Chapter Text
“ Eternal glory! That’s what awaits the student who wins The Triwizard Tournament, but to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks. “ - Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)
It was the kind of day you never expected to actually come. The day that you knew would eventually arrive, in the back of your mind, but you never actually believed it. The beginning of the end. The last first day of Hogwarts.
Back when James Potter was a kid, he never thought that his final year would actually happen. Though he knew it didn't make any sense. It had always seemed so far off, too distant to ever seem like a reality. When they were in their first year, it felt like they had an eternity to spare.
But now it seemed time was speeding by faster than the train taking them back to Hogwarts.
James was worried to even blink. It felt like if he closed his eyes for just a second, he’d open them and be back on the train in June, heading the other way.
It was raining, just slightly. And James was watching the rain drops as they fell against the window. Watching the droplets as they trailed down set paths of the rain that was there before. He'd always liked watching the rain when he was little, liked to pick a raindrop to cheer on, to see which one would make it to the bottom first. Now, he just watched them fall.
But James’ attention was broken when he realised that his friends were getting louder and louder. And it became impossible to tune them out any longer.
“Well I just don’t think that’s very smart.”
“It’s not my fault you’re too thick to realise you’re dead wrong.”
“You’re just not considering all the options.”
“James, what would you pick?”
Pulling himself away from the window and the rolling English countryside beyond it, James replied with a simple: “Hmm?”
Sirius sighed and repeated himself. “The question posed by our dear Wormtail was would you rather be a hippogriff or a dragon?”
“I,” Remus leaned forward towards Sirius, who was sat across from him in their train car, “said hippogriff.” He shrugged. “Obviously.”
“Obviously?” Sirius repeated incredulously. “Obviously. The only thing that’s obvious is that being a dragon would be fucking brilliant.” He started rattling points off his fingers. “You can breathe fire and just like a hippogriff, you can fly. But they’re huge – you could fight anyone you want.”
“Well that’s just ignorant,” Remus went on. “Dragons are highly persecuted and mistreated by wizards–”
“There are plenty of free dragons.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Roaming the countryside.”
“So are hippogriffs, and they’re not stuck in a bank protecting money or caught for our amusement.” Remus shook his head. “Besides, think of the size of them. I can’t even imagine being that– that massive.”
Sirius smirked. “Well I’m sure the ladies are disappointed but I myself have never had that proble–” Remus’ potions book was flying across the train car before Sirius even finished the sentence and he replied with a screeching, “Ow!”
If the red on Remus’ cheeks was any indication, Sirius had certainly struck a nerve. “Overcompensating are we?”
Rubbing his bruising cheek, Sirius muttered. “Bastard.” He turned to James. “Fine then, Prongs, what would you choose?”
James sighed, leaning back into his seat, not as interested in the conversation as he was attempting to appear to be. “I don’t know. You both make great points. But Moony’s right. Dragons are highly persecuted. They can’t just live in the Forbidden Forest and lead a peaceful life. Plus, you could be turned into a wand or gloves or potion ingredients. Or spend your life guarding money that’s not even yours.”
Remus raised an eyebrow at Sirius who seemed to be shocked at the betrayal from his best mate. “Yeah? You didn’t think about that, did you, Mr. ‘I wear dragonhide boots?’”
Turning to his last resort, Sirius begged Peter to join his side. His only argument: breathing fire would be cool. Peter, who apparently started the debate in the first place, couldn’t seem to choose. And while Sirius and Remus bickered and Peter wavered between sides, James returned his gaze to the view beyond the train.
He thought, with the kind of heavy melancholy he rarely carried, that this would be his last time taking this journey. His last time approaching Hogwarts. Desperately, he wished he could grip the seat below him and just hold onto the time a little longer.
He’d taken this journey seven times now, the journey from Kings Cross to Hogwarts and it was impossible to ignore how quickly the time was passing by. How fleeting it all was and how it seemed like just yesterday that they’d met in that same train car as eager and innocent first years.
Well, innocent was a stretch. They’d been right little shits from the start.
The door banged open and a sullen red-head entered. Arms crossed, she barked out, “James Potter, where the hell have you been?"
He pulled himself away from his thoughts and answered with all the eloquence he could muster, “Huh?”
Lily breathed harshly out her nose. “Remember? We have to go to the prefect cabin?”
