CHAPTER VIII

James wasn’t proud of it but within the first five minutes of watching the Tournament, he couldn’t really keep his eyes open.

It had been a long day, and he hadn't slept for what was starting to feel like ages. It had not even been two full days, James thought and inwardly cursed at his own weakness. Still, as the last remains of adrenaline slowly left his body, the steady flow of energy that has kept him going spluttered, each movement of his eyelids getting heavier and heavier. For a moment, the simple task of looking suddenly seemed unreachable. 

“—the Durmstrang champions are finally moving forward to try again after the last failed attempt, maybe this time they actually agreed on a plan? Bokorova is once more heading to the left side of the camp but it seems that Theo Cinege has his own mind and isn’t going to wait this time—”

The announcer’s loud amplified voice continued to boom in his ears but it seemed almost distant, like hearing the sound from underwater, the muffled commentary mixing with the cheers around them.

James scrunched up his nose a little at the sound, annoyed. The words washed over him but they weren’t words that made any sense, only noise, empty of any meaning. He blinked, then again. 

There was a pain blooming between his temples, matching the quiet but dull ache in his shoulder and James would have loved to just fall onto his bed and pull the covers high over himself until only his eyes and hair were peeking out. 

But…right here wasn’t so bad either. The constant noise was annoying, and way too loud, but he was also pleasantly warm, soft.

It was…nice. 

Between the next movement of his eyes, he realised the comfortable, warm weight to his right was actually there because he’d been leaning against someone.

James felt the corner of his lips quirk up as his eyes fell shut again.

“Sirius?”  

“Hm?”

Sirius’ body vibrated a little with the sound, slightly hostling James’ head. 

“You’d be an amazing pillow in your next life,” James murmured into his shoulder, smile widening. “Did I ever tell you that?” 

There was a huff of breath from above him, and James didn’t have to have his eyes open to know that the expression on Sirius’ face was amused. 

“Too often,” Sirius responded, with the air of someone who had suffered and knew it was coming again. “One too many and I might get offended you think I’m better off as just a thoughtless object.”  

“Hmm, never,” James hummed, borrowing a little closer. Sirius seemed to still a little, then promptly relaxed again. 

Barely a moment later, there was a collective gasp around them, then clapping. James’ eyes slowly fluttered open. Right, he thought, still a little dazed, the Tournament is still happening. 

With larger effort than it should have taken, he forced his eyes to stay open, blinking rapidly to chase the exhaustion away. He was suddenly glad that they were already sitting.  

Something green moved at the corner of his vision and James followed it, his gaze falling onto Rita Skeeter. No doubt, she’d stick out like a sore thumb even among the sea of Slytherins, but the venomous colour of her clothes was even starker compared to the blue of Beauxbatons students surrounding her.

The quill she had used in the tent wasn’t floating next to her this time and was instead held firmly in her hand as she rapidly scribbled onto a rolled piece of parchment. 

Her attention was on the projection of the Tournament — or at least it was supposed to look like that. James notices though, how her gaze kept sliding back to them, almost periodically, the quill grasped between her fingers moving only when she glanced over. If she was trying to be secretive, she wasn’t doing a very good job. 

Rita seemed to finally notice him looking, her lips falling apart in surprise, and James lifted his hand, wiggling his fingers with a big smile.

The way she immediately frowned and coloured in poorly concealed fury made it absolutely worth it and a small laugh teared out of his lips. 

He leaned back into his seat, satisfied even as she started scribbling again. Whatever she’d be writing, it was better than her having more free space to talk trash about Sirius and his family. 

“How bad do you think she’s going to grill me in tomorrow’s paper?” James asked with rising amusement, nodding his head towards her when Sirius glanced at him in question. 

Grey eyes followed the motion and then narrowed. Sirius turned his head away. 

“As if her opinion matters.” 

James hummed in agreement. Sirius was right, of course. Her opinion didn’t matter in the slightest, it was just the fact that her words would influence the opinion of most wizards in Britain, one way or another. 

