The Game
James was falling.
His heart lurched, panic clawing at his chest. His breath came in quick, shallow bursts as the endless blue stretched around him. The whole world had narrowed down to this one terrifying moment—this fall. But the strange thing was, it didn’t feel wrong. His body felt weightless, suspended in nothingness. The wind whipped around him, tearing at his face, carding through his hair. It didn’t feel like death, though. It felt... oddly peaceful?
His mind couldn’t settle on the thought long enough to make sense of it. Was this real? Was he dreaming? Or was this really it? But why wasn’t it worse? Why wasn’t he screaming, crumbling under the weight of impending doom? Maybe he was dead already.
Out of the corner of his eye, James spotted a canopy—of a jungle, perhaps—and he felt a strange sense of relief. Although the weightlessness and endless blue were comforting, he didn't want to be falling for eternity.
It only hit him a moment later that when he hit the ground, he’d be dead on impact.
His heart lurched again, that same sickening drop, as the realization settled cold and heavy in his chest.
That’s when the screaming started.
Regardless, James kept hurtling closer and closer to the canopy at an alarming speed. His heart returned to the bottom of his stomach, getting real cozy down there, and he realized he was going to die. He was going to die because of Sirius' stupid idea to press play on that busted game console.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he found himself wishing to be held in his mum’s arms, safe and warm, to feel his dad’s rib-cracking hug, and the way he’d kiss James’ forehead before letting go—just to feel it one last time.
He wrapped the memories around him like a cozy blanket on a winter’s night, and for just a second, he felt a flicker of peace. He was so caught up in that little sensation that he almost didn't notice that he had stopped falling.
With a desperate wish that this was all just a bad dream, he cracked open an eye.
He was in a jungle. Thick foliage prevented him from seeing more than five feet in any direction. What surprised him the most, though, was that he wasn’t a pancake on the jungle floor. In fact, he felt... surprisingly normal?
The jungle stretched out before him, thick trees reaching for the sky, sunlight filtering through the canopy. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of earth and decay. The ground beneath him was spongy, and the undergrowth treacherous. Strange, vibrant plants crowded the area, some with shimmering petals, others with jagged edges like teeth. Thick vines hung from the trees, swaying in the breeze. The silence was broken only by the rustle of leaves and distant bird calls, reminding James he wasn’t alone. The air hummed with insects, and the jungle felt alive, watching him, as though every plant and shadow hid something just out of sight.
A sudden thud sounded next to him, and James snapped his head to the side, his heart still racing.
There, just a few feet away, lay a man, flat on the ground as though he had been dropped from the heavens. He was staring up at the sky, eyes wide, as if questioning his very existence. James took a hesitant step forward, watching the man’s chest rise and fall in shallow breaths.
The man had messy, blonde waves that some would consider brown, and his slightly tanned skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat. His eyes were unfocused, darting around as if trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. He looked thoroughly disoriented.
For a moment, James couldn’t help but feel grateful that someone else was going through this as well.
"Are you... okay?" James asked, his voice sounding oddly small in the vast jungle.
The man blinked, his gaze slowly shifting from the sky to James. His eyes were a startling shade of blue, almost unnaturally bright against his tan skin, like shards of ice caught in the sun. He seemed to process the question for a moment before finally speaking, his voice rough.
"Did—did I just... fall? Is this real?"
James felt a chill run down his spine, though he didn't know why.
"What's your name?" James asked, his voice trembling so hard that even he wasn’t sure if the words had reached the stranger. Still, his mother had always insisted on manners, no matter the circumstances.
The man parted his lips as if about to answer, but before any sound could escape, the earth trembled beneath them as another figure hurtled down, crashing into their makeshift clearing with an echoing thud.
This time, it was a woman. She had blonde hair twisted into a loose bun at the back of her head, though a few pieces had slipped out and were framing her face. She looked down at her hands, her grey eyes widening as she took in the sight of what appeared to be... just normal hands.
She continued inspecting every inch of her body, eyes widening more and more each time, until her gaze finally landed on James and the other stranger. Her expression turned icy cold.
"Who are you?"
James didn’t get a chance to reply because, in the next moment, another crash echoed through the jungle. This time, it was followed by a series of curses and splutters before the next person hit the ground with a resounding thud, accompanied by a soft grunt.
"I’ve been falling for HALF AN HOUR! Why the hell did I ever agree to play that stupid game?" the man cursed, spitting out a mouthful of grass and getting to his feet.
