CHAPTER VI

 The sky was bleak when James woke up, as if fitting his mood. He stayed still for a few moments, simply staring outside the window from the comfortable warmth of his blankets, then sighed and rolled out of the bed.  The task of searching for his clothes turned out to be a lot more complicated when he realised he couldn’t really see much, but even with his eye vision blurry, he could make out as the hazy shape that was Remus smacks his hand against his forehead a bed over as he complained about getting up. Suppressing a smile, James reached for his wand on the table to summon his glasses, the world finally turning sharper. 

As he was getting up, Peter ran around him, saying something about looking for his socks. By the time James was already dressed and ready to go, he didn’t seem to have made any progress, his left foot still bare as he continued to walk all over the room, searching. 

“Just wear a different pair,” Remus told him absently, rummaging through the books in his trunk. One of them fell on the ground with a loud thud that had James snapping his head towards the sound but Remus didn’t seem to pay it any attention, his back still to them and arms moving.  

Peter gave a loud, loaded sigh. 

“But those are my favourite, the green knitted ones, with the little stripes…”

“Did you check the bathroom?” Sirius asked from where he was lying on his bed, already dressed as well, and lazily flipping through a book held above his head. 

At the words, Peter brightened and ran towards the bathroom, his face full of renewed hope.

“It’s not in the bathroom,” James told him as he sat down on the edge of Sirus’ bed, stretching his legs. “I was just there and it’s empty.”

“I know,” Sirius glanced to the side to look at him, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. “It’s by his bed, I noticed it five minutes ago.”

Of course it was, James thought and huffed out an amused breath, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Didn't he already check there?”

“He did. Twice.” 

James shook his head, chuckling and Sirius’ grin grew slightly wider before he returned back to reading, the expression on his face satisfied.

“It’s not there,” Peter pouted as he came out and James lifted a brow, sending a meaningful look to Sirius who sighed, then gestured towards the bed. 

“But I’ve already looked there?” Peter screeched in surprise, scrambling forward. 

“Guess you didn’t look enough,” Sirius told him evenly. “Are you sure you’re not as blind as Prongs here?”

“Hey!” James protested, snapping his head to Sirius. “You're too confident for someone within hexing distance.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sirius smirked. “Can you even find m-?” 

James smacked him in the face with a pillow. Sirius, the little bastard, only cackled. 

James hit him again.

“What are you looking for, Moony?” Peter asked as he finished putting on his newly rescued socks, his eyes trailing curiously on the mess Remus had made around his bed. Scrolls and books were lying haphazardly thrown on the floor, a few loose papers from some books lying on the carpet by his bed. 

Remus spared him a glance, then turned back to flipping through another book, his face closed off. 

“Just a book.”

“Oh,” Peter voiced, a little more subdued. 

He stared at Remus for a moment, watching him turn  the pages before he tried again. “Then, what’s it about?"

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” Peter laughed a little, the sound high-pitched, “How can it be about-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Remus said sharply, snapping the book close. “There’s no need to concern yourself with it.” 

The irritation in his words made James pause a little. He glanced at Sirius, who only shrugged, already going back to his reading. Peter seemed to blanch a little and Remus sighed, the expression on his face almost regretful as he ran a head over his face.

“I just…I think I need to be alone for a moment.” 

The door fell shut behind him before Peter managed to scramble for an answer. 

“That was strange, don’t you think?” he said after a moment, staring at the door. James gave a quiet hum, busy leaning over to peek at whatever Sirius was reading. 

“I just, I only wanted to help him. I don't get why — why was he so angry…” 

He trailed off, frowning. 

“Shouldn’t someone…go after him?” he said after a moment and Sirius sent him a look.

“But not you right?” 

“That’s!” Peter flushed a little. “I’m not saying that. It’s just, it was…”

“He said he needed to be alone.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Let’s just give him some space,” James agreed, and Peter deflated a little, but nodded. 

The rest of the day dragged on excruciatingly slow. 

Remus didn’t turn up for breakfast, just as they'd expected, but he was already in the class when they entered, sitting at his usual spot. With slight hesitance, Peter moved to sit beside him, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Thankfully, it didn't last long, and by the end of their lessons, they’ve already reverted back to normal.  If James had to guess he’d say it was probably by steadily ignoring what happened. 

As they’ve agreed before, James and Sirius decided to search for an empty classroom and go through a few spells that seem like they could be the most useful against giants. There was little time, with the sun already setting so early, so they managed to cover less spells than James would have wanted, but there was nothing to be done. 

“At least we covered some of it,” Sirius told him as they were making their way to the Great Hall for early dinner. “We’ll wing the rest.” 

“Yeah,” James agreed, cracking his back to get rid of the stubborn muscle pain from the last practice. Sirius was right, they’d figure it out, they always do. 

They were just rounding the corner by the Great Staircase when a mocking laughter hit their ears and made James grit his teeth. In the next moment they had a full view of the group of Slytherins by the edge of the stairs, their faces full of twisted glee. 

“That’s right, run away!” Crouch called after Peter who seemed to be doing his best to ignore them, his face pale and anxious. 

James saw the moment Peter noticed them, his eyes widening  as they jumped to them from staring at the ground. His pace quickened, then turned almost into a run as the laughter behind him grew louder. 

“Look  at that,” Avery pointed in delight. “He’s running after them like the little lackey he is, isn’t that hilarious?”

James glared at them, fingers itching for his wand, but the group was already turning to leave,  laughing as they disappeared down the stairs. Snape was the last of them, trailing behind as always. Right before he  disappeared from their line of sight, he looked over his shoulder to send them one last hateful look. 

“What a bunch of tossers,” Sirius muttered angrily under his breath, then turned to Peter who had finally made it to them. 

“What the hell was that?” he demanded and Peter’s shoulders went up, gaze quickly moving away. 

“I don’t know…” he mumbled. “They’ve just been standing there when I went down from the Common Room and Snape kept asking me weird questions and then they were all laughing…”

James’ eyes narrowed.  “Want us to hex them? They can’t have gotten far.”

Sirius nodded, obviously on board with the idea, but Peter's head seemed to lower even more. 

“No…” he said. “Let’s just go.”

 James frowned. He liked the idea with hexing much better.

 “Alright.”

They moved out of the hallway and towards the Great Hall.

