Prologue 3
Chapter 1 10
Prologue
Permeating the dark and dreary atmosphere, an ever present fog hangs about the streets of a run down town. In these dark times it is impossible to tell friend from foe. Now adorned by shuttered windows and scattered litter, the stench of decay characterizes the once-metropolis of a grand society. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans: A colorful wrapper from a happier time.
Such conditions go unnoticed by this weary traveler: His mission is far too important as to allow time for commiseration. With a furtive glance in either direction, he pulls a cloak over his mane of unruly black hair. Just a bit further.
Hurrying on, his pace quickens to a sprint. Having spent his last five years at Hogwarts as the Gryffindor Seeker, the quick sprint through this town proved easy. He catches a glint of gold fluttering in the distance – That's it, just a bit further. If only she were here watching him. He missed her terribly, but after the last mission – He had no idea what became of her.
Road just ahead. A loud clunk echoes through the empty street as he trips over a battered-in door frame which lay discarded on the road. Rolling over onto his now torn invisibility cloak, he searches for his glasses. A shard of glass pricks his finger as he finds what he was looking for. Oh well, it's just a bit further.
Blood trickles down his chin as he rises to his knees. With a loud pop he resets his nose, and pauses to look at his surroundings. As he surveys the charred remains of once beautiful, yet decidedly eclectic homes tightness builds in his chest. A tightness not born of anxiety: He had faced much worse during his time as Head Boy. The pressure begins to build, crushing his ribs, making it impossible to even utter a warning to the denizens of this village. His vision turns red as he gasps for breath. Red: His pet name for her, after the vibrant color of her hair. Perhaps he would see her where he was going – Just a bit further...
Hindsight is twenty/twenty, they say – Perhaps that is why this town is deserted after nightfall. As the breezes of fall rustle through leaves in the trees, other sounds can be heard. A dull thud; the click-clack of a package rolling across loose floorboards; a soft hissing; a rustle of leaves as some unseen foe slithers along and slips into a drainage ditch.
Darkness has claimed another.
"Hi! My name is Peter!"
Parents quickly usher their children through the barrier between two platforms at a train station in London. Casting furtive glances over their shoulders, carts laden with trunks and cages seem to ...magically disappear.
"Hi! My name is Peter!"
"Like a bloody wind-up doll, that one," commented a handsome 11 year old, as a group of slightly-older young girls giggled. "Black, Sirius Black, at your service ladies."
"You can't siriusly be using that line anymore!" a thin voice called out, as another young boy wrenched his hand from his parent's grasp and trotted over. Had anyone glanced over just then, this child would have been mistaken for a Chia pet: His lanky build was capped with a mane of unruly black hair.
"Ha. Ha. Ha, James," retorted the other boy, "That was a good one!" Sirius doubled over in fake laughter, slapping his knee in mock amusement. "I haven't heard that one before... Oh, dinner yesterday afternoon? Or tea...And then there was lunch... And quite possibly breakfast."
James Potter jumped playfully on his friend's back, as the girls giggled amongst themselves and moved along. Receiving a noogie for his troubles, James landed deftly on the ground, after being tossed off by his friend.
"Now look what you went and did!" chastised Sirius, "I had them in the palm of my hand," he groaned, as the second year girls continued along towards the scarlet steam engine.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, we should get a seat before all the good ones are taken," commented James, as he strolled over to say goodbye to his parents. Sirius's had already left.
Trying to regain feeling in his hand after his father's crushing handshake, James shook it furiously as he followed Sirius into a nearly empty compartment. A very quiet boy occupied the far corner as the two plopped into adjacent seats. They smiled at him as he looked up from a book, and sat in relative silence before the door slid open one last time. James was flexing his fingers as a pudgy little boy pushed into the compartment.
"Hi! My name is Peter!"
James and Sirius chanced to meet last year, after their parents had signed them up for a Quidditch little league of sorts; albeit Sirius's parents conceded after a bit of coaxing from their son. The two became fast friends, much to the chagrin of the Black family. The Potters had been supremely understanding, and Sirius spent as much time at their residence as he did at his own.
So it was no surprise when the two picked up right where they had left off when they boarded the Hogwarts Express. Although they had never met the others with whom they shared their compartment, a jovial atmosphere quickly permeated the cramped quarters.
The Express picked up speed on its way along the invisible train tracks and chugged merrily along, as did the conversation. Remus Lupin, they found out, was a reserved lad: He preferred a good book to a good joke, but was always quick with a kind word and sly grin. The two friends were willing to wager that much more when on in his head than he was willing to let on.
