G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

As they passed by the Medical College, James was surprised to see Uncle Percy standing near the doors, his face tense and distracted. Lucy stood by his side as well as a small knot of nurses, doctors, and (James noticed with some dismay) Wizarding Court officials. He recognized the latter by their slate grey tunics and severe expressions.

"What's going on over there?" he asked, nudging Ralph and pointing.

Ralph looked and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe they're here for the match?"

"Uncle Percy, perhaps," James said doubtfully, raising his voice over the accompanying crowd, "but not those blokes from the American Wizarding Court."

Zane peered over the crowd toward the doors of the Medical College. "I don't see Keynes, at least."

James nodded, frowning. "No. But still…" He paused, craning to look as the crowd pushed him onward, past the medical complex. A blonde-haired girl moved next to Lucy in the center of the gaggle of court agents. It was Izzy, her face pale and worried, looking up at the severe expressions of those all around her. James felt a sudden sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"Izzy's with them," Ralph said, noticing the same thing. "You don't think…"

"They wouldn't," Zane said, not very convincingly. "Not while the match is going on. Keynes and his goons may have plans to Obliviate Iz and send her off to be adopted into the Muggle world, but they wouldn't do it already. Er… I think."

James wasn't so sure. As the crowd forced the team onward toward Pepperpock Down, he lost sight of the gathering on the Medical College steps. Just because Keynes wasn't visible, that didn't mean he wasn't there. He could very well be inside, making arrangements. The arbiter didn't strike James as the sort of man who would allow a sporting event to interrupt his plans. Still, there was nothing James could do about it at the moment. He felt a deep sense of misgiving, nonetheless. At least Uncle Percy was there, and Lucy. They wouldn't let anything bad happen to Izzy.

If they could help it, at least.

James shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He had other difficulties at the moment.

Pepperpock Down hove into view as the team angled around Administration Hall. It was already nearly full, thrumming with the roar of the crowd, alive with waving flags and popping bursts of Firework Spells. James' heart skipped a beat and then galloped to catch up. He grinned as the crowd escorted the team into the shadow of the rampart grandstands. A cheer went up in support of the approaching Bigfoots. It throbbed in the air, blotting out every other noise, and James couldn't help turning to look back at his fellow players, exultant with nervous excitement.

"Go Foots!" Jazmine Jade suddenly cried, raising her voice, barely, over the roar of the cheers.

" Go Foots !" the rest of the team echoed back, pumping their fists in the air. Mukthatch let out a surprisingly loud roar,and then grinned a little sheepishly as everyone boggled at him.

A moment later, the team crossed the field and disappeared into the cellar locker room, where their skrims and Professor Wood awaited them.

"This is it, team!" he called out, clapping his hands together eagerly. "Get geared up and let's meet on the platform for practice laps in ten minutes!"

Wood met James' eye as he turned to climb the steps. He winked and smiled crookedly, almost mischievously. James grinned at the professor and then began to strap on his new wrist gauntlets.

By the time the last of the team clumped up onto the platform, the sun had lowered to a huge bronze ball on the horizon, casting its last beams onto the waving flags and banners of the grandstands. The crowd was in extremely high spirits, producing a nearly constant roar of happy exhilaration. James blinked in the late afternoon glare and fingered his skrim.

Only minutes earlier, while the team had still been congregated in the locker cellar, James had called them together in a quick huddle. There, he had announced one change to the evening's Clutch magic game.

"No curses," he'd said firmly, producing a chorus of objections from the gathered team members.

"Why not?" Norrick had asked stridently. "We'll need to use everything we've got against those Wolves!"

"Not curses," James had repeated. "Leave the potion pouches down here in your lockers. They may be legal and they may not be, but that's not really the point, is it? The Foots play a clean game. Nothing dirty, right? We'll win this match, but we'll do it with our heads held high just like always! Understood?"

"James is right," Jazmine had added resolutely, removing the potion pouch from around her neck. "We'll win this match straight up! We don't need to resort to Vampire curses. That sort of thing is for teams that don't play as well as the Bigfoots! Am I right?"

To James' surprise and delight, the team had responded with a hearty cheer. All around, the Bigfoots players had removed the potion pouches from around their necks and piled them on the shelf next to their skrims.

Now, standing in the sunset light and looking across the rings toward the Werewolves' platform, James felt a pang of doubt. The powdered curses might have been sneaky and a bit devilish, but all of a sudden James agreed with Norrick: they were going to need everything in their arsenal to beat the Wolves.

With their backs to the sunset, Team Werewolf appeared to be fringed with molten gold. Clayton Altaire stood in the front, grinning malevolently, his skrim standing next to him, decorated with a snarling wolf's visage. Flanking him were Olivia Jones and Jeremiah Dunckel. All of them stared across the lofty open space of the field, smirking with seamless confidence.

"Don't let them spook you," Wood called, summoning the team into a huddle. "Team Werewolf is a good team, an excellent team, but you lot are every bit as skilled as they are and then some. Their overconfidence will be their downfall! They expect to win this match easily with hardly any effort. They think that Victory Hill is their birthright. Are they right?"

"No!" Team Bigfoot cried out in rowdy unison.

"Will you lie down and let them win just because they're the Werewolves?"

" No !" the team barked again, louder.

Wood shouted over the crowd, " Will you take the match to them and show them that their arrogance is their greatest weakness!?"

This time, the team exploded in a shout so loud that the crowd all around could hear them. "YES!"

"Who are we?" Wood demanded.

"The Bigfoots!"

Wood asked again, "WHO are we?"

"THE BIGFOOTS!" This time, the shout dissolved into a deafening cheer as the gathered crowd took up the cry, turning it into a chant: " BIG -FOOTS! BIG -FOOTS! BIG -FOOTS!" Fireworks popped from the grandstands all around and banners waved frantically against the purple sky.

"Line up!" Wood shouted, smiling grimly. "Practice laps! Team captain?"

"Viper formation," Jazmine barked, dropping her skrim and jumping onto it. " Go Foots !"

The rest of the team returned the cry and followed Jazmine out into the rings, slipping easily into formation. James was among the last to take off. For one instant, he felt a pang of mortal worry. This isn't going to work , he thought, panic washing over him like a tidal wave. We can't do this! They'll slaughter us! Fo r a split second, he was convinced that he had forgotten everything—all the game magic they had practiced, all the formations and maneuvers, everything the other House teams had taught them, even how to fly a skrim. He stared down at the odd broom as it floated next to him, one of his feet planted on its middle, holding it steady. He felt frozen in place.

A hand clapped him gently on the shoulder. When James looked up, it was Professor Wood.