CHAMPION

CHAPTER 1
Triwizard Tournament

James shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to surreptitiously wipe his sweaty palms on the inside of his trousers as he meandered down the train, glancing into compartments as he went. Remus had returned from the Prefects' meeting a few minutes before, so James figured she would be with her friends—it was just a matter of finding them.

Eventually, a shrill giggle caught his attention above the train's whistle, and he crept toward a compartment a short ways ahead. Peeking through the window confirmed his suspicion: there was Marlene, face alight with glee as her hands pressed excitedly over her mouth and her feet kicked excitedly against the carpet—and there, across from her, was the object of Marlene's attention, dark red hair framing cheeks flushed and rounded in her own laughing smile, her mouth moving a mile a minute as she said something James couldn't hear but that the girls obviously could.

Girls. His stomach did an odd flop. He'd known to expect this—she was popular, after all—but he'd still harbored the unrealistic hope that he'd be able to get her alone with less of an audience.

Ah, well. He wasn't James 'The Charmer' Potter for nothing.

He knocked to announce his presence, then slid back the compartment door and smiled at the faces turning to look at him: Marlene, still looking gleeful; Mary, regarding him with shrewd eyes; Dorcas, pulling her lips under to fight a smile as her eyebrows gave her away her surprise; and—his heart fluttered—Lily, the smile on her face instantly dissolving as she noticed him.

Marlene broke the silence. "Hey, James! Good summer?"

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe as his brain chanted a mantra of act casual, act casual.

"Ladies," he greeted. "Yeah, it was. You?"

"Great!" Marlene piped.

"You know us," Mary added with a smirk. "We love a good time."

He did know; they were the life of the party, those four girls, and with him, his three best friends, the grade above them, and last year's graduating class thrown into the mix? He doubted Gryffindor Tower had ever or would ever see parties like that again.

An awkward silence blanketed the compartment as three of the girls watched him expectedly, Dorcas now blatantly looking back and forth between him and Lily, who had apparently decided chipping at her nail polish was more interesting than his existence. Well, it was now or never.

James cleared his throat. "Er, Evans? Could I talk to you?"

All eyes swiveled to her as she glanced up at him, her face set and unreadable as ever. But then Mary, who was next to her, elbowed her sharply in the ribs, leading to a lightning-quick exchange of Looks that James couldn't even begin to decipher before Lily abruptly stood up and sighed, "Fine."

He gave a quick wave to the other Gryffindor girls, then shoved his hands back in his pockets as he made for the alcove of a luggage rack at the end of the car.

Lily followed him silently, and when he turned to face her, the first thing he noticed was that she had her arms crossed tightly over her chest. It was her typical stance of defiance, yet he really wished she'd stop, because her chest had filled out rather nicely over the past year, and now instead of being intimidated by her, he had to war with the natural inclinations of his sixteen-year-old body.

"What do you want, Potter?"

He forced his eyes away from her v-neck jumper and up to her face, brilliant and fierce. Not that that helped the war happening in the front of his trousers, which reacted to her whole fucking aura.

But he was a man on a mission, and he was determined not to botch it up (again).

"To apologize," he said plainly.

Her eyes only narrowed. "For what?"

James gaped. "What d'you mean, for what? Evans, you know what. June? After exams?"

She arched a challenging brow. "You apologized already."

He sighed as he raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "Yeah, and then you didn't answer my letters all summer, so I thought I would try again."

A slight flush crept up her neck and he thought he noticed a flicker of guilt pass over her face, but she recovered quickly, chin jutting up as she tossed her hair and quirked her brows. "Go for it."

Nerves fluttered in his chest but he sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to deliver the message he'd been rehearsing for the past week. "I know I've apologized for a lot of things already. What happened with Snape, what I did, all the other stuff you said about me…but there was something I missed." Her face didn't change, but he could tell he had her attention, fucking finally. "I'm sorry for asking you out like that."

