|
|
Post by JAMES IGNOTUS POTTER on May 23, 2014 23:35:18 GMT -5
Quidditch practice had been long and extremely tedious. James loved his team and supported them whole heartedly, but there was something about having a team with girls on it that sometimes irked him. When he was a second year and finally allowed by Professor McGonagall to try out for the team, the team was all boys. Slowly but surely, more girls started trying out. It wasn’t that they weren’t good. James respected them as some of the best players in Hogwarts, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything. But he remembered what it was like to be a part of an all-boys team, a boys club, somewhere he could go to just be a total git of a guy and no one would judge him for it because everyone else was acting the same way. There were just some things that he said that got him dirty looks from them, the girls, but he was just being a dude in his dude space! To him…the locker room was the ultimate man’s hideout, but it was half filled with girls. Oh well. They were winning championships, so he couldn’t complain. And he didn’t. But sometimes he would come back to the Gryffindor Common Room a little disgruntled by memories of what ‘the good old days’ used to be like. He knew better than to open his mouth and say something about it…the three girls would hex him in an instant and Sirius would just laugh. After a particular evening in the locker room where just such looks had been given, James decided to stay late and work on tactics. The team had run off. They had lives that involved a lot less self-centeredness and a lot less Quidditch. James’ life was basically self-appreciation and the sport, so it made sense that he would work on tactics for an entire evening and leave the locker room happy as a pixie…if those creatures were as happy as they were obnoxious. It was almost one in the morning, and he was definitely not supposed to be out of bed. But he had an invisibility cloak, a penchant for danger, and an amazing ability to be silent when necessary (though many didn’t believe this as he liked to talk a lot…about himself). He’d made the trek to Gryffindor Tower many times after many long nights in the locker room, and he’d even showered there before making this particular journey, when he usually just showered in the tower. The Fat Lady, who was so obsessed with James and the charm he extended her that she almost always opened for him without requiring a password, let him in as usual. He thanked her with a wink, and she turned a lovely shade of pink, squealing “…stop it, James! You flatter me, you rascal, you!” Climbing through the portrait hole, James pulled off the invisibility cloak before being revealed by the light of the common room, a trick he had mastered at a young age to avoid anyone inside learning of the cloak. With the cloak stuffed quickly into his Quidditch bag, he dropped it and his broomstick, a Nimbus 1976 (top of the line for him, always), onto the floor next to one of the two armchairs by the fire, gratefully falling into the plushy chair. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower, and the heat of the fire felt nice against his feet, warming up his entire body. He shut his eyes for a moment, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Despite tomorrow being a Monday, he’d had a good day. And tomorrow…well it couldn’t be so bad.
|
|
