposts-why she’s doing that, I can’t imagine-the Quaffle isn’t there-oh, hang on a minute!”
The magical microphone went silent for a minute as Ludren puzzled over the tactics of the Chaser that wasn’t really a Chaser.
“Wait-change of plans! Seeker MacGregor going into a dive there-come on, Conven, follow her! Get her; knock her off her broom-ah, too late.”
Every single Gryffindor leapt to his or her feet, applauding madly, screaming and shouting and hugging each other as Anya sank to the ground, engulfed by her teammates, and holding aloft the ting fluttering gilded walnut in her left fist.
“Gryffindor wins. Three hundred and sixty to one hundred and eighty. Whee.” The commentator’s voice was two-dimensional by now, but it could hardly be heard over the ecstatic cries of the Gryffindors, who were piling onto the field and overwhelming the team with strangling hugs. It paid to be a Quidditch player, James thought, though it wasn’t the most desirable thing to be constantly hit with Bludgers.
That evening, everyone was contentedly stuffing themselves with éclairs, pumpkin juice, custards, and pastries in the common room, which was littered with plates, glasses, napkins, and food platters. Sirius and Remus had ripped a large Gryffindor banner into strips, and they had hung them as streamers from the ceiling. Two others were intact, and they were waving above the stairs going to each side of the dormitories.
Lily fought her way over to James. “You did wonderfully.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
Setting her glass of pumpkin juice down on the table, she let herself plop down onto a free stool, of which there weren’t many. “Did the Bludgers hurt badly?”
”Nah.” He waved his hand as if to signify that it was nothing, but her sharp eyes saw him wince slightly. “I don’t get hurt!”
Lily didn’t bother to try and countermand that statement; both of them knew what she could say. He was secretly thankful that she didn’t.
“So, you staying here over Easter?”
“I think so,” Lily smiled. “I couldn’t return to my father-and I don’t much want to miss out on the opportunity of studying in the library.”
He let out a great hoot. “You wouldn’t want to miss out on the opportunity?”
She blushed. “It is!”
Just then, Serena came over, one hand holding a napkin with several pastries on it. “James-I think I got the last ones.” She let herself drop gracefully onto the floor next to him.
Sirius grinned. “Up for another raid, Prongs?
He hesitated; looked up at Serena. “I think-no, I guess I’ll stay here.”
His friend raised his eyebrows. “Sorry! I’ll just evaporate, shall I?”
”Padfoot, don’t take it that way! I’d just rather not-I’ll explain later.”
Lily felt an odd little jerk somewhere in the area of her left lung, and she frowned. “Sirius, I’ll help carry.”
They exited the common room without attracting too much attention, which was a good thing. It wouldn’t have been pleasant if the entire Gryffindor House found out how to get into the kitchens-invariably, someone would notice, and the entrance would be changed or moved altogether, besides losing quite a few House points.
They were halfway to the kitchen before either of them spoke.
“Lily, you’re oddly quiet. You weren’t in the common room; you were actually rather talkative. What’s wrong?”
She laughed. “Nothing.”
He wasn’t fooled. “Is it because of Serena?”
“Oh,--you!” Lily hit him lightly on the arm. “I hate clairvoyant people. Yes, it is. Satisfied?”
“For the present. Come on, perk up. The house-elves don’t like to see unhappy students. Take it from me; they’ll attack you with the evilest mixture of what they call medicine they can brew up.” He made a face.
“Really?” She laughed. “Judging by the food they turn out at dinner and feasts, I’d expect something else!”
“Never judge medicine by its maker,” Sirius stated darkly.
They returned to the common room minutes later, with their arms piled full of food and each arm hung with pitchers of pumpkin juice. Immediately, they were relieved of everything by the Gryffindors, and they were able to find a seat as the students swarmed around the food.
Just as Lily sank into an armchair and curled up, a tapping at the window made her look up sharply. One of the school barn owls was pecking at it. Sighing, she made her way over to the window, flung it open, and frowned in surprise as it dropped a letter into her hands. Then, without waiting for a response, it took off again, in the direction of the Owlery.
