Three

Before Slughorn’s closing words had even fully left his lips, James was on his feet. He didn’t care for the heads turning as he waded between the initiates, most of them still kneeling.

His steps faltered slightly as he came closer, but he pushed through it. He was just meeting the protagonist for the first time, nothing special.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “I heard you’re a Padawan as well?”

Sirius looked up from beneath the strands of dark hair falling into his face. His eyes were piercing as a shard of ice, yet silver, reminiscent of gathering storm.

James didn’t let it deter him and let his smile grow from a polite tilt of lips to a wide conspiratorial grin. “Could you recommend me a class that doesn’t suck?”

Sirius’ eyelashes fluttered. His face stayed mostly unreadable, but James had the feeling he was taken back.

Of course. He must have thought James came by to make fun of him, same as Crouch and his cronies did. Howling_on_the_cheese made the Padawan arc into a one big whump. It was, however, one thing to read it, and another thing to see it.

Sirius kept looking at him, neck cranked and James quickly realised his mistake. He still remembered the satisfying but chilling plot of Sirius catching Master Slughorn in the novel and repaying him for all the humiliation he received from him.

The protagonist had caught up with Slughorn during the razing of the Temple, easily disarming him. When Slughorn cowardly tried to run, Sirius’ hand shot out, the Force dragging Slughorn back to the floor.

“For every minute you made me kneel while everyone laughed,” Sirius had gritted through his teeth, his eyes blazing yellow in the dark, “for every minute you felt superior as I struggled, I’ll pay you back tenfold today, Master. Try no to fidget.” 

With a cruel smile, he had clenched his hand into a fist and Slughorn screamed.

James quickly crouched down. Making the protagonist kneel before him, even accidentally? Not a good idea. Sirius had yet to hit his latest growth spurt that would make him one of the tallest Jedis in the Temple, so their eyes weren’t level, but James figured it was better than nothing. The slight height difference couldn’t be helped.

He could feel the incredulous looks of everyone on them, the quiet and not-so-quiet whispers rising around, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he smiled again, looking only at Sirius’ frozen face. “I’m James by the way. Minerva’s Padawan.”

A reluctant spark of recognition lightened up in Sirius’ eyes.

“Master Xin hates you,” he finally said.

It was so unexpected that James couldn’t help but laugh. “I assure you it’s mutual.”

A small line formed between Sirius’ brow as his eyes flitted over James’ face, searching for something. Then he scoffed slightly, lip minutely curling up.

“I didn’t think he talked about me that much though,” James continued, shrugging. “It’s nice to know I made such a strong impression.” 

“He said you’re from the Outer Rim.”
Sirius almost looked like he didn't want to say that out loud. 

Calmly, James rested his arms on his knees. “Yeah, born and raised. It’s my first time seeing the Temple today. Well, technically second. What about you? You’ve been here a long time?” 

“Since I was nine,” Sirius answered guardedly, before shifting slightly. He’d been doing that a lot during the lesson too, and James had the growing suspicion it wasn’t just because of boredom. 

He thought back to the novel and all the scenes of Crouch and his friends ganging up on him and remembered how Sirius would hide all his bruises and injuries. An acidic bitter taste spread in his mouth.

Abruptly, he stood up. The motion made Sirius regard him with a complicated look that made James’ heartache. The room was almost empty now, last initiates leaving the door. Did he think the pleasantries were over and James would start kicking him now?

Sirius’ eyes skittered across the small distance between them, as if searching for an attack route.

James felt a strange surge of pride even as the thought hurt. Of course Sirius wouldn’t run. He always fought tooth and nail, no matter how outnumbered he was.

Cheese, James thought darkly, this is all your fault. If I ever get my hands on you-

“Come on,” he said instead of cursing the author out loud as he wanted to, and extended his hand to the other Padawan. “I’m sure your knees must already hurt from all the sitting around. I know mine do.”

When Sirius only stared at him, uncomprehending, James extended his hand further, grinning a teasing smile. “Unless you want to sit on this cold floor for another hour?”

Sirius’ lip twitched with suppressed amusement. “I’m actually growing quite fond of it.”

James chuckled, but didn’t lower his arm. He waited, watching with strangely bated breath as Sirius’ gaze slowly moved towards James’ hand. His eyes were quick, calculating.

Then, between one heartbeat and the next, his warm hand grasped James’. Something about it felt strangely monumental. Grinning, James pulled him up. 

He must have pulled with bigger strength than he meant to, because Sirius inexplicably stumbled slightly forward, bumping into him.

As James steadied him, Sirius’ piercing eyes flitted over his face. There was something strange in his gaze again, the tenseness in his face, the carefully held line of his shoulders. 

James gave him a small smile and stepped back. “Sorry, you’re lighter than you look.”

