Chapter 2
Next morning James woke up lying across his bed, tightly wrapped in Gryffindor banner. The celebration was louder and madder than any Quidditch victory he could remember and involved more firewhiskey than James could hold – especially after he took Remus and Peter through secret passage to Hogsmeade in half past one in the morning to buy more food, butterbeer for younger celebrators who stayed up yet, and liquor. James vaguely remembered being treated to very colorful expletives by Hog’s Head owner, and then almost falling from the stairs twice on their way back to Gryffindor Tower, but judging by where he, Remus and Peter woke up, all went well.
Through wicked headache of oatmeal-pale morning, Lily’s ironic expression and Remus’ swearing off anything produced by Ogden, the one thought still felt clear and bright. He was Hogwarts champion. In following days James tried to get used to it - and couldn’t. It was just not different enough, too close to the pre-Quidditch Cup match agitation, but only a bit off, a bit too much, keeping his skin tickling.
Mom and dad knew even before James could write them, they sent three letters, one from both of them with ardent congratulations, and other two letters from each of them separately – mother was proud and encouraging, and father more worried, every odd sentence asking him to prepare well and take care. And James would try, honestly, if there was anything to prepare for - but the first task set on twenty-four of November was a secret, test of courage and skill in the face of sudden challenge.
So the only circumstances to handle were other students adjusting to champions and picking favorites. Logically James knew that all Gryffindors with no exceptions were openly cheering him in corridors and laughing louder at his escapades only because he was the representative of the House - their pride, their glory. Lily Evans too seemed to let him have his fun judgment-free for a time. But he was buying it either way, basking in this charged support and admiration.
Predictably, Slytherins were even more overt in their hatred. James expected name-calling and hexes in the back, but they found a surprising way to show their loathing. The whole House, it seemed, become adamantly taken to Sirius Black.
It was getting a little amusing, because Black ignored his new admirers completely. He granted no response when Slytherin girls greeted him breathlessly during meals or Slytherin guys shouted that they bet loads of gold on his victory in all three tasks. On the other hand, most of the times James saw him in Great Hall or walking the lakeshore with his brother, Black looked as if everything he saw failed to live up to his expectations, his bored expression had a shade of something grim. It always made James linger, seeping inside with warm and scratching impulse to call after Black, hook him with something and see this handsome face change, crack either by laughter or even anger.
James hasn’t quite managed so far, even though Black acknowledged his existence at least. If James bid him good morning with the first thing that came to mind, a plain phrase a-la “It’s bad for your health to be this gloom and snobby, you know that?”, he could be sure that Black would answer with a dry little grin and moderate amount of venom “It’s worse for my health to have you pester me.” If James failed to notice him or was too distracted, Black could go as far as to raise his eyebrows and inquire with taunting amusement “What, no treasure of wit to share today?”
Pity James had too little time to ponder this twist of rivalry. As professor McGonagall informed him first thing after the Goblet ceremony, his N.E.W.Ts were postponed but not cancelled, so James still had to study his head off. Besides, full moon week started, and Remus needed all his remaining attention.
Naturally, remained that one Slytherin who still hated James, Remus and Peter more than he wanted to smarm up to Durmstrang champion, and it was the morning after the full moon when James had enough of him. He just walked Moony to the hospital wing and was going to grab some toasts for himself and Wormtail when Snape decided to start his day with mutterings about “lunar disease” .
It was not a well-thought decision, especially in Great Hall, but Merlin knew it was satisfying, to Confund Snape hard enough it made him carry a spoon past his mouth whole morning and miss the door on exit. In a sense, James had it coming that afternoon, when he and Peter were heading towards the Hospital Wing with homework, and Snape stepped behind the corner with raised wand.
It was Snape’s favorite cutting non-verbal, and James bled from slashed lips all over the books and parchments. Snape left before Peter or James could try and retaliate, they both feeling frankly too tired. James barely had time to heal the cut when twitchy third year approached them to say that he was expected at the second floor for wand check and Daily Prophet photos. Well, the day was simply getting too great.
They managed to get the blood off the books and conspectus so Peter could go to Remus. James looked himself over in bathroom mirror, made sure he looked more dramatic than faint and headed to act like presentable champion.
The wands checking procedure was short but not without flair, nothing less with Ollivander.
