CHAPTER I

James felt it, more than he saw it. 

He twisted his broom and threw his weight to the side, his vision swimming as he turned upside down. Above him, the Bludger swooshed past the place his head would have been just a moment ago. 

Sirius breezed past him on his broom, bat in his hand and a wide shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Almost got you, huh?”

James made a show of scoffing as he pulled himself up again. “Not by a long shot. You’ve got to try harder than that.”

“I’ll get you next time!” he shouted as he swung and sent the Bludger flying again. On the other side of the pitch, one of the team’s Chasers, Quinn Dragenton, yelped as the ball hit her to the side.

James couldn’t help but wince a little even though this whole thing had been his idea. He had no doubt the whole team was going to be sore after this, not unlike a vampire after a two-hundred-year-long nap. 

With one last glance at her to make sure she stayed on her broom, James shifted his weight and let himself fall forward. Air whooshed past his ears, his Quidditch robe billowing behind him like the red tail of a comet. He slowed down closer to the ground, catching the Quaffle that the other Dragenton twin, Flinn, passed him.

The weight of it in his hand was more than familiar. James flew in closer to the hoops, evading the defence. With one hand, he abruptly slowed his broom to a stop, his eyes firmly on the goals, calculating the throw before he tossed the Quaffle in his hand a little, then sent it flying towards the left hoop. 

The team’s goalkeeper lunged for it, but she was too slow. The ball flew through, and her following curse echoed loudly around the pitch, the sound making James grin. 

“I told you I’m the best shooter,” he tossed over his shoulder, leaning back on his broom.  

“No way!” Quinn flew in, stopping a little above him. “Let’s go one more and I’ll—”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, sis,” her brother called out as he flew under them, the sudden wind ruffling their clothes.

Quinn fumed and James laughed, opening his mouth to join in on the teasing when Lucas Alvarez screamed, “Incoming!” 

James ducked out of the way on instinct, the Bludger speeding past him and straight into the escaping Flinn, hitting him with a dull thud right in the shoulder.

All the players winced in sympathy while Flinn gave a quiet whimper, clutching at his arm. “I hate this exercise.” 

“Sorry!” Sirius called from above as he chased after the ball. “James said to play like we mean it.” 

“What was that?” James called out. “Can’t hear you over the sound of our side winning,” 

“Oh, you’re going down,” Sirius promised, and even from a distance, James knew there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The sun above them was hot, warming the back of his neck. 

Three brooms swished past him, pulling his gaze away and making him shift his weight on his broom to intercept them. The game continued. 

“Alright,” James called out, hand in the air to signal the players that were further away. “That’s enough for today!” 

He hovered in the air for a little bit longer then angled his broom towards the ground. He was purposely going just a tad slower than he normally would, fully savouring the feeling of flying after two long months of Quidditch-less holidays. 

With one last look towards the sky, he let his feet touch down on the green grass of the pitch. When he glanced around, it came as no surprise that most of the team was already on the ground as well, forming a semi-circle around him.

James waited until there were no more brooms up in the air before addressing them, gaze moving across the expectant faces around him, many of them still flushed from the last round of drills.

“Good game, everyone,” he said, giving them an approving nod. “We’ll go over the specifics of what to improve tomorrow, so get a good rest tonight.”

A chorus of affirmative noises rose around him before the team slowly started to disperse, though one figure remained fixed, their eyes easily catching James’.

“Well, Prongs,” Sirius started, his gaze firmly on James even as their teammates walked through the space between them. “What did you think?” 

“I think” — James felt his lips pulling into a smile at the expectant look on Sirius’ face — “that we have a new Beater.” 

Sirius’ eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”

“ Literally .” James nodded, grin widening when Sirius chuckled at the pun. “You were a great Seeker, but I think this position suits you much better. I should have realised it sooner—” 

Sirius swatted the last sentence away with a quick motion of his hand. “Don’t sweat it. Can you even imagine my scrawny second-year ass hitting something with a bat? It would have been me flying away from the impact, not the Bludger.” 

James laughed. “Is it bad I suddenly have the urge to pay all my galleons to see that?”