“You know, now I kind of want to sleep for real, just to spite her,” he said finally, grinning. “But alas, I won’t. I want to watch.” 

He shifted a little in his seat, then rolled his slightly injured shoulder until it gave a quiet crack, some of the tension subsiding. 

The motion was still harder to make than it should have been, and James remembered he fell on the rock with that shoulder as well. He should probably check in the dorm if the claws from Remus were still visible or if they could be passed off as an injury he got during the Tournament. If it could, a visit to Madam Pomfrey probably wouldn’t hurt.

An uncommon luxury, as the wounds they tended to collect on their moon adventures could hardly be explained in a way that wouldn’t immediately clue her in. 

Healing the wound sooner would be great, but James didn’t want to get ahead of himself. Either way, it wasn’t too bad, he’d already figured out it only really hurt when he moved his back a certain way or tried to lift his hand.

“Padfoot,” he called out, turning his head to the side. “Don’t you want to rest? You must be tired too. We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”  

He’d like to of course. Saying he wasn’t curious would have been lying, and it felt only right to watch the other teams compete as well, especially with how dangerous it was. Just walking away would feel strange, dismissive of their efforts and any care for their safety. He had no doubt Rita Skeeter would celebrate if they left, putting it into the headlines, but they weren’t required to be here. 

They’d already done their part and had all the rights to rest if they needed to, if they wanted to. If Sirius was too tired, after everything that happened, if he’d rather rest, James wouldn’t hesitate to leave for even a second. 

Sirius didn’t try to deny it, but didn’t agree either, his gaze ahead. He looked as graceful as always, barely a hair out of place, but James knew what to look for, and noticed the slightly slumped-down line of his shoulders, the tenseness in his jaw, the slightly dulled look to the usual sharpness of his eyes. 

“I want to watch it too,” he said after a moment. 

“Alright,” James smiled and lightly knocked into his shoulder with his own. “We can keep each other awake then.” 

Luckily, the Tournament continued on without any major injuries or problems. The Durmstrang champions managed to finish second, even with the absolute lack of cooperation their team had shown. There had been a moment where it almost seemed like they would lose, when Lenci Bokorova had grabbed a large sapphire from the pit and almost started running, but then she stilled and dropped the gem back down and instead grabbed the acorn.

There were loud cheers and celebrations as they made their way back, and before the cheers died down, the Beauxbatons pair made their way towards victory as well, only five minutes behind.

A sliver of disappointment ran across their faces when they had learned they came in third, but the joy of passing the Task seemed stronger, especially when they got surrounded by their loudly celebrating classmates. They were the only ones to leave without alerting the giants to their presence at all, which James had to admit was quite impressive. 

Bokorova seemed to take great pride upon arriving before them, if the look she sent their way above the heads of the praising students around her is any indication, while Theo stood to the side, excitedly talking with Yasen and Bogdan, the former two smiling widely at each other.   

When she noticed him looking, her face soured, then returned back to cold impassiveness.

She did good in the Tournament, all things considered, James thought, it would be best to not underestimate her just because her anger makes her look careless. 

A short congratulatory speech from Dumbledore later – from which James barely remembered a thing if he was being honest – they  were all dismissed, and the student body buzzed with excitement like a swarm of bees as they started to trail off into the castle.

The Second task was scheduled to take place at the beginning of the next year, in the second half of January. This time there was no riddle or clue. All the information would be revealed on the day of the tournament. James was a little disappointed by that. As stressful as it was to find the answer on such a short time limit, it was also incredibly fun. 

As they made their way up, James and Sirius hanged back from the crowd, both not eager to talk right now. 

It was already past noon, and while the sun above them was unobscured with clouds, its strength dulled with the impending arrival of winter. The rays of sunlight were warm, yet tinged with autumn chill. In a few weeks, the last of the leaves around the castle would turn red and yellow before falling as well, right before the cold would start to set in. 

