CHAPTER II

The fire crackled, bright blue flames erupting towards the ceiling before settling down again. 

The students surrounding the goblet clapped and whooped, but Sirius, who had just thrown his name into the fire barely seconds after James, paid them no mind. 

Instead he raised his fist, lips pulled into a confident smirk as he met James’ eyes. Trying to ignore the strange hotness he suddenly felt on the back of his neck, James gave a quiet chuckle, then moved to knock his knuckles against Sirius’.

Together, they moved away from the dense circle surrounding the goblet, leaving the cheers and curious looks behind them. James was sure the interest in the potential champions would wane with time, but the goblet had only been in place for a few hours and everyone’s eyes were on it. 

Even the students that were pretending not to hear what was  going on by the entrance to the Great Hall were sneaking not-so-subtle glances whenever the fire erupted again, trying to catch a glimpse of the person who had just tossed their name inside. Some of the students took it a step further, and simply crowded around the goblets’s Age Line — an enchanted circle made by Dumbledore himself that would not allow anyone younger than sixth year to cross it and enter the tournament.

James dropped down into his seat, his tired muscles screaming in protest, worn down from yesterday’s Quidditch practice. If he was being honest, James had missed the feeling. 

He looked up at his friends on the other side of the table as Sirius slid onto the bench next to him. Remus was writing something into his book on Transfiguration, half-eaten toast with jam in his other hand. Next to him, Peter was looking over his shoulder and copying the same words onto a slightly crumpled scroll. His hands were already smudged with ink, some of it looking older, which was not an unfamiliar sight. 

He had always been a messy writer, to the displeasure of both Sirius, who refused to let him anywhere close to his schoolwork with that kind of hands, and Professor McGonagall, who had a barely concealed look of judgement in her eyes whenever Peter turned in his essays, the sides of them smudged with his inky fingerprints. Still, to have his hands stained before breakfast was a record even for Peter.

Above them, owls were flying in with their usual mail, their coos and shrieks mixing with the loud chatter below. At the teachers’ table, Professor Sprout rubbed at her head, no doubt trying to fend off a growing headache. 

James scooped some scrambled eggs onto his plate. They were still soft and steaming, and just the smell of them made his mouth water. 

“What are you guys doing?” he asked after swallowing a forkful, curiosity piqued as Remus and Peter diligently continued to scribble. He was pretty sure McGonagall hadn’t given them any homework for today. 

“I’m reviewing the incantation we learned yesterday,” Remus explained gloomily. “I did terrible in yesterday’s lesson.” 

“And I figured, if Remus does it, I should too.” Peter grinned. He didn’t look that concerned with his grade, but then Peter rarely did.

Sirius scoffed, his black hair falling softly over his forehead as he leaned back in his seat. “I can’t believe you’re starting your school day with yesterday’s school. At least look up something more interesting.” 

“Not to mention you were one of the few who actually managed to transform their bowl yesterday, Moony,” James remarked, but he knew what Remus meant. He hated not perfecting spells too.

“I want to do it better,” Remus mumbled, confirming James’ thoughts.

“I get that,” he said. “We can go over it later together, if you want.”

“That would be great.” Remus smiled, looking up from his book with a grateful look that James quickly swatted away.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m only doing it so I don’t have to hear you mumbling the spell the whole night.” 

He said it confidently, which of course did nothing.

Remus exchanged a knowing half-smile with Sirius, then nodded. “Sure.” 

James shook his head, but the corners of his lips turned up as well. Traitors. All of them. 

Over by the entrance, another round of applause sounded. A quick look to the side revealed curly red hair and Gryffindor robes. Gideon Prewett. 

James had been wondering when he would turn up. His brother, Fabian, had already put his name in. He's pretty sure their sister, now married as Molly Weasley, would have forbidden them to do it, but she had already left the school many years ago. James remembered her voice well from one of the many howlers she had sent her brothers over the years, though he had been too young to meet her at Hogwarts. 

Gideon smiled at the students around and moved to his seat, raising his hand when he noticed James looking. James waved back, shooting him a smile and quick thumbs up before returning his attention to the table. 

“Are you going to enter too?” Sirius asked idly as Remus finally set his quill aside. James wasn’t fully sure if it was because he was done or because he had run out of space. The page he glimpsed before Remus shut his book was almost fully black with scribbles, notes filling every inch. 