Ah shit. How could he have forgotten? He was so lost in thought he’d let it slip his mind that he was now Head Boy and had to instruct the prefects on their train duties. And now Lily was angry with him. Well, that wasn’t anything new.
Springing up from his seat, James collected his robes – having not yet changed – and his wand, following Lily out the door who looked at his muggle attire with disapproval.
“You too, Lupin,” Lily called out to Remus as they waited for him in the hallway.
“Well, I sort of thought that since I’ve been a prefect for a few years and already know what to do and you two–”
“I’m not giving you any special favours,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. “You’re coming with us.”
Remus groaned but stood and followed them out and down the hall dutifully. “You would think monitoring Hogwarts with a girl might grant you a few special favours but I suppose not.”
She shoved Remus’ shoulder playfully as they made their way to the prefect carriage. “If I’m going to treat you with favouritism we have to be a bit more subtle, don’t you think?”
“I hate these meetings,” Remus whined. “They’re so boring.”
“Excuse you,” James said, “you’re talking to the people leading the meeting. We’ll make it plenty interesting.”
Lily raised an interrogative eyebrow. “James?”
Relenting, James said, “Yeah it’ll be boring.”
“Anyway,” Lily said as they approached the carriage, “since I have the experience, I think I should lead the meeting.” She slid the door open and held it open for them. On a desk in the corner was a stack of papers. “You,” Lily said, grabbing them and handing them to James, “can hand out the assignments we agreed upon after I’m done talking.”
“Right.” James had been thrilled when Lily had asked to meet over the summer to discuss which prefect would be assigned which duties (though his mood had been dampened when Lily hadn’t allowed him to assign Snape to all the worst options).
They’d grown a lot closer as friends during the second part of sixth year and it seemed like for the first time since he met her, James genuinely had a chance.
But he’d deluded himself before so he wasn’t getting his hopes up.
Though he was less than thrilled to be Head Boy, he was looking forward to the chance to spend more time with Lily. It was a difficult topic to discuss with his friends, as whenever he insisted that this was his moment and he was really getting somewhere this time, the three of them just shared ‘a look’ that was incredibly disheartening.
The meeting, as was expected, was exceedingly boring and unnecessarily long. But he was Head Boy now, a feat that shocked everyone from classmates and professors to closest friends and even his own parents. When he’d received the letter over summer, they’d thought it was a practical joke he and Sirius were pulling and it’d taken months of convincing for them to realise it was genuine.
James still wasn’t sure why he’d been chosen. Although, he had cleaned up his act a great deal. At first his change in behaviour was to impress Lily and then just because he realised he was growing up. Replacing hair products with toad spawn or changing the Slytherin colours to Gryffindor red and gold didn’t seem to spark the same joy it once did.
Alright, it was still a little funny at least.
But realizing how much he'd changed only served to further depress him. Though he wasn’t always proud to look back on his more childish ways, those memories were clouded with a deep seated nostalgia and he wondered what his past self would think of him now. If third-year James saw him with a ridiculous Head Boy badge pinned to his robes, standing in front of a bunch of prefects while going over procedure and rules — he’d be mortified.
Well at least he’d be proud of his future self due to his proximity to Lily.
And he’d also probably look forward to the chance to boss Snape around. Speaking of which, he’d already sneered at James several times – clearly upset he’d lost a chance at the position and that his arch nemesis of all people would be in charge.
James then felt childish for still referring to Snape as his ‘arch nemesis’ as he had in first year when it had made him feel all big and important. But he couldn’t avoid the childish urge to take advantage of his newfound power to make Snape’s life as miserable as possible. Well, as miserable as Lily would allow.
Hours after the prefect meeting, James found himself in a noisy, stuffed car with not only the other Marauders but also the girls, including Mary, Lily, and Marlene. Marlene had wanted to bring Dorcas Meadowes from Slytherin, but Sirius had put his foot down about that.
“It’s about house loyalty,” he said for what must have been the hundredth time to a sullen Marlene.
Since there hadn't been enough space for all of them to sit comfortably, Mary Macdonald was on Sirius’ lap, braiding his hair with nimble fingers. Though they were constantly arguing the contrary, nearly the entire school thought they were dating, or at least harboured strong feelings for each other. James was one of the few that actually believed they were strictly platonic as they claimed to be, long conversations with Sirius late at night convinced him of such. It was clear they were two vain, beautiful people who felt a strong, but innocent connection towards each other. And despite their protests, maybe enjoyed the attention that came with the speculation of whether or not they were dating.