Lily unfolded the envelope and the note inside. Sitting down on the window ledge, she read:
Lily,
I want to talk to you and tell you something. I haven’t spoken to you since Christmas, and I’d like to now. Can I see you outside? The lake, maybe, or-yes, I think the lake’s fine. Could you come down as soon as you get this?
--Severus
Lily sighed; she stared out the window at the dusky sky for a minute before thinking. When she did think, it was only to move to the window to see if she could see anyone. She couldn’t, but that was to be expected, as Gryffindor Tower wasn’t exactly on the same height as the front steps. Flitting up to her dormitory, she took her cloak out of her trunk, closed it with a faint click, and left the Tower through the house-elf doors.
It only took a few seconds for her to leave the castle and its many winding corridors and trick steps, one of which she hardly avoided. The sun had just vanished behind the Forbidden Forest as she walked out on the lawns; as she moved towards the glitter on the water.
A hand on her shoulder made her start and quickly turn around, but she breathed again when she found it was only Severus.
“You scared me.”
He smiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
She nodded in acknowledgement, and both of them walked closer to the lake. There was silence for a few moments until Lily cleared her throat.
“So…you wanted to tell me something…so-shoot.”
He smiled. “Shoot at what? At the mysterious figure behind us in Hogwarts robes or at the giant squid or-well, you take your pick.”
Lily groaned. Turning around, she caught sight of a shadow vanishing noisily into a bush. “Prongs! Padfoot! Out!”
A rather sheepish pair of boys crawled out of the bush. “We were just spying!”
She nodded, arms crossed. “I can tell.”
There was silence except for Lily’s folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.
Suddenly a false gleam of understanding broke out over James’ face. “You mean you want us to leave?”
Lily closed her eyes. “Where is the nearest piece of castle wall I can bang my head against?”
Severus grinned. “Why not his head?”
Sirius grinned half-heartily. “We’ll just go then, shall we?”
Lily turned her back to them as an answer. “Lovely tonight, isn’t it?”
James sighed. “That was a hint. Eh, well. C’mon, Padfoot…”
He and Sirius faded noisily into the castle, and Lily’s sharpened hearing could catch snatches of what they were saying.
“Why didn’t we bring the cloak? We could have used it!”
“Because it’s buried under my bed and I don’t want to go looking for it!”
“But…”
Here the conversation flickered out, and Lily turned to Severus again. “We have gotten rid of the idiots. Talk to me.”
He laughed. “You’re good at getting rid of people.”
“Are you hinting something? Don’t answer that,” she amended. “But go ahead.”
”Sure.” He sighed, then started walking around the lake, kicking at some fairy dust here and there. One or two fairy clumps still lived at Hogwarts, though they had almost all left the grounds since students had formed the practice of packing them in snowballs during the wintertime and throwing them at the Whomping Willow. They liked to come out at twilight, scrubbing the dust off of their wings, which had been termed ‘fairy dust’. It itched terribly, and, in contrast to Muggle perception, it didn’t make things or people fly.
“You remember Christmas-and what happened that night?”
She was running a bit to keep up with him, and he finally noticed that, slowing down. “Sorry.”
“Don’t mention it. Of course I remember.”
”Er-well, yes. I wanted to-I-er-“
“She is waiting impatiently for his answer. He hesitates to give it to her; anxiously, she bends forward. Will he ever tell her? Wait for the next episode, my friends; it’s airing next week at eight Monday night! And now we are greeted with the ever-popular-“
“Okay, okay, I’ll talk!”
“Phew. I thought for a minute you’d forgotten.”
Severus half-lifted a corner of his mouth as he reached down for a smooth stone. Reaching back, he threw it over the lake, where it skipped six times before finally sinking.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry for following you…and Potter. I guess I thought something was up…and I got sort of jealous…I never dreamed that Lupin was a-a-a werewolf. I just thought you were getting into something-and I told you how it was,” he pleaded, hands in a beseeching, helpless gesture; flung out in front of him.