“No way!” Peter quickly exclaimed, looking panicked, while Remus gave a shrug.

“I think I’d rather watch it than compete myself,” he said, his eyes glinting a little as he continued, “less stressful that way. And less chance of death.” 

Sirius leaned over to punch him in the shoulder. “Thanks for the optimism, mate.” 

James chuckled and Remus rolled his eyes, hand going to rub at where he’d been hit. 

“He’s right though,” Peter piped up, voice suddenly weaker when directly talking to Sirius again. It was clear he was still thinking about yesterday. 

A muscle jumped in Sirius’ jaw, his teeth tightly clenched. James wondered what words he was forcing down. 

“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” he finally said.

“It’s dangerous, but so is Quidditch,” James reasoned. “If the Ministry doesn’t screw up any of the safety measures, it should be relatively okay.”

Peter gave a meek nod, fiddling with the food on his plate.  

“Besides,” James continued, lips pulling into a side-ways grin, “danger is what makes it so fun.” 

Remus shook his head, an amused expression on his face. “Maybe for you. I’m content with just spectating. That way I can at least make fun of you.”

James used his spoon as a catapult and shot at him with a piece of his scrambled egg.  

The flames erupted five more times during breakfast. James recognised the white hair of Xenophilius Lovegood, an eccentric Ravenclaw from the year above them, and the black curly hair of Lucinda Talkalot, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but the rest of the challengers were hidden by the crowd assembled around the goblet. 

James didn’t particularly mind; he was more interested in piling tomatoes onto his plate and laughing at Peter as he accidentally snorted juice out his nose. Sirius looked so disgusted at the sight that James had to fight to not end up under the table with how hard he was laughing at the expression on his face.

The tournament seemed to stay on everyone's mind for the next few days. Though most students who wanted to put their name into the cup already had, the talks about possible champions or tasks had not lessened in the slightest. 

Even some of the teachers seemed to want to talk about the tournament. Though some for different reasons than others.

Professor Binns spent the first thirty minutes of History of Magic recounting past injuries and deaths that happened during the competition. For once, most of the class was actually paying attention, some with rising horror, some with morbid curiosity. 

If this was what he was planning to do in every History lesson this week, James was pretty sure most of the people who had thrown their names to the fire would start to regret their decision. 

Professor Binns really had a strange talent to describe things in the most disturbing way possible, recounting gruesome tales in the same tone as if he was talking about the weather. As he talked, Marlene McKinnon a few desks over started to grow progressively greener and greener in the face.  

James suppressed a wince. He still remembered that day in third year when McKinnon had gotten sick after listening to professor Binns’ gory stories about the Goblin rebellions.

It wasn’t pretty. 

“And of course then there was the most terrible case, after which they had to outlaw the games. I remember it well. It was a sight that’s not easy to forget. The first of the champions—” 

“Professor,” Lily Evans interrupted, swiftly raising her hand into the air. 

“ Ah.” Professor Binns blinked, as if waking from a long slumber. It was clear he was stunned someone was awake in his classes, much less raising their hand. James would almost bet no one had asked him anything during a lecture in the last two decades, at least.

He hovered in front of the large window at the head of the class, sun rays shining through his almost translucent body. “Yes. Ms. Evans?”

“As uh, fascinating, as it is, Professor, I think we should really move on to a different topic already. We still have to cover the rest of the material before the end of the class.”

“You’re quite correct, Ms. Evans, thank you. I might have gotten a bit carried away…Now back to the Uprising of Elfric the Eager—” 

Thank Merlin, James thought.

Of course, though McKinnon returning to her normal colour was a case for celebration, it also meant the rest of the lesson was terribly dull. The remaining time seemed to stretch out to infinity.

James distantly registered that Professor Binns was talking about fairies now, something about a grave offence for not fulfilling some sort of a treaty. It would be interesting, really, if it wasn’t for Professor Binns’ delivery. His slow, steady voice with barely any cadence had been proven to be better at putting students to sleep than any potion. 

From the right corner of the class, someone gave a quiet snore. 

James stared at his scroll, empty except for a stick-figure drawing of Professor Binns in the corner. He twirled the quill in his hand, then set it aside with a sigh. 