But again, they were just friends.
“House loyalty?” Marlene sneered, arms crossed. “The three of us have been friends with Dorcas for years now, it’s time to give that up.”
Sirius turned his nose up. “Never. You can be a traitor in someone else’s car if you truly wish.”
Marlene rolled her eyes but showed no sign of leaving. Instead, she leaned back against her seat stretched her long legs across the dusty floor as if to signify an intention to get even more comfortable.
The conversation moved onto school gossip, who had broken up with whom over summer holidays and which famous wizarding families were sending their kids off to Hogwarts for their first year.
But James quickly lost interest and instead turned back to look out the window and enjoy the last train ride to Hogwarts. At least he tried his best, his heart pounding with anticipation as the light blues and oranges above them turned pitch black and stars littered the Scottish skies. As rivers and mountains became more familiar, he saw the castle peaking over the rolling hills.
Soon, James could no longer dread time speeding away from him. It was impossible to be depressed when surrounded by such good friends and nearing a place almost more familiar to him than his own childhood home. Though it would be his last time approaching Hogwarts on the train, they had a whole year together left there. So he soaked up the warmth that came from being surrounded by his second family, absentmindedly listening to their chatter but not contributing as he did his best to enjoy and appreciate every last moment. James could tell his seventh year would be comparably quiet to the previous six. But nonetheless enjoyable.
It was unfamiliar for Regulus to be called into the headmaster’s office so early into the year. In fact, he was rarely ever called in. He barely knew the man. The only times he’d received an invitation had been the monthly Floo calls he had with his parents in his office — a benefit (or detriment) of the family’s special relationship with the headmaster. Or when he received awards and prizes at the end of the year’s Cérémonie de Triomphe.
He’d arrived for his sixth year at Beauxbatons only two days before and was somehow already in trouble. But he had no idea what for. Or he’d done something so exceedingly brilliant, there needed to be a meeting about it before classes had even started. Again, he had no idea what it could be.
Both seemed pretty unlikely.
“Mr. Black,” Headmaster Bain said as Regulus entered his office, taking a seat behind his desk. “Always a pleasure to see you.” He folded his hands on the mahogany surface. “Gives me a chance to exercise my rusty English.”
“Your English is perfect, sir.”
“Merci beaucoup.” Bain smiled, the creases in the corner of his eyes thickened. “How are your parents doing?”
Well, sir, ever since Sirius left two years ago, they took all the pressure they’d been aiming at him and transferred it to me.
Regulus clicked his tongue before smiling. “They’re brilliant, sir. We summered in Cannes this year.”
“Ah, that’s magnificent. Isn’t it just beautiful there?”
“Yes,” Regulus said. “Though I’m pleased to be back.”
Bain beamed. “Well, I’m glad to see you return. I know that there was talk of you transferring to Hogwarts, but…” He trailed off, clearly expecting Regulus to fill in the gaps.
“That’s all done now,” he said quickly. “They’ve decided I should stay here.”
“Ah,” Bain drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk. “That’s wonderful news of course. I’m happy to hear it. Not just because I’d be losing a top student, but also because I have a proposition for you.” If Bain wasn’t such an innocent, Regulus would almost describe his smile as mischievous. “Have you heard of the Triwizard Tournament?”
“I believe so. It’s a competition between schools right?”
“Yes,” Bain said, his excitement increasing at Regulus’ pre-knowledge of the tournament. “They went on for centuries but stopped in the late seventeen-hundreds over controversies surrounding student endangerment. Until today."
Regulus’ eyebrows flew up behind his fringe. “Sir?”
“After months of negotiations, the three schools, Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and of course our own Beauxbatons, have come to an agreement with our respective ministries and each other on how to resume the games but in a safer manner.” Bain leaned forward across his desk. “The Triwizard Tournament will be held once more.”
Regulus blinked. “Oh.”
“I know. It’s almost too exciting for words. Each school is invited to enter as many potential champions as they want and that’s why I have asked you here now. You’re one of our finest students, a brilliant wizard, and far more clever than anyone realises.”
“Thank you, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Are we hosting the tournament or–”
“That’s the best part,” Bain said, almost no longer able to be confined to his chair any longer, he stood. “The tournament will be at Hogwarts.”