As they entered the hall and Peter moved to sit next to Remus, Sirius turned to him, his voice subdued.

“Let’s prank them, after the Task.” 

“Gladly,” James agreed, his lips lifting slightly at the mere idea. Peter might have been too afraid to get even, but they didn’t deserve to just walk away. 

“Good. The way Snivellus had been looking at us creeps me the bloody hell out.” 

A sliver of light shone between the wooden planks barred over the window of the Shrieking Shack and James tilted his head, heavier with the set of antlers at the top of it, and glanced through the cracks outside. The sun had set a while ago now, and the sky was a dark indigo blue, the air coming in through the window cold, carrying the chill of autumn. 

The light grew stronger as a stray cloud finally passed by the large white orb shining in the darkness. James turned back just in time to see Remus’ pupils went wide, lines of red and black running through the white of his eyes. They twisted around his irises like wild animals circling their prey, making them grow larger, darker.

Remus jolted forward on the ground, convulsing. A pained shout teared out of his lips as he twisted to the side, his body bending at an unnatural angle. 

The sight was horrifying. James had to grit his teeth to not step forward, to not drop his animagus form and reach out as another loud scream pushed past Remus’ gritted teeth. They knew better than to come in closer when he was transforming, an experience they’ve had to learn the hard way, but the thought came anyway. 

Only watching felt wrong, twisted. James felt sick just standing by and looking while the sound of his friend’s bones snapping continued to echo in the room. 

Sirius, or rather Padfoot, must have sensed it in the tenseness of his posture, or maybe he remembered it from when James confided in him one night a few years ago, because he padded a little closer, grazing past James with his tail before he returned to his guarding position at the other side of the corner. 

Remus screamed again, the edges of it coloured with growl. His nails started growing longer and sharper, digging into the floor below him, his spine elongating and twisting, making his body constrict again. 

James turned his gaze away, unable to look any longer. The action made him feel guilty, like he was dismissing Remus’ pain, like he was leaving him to deal with it alone, but looking at him felt wrong as well. 

A gust of wind ran through the house, the wood groaning loudly in protest. It was no wonder the locals had started to believe this place to be haunted, James thought as the sound of the wood shrieking mixes with Remus’ pained howl. The sound was loud, rising in volume. 

Then, nothing. 

The room was silent.

James shifted his focus back, meeting pitch black eyes. It was a common sight now, but he still felt a small shiver run up his spine at the look in Moony's eyes. The lack of any kind of recognition. The anger. The thirst for blood, the need to hurt. 

It was Moony, and it wasn’t. 

He was James’ friend. And he’d kill him in a second. 

From his position on a broken down wardrobe, Wormtail gave a nervous squeak. 

Moony moved up from the ground, his figure large, looming as he stood on his hind legs. His mouth pulled back into a vicious snarl that reverberated through the crooked floor of the Shrieking shack, down to James’ hooves. 

On instinct, James angled his head, the moon light catching on the sharp ends of his antlers.  To his right, Padfoot gave a loud bark and moved a step forward, back arched, ready to jump in the way of any threat. 

Remus growled louder, his dark, blood-hungry eyes flitting to the dog, then to the stag. His claws teared into the floor, ripping and destroying the wood below him. A trail of blood ran down his fur as the splinters cut into his skin, though it didn’t seem like he registered any of the pain.

James made a low warning sound back in his throat as Moony seemed to glance towards the door. ‘Eyes right here, Moony’, James thought as he took another step closer and Sirius followed, baring his teeth. 

For a second, Moony looked at them, the snarl of his teeth disappearing as he stared, his claws finally not tearing into the floor. ‘That’s it,’ James thought, encouraging him in his mind as Moony’s eyes flit between them, ‘it’s us.’

He had barely finished the thought when Moony pounced forward, his face twisting. 

A clawed hand moved through the air. A blur, and Padfoot went flying to the side, then smashed against the floor with a dull thud. Wormtail let out a loud, terrified screech. 

James pushed Moony back with his antlers, and the wolf let out a guttural growl. There were ropes of spit falling down from his canines, trailing down the matter fur around his snout as he turned to James. The moonlight catched on the claws of his hand as he swiped it towards him, inhumanly swift. 

The claws digged into his skin and tore, but James ignored it and instead violently pushed with his head. He felt a slight resistance and then it disappeared, and Moony stumbled backwards. 

A scrap of claws on the floor. Padfoot moved in closer, flanking Remus and forcing him back into the corner. Moony’s dark, black eyes snapped between them, his mouth twisted. 

He jumped forward, intending to break through them and run, but they were ready for him. 

With a warning snarl, Padfoot jumped into his way, snipping at his legs. Remus stumbled back and sharp canines snapped on empty air with a loud click. He let out a whine and James used his distractedness to force him back into the corner with his antlers. 

With a loud sniff, Moony lifted his head. 

Padfoot barked at him again, loud and clear. A warning.

Remus growled, but it was quieter, more subdued.

James watched with wary gaze as his threatening posture started to deflate, the bloodthirsty fire in his eyes turning instead to a burning ember. It didn’t disappear fully, it never did, but he acknowledged they were stronger than him, at least for the moment. A subdued feeling of satisfaction filled James’ chest, but there was no time to savour it. 

Instead, he glanced at Sirius, wanting to assess whatever damage Moony had done, but it was hard to see anything on the dark fur with  the lack of light in the room. With a cautious look towards Moony to make sure he was really settled for now, James closed the distance separating him from his best friend and leaned down to carefully nudge him. 

At the gesture, Padfoot tilted his head upwards and licked the side of James’ snout, a silent ‘I’m okay’, his tail swishing in the air. Even with Moony still menacingly glaring in the corner, James felt his mood lift up exponentially, some of the protectiveness in him subsiding. 

He watched as Padfoot ran in a low circle around him, taking his turn to check for any injuries. A quiet whine sounded from him as he circled around, and James winced a little when he remembered the pain he felt when Remus’ claws dug into him. There must be drying blood somewhere on his shoulder, and if he focused past all the adrenaline still rushing in his veins, he was aware he was starting to feel a worsening dull ache. It probably didn’t look pretty, but at least it wasn’t bleeding too much. 

Padfoot seemed to have finished his inspection as he padded back next to him, and James couldn’t help but think there  was almost something protective in the way he glanced from him towards Moony, firmly standing by his side. 