When the boredom didn’t pass even after the next five minutes, James gave in and leaned over to lightly elbow Sirius into the ribs. 

Sirius made a quiet, questioning hum, but didn't open his eyes. He stayed sprawled over their desk, his head lying on his outstretched arm. 

Like many students in class, he had taken to using History of Magic as an additional nap time. He was almost always out by the time Professor Binns finished his third sentence, and today didn’t seem to be any different. 

The sun that filtered through the coloured panels of glass next to them was warm, bathing their sides in soft accents of gold and red. 

He looks like a cat napping in sunlight, James thought with amusement, lips pulling into a small smile. Or a dog to be more accurate.  

His eyes lingered on Sirius’ face, gaze trailing across his soft, relaxed features, his chest filling with strange fondness. Sirius really did look so peaceful like this.

Sirius’ eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting James’ suddenly wide eyes.

The light from the window danced in his deep grey eyes making them look almost like liquid silver, shining like hundreds of little stars. 

James swallowed, throat suddenly dry. 

Sirius' eyes stayed on him, glimmering and intense. He blinked, slowly, as if still half-way between dreaming and awake. 

Is it even possible for someone like this to really exist? James thought distantly. He looks almost ethereal—

In the desk in front of them, Peter cursed, ink spilling all over his parchment. 

James startled, his eyes flitting away. Merlin, how long had he been staring? When he glanced back, there was what almost looked like a faint dusting of pink over Sirius’ cheeks. James dismissed it instantly, instead focusing on getting his strangely fast-beating heart back under control. Whatever it was, it was probably just a trick of the light.

The edges of Sirius’ smile looked a bit strange as their eyes met again.

 “I'll bet you five sickles that Peter just ruined his Astrology homework,” he said and James grinned back, trying to calm his still fast-beating heart.

“Deal.” 

“I can’t believe the ink spilled!” Peter wailed as they walked away from the class towards their next lesson, James five sickles poorer. “One moment it was okay and the next it was everywhere!” 

James rolled his eyes, a crooked smirk on his face.“The ink didn’t just spill, Wormtail. You spilled it.” 

The pout on Peter’s face stayed still firmly in place. “It’s just unfair. I was almost done.” 

James sighed. He couldn't believe the school year had barely started and Peter had already destroyed another one of his homeworks. The frequency of that was really quite concerning. 

“I guess you can copy some of mine. But don’t make it too obvious.” 

Peter sent him a grateful smile. 

“Thanks, Prongs!” 

James shrugged. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Be more aware of your surroundings next time, Pete,” Sirius commented coldly as they rounded a corner, moving past a propped suit of armour. James saluted it and the gauntlet moved, returning the gesture, which made him grin. 

“Like you’re one to talk about ‘ being aware of your surroundings ,’” Remus teased, a glint in his eyes. “I can absolutely guarantee you didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on in the last lesson.” 

“So what?” Sirius countered, raising his brows. “I was asleep.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Remus said, grinning impishly, “I think there was something else… distracting you, wasn’t it?”

To James’ confusion, Sirius' face flushed red. Before he could open his mouth, Sirius cursed under his breath, and shoved Remus forward so hard he stumbled a few steps down the corridor.

“Sorry!” Remus laughed, raising his arms in surrender as he turned to them. “Couldn’t help myself.” 

On Thursday, Professor Inkwell, an older witch with a penchant for scarves, spent the whole class giving them prophecies from her favourite set of teacups. 

“I sense a grave danger coming!” she half-shrieked, half-coughed for what felt like the third time in that hour alone. James fought not to yawn.

There was only a limited amount of times you could hear a prophecy about dying before it started to get old, and today’s prophecy was about three years too late.

There was an awkward moment of silence, during which a couple of students exchanged unsure glances, and someone by the window vainly tried to keep in a snort.

At the sound, Professor Inkwell’s head turned to send them a sharp warning look — or James at least thought that was what she did. It was hard to see her from the back of the room through all the magical fog and smoke she insisted on conjuring any time they had class.

“The Tournament will bring evil to our school, mark my words! Laugh now, while you still can...” she wailed loudly, her hands moving to pull the corners of her flowing, flower-patterned robe closer to her body, as if trying to fend off an incoming chill. 