“Black asked me what had been pushed through my head this time at dinner one night. I lost it…I point-blank pulled out my wand and told him to tell me where Potter went every month-I didn’t mention you. He told me…and told me how to get there.
“I never meant for you to get so close to being bitten by Lupin; I was being stupid. I don’t know why I didn’t run. And then you left…and Potter-“
“He saved your life,” Lily said curtly.
“Please don’t say that,” he winced. “I don’t want to be under an obligation to him.”
She took his arm. “It doesn’t matter what you want…when it comes to life…and the saving of it. It matters what happened…what people did…and what he did was something no one else there would have. He-he’s noble like that…and if you were, you’d want to repay him…You’ll get the chance someday--but I think, that when it comes to that…that it won’t be him that you’ll be saving, but someone dearer to him than he is to himself…he’s got a knack to get himself out of trouble, you know.”
“I know,” Severus frowned grimly. “I hate this. I won’t feel…I won’t feel right until I do something that gets me out of this…but the last thing I want to do is something for him.” He looked down into her dreamy face. “What you just said is going to be ringing in my head for the rest of my life; you know that, don’t you?”
Lily smiled. “You’ll eventually get tired of the everlasting bell.”
He sighed. “I suppose…but, well, what I wanted to say was that I’m sorry for following you…for being such a pillock…for everything, I guess.”
Steering him around an almost invisible inlet of the lake, Lily walked partly into the water; it was only up to the soles of her shoes, and she was still dry, but her eyes were fastened on the dusky glimmer and the candlelight sparkle of the ripples on the lake.
“Look…look out there. It’s huge…it could swallow you whole, if it wanted to…so much force, bonded together, and living…surviving…it could kill you, yet you trust it…hitherto it’s been almost harmless…but who knows what could happen before the next sunset…”
Her voice diminished as she stared away from him, away from everything but the looming, grey-blue expanse of water, but her mind was on Tom…not on the lake.
Their N.E.W.T.s were coming up quickly; there only remained one Quidditch game, Gryffindor against Slytherin, before the sixth years would have to face the reality of the tests. Most of them had already started to study, naturally, Lily was among them. Everywhere she went, be it lunch, her bed before going to sleep, The Three Broomsticks, or an armchair in the common room, she had an opened, heavy book in front of her or on her lap. They all had impossibly illegible titles because of their age, gold corners at the edges, and some of them she pulled out her wand and muttered something over before opening them—those were trademarks of the books in the Restricted Section of the library; Dumbledore had given her a pass for them.
James and Sirius had been caught sneaking into the Forbidden Forest looking for an ingredient to a potion by the keeper of grounds; the recipe for which they had stolen from one of Lily’s books from the Restricted Section. Every evening, before they went to mop floors, polish door-handles, disembowel creatures for Professor Maar or Professor Cauldwell, or something of that sort, they could be heard moping and complaining all the way to their detention and quite some time beforehand. James’ complaint that he’d miss Quidditch practice didn’t shake Professor McGonagall’s sentence.
Study of Ancient Runes was getting harder, too. They were learning J.R.R. Tolkien’s Quenyi, his language for the High-Elves, which was based on a cult of small elvish creatures that lived somewhere in the Mediterranean. The Tolkien language was easier than the elvish one, but the structure and some of the words were similar, so by exam time, they were expected to know not only how to translate and write a few sentences in Quenyi, but to translate some of the elf-cult’s common phrases.
They were doing human Transfiguration in Professor McGonagall’s class, and more and more students were walking out of her classroom with cushions instead of legs or large, fluffy tails. It was much harder than most of them believed it was, and as Professor McGonagall had warned them that they would be changing themselves into an armchair for part of their exam, the common rooms were soon filled with muttered or shouted incantations, half-and-half armchairs and other things of that sort, and frustrated Finite Incantatems.
Lily didn’t visit Tom any more that year. She had no wish to get in the middle of another fight between him and Litharelen, and Tom was busy now. More and more of the Slytherins were talking in hushed voices about their father’s new friend, or their new master, and she had seen one of the seventh years, one that had failed sixth year, pull up his left sleeve and show his peering friends the skull with the snake coming out of its mouth branded into his arm.
