Running With Wolves

Chapter 22: The Hospital Wing

Chapter 22: The Hospital Wing

It was far too early in the morning when James marched Sirius and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team down to the Great Hall that morning. He'd thrown open the dormitory window to fervid protest and allowing chilly wind to rip through the room. The sound of the wind had woken the other two, who had fallen promptly back asleep.

Now, the team of seven marched resolutely through the corridors, James at its head. He was the only one who seemed to be awake, or particularly ready.

The Great Hall was almost completely empty when they arrived. Two Slytherin students sat at their table, talking animatedly as they ate their breakfast, and a Ravenclaw sat alone at her table, reading a book propped up on a glass of orange juice. James sat the team down in the middle of the Gryffindor table.

"What's that muggle saying, Sirius? Early bird has worms, or whatever?" he asked

"Early bird gets the worm," Sirius corrected.

"Right, that. Early bird gets the worm. The only way to win the Quidditch cup is to train harder and be more prepared than the other teams. We'll have a good breakfast, then we'll head to the locker rooms to get ready." James punctuated his speech by hauling a plateful of toast in front of him and buttering it enthusiastically. Sireen was the only one who followed his example, spooning porridge with a confidence Sirius was sure he couldn't muster. Dervla moodily speared some sausages on a fork, putting them into her mouth with decidedly less enthusiasm. Mallory seemed to have fallen back asleep, her hand pulling her cheek up, until her hand slipped, and she woke with a start. Ben only played with his food. James swatted at him like an annoyed parent. Spencer looked like the golden snitch had flown down his throat, and he was trying to swallow it.

Every once in a while, James spewed encouragements such as, "We're the best team at Hogwarts, those stuck up purebloods have no chance!" or "We're going to clobber the Slytherins or die in process!" Some were more helpful than others. By the time Remus and Peter arrived, Sirius' heart was doing a damned fine impression of a drum set. He was used to being on their side of James' horrifying and sometimes eccentric pre-match routines. He had hitherto failed to appreciate the stress that accompanied such actions.

Remus sat down across form Sirius rather stiffly. His hair was mussed almost as much as James'; Sirius stopped himself from reaching across the table to comb it flat with his fingers.

"How are you feeling?" Remus' words were as stiff as the rest of him.

"I'm fine." Sirius lied. Remus puffed out a breath, dragging his fingers through his hair. Again, Sirius was reminded of James, copied the movement as Lily appeared, letting her friends go, and plopping down beside Remus. Sirius liked it better when Remus did it. The movement was less purposeful, like Remus didn't realize he was doing it at all.

"You four have some explaining to do," she said, pointing a finger at all of them in turn.

"What do you want to know, Lils?" asked James.

"How long have you had that cloak?"

"It was my dad's. He gave it to me first year."

"So, the four of you have been wandering around the school at night for, what, five years?"

"Yeah."

"Under the noses of all the teachers?"

"Yeah."

"And you never got caught?"

"Sure, we did, loads of times. You don't think all the other stuff is what got us the record for most detentions by a group of students in Hogwarts history? Eat something, Sirius."