Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Harry Potter books belong to J. K. Rowling, and I do not own the text of The Sorcerer's Stone that will occur in the following pages.

Author's Note: There have been quite a few "Marauders read Harry Potter" stories going around, but from what I skimmed through, they are all a bit one-note. This is my attempt at fixing that, because there is so much you can do with this idea. I hope you like it.

Summary: Sirius, desperate after Lily and James' death, invokes an old and obscure curse that will save their lives. Except things don't end up the way he planned... and the Marauders are in for a big surprise back in the past.

Out of Desperation
by PiperPaigePhoebe01

Prologue

When he heard the news, he wasn't sure how to react.

Anger roared up in him first—how dare he do that, how dare Peter betray us like that—but was soon replaced by guilt—how could I have been so stupid? Obviously it was Peter—and then shame—dark and deep—and grief roared up inside him.

Desperation was next.

He pressed his hands into fists, angry tears building up in his eyes. And then he looked up, desperate, determined, and dug around in his pocket for his wand. His fingers closed around it, he lifted it out of his pocket, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the night.

There was a brief squeezing sensation—which was actually welcome; it squeezed his feelings down, deep down—and then he reappeared, right in front of an old, disheveled-looking house.

He didn't allow himself to think, because if he did, he would surely second guess himself. Instead, he stomped his way up to the house and the large brass door. A serpent knocker was placed directly in the middle, but Sirius didn't pay much mind to it. He pulled on the doorknob a bit harder than necessary, and the door flew open, a great cloud of dust greeting him.

He coughed once, then twice, holding his hand up to his nose. Without preamble, he entered the dark and dreary house.

Now, where was it?

Damn it, why isn't there a map or something?

Sirius punched the nearest wall as he walked by, but then broke into a run. He ran up the steps to the attic—hopefully it was there, it needed to be there—kicking up piles of dust from the carpet.

It seemed to take a decade to reach the attic, but he did eventually, only to stop in his tracks at the boxes piled up.

There had to be a hundred boxes—and none of them were labeled, all of them covered with a thick layer of dust.

Damn it.

Sirius didn't know where to start. A string of curses released themselves from their bindings, escaping into the room. He finally decided to just sit down and pull the box closest to him, only to remember, abruptly, like he had suddenly forgotten, that he was clutching his wand tightly.

Letting one more curse escape, he stood up and whispered.

"Accio book."

Nothing happened.

"Fuck." He let out a breath, and spoke louder. "Accio book."

Again, nothing.

"Bloody, fucking hell." He closed his eyes, anger coursing through his veins, and spoke. "Accio book."

Finally, there was a commotion in the corner farthest from him, like a box was moving across a friction-rich floor, and then a crash of another box falling. Shane let out another huge breath, this one of relief, and climbed around and over boxes, until he finally reached the source of the commotion.

Not willing to get his hopes up quite yet, he tried to keep himself contained as he slowly opened the box. More dust arose as Sirius lifted the thin, protective covering off the top, revealing a thick, leather-bound book.

He recognized the book.

He had gotten it right.

And yet...

Doubt rose in his mind, but... no, he wasn't one to let guilt get the better of himself. He lifted the book out of the box carefully, setting it on the floor beside him. The memories suddenly came back to him as he flipped through the book; it only took him a second to reach the page he needed.

The title jumped out at him.

How to Change What Was, What Is, and What Will Be.

The title sounded like a solemn bell toll in his ears, a warning sign, but he didn't mind it. In situations like this, he never paid attention to his common sense.

A knot grew in his stomach as he imagined James' comment to that.

("You have common sense? You, Sirius Black? I never woulda thought!" with a cheeky grin and a shove.)

Come on, Padfoot.

Get it together. You are doing it for them.

That, more than anything, braced him for the task he was about to do. As he readied his wand, he summoned to mind James' bright Animagus form, a stag, on one of the fun nights with Moony—another knot tied itself in his stomach at the thought of him—when Padfoot and Prongs had wrestled while Wormtail hung onto Moony by biting his tail, which Moony was definitely not happy about.

And Lily.

Lily, Lily, Lily.

He couldn't say he liked Lily, but he put up with her because, well, James was in love with her, and it's not like you could hate her for that. And he had to say she was a fine bird, all fiery red hair and bright green eyes like grass.

He clutched his wand so tightly his knuckles turned white. His eyes scanned the incantation on the page for a few minutes, followed by the directions, until he was sure he knew it by heart.

This was it.

He took a deep breath, let it out.

The incantation ran itself through his mind once more. Sirius slowly began reciting it, closing his eyes. He could feel his wand move through the pattern he had memorized, feel the magic embrace him, fill him, surround him, until that was all he could feel. He heard himself continue to recite the incantation, even though he was no longer consciously doing it.

The last syllable escaped his lips, and the feeling of magic was abruptly gone, and with it, he could feel his breath leave for a brief moment.

Inhale, exhale.

He repeated this a few times, until his breathing was back to normal. He dropped his wand and reached into his other pocket.

There was a glint of silver.

Silver glinted against tan skin, then—red. He gasped, panted, for breath as the brief sting of the cut overtook him, and then blood ran down his arm. Sirius raised his arm, right over the parchment, and watched as blood ran down his arm, down the toned muscles, and then as it clung to his skin for a brief moment, and finally, slowly, one drop dripped onto the parchment.

It began dissolving—

And then there was an explosion, smoke came into his eyes. He couldn't breathe—he was overcome—oh, bloody hell—

Blackness covered his vision.

He fell, down, down, down.

And a book landed with a soft thump on a bed.

-

Author's Note: Okay, so there it is. Please review and tell me what you think?