Rumors everywhere were slowly frightening people all over England. Tom had been gaining power since Lily had been in her fourth year, and he was planning to move to their country. It was terrifying to most people; the others didn’t care or were on Tom’s side.
But they didn’t know why they were afraid, and they weren’t nearly afraid enough. If Lily had reason to be and was afraid of pain and death, she would have been; she knew Tom better than anyone, except Litharelen, and she knew how dangerous he was, knew how cruel and heartless he could be, and she realized what a reign of terror the magical and Muggle world was in for.
But she couldn’t stop it. No will of a fifteen-year-old could stop the rise to power of one of the greatest wizards of all time, and she knew that all too well. Not even hers, though she had known him, was friendly with him, and had saved his fiancée from an almost certain death. Litharelen hadn’t been able to turn his mind from its purpose, and if she couldn’t do it, then Lily was definitely not going to be able to.
Lily had tried to push all this out of her mind, but it kept coming back, it kept intruding, and she found herself reaching involuntarily for the chain around her neck, hoping some way to deter Tom’s mind from its purpose, before she came to her senses and retracted her hand.
She was getting along all right with the Marauders; at least with Sirius and Remus. Peter was too shy for her, and he never really talked much. Lily had always wondered why he, a tagalong nutcase, had ever been let into the Marauder group, but she supposed there had to be some quality of a danger-loving rulebreaker in him somewhere for the boys to like him that much.
James she didn’t see too often…he was usually poring over books in the common room with Serena, doing his detentions, making jokes about teachers in their classes, or he was at Quidditch practice. Lily had to smile every time she saw him with Serena…he had an odd light in his eyes that never came to light when he was speaking to anyone else. She didn’t know if Sirius and Remus had seen it; she didn’t think so, for she knew that they’d ridicule him beyond anything that was dear to anyone if they did.
Professor Dorvan was jumping the gun when it came to curses. They were only supposed to learn about the Unforgivable Curses in their seventh year, but without consulting anyone, Professor Dorvan was teaching them the ways to block the curses, though only one in five thousand wizards were capable of performing the countercurses only to the Cruciatus Curse, even if they weren’t rolling on the floor, screaming.
So far they had only practiced the words, though that was all they were going to be doing; their teacher had no intention of going to Azkaban for torturing her students. The Imperious Curse, though, they were facing; they were doing idiotic things like rummaging through their desks and making paper airplanes out of notes they had been passing, and then handing them to Professor Dorvan. They had learned not to pass notes in her class.
Professor Flitwick, the small Charms teacher, was trying to bury the steps to decorating a room with holiday trappings into their heads; he was trying as hard as he could to make them understand the basic principles of making snow non-melting, but the whole class seemed to have developed a sort of block about it, maybe because they were standing in a classroom with snow falling from the ceiling.
The last Quidditch game, Gryffindor against Slytherin, would decide not only which House won the Quidditch Cup, but which house won the House Cup, unless someone from the winning House did something stupid and lose about a hundred points or so.
Along with everyone else, Lily was excited and anxious for the game; though she wasn’t the kind of Quidditch lover like James, who would suffocate if he were taken off of his broomstick, it was fun to watch once in a while.
The teams were practicing late, and they would come in growling if a thunderstorm hit, complaining that Madam Hooch wouldn’t let them practice through the thunderstorms. Lily could see Madam Hooch’s point of view when she looked at the windows; whips of rain were lashing the windows, bolts of lightning wider than their fists were glancing down the golden hoops on the Quidditch field, and the sky, purple and dark blue, was lit up to a pale grey ever so often when one of those lightning bolts struck.
Lily saw no reason why the team was complaining about being sent inside.
