Chapter 1
James Potter was not the one to make resolutions. He knew it was expected – to be more reasonable now that he was seventeen and the letter from Hogwarts informed that he was appointed a Head Boy, when during the summer he was more and more aware of just how much older and more fragile his parents were. But maturing was a process, and it still was his last year at school. Last opportunity to roam the territory as Prongs with Moony and Wormtail, last Inter-House Quiddich Cup to win, last chance to make Lily Evans notice that he was not only an arrogant golden boy who got away with almost everything…
If universe wanted James to admit he’s an adult now with all the appropriate complications, Triwizard Tournament news were not the way to show him.
People could tell something was brewing by the telling vague sentences in Daily Prophet about potential big event heading Hogwarts’ way this year. Rumors and reluctant rebuttals filled the prefect compartment when they were heading to school, only making Lily roll her eyes. She’d never believe anything without the solid proof.
And then it happened – in Great Hall, after the Sorting and welcoming feast, when Dumbledore got to his feet and his deep voice echoed around, declaring that this year Quidditch was cancelled in favor of Triwizard Tournament, reinstated after two hundred years of pause due to the death toll among champions and spectators. Delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were to arrive in October, then the champions would be chosen by the Goblet of Fire.
And there James was, leaving Gryffindor table on numb legs, fervently buzzing crowd moved away into blurry background. An image, colorful and clear, shone in his mind. He, standing on the ground like after the Quiddich Cup, out of breath, no doubt battered after whatever horrors organizers arranged for champions to conquer but standing straight, exhilarated, raising the Triwizard Cup high above his head. Applauds, cheering, his mother and father are beaming proudly - and Lily Evans in front row, finally, finally letting the approving smile glow on her face…
“James, you’re walking into a wall.” Remus said amusedly over his ear, gently steering James by the elbow towards the passage.
“I think I’d enter.” Peter said, looking back at them. “I mean – maybe they don’t need best O.W.L.s? You never know…”
“I certainly won’t.” Remus said when they stopped in the turn of the stairs to let the group of noisy sixth years forward. “I doubt the Goblet of Fire will accept someone like me.” His lips pressed in bitter thin smile.
“Moony, this is stupid.” James said a little louder than he intended, startling the nuns on the painting they were passing. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
They were over this thousand times already, and James understood how few Hogwarts students and their parents would agree if they knew, he wasn’t that thick. It was just that they all could go to hell with this hatred of someone who had irreversible thing happened to him, while Dark Arts lovers and pureblood fanatics were given voice and respect.
Remus shook his head at his indignation, even though his face softened. “Okay, let’s say I’m chosen. Being champion means a hell lot of attention. Daily Prophet reporters will just combust when they dig into this scoop, and then I can say goodbye to finishing Hogwarts.”
The warm thrill in James’ chest went ten degrees down. He wanted to argue, to point out that Dumbledore would not let the secret slip – but he knew that was something he could not promise.
Anticipation subdued after a week or two into school routine, and even without Quiddich James had his hands full with N.E.W.Ts levels of homework, Head Boy patrols, full moon ventures and Snape’s personal mission to curse James first and not get the rebound. But the rumors, predictions and betting polls came back tenfold with announcement of foreign visitors arriving in the evening of Hallows' Eve.
Standing in seventh row of Gryffindor group before the castle, breathing in chilly twilight air, James was even amused by how well he pretended to be calm and too old for all this, when inside he was almost as ecstatic as loud first years in the front who wouldn’t stop guessing if other schools will arrive on dragons. It was starting at last, new challenge, new dare, he had to hold up just a day and he could find out if he stood a chance. Lily and Remus could tell, James saw by the way he half-smiled and she half-sighed at the rhythm James’ fingers were drumming over his hip, and Peter was in the same state of blissful agitation, hardly keeping himself still.
Both delegations put a good show of their arrival. Lily and Mary didn’t even hide admiration of golden winged horses that carried Beauxbatons carriage, but truth be told, James was more impressed by Durmstrang ship emerging out of the lake in all its eerie glory. Despite everything he knew about the school itself, it still felt more exciting, more rewarding than travel inside luxurious and cozy carriage, to be on deck of this construction, steer it trough storms above and threats below in pitch dark deep…
Great Hall was decorated even more lavishly than usual, with flags of houses covering the walls in addition to traditional Halloween pumpkins over the tables. It was easy to spot guests by their robes of different colors, blue Beauxbatons silk among Ravenclaws and red-brown of Durmstrang students who had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Heads of both schools were sitting at the teacher’s table – on Dumbledore’s right was tall and stern woman with thick grey plait - Ivanka Gregorovitch, Durmstrang Headmistress. On his left took a seat Beauxbaton’ headmaster Monsieur Delacour, elegant wizard with pale-golden hair.
