New story of mine. This is pretty immaturely written; snatches of the new few chapters will be angled such as this one; immature and childish, I guess you could say. Well, not really immature or childish. Just in hopes to get some laughter out of my readers. But I rather like a more serious edge to it. So, here it goes. Please review!

DISCLAIMER: Nothing here is mine. Except for whatever doesn't fit into the books.

James was grinning like a fool; as per usual. I mean - he was a fool. You had to be a fool to be allegedly in love with our dear friend, Miss Lillian Evans. I must say, Evans was a complete dork, nerd, bitch, perfect prefect... Everything disgusting that comes to mind, she was. I fucking hate her. Why? Because of the unknowing grip he has on Prongs. I don't like the way she assumes things straight off the bat.

Who am I, you ask? Only the handsomest, the cleverest, the most wanted, uniquest man to walk the face of the Earth, let alone Hogwarts. I am the proud Beater of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. I am the Beta of the infamous group, the Marauders. The most wanted man in Hogwarts, because of the devilishly good looks at which I have been graced with.

Ahem, I am the one and only Sirius Black. Well, okay, maybe not the only Sirius Black. But I am the only Sirius Orion Black, and also the only Gryffindor in my stupid, opression-loving family.

Anyhow, our dear Miss Lily Evans is in the Potter Manor, at the moment, sitting between James and I on the couch in the spacious living room, listening to the Order members, who are all gathered at the Potter Manor tonight.

The Order members were all conversing quite loudly, and they have been for a while now. Can't they lower their voices? Merlin. But Evans doesn't seem to mind. Why must she be Muggleborn anyhow? Now she's stuck with James and I at the Potter Manor because her Muggle family was relocated for their safety.

Not that James minds her presence.

And she's watching the Order members with this airheaded, dreamy look on her face, while they are yelling so loud for so long my ears are about to burst! And when I even let out a giggle, she's onto me in a split second, chiding me for being "too loud." But she doesn't do it as gently as the word "chiding" implies. Actually, I can say she's had me clinging to a strand of life every time she sees me even just let out a little simper.

So, here she is, watching these big-mouthed Order members screaming, without shouting at them to be quiet.

Rolling my eyes, I leaned over to my left, whispering in her ear, "Don't you have homework to work on, Evans? Teachers to suck up to? Elves to defend?" She just scowled at me and shook her head, ignoring me, except to shush me rudely and continuing to listen in on the Order. I stuck my tongue out at her when she turned back around. But I listened in too, trying to find out what was so bad that it got the Order shaking in its boots and screaming at each other.

"She's a captive of six years, maybe seven! We must take her in!"

"She could be just a trap!"

"A teenager like her? Why - how - could she be? She's only as old as Sirius and James and Lillian there," Mrs. Potter exclaimed heatedly, pointing over to us on the couch. At the mention of the three of us (and a teenager coming, a female by the majority of 'she's), we all sat up, straighter and more interested. Many nodded at the statement Mrs. P. made. With an agitated sigh, she plopped (or rather, fell) onto an armchair with her face in her hands.

"Call Dumbledore, tell him to bring her in."

I swapped confused but eager faces with Prongs, glancing at Evans when he did, to see what her reaction was. Evans happened to be puzzled and in her Think Mode. I snickered behind my hand, loud enough for her to hear, making her turn toward me and scowl. Which made me grin at her in a joking, flirty way. Our banter was interrupted quite rudely by Dumbledore. Only he wasn't alone.

Evans gasped at who trailed behind him and Prongs and I stared at each other, confused.

There, just a few feet behind Dumbledore (but with Dumbledore all the same), was a girl that seemed to be only fourteen or fifteen. But her height was that of Evans's, maybe James's athletic 6 foot 2. Well, needless to say, she was tall for a fourteen year old girl. I tilted my head; Mrs. P. had said she was around our age. How puzzling.. She seemed a few years short of my age.

She had long, matted black hair (or was it brown? Such filth in it; urgh!), that reached her waist. Her eyes were dark brown, curiously taking in her surroundings. She was thin and gangly, looking malnourished. Her clothes consisted of a dark, ratty Wizard robe, as filthy as she herself was, with Muggle clothing beneath that seemed much too small for someone her size. Her wrists and ankles, protruding from the XXSmall sized clothing she was in, had dark, purplish rings produced from bruises on them, as though the blood circulation was regularly cut off somehow or she regularly fought against chains attached to her legs and arms. I frowned.

All eyes turned to the newcomer, the room ringing in the silence; but the girl didn't seem to notice as she was inspecting the living room with a wide smile on her pale-pink lips. Her pallor color was not unnoticed; it was waxy and ghastly pale, almost light grayish. Almost as

though she hadn't seen the sun in a long time.

I couldn't resist shouting out, "Who are you?" The sudden noise startled her, and she jumped. The smile slid off her face robotically, and she drank me in with her cold eyes. They washed over everyone else in the room, who was looking at her apprehensively. She stared for several moments. Evans elbowed me in the ribs for my outburst and I just managed to hold back a yelp.

