The field was set, the teams chosen and fairly divided for the most part.

Team Potter consisted of Seeker James Potter, Chasers Bradley Scamader, Nymphadora Tonks, as well as Theo and Roger Thomas. For their beaters were Lily Potter and Eli, and Keeper Sirius Black. James used his wand to produce red t-shirts that read POTTERS RULE and the team was thusly identified.

Team Odair had Oliver Kent as their Seeker, naturally, supported by Chaser Michael, Nate, Alfie Thomas, and Meg Johnson-soon-to-be-Odair. Ted Tonks and Jasper himself played as Beaters and Kevin excitedly took up the place as what he called Goalie, having played goal in soccer at school. Jasper's team had yellow t-shirts which read ODAIR WE GO.

"Hang on -" Sirius said, seeing Jasper's team shirts. He looked at the Potter Rules shirt in his hand. "I wanna be on Jasper's team."

"What?"

"I want that fucking shirt."

James stared at Sirius, offended, as Sirius trotted off and there was a quick discussion during which Jasper laughed uproariously, then grinned at James and waved as Kevin and Siris traded teams, Kevin taking Sirius's red shirt as Sirius squeezed into the one Kevin had been about to put on. It fit him more like a halter top so his stomach was exposed, but he seemed okay with that.

James discreetly gave him a rude gesture and Sirius fired back with deuces.

Dora Potter was settling herself down with the tiny Nessa on the blankets, coddling the little dear and singing nursery rhymes to her, perfectly contented to act the part of spectator, right along side Andromeda, who would step in whenever Eli lost his attention span. Dora was however showing her team bias by wearing one of the t-shirts for James's team.

Remus Lupin was to be the seated referee and was given a kazoo, which Sirius pulled from the pocket of his leather jacket.

"What do you do, just keep those things tucked in there for special occasions?" Remus demanded as Sirius produced the orange kazoo when there was a lament for want of a whistle.

"You never know when you'll need a good kazooing," Sirius had said. Then, "Remus, I'm going to be Keeper."

"Yes, I heard," Remus said.

Sirius grinned, "Try not to be jealous when everyone's throwing their balls at me."

Remus flushed as Sirius pulled on his motor cycle helmet for want of better protective gear in his size and bounded off across the filed to the rings that James indicated.

"You knew it was coming if you're honest with yourself," Lily said, braiding her hair.

Remus said, "I never know what's coming with him. Ever."

"Yes, but you do always know that there is something coming," Lily said. She patted Remus's shoulder. "Here, hold Yertle the Turtle."

"I'm going to be a referee, remember?"

"Yertle will help," she answered as she dashed across the grass to where James was waving for her to join a huddle.

"Don't think he really will though," Remus said as Yertle's legs waved about.

"Alright lot, we're up against a good team here," James said, "Meg played the tourney back in second year and Jaz was a captain. Plus they've got Oliver on as Seeker, he's brilliant. Can't be lax about him. Now, everyone remember the rules how Jasper and I explained them?"

"YES!" cried Eli enthusiastically.

They'd had to modify quite a bit, actually, and the game was a bit closer to soccer in the muggle world than to quidditch, perhaps, but it was going to work to allow for no one to be left out while still having a bit of a magical quality to it. Instead of three chasers, they'd modified to have four on each team, allowing there to be a position for everyone who wanted to play. The chasers could kick or throw the quaffle, which had been magically softened a bit to allow for young bodies. In stead of bludgers that could harm unprepared little ones, Lily had come up with the idea that the beaters should have the duty of gently blocking passes and shots (which is why Sirius had been demoted from the position of Beater, for as Lily said the word he'd snorted "gently? what's the point of having a BEATER if it's gentle?" and they'd unanimously agreed to move him to Keeper, "there, see how gentle you want it to be when it's you getting balls flung at you," Lily had said, much to Sirius's delight as he snickered). The shots would count as 3 points each, this was to make getting to a winning number easier for the kids, and they all agreed that catching the snitch meant fifty points as in real quidditch, and that the Seekers would be the only people actually flying off on the broomsticks.