“Incredibly.”

“A shame.”

Sirius gave a solemn nod. “The highest.” 

They looked at each other, then burst out laughing. 

From the corner of his eye, James registered a blur of yellow approaching the pitch. He turned his head to the side, Sirius following his gaze as James squinted at the figures.

“Hufflepuff’s team,” he confirmed James’ thoughts. “They must have swapped their spot with Slytherin.” 

James frowned a little. “Looks like only half the team...” 

Sirius gave a quiet hum, seemingly losing interest and shifting his focus back to James. “Maybe they’re running late?” he remarked idly, playing with the bat still in his hands.

Possible, but not likely , James thought. If there was one thing Hufflepuff’s team was known  for, it was their punctuality.

He shook the weird feeling off and jerked his head towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they moved toward the broom shed, the Hufflepuffs scattered on the pitch, some already bringing out their brooms and taking off while others lingered on the ground, chatting.

Though there were some new members, many of the faces were familiar. Sirius and James exchanged nods with a few of them, and James waved at Frank Longbottom, the team’s goalkeeper and captain. As the rest of the team moved around them, Frank’s eyes lit up with recognition, a wide friendly smile spreading across his face as he said something to one of his teammates and then jogged over to them. 

“James! Sirius!” He beamed as he slowed down in front of them. “It’s nice to see you here. How was your break?”

It had only been two days since the start of the school year, and with Frank being a year younger than them, they hadn’t been able to catch up yet — time split between the starting classes and organising the Quidditch tryouts, as well as figuring out the training schedules with the teachers. 

Flitwick had said he wanted his team to train in the afternoon, breaking the agreement from last year that Ravenclaws would take most of the morning slots. From then on, it was every House for itself. Flitwick had kept insisting that none of his current players were early risers, and James kind of wanted to shake him and ask if he thought that Gryffindors of all people went to bed at proper times.

“Pretty eventful.” James smirked, pushing the memories of the last two days away. “We might have accidentally flooded our local wizarding sweets shop with cotton candy.”

Frank chuckled, shaking his head a little. “With you two, I’d believe it was anything but an accident.” 

Sirius grinned, the smile unrestrained and a little pleased. “You know it.” 

James watched as he leaned against the handle of his broom, swaying slightly to the side. “What about you?”

“Ah, you know, same old. It was good to take a break, but I’m happy to be here again.”

The two Gryffindors nodded in understanding, both feeling the same. As much as James enjoyed spending the summer break with his parents, coming back to Hogwarts was like coming home. There was no place like it. 

James let his eyes slide over the players warming up on the pitch behind Sirius’ shoulder. “Where’s the rest of your team?” 

He didn’t see most of their older players, both sixth year and seventh, now that he was thinking about it. Being a fifth year, Frank was the oldest member among the present Hufflepuffs.

Frank gave them a sheepish smile, his yellow jersey rustling as he scratched at his shoulder. “Professor Sprout asked them to stay for the beginning of the dinner. Dumbledore has some big speech planned or something, an announcement. They should come in later.” 

With how Dumbledore’s speeches had gone in the past, they all knew it would take at least an hour. For some reason, the Headmaster seemed to indulge in making his speeches as drawn out as possible, only starting them when the students started to get restless. 

Of course, that wasn’t a problem at the beginning of the year, when there was not much else to do besides sitting at the Welcoming Feast and stuffing their stomachs full, but whenever he had an announcement during the rest of the school year, it was a different story. 

Sirius frowned and James couldn't help but wince a little in sympathy. If Dumbledore insisted on doing things his way, the team would lose half their training time. 

“You could have told me,” he said regretfully. “We could have moved our spot up, given you guys more time.” 

Frank shook his head, his short black hair moving in the slight wind. “I didn’t know until a few minutes ago. Thank you though, really.” 

James sighed a little. “Alright. We’ll leave you guys to train. Good luck.” 

“Yeah.” Frank seemed to shake off his sad mood, his smile returning as he raised his fist upwards. “We’ll train hard to crush you guys in our next match!” 

Sirius smirked, rolling his eyes with a huff of breath. 

