A/N—I don't own this. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all the characters and places.

Summary: Year One of the Marauders' Hogwarts experience. Told from James' Potter's POV—I've always believed that he had many of his own Harry-ish experiences at Hogwarts.

Please read/review! Many thanks!

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James Potter and the Hat's Enigma

The train whistle screamed, and smoke puffed and billowed out onto the platform of 93/4. It curled around the feet of the people milling about the engine, and gave the packed trolleys the appearance of floating. Snatches of voices rose briefly over the whistle, throbbing in James' ears. His fingers tightened around his ticket, and he felt the paper bite into the skin of his palm. In his pocket he could hear the soft rustling of his Hogwarts letter. He hadn't needed it anymore, but he liked to hold on to it.

"Come on, James," his father said, pushing James between the shoulder blades, shoving him forward. The movement made James' stomach, still a little messed up from the barrier, twist, and he reeled, clinging to the handle bar of his trolley. He had to focus on the name printed on the foremost trunk—James R. Potter—in order to settle his stomach. When he gained control over himself, he moved on, looking around him, soaking in the people around him, trying to pick out first years, searching for someone he might want to meet.

Over by the barrier, a tall, severe woman dressed all in black stood by the side of a man of the same sort. They both seemed to be speaking to a young boy. The boy was tall and lanky, with sweeping black hair. He was leaning against the edge of the barrier, in the charm's blind spot, so that he didn't fall back through. Another boy of about 9 sat at his feet, ignoring the father's occasional attempts to pull him to his feet. He was pouting grumpily.

A little ways off a plump, blond-haired boy was weeping, clinging to his parents, who were both also crying. As James watched, the three crumpled to the ground, still embracing, and continued to make a rather embarrassing scene of parting.

Watching this group was another young boy, sneering and laughing. His greasy hair whipped around as he turned to nudge a pretty red-haired girl who stood next to him. The girl looked at the group with a mixed expression of laughter and understanding, and turned away, clearly about to cry, after casting a glance off to her left, where a girl a little older was glaring at her with a look of intense hatred.

Behind the elder girl, a young boy with sandy-brown hair slipped in through the other side of the barrier, looking warily at the black-haired boy, who made a show of falling at the new arrival's knees and begging for mercy. The boy backed away, fear turning him pale, emphasizing the jagged scars that lined his face. He looked for an adult, and a man—his father?—laughed and pulled him off.

"Come on, James." Another shove in the back reminded James that he had to catch the train, and he stumbled onwards, slipping through the crowd towards one of the cars. When he finally reached it, he turned towards his parents.

Both were smiling proudly, and his mother's eyes glittered with tears. She hugged him fiercely, saying, "I'm so proud of you, James. You've made us so proud."

His father nodded, and patted him on the shoulder. "Behave."

"I will," James laughed. His father shook his head.

"No you won't. You'll be just like me—a trouble-maker."

"Just don't get into danger, sweetie," his mother told him as he ruffled his hair and stepped back to let him board the train.

As the train pulled off, James couldn't help leaning out of the window and yelling, for the whole world to hear,

"I'm going to Hogwarts!"

"Me too," someone piped up, and James spun around to see the plump boy of before standing beside him. His watery eyes were still red.

"Yeah," James said. "Yeah."

"Have you got a compartment yet?"

"No."

The boy perked up. "We can share! Do you want to?"

James sighed, knowing what his mother would want, and said, "Sure."

He grabbed his trunk, and noticing that his companion seemed to be having difficulty with his, grabbed the other one also, leaving the other boy to follow him, spewing thanks.

"I'm Peter Pettigrew," he gasped, and then shrieked as a cat barreled down the hall. "I'm going to be a first year."

"James Potter. I'm a first year too."

"Really? I thought you were older. You look like my older brother—well, not really. I mean, you look around the same age."

"What year is your brother in?" James asked.

Peter coughed, and then said, "Third year. He's in Hufflepuff."

"D'you think that's where you're headed?"

"I dunno. I really want to go to Gryffindor."

James bit back a laugh, and settled for kindly saying, "That's where I want to go too. Oh! Look, an empty compartment—"

"Who said it was empty?" The black-haired boy James had first seen was lounging on one of the seats, taking up the whole bench-like fixture. His hair was in his eyes, and he looked out at them with mischievous grey eyes. "I'm here."

"Sorry," James said good-naturedly. "We didn't notice you. D'you mind if we sit here?"

The boy shook his head, and, grinning, took his feet off the seat, making room for them. He even stood and help James shove Peter's trunk onto the luggage rack.

"Yeesh," James grunted. "This thing is heavy."

"I know," Peter said apologetically. "But I had to bring my cot."

They froze.

"Um, you know that there are beds in the dorms, right?" the other boy said.

Peter looked down, blushing, and murmured something.

"Well, now we have something to use if anyone needs a place to hide out," James said cheerfully, and Peter smiled again.

"Sirius Black," the boy said suddenly, tossing himself back onto a seat.

"James Potter."

"Peter Pettigrew."

"Oops, I am so sorry!"

A stack of books went tumbling, blocking the hallway, and they all looked out of the compartment door curiously.

"Have you ever heard of a trunk?"

James realized that the new speaker was the greasy-haired boy who had laughed at Peter, who was now chastising someone else James recognized—the pale, scarred boy who had been so scared when accosted by Sirius.

Sirius got up and opened the door, quickly stooping to help the boy pick up his books, all the while talking to the greasy-haired boy.

"You know what, it was an accident."

"He bumped into me, and practically avalanched me with books that should have been in a trunk!"

"Sev," a girl cut in, "just cut it out. It was an accident."

"I'm sorry," the boy apologized again.

"Forget it," Sirius said kindly, crawling in between people's legs, reaching for another book. An unidentified foot kicked it towards him, and he muttered a thank you.

"Forget it," the girl said at the same time, dragging 'Sev' away. She looked back, and smiled apologetically at the boys, before disappearing into a compartment. The crowd cleared, now that the hall was unblocked, and soon it was just Sirius and the boy, both stacking the books up.

"Thanks," the boy said.

"No problem. Forget about it. Mistakes happen. Sirius Black." He stuck out his hand, almost toppling the pile again. The boy looked shocked, and then shook Sirius' hand.

"Remus Lupin."

"Peter Pettigrew and James Potter," Sirius plowed on, pointing at James and Peter in turn.

"Hey," James said, while Peter squeaked a hello, too in awe of the boy's huge stack of books to make a whole sentence.

"We've got room," James continued, "if you need a compartment."

Remus smiled, but looked worried. "I don't want to intrude..."

"Silly. There's plenty of room, so long no one lounges," James insisted. Sirius laughed, and promised not to take up extra space. As he gathered up Remus' books, he asked,

"Do you have a trunk?"

"No. I—"

Sirius fell to his knees and hugged Remus' ankles.

"Thank you!"