Well, Hello! Welcome to my first chaptered Harry Potter Tale, about everyone's favorite magical lovable rogues, the Marauders! They are the main characters. Their might be a bit of a leaning/focus on Lupin, because he's my favorite, and admittedly there's much less about Peter, because he's my least favorite. I sincerely hope no one cares too much about that. So, it's a tale of friendship, just friendship of four boys who love each other like brothers and hang out with girls anyways. Rated K+, just to be cautious. Humor, angst, adventure, heartwarmingness all (hopefully) present. Played from the Marauders' Perspective, so Snape's a villain, pretty much, as are most Slytherins. Lily is involves, Quidditch is involved. I have already written the first four chapters before publishing this first one, because waiting is really annoying and I don't want to torture people if I get lazy and fall behind. Lots of fluff and exposition, but eventually develops a bit of a plot. And this introduction was ridiculously long, wasn't it? Sorry about that! Just give this tale a chance! I hope you enjoy it so much you leave me glowing reviews, or favorites, or at least tell me what I could do better about it. Enjoy!

"'Night, Jim!"

"'Night, Dad!" called James Potter as his father retreated into his bedroom to sleep. He was the only person in the world who called him 'Jim'. Even James's mother never said it – she would use his proper name, or sometimes call him 'son'. And his friends at school all called him 'Prongs'.

A smile lit on James's face at the thought – it was the night of the thirty-first of August; tomorrow he would be headed back to Hogwarts for his sixth year, and he would see them all again on the train and at the feast.

His best friend Sirius had written to him a lot over the summer; life seemed to be going from bad to worse at the Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, whose first rule was that of blood purity. Sirius could hardly wait to go back to school and escape his prejudiced relatives, who refused to forgive him for being Sorted into Gryffindor, associating with Muggle-borns, blood traitors, and werewolves, "disgracing the family name" with his antics, and his aspiration to join the Order of the Phoenix instead of the Death Eaters.

James was devoutly glad his own family was not so ridiculous. He oftentimes felt like the most fortunate among his four friends: Sirius had his family drama; Remus, his poverty and lycanthropy; and Peter, his general lack of skill or charm. James's family was rich but kind, and he could succeed in everything from Transfiguration to Quidditch effortlessly; he'd even been named the Captain for this year, along with receiving his rather brilliant OWL scores. He grinned as he ran his hand along his sleek Silver Arrow, his mind already abuzz with strategies with which to win the Quidditch cup yet again. The only thing he wanted that he still had not achieved was the love of a girl named Lily Evans. He would see her tomorrow, too! Life was good.

And then there was a knock at the door. James sat up abruptly, his broomstick clattering to the floor beside the couch. Who on earth would be calling at this hour? He stood, barefoot and pajama-clad, crept to the door, and opened it.

Sirius Black was standing in the doorway, pale-faced and silent, breathing heavily, with a trunk and a guitar case at his feet. "James," he said finally. "Hello."

"Sirius," said James, eying his friend's pallid and anxious countenance. "Are you – what are you – do you want to . . . umm, come in."

Sirius obliged and heaved his luggage through the door and over to the couch. He was clad in black leather and biker boots. He sat gloomily down on the couch. "Are you OK, Sirius? Do you need – anything?"

Sirius looked up at him. "Can I stay here?" he asked, "and go to the train station with you – with your family tomorrow?"

"Of course," replied James immediately, going to the kitchen. "What happened? Did they kick you out?"

"No," Sirius replied in would-be casual tone, "I – I left. And I can't go back, nor would I want to. Mum has probably already blasted me out of the family tree," he added with a grim smile.

James stared incredulously at his friend. "Tough crowd," he commented lightly. "Tea?"

Sirius shrugged. "Anything stronger?"

"Just butterbeer," James replied.

"Works for me," replied Sirius as James fetched the bottle and two cups. Then he added, awkwardly, "Thanks, James. For everything."

"Don't be so bloody formal, Padfoot," James grinned as he poured them each a bubbly glass of butterbeer, by way of "you're welcome." Sirius grinned back and they toasted their return to Hogwarts school and the new adventures the Marauders would have this year.

"So," said James, after he had quaffed his entire glass in one gulp, trying to put his friend's mind on lighter, happier matters, "have you thought at all about our opening trick? It's a crying shame Bertha Jorkins left last year; she was so easy to warm up on . . ."

"Try something on Wormy's girlfriend," Sirius suggested, "that Hufflepuff chick – you know, just so she knows what she's in for if she hangs around us. That is if they're still together by the time we get to school . . ."

