The roar of the crowd was deafening, brooms streaking across the pitch in flashes of scarlet and navy. You sat beside your father, scarf wound tight, knuckles white on the edge of your seat.

You tried to follow the blurs of Quaffles and Bludgers. But then your eyes found him, and everything else fell away.

James Sirius Potter. Two years since you’d last seen him. Two years since graduation, since that quiet goodbye when you both agreed to let go.

And now—almost the same. Your eyes found him as easily as they always had, and your chest tightened when he leaned into the dive. The boy who used to grin at you across the pitch lived on in every sharp turn, every fearless move—just steadier now, a little more sure of himself, but unmistakably him. And when he dove, breathless and reckless as ever, your heart caught like it was yesterday. You were back at Hogwarts, watching him the way you always had. The years between dissolved in an instant, until all that existed was him and the Snitch glinting in his hand.