It was a brilliant time, the kids were having a blast, shouting and running about, blurs of yellow and red and the quaffle soaring through the air this way and that way and Eli was running and yelling without any real direction until he caught the quaffle and rushed and threw it into Kevin's hoop, despite being on the same team. "Think that counts for the Potters anyway," Jasper said to Lily, who nodded, and Sirius protested loudly from the far end. Eli was so happy to have got a shot in that Sirius was overruled by the Referee, who whispered in Sirius's ear that he'd make it up to him with a different sort of score later.

The goal marked the end of the game for Eli, who didn't want to play anymore, and ran over to lay on the blankets with Yertle, Nessa, and Mrs. Potter, sending Andromeda into the game. Andromeda turned out to be a valuable asset for the Potters, and Sirius found himself knocked in the bare stomach with the quaffle rather roughly within minutes after she was in the game, a solid shot that made him double forward, clutching his stomach.

"Oi you're supposed to get it by me, not through me, Domeda," Sirius moaned, laying dramatically on the grass. "That'll be leaving a terrific bruise."

Andromeda smirked, tossing her pony tail over her hair as Tonks ran up and danced around her mum, "You did it! You did it mummy!" she sang proudly.

"I was a chaser in school," Andromeda said, smirking at Sirius and collecting a high-five from her enthusiastic husband.

Remus blew the kazoo. "Six to nil, Potters!" he called out and Sirius cursed and chucked the quaffle into play. He sank into the plastic lawn chair he'd conjured for himself and lowered a pair of sunglasses over his tired eyes.

How was Bradley playing so fluidly hours before the full moon? Remus wondered. But then again, he remembered feeling fine on moon days as a boy, too, and was glad Bradley didn't feel the aches and pains yet like he did. He remembered Ned Veigler saying that every moon was getting worse and worse and he realized maybe it had just been that Ned wasn't young anymore and the moon was aging him. Remus realized that he too was feeling it more as every month passed by and maybe he too was being aged slowly by the passing moons.

He was so distracted by the thoughts of those that he missed all the shouted warnings as Kevin deflected a shot on goal with a beautiful head butt...  sending the quaffle directly into the sidelines and hitting Remus in the head.

Sirius was out of the game, then, and they were down a referee as Sirius went to tend to Remus on the sidelines, which included a quick episkey and was followed up by the addition of a heckler to the crowd. To balance things, Lily sat out as well, deciding to play with the baby Nessa, unable to get enough the wee one, which meant reorganization in the teams.

Meanwhile, somewhat apart from all of the drama on the ground, James and Oliver were hovering above on their broomsticks, high enough up that they were able to talk without being interrupted by the noise and chaos below. Oliver's eyes darted along after the quaffle, waiting for a glint of gold to catch in the sunlight - the telltale of the snitch.

James observed how he was watching. "Have you read many books on quidditch, Ollie?" he asked.

"Through the Ages," Oliver replied.

"What about on player theory and all that?" James asked. Oliver shook his head. "Quaffle Talk?" Oliver shook his head some more. "I'll sign you up for a subscription later," James said, "I think you'll find it really interesting. It's a magazine, see, and they have articles, interviews with players - past and presesnt - and a lot of commentary on matches and technique. There's some great stuff in there."

"Excellent!" Oliver said, eyes still following the quaffle.

James grinned. "You're really a natural at seeking, aren't you?"

"You taught me a lot when you were captain," Oliver said. Then he added, "I don't know, I just noticed that there seems to be a pattern to it, I don't know how to explain it. It's like... if you watch the quaffle, and sort of... time your eyes just right... the snitch sort of... pops up a few secoonds later, but at a particular angle in the peripheral. Does that even make sense?"

"It's a triangulation," James said, "There's maths in it."

"I dunno about maths," Ollie shrugged, "But I know I can catch it if I watch the quaffle a certain -- Look- there. See?" Oliver pointed and James followed his gaze and sure enough, he'd locked in on the snitch. "Now I can watch the snitch... and bide my time 'til the score is where I want it to be, or until the snitch is in a good position."

James was impressed. "Pro quidditch sets won't work the same way. They're made to alter the triangulation of the school sets."