"Personally, I think they should all be executed. Their kind have no place in our world," an oily voice wafted through the half-open compartment door. As James and Sirius stared quizzically through the crack in the door, their nearly silent companion tensed in his seat. Their questions were soon answered as the door slid open, and a greasy boy with stringy hair and a hooked nose stood in the doorway.
With an almost regal gaze, he surveyed the compartment, sneering at its occupants. James stood and stiffly offered his hand.
"Hello," he began, looking at the new boy.
"You," his voice seemed to ooze out of his mouth, "don't expect me to touch that?" he sneered, looking at the proffered hand.
Remus, who had been reading the same line in his book for the past several minutes stood and faced the newcomer. He barred his teeth in a half smile half snarl, and advanced on the oily boy standing before them.
"My, my, old boy," snarled the pale tyrant, "Feeling a bit uncomfortable amongst your betters?"
James and Sirius stared at each other quizzically; Peter swung his feet above the floor and took everything in with wide eyes.
"Ohh yes, I know all about you," challenged the boy with the nasally voice, "and your kind."
"I don't believe we've met," challenged Remus, staring straight at his verbal assailant.
"Severus Snape, if you must know," stated the boy demurely.
"More like Snivellus," chortled James: he and Sirius bit their fists as the joke went unheard by Snape.
"Well, Severus," began Lupin calmly, "I have been reading a fabulous article on muggles, in the Journal of Magical Medicine. It is my understanding that they have come up with a cure for skin conditions such as yours..." he trailed off, and glanced at the book he was reading.
Severus Snape looked highly affronted, and cast about the compartment for another target. Without finding one, he drew himself up and proclaimed:
"The Dark Lord has no use for your kind, I wouldn't be surprised to see his mark hovering over your home very, very, soon," threatened Snape, before spinning on his heel and walking out.
"What was that about?" asked Peter, coming out of his daze.
"Don't worry about it..." replied Remus silently, as he returned to his seat.
"He's a stuck up git," announced James.
"Dear old Snivellus," chuckled Sirius, "I think he's been spending too much time with Regulus and his pure-blood fanatic friends."
"I've got a plan," announced James and Sirius in unison, as the four boys leaned together and spoke in whispers.
The train stopped in Hogsmeade Station, and the boys disembarked from their carriage. The journey had been almost uneventful after their run-in with Snape... almost.
"Firs' years, this way!" a voice boomed out as the startled new students turned to see a lantern swinging high above their heads.
"Out of my way, you great buffoon!" screeched a first year. Without looking over, the four friends could tell who it was.
"What 'ave we 'ere?" chuckled the half-giant, as he picked the boy up by the scruff of his neck. "You got summat on yer face, son."
"Hey Snivelly!" called James.
"How's that for a Dark Mark?" asked Sirius.
"I think it's quite a fashion statement." commented Remus calmly.
Peter's gaze was transfixed on the sight before him: Severus Snape looked like a bad caricature of himself: With some black ink and a soft quill, the boys had snuck into his compartment as he dozed off on the train. His face was now decorated with images of a mustache, large round glasses, and cat whiskers.
"Boys!" sighed a young girl, as a mane of red hair shoved past the four friends, and headed for the boats that awaited them.
The four boys had a boat to themselves as they sailed across the lake towards the castle. They chuckled at their prank, and talked amongst themselves idly as the boat propelled itself across the calm surface.
"We need a name," observed James, as the conversation died down.
"How about the 'Four Musketeers'?" questioned Peter, who seemed pleased with his own originality.
"There were only three, dummy!" joked Sirius. "I know! How about the Pirates! Pirates are cool! They fight with swords and wear cool clothes!"
"This could be our ship!" chimed in James, as he looked at the small boat.
"Yo, ho, ho! I think not," commented Remus. "How about, the Marauders?"
"What kind of dumb arse name is that?" asked Sirius, as they set ashore in a large, underground cavern.
Chapter 1 The Best of Times, the Most Cryptic of Rhymes
Flickering from what little breeze slipped through the shuttered windows, a candle illuminates the form of a young girl. She brushes out her auburn hair and prepares for bed. Madison sighed as she set down her comb.
It had been seven long years since her parents were murdered, but the proprietor of the Three Broomsticks at the time, Madam Periwinkle had been gracious enough to take her in and adopt her. As time passed, Madison grew into a voluptuous young lady, the subject of many giggles amongst Hogwarts younger students during Hogsmeade weekends, and the object of many of the older boy's affections.
She had not attended any sort of formal schooling herself: Her late parents had believed in teaching magic at home, and in her current situation she had no real use of any sort of 'charms' you would learn in school.