Peter jumped down a spot from the wardrobe, though he only settled on a cupboard not much lower than he was before, still keeping distance from them. 

Together, they waited, the Moon in the sky moving higher.

Within the first three hours, Moony grew restless. He was less violent than when he turned, as always, but it was clear he wouldn't like staying cooped in like this for much longer.

James wasn’t sure if the werewolf in him remembered running through the Forest, or if it was only something that his body knew he needed, without having the memory of it. Either way, it was clear that keeping him inside any longer would do more harm than good, to all of them. 

Sirius seemed to notice as well because he ran to the door, then turned once in a circle before pointing with his snout away.

‘Outside?’ he seemed to ask and James inclined his head, which earner him a happy bark.

James moved to the side and Remus slowly started to move, rising on weirdly bent legs. With caution, he moved to follow  Sirius who had nudged the door open and slid through. James followed as well, keeping an eye on the way Remus moved. He had calmed down for now, mostly, but it was always better to be careful. 

They made it through the hallway and James instantly wished he could curse out loud right now. 

He always forgot about this part, the stairs. His greatest enemy in animagus form. 

Peter, of course, didn’t share his animosity or his problems. 

He ran past James and jumped on the beaten down railing, easily running down it, long tail trailing past him. James couldn’t help but think it was a little insulting. He watched as he slowed and turned at the end of it, keeping a keen eye on Moony as took the last few steps to make it to the ground as well. 

James spared a thought slipping out of his animagus form for a moment, but he knew it was just a pointless fantasy. Moony would go crazy if a human came this close to him and all their work calming him down and showing him they were stronger than him would be for nothing. So no, James would just have to go through with this. Again. 

He took a step. Immediately, his hooves slipped a little, the surface too tilted and uneven. James cursed in his head so colourfully he was sure it would get him detention for a week. 

Did Dumbledore really have to put stairs into a shack for a werewolf? Did he hope Remus would slip and break his neck or what? Because it for sure was working, he thought as he took another step. No matter what he did, his hooves kept dangerously sliding off the stairs, leaving him scrambling for any purchase to stay upright. 

With a little bit of effort, and a particular yelp he wasn’t going to ever talk about, he managed to right himself and continued down, each step shaky and barely balanced.

Under the stairs, Padfoot gave a loud bark that James just knew was him laughing. Smug bastard. 

James sent him a look and then eyed the rest of the stairs. Would it be too crazy to just chance it and slide down? 

James tilted his head, then figured it was worth a try. It wasn’t the worst idea he had, probably, and anything sounded better than trying to get down the normal way. Without further hesitance, he threw himself forward. 

Wormtail squealed and jumped out of the way just in time as a blurred figure of a stag sped past him. James was pretty sure he heard a quiet thud as Peter collided with something he shouldn't have, followed by a shrieking squeak, but he was too busy balancing to care. Everything passed him in a blur and the next thing he knew, he was landing on his hooves.

The force sent him flying a bit forward and he stumbled, then righted himself. From the floor, Peter gaped at him with wide eyes. 

I'm down. It worked, he realised with a rising satisfaction, and more than a sliver of disbelief. It really worked. 

He made a weird noise, since Prongs’ vocal chords didn’t really translate human laughter well, but inside he was ecstatic. Sirius gave a loud triumphant howl, and Moony joined him, as he always did whenever Sirius started. Once, they’d traded howls for an hour simply because Sirius had wanted to see how long it would take Remus to stop. 

Together they moved forward and through the corridor leading from the Shack to the Whomping Willow, the stone a bit slippery under their feet. Once they were close enough Wormtail weaved between them and runs towards the surface. 

His whiskers appeared in the hole a moment later, black eyes shining in the dark as he looked at them. Looks like the coast is clear, James thought.

Sirius moved first and James stayed behind Remus, pushing him slightly when he refused to move. The werewolf glanced at him, lips pulled into a snarl, but Padfoots’ loud bark from the outside made him deflate again.

As they got out, James had to blink against the sudden light. Even the darkness of the night seemed so much brighter in comparison to the blackened tunnel and the caged-in light of the Shack. Finally not heaving to keep his head down, James lifted to his full height, his neck muscles aching.

The long branches of the Willow gently swayed in the air above them as they made their way out of their reach and towards the Forest, still suspended in the air. It wouldn’t be long before they became deadly again, but at this moment the tree looked almost peaceful, serene. 

With the wide hills and meadows of the Hogwarts grounds around him, James had to squish down the urge to just turn around and start running, going as fast as he could and then even faster, competing with the wind. 

The long strands of grass below him were cold against his fur, yet pleasant. It was a nice change from the creaking wooden panels of the house or the slippering stone. James and the Prongs in him both rejoiced in the feeling of steady ground beneath his hooves, the taste of forest, the freedom in the air. 

They were almost by the tree line when Sirius, who was closing their rear and staying a few paces behind, suddenly sniffled in the air and stopped mid-step. James watched, bewildered, as he turned away from the group with his nose tilted towards the ground and ran back. 

A few paces from the Willow, he lowered his head to sniff again at something laying on the ground. Whatever it was, it was dark and a bit shapeless, and mostly hidden by tall grass. From this far off, it could have been about anything. 

Sirius barely turned his nose towards it, then immediately recoiled. He made a gagging sound, his body heaving. 

What in Merlin's long-ass beard? James though and cursed - not for the first time - the fact they couldn't talk when like this. Usually, they didn’t need to, able to read each other well enough, but this was not a normal occasion.

Just in case, he tilted his head to the side, peering past his antlers towards Remus to keep an eye on him while Padfoot quietly ran back, his tongue sticking out in what looked like disgust. 

He ran past Moony in a low circle, nuzzling lightly into James’ side and sniffed, like he was replacing whatever disgusting thing he just smelled with James' own scent. He stayed like that for a moment, his tail finally resuming its wagging.  

James tried not to revel in it too much. Sirius had always been tactile as Padfoot but even after years, James was still weak. If only he didn’t look so damned cute like this. 

Maybe it really was good James wasn’t in his human form now, because Merlin knew he could never stop petting Padfoot if he was. Padfoot’s fur had no business being as soft as it looked. And Sirius always acted so happy when he scratched behind his ears, but growled when Peter or Remus tried it. It was a little addicting. 