“Mademoiselle Maxime first, of course…” The wandmaker carefully examined her wand, humming. “Ten inches, cypress, and… sphinx hair, yes, controversial choice but sometimes right.” Ollivander couldn’t miss a chance to throw a slight shade at his colleagues abroad, but Pauline smiled proudly at miniature singing nightigale conjured as a test, and honestly James agreed, this core sounded impressive.
“Mr. Black, you next. Oh, I recognize my work. Twelve inches, fir, unicorn hair core… very demanding…” Sirius Black watched his wand in other wizard’s hands with a slight displeasure and collected expression returned only when Ollivander produced northern lights and gave the wand back, satisfied. James watched Black putting the wand away, still a little surprised. What a strange thing - they could have been in Diagon Alley at the same day buying Ollivander’s wands, yet missed each other. What Black was like then, already this closed off and disdainful?
James was in a nostalgic state, and so he gave in to sentimentality and smiled when Ollivander murmured “Ah, yes. Mahogany, eleven inches, phoenix feather. I remember you well, Mr. Potter. ” Sirius Black raised brows at James’ expression, but he could promptly sod off, it was a pleasant memory, when the first wand he tried chose him.
The loud iridescent firework Ollivander made as a check for James’ wand fade away and he already put his bag over his shoulder when agitated man with the black camera hurried into the room and cried “Photos! Photos of the champions!”. Under Dumbledore’s amused gaze James decidedly messed his hair even more, and whatever Pauline and headmaster Delacour thought, exchanging patronizing smiles, it was his patented look and James would rock it.
“Bad table manners, I see” said Black, looking over the collar of James’ robe, sounding more quizzical that disgusted. He rushed to the mirror in the end of the room and yes, there was a string of darkened blood droplets James missed before and now looked like he had messily gurgling down the mulled wine. Having stains erased, James bowed mockingly low.
“My humblest apologies” he chuckled, straightening up, and Black chuckled too. Warmth crept up James' chest, making his grin wider; this up close Black’s eyes were more alive and attentive… The photographer groaned impatiently, shaking his camera.
Pauline Maxime was put on the front on her headmaster’s insistence, but James thought the courtesy would go to waste since Sirius Black was going to be in the same picture. Aggravatingly but true, he was just too good-looking to be outshone even when he was standing at the back, expression haughty. James wasn’t ecstatic about being in one photo with Black while looking like vaguely cheerful death warmed over, but he’d break his wand rather than show that, so he was smiling bright, imagining how this handsome face would look in surprise when James will beat Black at Tournament.
Next day Daily Prophet had published their piece about the Triwizard Tournament, and James opened it with Remus and Peter in the hospital wing. The piece was hilariously biased. Despite the photo showing three champions, much of the article had turned out to be about dramatic life of Sirius Black. The tone of it was overblown, too, not shy about hysterical admiration of his name and family values. Sent to study in school with history of utmost attention to magical arts of all areas…The most brilliant student of his year… excelling at Transfiguration, another field Durmstrang always prided himself… worthy son of Walburga and Orion Black…
James was amused even more, looking in the end of the article where Remus pointed and finding out that he was described as good Quidditch player in Seeker position. Pauline was only mentioned in light of her being a relative of apparently famous Charms teacher Olympe Maxime.
But the smile evaporated when James resumed reading about Black.
Sirius Black did not comment the well-published Lestrage hearing and clearing of all charges, much like his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange herself. No doubt, both of them value unwavering dignity in the face of petty insinuations. It may be the time to question again whether Muggle testimony can even be considered by Wizengamot…
Peter hastily turned the page, looking for the crossword, and James tried to join them in distraction, but it was half-hearted. And half hour later, when they parted for a while so James and Peter could go downstairs to have dinner, James forcefully crumbled the paper in his hands. Anger burning deep under his heart was blind, and had no way out. Black family bought the judges to win the hearing, it was sure more expensive than front page article promoting their vile ideas under guise of Tournament report… Those words were written and printed, as if it was normal, and no one was there to stop it…
The edge of his anger was brittle, cut deeper. It almost felt like a betrayal, but how Black could betray him just by being his parents’ son? They never even properly talked…
Durmstrang students were entering the Hall when James and Peter reached the bottom of the stairs. James saw only glimpse of familiar figure, and the words broke out even before he knew it.
“Hey, Black! Sirius Black!”
Black turned around, pulling off annoyance and disinterest at once. His younger brother who was walking before him looked back too, furrowing.