A confused, almost uncomprehending look passed over Sirius’ face before it was gone, some of the tension leaving.

Suddenly, James wasn’t even sure if he hadn’t imagined it. It almost looked like Sirius wanted him to lash out, but that didn’t make any sense.

“So,” he cleared his throat slightly. 

The sound felt awkwardly loud in the sudden quiet, echoing in between the columns and interrupted only by the gently flowing water. 

James had never really paid attention to how people looked, but the novel had spent countless pages in total detailing how stunning Sirius was. Even though this was still just a baby protagonist, it was true his face was already unfair, better fitted for some game with unrealistic standards than real life. 

Judging by the lack of height, Sirius couldn’t be older than he was, maybe even slightly younger? How did one even sneakily ask something like that?

“You’re Moody’s Padawan, right? Sirius?”

Sirius’ face soured a bit at that. It was subtle, but James was already feeling like he was getting better at reading his expressions. 

Did he think James heard about him only because he was so bad? He must have, right? James suppressed the urge to face palm. So much for making a good first impression.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Sirius answered after a loaded pause, looking to the side. 

As he moved, the Padawan braid became finally visible, bound together with the rest of his hair at the back of his neck. James was glad Sirius hadn’t called his bluff earlier. If he hadn’t known from the novel, he would never have guessed that the dark hair hid a braid, not at the distance they were before.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not the only Padawan in this lesson,” James said, trying to rally. “But I was actually serious before. Please tell me there’re better lessons than this one.”

Sirius glanced back at him. He looked almost surprised James still wanted to talk to him.

Another reason why your novel was a pile of Sith spit, Cheese, James thought darkly. How could anyone look at Sirius and not want to be his friend, huh? Make it make sense.

“Depends.”

Sirius pulled his eyes away, turning to leave. James quickly fell into step behind him, which earned him another subtle side look.

“On what?”

“How good you’re with the saber.”

James felt a grin stretch across his lips. “How about we find out, then? Want to duel?”

Sirius scoffed slightly. “You don’t even know if I’m any good.”

That wasn’t a no, James realised, slight warmth spreading in his chest. 

He gave an innocent shrug and resisted the urge to nudge him. It was far too early for that. “I have a feeling.”

Though it looked like Sirius wanted to protest against James following him to the next lesson, he didn’t say anything. James counted that a win.

As they entered the full training courtyard, Sirius suddenly stopped mid-step. 

The motion was so unexpected that James almost crashed into his back, stopping only with a combination of luck and Force-aided reflexes.

Sirius’ shoulders in front of him were hunched slightly, and James took a confused step closer, noting his shaking, balled-up fists.

“Hey,” he said quietly, painfully keeping distance. He doubted Sirius would appreciate someone getting in his face right now, especially someone he hardly knew. “Sirius, are you okay?”

Sirius refused to look at him, his jaw clenched, the rest of his expression hidden by the loose strands falling into his face. Belatedly, James realised the people around were whispering.

“—drag down—”

“—think he pressured him to—”

“—first time I’m seeing anyone be voluntarily in his company—”

“—Crouch will be—”

“—afraid, he’s so volatile in combat—”

“—should we warn—”

Anger and irritation coiled in James’ gut, bright and burning. He exhaled deeply into the Force,  then swirled around. A wide, sarcastic smile spread over his lips, the edges of it sharp and dangerous as he raised his voice. 

“Oh wow, Sirius, you didn’t tell me this was the place where Jedi learned to gossip. I would think that was against our Code and basic decency, but you truly learn new things every day in this Temple.”

The shocked looks on the faces around him were down-right hilarious. James wished he could capture it forever, maybe frame it someplace nice.

He reached out to Sirius, unable to help it, but Sirius roughly shook his hand off from his shoulder.

A pang of pain echoed in James’ ribs, and he inwardly cursed at himself. Hadn’t he just told himself touching Sirius wasn’t a good idea?

He was about to apologise when a loud murmur ran through the crowd, gaining intensity. 

The initiates parted on the side, a figure coming forward. James recognised him immediately, though he wished he hadn’t. Pale, blue-tinted skin of Umbarans, short black hair and a faint scar over an insincere smile that all but screamed entitlement.

The guy sautering over couldn’t be anyone else but Bartemius Crouch Junior. 

A stupid name for even stupider person. Howling on the Cheese clearly liked it enough to go against the traditional naming conventions of Crouch’s homeplanet. That was one of the first inconsistencies in the original novel, James should have known it would only go downhill from there.

Crouch was walking in front of three of his goons. He hardly went anywhere in the novel without them, especially when Sirius was concerned. Crouch didn’t like loosing, and outnumbering the protagonist was the only sure way to win. 