Remus took a step forward, restless and James shifted his attention back to reality just as Padfoot barked at Moony, reminding him to play nice. Peter made himself known from the ground, giving a loud squeak, then quivered, pressing his body further to the ground as Moony’s black, bottomless eyes swept past him, glaring into the darkness of the Forest. 

James knew that look, Moony wanted to run. He got that, the Prongs in him wanted that as well, but they were still too close to the castle, and too close to the part of the forest that Hagrid often wandered in. They needed to get further. 

The wolf made a move towards the right and James stepped in his way, forcefully blowing air out of his snout. A warning.

Remus growled back in response, showing his sharp fangs, his eyes blazing. James could almost see the primal thoughts behind the black of his eyes. He wanted to run through the forest, and the stag was standing in his way. That was all he cared about.

A second, then Remus moved. James held his ground as Moony lunged and slammed into his front legs. With a loud squeak, Wormtail jumped and ran towards the nearest tree, hiding behind one of the large roots. James winced a little at the sudden pain, but held steady. 

James slammed his hoof into the ground and Remus’ unseeing eyes flitted to the motion. He blanched, faltered. Behind him, Sirius gave a loud, angry bark and snapped his teeth around Remus’ hind leg. The werewolf gave a pained howl and staggered. 

With his teeth still barred he rested his front claws against the ground, as if to make himself smaller, accepting he was outmatched.

James eyed him carefully, but Moony made no more moves to attack, his gaze chained to the ground. Slowly, James tiltedhis head towards the left and Padfoot dipped his own in understanding. Time to move. 

Together, they made Remus follow them towards the part of the Forest where they usually stayed during the full moons, Wormtail scrambling to run after them, his little feet moving quickly as he tried to catch up.  

As soon as they were far enough from the castle, they started to pick up speed. The Prongs in him sang with unrestrained happiness, wind swishing past his antlers.

Moony howled, the sound echoing in the trees, rising around the hills. 

The morning came in slowly, the first sun rays peeking from behind the tall mountains on the horizon. James watched, mesmerised, as the sky changed into a beautiful tapestry dancing with all shades of reds, oranges and yellows. The sun rays filtered through the trees in beams of light, looking almost like they were glittering with gold. 

James closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the warm light on his skin, the light wind in his hair. His legs and arms ached from all the running, but he felt calmer, more settled. He thought maybe Prongs needed to run just as much as Moony did. 

He opened his eyes just in time to watch as Sirius padded closer and nudged his snout against Remus’ limp hand on the ground. Slowly, the corner of Remus’ lips moved slightly up.

“Welcome back,” James told him, a crooked smile lifting the corner of his lips. 

He watched as Remus pushed himself up enough to sit, his hair matted with stray leaves. He looked tired, but the tension that had been gathering in him for days was gone, leaving with the last sliver of the Moon. 

“I feel like I can sleep for a week straight,” he said, voice scratchy and unused, but light. He moved as if to pet Sirius, but Padfoot jumped away, giving him an unimpressed look. 

James chuckled, drags his fingers through his messy hair.

“Tell me about it.”

Sirius barked in agreement, startling Peter who had started to fall asleep. 

“Come on, Tail, help Remus up.” James told him and Peter automatically moved, thinking to protest only as he was already helping Remus up to his feet. 

“Why me?” 

“Figured it was only fair,” James said breezily, shrugging. “You didn’t exactly do much yesterday, did you?” 

Peter gave a sheepish chuckle. “Ah…You’re right.” 

A nd I also don’t want Remus to see he got me good last night, James thought. His shoulder was still aching slightly, the pain dulled but constant.

“Don’t sweat it, just be his personal crunch this time, alright?” 

Remus gave a small noise of protest, but Peter was already nodding and pulling his arm across his shoulders. “Yeah, of course,” he agreed. “You've got it, Prongs.”

“I don’t need—” Remus started to protest, but James interrupted him, lifting his brow. 

“You were literally eating grass a minute ago, Moony.”

“James’ right,” Peter quickly piped up, his face filled with worry. “You’re still pale.”

Remus opened his mouth like he wanted to continue protesting, then closed it with a sigh. “Fine,” he folded. “But only until the Willow. Then I’m walking on my own.” 

Padfoot barked and ran to him as the two started to make their way to the Whomping Willow, brushing past his legs and demanding pets. James happily obliged, not even hiding his joy at being able to tangle his hands in the bright black fur, though it was  now muted with splashes of mud, a clear evidence of their night adventure. Pursing his lips in concentration, James began to untangle a few of the stray branches and leaves in Padfoot’s coat.

“You look like you’ve run through every bush in the Forbidden Forest,” he told him, which earned him a flat look that worked scarily well even in Sirius’ dog form.

“Alright, fair,” James admited, picking off another leaf and tossing it to the side. ”I might have started the whole ‘Let’s see if we can jump over this blueberry bush’ competition, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t make you run through all the mud puddles as well.” 

Sirius blew air out of his nose and shook his head a little, and James chuckled. 

“Oh no, you’re not pushing  that one on me, mister. No mud for this stag, thank you.” 

Padfoot glanced at him, but otherwise stayed silent, though his tail kept wagging. James picked another leaf and a little branch of him, throwing it to the rest on the ground. 

“Still not up to changing back?” he asked after a few moments, voice quiet. 

Padfoot gave a quiet rumble in the answer and pushed his head back into James’ hands.

“Pads, I’m trying to clean you up,” James chided, unable to hide his smile as Sirius refused to relent until James scratched him between the ears again. The moment he did, Padfoot finally stilled, happily closing his eyes as he leaned into his hands.

“You’re unbelievable,” James laughed, the sound fond. Padfoot gave a loud bark as if saying ‘Well obviously’, then tried to lick his hand.

After a few minutes of chasing Padfoot around the forest while he barked and ran, his tail wagging happily, they tracked back to the dorm to put on their new track suit for the Tournament. 

The weight of it was light, the black material clinging to James’ skin and stretching against the muscles of his arms. A vertical white stripe ran at the sides of the short-sleeved t-shirt, except for the right side of the sleeve, which was adorned with dark red instead. The suits had already been on their beds when they came back from the Forest, and if James had to guess, he’d say the house elves deposited them there sometime in the evening. 