With slow steps, she glided between the little round tables covered with long, dark red cloths, towards the second row of the classroom. There was a slight crack in her mask of all-knowing as she stumbled a little on the slightly raised step that separated the rows, but it quickly slid back into place as she righted herself and threw her tattered scarf over her shoulder.

“Now, let’s take a closer look at your futures. First, Ms. Evans.” 

She snatched the cup from Evan’s outstretched hand, the other hand moving to push up the glasses that had started to slide down the slope of her nose.

“A beautiful precognition," she exclaimed after a moment. "The stars tell me it's a good time for you to spread your wings and pursue your hidden passions!”

James was willing to bet she read that in the horoscope section of the Daily Prophet. The look on Evan’s face was similarly unimpressed. 

Professor Inkwell ignored it. 

The scarf writhed and trailed behind her like a dragon’s tail as she moved towards her next victim. 

“Pandora Sideris!” she called out as she suddenly twirled in the middle of the step, completely changing her trajectory. “Try and interpret your cup, dear.” 

Pandora nodded. Her hands moved to flip the pages of the thick book lying beside her, blond waves falling into her face. The smoke in the room continued to gather, making the air stiff and heavy. James fought the urge to cough. From his experience, that only made the smoke more unbearable.

“Well?” The Professor raised an eyebrow, her lips pulled into a sugary smile. “We don’t have all day.”  

“There’re dots all over, forming what appears to be a sun...” Pandora said slowly as her eyes flitted between the pages and the leaves in the cup. “That means it should be a sign of good luck.” 

“Hand it to me.” 

Inkwell’s long, wrinkled fingers curled around the offered porcelain, her eyes narrowing as she took a quick look inside, then set it back on the table. 

“Hmm. A good try. Five points to Ravenclaw.” 

The other Ravenclaws around her smiled and Pandora’s seatmate offered her subtle thumbs up. Professor Inkwell breezed past them, moving towards the back of the class while cautious eyes followed her, heads turning. 

James tried to fight a sigh as she came to a stop before their table, but he had a feeling he wasn’t particularly successful at the look that crossed Professor Inkwell’s face. 

She held out her hand. “Mr. Black, your cup, please.” 

With an openly doubtful look, Sirius handed the cup to her, and watched as she peered into the left-over tea leaves.

“Ah yes,” Professor Inkwell hummed, hand moving to push her glasses up again. “Looks like your mother will finally have some great fortune come to her very soon. About time, don’t you think?”  

The saccharine smile she wore spread wider. Sirius blinked twice in a rapid succession, though the rest of his face stayed impassive.

James narrowed his eyes, pinning Professor Inkwell in place with his glare. A teacher, a divination teacher at that, should know better than to bring up Walburga Black to her disinherited son. And claiming that it was time she finally had some good fortune? What was she even trying to imply?

James clenched his jaw as irritation bubbled inside him. 

For a second, the room was entirely quiet, save for the quiet  tinkling of the bells and beads hanging by the window. 

“It’s good, don’t you think?” the teacher prodded.

“Yeah,” Sirius said coolly, “maybe she’ll finally get a brain.” 

James’ shoulders loosened, a startled snort escaping from his lips. 

“Maybe in a bottle,” he quipped back, nudging Sirius with his shoulder. “I heard the Mythos Apothecary will have a sale soon. Two brains for the price of one.”  

Sirius glanced at him, the impassive expression on his face melting into what James knew was subtle relief. James sent him a small smile, though he could still feel his own blood boiling in anger. 

The other students laughed as well, the tension in the room lifting. Inkwell’s eyes flitted between them, almost nervously. It was clear she felt she was losing the grip over the situation, and didn’t like it. 

Suits her right, James thought darkly, it was her own fault. 

“Mr. Potter!” she barked out suddenly, her voice climbing an octave higher. “Your turn. Tell me what your cup says.” 

“Made in Diagon Alley, Professor.” 

Professor Inkwell sputtered, her face going red as she gritted her teeth while the class around her roared in laughter. James thought he even saw Lily Evans hiding a smile which was a feat in itself. 

“Your precognition,” she gritted out, the sugary smile that was painted on her face long forgotten. 

