the_debt_of_time

had stopped trying to protect him, she immediately noticed a change; especially during
moments like this when the wolf inside of him was clearly trying to protect her—even with
something as small as a long scarf against a cold breeze.
"Thank you," she said softly, watching as Remus puffed out his chest a bit in
response to her gratitude.
With a roar from the crowd and Madam Hooch's whistle, the players took to the
sky. James flew fast, reaching the Quaffle before anyone on either team.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Gryffindor Reserve Chaser, James Potter.
Potter, speeding along, makes a pass to Smythe. Smythe to Prewett, Prewett back to Potter,
and right past Slytherin Keeper, Emma Vanity! Gryffindor takes the first goal of the game!"
the announcer shouted.
Mia and Remus cheered from the stands, shouting James's name, and soon the
entire section was screaming, "Potter! Potter! Potter!"
"Oh, his head is never going to deflate now," Mia groaned.
Remus grinned. "At least this time he'll have an ego over something he's actually
done."
"Slytherin now in possession," the announcer continued. "Captain Steve Laughalot
isn't laughing now as he dodges Bludgers on his way toward the Gryffindor Keeper.
Laughalot shoots and misses, thanks to a hit from Reserve Beater, Sirius Black! There's
nothing funny about this situation now for the Slytherins!"
"Go slower!" Mia screamed as Sirius passed by her in the stands, laughing as he did.
Sirius was in his element and had never felt more fulfilled in his years so far at
Hogwarts. James rushed down the pitch, desperate to knock at least one snake off their
broom. Sirius, however, was being surprisingly obedient after being ordered by their team
Captain to remain close to the end of the pitch to help their Keeper block the goals; she
had just been released from the hospital wing after breaking her arm a month earlier.
As a flash of gold flew across the field, attracting the attention of both Seekers, a
flash of something else caught Sirius's attention across the pitch.
Light reflecting off of pale blond hair in the distance. The sun hit the hair in such a
way that it was almost reflective. This surprised him because the pale blond head was
turning away from the game entirely rather than focusing on it. But that was not all: the
blonde in question was climbing up the stairs toward the back of the stands.