“You know, this kind of reminds me of Quidditch,” James said, pulling slightly at the dark material. “With the matching gear. Really does make you realise the competition is for real, you know.” 

In the mirror, he saw how Sirius nodded a little, his gaze sliding to James’ arms before darting away. “It suits you.” 

James stared for a second, caught off guard by the sudden compliment, then smiled wide. “Well yeah, obviously. I keep telling you red is my colour.” 

He turned just in time to see Sirius was holding what looked like a hair tie in his mouth, hands already working on pulling his hair out of the way. 

James watched, as if in a trance, as Sirius twisted the hair into a low bun at the back of his neck, daft fingers carding through dark, raven hair. The corner of Sirius’ lips twitched in displeasure as a few of the dark strands escaped out of his grasp, but he secured the rest, twisting the hair tie around it. 

The sight left James strangely breathless. 

“Done?” he asked, throat suddenly dry.

“Yeah,” Sirius nodded and reached for the black, fingerless gloves he keeps on his bedside table, easily sliding his hands into them, while James forced his eyes not to linger. This is not fair, James thought a little crazily, this is not fair at all. 

“Let’s meet the wonder trio,” Sirius continued and James chuckled, finally pulling his eyes away.

“Don’t let Eriksson hear you,” he told him. “I think he’d have an aneurysm.” 

“He’s just scared of being grouped with Madame Bellegrade,” Sirius smirked. “I bet the butterflies on her hat really got to him.” 

“Can you blame him? Guy looked like his life flashed before his eyes.” 

“...Good point.” 

By the time they were seated at the Gryffindor table in Great Hall, freshly showered and with bruises and scratches covered in soothing salve, the new suit tracks on, James felt the exhaustion settle on him. 

If he was being totally honest, Sirius knocking on the bathroom door before and asking how long he was going to be there had been the only thing that had stopped him from falling asleep right in the shower. 

James pushed the feeling away, forcibly blinking himself awake.

He glanced at Sirius, and though his face was as unassuming as always, James noticed the tension around his eyes and the way he seemed to be blinking slower than normal, as if fighting the sleep as well. 

Peter, of course, was nowhere to be seen, since he slipped into his bed the moment they had opened their dorm door and fell asleep within seconds, filling the room with his familiar snoring. There was no need to keep quiet when he got like that. Honestly, James was sceptical that anything short of Hogwarts Express whistling could wake him up after a night like this. He had no doubt that Remus was doing the same in the infirmary, under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey. 

Normally, they would sneak him in some food from lunch, after he got some much needed sleep, but in twenty minutes the Champions are expected to gather in the Courtyard, to go through some things before the First Task will begin. James wasn’t sure what to imagine under that, but Professor McGonagall was quite strict when she told them to be there on time, two hours before the Task was even supposed to start.

“We can crash somewhere close in a quiet hallway, we still got some time,” Sirius offered suddenly, and James looked up in surprise from his barely touched fried egg. “I’ll make sure no one thinks about bothering you.”

James’ lip quirked up at the barely hidden threat. “Thanks, but it’s okay. If I go to sleep now, I doubt even McGoogs could wake me up. You want to though?”

Sirius shook his head. “I’m fine.” 

James stared at him for another few seconds, considering, then shrugged and returned back to his food. His stomach kept constricting, as if before a big game, but James knew he had to eat at least something. 

“By the way, I've been meaning to ask,” he started after a few quiet moments, pushing the egg on his plate around with his fork as he looked up at Sirius. “That dark thing on the ground yesterday, the one that made you kinda sick by the Willow. What was that?” 

“Oh that .” Sirius' lips twitched as he grimaced. “It was a piece of a robe. From Snivellus.”

James’ eyes widened. “Snape? He was there?”

“Yeah, the scent was still quite fresh too, a few hours at most. I bet he tore it while trying to creep on us.” 

“Merlin,” James sighed. “I thought he stopped doing that.” 

“He thinks we're hiding something. He’ll just continue sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, until he finds something that satisfies him.”

James nodded, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah…Do you think we should tell Moony?”

“You know how sensitive he is about it…” Sirius leaned a little back, thinking. “But yeah. I think so. He should know.”  

James made a noise of agreement and forced himself to eat another bite of the egg. 

“Good luck, Captain!” hollered Lucas Alvarez after them when he noticed them leaving ten minutes later, the few members of the Quidditch team that were sitting nearby also joining in. 

“Kick their asses, you two!” Gideon Prewett called out with a grin as they were passing through the door, lifting a fist in the air. He was already dressed in Gryffindor colours, his cheeks painted with bright red and orange stripes, the colours clashing violently with his red hair. 

“You know it!” James called back with a laugh while Sirius smirked. 

They walked to the courtyard, moving past a group of loudly exclaiming second-years who were huddled around a boy of about the same age with blond hair. 

“So you wouldn’t throw your name into the fire even if you were older, Gilderoy?” one of them asked bewilderedly, “I thought you said the Tournament was ‘easy’.” 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” the one James had just identified as Gilderoy Lockhart replied, his loud laugh echoing a little around the hall as he tilted his head up. “It would not be fair to others. They would have no chance to win. I would rather focus on more important business, like establishing the school’s newspaper.” 

Sirius scoffed and Lockhart finally seemed to notice them, his face blanching so quickly it was comical. 

“I  — what  — I must  — go, now . Bathroom. Bye.”

James chuckled as he watched him tail it out of there as if he had Incendio cast on his back, the second-years staring at him in surprise. 

“So much for being brave enough to enter the Tournament,” he smirked and hit Sirius lightly on the shoulder with his first. “One look from you and it looked like he peed into his pants a little.”

Sirius glanced at him with a self-assured smirk. “As he should.” 

When they made it to the courtyard, all the Champions were already there, save for Apolline. 

They exchanged quick greetings, Theo sending them a slightly nervous smile and Clarisse Toussaint giving them a friendly nod. Bokorova’s eyes only swept past them, her expression closed off, which James thought might have been for the best. Better than the open hostility from last time.

As they stood there for a moment, making idle talk, James noticed that while all the pairs had the same black gear on, they weren’t all identical. The white colour was the same, but the Beauxbatons team has a blue stripe on their sleeve instead of the red Sirius and he were sporting, and Theo’s sleeve revealed that Durmstrang was given yellow, the colour of the double-headed eagle of their school crest. 