“I think there are about twelve students in each delegation.” Lily said, glancing over the hall. James turned to count Durmstrang students and saw Snape glaring at him with scalding hatred. James was supposed to be better at being reasonable, but honestly the loathing was mutual, and so he grinned at Snape with all nastiness he could pull off, and was about to turn away but lingered. Near Snape were Mulciber and Avery, bending forward to speak to those Durmstrang students who were the closest.
“You should know that not all in Hogwarts are as stupid and lenient with Mudbloods as Dumbledore.” Mulciber talked, almost not lowering his voice. “We’re not taught Dark Arts, but it does not mean we don’t study them…”
James felt anger flare up in the chest. He hated that Mulciber wasn’t lying, he, Avery and Snape knew their share of sick maiming spells and used them, but he didn’t have brains to realize that bragging would not work with someone from Durmstrang, far more practiced in anything he tried. James was proven right - the student that Mulciber tried to engage in conversation gave a contemptuous scoff and turned away.
Slightly smirking at their defeat, James looked the Durmstrang visitor a little closer; he deserved attention at least for putting Mulciber and Avery in their place. Dark hair fell on his eyes with careless elegance, and arrogance didn’t spoil the handsome face. James had an oddest feeling that he recognized those features, even though Durmstrang student did not resemble anyone in Hogwarts. When stranger looked up and saw James watching him, his gray eyes weren’t sneering or cold, rather – appraising. Pleasant warm shiver made James fidget.
On his left Remus cleared his throat and James jolted, tearing his attention away from Slytherin table. Remus pointed at Filch, who was approaching the teacher’s table carrying large bleak-golden chest with silhouettes of three wizards on the front. Dumbledore stood up to take it.
Conversations broke and everyone went silent, watching Dumbledore in rapt attention. Headmaster tapped the lid with his wand and when it slowly opened, reached inside to pull out large, rough wooden Goblet of Fire crowned with blue flames.
“Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to put their name into the goblet.” Dumbledore said. “And once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. Please be very sure before you enter.”
James felt as if he stopped breathing. The Goblet felt ancient, it was there at the first Tournament, has chosen dozens of names for glory and for death, tomorrow James will add his name, too. It was not that he wanted to end up in history books or contemporary papers – he just wanted to try and reach this victory, get this high, elation always familiar and always brand new.
“Dumbledore insisted that you can’t change your mind once Goblet has chosen you.” Remus said, tugging James by the sleeve when they were heading to the exit. “James, I just hope you’ve thought this trough.”
“If James will be Hogwarts champion, Merlin help us all.” Lily chuckled, and James clutched his chest, pretending to be wounded right in the heart. He fell backwards on the hands of laughing Remus and Peter, Mary joined them and Lily shook her head but almost smiled too.
Durmstrang students were walking out before them, probably heading back to the ship. James glanced over the group, trying to guess who of them is going to be Hogwarts rival. His gaze stopped on the student who rebuffed Mulciber during the feast. Other Durmstrang students regarded James’ pantomime with disdain that matched Slytherins whose table they were passing - but this one was closer to entertained.
“I knew he’d be stuck up. That family thinks mighty of themselves.” James heard Avery loudly hissing behind them. “But a cousin of Madame Lestrange can’t be a mudblood –protector.”
James felt like struck by Stunning Spell. How could he forget where he saw before the similar beautiful and haughty features, jet black hair, regal posture?
A photo in Daily Prophet under an article about vicious attack on muggle family that shown Bellatrix Lestrange, born Black. Cleared of all charges despite the fact that victims recognized her and aurors caught her and her husband leaving the scene of the crime. The article waxed poetics about exemplary pureblood traditions of Noble and most ancient house Black, and mentioned heir of the family Sirius and his younger brother Regulus sent to study abroad.
Sirius Black’ face froze, his eyes turned steel sharp when he took in James’ expression. Not saying a word, he pushed away from them out of Great Hall.
