Hello! Thank you for deeming this story worthy enough of reading.
Hate Is Such a Strong Word is a Marauder's Era fic about Sirius', James', Peter's, and Remus' first year at Hogwarts.
Before I begin the story, let me give you a brief personality check. We all know where James and Sirius came from - James came from a loving, supportive, not to mention rather rich family. Sirius came from an equally rich family, but all his parents care about is power and wealth, often ignoring their eldest son. But what about Remus and Peter?
Remus grew up with his mother and father in a loving environment. He is an only child, and his family isn't the richest around. They aren't horribly poor, but fairly low-middle class. He's a half-blood, with his father being a pure-blooded wizard and his mother being a muggleborn.
Peter's mother and father run an inn, and the family lives on the top two floors. He's a Muggleborn, and knows nothing about it until he's thrown into it headfirst. He couldn't be any more confused.
Now that that is finished, we'll get on with the story. This is "The Prologue: The Letters".
I hope you enjoy it, and tell me what you think in a review, if you don't mind!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own the Marauders or any other familiar characters in this story, and I am not getting money off of this story. Boo hoo.
Hate Is Such a Strong Word
PROLOGUE:
The Letters
By PotterScar
SIRIUS ORION BLACK:
Toujours Pur... always pure...
"SIRIUS!"
The screech of a woman erupted from the floor below. Her voice seemed several octaves higher than a normal person's voice, and her son swore that she was half-banshee, at the least.
The formerly mentioned son shoved his fingers in his ears, swearing under his breath. "I'll be right there, Mother!" he hollered back, silenting the annoying grating of his mother's voice.
Wondering what the hell he did this time, Sirius Black opened the door to his room and stepped out into the poorly lit hallway, very dim compared to his sun-filled room. He was the only one in the house that ever pulled back the curtains. His family was like a bunch of bloody vampires, honestly.
Striding down the dim corridor, he walked past the row of house-elves' heads (he couldn't wait to see Kreacher's up there someday), past the portraits of past Blacks, past the curtain drawn over Merlin-knew-what (Sirius was forbidden to touch it - he presumed it to be a door of sorts, but he couldn't be sure, of course), and finally made it to the stairs.
Thumping down them, he came onto the ground floor of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He could hear his parents murmuring softly in the kitchen, and he knocked on the door. A Black must always make his or her prescence announced; never is a Black to barge into a room univited, said his mother in his head.
"Come in," came the booming voice of his father, and Sirius opened the door, laying his cool grey eyes on his parents.
Celena Black could pass off as pretty if she wasn't wearing an ugly look on her face. Her long silvery-blonde hair reached her mid-back, and her ice-blue eyes surveyed her son, looking for flaws in his appearance. Unable to find anything wrong - his shirt untucked, an untied shoe, a hair out of place - she turned to her husband.
Orion Black resembled his son greatly. They both had black hair, though Orion's was longer than Sirius' - while Sirius' only skimmed his ears and fell lazily over his eyes, Orions hung sleekly to his shoulders. They both had stormy grey eyes, though Sirius' had traces of blue in them. A letter was held firmly in his hand, and he looked at his eldest son, the heir to the Black family fortune.
"Stand up straight," he instructed, and Sirius stood up even straighter than before, as if a yardstick was pressed firmly to his spine. Orion nodded. "Your Hogwarts letter has arrived today."
Sirius restrained himself from whooping with joy. He nodded curtly, keeping a cool mask on firmly to avoid giving away emotion. A Black never shows emotion. Blacks don't wear their hearts on their sleeves. Only weak people do. Blacks aren't weak, rang his father's voice.
"We expect you to respect your fellow Slytherins and your Professors, even if you don't like them." His mother said. "We especially want you to show special respect towards the Slytherin Head of House, Horace Slughorn. You disobey," at this, his mother narrowed her eyes. "You disobey, and the consquences are serious. Your cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa will be keeping an eye on you."
Sirius nodded once more and said mechanically, "Yes, Mother."
Sirius' father and mother nodded with approval, small smiles on their faces. Their son wouldn't fail them. "Good. You are dismissed." Sirius bowed deeply and bid his parents good afternoon, before leaving the room.
"He's learning quickly. We shall celebrate once he is sorted into Slytherin," his mother said, looking over at her husband.
JAMES CHRISTOPHER POTTER
Perfect on the outside, lonely on the inside...
June 21st dawned bright and beautiful. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Kids were outside, playing rowdy games of Quidditch and Muggle Tag.
It seemed like every child in the neighborhood was outside, even though it was barely ten in the morning. It had to be one of the nicest days that the Wizarding neighborhood of Snidget Boulevard had ever had.
One child, however, wasn't outside. He was standing at his kitchen window, one hand raised to the glass and barely touching it, looking down the hill his mansion resided on and watching the game of Quidditch going on between the boys and the girls below in the valley.