Pink bloomed in her cheeks, eyes darting frantically between his as surprise cracked through the facade of her expression.

"It was a really shit way to do it," James rushed, shoving his hands deep in his pockets to try to keep them out of his hair. "Look, I know things between us last year didn't really…make sense"—she snorted at that, eyes rolling briefly—"but I just thought—the way you would usually turn me down when I asked, but then still keep…you know, flirting with me, I thought—it felt like a game, you know? Just like, a thing we had. How we…I dunno, teased each other. So that day, it just—came out. And all the stuff you said, at first I just thought it was all because you were mad about Snape and what I did, but then, the more I thought about it, when you didn't answer, I realized…maybe you'd thought that all along, and that's why you always turned me down, not because it was this, like, game thing—"

Green eyes blazed up at him. "So it was all just a game to you, is what you're saying?"

"No!" His hand shot up to his hair, but he caught himself and rubbed his neck instead. "Shit, no, that's not—I mean—well, kind of, but—"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "But what?"

He pushed out an exasperated sigh, chewing his lip, and then decided to just swallow the Skele-gro, as they say. "The first time I asked you out? With that dumb singing Valentine?" She pulled her lips under, like she was fighting a smile. "I meant it; I liked you. And even though you said no, you also said no to everyone else, and the way you teased me made me think you liked that I asked. And so yeah, from then on, it felt like a…flirty little game between us. But that doesn't mean I didn't mean it, because I did. I always wanted to go out with you. Fuck, I still do, but after what happened, I…realize I missed my shot."

Now she was chewing her lip, watching him with thoughtful eyes.

"And I just…I had hoped we could…put it all behind us, I guess. Be, y'know, friends. And after talking to my mates this summer, I realized I hadn't apologized for…that part. Because I hadn't realized that might have bothered you even more than, you know. All the other stuff. So…can we? Be friends?"

Lily looked him over, tossing her hair again, and the faintest trace of something sweet and flowery reached his nose. "I'll think about it," she said simply.

"Oh," he said dumbly. "Okay."

Her body angled slightly, like she'd started to think about leaving, but then she stopped. "Thank you," she said softly.

James blinked. "For…?"

A smile tweaked the corner of her mouth. "For apologizing, you twat."

"Oh."

Lily rolled her eyes, but her voice sounded serious when she continued, "I…I read your letters. I just—I didn't really know what to say…yet. But…I appreciate it."

His chest lightened. "Oh. Well that's, ah, good."

She nodded awkwardly. "Yeah. I'll, um…see you around, Potter."

"Yeah, see you."

He watched her walk away, unable to keep his eyes from drifting over the swish of her hair down her back, the fit of her jumper outlining the curve from waist to hip, the hug of her jeans around her bum. Arousal ached in the front of his trousers, and he bit his lip in an effort to distract his mind as he tried to surreptitiously adjust himself through the inside of his pockets.

Just then, Lily looked back at him as she slid open the door to her compartment—and she smirked.

Merlin, this girl was going to be the death of him.

So how'd it go?" Sirius asked without lifting his eyes from the latest Quidditch Weekly. "You were gone awhile."

James cleared his throat awkwardly as he resumed his seat by Peter. Figuring it was best to leave out the part where he stopped by the train lavatory for a quick wank on his way back, he answered, "She, er, said she'd think about it."

Remus looked up from his Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 with an arched brow. "Think about what?"

"Being friends."

Sirius snorted—"Your apology was that bad, huh?"—though Remus only smirked as he returned his attention to his book.

"It was not," James defended hotly. "It was pretty damn good, actually. But I see you smirking Moony, did she say something to you?"

Remus turned the page idly, face suddenly arranged into neutrality. He knew something, James was sure of it. "I'm not a middleman, Prongs, we've been over this."

James jabbed an accusing finger. "She did!"

