Disclaimer

I do not own the characters that I did not invent, and I did not invent the Harry Potter world that this story is set in. Therefore, I only own the characters that are my own invention, and nothing else in this fanfiction (Sorry for the repetitiveness and awkwardness; this is my first time writing a disclaimer).

Author's Note

Thank you so, so much for reading (even if you decide you don't want to read after reading this)! I want to clear a few things that are a little misleading, so you're not disappointed. First off, this is a fanfic with only OC's. The Marauders do not have a role, it is only classified as a Marauder-world fic for it's time period (Marauder era = First Wizarding War). I know it's misleading, I'm sorry but I didn't know what other era to classify it in, if not Marauders. Second, the summary is not a lie, it's just not exactly the beginning. Joan is attacked by Death Eaters much later, but I will name that chapter appropriately so that, if you would like to (and I have written that chapter by then), you can skip to that chapter. I will have a short summary of what has happened up to that point, but you will miss a lot of foreshadowing and character set-up. Again, thank you so much for reading!

Chapter 1

"...and Jacop gets the ball, passes it to Joan, who passes it back, and Jacop gets a clear shot and… The Boulders score again, making the score 15-0!"

Joan laughed. Nobody from the other team seemed to know how to play soccer. Jacop, however, had insisted that it was the perfect day to learn, being a sunny, hot and humid summer day. From the looks on the other team's faces, though, it was clear that they disagreed.

"We need to change teams! It's not fair!" Jane demanded, face red with the heat.

"The only thing that's not fair is that you have three players and we only have two!" Joan retorted. Jane opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when she saw her twin brother Frederic glancing warningly her way.

"Boulders, huddle!" Joan ran over to Jacop at once. They put their heads together, with difficulty for Jacop due to being almost a foot taller. Jacop was used to this; he was one of the tallest in his year at Hogwarts.

"Joan, I know your not going to like what I'm gonna say, but I think we should let them score."

"B-but that's giving up a shut-out!" Joan said, wide-eyed.

"Yeah, but right now they're really discouraged. At their… at our school, nobody plays soccer, which I know is really strange," he quickly added. "And… well, they've never played before much, and I think it would make them happy if they at least got a goal. Think of the look on their faces!"

Joan contemplated this, then nodded her approval. "Hey, Ms. G, we're going to start playing again! I have a feeling that this will be one interesting play…" Jacop winked at Ms. G, the muggle wife of one of the wizards that lived in the joint house next to Joan's. She knew soccer, but didn't enjoy playing it as much as watching it. She loved to commentate the kid's games.

"All-righty… Jane starts with the ball, passes it to Frederic, who leaves it behind... now Jacop gets the ball, who passes it to Kyler, who trips over the ball… Then Jane gets it, passes it to Frede- No, it goes of in another direction and Joan gets it, who passes it back… Jane passes it softly to Kyler, Frederic tries to pick up the ball and throw it into the goal, but Joan stops him and reminds him of the rules, leaving the goal clear, and Kyler takes a kick, and… HE SCORES THE FIRST POINT FOR TEAM QUAFFLE!"

At this, an untidy man with caramel skin and jet-black hair bolted out the door. Joan recognized him as the twins's father. Jane, Frederic and Kyler stopped celebrating at one look at him. He was furious.

"Team Quaffle?! Are you serious!? It's a wonder the Ministry doesn't run right over here; shouting about Quaffles! In the presence of a muggle, as well!" He eyed Joan suspiciously. "I'd expect better from you three! All the names for a team, and you have to name it after Quidditch! I suppose you assigned a beater, chaser and keeper as well!" The twins looked at each other, then at their little brother, then back at their father. "...might as well been playing on broomsticks… lucky the muggle had a ball... don't think I didn't notice that your Quidditch set was moved, if you used those… basically criminals…"

"Jacop let us! Why aren't you mad at him?"

"Because, Jane, at least he was wise enough to name his team The Boulders." A skinny lady with stringy, auburn hair poked her head out the back door. "Jacop, Merlin's beard, why didn't you stop them!" Jacop hung his head. He was secretly hoping that he'd have an excuse to talk to Joan about Quidditch; now the idea seemed really stupid in his head.

"Well?"

The twin's father took advantage of the silence. "It's like no one cares about the Statute of Secrecy! Who knows how many heard Ms. G and…"

"And you, Mr. Petunie, your worse than all of them! Shouting about the ministry of magic, broomsticks, Quidditch… Why, the poor girl's probably going to have to be obliviated…"

Joan heard no more. In fact, it felt like she went deaf all of a sudden. She must not of heard right. Obliviate? It didn't sound like something good. If fact, it sounded like they were about to blast her into oblivion. She stopped her indigent stares (they were talking about her like she wasn't standing right there, and even called her a muggle, whatever that means!) and, suddenly, asking "What's a Quaffle?" "What's Quidditch?" "There's a ministry of magic?" and such was the last thing on her mind.

She ran. Nobody was blowing her up. Everyone ran after her except Ms. G (who snuck inside soon after Mr. P came out), but Joan was faster. Being the youngest of the neighbors, she was nimble and agile, and after what seemed like forever she was in her home, safe. She could make out a few words, but they didn't matter. "...something small like that…" "...lose your temper…" "...won't tell others…" "...shouldn't joke like that…" "... really believed…" "... Oh, the kids just came now…" Suddenly, she heard a sharp voice that was barely recognizable as Jacop's mother. "Jacop, homework! Now! Room! Go! Come on! Hurry!" Joan could imagine Jacop walking away slowly, disappointed. Joan wouldn't blame him, homework over the summer was always the worst. She wondered how much his boarding school gave, then a familiar sinking feeling formed in her gut. He would be leaving in a couple months again. Jacop barely gets summer, she thought with injustice.