As they walked past the gates most of the students trailed off right into the Great Hall to eat, which meant the stairs to their dorm were blissfully empty. The silence worked wonders for the still growing headache at the back of his mind. 

“Oh my,” the Fat Lady cooed when she saw them. “You look about dead on your feet, dears. Quickly, tell me the password so I can let you in.” 

She started to lean forward to open the passage before Sirius had even gotten to the last syllable of the chosen phrase, which was probably breaking some sort of school rule, but also made James feel highly grateful. 

“Come on, Peter, hurry up or we’ll miss—” Remus startled as they step inside the Common room and the portrait falls shut behind them, his voice cutting off mid-speech. “You’re back! How was it?” 

James made an unintelligible noise that he thought was supposed to be a greeting as he passed by him and Remus turned, staring after them with still wide eyes. 

His legs felt unbelievably heavy. Were the stairs really always so high? It certainly seemed like there was  more of them now. 

“How did it go?” Remus tried again. 

Sirius glanced over his shoulder. 

“We won.” 

With that he turned back around, taking the last few steps up. Remus only blinked after them, looking still too stunned to say anything else. 

“James! Sirius! You’re here,” Peter exclaimed in surprise when the door to their room flew open.

He moved up from his bed, quickly shoving something under his pillow with one hand before he hurried closer to them. His eyes, previously tinged with something akin to panic, grew wide and full of remorse. 

“I’m so sorry, I woke up only a little while ago when Remus came and said it was time go downstairs and eat—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius dismissed and waved his hand as he crossed the room towards his bed. “We need to sleep now, so just be quiet.”

James nodded in agreement, even though Peter wasn’t  really looking at him, then promptly let himself fall face first onto his bed. 

“Alright!” he heard Peter exclaim, his foot loudly pacing on the floor.  “We can talk in the morning then. Or should I wake you for dinner?” 

“If you do, I might curse you,” James told him as he kicked off his shoes and dived under his covers.  He was asleep before Peter even fully closed the door behind him. 

Probably out of a sense of self-preservation, Peter and Remus didn’t disturb them in any way until lunch of the next day when Peter tentatively raised his voice and asked if they wanted to eat anything. 

The words registered slowly as James raised his head, squinting his eyes at the two figures vaguely shaped like his two friends. His first instinct was to go back to sleep, but then his stomach made a sound, and he realised how long it has been since he’d last eaten. 

“Alright,” he sighed in defeat, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he pushed himself up on his bed. “Alright, just a minute.” 

It took more than a minute in the end, mostly because James still felt a bit like a bludger hit him to the side of the head — repeatedly — and also because making Sirius leave his bed took a little bit of work. In the end James turned to bribing, promising him he’d play fetch with Padfoot, which seemed to do the trick. For all Sirius could stay awake for however long it took, it sure took a lot of time to get him to wake up when he was still sleep-deprived. 

Peter didn’t seem to be able to contain his excitement as they made their way down the moving stairs, bouncing a little with each step as he spit out question after question about the Tournament, Remus occasionally joining in with his own. 

“You should have seen us, Tail,” James said, recounting yesterday’s events like a thousand year old tale of good and evil. “We were unstoppable! The giants had no idea what was coming. We sneaked close and I lured them away while Sirius snatched the acorn right from under their noses!” 

“Wow,” Peter breathed out, his mouth falling open and Sirius laughed a little. 

“Are you really that impressed? You’re going to catch flies that way, Pete.” 

“I just can’t believe I missed it!” 

“How did you lure them away?” Remus asked from next to him, and James grinned and spined a little to face them, walking backwards.

“By being annoying of course, the giants got so angry they couldn’t stop attacking me. It was a shame really, I got so many good things prepared but I couldn’t get to all of them before they had enough.” 

“And that was… good ?” Peter asked with wide eyes, staring at him. “I would have been so scared! How many of them were there?” 

“Just four.”