“Sorry sorry! I’m here,” Apolline rushed in, fingers quickly working to tier her silvery hair up with a pink ribbon. “This group of guys just wouldn’t leave me alone. Am I too late? Were they already here?”

“Not yet, not yet. Don’t worry.” Clarisse assured her, motioning with her hands up and down to help her calm down.   

“Someone is coming,” Lenci Bokorova said curtly after a moment, gazing somewhere behind them. The group turned, the figure of Mrs McGonagall coming into view, the dark green pointy hat on her tightly pulled  hair swaying slightly with each step. 

“Good, you’re all already here,” she said when came in closer, her stern eyes stopping on each champion. “I’m glad you’ve gathered here on time.”

She glanced at him and Sirius as she said that, which James thought was highly unfair. Lateness, among all their transgressions against the school code, was not something they were often guilty of.

Professor McGonagall looked over all of them once more, something in her face pulled tight. James would almost say she looked a bit nervous.

Suddenly, he was reminded of his talk with Sirius at the beginning of the year, right before they found out about the Tournament. Dumbledore announced the Tournament late, well after the Welcoming Feast, seemingly out of the blue. ‘Something must have changed’ Sirius had said then, and the look on McGonagall’s face makes James wonder if she knew what.

“Please follow me,” she finally said. “I will lead you to the Waiting tent.” 

They fell into step behind her, moving past the courtyard and towards the Suspension Bridge, the wooden planks creaking slightly under each step. They walked through the North Courtyard near the Astronomy Tower and down the stone steps leading out of the castle, autumn wind biting into their skin.

As they continued to walk down, the clear cut stairs gave away to spaced slabs of rock intertwined with grass and wildflowers. The sky above them was light blue, with only a few white and grey clouds gently pushed across the sea of blue by the wind. 

The hilly path they were on turned downward heading towards the Forest, and James glanced to the left, where they had a clear view of the newly built tribunes below them. Only some of the seats were already claimed, with most students still at the Castle but the place seemed to be slowly filling up.

James spotted the light blues of Beauxbatons and furs and yellows of the Durmstrang Academy, as well as the multiple house colours of Hogwarts - the red being most prominent, no doubt because both champions are from Gryffindor. Some groups of students were even sitting on the grass of the pitch, drafting what appears to be huge signs. James noticed Pandora Sideris among them, pointing as something with a large paintbrush in hand, blue paint dripping down her arm.

On the left side of the oval arena, Professor Flitwick and Professor Kettleburn seemed to be setting up what looked like an enormous white bedsheet, levitating it upwards with their wands. 

Professor McGonagall led them to a large tent not far from the tribune, just by the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“We’re here,” she announced, then moved with a few brisk steps to hold the side of the tent up. When they entered, James realised the tent was already occupied. The three headmasters were there, as well as some people he didn’t recognise. As he looked around, Madame Bellegrade gave her girls a graceful wave, her lips pulling into a quick smile that the girls happily returned. 

“Welcome, champions,” Dumbledore turned to them from where he was talking to someone, his long white beard swaying with the motion. He was dressed in vibrant orange robes with strange green patterns, reminding James of twisted snakes. 

“I would like you all to meet the Minister for Magic, Harold Minchum.” 

He moved to the side and the figure he had been talking to before finally came into view, Minchum’s pale eyes staring back at them as he inclined his head in greeting.

The sight of him reminded James of his picture in the Daily Prophet from when the Tournament was officially announced to the public. He looked even more tired now than then, the skin under his eyes dark. 

“It is good to see you all,” he declared. “I came to wish you luck. Your bravery for entering this competition is something to be admired and I know you will make your schools proud.” 

With that he turned to Dumbledore, “I will go ahead to the tribunes now.” 

Dumbledore gave a small nod while Madame Bellegrade moved to sit cross-legged on a chair in the corner, complaining under her breath about her heels. She was dressed as extravagantly as ever in a silver and blue dress with a large wide brimmed hat that appeared to be decorated with fish scales on one side. They glittered under the light of the candles in the tent, though far too brightly to be just natural. There was no doubt in James’ mind they’d been enchanted, casting blue, pink and purple shades on the side of the tent behind her. 

“There is also someone else I want you to meet. Mr. Ollivander, our expert at wandmaking and Mr. Sebastian Kirling, the chosen representative from the Ministry’s department of Magical Games and Sports.”

Sebastian Kirling waved his hand at them with excitement, rocking slightly onto the back of his heels while Mr. Ollivander stared at them all, old eyes unblinking under his white eyebrows. James remembered him from Diagon Alley, when he first went to get his wand. Though the hair on his head was maybe a tad bit whiter than it was before, the strength of his unmoving gaze was the same.

“Mr. Ollivander is here to check that all of your wands are in pristine condition for the Tournament. I apologise it is so close to the task itself, but Mr. Ollivander was away on  business, and there simply isn’t a wandmaker in Britain I would trust more than him with the task.” 

The Wand Weighting happened quickly, Mr. Ollivander not wasting any time and requesting each pair to present him his wands. After examining the cores and checking them for any problems, he quickly bid his goodbyes to the headmasters, his gaze sweeping past the champions before he was gone. 

“Now Mr. Kirling,” Dumbledore said, gesturing lightly to the other wizard. “If you could tell our champions something about those new machines of yours…”

“Certainly,” Mr. Kirling agreed, standing up from the stool he had been sitting on for the last fifteen minutes or so. He righted his large cloak as he came forward, excitedly clasping his hands together, the multiple bracelets on his hands jiggling loudly.

”The whole Tournament will be monitored both for your safety and for the spectators. It will be projected onto the canvas set up here by the tribunes, with the help of these floating devices.” 

He flicked his wands towards the truck he had set beside his stool and with a quiet click a side of it fell open, three balls with little translucent wings flying out of it. Clarisse Toussaint gasped a little in surprise, her eyes widening. At the reaction, Kirling’s lips split into an excited grin.

“These are our newest devices used for international Quidditch matches. They work wonders if I can say so myself. I call them Winglings, though it’s not the official name, they’re still being tested you see, but I really do think we’re onto something here, even if they’re quite fragile and simple protective incantations disable them -”

“That is enough, Mr. Kirling. Thank you.” Dumbledore interrupted his excited rambling, and the wizard deflated a little, but nodded. 