The last stranger was on the shorter side, with deep brown skin and messy black hair that flopped into his green eyes. His gaze swept over the three people before him.
"Did we all get trapped here because of our dumb friend?"
"Think I am the dumb friend," the man next to him muttered, eyes glued to the jungle floor.
James stood there, watching as the four of them processed the situation. Something tugged at his gut, and the scene felt awfully familiar, though he couldn't place why. Then it clicked.
"Okay, this is going to sound insane," James interjected. "But I think I know who you are."
He turned to the first man, his mind racing. He hesitated only a moment before asking, "Sirius? Is that you?"
Sirius looked alarmed, his eyes widening in confusion. James didn't like the fact that they were blue; he wanted the same silver-grey that had comforted him for years back.
"How do you know who I am?" Sirius’s voice cracked slightly, his confusion palpable.
James held his hands out, palms facing Sirius, as if trying to calm a frightened animal.
"I—I’m James. Your best mate."
His eyes widened further, and James could see the relief start to settle in. It was almost like the clouds parting after a storm, the way his whole demeanor softened.
"James?" Sirius breathed, the word barely escaping his lips, as though he couldn’t quite believe it.
James managed a small, dry chuckle, despite the confusion swirling in his mind. "The same. I’ve had to drag your ass out of more trouble than I can count. I’ve earned the right to claim some credit for surviving all your bullshit."
He quickly broke eye contact, his gaze snapping to the second man. "Peter?"
Peter’s face lit up with a shaky, yet unmistakable smile. It was wobbly, but it was so, undeniably Peter that it didn’t matter.
"Yeah," he croaked, clearing his throat and looking away quickly, as though the weight of the situation was suddenly too much for him.
James’ eyes flicked to the last person in their group, meeting her gaze. "Regulus?"
Regulus let out a small, displeased noise, but nodded reluctantly.
Peter recovered the fastest, his voice shaking as he looked down at himself. "What is happening? And why am I black?"
Sirius raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn't peg you for a racist, Pete," he quipped, already settling back into his usual demeanor.
Peter's face flushed, and he stammered in response, flustered. "I—I'm not! It's just—everything's so messed up! I don't know what's going on, alright? This... this isn't me!"
Sirius rolled his eyes, his expression turning into one of exasperation. "Yeah, well, welcome to the club." He glanced at Peter's new appearance. "But you look... fine. Just stop overthinking it, yeah?"
Peter opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, realizing there was no point. Instead, he just shook his head in disbelief, muttering, "This is insane. Everything's insane."
Silence draped over the clearing like a thick fog—heavy, unrelenting, suffocating. It pressed down on them, stretching unbearably as they all grappled with the sheer absurdity of the mess they had just fallen into.
Sirius was the one to break the silence first.
"Wait..." Sirius' breath hitched as a sudden thought struck him. His gaze darted between them, taking in their altered appearances with growing alarm in his new eyes. "If you all look different, then—" His hands shot up to his face, patting frantically. "Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me."
Sirius rushed over to one of the many little puddles littering the floor, checking his reflection—and what he saw must have shattered his very sense of self. His breath caught as unfamiliar blue eyes stared back at him, set in a face that wasn’t his own. His usually sharp, aristocratic features were broader, his cheekbones less pronounced, his jawline subtly different. Even his hair, normally a wild, inky-black mess, was now a lighter shade, messy in an unfamiliar way. He stumbled back with a strangled noise, eyes wide with sheer, unfiltered panic.
"Not my hair!" Sirius screeched, hands flying to his head as if he could yank it off and put it back to normal. "Does this guy ever wash his hair? It looks like Snivellus'!"
His voice pitched higher as he tugged at his hair, desperately trying to fix it. "James! You gave me your hair!"
James opened his mouth to defend his—admittedly messy—hair, but Regulus cut in first, his usually silky voice pitched slightly higher than normal, "It's not the end of the world, brother. What should be the main priority is figuring a way out of this game."
"My hair is always the main pr—" Sirius howled, only for Peter to timidly interrupt, his voice quivering with barely-contained anxiety.
"We're in Jumanji? Like actually in it?"
A beat of silence followed.
James ran a hand down his face. "Well, considering we were just sucked into the game console and none of us look like ourselves anymore... yeah, Pete. I'd say we're actually in it."