Prologue
Permeating the dark and dreary atmosphere, an ever present fog hangs about the streets of a run down town. In these dark times it is impossible to tell friend from foe. Now adorned by shuttered windows and scattered litter, the stench of decay characterizes the once-metropolis of a grand society. Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans: A colorful wrapper from a happier time.
Such conditions go unnoticed by this weary traveler: His mission is far too important as to allow time for commiseration. With a furtive glance in either direction, he pulls a cloak over his mane of unruly black hair. Just a bit further.
Hurrying on, his pace quickens to a sprint. Having spent his last five years at Hogwarts as the Gryffindor Seeker, the quick sprint through this town proved easy. He catches a glint of gold fluttering in the distance – That's it, just a bit further. If only she were here watching him. He missed her terribly, but after the last mission – He had no idea what became of her.
Road just ahead. A loud clunk echoes through the empty street as he trips over a battered-in door frame which lay discarded on the road. Rolling over onto his now torn invisibility cloak, he searches for his glasses. A shard of glass pricks his finger as he finds what he was looking for. Oh well, it's just a bit further.
Blood trickles down his chin as he rises to his knees. With a loud pop he resets his nose, and pauses to look at his surroundings. As he surveys the charred remains of once beautiful, yet decidedly eclectic homes tightness builds in his chest. A tightness not born of anxiety: He had faced much worse during his time as Head Boy. The pressure begins to build, crushing his ribs, making it impossible to even utter a warning to the denizens of this village. His vision turns red as he gasps for breath. Red: His pet name for her, after the vibrant color of her hair. Perhaps he would see her where he was going – Just a bit further...
Hindsight is twenty/twenty, they say – Perhaps that is why this town is deserted after nightfall. As the breezes of fall rustle through leaves in the trees, other sounds can be heard. A dull thud; the click-clack of a package rolling across loose floorboards; a soft hissing; a rustle of leaves as some unseen foe slithers along and slips into a drainage ditch.
Darkness has claimed another.
"Hi! My name is Peter!"
Parents quickly usher their children through the barrier between two platforms at a train station in London. Casting furtive glances over their shoulders, carts laden with trunks and cages seem to ...magically disappear.
"Hi! My name is Peter!"
"Like a bloody wind-up doll, that one," commented a handsome 11 year old, as a group of slightly-older young girls giggled. "Black, Sirius Black, at your service ladies."
"You can't siriusly be using that line anymore!" a thin voice called out, as another young boy wrenched his hand from his parent's grasp and trotted over. Had anyone glanced over just then, this child would have been mistaken for a Chia pet: His lanky build was capped with a mane of unruly black hair.
"Ha. Ha. Ha, James," retorted the other boy, "That was a good one!" Sirius doubled over in fake laughter, slapping his knee in mock amusement. "I haven't heard that one before... Oh, dinner yesterday afternoon? Or tea...And then there was lunch... And quite possibly breakfast."
James Potter jumped playfully on his friend's back, as the girls giggled amongst themselves and moved along. Receiving a noogie for his troubles, James landed deftly on the ground, after being tossed off by his friend.
"Now look what you went and did!" chastised Sirius, "I had them in the palm of my hand," he groaned, as the second year girls continued along towards the scarlet steam engine.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, we should get a seat before all the good ones are taken," commented James, as he strolled over to say goodbye to his parents. Sirius's had already left.
Trying to regain feeling in his hand after his father's crushing handshake, James shook it furiously as he followed Sirius into a nearly empty compartment. A very quiet boy occupied the far corner as the two plopped into adjacent seats. They smiled at him as he looked up from a book, and sat in relative silence before the door slid open one last time. James was flexing his fingers as a pudgy little boy pushed into the compartment.
"Hi! My name is Peter!"
James and Sirius chanced to meet last year, after their parents had signed them up for a Quidditch little league of sorts; albeit Sirius's parents conceded after a bit of coaxing from their son. The two became fast friends, much to the chagrin of the Black family. The Potters had been supremely understanding, and Sirius spent as much time at their residence as he did at his own.
So it was no surprise when the two picked up right where they had left off when they boarded the Hogwarts Express. Although they had never met the others with whom they shared their compartment, a jovial atmosphere quickly permeated the cramped quarters.
The Express picked up speed on its way along the invisible train tracks and chugged merrily along, as did the conversation. Remus Lupin, they found out, was a reserved lad: He preferred a good book to a good joke, but was always quick with a kind word and sly grin. The two friends were willing to wager that much more when on in his head than he was willing to let on.