“Ah,” James voiced, as if finally understanding. “Well, I have this circle of bubbles here that is supposed to mean I’ll find what was lost… Or that I’ll lose something. Quite unclear if you’re asking me. Then lines, which mean connection and unity."

He lifts his eyes from the teacup, looking straight at her. If she was hoping to embarrass him while he struggled to find the meaning of the leaves in the book, she miscalculated. 

"There’s also this weird chicken in the corner.”

Next to him, Peter slapped a hand against his mouth, almost choking on his laugh and trying to hide it.

Professor Inkwell’s eyes zeroed on him, her voice somehow rising even higher. 

“Mr. Pettigrew! Does something seem funny to you?” 

“No Professor,” he quickly denied, but any impression of his innocence was destroyed by the way he almost choked on another chuckle. In the seat next to him, Remus turned his head away, his shoulders shaking. 

Peter was starting to grow concerningly red, either from embarrassment, or the suppressed laughs. James had to bite down onto his own lips, but it did little to calm him down. Somehow hiding his amusement only made him want to laugh louder. The rest of the students in the room were no better, discreetly hiding their smiles behind the palms of their hands and the cuffs of their robes.

Professor Inkwell seemed to size Peter up, as if deciding, if reading his cup was even a good idea. Finally, she reached over to Remus’ teacup instead, bringing it up to her eye with desperately clenching fingers. 

“Yes, yes. I see it. Your energy is all wrong again...” she mumbled. Remus used the time when her attention was away to try and appear more calm and collected than he actually was.

“Did you try those cleaning rituals I told you about?” She asked absentmindedly, twirling the cup in her hand as she continued to peer into it with a small frown. 

“Of course, Professor.” 

Naturally he didn't. The wrong energies she claimed to feel from him ever since their first divination class had much less to do with Remus' connection to the spiritual world and more with a certain day of the month when he grew a tail. 

Still she always asked, and the answer was always the same. 

“Hmm...”

Professor Inkwell finally looked up from the cup, her brows still pressed together.

Remus stared at her impassively, the corner of his mouth valiantly twitching. Next to him, Peter was now trying to hide his choked chuckles in the hood of his robe. 

Professor Inkwell glanced at the cup, then back at him.

“Do you have a shaving problem, dear?”

James lost it. With a thud, he slid down from his chair, clutching at his stomach. 

Sirius seemed to have given up as well, lying curled up with his forehead on the table, trying to control his laugh through deep breaths. It didn’t seem to be helping. 

“Shaving problem!” he wheezed, then thudded his head against the table. Their laughter mixed with Remus’ and Pete’,  echoing around the room. In fact, Remus looked about to die from the lack of oxygen. 

When the class ended, James left with his cheeks and stomach muscles still hurting. Griffindor lost five points, but it felt all sorts of worth it. 

Professor McGonagall had little care for gossip, about the Tournament or otherwise and she made that clear as soon as the door fell shut behind her. 

“I’m sure you’re all very excited, which is not a bad thing,” she said as she walked the length of the class, coming to a stop in front of her desk, “However, I must warn you that I will not tolerate disruption of the class of any kind.” 

She shot a knowing look towards the left side of the class, where Marauders were sitting. James gave her his best innocent smile while Sirius smirked, effectively ruining it. 

“Please, Professor, just a little bit,” whined Marlene, but McGonagall didn’t budge.

With sure steps she strode across the classroom, settingdown a tray filled with gems with a flick of her wand. James noted that some gems were as big as a clenched fist while others were flat and wide, shining with numerous colours. Professor McGonagall leaned over to inspect them for a moment, the tip of her brown hat swaying slightly as she nodded to herself, satisfied.

“Take out your wands, please,“ she instructed as she moved back and the class filled with the sound of rustling robes and disappointed sighs. 

“Wait, did you just see that?” Peter asked one day while they were sitting in the courtyard in between classes, the autumn sun warming the backs of their necks. 

“Bloody hell,” James cursed, his cards exploding and once again making Remus the winner. 

“How much is it now?” Remus asked with a teasing grin, “Three to zero?” 

“Hey,” Sirius protested, “I won once.” 

“You were cheating, it doesn’t count.” 

Sirius opened his mouth to defend himself, but Peter interrupted, sitting up straighter.