Peter made a strangled noise, running his hands over his unfamiliar face like he was trying to make sense of it through touch alone. "No, no, no. This is—this can’t be real!"
Regulus, who had remained eerily calm through most of the exchange, exhaled sharply through his nose. "Panic won’t help us." His voice came out steadier than Peter’s but held a distinct edge of unease. "We need to focus."
"Focus on what?" Sirius snapped, still tugging at his unruly hair like he could somehow bully it back into its usual state. "What part of 'we just got dragged into a bloody game' is supposed to make sense?"
James exhaled sharply, forcing himself to think. His heart was still hammering against his ribs, but panicking wouldn’t do them any favors. "Alright, let’s break this down logically. We got sucked into Jumanji, which means there’s got to be a way out, right? Games have rules."
"Yeah? And what if the rule is 'you're stuck here forever'?" Peter shot back, his voice pitching high.
"Then we're doomed, and my hair will never recover," Sirius muttered darkly.
A sudden low, rumbling hiss echoed through the jungle, cutting through the tension of the group. It was a sound so deep, so ancient, it seemed to vibrate in the very air around them. The leaves rustled as if a storm was building, and the ground trembled slightly underfoot. The hissing grew louder, coiling through the dense underbrush like a serpent's warning. It was almost as though the jungle itself held its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.
Sirius froze, his entire body going rigid. He slowly turned his head toward the sound, eyes narrowing. "What the hell—" he whispered, his voice suddenly cautious, wary.
The hissing continued, drawing closer. Then, with terrifying clarity, the massive form of the giant snake emerged from the shadows. The jungle seemed to part around it, the leaves and vines wilting in its wake. Its enormous, slitted eyes glinted in the muted light, and its long, sinuous body undulated with an unsettling, serpentine grace. The air itself seemed to thicken with menace.
The group stood frozen, the enormity of the creature impossible to ignore. Every instinct screamed for them to run, but they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the terrifying beast that was slowly advancing toward them.
Peter, despite shaking like a leaf in a tornado, spoke up, his voice surprisingly steady. "That’s a basilisk, also known as the King of Serpents. It’s one of the deadliest and most fascinating creatures in this land. It can grow to enormous sizes and live for centuries. Born from a chicken's egg, hatched under a toad, it has venomous fangs and a deadly stare that kills anyone it meets. Its natural enemy, the spider, flees from it, and the only thing that can drive it away is the crowing of a rooster."
Peter blinked, eyes wide. "How do I know that?"
Before anyone could respond, the basilisk hissed again, its tongue flickering in and out like a deadly promise. The sound cut through the air with an unsettling hiss.
"Sirius, get down!" James shouted, lunging toward him.
Sirius didn’t move fast enough. The basilisk's eyes locked onto him, and in an instant, its powerful tail lashed out, knocking him off his feet. His mouth opened in a scream, but before he could make a sound, the beast’s venomous fangs sank deep into his side.
"Sirius!" James yelled, reaching out, but it was too late.
Sirius’ body went limp, thrown aside like a ragdoll. For a moment, no one could move. No one could breathe. It felt like time had slowed down to a crawl. Peter’s breath hitched, a strangled noise escaping his throat as he stepped back. James couldn’t even look at the body. He couldn’t look at the vacant, lifeless expression on Sirius’ face, his shock frozen in place.
His hands trembled, his heart frozen with a cold, gnawing fear. He had lost his best friend—his brother—in an instant, and he wasn’t sure how to even begin to process that.
Regulus, pale and shaken, dropped to his knees beside his brother’s body. His voice cracked as he whispered, "No... please no..." The words barely left his lips when Sirius’s form erupted into a swirling cloud of dark smoke, vanishing before their eyes.
The basilisk turned its attention to the others, but they couldn’t look away from the empty space where Sirius had been. The air grew heavier, thick with the weight of his sudden loss, and the jungle seemed to close in, its oppressive silence swallowing them whole.
The basilisk snapped its gaze to James, and in the split second before their eyes met, Peter's warning echoed in his mind. James squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding, desperately hoping the creature would move on.
When he finally forced himself to open his eyes, a chill of pure terror seized him—Peter was trapped in the corner, every inch of his body trembling, his eyes squeezed shut in desperation. The basilisk’s gaze was locked onto him, the deadly stare piercing through the air, unwilling to let go. Time seemed to stretch, the world around James blurring as the dreadful realization sank in—Peter was as good as dead.