James grinned. “That’s why you’ll need the luck.” 

The grounds on their way to the castle were deserted, but it wasn’t that strange of a look to James. He was used to sneaking out with his friends under his invisibility cloak or hiding behind rocks from Filch’s cat, and he had grown quite used to seeing the road to the castle like this. Granted, it was usually much later in the night when it was empty like this, but still. All the sneaking and late Quidditch practices had made him almost immune to the sight. The key word being ‘almost.’  

Even as familiar as the sight was, something about seeing the grounds so empty during the day rubbed him the wrong way.

Above them, the sun had barely begun to move down behind the distant hills.

It was still early in the fall, the days used to the stretch they’d had over the summer and only slowly giving away their hours to the night. The air was still warm, the sun shining over the lush, green field sloping down towards the Wooden Bridge.

The wooden planks beneath their feet creaked slightly as they made their way across. 

“What do you think Dumbles wants to talk about?” Sirius asked as they both slowed down at the centre of the bridge. James was pretty sure they both did it on instinct, so used to coming over here to talk. 

Even now, with muscles aching from practice and stomachs squeezing with hunger, their eyes strayed away from the path before them and instead turned to the side, looking beyond the wooden beams. The sight of golden rays hitting the treetops below them was as familiar as it was beautiful.

“Not sure,” James admitted after a moment. “He didn’t have anything new to say at the Welcoming Feast.”

A quick glance at Sirius’ face made it clear he’d come to the same conclusion as him and wasn’t pleased. There was a small frown on his face, the storm grey of his eyes clouded. 

“So something must have changed,” he said, and James nodded, the air in his lungs suddenly feeling heavier than before.

“Something must have changed.” 

When they made it to the Great Hall, the dinner was in full swing. The hall was much fuller than usual at this time of the day. Typically, students came for dinner at any time between six and eight, and as a result, the hall was never quite as full as during the Welcoming Feast, when all the school had to squeeze onto the benches and stay for the whole duration. Not to mention the hall tended to be full even after, many staying behind to catch up about the summer holidays over the leftover desserts. 

The weekday dinners were still busy and full of students, especially around six, the tables filled with black robes and accents of green, red, yellow and blue. However, it wasn’t uncommon for whole groups of students to come in later either, stumbling through the door after they’d finished their Quidditch practices or other urgent matters, like falling asleep over their homeworks.

Today, the hall resembled the hall on the night of the Great Feast, most tables full to the brim, though James noticed the vacant space where part of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team should be sitting.

With a few unlucky kids already in the infirmary, a few first years who probably got lost on the way here and a few students who probably forgot about the dinner altogether, the hall was as full as it could be.

If Dumbledore wanted an audience for his speech, he surely got it. 

Word about the announcement must have gotten out, or maybe James had missed the Head teachers alerting the students while he was on the field — perhaps both, seeing as how the hall was buzzing with questions and excitement. James caught a few of the third-year Ravenclaw students whispering to each other, pointing at the Headmaster. 

“Hey, James, Sirius,” greeted Gideon Prewett as they walked past him, and James let himself be pulled into a discussion about the fastest broom with both the Prewett brothers and the one-year-younger Dirk Cresswell before Sirius had to forcibly pull him away. 

“Sorry, boys!” Sirius called over his shoulder. “Would love to chat, but I’m starving, and if I leave James here, he’ll spend the whole dinner talking about brooms and forget to eat.” 

The trio laughed, promising to finish the discussion another time. James only sighed, resigned to his fate, and let himself be pulled towards their usual seat at the back of the Gryffindor table.

Remus and Peter were both already there, the latter piling his plate with fried duck. James slid next to Peter on the bench, greeting his friends as Sirius jumped over the end of the table and sat across him, next to Remus. 

The students sitting next to them barely raised an eyebrow, more than used to various antics from the Marauders’ end of the table. Some of the younger years at their table and the tables around, however, sneaked glances at them with fascination and wide mouths. 

James had learned over the years that the Marauders were a bit of living folk legends for some of the new kids, something he still didn’t quite understand. He didn’t know what they’d done to earn all these wide eyes and worshipping looks, but he tried to not think about it too much. 