A shock of black hair fell into his eyes, and he watched the fourteen players below and the half-dozen kids cheering them on. James Potter knew he should be out there. He knew he was easily one of the best Quidditch players in the neighborhood. He knew the rulebook cover to cover, he'd seen every Quidditch game that Puddlemere United, his favorite team, had played, and he even owned a broomstick.
He had tried to befriend the kids below, but they just wouldn't accept him. James' family was easily the richest in the neighborhood, surpassing the Prewetts, the Applebys, and the Abbotts. When he asked if he could play a game with them, they would hurriedly say they had too many players, maybe he could play another time?
Of course, you got used to it after a while. Maybe it wouldn't be so badif James had siblings... but he was an only child, because his mother and father didn't have enough time for two children.
Hell, they don't even have enough time for me, James thought to himself, not watching the Quidditch game anymore, but just staring unseeingly out the window.
Turning away from the window, he busyed himself with making a turkey sandwich. Just as he was taking out the small bag of turkey slices his mother had pre-cut, there was an impatient tap coming from across the kitchen.
James jumped nearly two feet in the air, startled by the interruption of silence that had been in the kitchen. Wildly, he searched for the source of the noise, and he found it.
At the window, looking in at him with an annoyed look on it's face, was a handsome tawny owl with a thick parchment envelope tied to its leg.
Dropping the bag of turkey on the kitchen counter, he strode over to the window and unlatched it, throwing it open. The owl fluttered in, landed on the kitchen table, thrusting out the leg bearing the envelope.
His fingers trembling with excitement, he untied the letter from the owl's leg. It stood and watched him patiently with it's amber eyes. Glimpsing briefly at the front, he carefully tore the Hogwarts seal from the parchment, withdrawing a letter from it and unfolding it with mounting excitement.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Grinning like mad, he dashed over to the drawers next to the refridgerator and dug through them, looking for a bit of parchment, a quill, and an ink pot. Finding them within a few minutes, he scrawled his acceptance, recorked the ink pot, and shoved the quill and ink away, folding up the parchment and writing "Hogwarts" on the front.
Giving the owl a crust of bread as thanks, he tied the letter to the leg of the owl. After it finished its treat, the owl hooted its thanks and flew out the open window.
James grabbed the now empty envelope, the letter of acceptance, and the equipment list and dashed up the stairs to his room, still smiling, to owl his mother and father.
REMUS JOHN LUPIN
Secrets really aren't any fun...
"Remus, dear, are you awake? Your breakfast is beginning to get cold," called the sweet voice of a woman through the door of her son's bedroom.
The son groaned in response. "Yeah, Mum, I'll be out in a minute," he said back, his voice hoarse. The woman's footsteps faded as she walked back to the kitchen, and the boy layed in bed for several minutes before sighing and swinging his legs out from beneath the warm covers. Slipping his now freezing feet into warm slippers, he stumbled out of his room and down the hall, to the bathroom.
Grabbing his hairbrush, he pulled it through his brown locks of hair, observing the scar running from behind his ear to the nape of his neck sadly. Scanning over the rest of his reflection with amber eyes, he noticed that he was looking awful. He was pale and sickly, looking as if he was either ill or just getting over the summer flu.
Setting down the hairbrush after his short hair was sufficiently tangle-free, he turned off the bathroom light and padded softly down the hall, in the direction of the kitchen. He could hear his mother bustling with the tea kettle, and he smiled in spite of himself.
When Remus Lupin entered the kitchen, his mother looked up at her son and frowned. "Remus, dear, you still don't look well, and the full moon was three days ago. Come here, let me get you a potion..." Sarah Lupin looked through the potions stocked in her kitchen cabinets, looking at the labels and tutting. "Oh, dear, these have all expired... ah! Here's a good one! Remus, dear, remind me to go down to Diagon Alley later and pick up some more healing potions..."
Remus took the periwinkle colored potion from Sarah, drinking five sips as indicated and handing it back. She recorked it, pushing it back into the cabinet full of medicines and such. Most of them seemed to be pain-relievers, healers, and Blood-Replenishers.
Curious.
"Where's Dad?" Remus asked, seating himself in front of a big plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast. His mother poured steaming tea into two chipped teacups. She handed him one and took a sip from her own, before answering.
"He had to go to work early," Sarah replied. Her husband, Blake Lupin, worked in the Control of Magically Enchanted Items, which wasn't a very large department. Mr. Lupin's office was smaller than a broom cupboard.
Spearing a sausage, he nodded and took a bite of the meat, savoring the taste. His mother took a seat across the table from him, unfolding the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and reading the front page. After a few minutes, she tutted.
"Honestly, you think a fully grown wizard would have more sense," she clucked, looking vaguely agitated. Remus looked up from his eggs.
"What is it, Mum?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Sarah sighed.