“Of course, Dumbledore, my apologies. They are simply fascinating little things.” 

“I more than understand, Mr. Kirling, and I would be eager to discuss them with you at a later date, when the champions are not creating holes in the floor with how long they’ve been standing here.” 

“Yes, yes. Of course. Ah, and one last thing. Don’t worry if any of them stop working or if they lose you. They have no influence over whether you will move up to the next round or not. They’re only here to make the Tournament more enjoyable for the audience at the castle.” 

Lenci Bokorova cleared her throat, a line forming between her brows. 

“But what if someone cheats?” 

“Trust me, Miss Bokorova,” Madame Bellegrade smoothly interjected, crossing her hands. “The Tournament is difficult enough that you won’t have time to think about what to do next, much less think about cheating. Not to mention that I can’t even imagine what way someone could cheat in a Tournament like this.”

“That’s right,” Eriksson added evenly, speaking for the first time since they’ve got here. “The only thing that will decide will be your merits.” 

For some reason, Bokorova’s shoulders seemed to tense at his words, but she gave a curt nod and didn't speak up again. 

“That is all then—” Dumbledore started to say after a moment of silence, but he was interrupted. A sudden, shrill voice filtered in from outside, arguing with someone, and in the next moment a blond-haired witch was forging her path into the tent, followed by the displeased face of Professor McGonagall. 

“Finally! I’ve been trying to persuade people for hours to let me here! We can’t just have the great Tournament reinstated, with such an exciting change to the rules no less, and expect the outside world not to take interest!”

She gave an exaggerated, offended gasp and brought a hand to her chest, her dark red nails a stark contrast against the vibrant green of her clothes. “Depriving them of what’s going on in the Tournament? That would be the worst decision you could make, Dumbledore, and I know you’re familiar with those.” 

She gave a little laugh, while Dumbledore’s face twitched ever so slightly. “I’m telling you. People love to read my stories and I know this will be the greatest one yet! They deserve to know what is happening.Especially with the war going on, people need something good to look forward to and the Tournament could offer them so much excitement and thrill.”

“It seems that Miss Rita Skeeter did arrive on time after all,” Dumbledore said, exchanging a loaded look with Professor McGonagall, before he turned his attention to Rita Skeeter with obvious displeasure. “I thought you had trouble with transportation, Miss Skeeter. The Daily Prophet informed us you wouldn’t be able to make the First task.” 

“That is correct, but fortunately I can be very resourceful. You should know that.”  

She smiled and James couldn’t help but think Rita Skeeter looked exactly like someone he would love to avoid for the rest of his life. Her hair was styled into stiff blond curls, her inquisitive eyes hidden behind the most ridiculous glasses he’d ever seen, their rectangular edges laid with rhinestones. Her lips were lined with bright scarlet colour and stretched all wrong around her smile, too wide and bright to be truly genuine.

“Since I’m here already, I’m sure you won’t mind doing the interviews and pictures now won’t you? It was promised to the Daily Prophet after all.” 

“I am well aware, Miss Skeeter.” 

“Oh I’m sure. I simply want everyone to know the importance of my work here, it is for the good of the wizardkind afterall. My narratives about you will be all over England, my dears, so make sure to make nice with me,” she said in a light singing voice, then laughed again, as if it had been a joke, her glinting eyes betraying it was anything but. 

Unsurprisingly, James felt his disdain for her grow even more, and from the quick look he casts around the champion tent, he wasn’t the only one.

Apolline’s usually polite expression was hanging by a thread and Clarisse’s smile looked all sorts of twitchy, while Lenci Bokorova and Sirius were sporting matching frowns. Theo noticed him looking and gave James a nervous smile, though James noticed his hands were slightly shaking. 

James frowned and moves closer to ask if he was alright, but Rita was already loudly clapping her hands, pulling the attention of everyone in the room to her. 

“Now I was thinking some group pictures now, then interviews right after?”

“What about the First Task?” Bokorova asked. It would have been hard to miss her icy expression, yet Rita Skeeter didn’t falter in the slightest and her bright red lips pulled apart again into a bright smile.

“No need to be so worried, there’s still plenty of time before we start. I was promised almost a full hour with all of you after all! Now, Eddie, quick, prepare the camera.” 

The man who was quietly standing behind her the whole time — Eddie — took the old camera from his shoulder and started to tinker with it, then gave Rita a thumbs up, which made her perk up.

“Please all gather right here, without the headmasters if you can, yes, brilliant. The pairs together! And try to smile wide!” 

A cloud of purple smoke puffed out with each flash of the camera, the light almost blinding. James’ eyes, already dry from the lack of sleep, started to sting even more from all the smoke, the tent growing slightly hazy with it.

Rita kept telling them to move with almost every picture, her lips pursed critically as she first put them two in the centre, then Apolline and Clarisse Toussaint, then changed it again.

“Almost good, almost good…” she muttered, then continued, louder.  “But it’s still missing something, don’t you think Eddie?”

Eddie peeked out from the curtain around the camera, the expression on his face impassive. James was starting to believe he filtered out about ninety percent of whatever Rita is saying. Not that it seems to matter, as Rita didn’t look to be interested in his answer in the slightest, immediately picking up with her own answer without taking a breath.

“Of course it’s missing something! Miss Verville, can I call you Apolline? It’s a very pretty name, just like you! Please move more to the front, we need to capture all that beauty up close after all. The readers will absolutely love it!” 

“On my own?” Apolline asked, shooting an unsure glance towards Clarisse.  

“Yes, quickly!” 

Apolline moved, sending the camera a polite, if a bit stiff smile. The flash went off, another cloud of violet filling the tent, but before it even had the chance to properly disperse, Rita was already shaking her head. 

“No it’s still…” she frowned a little, her prickly eyes moving across all of them before stopping on Sirius. With sudden renewed glint in her eyes, she snapped her fingers, her face clearing up. “Yes! We need a story with the picture too! Mr. Black, of course, or formerly at least, am I right?” She chuckled a little, putting her hand on her chest.

“Well, Mr. Black — or can I call you Sirius?”

“No.”

“—Ah. Well. Alright.” 

James took probably too much satisfaction in the way she faltered for a second, her facade slipping before it was back on. 

“Mr. Black then,” she continued. “Move here please, right next to Apolline.” 