Yet uneasy feeling after this couldn’t set firm, couldn’t sting James for long. He roped Remus and Peter into staying in the entrance hall after the feast, loitering from wall to wall until he could watch how the Goblet was placed in the center of the hall by three heads of the schools and Hogwarts caretaker. Noticing them, Filch lost it and demanded that Dumbledore ‘made Potter and his gang leave to bed until they steal the Goblet’. James almost felt sorry for him, especially because he didn’t really think prank like nicking the Goblet was possible, he just wanted to see it settled, make sure again he wasn’t making it all up.
It felt as if James didn’t sleep at all, but he felt invigorated. Time before breakfast he devoted to convincing all seventeen year old Gryffindors to enter the Tournament, before Lily dragged him downstairs. But efforts were not spent in vain, after all, because when they returned to entrance hall after breakfast and James sat down on the stairs to write his name on the piece of parchment, he was joined not only by Peter, but by Caitlin McLaggen and Aidan Spinnet from sixth year. Yet they had to wait, however, because Durmstrang students came to put their names, straight row led by headmistress Gregorowitch.
Sirius Black was the first to put his name. Blue fire gleamed red, taking his parchment, lighting up his impassive face. Black turned back and walked away, not waiting for others and looking like he could not be less interested in what just occurred. His eyes grazed over James, who was sitting with his knees raised high, parchment pressed to the spellbook cover, and Black huffed.
“It better not be you.” James called after him, lips stretched in his worst grin. “I’d hate to compete with pompous git.”
Black looked back over his shoulder, scoffing almost like yesterday, at Mulciber.
“It better not be you.” he answered, with lightest tint of accent. “I’d be embarrassed to compete with infantile berk.”
Words were laced with poison, and yet James chuckled under his breath. But he had no wish to dwell on this, because when finally Durmstrang students finished and left, and he walked towards the Goblet, Lily Evans stepped shoulder to shoulder to him, eyes fiery, parchment with the name in her hand. James half-bowed, letting her forward.
It didn’t feel strange or special, when James reached to drop his name, momentarily red flames touched his fingers like a wave of warmth. But it felt like the warmth stayed with him all following day, still curled on his fingertips in the evening, when they were sitting in Great Hall, and The Goblet of Fire had been placed in front of Dumbledore’s chair. With candles extinguished, blue flames shone mesmerizingly bright. And then fire flashed red, and with a shot of sparks let out a charred piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught it and squinted in again-blue light of Goblet.
“The champion for Durmstrang,” Dumbledore read into enraptured silence, “will be Sirius Black.”
James held his breath and almost felt goosebumps break on his skin, as if it was his name that was called. He knew it would be him, James couldn’t tell where did it come from but he knew. Black stood up from his place at Slytherin table, graceful and proud, and walked towards the back chamber Dumbledore pointed. He wore most dispassionate expression imaginable, not a hint of smile, not even victorious sneer. Strange was that Slytherins applauded him louder than his own classmates, even Mulciber, Snape and Avery. The only one genuinely pleased Durmstrang student was the one who looked vaguely like Sirius Black, but younger, it must have been Regulus.
Next name from Goblet was champion for Beauxbatons, Pauline Maxime, and she was cheered much louder by her peers and headmaster. James watched as she vanished into the back chamber, slight olive-skinned girl with shiny black hair, and everything felt too clear, every moment magnified. When the Goblet glowed red for the third time, even breathing felt sharp. James felt heartbeat thrumming under his skin. If anyone asked and he could only tell the truth, he’d say that it should be Lily Evans, but he wanted it to be --
“The Hogwarts champion,” Dumbledore called, “is James Potter!”
For the first second James heard nothing, whole body suddenly so light he thought he’d could float on spot – and then all Gryffindor table boomed with applause and cheering, far louder than James honestly expected. Peter was shouting right into his ear so James was sure he’d went temporarily deaf, and he still felt Remus’ tight hug when he stood up to walk to the back chamber. The expressions on Slytherins’ faces were a treat of its own, but James forgot all about them the moment he saw clapping Lily smiling at him, little but real smile, even though she rolled her eyes when he looked at her.
Buzzing of Gryffindor roaring cheer was still zipping through him when the door of back chamber closed behind James. Pauline Maxime and Sirius Black were standing by the fire facing the door, and when he entered, Pauline politely nodded in greeting, while Sirius Black crookedly smiled, turning away.
“Of course.” he said with airy derision. “And here I thought this Tournament was not hopeless.”
Right now everything James heard and see could only make him feel better. So he smiled brightly, putting his hands on his hips.
“Save your tears, Black, it’s only the start. In joy and sorrow, we’re bind by Goblet of Fire.”