The one furthest to the left, Setzul, was a red-faced Zabrak with six horns protruding from around his ears. Next to him was Avery — a plain looking human with a prominent nose and sadistic eyes. The triangle was closed by Rosier, a Mirialan with green skin and dark geometrical tattoos on his forehead.

He was the only one without a Padawan braid, yet he looked smug enough to be a Master. There was already a smirk on his face, as if knowing what was coming and liking it. 

They all looked even more annoying than the novel had described.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Crouch said lazily as they came to a stop before them. He crossed his arms, clearly taking his time before his lips moved into a condescending smile. “You might not know yet, but we don’t really associate with… him.” 

He gestured towards Sirius, reluctant and disgusted, as if he didn’t want to even dirty his hand by waving it in the same direction. Whatever hatred James felt towards him when reading the novel instantly doubled, flaring to life with staggering intensity.

Crouch was the one responsible for everyone ostracising Sirius in the Temple. The most enthusiastic supporter of Master Xin’s harsh words and Knight Malfoy’s punishments, an ever-present shadow during Sirius’ Padawan years.

He was also the one who had his fingers in ambushing Sirius whenever he got bored. No matter how many times Sirius fought them, no matter how many times he won, there was always more of them.

Besides the pain and humiliation, hiding the scrapes and bruises had led to Sirius not getting enough sleep and dozing off in classes. Numerous teachers had kicked him out of their lessons for not paying attention, or for 'outbursts of emotions' when he tried to fight back.

 When Moody inevitably heard about his misbehaving Padawan, his opinion of Sirius clouded further. And Mustafar became that much closer.

James forced himself to stop squeezing his hands into firsts. It was harder than it should have been. He took a step forward, until he was back to standing next to Sirius, just in case the bastard tried anything.

“Why should I care?”

“Why should you care?” Crouch repeated, then let out a short derisive laugh, Setzul and Avery immediately grinning. “This beast here, is a sorry excuse of a Jedi, and everyone knows it. Even his Master barely wants to have anything to do with him.”  

He shot Sirius a look full of disdain, as if he was nothing but a particularly annoying and disgusting bug beneath his feet. A few of the people standing around laughed.

“Isn’t that right, Black? Why don’t you tell your new friend how it really is?”

“Fuck off, Crouch,” Sirius sneered. If his eyes were guarded before, now came the order to fire. The silver screamed of blazing tempest, intense and fierce like the dangerous warmth of a lit lightsaber.

Crouch didn’t seem to like that. He was never one who liked being opposed or talked back to. His father was an important senator, so James guessed he inherited some of that instilled self-importance about how he was better than everyone else.

“Just wait…” Crouch threatened darkly, or as much as he could with everyone watching. Somewhere along the line, he’d stopped smiling.

“Why?” Sirius bit back, grinning sharply. “Let’s have it right here.” 

James cracked his neck slightly, then rolled his shoulders. “Agreed. Bring it on.”

Next to him, Sirius stilled. Crouch’s face went through a complicated mess of emotions before settling on incredulity. Avery behind him even dropped his ever-present sly smirk. The courtyard suddenly felt entirely too quiet.

“What?” James drawled, lifting his brows. “Can you only fight four on one?”

Crouch fumed. It was almost funny. He endlessly mocked Sirius for failing to hold in his emotions but did the exact same thing, every time. “Shut up, you know nothing about me. You were digging through sand a week ago!”

“So you do know who I am,” James said, smirking as he took another step closer. Crouch blinked, clearly not expecting him to voluntarily cross the invisible line between them. “I suppose Master Xin’s glowing recommendation precedes me?”

“He said you forgot everything,” Crouch said, clearly aiming for his previous haughtiness as he repeated his Master’s words. “That you’ve had to re-learn every form from scratch, back to your peasant roots.” 

He shook his head. “It’s no wonder you found the beast so quickly. With your terrible skills now, you’re pretty identical, aren’t you? Both lost cases… On what waste of a planet did your Master even find someone like you? Or was she getting so bored in the Rim that she wanted to buy herself some cheap entertainment—”

Sirius’ fist connected with his face with a loud crunch. 

It was so quick James had barely seen him move. One moment Crouch was still talking, looking more and more pleased with himself, and the next there was a cloud of dust and he was wailing on the ground, clutching his nose. 

The sight felt a little too satisfying.

“Get him,” Crouch howled, his fingers turning bloody. The three followers jumped forward. They were aiming to surround Sirius, but James moved quickly, tackling Setzul to the ground. They rolled around, another large cloud of dust rising from the ground.

Rosier moved to hit Sirius in the back, taking advantage of his focus on Avery, but James moved his arm, tugging Rosier's feet from under him with the Force.

Setzul used this as an opportunity to elbow him in the face. A fresh pain bloomed in his cheek as James caught his other arm from connecting again. Setzul growled. 

