If there was one thing James Potter knew how to do, it was keep a secret. His friends and classmates may not believe you if you told them this, but it was none the less true. He knew he could because he had, since third year, been keeping a very BIG and very exciting secret.
James Potter lived for the thrill. He was an adrenaline junky. It was why he played Quidditch; it was why he kept the friends he did; it was why he continually goaded Severus; it was why he courted Lily Evans, despite her complete disdain for him; and it was why, after a full night of wandering the halls with the Marauders, he chose to sneak out of the dorms beneath his invisibility cloak and venture into the Forbidden Forest... alone.
It was one thing to risk the danger of being caught by Professors or a prank gone bad. Aside from the full moons, when the fun really began, the only real danger he faced was here. No one knew where he was, or that he was even gone. Certainly no one at Hogwarts knew the way to where he went, night after night, as if transfixed by the landscape and mystique.
It was in their third year, when Remus had gotten away from them and the Marauders had split up to find him, that James had stumbled upon his find. He knew the instant he stepped hoof within the circle of stones that he had found hollowed ground. What it was doing here, so deep in the forest as to be almost indistinguishable from the trees and foliage where it made its home, was beyond him. To be honest, he didn't even care. That it was lost within the depths of the forest meant that no other had found it, for it was clear that the land was long undisturbed.
With a soft sound, he had scraped his antlers against the nearest stone which formed the still-active circle, pulling away the vines of time to reveal the weather-smoothed marble beneath. There was magic here: great power the likes of which he had never seen or heard of before. Even now, as he lay his hand upon the cool marble, marveling in the sight of the clean stones which towered above his head--some leaning, yet still holding their ground despite the years--the draw of this locale confused him.
Certainly when he came, week after week and year after year, to this spot it was clear that something had drawn him. He had cleared away most of the forest's intrusions during that time--pushed back the hand of time as much as one boy could. Somehow he knew that the power here had grown stronger through his aide, just as he felt some sort of gratitude that was not his own well up within him each time he stepped into the circle. Cloak dropping from his shoulders, the dark-haired Marauder found the flat stone that marked the circle's center and sat, legs crossed beneath him. Here were mysteries beyond the simple teachings of Hogwarts. Here was power, strength, and danger.
For there was something wild about the Circle, something the boy could never understand, even though he now approached manhood in his years. James did things here that even he did not will, his hand guided by a stronger force. At times he feared that the Headmaster, who often met his eyes in a way that made him feel like the man could see to his very soul, knew that he came to this place. If it was so, Dumbledore never stopped him.
This would be his last visit to the ruins. The noble stag would soon graduate, alongside his dear friends, and move on to other, perhaps more dangerous greater things. To his great surprise, his persistence had even won him the hand of the fiery girl he had perused all these years, and something told him her fierce heart would tame his recklessness. Perhaps it was the stones that told him so, as he gestured in the patterns that only they understood.
Somehow he knew that this was the start of a new era, both for himself and for the Circle. He would shield them, now, with his power: add a layer of protection to the barriers they already had. This was hollowed ground, a sanctuary, and few indeed were allowed to share--and increase--the Circle's power. James knew he was not the last, but he took comfort in the fact that the next would be of his blood. Perhaps the Circle chose favorites...