His friend only sighed with exasperation, eyes fixed determinedly on a page he definitely wasn't reading. "It doesn't matter if she did or didn't," Remus rationalized. "She's my friend too—"

"Yeah, but I'm your friend more—"

Remus fixed him with a hard look. "Did you say the part about realizing you've missed your shot?"

"Yes."

"And the thing about realizing it was a shit way to ask her even though your feelings were genuine?"

"Yes."

"And did she say anything about your letters?"

James shrugged. "Just that she didn't know what to say yet, but she appreciated them."

Remus nodded, as if this answer satisfied him, and returned to looking at his book, though a small smile was twitching at his lips. "Never say I don't help you, Prongs," he muttered.

Trusting the process was something James could get behind when it just involved him—like learning a new move in Quidditch training, or becoming an Animagus—but when it involved someone else? Namely, a red-headed girl on whom he'd nursed a crush since he was thirteen? It took every ounce of discipline he could muster to let that conversation lie, but he knew better than to push the issue. A cranky Remus was never fun to deal with, and besides—hadn't his friend coached him through practicing his apology, presumably after he'd written to his other friend—Lily Evans—over the summer about topics James didn't know about but that he could assume included him?

"Exploding snap?"

Peter held out the deck between them, and James turned his body sideways to face him. "Winner gets the last chocolate frog."

His friend began to deal, and James's mind began to empty as thoughts about competitive strategy filled it. The game was on.

Warmth flooded him as soon as he tumbled into the Entrance Hall, shoes squelching with the rain that had pelted down for the last hour they'd been on the train.

"Welcome back to Scotland," Sirius muttered dryly as he fished for his wand.

"You can say that again," Remus mumbled.

"Welcome back to Scot—"

Remus dealt Sirius a swift blast of cold air from his wand, which James promptly praised with a fist-bump just before Professor McGonagall began shooing them all into the Great Hall. "Move along, move along," she barked. "You're all causing far too much humidity"—sure enough, the stone walls appeared to be sweating and what looked like brewing storm clouds were swirling above their heads—"and I advise you think twice before doing anything you might regret, Miss Evans—"

James whipped his head around to find Lily, blushing but stoic as she lowered her wand from the unassuming cloud hanging over an oblivious Mulciber's head. His eyes narrowed in curiosity—Lily wasn't one to instigate trouble, but she was no stranger to sneaky retaliation, so if she'd been on the verge of opening a charmed raincloud on Mulciber, James was sure there was a reason.

He was blessed with an opening while being buffeted amongst the throng of students into the Great Hall.

"Alright, Evans?"

She spared him a brief, shrewd glance before answering with a huff, "Perfectly fine."

Unlikely, but if that's how she wanted to be, okay. "Uh-huh."

Her hair was still damp at the ends, a fact James was trying to un-notice as the water turned her white shirt into a shade of transparent that did unhelpful things to his groin, so it took him a minute to process that she'd responded with a sharp, "Like you'd understand, anyway."

James blinked after her, puzzling over her words, and only broke his stare at her retreating back when Sirius nearly bowled him over.

"You really need to get it together, mate," his friend lectured, steering him toward the Gryffindor table with a sturdy hand on his shoulder.

James grumbled under his breath.

"Afraid I didn't catch that." Really, Sirius sounded far too chipper for his unfolding Lily Evans Crisis.

He stepped over the bench to take his seat, repeating defensively, "I just hoped we could be friends, that's all."

To his surprise, Sirius didn't snark. Instead, his friend said quite seriously, "Prongs. Friends don't pine. Maybe try treating her like an actual friend, and not like your crush, and see where that goes, yeah?"

Huh. He should probably give Sirius more credit.

Implementing Sirius's advice, James determinedly focused his attention on not looking at Lily Evans throughout the duration of the sorting, which he and his friends commentated together with Nearly Headless Nick per tradition, nor did he cast so much as a careless glance her way when the empty dishes filled magically with piles of delectable food that he began shoveling straight into his mouth. He even successfully ignored her—though he could occasionally hear her voice, a few seats down from Remus, across from him—through all of Dumbledore's opening remarks.