“How did you like the article, Sirius?” James waved the cramped paper, voice trembling with anger despite his best efforts. Black’s face tensed when he made out the champions photo in the front page. But when he spoke, the tone was even and perfectly superior.
“Feeling left out? Your only achievement, and they didn’t get the field position right.”
Behind Black a few Slytherins sniggered, Avery and Snape among them. Apparently Black was listening when his new fans were deriding his competition. James smiled too, wide and wild.
“Did they get right everything about you? Or did you have something to say about your cousin who tortures Muggles and buys her way out of court?”
Black pulled out his wand so fast the students closest to him rushed back. He was absolutely, deadly pale, expression of bored arrogance shattered by fury.
“Don’t talk to me about her…”
Adrenalin was singing in James’ blood while he was drawing his wand, too. Peter cheered behind him, Lily Evans was shouting something in warning, but he was barely aware. Finally, a chance to let it go, to let Black see not everyone are in love with his family.
“Show me that unwavering dignity, then, will you?”
Black moved forward with all his body, and the splash of red light almost reached James when he diverted the magic. The Hufflepuff hour-glass on the wall took the blast and broke with thunder-like bang, diamonds splattering on the floor.
Next movement of Black’s wand was swift, and James dived right, looking back to make sure no one was in the way of the unknown hex. Path was clear, students were running in all directions, trying to get at the safe distance and keep a good view at the same time.
Black dodged the Freezing Charm with graceful turn and hit back with a spell both nonverbal and invisible on top so James had to guess in the movement of his wand to move away. He almost made it, but not completely, hard force pushed him in the shoulder. Losing balance, James still held his aim - the sparks cluster hit a wall behind Black’ shoulder, dislodging the suit of armor with impact. It started cursing, trying to hold parts of itself together, and Black laughed.
“Really? How so you even score goals if --”
With fast whip of wand James tipped him, and distracted Black fell on the floor mid-sentence. James was breathing fast, scrambling to stand and grinning. Dull ache in the shoulder was nothing, Bludgers hit him worse. Black threw back his hair, standing up, and he was grinning too, wide, bright and thrilled…
“Wands away, immediately! James Potter, care to explain what is this?” cried Professor McGonagall, running out of Great Hall and fixing the armor with a flick of her wand. Behind her were Dumbledore, calm as ever, and Durmstrang headmistress Gregorovitch, her face hardened with indignation.
“It was a measurement of skill, Professor.” James said, still coming down from duel high. Few of students laughed - including Black, sound short and open. Lily grimaced, McGonagall clasped her hands, exasperated, and Dumbledore’s eyes glimmered with amusement.
“I demand suspension!” Gregorovitch bit out, pointing accusatory finger at James. “Hogwarts contestant attacked my champion!”
Black winced at her grave tone, and James had to put effort into not rolling his eyes. First, not true, second, they both were standing straight with no injuries, and third - if anything Black showed he can hold his own just fine.
Dumbledore, it seemed, was thinking along the same lines. His gaze ran over the mess in the hall, over Sirius Black, again looking bored and unaffected despite his faster breathing and color in his face, and stopped on James.
“It looks like both of them attacked the castle rather than each other. Besides, I’m afraid the suspension is impossible, as we all remember, champions are bound to compete by magical contract.” Dumbledore said with the slightest hint of mirth in his tone. “I suppose it would suffice if those young gentlemen fix the mayhem they caused and have a disciplinary talk later.”
Gregorovitch took a breath no doubt to vehemently argue, but Sirius Black nodded shortly and stepped forward, accepting the terms. He and James raised wands at the same time, and James winced inwardly, because there sure will be consequences now when they blow up something else if the charms clashed. But Hufflepuff hour-glass was filled back and fixed in seconds. They chose the same non-verbal repairing spell at the same time.
James laughed, because honest to Merlin, that luck was too much but too needed. Black was smiling too, raising an eyebrow slightly. And then his smile weathered in one moment, gaze became harder. Following his line of sight, James looked down on the rumpled Daily Prophet he dropped during the duel. James flinched as from the sudden cold, the reason he provoked the duel clear again in his mind.
Black swiftly moved his wand and the paper was gone in a puff of smoke. For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something, but it passed quickly, and with one unreadable parting glance Black turned away, walked back to his headmistress, who still watched James with resentment. James headed towards Professor McGonagall who was waiting for him by the staircase, his shoulder sore, something in his chest set loose and erratic.