"But won't you feel like a jerk if she ditches him over that?" James asked in mock sympathy.

"Not a bit," Sirius replied with a twisted smile as he sipped his butterbeer.

"Me neither," said James. "So that's settled." He sat back on his chair and yawned contentedly.

"That's good," said Sirius lightly. "Any genius plans for winning Evans this year?"

"Padfoot," James responded in mock conceit, "I'm the Quidditch Captain. She doesn't stand a chance."

"Yes, because Quidditch worked so well to win her over the last four years," Sirius told him sarcastically. "The only time she even smiled at you was when she saw you being nice to Moony after the full moon."

"Wrong, Padfoot!" James replied. "Even she has her Gryffindor pride. She cheers me on at every game. I saw her smiling at me in the front row one time –"

"And then a Bludger hit you in the face," Sirius interjected. "And she laughed."

James frowned. "Yes, well . . . I'm glad that Beater graduated . . . this year I'll get better ones. I just really hope there's some genuine Keeper talent this year – I mean, Quirke and Longbottom were good, but after they left - for the last few years . . . I dunno, it's like they can't even see the Quaffle."

"Which is a great load of angst you could save for your teammates, who might have the slightest possibility of caring," said Sirius harshly and he downed the rest of his glass of butterbeer.

"I keep saying you should do Quidditch!" James insisted. "You're a pretty good flier; you could definitely defend the goals better than the last few Keepers we've had."

"Prongs, if it gets to the point where I'm the best Keeper in the whole house of Gryffindor, I'm going to jump in the lake and let the Giant Squid eat me. And you will, too, because Evans will never cheer on a team like that. And then Moony will get all lonely and depressed with only Wormtail for company, and he'll jump in too," Sirius said, wildly spinning the tale further, "and then Wormtail last, and then Lily will because she'll feel horrible and responsible for it, then Snape will, because Evans did, and then . . . well, you get the picture. Mass suicide. So make sure you find a better Keeper!"

"And then I suppose the school would have to close, and everyone would be stupid sheep, so Voldemort would take over the world," James added in conclusion. "If ever anyone doubted the importance of Quidditch . . ." He yawned and stood to put the butterbeer away as the hall clock rang to signal the hour. "Look, it's late, and we want to be prepared for our first day back at Hogwarts. We should sleep." And with a wave of his wand, two sleeping bags flew out of the hall closet and onto the twin couches in the living room; not long ago, he had performed a series of complicated procedures that got rid of the Trace that still bound him – he could not have his age restricting his freedom any more than anything else.

But Sirius was giving James an incredulous expression. "Prongs, you sound like Moony," he said. "We can sleep on the train if we have to, idiot!"

"Funny, whenever Moony talks like that, you tell him he sounds like McGonagall," James mused with a sigh as he settled onto one of the couches. "Ah, poor Moony. I saw the last full moon a while back and thought of him . . . his transformations in the summer must be miserable . . ."

"Yes, keep thinking like that, James. That's the attitude that wins you Lily's smile," Sirius yawned.

"What – being nice to Moony?" James asked as he fumbled with the sleeping bag's zippers. "Yes, it's much more effective than Quidditch," Sirius concluded.

"Maybe I ought to try and find him a girl, then . . ." said James sleepily as he opened the sleeping bag to climb inside. "Goodnight, Padfoot!"

Sirius stripped of his coat and biker boots and stood considering for a moment. Then, very awkwardly, he walked to James and hugged him, trying to convey all his appreciation in one clumsy gesture. James hugged back, but then, to diffuse all awkwardness, they pretended it never happened. They both climbed into their respective sleeping bags, settled into comfortable positions. "Goodnight, Prongs!"

The two best friends were not silent long, thought they intended to leave it there for that night; by time James finally drifted off first, it was four in the morning, and almost nothing had been left un-discussed. Sirius had told in more detail of his flight from home and the reasons for it; they had blabbered on about Quidditch and new pranks and their friends and how James was sure to win Lily this year. By the time they were both asleep, they had a firmly-established list of goals for the year:

-Win Lily Evans

-Win the Quidditch cup

-Acquire a Flying Motorcycle

-Prank Wormtail's Hufflepuff girlfriend

-Get Moony a date

-Stay together and remain coolest, most adventurous wizard gang on campus

Little did the two dark-haired sleepers know, as they dreamt happily of zooming Snitches, zooming motorcycles, swishing red hair, and dark, cold nights under the bright full moon, that with the greatest adventures or any gang, they would also have to face the greatest adversities . . .