“Ah.” Well… it seemed there was a one in three chance of that happening anyway. He shouldn’t be surprised. And the way Bain was talking, inviting Regulus to enter, it seemed obvious they’d be abroad, but still he’d been hoping for Durmstrang. “Brilliant.”
Suddenly, Regulus was nauseous. He’d had no interest in attending Hogwarts ever since his brother had returned from Christmas holidays in his first year. The only thing Sirius could talk about back then was how wonderful his new friends were. The realisation had been cold – that Regulus had been replaced.
“For safety reasons, the age limit has been moved to seventeen, which works out perfectly as you’ll be of age in a few weeks, according to the British Ministry of Magic, so you’ll be the only sixth year asked. We’re also asking around eleven seventh years so we can have a round twelve candidates total. Of course, you’re not guaranteed to get in if you enter, but if you accept, whether or not you’re chosen as a champion, you can stay at Hogwarts. The headmaster, a man called Albus Dumbledore, has agreed to let those not chosen from both our school and Durmstrang, stay as students studying abroad. You’ll have the chance to attend classes at Hogwarts with their professors, and as it is my alma mater, I cannot stress enough how exciting an opportunity–”
“And if we want to leave?”
Bain’s brow wrinkled, either confused at the interruption or the question itself. Or perhaps both. “Pardon?”
“Excuse me, sir,” Regulus said, quickly making his tone apologetic, “for my impertinence. I was just wondering if we were able to leave. Were we not to be selected as a champion.”
Bain raised an eyebrow. “Oh, are the hallowed halls of Hogwarts not good enough for you, Monsieur Black?”
Somehow, Regulus had achieved an impossible feat by offending their kindly headmaster. Sensing trouble, he quickly rephrased to get back in Bain’s good graces, the man famous for his almost pathetic love for Hogwarts. “My apologies, sir. I only meant that I have an attachment to Beauxbatons. It’s my second home. I just– I meant that while participating in the Triwizard Tournament would be a great honour, if I were to fail to be chosen, I might be homesick and would prefer to return.”
Bain took a moment, but when he replied, his gentle manner returned. “Ah, of course. If you wish to return to Beauxbatons instead of finishing the year at Hogwarts, I would understand. But these games haven’t been held for nearly two-hundred years, it would be a privilege only a limited number of students are receiving to even see the games. And I thought you’d want to see your brother again.”
Regulus’ jaw clenched at the mention of Sirius. “I– we’re not on the best of terms. He left the family a few years ago.”
“Oh?” Bain raised an eyebrow but it was an act. There was no way he didn’t know. Though he lived in France, Bain’s mother had been British and a Nott so he was privy to information from their society. “I’m sorry to hear that. In any case.”
“Yes,” Regulus said. “It would be an honour to see the tournament played out, whatever the circumstances. I have a few friends there. Family friends.”
Bain rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Well,” he rose from his seat, “I won’t keep you any longer. Take some time to think about it and get back to me.” He placed a hand on Regulus’ shoulder and led him to the door. “Not too much time though of course. We’re leaving for Hogwarts in a few weeks, so we’d like to make arrangements beforehand. Let me know as soon as possible.” He opened the door and waved him out with a kindly, but stretched smile. “Au revoir.”
“Bonsoir, monsieur.”
As usual, the sorting ceremony was far too long. It seemed like they’d been in the R section of student names for ages.
Hunched over and gripping his stomach, Sirius muttered, “People need to stop having so many kids.”
Peter’s head was in his hand and he yawned. “I feel like we’ve been here for hours.”
“It’s only been about thirty minutes,” Remus said and rolled his eyes. But his growling stomach gave him away.
“I still think we should have set off a Dungbomb or something,” Sirius said, leaning his head onto Remus’ shoulder. But he quickly lifted it and looked around to see if anyone was watching them.
“That’s childish,” Remus said, “even for you.”
“Come up with something better then,” Sirius mumbled into his arms as he laid his head on top of them.
“You’d only end up delaying the ceremony. We could have bought something from Zonkos to make us sick so we could all go to the infirmary.”
“Now that’s a good idea, my fine furry friend.”
Remus rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile at the compliment.
“Or,” Peter said through another yawn, “you could’ve just said you needed to go to Pomfrey considering it was a full moon a few days ago.”
Sirius shushed Peter and James looked around to see if anyone had been listening. Remus was surprisingly lax about the comment. No one was paying any attention to them anyways. “That would only get me out of dinner because I rarely take any of you with me to get a healing potion, do I?”
