The following Friday, in Herbology class, James was amused to see that Neville Longbottom had moved Ralph's transfigured peach tree out of the Transfiguration classroom, where it had become rather cumbersome, and into one of the greenhouses.

        "All this from a banana." Neville confirmed to James after class.

        "Yeah. I bet Ralph was more surprised than anybody. He's amazing, but I don't think he knows his own power, really. Some of the other Slytherins think he's got some powerful old magical family in his bloodline. Could be, I suppose, since he never knew his mum."

        "That's the sort of thing they'd think," Neville said with unusual candor. "Muggle-borns can be just as powerful as anyone born of an old pureblood family. Some prejudices never change, though."

        James looked up at the peach tree, which had become rather large despite the fact that its roots were still twined hopelessly around one of the Transfiguration room tables. He knew Neville was right, but he couldn't help thinking about the look on Ralph's face the day he'd transfigured the banana. Ralph had never said so, but James had a sense that Ralph's power frightened him just a little.

        The next day, the Gryffindor Quidditch team was slated in a match against the Slytherins. James sat in the Gryffindor stands with Zane and Sabrina Hildegard. Ralph, for purposes of maintaining his few Slytherin friends, sat in the green-decked grandstand across the pitch. James made eye contact with Ralph once and waved. Ralph waved back, but carefully, being sure not to be seen by his older housemates.

Below, on the field, the team captains strode out to the centerline to meet with Cabe Ridcully for the declaration of rules and a handshake, a tradition that nobody really paid any attention to anymore. James watched Justin Kennely shake Tabitha Corsica's hand perfunctorily. Even from his vantage point high in the grandstand, James could see the smarmy, polite smile on Tabitha's admittedly beautiful face. Then both turned and walked in opposite directions back to their holding pens beneath the stands, leaving Ridcully alone with the Quidditch trunk.

        Zane happily munched a bag of popcorn he'd brought with him, having somehow convinced one of the kitchen house-elves to prepare it. "This should be an excellent match," he observed, taking in the highspirited crowd.

        "Gryffindor against Slytherin is always a crowd-stopper," Sabrina said, raising her voice over the noise. "Back in my mum's day, everybody hated Slytherin because they were dirty players. A guy named Miles Bletchley was the team captain back then, and he went on to play for the Thundelarra Thunderers for a couple of years until he was booted from the league for using a corked broom."

        "A what?" Zane interjected. "How do you cork a broom?"

        James explained, "It's a kind of cheating where a hole is drilled down the center of the broom and something magical is threaded into it, like a dragon's rib or a basilisk fang. Basically turns the whole broom into a magic wand. He was using it to cast Repelling Spells and modified Expelliarmus spells, making the opposing team fumble the Quaffle. Really crooked old bugger, he was."

        As he spoke, the Slytherin team streaked out from their holding pen to the sound of cheers from their grandstand. Damien, seated in the broadcast booth with his wand to his throat, announced the team, his voice echoing in the crisp January air.

        "So," Zane called over the cheers, "doesn't seem like everybody hates the Slytherins anymore."

        Sure enough, there was scattered applause throughout the rest of the grandstands. Only the

        Gryffindor stands booed and hissed. James shrugged. "They don't seem to play as dirty as they used to. But they still field unusually strong teams. There's something dodgy about them, it's just not as obvious as it used to be."

        "I'll say," Zane agreed. "When we played Slytherin before the break, it was as clean a match as I've played all year. Ridcully barely called a single foul on 'em. Still, there was something just a little too slick about them. They're either the luckiest bunch of skunks ever to mount brooms or they've made a deal with the devil himself."

        James gritted his teeth.

Across the pitch, Horace Slughorn, red-cheeked and bundled in a fur-collared coat and matching hat, waved a small Slytherin flag on a stick and yelled encouragements to his House team. Ralph, seated two rows below him, applauded dutifully. James knew that Ralph wasn't much of a Quidditch fan, despite the almost studious attention he paid to the matches, and James guessed that it was because Ralph couldn't really choose a team to be loyal to. His friends, including Rufus Burton, cheered and hooted wildly.

        The Gryffindor team took to the pitch next, streaming from the holding pen beneath their grandstand, and the spectators around James erupted, leaping to their feet as one. James shouted right alongside them, grinning and ecstatic, certain that the Gryffindors would win. He stomped his feet and yelled himself hoarse as the team circled the pitch, waving and grinning.

        The teams flew into position. After instructing the teams to play a clean match and assuring everyone was in position, Ridcully released the Bludgers and Snitch and tossed the Quaffle into the air. The players collapsed into a swarm, chasing the Bludgers and wrestling over the Quaffle. Noah and Tom Squallus, the two Seekers, streaked off after the Snitch, which darted around the Ravenclaw banners and vanished.

        Almost immediately, the difference between the teams became apparent. Gryffindor fought a textbook match, based entirely on carefully practiced drills. Justin Kennely could be heard shouting plays and formations over the cheering crowd, pointing and giving signs. The Slytherins, on the other hand, seemed to have a graceful, almost eerie playing style that moved them over the pitch like a school of fish. Tabitha Corsica called no directions from her broom, and yet her players peeled off and regrouped with dancelike precision. Once, while in possession, Tabitha ducked under a Bludger and simultaneously tossed the Quaffle over her shoulder. The ball arced through the air and was deftly caught by a teammate who had flown a perpendicular course directly underneath her. The teammate underhanded the Quaffle through the center goal before the Gryffindor Keeper even realized Tabitha didn't have it anymore. James groaned while the Slytherins stood and cheered. Justin Kennely looked as if he wanted to jump up and down on his broom in frustration. Still, an hour into the match, the score was one hundred and thirty to one hundred and forty in favor of Gryffindor, close enough that the lead had changed five times.

        "It's all about the Seekers in a match like this," Sabrina yelled exuberantly, not taking her eyes from the players. "And Squallus is new to that position since Gnoffton finished last year. Noah should be able to nail him to the wall with his own broom."