Oliver turned to look at James, letting the snitch out of his sights and stared at the older boy. "How do the professional snitches work?"

"They work on a tranulation within the bounds of a given pitch. The only way to keep the snitch within range of a game. The snitch has to be charmed to stay within the bounds. Therefore, when they're set free, they act like a positive-negative to the pitch. On home and school sets they work with the quaffle since they're played in backyards and the like, but the professional sets are made specific to the pitch. It keeps the athletes honest, too, because there's no weighing a snitch that way."

"Weighing a snitch?"

"Yeah, there's been players that have weighted a snitch, meaning they have a snitch that plays a particular proximity to some trait of the player which means they can tell where it is by where they are. In early days of quidditch, players could charm a snitch to respond to particular traits. For example, weighing a snitch might make it naturally gravitate toward a Gryffindor or a Slytherin."

"That's cheating."

"Yes it is."

Oliver made a face. He paused. "Is there a way to figure out the maths for the snitch in proleague? Or is that cheating also?"

"No, no it's a skill," James said. "All the players agree being able to look at a place and calculate things like that is a real skill. It's very hard to do I can't do it." James paused and looked at Oliver. "But I think you can."

Oliver looked at James. "Why do you think I could do that? I'm not good at maths."

"I think you do it already and don't realize it."

Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"You don't consciously do the math, maybe," James said, "Maybe not with numbers. But you know how to look at the quaffle at a certain angle. You don't know what number that angle equates out to if you were to diagram it, but you know where your eyes need to be. That's natural talent, it's instinct, it's... well, it's ruddy genius."

Oliver laughed, flushing and shook his head, looking away, pretending to look for the snitch, but just not really comfortable looking at James with those sorts of words coming from him. He gripped his broom tighter.

"Ollie."

Oliver gave himself a second to compose his face, then looked at James, his foot jiggling against the stirrup on the broomstick. "Yeah?"

"I know you've been through a whole lot in the last few years."

Oliver took a deep breath and looked away.

"Oliver."

He looked back, meeting James's eyes.

"You are not the things that have happened to you and you can and will do really great things if you believe in yourself. It's really easy to think you haven't got much to offer the world but the thing is we all have something. The world needs you Ollie, mate, and you're going to really show everyone what you're made of someday if you just believe in yourself, even when nobody else does." He paused then, "But there's not ever gonna be a time when nobody else does because I'll always believe in you."

Oliver's eyes widened and his nostrils flared.

"And so will Jasper and Meg."

Oliver took a shaky breath and looked away again, a sort of... panic in his chest.

"What's the matter, mate?" James asked gently.

"My mum and dad used to say that," he said, "That they believed in me and that I had to believe in me and -- and all that."

"So they'll always believe in you too."

"They're dead." Oliver's voice was hard, cold, disconected.

"Just because people die doesn't mean they can't believe in you still, Ollie," James said quietly. "My dad died and I know he still believes in me. And I know your parents - they still believe in you, too."

Oliver said, "They said they'd always be there for me."

"They are, then."

"They're not."

"They are the part of you that believes in yourself and if you do it you'll feel them." James reached out, pressed his palm against Oliver's chest. "You'll feel them."

Oliver stared at James's hand.

"What if I make mistakes?"

"Of course you'll make mistakes."

"You believe in me even though I'll make mistakes?"

"Yes. I believe in you to fix'em too."

"What if I can't fix'em?"

"You can."

"How?"

James considered a moment how to answer this. Then, finally, he said, "You fix mistakes by looking the mistake right in the face of it, really seeing where it went wrong, having the guts to see what part you played in it, figure out what you ought to have done instead... then own up to what you did do... and go and do what you ought to have done. Always say sorry for when you've done wrong, but don't if you haven't. Believe in yourself."

Oliver nodded. Then a grin flickered on his face.

"What?" James asked.

"It's just -- I'm about to beat you." And he shot off past James at full tilt, right over his shoulder, arms stretched long and caught the snitch in a second before James ever had the chance to react.

Oliver landed, hand held high, snitch in his fist and a grin on his face.