james potter

“Are you asking for yourself or for a ‘friend?’ I dunno, really. There’s this brilliant thing called communication, and if your friend is a good mate, you’ll be able to talk it through. Feelings are a complicated mess, but you can’t really help who you love, you know? Official answer: it’s a case by case basis.”

“I don’t think you’ve prepared yourself for this, but I have. It’s sort of my job to think about the other teams, yeah? As per usual, Slytherin’s decided brawn over brains is the way to it – so they’ve got themselves a particularly brutal team this year. I’m not too worried about it; they’ll probably piss themselves when they see our skill on the pitch. Hufflepuffs, my sweet darling badgers, are always good, but good doesn’t win a Quidditch match. Ravenclaw’s always been a bit tricky, because if there’s one thing they’re good at, it’s strategy. Should be an interesting year, to say the least – but Gryffindor’s still going to come out on top.”

“Naw, why bother with it? Then I’d probably have a whole new set of problems, and could you imagine how bloody exhausting that would be? I think I’ll stick with the set I’ve got now, thanks.” 

The stage was set; the actors were all in place. All James had to do was wait for the signal, and he was back to doing what he was best at -- finding holes in the world that he could slip through. All he needed was a quick glance at the map to tell him all he needed know, but he kept his cloak tucked beneath his arm. ( It was the one thing he was overly protective of. ) A nod at Sirius, a deep breath, a glance at the blazing determination on his fellow students, and he had all the courage he needed. 

And just like that, they were off. 

James led the group in the front, although he was far from the leader of the little band. There was very little thought to their plan; their goal was as simple as it could be. All they had to do was find Rosmerta. He kept his face stony, with the occasional flash of a reassuring smile directed towards the others, but inside, his heart raged against the darkness pressing in on them. Locked away in the safety of the castle, he felt useless, but out here, doing something, he felt as if this war might turn -- if only slightly. But what was victory in war but a collection of small battles? 

“Oi, talk about good questions. Let’s see… From Gryffindor, it would have to be Lils – and no, I’m not just saying this because I’m biased. She’s just, you know, brave and caring and I wish I was more like her and brilliant, and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? It’s about being courageous when sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is look past differences and extend a hand in friendship. Shit, when did I get so poetic?” He scratched at his chin as he continued to ponder the question, smile turning slightly sheepish. “From Hufflepuff, I’d be punched if I didn’t say Rosmerta. She isn’t all sunshine and daisies, which I think is what most people consider Hufflepuffs. She’d murder a man if he hurt her friends, but I think she’d also forgive him if that’s what it took. I dunno. I look at her, and I can’t imagine her anywhere else.” 

“’Course they are! Now, they refuse to tell me the exact nature of their proposal – they change it up every time I ask – but the look they give each other makes me want to ralph, which means it’s the In-Every-Universe-We-Make-Up-We’re-In-Love look. Disgusting.” He shuddered, thoroughly dramatic in the gesture. “Lately though, Dad’s been sickly, so Mum’s been worried, but I like to think they’ve gotten their happily ever after. Obviously, it won’t last forever, but it’ll last ‘em long enough.” 

“Red head! Wait, no – blonde! Is this a trick question?”