“Hey,” Peter said, “every man for himself. I’d respect it.”
The ceremony did, of course, eventually end and students began chatting amongst themselves, excited to get started on their feast. But Dumbledore raised his hands, “I have a few opening words before we begin.”
James heard some groaning from down their table and the other students murmured to each other. But Dumbledore often realised how hungry his students were at this point, so he usually kept it brief. Once, it had been exactly three words.
“I see your desperate, hungry faces all shining back at me so I suppose we’ll wait. But exciting news follows.” He smiled. “Tuck in.”
“Thank fucking Merlin,” Sirius said and immediately inhaled a chicken leg that appeared within the second.
Remus, who was clearly starving considering it had only been a few days since the full moon, piled more food than would be suitable for three grown men onto his plate. “Exciting news? What do you think that could be about?”
“Well,” James said, taking a serving fork from Remus to scoop mashed potatoes onto his plate, “knowing Dumbledore, it could be anything from new paint in the loos to us getting a real dragon as a school mascot.”
“Probably somewhere in the middle,” Peter chimed in. “Ooh, maybe Filch is retiring.”
“That would certainly be something to feast over,” Sirius added, cutting himself a rather generous slice of shepherd’s pie.
Remus huffed. “Like you need an excuse.”
“So Lily,” Peter said, taking time to make the perfect plate of roast, beans, yorkshire pudding, and peas. Peter treated his meals like art, taking his time to appreciate the flavours while Sirius, sitting diagonally from him, stuffed food into his mouth till he couldn’t breathe. “How often has Prongs asked you out so far this year?”
Lily rolled her eyes. They were both extremely tired of the teasing they received for their little will-they-won’t-they romance – which was of course James’ fault. He’d thought that scaling back after the mishap after their O.W.L.s and befriending Lily would calm things down but it seemed most of the people in the school were curious to see how things would end up. Even one of his best mates – and for that James kicked his shin under the table.
Peter winced and nearly dropped his fork.
“So far, not at all.”
“You know,” James said, smothering his dinner roll with butter and gravy, “I’ve really only asked her out once.” He hated to mention that mishap, but it was relevant now so he brought it up. “The others have just been wooing attempts to impress you.”
Lily raised an eyebrow and the side of her lips tugged up. “Oh is that what that was? I thought you were just trying to see how much of a fool you could make yourself.”
“Haha,” James deadpanned and then opened his mouth to show Lily the disgusting mixture of bread and steak in his mouth to which she predictably cringed and looked away from. “You love it.”
As always, it seemed that the food on their table was infinite. In fifth year, Sirius had been curious to see how long it could go on for, so they’d enchanted his school bag’s inside to be the size of a small room and kept dumping trays of sausage links into it. It had not been an empty plate that had stopped them, but instead McGonagall coming over to take his bag and deduct ten house points that did the trick.
“Now that our bellies are full,” Dumbledore said, once again rising to the podium when the feast was finished and instantly silencing the crowd, “and we’ve gathered with friends old and new, I’d like to go over a few start of term announcements.” He gestured to their caretaker and for a moment, the four Marauders held their breaths as if their prediction of Filch’s leave was actually true. “First, Mr. Filch wants me to remind you all that Zonko’s items are not allowed on school grounds.” He turned his gaze to the four seventh-year boys in Gryffindor. “So don’t let him catch you with any on your person.”
Sirius snickered and shoved Remus lightly on the shoulder. “We should tell the first years the reason for that ban, eh boys?”
“I don’t think that’ll make them that impressed with us,” Remus said. “Might start a revolt.”
Dumbledore went on, “Of course, here’s our yearly reminder that the Forbidden Forest is aptly named, and should therefore be avoided at all cost, lest one of you wishes to face a particularly painful and memorable death.”
As always, the first years looked around and murmured to each other with wide eyes. It was, one of Dumbledore’s favourite pastimes to initiate new students with fear.
“Yeah,” Sirius whispered, in a tone much lower than he was normally capable of, “enter and you run the risk of meeting the big bad wolf.”
Remus just rolled his eyes at that one.
“I’d also like to introduce,” Dumbledore gestured to a middle-aged wizard with salt and pepper hair in deep sapphire robes who stood at his signal, “Professor Oza as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. We’re all no doubt happy to have you here.”