Meanwhile, Rosier was already back on his feet, Sirius stepping to the side to evade his fist. Avery was right there the next second, aiming for his leg.

James tried to get up, but Setzul didn’t let him, throwing another attack. James caught his fist in his own and pulled his other arm up for a punch—

“What is this?” came a loud,outraged voice. “Separate, now!”

Everyone startled. Another whisper ran through the crowd around them as strong footsteps echoed through the courtyard.

Eyes narrowed at his opponent, Sirius slowly lowered his fists, Avery and Rosier reluctantly doing the same. Crouch stopped his wailing with a staggering speed. 

Knight Li-san came into view, his blue face full of indignation and disappointment. His red eyes flashed to the side. “Now, Padawan!”

James stood up from where he was kneeling over Setzul, glaring. His body hurt from where the Zabrak managed to get a few hits, but Setzul was looking worse, a clear split in his lip.

“Can anyone explain why you’re rolling on the ground like some thieves instead of acting like the Jedi you are?” Li-san asked, his voice ice cold.

No one spoke. Even Crouch wisely kept his tongue behind his lips. 

“Good, I don’t want to hear it. You will explain yourselves to your Masters, because you can be assured they will hear about it.” His dark red eyes moved between each of them. They snagged slightly on James, before moving to Sirius. Something almost like consideration flashed through them before it was gone. “Now move back to your places while you still have the chance. I won’t have my class disrupted further.”

They scrambled to do as he said, James firmly putting himself in between Sirius and the rest of Crouch’s squad.

“And you.” The Knight turned his head to the rest of the initiates and Padawans crowded around, his long braid swishing through the air.

“Every one of you is as much at fault as the four of them. You watched, yet did nothing to help. If that is the type of Jedi you want to be, the door is that way.” He sharply pointed to the left.

No one moved, save for the few initiates who turned their gazes towards the ground, chastised.

“And I hope I don’t need to remind you that being Padawan doesn’t mean anything. There’s no guarantee you’ll be knighted, so act like it.”

An acidic taste spread on the back of James’ throat. He was right. If Minerva suddenly decided to drop him, decided that he was more trouble than he was worth, there was nothing he could do. He’d still be an initiate, but there wasn’t any sane Master who would take on a Padawan that someone had already deemed unworthy. 

Still, he couldn’t have just stood by and did nothing. If Sirius didn’t throw the first punch, Crouch would do it after class. There was no way he’d let the whole thing go. It was only unfortunate so many people were watching.

James glanced at Sirius next to him, noting the bloody scratch on his cheek. Yes, he was sure. He’d do the whole thing again in the heartbeat. The consequences, whatever they would be, were unimportant. James wasn’t about to act like some useless NPC just to save his own skin. He needed to believe Jedi were better than that, that he was better than that.

When he looked up, he realised Li-san was watching him. It was too late to school his expression, so James didn’t bother, but Li-san didn’t comment on it. 

Instead he pulled aside his robe, brandishing his lightsaber. When he spoke, it was to the whole class. “Now light your weapons. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Knight Li-san Sinax didn’t go easy on them in the slightest. By the time James passed through the door to his shared quarters with Minerva, his whole body was aching. After a short rest and lunch in the refectory, they had been back to drilling stances, holding each of them for so long their arms and legs trembled. By the end of the practice, even Crouch was too tired to do more than just throw angry glances at him. 

R7 happily beeped as James walked into the living room, whirling around him.

James smiled slightly. “Good to see you too, R7.” 

He had no idea what the droid was actually saying, but he figured it had to be close.

“Master,” he said then, voice reproachful as he noticed her still figure by the kettle.

For a long moment, she was quiet. James stood still as she waited for the water to boil before slowly pouring into a black mug. By the time she finally turned around, James could hear his heart beating wildly in his ears. Was this it? Was she already throwing him out?

“Unchecked emotions are dangerous things, Padawan,” she said, bringing the mug to her lips. The steam rising through it all but obscured her eyes as she took a sip. 

The moment before that sentence and her next felt impossibly long. James’ legs trembled with exhaustion, but he refused to sit down.

Finally, she set the mug down and turned her gaze to him.

“Anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. I’m aware you know that, but I need you to understand it. You must control yourself.” A frown appeared between her brows, her voice growing heavier. “Acting solely on your emotions is too dangerous, a slippery road to a path that leads only one way. And I won’t have you walk it.”

James swallowed, throat tight. “It's not my intention to ever step on that path, Master.”

Minerva regarded him for a long moment, then nodded. Her hand moved to grab the handle of her cup again. “Good. You will mediate over the matter before sleep. Now go wash yourself in the fresher, even the droid can smell you.”

R7 beeped in what had to be treacherous agreement.

James lowered his head, but there was a faint trace of a smile on his lips. “Yes, Master.”