“Guys, I’m serious. I saw something.” 

James looked up from the bench they selected as their playing ground for a round of Exploding Snap and followed Peter’s gaze towards the sky. 

Peter was right. Something big was descending from the sky, looking almost like a giant box. No, James squinted his eyes, not a box. A carriage. 

And in front of it — 

“Are those Pegasi?” Remus questioned, squinting as well, and sure enough, as the carriage drew in closer James started to make out the silhouettes of the sky horses. They flew in closer to the castle, feathered wings spread wide, silver manes flowing in the wind behind them, the sun glistening off their polished hoofs.

“They’re too big to be the ordinary kind,” James remarked as they glided right above them, the students in the courtyard cheering and clapping, “could be Abraxans.” 

He’s only read about those in Newt Scamander’s Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. To see so many of them was nothing short of magical.

“That’s amazing,” Sirius whispered, eyes wide and James nodded in silent awe, gaze still tracking the winged horses. They made a turn in the air, descending towards the school grounds.   

Some of the students ran towards the open stone windows of the courtyards, plastering themselves against the pillars in an attempt to see better. Word had to have spread, because soon the courtyard was much fuller than before, students running from the castle with contagious excitement and pointing fingers. 

The Marauders moved closer to the columns as well, just in time to see the horses’ hooves connect with the ground. The pegasi ran forward for another couple of paces, pulling the carriage down on the ground until all four wheels were safely rested on the grass. Then, seemingly satisfied, the Abraxans folded down their wings, some of them happily neighing. 

They were each at least three times bigger than any pegasi James has seen, just like he suspected when he saw them flying overhead. The carriage they’ve been dragging was almost as high as half of the Quidditch stands. James was pretty sure their whole year could fit in and still have more space, and that was not counting the fact it was doubtlessly magically enlarged on the inside.

“That's the Beauxbatons Academy!” someone exclaimed next to his right, pointing  towards the familiar crest on the doors of the carriage.  

James was just watching as the door to the carriage flew open and figures of students dressed in light blue started to filter outside, when he heard loud exclamations from the other side of the courtyard.

“Everyone! Look! Look! There’s something in the lake!”

“It must be the second school!” screeched one of the younger students and the crowd moved, now even bigger than before. Soon enough, everyone was rushing towards the windows on the other side of the courtyard, plastering themselves against the stone columns to see better.

James tried to push his way through the crowd, nearly tripping as someone shoved him. 

“Hey!” he barked at them, his scolding gaze falling onto a group of over–excited second years, who quickly scrambled for apologies. James waved them off, feeling a little bad for suddenly snapping at them while he turned his head around, trying to locate his friends. The crowd must have swept them up too. 

Someone else pushed into his back as they tried to make their way forward and James stumbled. He quickly brought up his hands, trying to regain balance, a quidditch reflex really, which is the only thing that prevented him from smashing onto the student before him. 

He was about to apologise when a hand suddenly wrapped around his wrist, tugging him through the crowd.

James startled for a split second, eyes instinctually narrowing, his other hand reaching for his wand before he realised what it meant, his tension melting away. There was only one person in Hogwarts that would dare to drag James Potter after them after all. Well, two maybe, but Moony wasn’t one to do that kind of thing. 

“James!” he heard Remus shout as he was pulled out of the crowd and into their little corner of the courtyard. “Come on, you’re missing it, quick!” 

He and Peter were standing on the stone benches put against the wall, Peter balancing precariously on his tiptoes. Around them, the students continued to cheer and shout, their voices getting louder and louder.

“Come on, Prongs, up.” Sirius tugged at his hand again and James followed him, stepping up on the stone bench as well. The other students were still close, crowding the square, but the bench gave the Marauders added height, separating them from the rest and finally giving them some much needed breathing space.

“There it is!” Peter exclaimed, pointing at the centre of the lake. James turned his gaze towards it, noticing something  dark among the waves. Something… he leaned in closer, bracing with his hand on one of the columns of the wide window.

With incredible speed, a large piece of wood rose towards the sky, water bubbling and rising around it until a whole ship burst from the water, small waterfalls falling from it’s now emerged parts. 

James' eyes widened. A whole ship! 