“Just?” Peter exclaimed in an incredulous voice. “How is that just?! And what did you take? How did you figure it out?” 

James could feel the way his smile changed, turning to one full of pride as he glanced to his left. 

“Sirius did.” 

Peter turned his wide, star-eyed look to Sirius who gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“The oaks were sacred to them, revered, while the gems were only valuable. It all fell into place..” 

Peter gave a loud sigh. “I wish I was as smart and brave as you two, I would never think of that. Not in a million years.” 

“Ah, you don’t know that, Pete.” James moved to throw his arm around him. “Don’t sell yourself  short.” 

Peter’s face light up with a smile.  “Thanks, Prongs,” he said, bashful, then shook his head a little. “But I’m still pretty sure I’d be lost in this one. Even if I somehow figured out the riddle, the giants would have still gotten me.” 

“Well,” James leaned back, letting his arm fall off Peter’s shoulder as he did so. “It was meant to be difficult on purpose. The giants were no joke.”

“Maybe they would mistake you for a squirrel, with how small you are,” Sirius teased and James coughed into his palm, hiding his laughter at the indignant yelp Peter let out. 

“I’m not that small! It’s not my fault you two are so tall!” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remus added drily and Peter gasped, pointing his finger.

“You’re not that tall either!” 

James rolled his eyes as the two continued to argue, trying his best to suppress a grin. As he turned his head, he realised Sirius was doing the same. 

“What do you think?” James asked as they made it to the open doors of the Great Hall, the loud chatter and clinking of cutlery from inside becoming louder. “How bad is the Prophet going to be?” 

Sirius thought about it for a moment, then turned to him, face impassive.

“I think we’re going to be fugitives.” 

James laughed so hard he almost collided with the door and Sirius grinned wide, obviously pleased.

“You really want to kill me,” James accused, grabbing onto Sirius for support. “This is a problem, you know. I’m too young to die. I’m going to have to complain about you at the highest of places.”

Sirius’ eyes glittered with amusement as he led them towards their usual spot at the table, seemingly content to let James drape all over him. 

“Maybe save that for after we’ve been declared enemies of Great Britain?” he teased. “You wouldn’t survive for long on your own.”

“I would,” James disagreed stubbornly as he untangled himself from Sirius so they could sit down, Peter and Remus snickering at their banter. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

From across the table, Sirius lifted an eyebrow.

“Your cookies made your father sick for two days.”

“I was seven!” 

“And you haven’t gotten any better!”  

“I have!” James protested loudly, but he was enjoying himself too much for the protest to be truly genuine. 

“Really?” Sirius pressed, smirking as he leaned slightly forward. “Give me an example.” 

“Not to interrupt your weird flirting,” Remus interjected. “But James, your owl is here.” 

James didn’t even have time to protest at the comment and quickly jumped up, snatching the small parcel Spooky let out of her claws before it had the chance to ram into the bowl of boiled potatoes on the table.

Spooky set down only a moment later, flying down so fast that her descend ruffled Peter’s blond hair. She’d been getting even more reckless with her flying this year and James was starting to think those new wild owls by the forest had something to do with it.  

He sent her a withering look, but Spooky only cooed, nuzzling a little into his hands as she hopped closer, only narrowly avoiding Remus’ plate with her wing. Remus quickly dragged his plate closer, shooting her a slightly nervous smile.

“What is that box for, hm?” James asked her quietly, scratching at the top of her head. “Did mum and dad send that?” 

Spooky, of course, didn’t answer so James leaned over to open it, then sat back down to look at it properly. 

It turned out that he had been right. The little box was filled with a new knitted scarf and a box of flaming chocolates. On top of it, nestled among the dark red wool of the scarf sat an envelope, the front of it decorated with mom’s familiar elegant handwriting and his father’s horrible chicken scratch.

James chuckled, his grin so wide his cheeks were almost hurting as he opened the letter and narrated the content of it to Sirius who listened quietly, his face attentive even as he kept his gaze slightly to the side. 

