Hi guys! So, this is my new project after my failed attempt at the other fanfic. I just kind of fell out of love with it and it wasn't really going where I wanted it to go which is weird because I wrote it but hey, what can you do? Hopefully this will be much better. I'm planning on doing all of James' years at Hogwarts, the Marauder James, not Harry's James, and I'll keep as close to canon as possible, but there may be a few slight tweaks, such as Mr Potter's occupation, but I hope you'll all be alright with that. Chapters will be uploaded as frequently as possible and I'll only include Author's Notes such as this when necessary. This chapter is shorter than the other ones that I will be doing, so don't worry about the length. See ya next time!

Chapter 1: Preparations for School

James was too excited to sleep. This was the third night in a row that he had had difficulty passing into the delightful void of pleasant dreams. He lay awake, tossing and turning, until he eventually got up and moved to the window. It was weird really, bizarre when you looked at it, because the thing that had him this worked up was school. Not just any school though, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! As soon as he had been old enough to understand, his parents had revealed the truth to him. He was, well they all were, wizards.

He remembered with a certain fondness the time where it all sank in. As a five year old, James had been astounded when his mum had waved her wand and sent all of the dirty dishes from tea into the sink to begin cleaning themselves. Mrs Potter had simply laughed while Mr Potter made objects on the table fly around the shrieking child's head. He had also been delighted when he learned that he could do that too, even if it would be a lot of years before he mastered it.

Mr Potter was a tall, intimidating figure at first glance, and was indeed a very powerful wizard. He stood at maybe six foot four and had hair the same colour as James, raven black. However, it was nowhere near as untidy as James' hair, as Mr Potter was an exceptionally neat wizard, and very put together. Once one got to know James' father, one would realise that he had a great sense of humour, that his wife constantly chided him for, and he was in fact a very amicable person. As a prominent member of the Auror Office, his intimidating presence was hugely helpful. The Aurors were a branch of the Ministry of Magic that specialised in the detection, defeat and capture of dark wizards. They mostly caught petty criminals, but there came an odd time where they were called upon to apprehend wizards of a more dangerous nature. Mr Potter often compared the Aurors to a group of muggles called "poh-lease men", who did much the same for the muggle world. What they could do without wands, James wasn't sure, but if they were anything like his father then they were clearly more powerful than they seemed.

Mrs Potter was much like her husband, and seemingly gave no thought nor care to the phrase "opposites attract". Euphemia Potter had mousy coloured hair, with only the faintest trace of grey that signified her age. Like her husband, she had been a bit further on in life when they had been blessed with the joy of having James. She was just shy of five foot five and had brown eyes. They weren't a horrible, mucky brown though, they were more like a doe's eyes, gentle and beautiful, until she was angered. James' mother had the most terrifying temper of anyone alive. Both James and his dad had been on the receiving end of one of her withering glares, which they often joked could paralyze a Basilisk. Aside from when she was angry, Mrs Potter was a delightful person. She was kind, caring and compassionate, and every bit the ideal maternal figure.

James' mum and dad owned a small potions company, devised by Mr Potter soon after he had left school, named "Potter's Perfect Potions: All of your needs in a bottle". They were rarely doing anything to do with the company, as it was mostly self running, with the managerial staff taking care of anything that arose, leaving Mr and Mrs Potter at a loss of what to do in their spare time. This lead to Mr Potter taking up a job in the Auror Office, and Mrs Potter had turned to the hobby of cooking and baking. There was seldom a weekend that went by that didn't result in a new batch of cookies or the like.

James had spent a lot of time flicking through his new textbooks that they had purchased in Diagon Alley, the best place to buy wizarding supplies, and quite possibly the best place James had ever visited. His two favourite shops had been Ollivander's Wand Shop, for the obvious reason that he had bought his wand from there, and Quality Quidditch Supplies, where, begrudgingly, Mrs Potter had spent two hours whilst James chatted with the owner in extreme length about brooms, broom care, and the wizard sport of Quidditch.

