a/n: i'm back, and, for anyone who cares, am re-uploading this story with some tweaks here and there. for anyone out there who read the old beginning, middle, and end, i'll be putting up the same chapters, but fixed up where i see fit. i'll hopefully then continue the story to where i originally intended in the beginning! thank you, and i hope you enjoy! :)

disclaimer: harry potter isn't mine, but i'm flattered if you thought it was!

Prologue

Fate

Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. A werewolf with a heart of gold and intelligent, sarcastic humor, a quick-witted, insecure, and cheerful youngest of five, a pretty boy with biting wit from a wealthy family who felt like he didn't belong, and the epitome of a wizarding teenage boy: handsome, star of the Quidditch team, complete with impeccable comedic timing, more than a dash of arrogance, and a knack for pranks. Friends who were so close it was like their minds were synced. Legend has it, one could mutter one of his friends' name on one side of the country and that person would say "what?" on the other. Fate works in funny ways sometimes, and it certainly did with the four lads from different walks of life.

Before Hogwarts, every morning Remus Lupin would think about how he was a waste of a life. Not the most pleasant thought for a kid to start their day with. Every morning he'd look in the mirror, look at the scars on his face and his sickly complexion and try and will it all to go away with sheer brain power. All his parents' money problems that had to do with him still being alive, all the dark things he saw in his werewolf in a wizard's world, a life he didn't ask to live. He would go downstairs shakily, his left leg hurt the most in the morning (it was the one that The Bite was on), and his mother would ask if he was ready for lessons. And he was. He always was. Always wanting to be better, always wanting to be something he wasn't. The werewolf in a wizard's world.

Before Hogwarts, every morning Peter Pettigrew would wake up early. He liked being awake when the sun rose, even if his family called him crazy. He would sit by his bedroom window and list the things he was grateful for. Mum, he thought of his mother, who expected little of him. Dad, he thought of his father, who could care less of him. Colleen, his perfect eldest sister, who moved away as soon as she could. Robin, his brother, the heroic Auror-to-be. Michael, who was a proper famous journalist by then. Greta, who cared. Peter was grateful for his family, for sunrises, and for rock 'n roll music. He was grateful for his friends, comic books, and Quidditch. He would go downstairs and eat breakfast and get ready for school, but every morning he made a wish. I wish to be better. I wish to be better. I wish to be better.

Before Hogwarts, every morning Sirius Black would pretend to still be asleep. He would hide beneath the covers until the house elf wrenched them off him. He would sit at the table for breakfast in the grand dining room in silence. The Black family-Orion, Walburga, Sirius, and his younger brother, Regulus-would sit in quiet only interrupted by the ticking of the grandfather clock and scoldings. "Sit up straight, Sirius." "Fix your napkin, Sirius." "Look at me while I'm talking to you Sirius." "Don't you mutter things like that about me, Sirius." Do, don't, do, don't, do don't. It was only breakfast time, and already, things were too much. Sirius would see the tutor who taught himself and other pureblood elite children (whom he was most likely related to) in a ornate home near the Blacks in London, where there would be even more scoldings. Too much, too much, too much.

Before Hogwarts, every morning James Potter would write a to-do list. It always was long, and had strange things on it that James knew he wasn't going to do, but he wrote it everyday anyways, and the list got longer and wilder each time. Ride a dragon, swim in the ocean, meet someone, learn something, etc. He was the kind of kid to have too many thoughts in his head with no outlet; the kind of insane creative energy that wasn't just the energy you get as a kid, it was something more. He would then grab his broom, go outside, and practice. The Potters lived in a wizarding town in a beautiful mansion on a large plot of land, and since it was a wizarding town, James could fly his broomstick whenever he wanted without fear a muggle would see. He would go exploring with his friends in the deep woods, and play pirate or adventurer, or wizards-proper wizards with wands already. All in time for he and his friends to walk to school, which was nearby. He lived the ideal life for a child, but there was always something missing; though he could say what.

September 1st, 1971. James Potter wrote just one thing on his to-do list for the first time in a long time.

Be yourself, but not too much.

Fate sat him down in that compartment on the train. Fate guided Severus Snape and Lily Potter to be there when he sat down. Fate brought Sirius Black into the compartment, and had his gray eyes lock onto the wild-haired boy with a crooked smile. Fate brought them together, but fate was cruel. We all know how this story ends, and how it begins. We all know that ten years later, James Potter will be found dead in his home, his wife, dead. His infant son, alive, destined for ten years of being treated like he wasn't. We all know that Sirius Black will spend twelve years in prison for a crime he didn't commit, while the real culprit hid in plain sight. We all know that Remus Lupin will spend twelve years drifting through life like a ghost, seeing life in black and white, wondering why he even bothered waking up anymore.

We all know how this story ends. So why are you here? Why are you still reading this if you know what is going to happen? Because you know as well as I, the end isn't the whole story. Stories and lives go hand in hand. You can't have an end to your life with no beginning. James Potter didn't just appear on earth to die. He-and Remus, and Peter, and Sirius-had beginnings. And middles. And, of course, ends.

So here it is. The Marauders, beginning, middle, and end.

thanks for reading! -cay