It was easier to pretend it was expected, an answer to their greatness that he so often proclaimed they had. Of course, not everyone was a fan, not by a long shot. He just knew that somewhere to his right Lily Evans was rolling her eyes and she wasn't the only one. 

There were students who would rather swallow a double dose of Skele-Gro than say anything good about them. And that wasn’t counting the gang of Slytherin students that was hostile to everyone, especially to Muggle-borns. 

James’ eyes trailed over their ranks, noticing the ruffled hair of Barty Crouch Junior as he laughed with his minions. More than half of last year’s fights and curses were on him and his need to act like a colossal asshole. 

“We thought you would miss it,” Remus proclaimed, pulling James’ thoughts away from silently cursing certain Slytherins in his mind. “McGonagall said Dumbledore has some important news for everyone.” 

So that answered the question of how everyone learned of it.

“Did she say what it was?” James asked, exchanging a look with Sirius. 

Peter shrugged. “No. Just that it was important and everyone from fifth year up should hear it. Naturally that meant everyone else wanted to be here too.” 

Sirius shook his head, scooping some of the baked potatoes onto his plate. “Nosy fuckers.”

“You would want to know too,” Remus remarked, stabbing a piece of sausage with his fork. 

“Yeah, because Dumbles is crazy.” 

Peter panicked, leaning forward so quickly he almost flipped over his plate. “Shh! He’s gonna hear you.” 

Sirius’ face remained passive. “And?” 

James chuckled at the way Peter’s eyes seemed to almost bulge out of his skull. 

“I think even Dumbles knows he’s crazy, Pete,” he said, finally digging into his own meal. 

Peter, feeling highly betrayed, looked over to Remus, who gave an apologetic shrug.

“I kind of think they’re right, mate.” 

“What? You too, Moony?”

“I mean,” James started, gesturing with his fork in a wide arc, “his idea for Remus’ furry little problem was a killing tree over the entrance to the shack. A killing tree! That’s certainly a level of crazy.” Like, the hundredth level or so, if James had to be completely honest. Dumbledore was without a doubt a powerful wizard, but that changed nothing about the fact that something definitely wasn’t right in his head.

“True…” Remus nodded solemnly.

James gestured over to him as if to say ‘see?’ and Peter deflated in defeat.

“Well, when you put it like that…” 

“Anyway, speaking of Dumbles,” James said, lowering his voice a little, “we should give that gargoyle statue in front of his office some new clothes.” 

Remus’ eyes sparkled with mischief and Sirius’ lips pulled into a smirk. “What did you have in mind?” 

James set down his cutlery, leaning slightly over the table. The others leaned in as well, conspiratorial smirks slowly blooming on their faces.

“I’ve been thinking about a nice wool hat.”

“A pair of gloves as well, I hope; it gets cold in the castle,” Remus added. 

Sirius gave a quiet snicker. “I’m in. I think baby blue would go really well with his eyes.”  

“He literally has no eyes,” James stated.

“I know.” Sirius leaned back in his seat, sending James a self-assured smile. “Nothing spells baby blue more than a pair of soulless holes in stone where eyes should be, don’t you think?” 

That startled a laugh out of James for which Sirius got a light kick in the leg under the table. Even so, Sirius looked highly pleased with himself. 

“But how will we do it?” Peter asked. “I don’t know any spells that make clothes.” 

“Oh, come on, Pete.” Remus rolled his eyes. “We could try the one we used to make the centaurs near James’ home scarves.” 

He looked over to James, shaking his head in disbelief. “ I still don’t get why they wanted those, by the way; I thought it was a prank you two came up with.” 

James shrugged, though his ears burned slightly. “They get cold in autumn.” 

“James is too warm-hearted,” Sirius said, his grin turning into something softer as their eyes met. James felt the heat spread across his neck. Silently he prayed that it was at least not too visible. “He noticed some of them complaining about the cold coming soon and offered to get them clothes. I’ve never seen the centaurs look more surprised.” 

Remus laughed a little. “Yeah, that I can believe. They looked ready to adopt you when we brought it to them.” 