"A wizard from the Department of Magical Creature Control thought that a bunch of Firebogs surrounding his home were ordinary chickens, so he fed them corn. They ended up breathing flame and setting fire to his home. Stupid, stupid man," she said.
Remus was still confused. "Why would feeding them corn be a problem?"
Sarah pursed her lips. "You never feed a Firebog anything material. They eat air. If they're willingly fed something material, they breathe flame. Honestly, how could this man think a Firebog was a chicken?"
Remus blinked. "Are there differences in appearances?" he asked.
His mother nodded. "Great differences. Firebogs are always a smokey grey color with red tipped wings and red beaks. And this man works with magical creatures!"
Remus smiled slightly. "It must be a slow news day, seeing as the front page's story is about chickens and Firebogs."
Sarah snorted. "Yup. I suppose no news is good news."
Remus knew she was referring to the recent attacks that had been happening all over Britain. Cloaked figures that called themselves... what was the word? Death Makers? It didn't matter. Some insane guy led them, thinking all half-bloods and Muggle-borns should be killed. Nobody really took him seriously at first, until he started attacking people a few months ago.
A tinny tap on the window in next to the sink made Sarah look up from her paper and Remus look up from his breakfast. A tawny owl was observing the two Lupins, its wings folded to the sides of its body. A letter was firmly tied around its leg, and it tapped the window once more with its beak.
Sarah got up and opened the window, allowing the owl entrance. It hooted, staying on the windowsill and sticking out its leg so she could relieve it of the letter. Swiftly, she untied the letter and read the front, breaking out in a huge grin.
"A Hogwarts letter!" she practically squealed. She didn't know if her son, with his condition, could attend Hogwarts at all.
Remus rocketed out of his chair. "Lemme see!" he cried, taking the letter from his mother and ripping it open, reading the note inside:
Dear Mr. Lupin,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
P.S. We are aware of your condition and Headmaster Dumbledore doesn't see why you cannot attend school, as long as certain precautions are taken. Have a good summer term.
Remus' mother embraced her son, happy beyond belief. "We must Floo call your father, dear!" she said, and Remus wasn't listening. All he could think about was the school year that lay ahead.
PETER MICHAEL PETTIGREW
Being flung headfirst into another world isn't the best experience.
The Pettigrew Inn was dead silent. All of its occupants were out for the day, shopping or whatnot. The only people who still occupied The Inn were the owners, the Pettigrew family.
Michael Pettigrew was a man of average height, with blue eyes and brown hair. He was extraordinarily ambitious, and knew just how to get his way if he wanted something but it was denied to him.
His wife, June Pettigrew, was a petite woman with short light-blonde hair and dark brown eyes. She had an even temper, hardly ever yelled, and always found the good in people.
They had a son, Peter, who was short and blonde like his mother but inherited his father's eyes. He also inherited his mother's personality- he was quiet and didn't possess a temper. He had never yelled in his entire life.
It was a normal Monday, really. Peter sat cross-legged on his bed, reading Antigone by Sophecles for his summer reading list for school. Raising one hand to his mouth, he yawned widely and continued to read, until he was interuppted by a rather loud tap on his window.
Lifting his eyes from the book, he expected to see nothing, as the neighbor boys liked to throw pebbles at the windows. To say he was shocked by the prescence of an owl on his windowsill was an understatement. And if the owl wasn't enough, there was a letter tied to its leg.
A letter!
Peter assumed he was going mad.
To check his theory, he opened the window and stuck his hand out, expecting it to go right through the owl and he would just feel air. Instead, his hand collided with warm feathers, and the owl squawked, looking highly affronted, and nipped his hand.
Peter jerked his bleeding hand back into the room, and the owl took advantage of the open window to flutter in and stick out its leg. It was peering at him irritably, looking like it would like to bite his head off.
Watching the owl warily, the boy untied the letter and looked at it.
Mr. P. Pettigrew
Room Number 328
19 Parkson Avenue
London
England
It was addressed to him! Turning it over to open the envelope, he paused in mid-rip. Instead of being sealed with a sticker of sorts, it was shut with a wax crest bearing a badger, a serpent, a lion, and an eagle, all entwined around an "H" in the middle.
Curious.
Opening the envelope fully, he pulled out a piece of folded paper, but thicker... what was it called? Parchment? As he pulled this out, another sheet fluttered unnoticed to the floor.
Unfolding it, he began to read, his eyes growing bigger with each word. When the words "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" came up, his jaw hit the floor.
Dropping the letter, he snatched up the piece of parchment that had fallen on the floor and scanned it, fingers trembling.
A wand? A cauldron?
A broom?
Peter looked up from the supply list, still silent and four shades paler than usual, before...
"MUM!"
So, how did you like it? Please review! Constructive criticism is appreciated, flames are ignored, praise is loved!
'Til next time,
PotterScar