"I'm.." She paused and I understood why. Her voice was croaky and hoarse and when she paused, she coughed loudly, trying to coax her voice into working, I s'pose. Then she tried again. "I'm JJ Schaffer." I saw a look of horror dawn on Mrs. P.'s face and I made my way to her, concerned. She stared, still horrified, at Schaffer. Slowly, she lifted her right arm, then awoke her limp hand and outstretched her index finger at Ghost-Girl Schaffer. She did this all very slowly, as though she were afraid.

"You're the Schaffer child.. The one that had been kid-" She halted, choking on her words for a mere second before plowing on. "The one that had been kidnapped."

Then, cautiously, Miss JJ Schaffer nodded her head slowly.

Then many of the women screamed, whilst Evans, Prongs and I blinked in confusion. The girl - Schaffer - smiled darkly at the three of us.

Dumbledore spoke, after clearing his throat. "Shall we continue to the dining area, Dorene?" he asked politely to a flustered Mrs. P. who shot up immediately and nodded her head.

"Yes, of course."

She turned to the three of us (I ran back to my seat when she was okay) on the couch and motioned for us to follow the group. They never let us in on Order stuff.. Weird, right? Of course you think so, how can you say something so right is wrong? Even if it was wrong, you'd just say yes anyway because I'm such a hot Siri-beastie.

Mrs. P. turned to Schaffer and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the dining room and placing her in a seat to the left of Dumbledore. Schaffer was, throughout this act of kindness on Mrs. P.'s part, incredibly stiff and cautious, turning her head to peek into rooms before she passed them and standing so rigid that if she looked like a big old plank of wooden board I would've had no trouble thinking she was one.

Dumbledore rapped his knuckles on the long dining table, which seated the Order, who was again chattering loudly. When the many pairs of eyes turned to the elderly man, he motioned to Schaffer, who had shrunk in her seat when she was seated, constantly fidgeting and looking at the people around her, always daring her eyes sideways at mighty Dumbley-dore when she thought no one was looking. I smirked, giving her a mocking wave, taunting her nervousness or fearfulness (either one), when I was sure she was looking at me. Unexpectedly, at the movement, she wrung her hands uncomfortably.

Definitely fear.

After that, I tuned out, leaning against the beige-cream wall beside James. Then everyone just started leaving and Apparating to their homes outside in the yard, Dumbledore taking the fireplace-version and using Floo to the castle, I guess. Mrs. P. hurried off, muttering something briefly about getting Schaffer's room ready.

Wait - HER ROOM?!

Ghost-Girl is staying with us?! No! It can't be! NOOOO!!!!

"Padfoot, mate, you alright?" Prongs asked me, placing a hand on my shoulder with concern. I think I looked like someone just tortured me with the Crutacious Curse.

Schaffer looks darkly amused, watching my agonized face with a Slytheriny grin. Prat.

Evans stepped up, however, pushing out her hand to Ghost-Girl Schaffer in greeting. I stared at her in disgust once Schaffer's grimy hand grasped it before releasing suspiciously quickly as if Evans just electrocuted her. Evans smiled.

"I'm Lily Evans, JJ," she introduced. "And that's James Potter and Sirius Black. They're the biggest prats in the world, so don't pay them any mind." She smiled again, motioning to Prongs and I airily even as her mention of us brought on an acidic tone. Schaffer nodded her head at Evans, before jumping at the mention of the name "James." She rounded on him, suddenly taking on a wary curiosity.

"My brother's name is James," she said suddenly. James must not have liked her much more than me, because then he said,

"Does it look like I'm your stupid brother?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, her muscles bunching, jaw clenching. Then, unexpectedly, a tear strayed down her dirty cheeks, leaving a paler shade on the skin where the tear had run down. Brushing it away impatiently, she looked down at the wetness of the tear on her muddy fingers, glaring at it with contempt. She, however, seemed to bite back her retort and pushed past Prongs and I to make it into the living room.

Evans glared at James so fiercely he winced and shrunk away from Tiger-Evans' path, who stepped in toward the fourteen year old girl. Schaffer was at the mantle, looking into the flames. Bending down, she stuffed her fingers into the hearth, yelping as the flames licked at her fingers and burned at the pallor skin but never recoiling from the pain. Evans gasped at the sudden movement, its roots unknown. Whatever compelled her to do something so stupid, was beyond me.

Finally, I rushed to her and jerked her out, whipping around to slap her face for being such a buffoon. But Schaffer had released a scream the minute she saw me turn around and reach to hit her. She had leaped to her feet and jumped away, eyes widened, her legs and arms shielding her face with her knees drawn up to press against her forehead.

I was startled.

Schaffer grabbed this moment to leap up again and retreat to the dining area where she dove beneath the table. Evans, Prongs and I exchanged bewildered glances before I shook my head, passing an equally unsettled Mrs. P. racing down the stairs, eyes wide. "What happened?"

I shook my head at her in response, my lips a thin line as I started to slowly ascend the stairs. I gave her a brief look that read hopelessness.

"The kid's bonkers."