"We have the great honor of hosting a very exciting event this year," the headmaster was saying. "This event has not been held for over a century, but the committee of organizers has decided the time is ripe for its return. As such, I am very pleased to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year!"

James turned to gape at Sirius as the Great Hall erupted into excited chatter.

"Settle down, settle down!" Dumbledore motioned for quiet. "As some of you may know, the Triwizard Tournament dates back some seven hundred years, and is a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. One champion is selected to compete from each school, and the three champions compete in three magical tasks. Unfortunately, the mounting death toll from the tournament forced its closure over a century ago—"

"Death toll?" Marlene shrieked, earning a mixture of titters and appreciative looks.

Dumbledore smiled in her direction. "Yes, Miss McKinnon, you heard me correctly. However, our Ministry officials and the Heads of the participating schools have worked tirelessly over the summer to ensure that the tournament may return safely, and that no champion will find himself or herself in mortal peril."

Sirius elbowed James in the ribs and hissed, "How hard can it be, then?"

"As part of such safety measures, and because the magical skills necessarily required to compete in the tasks will be advanced, we have agreed that only those students at N.E.W.T.-level—that is to say, sixth and seventh years—will be eligible to put their names forth for consideration."

There was an outbreak of grumbling as those in fifth year or below pouted about being unable to compete, but they quickly quieted down as Dumbledore continued on.

"Delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive in October," the headmaster announced, "and the selection of the three champions will take place at Hallowe'en. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Inexplicably, at that precise moment, Lily Evans turned over her shoulder and looked straight at him. James quirked a brow, lips instinctively curling in a grin, but Lily turned away so fast he would have sworn he'd imagined the whole thing if it weren't for the faint pink tinging her cheeks.

"Because of the Triwizard Tournament, the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." James sighed in disappointment while feeling a simultaneous shot of relief; he hadn't received the Captain badge he'd expected to get with his Hogwarts letter, and it had been a painful blow for the past two weeks thinking the badge had gone to someone else. "However," Dumbledore said, "the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be staying with us for the greater part of this year, and it is my sincere wish that you extend all the hospitality Hogwarts has to offer. I also hope that you all give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion, whoever that may be after Hallowe'en night."

With a clap and one of his quirky phrases, Dumbledore bid them off to bed, and James ambled with Sirius and Peter along the tables and out of the Great Hall, trying his best not to look to where Remus and Lily were corralling first years.

"Reckon we should enter?" Peter asked excitedly.

"Obviously, Wormtail," Sirius drawled, cuffing Peter upside the head. "Though this impartial judge would be a partial idiot to pick you."

James chuckled and teased, "Better hope it doesn't pick you, Pads, or you'll have to cut your hair just to be able to see what you're supposed to do."

Sirius scowled as he slicked his hair back behind his ear; after deciding to grow it out earlier this summer, it just reached, though it quickly fell loose again. "Fuck off," he mumbled.

He yawned widely at the breakfast table. Eight o'clock was an abysmally early time for breakfast after a summer of lazy lie-ins, and especially after a late night spent unpacking, talking about the Triwizard Tournament, and then lying awake fantasizing about the Triwizard Tournament.

James gulped his first cup of coffee, then poured a second, a decision for which he was grateful when Professor McGonagall wandered over shortly after to sort through N.E.W.T. schedules.

"Mr. Potter," she greeted, and a rare smile cracked over her usual strict expression. "Well done. I'm sure your parents are thrilled."

He cleared his throat awkwardly; he'd surprised himself with how well he'd done on his O.W.L.s and didn't really know how to handle public attention for something as mundane as good marks. "Er, yeah."

"And I presume you'd like to continue everything, since these are the courses required for Auror training?"

A red blur moved in the corner of his eye, and his hand jumped to his hair out of nervous habit. "Er, yes, professor."

