When James Potter fell from the Cherry Tree (Part 2)

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The flying cups pass over their heads, dodging before colliding in the tables nearby.

The crystal balls show the first minutes of the match and while the Pakistani beater sends the bludger away from the field, the England seeker stands hundreds of feet off the ground, waiting for the snitch to appear to be able to jump on it.

It's a Quidditch World Cup and James, instead of examining the plays, examines Sirius's expression, trying to unravel the mystery of the Secret Girl Who-Has-Managed-To-Seduce-A-Black.

- Who is it?

- Potter, you are making up a movie, and even though it is a comedy, it's still a fucking fantasy of yours.

He will not give up so easily.

- It shows on your face, Padfoot. In fact, it has been showing on your face months ago since!

- I'm sorry to tell you, Prongs, that you're a dumb ass. - He reaches one of the beers that fly past him. Pakistan scores a goal and the bar becomes a heart that expels boos and cries of disappointment. - Just because that waitress has her boobs too far apart and her eyes too close together you already have to draw exaggerated conclusions?

- Sabine McCalloway! From Ravenclaw!

She is a brunette with green eyes. And a beautiful ass. Very smart.

- You're insane, Potter.

- Juliette Harris.

From Hufflepuff. Blonde. Small but very funny.

- She's leggy, James.

- Imelda Corn Smith.

-Spit when she talks!

James mentally goes over the list of Hogwarts female students. Nobody happens to be the one, but there has to be someone, damn it.

-Isn't she a schoolgirl?

- There is no girl.

-She has to be from school. All the people you meet in London are evil.

Pakistan's second goal. England moves little to attack and failures in defence would make a third-year team blush. Customers yell at the crystal balls as if the English players could hear them.

- Do you want to quit, now?

-You like a girl, Padfoot and I'll find out what her name is.

It is useless if Sirius promises him for John Lennon that there is no girl. James has been putting up with jokes and pranks and owls to the radio for years, and now Sirius will experience revenge. The sweet, sweet revenge.

-I'll find out who she is. I will fill the school with ads that announce that you fancy her. I'll poison your food so you get acne. I will tell her all your embarrassing anecdotes and when I run out of ideas, I will go to Remus to see what comes to him.

England's first goal. At last, amid mist and mist, the snitch. The Seekers are going for it. The Englishman runs off.

-I don't think he'll help you in such a noble task.

- Are you kidding me? For all the times you've called him a nerd, weakling,

little, skinny and faggot, not only will it help me, but he will lend himself volunteer to torment you till the end of time.

- I've never called him a weakling.

Sirius defends himself with little conviction.

-What's more, Mate, this will amuse him so much that he will write the entire book of shameful anecdotes about you and when they don't occur to him anymore, he will tie you to the bed until you confess that you used to piss in the bed till the fourth year.

-Will he tie me to the bed?

- Until you confess.

It is a spectacular game. Nobody sees it coming. The snitch skims the ground, the English seeker is behind, Pakistan one foot away, the ball is thrown towards the stars and both players climb up, dodge the bludger for an almost invisible distance and disappear where the eye cannot reach, in a place reserved for clouds and glory.

- You know what, Potter? You tell Remus to try.

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