There was also a short piece of paper in the envelope of the letter, one that was obviously written very quickly and put with the rest of the things at the last minute. James opened it after reading the letter, something bright humming in his chest at the simple words written on it. 'Congratulations for passing the First Task! We’re so proud of both of you.’

He set it aside and nudges the scarf slightly towards Sirius. “This is yours then, you heard what mum wrote.” James wiggled his finger at him, trying to look stern before it dissolved into a grin. “You have to wear it to not get cold.” 

He glanced at the expectant expression on Remus’ and Peter’s face and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Alright, and I guess we can all share the chocolates after this.” 

Both Remus and Peter brightened considerably, returning to their meals with renewed vigour while Sirius carefully picked up the scarf, his fingers trailing across the stitching for a moment. James tried his best to not look like he was watching him.

The rest of the lunch passed by fast and soon their plates were cleaned, not a crumb in sight.  

“Alright,” Sirius said, turning to Remus. “Show us what that crone wrote.” 

Remus nodded and opened up his folded copy of the Prophet, the one that he got at breakfast. He’d tried to show it to them on the way here, but Sirius was adamant that he was not going to ruin his lunch with Skeeter’s dragonshit. 

“It’s not…pretty,” Remus hesitantly got out and James snorted derisively. 

“Of course it isn’t,” he retorted, and Sirius just held out his hand. 

“Give it here.”  

Remus hesitated, glancing at Peter, then at both of them before he finally handing the paper over. James used the time to get up and walk to the other side of the table, sliding next to Sirius with only a quick ‘Scootch over’ Remus’ way.  

A single look at the Prophet quickly revealed why had Remus kept the newspaper folded for their whole meal. The frontpage of the Daily Prophet was filled with the picture of all the champions, the headline above it printed in bold capital letters. 

‘THE CHAMPIONS OF THE TOURNAMENT: POTTER AND BLACK, HOGWARTS’ CALAMITY AND END?’ by Rita Skeeter. 

James tilted his head slightly to the side, pursuing his lips. “Calamity…Hmm, I kind of like the sound of that.” 

Remus sent him a disbelieving look and James rolled his eyes, then turned back to the paper, skimming the printed text below the picture.  

‘My most dear readers, the Triwizard Tournament was once regarded as one of the most esteemed wizarding competitions, yet it seems this year is a pale parody of the once glorified event. I’ve met with each of these champions individually to bring you the best and most accurate information on the market…’

The rest of the article was broken into smaller sections, though James noticed the section about him and Sirius was almost twice as long as that of the other two pairs combined. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

‘….The pair I spoke to second was that of Hogwarts, consisting of Sirius Black and James Potter, respectively. Both of them are part of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team, with James Potter reigning as captain for the third year in a row. While we were unable to gather any substantial information about his leadership from his teammates, one ravenclaw students claimed that Potter is willing to “drive his own team to death for victory” and that he has been seen multiple times forcing his team to train even in the most ridiculous weatherly conditions.

It seems that Potter is indeed very focused on Quidditch and one might question if he is able to pull his focus to the Triwizard Tournament as well or if another student should have taken his place instead. Luckily for the Hogwarts students, the team seems to be doing well, though one must wonder if it  is because of the merit of the captain or simply the players themselves. 

As for his life outside of sport, another student, this time from Slytherin has also said that Potter frequently disrupts the class with his best friend Black and that they’re known troublemakers with complete disregard to any rules. Another student claimed that they “act like they’re better than everyone else”  and that indeed seems to be the picture that many of their peers agree to. 

While none  of the teachers I’ve reached out to confirm these claims, I have a reason to believe there might be more than a speck of truth to these rumours as whenever I tried to question James Potter about anything, he was very dismissive and prideful. He’d refused my offer to get to know the other champions better and even went as far as to say that my offer was “strange.” As it stands, it is clear the champions are far from friendly with each other, but that is mayhaps to be expected with a competition like this. 