"Very well." She tapped her sheet of parchment and handed him his new timetable, which James took with a mumbled thanks.

"Mr. Black. The same as Mr. Potter, I presume?"

Sirius grinned. "You know me so well, Professor."

McGonagall rolled her eyes, but James swore he saw the hint of a smile on her face as she handed Sirius his timetable and moved along to Mary, on Sirius's other side.

"Potions this morning," Sirius drawled. "And then double Transfig this afternoon."

"Joy," James mumbled as he folded his fried egg into his toast and then stuffed the whole piece into his mouth.

"Some of us also have Arithmancy," Remus chided between bites of sausage.

Sirius catapulted a mushroom at him, socking him right in the cheek.

"Oi!" Remus exclaimed.

Sirius was unrepentant. "Are you bragging or complaining, Moony?"

A female voice James would recognize anywhere floated, "Black, you know we're supposed to take at least five points for food fighting, right?"

James glanced over at her, realizing only when those sharp green eyes landed on him that his cheeks were still puffed like a chipmunk from all the food he'd stuffed in them. Bloody hell.

"Gonna dock me, Evans?" Sirius challenged.

Remus placated, "Lily, it's fine, let me handle it—"

She rolled her eyes, spared one fleeting look of disgust at James with his slow-chewing chipmunk cheeks, and then turned back to her girlfriends.

It was fine. He was fine. He was over her. Crush, who? Remus was right: he'd missed his shot. And Sirius was right: he might as well treat her the same way he treated everyone else, because it wasn't like anything else was going to happen.

So resolved, James made his way to the dungeons with Sirius and Remus; Peter, the poor sod, hadn't scored high enough to continue to N.E.W.T., so he'd headed back upstairs for a free period with Marlene, who'd elected not to continue "the singular worst subject in the history of wizardry." Reading between the lines, James thought she was probably trying to save face; she'd never been very bookish.

But what this meant in practical terms was that there was an odd number of Gryffindor boys and odd number of Gryffindor girls; and since he and Sirius always partnered together in everything, that meant Remus needed a partner; and since Lily was the closest with Remus out of the girls, that meant she partnered with him while Dorcas and Mary partnered together; and since the worktables sat four and he, Sirius, and Remus had immediately sat together, that meant Lily Evans was now at his potions table.

If he was still crushing on her, he'd feel like Christmas had come early, but he wasn't, so he forced himself to stay cool. Casual. James 'The Casual One' Potter. No. James 'Calm Cool Collected' Potter. Eh…no. James—

Sirius's elbow jabbed him hard in the ribs. "Stop staring," his friend hissed through gritted teeth.

Oh. Right.

He averted his eyes from Lily, who was Miss Casual herself perusing her textbook with her chin resting in her palm, but at Sirius's ruckus, her eyes flicked up and darted between them.

Sirius grinned and winked at her. She made a fake-smile-face back. James grinned at her too. She immediately scowled and turned back to her book.

He tried not to be disappointed, but Sirius's grimace didn't exactly help that.

Merlin help him, forget surviving sixth year—would he even survive his first class?

Slughorn chose that moment to begin with his signature booming greetings, gesturing excitedly toward the three cauldrons he had set up at the front of the room. James only half paid attention, doodling idly on his parchment, but then his nose caught the scent of something flowery and slightly sweet, and his ears perked up as he heard Slughorn ask, "And take a quick whiff, everyone—now, who can tell me what this sneaky little potion is? Miss Evans, can you take a gander?"

His gaze snapped up to Lily, whose cheeks looked a little pink and eyes a little glassy as she leaned toward the flowery fumes coming from the cauldron. "It's Amortentia," she breathed. "The most powerful love potion in the world. It smells different to everyone according to what attracts them so that you're drawn to it. For example, I smell…pine, like a forest, and broom polish, and—"

But Slughorn had dropped the lid back on the cauldron with a clang and Lily, who'd been halfway out of her seat, sat back down abruptly with flushing cheeks. Not that anyone else had likely noticed; a quick glance around the room confirmed that everyone was blinking rapidly and shaking their heads, like they were all coming out of a stupor.