It was pouring water balloons the morning of the match, and Peeves couldn’t have been more delighted. He had pushed a melancholy ghost that haunted one of the girls’ toilets to try to drown herself, and he was pleased with the result. So pleased, in fact, that he had cleaned out the Gryffindors’ supply of red clothing. They appeared at breakfast in the regular black school robes, devoid of crimson cloaks, burgundy hoods, ruby scarves, and scarlet socks. Peeves was taken to task for that, but when Professor McGonagall found that he had put a few of the socks into the bread mixture, the students as a whole reached for their plates and shoved them as far away from them as possible.
Soon, however, the noisy group rose from their seats and made for the Quidditch field, where they trooped into their seats. Everyone was too excited about a good Quidditch game to notice that the members of the Gryffindor team were looking slightly more pale than was normal.
Most people had had the foresight to bring umbrellas; those that didn’t were sharing. Lily didn’t want to bother with one, so she had simply thrown on Severus’ cape, pulled the hood on over her head, and charmed it with the Impervius spell; it was repelling water now, and she was relatively dry; at least, she was less soaked than those that hadn’t brought umbrellas. Lily was kept busy for a few minutes, charming other people’s cloaks and robes, but then the game started, and they could almost forget about the rain.
The Ravenclaw commentator had been removed because of the biased comments, and a Slytherin boy with dark hair and icy grey eyes was commentating. They seemed to go through commentators awfully quickly, Lily thought, though the one before the Ravenclaw had graduated; she hadn’t been discharged.
Down on the field, the teams mounted their brooms. On Madam Hooch’s whistle, they rose into the air; there was a momentary squabble over the Quaffle, and then the commentary started.
“And they’re off! Quaffle goes to James Potter of Gryffindor; he’s heading up the field there, skirts a Bludger and a Beater, and makes his way around Slytherin Chaser Reynold Atherton—the Quaffle goes to Miranda Shaw of Gryffindor. She does a nice swerve underneath Slytherin Seeker Roger Knappett, leans forward—and the Quaffle goes to Rebecca Oxley of Gryffindor—Potter—Shaw—Potter—and Potter scores! Ten-zero to Gryffindor!”
The Gryffindors’ cheers pierced the falling rain, and James, contrary to his usual feint of bowing exaggeratedly, was squinting through the sheets of water at something.
“Quaffle goes to Slytherin Chaser Charlotte Rowlands; she elbows Oxley in the side, dodges a Bludger—and the Quaffle is in the hands of Atherton—Rowlands—and Rowlands is heading up the field—flying, flying…aiming--!”
Suddenly, a large Bludger came hurtling from John’s direction when Reynolds had her arm raised to throw. It caught her off guard, despite the warning cries of her teammates, seized her in the side, and bowled her over several times; she was barely clinging on to her broom with her knees when it stopped hurtling. Climbing on top of her broom again, she shot a death glare at John, but it was too late; the Quaffle was in the hands of the Gryffindors, and the match went on.
“Quaffle goes to Oxley of Gryffindor; she’s heading up the field, throws—Quaffle to Shaw—Potter…Potter flying—Shaw—Potter—Oxley—no, no—Oxley dropped the Quaffle; it’s in the hands of Slytherin Chaser Gerard Fulford. Fulford flying towards the goalposts—Quaffle stolen from him by Potter—that was a snatch underneath the arm there, and Potter’s flying up the field…”
Soon the score was fifty to thirty for Gryffindor, and the game was getting rougher. John was hitting Bludgers right and left, barely missing his teammates as the Slytherins bowled over and over, scarcely hanging on to their brooms. Besides that, if possible, the rain started to hurtle down even harder than it had been, and people were standing in puddles in the stands. Lily had resorted to performing the Impervius charm twice on cloaks, hoods, and robes, and she had started doing it to people’s shoes, too.
Most of the students carrying umbrellas were soaked, including Lora and Sirius, who were sharing one, and wanted to see if they could last the game without drowning. Presently it didn’t look too good.
Up in the air, the match went on.
“Slytherin Chaser Atherton heading towards the goals—he aims—no, he throws the Quaffle to Fulford there—back to Atherton—Rowlands—Fulford—Rowlands—ROWLANDS SCORES!! SCORE IS EIGHTY TO SIXTY!”