The wood looked old and reminded him of resurrected wrecks of old ships. The sails were dark grey,  almost black, with numerous small tears and holes all over their length. The back of the ship shone with dulled red lights from within the ships’ portholes and above it stretched wooden beams intertwined with bones. 

The ship swayed from side to side a little, before finding its place on the surface. As soon as it did, it started to move towards the bank of the lake, gracefully gliding over the water.

“That’s insane,” James chuckled disbelievingly, his eyes still blown wide. “They have a ship. A whole-ass skeleton ship.” 

“I don’t know whose entrance was more impressive,” Remus breathed out, his eyes moving away from the ship with what looked like great difficulty.

“Right?” Peter exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands. “How cool was that?! Do you think they’ll live here with us now? I know Dumbledore said they would study with us but where will they even sleep?” 

“Probably inside those.” James tilted his head towards the ship and Peter’s excitement waned a little. Over by the shore, students wrapped in furs and long robes started to disembark from the ship, forming two neat lines by the edge of the lake. 

“Well, okay, but you can’t be sure about that…” 

“It seems like a safe bet,” Sirius chimed in as he hopped off from the bench and James jumped down as well, landing next to him. 

He was about to tell them they should go inside before the entrance gets overcrowded when he caught the sight of Remus crouching down, lifting something from the grass.

“Pete,” Remus called out in a slightly puzzled voice, as he stood up again, dusting the thing in his hands off with his other hand. “Isn’t this yours? I think I saw you carry it a few times…” 

Peter turned, his face going white when he noticed what Remus had in his hand. He made an aborted noise and dived for it, yanking it out of Remus’ hold with sudden fierceness. 

“I didn’t even notice I lost it!” he exclaimed, smoothing his hand down the leather binding. James noticed his fingers were digging so deeply into the spine of the book that it looked like they were almost spasming. 

Blond hair moved as Peter lowered his head a little, staring at the book, almost as if seeing it for the first time. “It must have fallen out of my bag…” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise around them.

Remus blinked at him. His hand stayed outstretched in the space between them for another second before he seemed to realise what he was doing, and put it down.

“Sorry!” Peter quickly amended, waving his free hand in the air as he gave them a bashful smile. "It’s just… it was a limited edition, really expensive. It cost me almost all my birthday money. My mum would kill me if she’d find out I lost it.”

He squeezed the green leather cover of the book a little tighter, lifting his head back up. “Thanks, Moony! I owe you.”

“It’s no problem,” Remus told him warmly.

Peter gave a couple of grateful nods as he slipped the book back into his bag. For some reason, the motion made Sirius’ eyes sharpen, but he didn't say anything. 

James’ gaze flickered between them for a second before he turned towards the gate to the castle. They had places to be.

“Come on,” he said, “I’m sure Dumbledore will want to introduce the two schools during dinner.” 

On the hills behind the castle, the sun had begun to set. 

Remus sent a doubtful look towards the lake before turning. “Are we all even going to fit in there?”

James hummed in thought. “If we don't, I’m all for the floating tables.”

Remus was already moving toward the hall, before the words registered in his brain, and he stopped mid-step. “The what?”

“The Floating tables,” James repeated easily. “I said I’d like to sit there.” 

He turned his gaze to Sirius, whose lips gave a suspicious twitch that had James suppressing his own. “You know what I mean, right, Padfoot?”

“Of course. The Floating tables,” Sirius agreed without hesitation, nodding. “Everyone’s heard of them.”

James beamed. “Right.”

Remus squinted his eyes in suspicion, pushing the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder. “Really? Everyone ’s heard of them?”

At his doubtful look, Peter puffed up. “I did too!” 

“Sure…” Remus said slowly. “And what do those look like?”

James gave a shrug. “Like tables.”

“ Floating ?” Remus pressed.

“Sometimes they float in circles,” Sirius supplied. 

“Except for times when they don't, of course.” James added helpfully.  

Sirius nodded. “Of course.”

“Of course,” Remus echoed emptily, then gave a sigh. “If we walk in and there really are new rows of floating tables above us, I'm going to lose it.”

James grinned wider. “Only one way to find out, Moony.”

“Alright,” Sirius said as he came in closer and threw his arm around James' shoulders. “Let’s go meet the competition.”