She turned her expectant gaze to him, but Sirius stayed still. 

“Why?” 

“Why?” She repeated in a higher voice, obviously caught off guard. James doubted she was used to people questioning her. “Well, because I’m telling you to.” 

“James is my team mate, I’m not moving.” 

“I’m simply trying to get a decent picture, my dear. I’m the professional here after all, you should listen to me.”

Sirius levelled her with a look, the grey of his eyes sharp. “You’ve already been photographing us for thirty minutes. If you couldn’t get a decent picture until now, I doubt we’re the problem.”

“Then”— she blinked a little in a rapid session — “Mr. Potter?”

James thought he heard something like a muffled chuckle from the side where Professor McGonagall was standing with headmaster Eriksson.   

“No thanks,” James sent her a smile, enjoying the way her eye twitched. “I’m good here.” 

“One last picture then,” she tried again, forcing another wide smile.  “Eddie? Eddie! Pay attention, my dear! Good. Take it just how they stand. It’s better to have the teams paired up anyway.” 

Last cloud of purple emerged, and then Rita clapped her hands together, her previous energy returning.

“Glad to have that out of the way. Eddie, take five. We will start with the interviews now…” her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at them as if tracking her next prey, the wide smile  firmly back on her lips. James was starting to think she painted it on every morning. 

Next to them, Apolline started coughing from all the purple smoke around. Rita grimaced a little, her eyes moving from Clarisse and Apolline to Bokorova and Theo next to them. 

“We will start with you, the Dueling prodigy. Readers are gonna love that. And then you, of course,” she glances at Theo, eyes glinting, “what a nice contrasting pair.” 

“Is this really necessary?” Lenci Bokorova asked, unimpressed, but Rita only waved it away, chuckling a little.

“Well of course . The readers want to know everything about you. Who would I be to go against their wish?”

She tucked a hand into her crocodile-skin bag and fished out a long squill, at least double than the size of a normal one, the colour acid bright green, similar to her dress. She moved as if to put the tip of the quill into her mouth, then stopped.

“No, this simply won’t do, Dumbledore. There’re too many distractions here for my quill, I won’t be able to work in these conditions.” She pursed her lips. “Surely you could give us some privacy?” 

James had a feeling Dumbledore had to suppress a resigned sigh. He turned to the other headmasters, and Madame Bellegrade gave a gratuitous nod. “We need to leave anyway to take care of all the last preparations after all.” 

Headmaster Eriksson quickly agreed as well, as if he couldn’t wait until he was out of here. James sympathised. 

“Very well. We will give you the privacy, since you ask for it. As for the other pairs, they can wait outside of the tent for their turn,” Dumbledore decided. “Is that satisfactory enough, Miss Skeeter?”

“Yes, excellent, Dumbledore.”

“I will remind you however, that you have only about fifteen minutes left to interview all of them. Professor McGonagall will oversee that you won’t go over the agreed time as the competition will be starting soon.”

A muscle in Rita’s face twitched even as the smile stayed on. “Certainly.”

They moved out of the tent, Lenci Bokorova and Theo staying behind. 

Eriksson looked relieved to be finally out of her reach, muttering something in what sounded like Swedish as he walked away, while Madame Bellegrade continued lightly conversing with Dumbledore as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, their figures slowly trailing away from sight. 

The last thing James heard before the cloth fell shut behind them is Rita Skeeter’s voice, dripping with acidic sugar.

“It’s a shame you have that nasty scar on your face though, isn’t it, dear? I wonder how you got it, you simply must tell me.”

“...What?”

“Now don’t be shy, I know a good story when I see one and you, young man, I’ve heard so much about you - ah, yes, thank you, Eddie. Muffliato —” 

James exchanges an incredulous look with Sirius.

“Light, did she really just ask that?” Apolline whispered in shock, the last remains of politeness on her face fading away to horror. 

“Let’s not listen to her, she’s just trying to get under our skin,” Clarisse told her, gently touching her elbow to make Apolline look at her. “ Elle est cinglée.” 

Apolline huffed out a startled laugh, while Clarisse glanced at them, sending them an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I said that she’s crazy.”

“Agreed,” Sirius mumbled with a scoff and long look towards the tent. Apolline smiled a little, though she still looked a little shaken.

James nodded as well as he leaned his weight against a nearby pole, the wound on his shoulder from last night stinging with dull pain. “Thanks, but the translation’s only partially needed, Sirius here can speak French too.” 

“C’est vrai? ” Apolline turns to him with a small gasp, eyes shining with excitement. Clarisse startles as well. “That is amazing! Where did you learn?”

“My family has some ties to it, I’ve learned it since I was young,” Sirius explained in French, then switches back to English, “I don’t get to practise it much though.” 

“It feels so nice to hear someone else speak it here!” Apolline exclaimed, her eyes shining. “I haven't realised at first since I was so excited, but it does get a bit lonely here.”

“Do other students not talk to you?” James asked, frowning a little. 

“Ah, nothing real. It’s all very…superficial. There’re some people always wanting to be seen with us, but they’re not friends. That part at least is similar to home.”

She pursed her lips a little, then turned her dark blue eyes to them, silver blond hair swaying lightly with the movement. “It’s nice to talk to you two, though.”

“I know, we’re a delight,” James said with a wide smirk, and Apolline gave a startled chuckle.  

The sun was already quite far on its way up, the rays warming their backs as they wait. After another few minutes, the side of the tent opened, stunned Theo stumbling out with Bokorova behind him, both of their faces grim. 

“What in Merlin’s—” James cursed to himself then reached out to stop them in their tracks. 

“What the hell happened inside?”

“She’s like a snake,” Bokorova gritted out, her voice still curt, but somehow sounding almost shaky. She was holding her back ramrod straight, her teeth clenched together. Theo next to her looks even more stricken, his face pale and head downturned. 

“I’m fine,” he waved it off with a fragile smile when they turned to him. “I just think I need to sit down for a moment.” 

“Are you sure?” Clarisse asked softly and Theo nodded.

“Yeah, I just, didn’t expect her to know so much.” 

The side of the tent moved and Rita Skeeter poked her head out, white teeth shining between the blood red of her lipstick. “Jame— I mean, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black,” she corrected herself, moving up her green glasses, her eyes glinting eagerly. “Please come on in.”