“Poor bastard,” James muttered. The DADA position had been famously short for decades now. Their last professor had nearly lost his hand to a grindylow and had sent in his notice shortly after.
As the underwhelming applause from students far too familiar with this scenario died down and Professor Oza took his seat once more, Dumbledore went on, “Now, onto our exciting news. It is my great pleasure to announce the return of a once time honoured tradition to Hogwarts. We will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament for the first time in over a century.”
“What?!” Sirius shouted out unabashedly and so loudly that it echoed in the Great Hall. Much to the shared glances and giggling of their student body.
“Indeed, Mr. Black,” Dumbledore said and beamed. “It is thrilling, and shocking news indeed. For the uninitiated, the Triwizard Tournament is a set of games held as an inter-school competition between ourselves, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion is selected from each school to represent them and attempt to bring honour to their country and place of education. There are three tasks, each more daunting than the last, which will offer the champions a chance to prove themselves and take home glory to their school – and a thousand galleons to their pockets.” Discussion buzzed in the hall. “Yes, yes, it is quite exciting. Though the tournament came under controversy for it’s rising death toll–”
“Excuse me,” Lily muttered to Mary who was sat next to her, “rising death toll?”
“But after frequent conferences with the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Games and Sports over the summer, we have come up with an outline of rules that will ensure the safety of our participants.” Dumbledore cleared his throat. “I understand many of you are no doubt buzzing with anticipation to enter your names, but the heads of our three schools and of the collective departments have decided that setting an age limit of seventeen is necessary to ensure student safety.”
Groans and outright protests sounded out from across the hall and James couldn’t help but feel like one of the lucky ones, having been of age for months now. The very idea of even entering his name was enough to speed the resting rate of his heartbeat.
“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore said, waving his hands to encourage silence, “I know how disappointing this must be for all of you. But the rules are set in place for your benefit, I assure you. No matter the precautions we take, the tasks will be far too dangerous and difficult for anyone not already past O.W.L.s and of age to compete in. And if all goes well this time, we may be repeating the Triwizard Cup in a few short years. As the contract once a champion is selected is magically binding, I have undertaken the very serious task of ensuring no one under the age of seventeen is allowed to enter,” he glanced around the room, “so I wouldn’t waste too much energy trying to bypass that if I was one of our underage students.” He smiled, though the threat in his eyes was clear. “Rest assured, that you all will have until the end of October to submit your names, so if any of you turn seventeen next month, you will also have the chance to be considered for the role of Hogwarts champion.”
This seemed to brighten up the spirits of a small fraction of students but an air of melancholy remained for anyone that would be remaining sixteen or under for the following months.
“Very tragic indeed,” Dumbledore said, “but fret not! The games will be exciting for all of us at Hogwarts. You will all be invited to each task, which will be quite exciting. And as a bonus, you’ll be sitting comfortably and anxiety-free in the stands, the privilege of being a student at the host school. We will also be welcoming students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to Hogwarts and they will be attending classes with you all and dorming with two lucky houses.”
“If you ask me, I wouldn’t exactly fancy myself lucky to be sharing dorms with a bunch of snooty Beauxbatons,” Sirius snorted.
James knew Sirius’ distaste of Beauxbatons didn’t just come from stereotypes about the French, but instead because it was his estranged brother’s school. Why Regulus attended Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts, James never really found out. It seemed Sirius barely knew himself but according to him, his parents hadn’t thought Regulus fit for Hogwarts. Mysterious.
“Our friends from France and the north, as well as their respective headmasters, will be arriving in a fortnight, so I hope we all spend the next few weeks readying to give them a big Hogwarts welcome. While this is of course a competition, it is a friendly one, meant to unite our great institutions rather than divide them. Any physical fighting or verbal harassments between our schools will be taken seriously. But we do expect complete support and plenty of school spirit for whomever is chosen as the Hogwarts champion. And for anyone considering entering, think carefully before you do. As I said before, the contract is legally and magically, binding. Not to mention, particularly dangerous.”
“Now,” Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. “I’ve talked your collective ear off far too much for tonight. I’ll send all of you off with a pleasant ‘good night and welcome back,’ as it’s quite past my bedtime and I’m sure you all also want to rest your weary heads against your school issued pillows as soon as possible. First-years, find your prefects and the rest of you, find your dorms.”
The whole school rumbled with chatter, and despite Dumbledore’s words, it seemed no one was really that tired after the announcement.