James brought out his wand now, an eleven inch long mahogany extension of his arm, or that was what it felt like. Mr Ollivander had said that this was good, as the wand had clearly found it's perfect master. James didn't quite understand that though, as Mr Ollivander told him that the wand chooses the wizard, but didn't James choose the wand when he bought it? He had also been told that his wand was very "pliable" and "excellent for Transfiguration", only one of which was understood right away. He knew what Transfiguration was, as it was plastered all over one of his school textbooks, making it a subject, but he had to ask his parents what pliable meant.

Unfortunately, Mrs Potter had downright refused to buy James a broomstick for his first year at Hogwarts, saying that flying lessons began in second year and students weren't allowed to participate in Quidditch until then either. James had been quite put out at the time, so Mr Potter had come up with a few tactful arguments of his own to keep James happy. He had told James that buying him a broom he wouldn't use would waste money that could be used for buying him a newer brand than the Cleansweep he had wanted next year, when he could use it. James had happily agreed, to both of his parent's delight, but had not shut up about brooms all the way home until Mrs Potter had threatened to glue his mouth closed with magic.

James thought more about Hogwarts. Supposedly, it was a huge castle in the middle of the countryside that had many protective enchantments around it to stop people from entering. One of such was that it was unplottable. This meant that it couldn't be located on a map of any kind, ensuring that it could not be found easily by people who wished to harm the school or it's inhabitants. Why anyone would want to target a school was a mystery to James, but it was cool all the same.

Another cool enchantment was that no one could Apparate in or out of the Hogwarts grounds. Apparition was a seriously difficult branch of magic that could end with disastrous results. It involved teleporting oneself to a different place through magic, disassembling and then reassembling yourself in the place you wanted to be. If you didn't focus hard enough then you could splinch. James had never seen this but from what his father had said it wasn't pretty. If you splinched then you could leave part of yourself behind in the place that you Apparated from. You had to be seventeen to have a license, but Apparition classes were given at Hogwarts in sixth year.

He picked his Transfiguration book up from the desk on which it lay and looked at the front cover. With the familiar bubble of excitement in his stomach that he had come to associate with magic, he opened to the page that was marked with a torn strip of parchment and read the spell he had been attempting to practice. His parents had allowed him to experiment with a few simple charms, and his father had even gone so far as to teach him a neat little hex that would force soap bubbles out of the recipients mouth. His father shared that he used this in questioning when the arrested party began too use particularly foul language, and also in school himself as a prank.

Aside from these simple spells, his mum and dad had strictly forbidden magic until he had attended Hogwarts. "For his own safety" they had said. James reckoned that he could handle it though, and with a flick of his wand and the words "Flintifors" the simple white feathered quill he had cast the spell on turned promptly into a matchbox. James punched the air silently in elation. Unfortunately, he punched with his wand arm, sending off red sparks before a loud "Bang!" sounded, sending him scrambling away from the matchbox, or what was left of it. There was a smoking scorch mark on his desk where the matchbox/quill had been.

"That's what spare quills are for," James thought as he surveyed the damage, "blowing up in failed experiments."

Just then his bedroom door imploded with great force to reveal Mr Potter with his wand drawn and in his dressing gown, alert for danger. As he took in the sight before him he relaxed. Just as James thought he was in the clear, Mr Potter said "James. You. Are. In. So. Much. Trouble." He straightened and appeared to calm himself before flicking his own wand, sending all of James' school things, robes, books, cauldron, scales, even his wand, into the open school trunk at the end of the room before sealing it shut and turning to his son.

"I'd rather not have to do that every time you are at home, so don't be making a habit of it. Am I clear?" He warned, staring disapprovingly at the younger Potter.

"Crystal, dad." James said apologetically, before grinning. "It was pretty wicked though."

Surprisingly, Mr Potter smiled.

"All right, it was good, I'll give you that." He said ruefully. "But no more, understand?" James nodded and made to go back to bed, only to sit up again and move to the window as soon as his dad closed the door.

On the other side of James' bedroom door, Mr Potter chuckled quietly. He remembered the excitement of the build up to the first year at Hogwarts. He blissfully recalled his own experiences at the school and smiled. Unfortunately, he doubted that James would have such a peaceful time as he did at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as something was happening in the wizarding world. Something he had been keeping from his ever inquisitive, curious, upbeat, mischievous son. Something big.