One might of course wonder why the Hogwarts champions are both from the same House  and to some it might even seem a bit suspicious. Were the results of the Cup somehow tempered with? The two boys seemed unconcerned when I raised a question about that, confident in their own abilities, but whether they were speaking the truth or hiding some darker secret at play still remains to be seen.’

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” James voiced with a scoff. “She just all but said she thinks we’ve cheated our way in.” 

Sirius frowned harder. 

‘The second part of the Hogwarts team is of course no one else but Sirius Black, the son of the noble house of Black who – as I’ve already informed you in the months prior – has  quite the turbulent relationship with his parents. When I mentioned them, it was almost as if I could see the flash of his painful past in his eyes.

Though he denied that his parents had anything to do with him entering, it was quite clear to me that he misses his home. Especially at the mention of his brother, Regulus Black, the one who followed his parents faithfully into Slytherin, Sirius Black seemed to grow tense. It really makes me wonder if he would do anything to go back to the way it was. The students we spoke to mentioned he was prone to “violent outbursts” and that at times they’ve seen him measure certain unnamed students with almost a “murderous gaze”. I must wonder if his upbringing is responsible for his sour and combative attitude?

The two boys proved their reputations right after the First task of the Tournament (more about the tournament itself on pages 2-3) when they stayed behind to watch the other two teams finish only to continuously not pay attention to anything but each other. At one point, James Potter even spent a good portion of the Tournament looking like he was seconds away from fully napping.  

The final two Champions, Clarisse Toussaint and Apolline Verville   respectively, have been a bit more forthcoming with their answers  to my inquiries. For those of my readers who are not aware, the lovely Apolline Verville is a part veela, and is equally as bewitching in person as she is in the picture above…’

James felt like had seen enough. 

He leaned back in his seat and then reached out to put his hand on Sirius’ forearm, squeezing slightly. 

“I know you were aware she would say all of that about you and your parents,” he said quietly, trying to catch his gaze, “but I’m still sorry.” 

Sirius’ eyes stayed on him for a moment before he turned away, shrugging.

“It’s fine. I’d rather she wrote about that than all that nonsense about you.” 

James smiled a little, chest filled with a sudden rush of fondness. “Likewise.” 

He squeezed Sirius’ arm for the second time then let go. 

“When describing the First Task,” Remus started hesitantly, eyes flitting between them while Peter watched. “She talked about you two only in one line. That you finished first, that was all.”

“Not that surprising, let’s be honest,” James snorted. “It’s better than spreading some lies about how I tripped and set the whole forest on fire or something.” 

Peter chuckled. “You think she’d do that? Or…something like that?” 

James shakes his head. 

“No. The interview was different, no one else was there and she could twist it however she wanted. The anonymous claims from other students are similar, though I’m sure those were actually real. But the Tournament was seen by the whole school, if she lied there it would be too obvious, she’ll have to be more careful there, only implying instead of just saying.”

Peter nods, satisfied and relieved. “At least that. I’m glad.” 

James didn’t really share those feelings. He  was still thinking about the moment in the tent when Rita kept proding Sirius about his parents, about how no matter what they said or did she still published whatever she wanted…

He  was startled out of his thoughts when Sirius sudenly slammed his hand on the table and stood up, dark hair swaying slightly with the motion. 

“Whatever, let’s not worry about her and the stupid article anymore. She can go die in a ditch for all I care. Let’s get out of here. Do something.” 

“Fine,” James agreed easily, pushing away from the table. There was no need to ask anything else. 

“We wanted to work on the Astrology essay—” Remus started to say, but his hand twitched for his bag under the table, as if he had already made peace with having his plans rearranged, even if he wasn’t particularly happy about it. 

“That’s fine,” Sirius dismissed. “We’ll catch up with you later.” 

“Ah, alright.” 

With a quick smile in their direction, James followed Sirius out, leaving the copy of the Daily Prophet behind. For a moment, everything concerning the Tournament could wait.