“We’re all putting our names in, right lads?” Sirius asked, wrapping an arm around Remus and then James as they walked out of the Great Hall and towards Gryffindor tower. “I mean, we’ve got to, right?”
“I definitely am,” James said. “I wouldn’t mind bringing Hogwarts glory before leaving her forever.”
“Christ, Potter,” Lily said, rolling her eyes as the three girls caught up to them, “you really are full of yourself.”
“Oh yes, Evans,” James said, smirking at her, “yes I am. Will you be entering?”
“Fat chance. I’d like to keep my head firmly attached to my neck, thank you very much.”
“I’m out too,” Mary said. “I’d surely be chosen champion over you lot, but it sounds like far too much work. We’re meant to be enjoying our last year, aren’t we? Not studying even more.”
“I think I’ll do it,” Marlene said. “I mean why not. The money would be nice and I like the idea of a crowd chanting my name.”
“Merlin, Marls,” Lily groaned. “You’re almost as bad as Potter.”
Peter sighed. “I suppose I’ll enter too. No chance I’m picked with you two in the running anyway.”
James shoved his shoulder into Peter’s. “Not true, mate. It’s not like it’s based on marks or anything. My dad told me about it once, said there’s a goblet that everyone enters their names into. Apparently it chooses who’s most worthy.”
“Ah okay. Then Sirius has no shot,” Peter said, “it’s all you Prongs.”
Sirius grasped his heart and stepped back as if he’d been blasted by a particularly cruel hex. “You wound me, Pettigrew. What about you, Moony?”
“Yeah that sounds brilliant,” Remus said, his voice dripping in sarcasm. “If I get injured, I can just go straight to Madam Pomfrey’s for my medicine and to stitch up my wounds. It’s just stupid and reckless enough to be a great plan.”
Sirius immediately caught onto the fact that Remus’ monthly trips to the Forbidden Forest and sometimes days of recovery wouldn’t jibe well with a physically and mentally draining tournament. “Oh.”
Lily was the only one of the girls who knew about Remus’ condition, after realising his visits to his sick mother always fell on the full moon and were followed by symptoms of what the other girls thought were just a regular disability caused by genetics.
“Our family tends to have a bad reaction to Dragon Pox,” Remus had told the girls once in fifth year, “causes frequent flare ups for the rest of our lives.”
Well that explained the limping and days bedridden with Pomfrey alright to them. But it wasn’t enough for the brightest witch in their year who had confronted him about it silently one day in sixth year, worried Remus had no one to confide in. On that front, she had been dead wrong.
“Right then,” Sirius said as they neared the portrait. Considering the long line of Gryffindors heading to the same place, they didn’t even need to say the password as each student held the frame open to the next – much to the protest of the painting’s subject. “I guess we won’t enter the tournament then, in solidarity.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Remus scolded as he and Peter ducked into their common room. “You have to do it. If only to have the opportunity to show off in front of as many people as possible. I think you need to exercise that energy out sometimes.”
“Thank you, Moony,” Sirius said, following him up the stairs to their dorm.
They discussed the details of the tournament as they got ready for bed, each sharing the limited knowledge they had on it from their childhoods. Sirius had excitedly mentioned that champions were the subjects of temporary fame, even if they didn’t win, and would likely get a story about them in the Prophet.
James worried how the Quidditch schedule would be affected, having looked forward to this year since the end of the last. He’d lost the cup miserably to Slytherin in his first year as captain and was determined to secure the victory for Gryffindor this time. Regardless, the whole team would be on the pitch bright and early the next morning as it was their last day before classes and James wanted to practise before holding tryouts for their next Seeker and Keeper.
“Just think,” Sirius said, lying on his bed with his hands behind his head, “how great would it be to actually be chosen as champion.”
“A nightmare, honestly,” Peter said and the others laughed.
Remus flicked his wand and the lights went out. James closed the curtains around his bed. It felt safe to be back, familiar. And he was glad to once again be falling asleep to the sounds of Sirius snoring, Peter’s mid-sleep muttering, and Remus’ rustling as he tossed and turned. Habits he’d previously found annoying, but now embraced for as long as he could have them.
James’ last year at Hogwarts had once felt potentially uneventful. Surprisingly, it was shaping up to be their most exciting one yet. As James closed his eyes and his breathing slowed, he swore he could hear the crowds cheering his name as he held up a glowing cup for them all to see.