"Excellent, my dear, take ten points. Now I've saved the best for last…who can tell me… Severus?"

James's insides curdled at the sight of the slouched figure in the corner, sheets of dark hair curtaining his face. "Felix Felicis," Snape answered quickly. "Liquid luck."

"Yes, precisely!" Slughorn awarded him points and launched into an explanation of the luck potion, though James only half-listened. The only thing he really needed luck for was getting Lily to be his friend. Or maybe getting chosen to be the Hogwarts champion for the Triwizard Tournament. But could he hoodwink this mysterious impartial judge? If Dumbledore was involved, even James had to admit defeat in that possibility.

"Earth to Prongs."

"Huh?"

Sirius blinked at him. "It's time to get to work?"

James pulled a face. "Yeah, yeah, alright."

His friend only cuffed him around the head. "What's gotten into you? Too much Amortentia fumes still stuck up in there?"

"Ow." James ruffled his hair. "Since when have you become a Sluggie suck-up? And I'm perfectly clear-headed, thank you very much."

Sirius fixed him with a look. "Since that liquid luck was offered up as a prize for the best Draught of Living Death, you wanker. And you are so still fumed up if you didn't hear that."

James grumbled a nonsensical retort under his breath as he flipped wildly for the right page in the textbook.

"If it's any consolation," Sirius said a little more loudly. "I think Evans is still tripping on pine and broom polish—say, you weren't thinking about my mate, here, were you?"

"Fuck you, Black."

"No, thank you," Sirius chided. "Redheads aren't exactly my type."

Lily seethed at him, looking positively murderous, but stalked off toward the supply cupboard before any of them could get another word in.

Remus sighed exasperatedly at Sirius. "D'you think you could tone it down for once in your life?"

Sirius arched a skeptical brow. "When there's liquid luck on the line? Not a chance."

James, for his part, barely followed this exchange, because his brain was still stuck on what Sirius had said moments before. You weren't thinking about my mate, here, were you?

There was only one of Sirius's mates that spent his evenings polishing his broom in the common room; only one that used a shampoo and body wash that had a piney sort of smell. Him—James.

Did that mean—did she—but no—it couldn't be—could it?

"Earth to fucking Prongs."

Lily, to the surprise of no one, earned the little vial of liquid luck and twenty points for Gryffindor to boot. James, to the surprise of neither Remus nor Sirius, spent the next week in a bizarre limbo state reassuring himself he was over Lily while trying to be ordinarily friendly while also secretly studying every possible move she made for another hint as to whether her smelling pine and broom polish meant she was attracted to him.

Her pink cheeks whenever he caught her eye pointed toward yes, but the fact that she resolutely frowned at him whenever this happened pointed toward no.

Hmm.

Finally, a whole week of torturously long days and mountains of homework later, there was a breakthrough. Peter had related how Marlene had off-handedly mentioned that Mulciber had turned his bullying ways upon Lily lately, so James figured it was time for The Marauders to make their debut. An especially grotesque whoopee cushion was procured from Zonko's during a classified trip to Hogsmeade over the weekend, disillusionment and sound magnification charms were mastered, and places were set.

As the sixth years took their seats in Transfiguration directly after lunch, Peter set off a dung bomb perfectly on cue with Mulciber's heavy slump atop the Disillusioned whoopee cushion, and the combination of noise and stench was so horrid that McGonagall gave him detention for inconsiderate bodily noises and dismissed him from her classroom before she started casting silent charms to counteract the smell.

The entire class was in fits, tears rolled freely from the corner of his eyes as his body shook with uncontrollable laughter, but the undeniably best part of it all was when Lily looked over her shoulder, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and caught his eye. James winked at her, and for perhaps the first time in his entire existence, Lily Evans grinned at him.

Maybe they could be friends after all.