The Slytherin end was cheering as hard as they could, though the Gryffindors were booeing with all their might. With renewed energy, the teams started to play again.
“Slytherin Beater Alan Greenwood launches nasty Bludger at Gryffindor Beater Shaw—she ducks, but not fast enough—OUCH!—that must have hurt, straight on the jaw!”
Miranda was sinking to the ground, grasping her mouth with both hands, only narrowly holding a scream of pain in. Lily almost ran down to her, but the crowd prevented her from moving at all.
“Oh, that must have hurt! But—wait—no, she’s up! She’s back in the air! And—the game continues!”
Anya had landed first, and she had sprinted over to Miranda, splashing her with mud. She had bent down, and Miranda had said something; straightway after that, both girls regained their brooms. Suddenly, everyone’s attention was drawn to both Anya and Knappett, the Slytherin Seeker, who were heading for a remote golden, gleaming point near the bottom of the goalposts.
Everyone was on the tips of their toes, holding their breath.
“Both Seekers heading for the Snitch! MacGregor pulls ahead—no, Knappett—they’re neck to neck—wait—where’d that Bludger come from—Winters hits a nasty one towards both of them—Knappett curls over—and—MACGREGOR CATCHES THE SNITCH—GRYFFINDOR WINS THE MATCH!”
Hordes of Gryffindors were pouring onto the muddy field, along with the rain, hugging the team members and lifting them onto their shoulders, cheering with all their might. All except Miranda; Madam Pomfrey immediately transported her to the hospital wing; her jaw was broken.
That was the only drop of uneasiness that the Gryffindors felt that day, as Professor Dumbledore presented Nigel with the Quidditch Cup and it was passed along to Anya, who raised it high above the crowds, almost crying with glee and happiness.
The rest of the afternoon and the night, while rain and bits of branches hit the windows and walls of the castle, the party in Gryffindor House raged. Lora and Sirius had managed to sneak the trophy out of its position in the trophy room, and it was standing proudly in the middle of the common room. James would have helped, but as one of the Quidditch heroes, his disappearance would have been noticed, and so would his reappearance from underneath an Invisibility Cloak. He was also rather incapable of moving without wincing and groaning a bit, as he seemed to be the major target for the Slytherin Beaters.
Remus, Sirius, Peter, and Lora had made their way down to the kitchens before the Gryffindors returned. Within a good quarter-hour, they were back with half of the food that had been made for the Gryffindor dinner table, including sausages, custards, pastries, puddings, ice cream, cakes, éclairs, treacle tarts—everything they could sneak out of the kitchens.
The house-elves were falling over each other to hand them as many platters and pitchers as they could, and they ended up having to make five trips each. Sirius and Remus made several secret trips to Hogsmeade for candy from Honeydukes and butterbeer from The Three Broomsticks, which was meanwhile giving them a discount, as they always bought such a large amount for the parties.
The result was magnificent. The common room was piled high with everything they could imagine when it came to sweets, and Gryffindor banners were smothering the windows and walls. Lora had even managed to lure a fairy into the room, and it took its place on top of the Quidditch cup, sparkling with glee.
Everyone was laughing that night, and everyone, including Serena, Elspeth, and Diana, stuffed their faces until they couldn’t hold any more.
It was after the party that the real studying for the exams began; not only Lily was burying herself in the library. It was usually crowded during the evening hours they had free, and every single fifth, sixth, and seventh year was edgier, if possible, than they had been the last year.
The Gryffindors and some Slytherins were swamping Lily with requests to get them books from the Restricted Section of the library, and Madam Pomfrey was keeping her at her wits’ ends for excuses on why she needed books entitled Grotesque Transformations: The Secret Behind it all or Transfigurations to be Avoided.
Easter holidays went by so quickly that the students hardly noticed they had passed. Peter had actually asked James when they would start, a week after they had passed. It had provided a large laugh when James interrupted the common room’s studying, and Peter got several crumpled bits of parchment thrown at his head.