"Personally, I think they should all be executed. Their kind have no place in our world," an oily voice wafted through the half-open compartment door. As James and Sirius stared quizzically through the crack in the door, their nearly silent companion tensed in his seat. Their questions were soon answered as the door slid open, and a greasy boy with stringy hair and a hooked nose stood in the doorway.
With an almost regal gaze, he surveyed the compartment, sneering at its occupants. James stood and stiffly offered his hand.
"Hello," he began, looking at the new boy.
"You," his voice seemed to ooze out of his mouth, "don't expect me to touch that?" he sneered, looking at the proffered hand.
Remus, who had been reading the same line in his book for the past several minutes stood and faced the newcomer. He barred his teeth in a half smile half snarl, and advanced on the oily boy standing before them.
"My, my, old boy," snarled the pale tyrant, "Feeling a bit uncomfortable amongst your betters?"
James and Sirius stared at each other quizzically; Peter swung his feet above the floor and took everything in with wide eyes.
"Ohh yes, I know all about you," challenged the boy with the nasally voice, "and your kind."
"I don't believe we've met," challenged Remus, staring straight at his verbal assailant.
"Severus Snape, if you must know," stated the boy demurely.
"More like Snivellus," chortled James: he and Sirius bit their fists as the joke went unheard by Snape.
"Well, Severus," began Lupin calmly, "I have been reading a fabulous article on muggles, in the Journal of Magical Medicine. It is my understanding that they have come up with a cure for skin conditions such as yours..." he trailed off, and glanced at the book he was reading.
Severus Snape looked highly affronted, and cast about the compartment for another target. Without finding one, he drew himself up and proclaimed:
"The Dark Lord has no use for your kind, I wouldn't be surprised to see his mark hovering over your home very, very, soon," threatened Snape, before spinning on his heel and walking out.
"What was that about?" asked Peter, coming out of his daze.
"Don't worry about it..." replied Remus silently, as he returned to his seat.
"He's a stuck up git," announced James.
"Dear old Snivellus," chuckled Sirius, "I think he's been spending too much time with Regulus and his pure-blood fanatic friends."
"I've got a plan," announced James and Sirius in unison, as the four boys leaned together and spoke in whispers.
The train stopped in Hogsmeade Station, and the boys disembarked from their carriage. The journey had been almost uneventful after their run-in with Snape... almost.
"Firs' years, this way!" a voice boomed out as the startled new students turned to see a lantern swinging high above their heads.
"Out of my way, you great buffoon!" screeched a first year. Without looking over, the four friends could tell who it was.
"What 'ave we 'ere?" chuckled the half-giant, as he picked the boy up by the scruff of his neck. "You got summat on yer face, son."
"Hey Snivelly!" called James.
"How's that for a Dark Mark?" asked Sirius.
"I think it's quite a fashion statement." commented Remus calmly.
Peter's gaze was transfixed on the sight before him: Severus Snape looked like a bad caricature of himself: With some black ink and a soft quill, the boys had snuck into his compartment as he dozed off on the train. His face was now decorated with images of a mustache, large round glasses, and cat whiskers.
"Boys!" sighed a young girl, as a mane of red hair shoved past the four friends, and headed for the boats that awaited them.
The four boys had a boat to themselves as they sailed across the lake towards the castle. They chuckled at their prank, and talked amongst themselves idly as the boat propelled itself across the calm surface.
"We need a name," observed James, as the conversation died down.
"How about the 'Four Musketeers'?" questioned Peter, who seemed pleased with his own originality.
"There were only three, dummy!" joked Sirius. "I know! How about the Pirates! Pirates are cool! They fight with swords and wear cool clothes!"
"This could be our ship!" chimed in James, as he looked at the small boat.
"Yo, ho, ho! I think not," commented Remus. "How about, the Marauders?"
"What kind of dumb arse name is that?" asked Sirius, as they set ashore in a large, underground cavern.
Chapter 1 The Best of Times, the Most Cryptic of Rhymes
Flickering from what little breeze slipped through the shuttered windows, a candle illuminates the form of a young girl. She brushes out her auburn hair and prepares for bed. Madison sighed as she set down her comb.
It had been seven long years since her parents were murdered, but the proprietor of the Three Broomsticks at the time, Madam Periwinkle had been gracious enough to take her in and adopt her. As time passed, Madison grew into a voluptuous young lady, the subject of many giggles amongst Hogwarts younger students during Hogsmeade weekends, and the object of many of the older boy's affections.
She had not attended any sort of formal schooling herself: Her late parents had believed in teaching magic at home, and in her current situation she had no real use of any sort of 'charms' you would learn in school.