Sirius laughed as well, his eyes warm as they stayed on James’ face. 

“Yeah, well, so—” James fumbled with his words. “Anyway, we can use that. Just tweak it a little. Should be easy, I think.” 

“Ah... I don’t, really, well, remember that one.” Peter chuckled nervously, moving some of the meat on his plate from side to side with his fork. 

James almost felt as if the temperature in the Great Hall suddenly dropped down a few degrees. Across the table, Remus froze as well, as if remembering something important. 

“Well, you would know it if you’d been there,” Sirius snarked, any trace of the previous softness gone from his eyes. 

James found Remus’ eyes, an unspoken question passing between them. Slowly, James gave a miniscule shake of his head. 

On the other side of the table, Peter frowned, his shoulders hunching, eyes downcast. There was an unhappy tilt to his lips, but he didn't try to defend himself. Or maybe he didn’t have anything to defend himself with. 

“Everyone’s been busy this summer,” James said in his best placating voice, and when Sirius refused to meet his eyes, shoulders still up and tense, he moved his hand to rest at his forearm. 

He wished, absently, that Sirius were sitting next to him instead. The table, wide and laden with a variety of food, was now an obstacle. James wanted to rest his arm at the back of Sirius’ neck, wanted to pull him closer, to clear that look off his face. 

‘It’s alright, I get it,’ he wanted to say, but even as the tension in Sirius’ shoulders slightly relaxed at his touch, it didn't completely disappear, and he knew now wasn't the right time.

“We’ll have lots of opportunities to make up for it now,” he said instead and Sirius huffed, turning his head away. 

James let his hand fall down on the table. Truth was, he had been hurt by Peter’s sudden silence as well. They’d always met up over the holidays, at least a couple of times. Yet this summer, Peter had responded to their letters less and less until the day the owl hadn’t come at all. 

It had taken a month and half for Peter to finally answer again. With only a flimsy apology, even flimsier excuses and more silence. 

The first time they had properly talked after two months had been on the train.

Remus had been disappointed — that much had been clear — but he’d shaken it off fairly quickly. “Peter must have his reasons,” he had said. “It’s his choice.”

But Sirius always took these things personally, even more so than James. To him, the Marauders were his only family. James understood that, held that belief close to his heart, treated it with the reverence he believed it deserved. 

Something inside him still felt bruised too, bitter even, but he didn’t want to fight, didn’t want them to fight. He knew it would hurt them all.

“Prongs is right,” Remus rushed to his help. “I, for one, am glad to freak out some first years with stories about the Shrieking Shack again.” 

James smiled at him in barely hidden relief. “You’re a menace, Moony.”

The responding smile on Remus’ face was pleased.

“Thank you, James. But I must admit it was not all my doing. I learned from the best, after all.”

“Careful, Reme, that almost sounds like a compliment.” 

He glanced at Sirius, who was still facing away, shoulders drawn up. Peter still looked like he wished he could be a moke and shrink at will. That or he was doing his best impression of an ostrich.  

“Merely stating the facts, Prongs,” Remus continued. ”You two are the school’s main menaces. Your fate as delinquents was sealed long ago.” 

James lifted an eyebrow at him, and Remus spread his hands in a wide gesture. “First day of first year? When you and Sirius fell into the Great Lake?” 

“That one was an accident!” 

Unlike the second time they fell in there. That one had been premeditated, planned. Badly, but it had. 

“Hagrid told you not to lean out of the boat.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have told us about the merfolk! Of course I wanted to see.”

“I think he even told you twice—”

“But the point was,” James spoke over him, “that you learned from us, right?”

Remus nodded, trying to contain his smile. “Right.”

James huffed out a breath. “I don’t believe that for a second, Monsieur Moony. But it’s true you should continue to learn from me. I do too.”

“What?” Peter piped up. “How can you learn from yourself?” 

“Oh, you know, sometimes I coach myself in the mirror. It’s startlingly effective.” 

Sirius startled out a laugh and Remus chuckled, shaking his head. Even Peter finally smiled again, though there was still some uneasiness in the way his lips curled around his smile.

Crisis averted, James thought with a relieved mental sigh. For now, at least.

It was some time later, as he was fighting Sirius over the last piece of pineapple and trying to threaten him with a fork, when the announcement happened. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat, then spread his hands in the air. The hall went quiet and the Headmaster’s lips spread into a smile under the shadow of his large white beard.

“Welcome, welcome,” he started, his loud, clear voice easily carrying to all the corners of the Great Hall. “You must all be wondering why I called you in today, only a few days after the Sorting Ceremony.”

He let his gaze sweep across the students, taking his time to continue.

“Truth be told, this is something that I had in mind for quite some time. The bond between the three wizarding schools has been growing weak, neglected for decades as each school focused only on their own inner worlds. But today is the day when we will change that. Time has come to revive the ties that bind us together. To strengthen them.”

“Therefore,” he paused deliberately, eyes once again moving across the quiet hall. There was a glint in his eyes, and James couldn’t help but think he was enjoying making them wait, making this as theatrical as possible. 

Dumbledore spread his hands once more. “We have decided to renew the Triwizard Tournament!” 

From behind him, two bright yellow lights emerged, rising towards the sky-like ceiling of the hall before erupting into hundreds of little fireworks. 

What did he just say? James thought a little dazedly, even as most of the students in the hall erupted into surprised exclamations. He exchanged a wide-eyed look with his friends, noting the sudden paleness of Peter’s skin and Remus’ raised eyebrows.

“Is he for real?” he asked finally, voice a hushed whisper.

Sirius shrugged, looking equally stunned. Whatever they had guessed would be announced, this wasn’t even on the list. 

Dumbledore brought his hands up to silence the hall again, and James used the lull in his speech to look at the teachers behind him. Professor Flitwick looked undisturbed, swirling a spoon in his soup as he quietly talked to Professor McGonagall, who didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him.

The expression on her face was grave, lips pulled into a thin, straight line. James could feel that disapproving gaze from where he was seated, and it wasn’t even directed at him. Dumbledore didn’t seem to notice, or rather, he ignored it. James kind of guessed he was used to it. 

As soon as the students settled down enough, Dumbledore moved on to explain the rules for entering the competition, which resulted in groans of disappointment from those younger than sixth year when they realised they were forbidden from competing. 

“We’re well aware of the possible dangers of entering the competition,” he continued calmly. “And though I believe you are all daring enough to enter even so, we have worked hard with the Ministry to figure out a way to make this exciting tournament as safe as it can be. For that reason, we’ve decided to slightly alter the rules. Each school will send two champions to compete together as a unit!” 

The students cheered loudly, clapping as Dumbledore moved towards his chair, wearing a satisfied smile. 

Peter was still whiter than rice pudding, but Remus and Sirius slowly got talking about the Tournament and the possible quests it will entail. Watching them, James let his thoughts run.

As dangerous as the tournament was, it was a chance that happened once in a lifetime. Winning would finally prove that he had actual skills to back all that talk up, that he could go against the best young wizards of their age and still come out on top. 

“James?” Sirius questioned, waving his hand in front of his eyes. 

James startled a little. “Yeah?” 

“Are you going to enter?” 

And even if James wasn’t entirely sure it was a good decision, he had always been competitive, always with something to prove. Passing the Triwizard Tournament? That would be crazy. 

Besides, there was only one thing James Potter, the self-proclaimed best shooter of his Quidditch team and one of the best Defence Against the Dark Arts spell casters, could really say, especially when Sirius was looking at him like this. 

“Are you kidding?” he asked, lips pulling into a confident smirk. “Of course I am.” 

Sirius nodded and James felt a sudden shiver run up his spine. 

“You too, right?” he asked, because he couldn’t imagine competing without Sirius at his side. The image looked absurd, wrong. Just thinking about it made him feel uneasy. 

"Obviously," Sirius told him, scoffing a little as if any other idea was unacceptable, his grey eyes shining with determination. 

James felt his lips pull into a smile, his body buzzing with anticipation and adrenaline. 

The next morning, he threw his name into the icy-blue flames of the cup.