Disclaimer: As I am a simple person who does not own tons and tons of money, I must admit to being a plain American girl, and not JK Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter and the connected involved characters. Oh, well...

**Canon until post-Ootp. Then my imagination takes over.**

***I still exist! There will be more from other stories coming! But school is just getting a little bit in the way! Here goes - my for-now oneshot that could very well become a full-out story. But only if people like it!***


What is it, about humanity and the number three? Three guesses, three strikes, three choices, three Fates…

If you asked Remus Lupin, he would give you that little smile that made him look oh-so-innocent, and explain something long and esoteric about three being a powerful magical and structural number, stronger than five and nine. Sirius Black would blink at you and mumble something about triangles and spells. James Potter would run his hand through his hair and say something about balance. And Peter Pettigrew would probably squeak and stare at you in confusion.

But whatever the reason, three is the number of chances that the Wizarding World, both Voldemort and Dumbledore, got.


One

"They're dead," Lily gasped, her face streaming with tears. "Oh, Merlin, James – they're dead! And Tuney even blames me for it – not that I blame her, I would…" Her words grew unintelligible as she buried her face into James' chest.

Therefore, she did not notice an angry shadow flash across James' normally gentle brown eyes. Dumbledore could have protected Lily's parents. He hadn't.

Strike One.


Two

The door to Sirius' flat slammed open, and Remus stumbled into the room. Sirius dropped the glass he was holding, and dashed over to the trembling werewolf.

"Remus, what –?"

Remus gave a pained smile. "Death Eaters," he rasped. "Tried… to recruit me. Told them… no."

Stiffening, Sirius drew his wand, and jabbed it sharply in the direction of his fellow Marauder. A bluish chart appeared for a moment, but Sirius just glanced at it before nodding sharply and dashing over to Heal some of Remus' wounds.

One of the wounds was oozing with black glue – a silver wound. Sirius' eyes hardened, charging from a gentle grey to an icy silver.

Strike Two.


Marauders

"Are we agreed on this?" James flicked a glance around the room. Only two years ago, not one person in this room would have dreamed of using a Dark Ritual like this one. But now… days were getting Darker.

Her eyes like emerald fire, Lily Potter lifted her chin and nodded, her face eerily shadowed by the candles set about the room.

Shadows contrasting oddly with his dark hair and pale skin, Sirius looked almost vampiric as he nodded his assent.

A faint, wolfish smile was all that Remus gave as a response – but it was enough.

Peter looked nervous, and even sweatier than usual, but nodded shakily as well.

Running his left hand through his hair, James drew his wand. "Right then. I'll start." Slashing his wand in a sharp movement, James sliced his left palm directly down the life line, spilling blood into a small, stone bowl.

"Yr wyf fi, y hydd galon, yn ddifrifol Tyngu i fod yn wir Ffyddlon at yr ysbeilwyr. Yr wyf yn Rhegi Trwy Ein Llw, bod Os Un o'r Ni fradychu y Rest, Bod Os Maent Die Yn lle hynny."

"I, the Stag Hearted, do Solemnly Swear to be Truly Loyal to the Marauders. I Swear By Our Oath, that Should One of Us Betray the Rest, That They Should Die Instead." (Welsh)

Sirius moved forward next, slicing open his hand and spilling his blood as well.

"I tristes pusillanimes levavi non vere fideles latronibus. Testor juramento, quod si unus ex nobis traditurus ceteris, sed omnes morerentur."

"I, the Grim Hearted, do Solemnly Swear to be Truly Loyal to the Marauders. I Swear By Our Oath, that Should One of Us Betray the Rest, That They Should Die Instead." (Latin)

Lily swept forward, looking, James thought, like some warrior goddess from ancient times.

"Mé leis an anam an Pocaire gaoithe, a thabhairt do mo mhionn go sollúnta a bheith fíor dílis don marauders. Bind mé mé féin ar ár Mionn, Más rud é go bhfuil ceann de Linn feall ar an chuid eile, Go chóir siad Die In ionad!"

"I with the soul of the Kestrel, do Solemnly give my oath to be Truly loyal to the Marauders. I Bind Myself to Our Oath, that Should One of Us Betray the Rest, That They Should Die Instead." (Irish Gaelic)

Still smiling in a rather canine-like way, Remus took his place.

"Io, Remus, Figlio del Lupo, giuro solennemente di essere veramente fedeli al Marauders. Giuro per il nostro giuramento, che se una delle tradirci il resto, che avessero dovuto morire invece."

"I, Remus, Son of the Wolf, Do Solemnly Swear to be Truly Loyal to the Marauders. I Swear By Our Oath, that Should One of Us Betray the Rest, That They Should Die Instead." (Italian)

And finally, shaking like a leaf, Peter stepped forward for his place.

"Y-Yo, alma de rata, juro solemnemente que verdaderamente fiel a los Merodeadores. Juro Por Nuestro Juramento, que si uno de traicionarnos el resto, los que deberían morir en lugar."

"I, Rat Soul, Do Solemnly Swear to be Truly Loyal to the Marauders. I Swear By Our Oath, that Should One of Us Betray the Rest, That They Should Die Instead." (Spanish)

James took up the lead again, smoothly finishing.

"By Blood, Bone, Magic, and Soul, So It Is Done – Sic Fiat!" (So Mote It Be, Latin)


Three

James' eyes widened as he felt the wards collapse. "No," he whispered. "Peter."

Lily's eyes blazed. "How could he? The ritual…?"

James shook his head. "Grab Harry, and go. I'll hold him off till Sirius and Remus get help."

Nodding, Lily snatched their son from his crib, and dashed up the steps. The door to their bedroom had barely shut, before the door to their home smashed into millions of splinters.

James fought the best he could – this was his fourth ever duel with Voldemort, and he – wasn't – going – to – give – in!

But then a bit of rubble from the fight – oh, the woes of Reductos – became his stumbling block. In an effort to escape one of Voldemort's nastier curses, James tripped, and landed on the ground.

Voldemort smiled. "You put up a good fight, James Potter," he hissed. "Join me, and I shall make you great!"

James spat at the Dark Lord. "Marauders Forever. Sic Fiat!"

Voldemort laughed, a high, cold laugh that sent chills up James' spine. And then, before he could scramble away –

"Avada Kedavra."

James tried to dodge, but he couldn't, he couldn't, and all he could think was I am so sorry, Lily, and then the green light filled his eyes –

Agony exploded through his every cell, green light invading every part of his mind, and James suddenly felt as if he was both himself, and yet also Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily, and Harry and Voldemort –

Sirius choked, clutching at his chest, green light filling his eyes as he tumbled to the floor of his flat.

Lily cried out, clinging to her son, as she fell forward onto hers and James' bed.

Remus gasped, his eyes blazing gold and green, as he sank to the floor of his bedroom.

Harry felt fire, fire, green, hot, fire, burning burning burning burning –

Peter Pettigrew, from his apartment, screamed and screamed and screamed, green light filling his home as the life left his eyes. A lightning-shaped scar ripped across his face, spilling blood onto the floor of his apartment.

Voldemort screamed, his body collapsing into ash as his spirit fled Godric's Hollow.

And, suddenly, abruptly, James found himself back on the floor of his house. Within moments, Lily had come thundering back down the stairs, with Sirius and Remus Apparating in within moments of each other.

"Peter," Sirius and Remus said; their eyes were hard. Lily nodded. "Did you feel it too?" she asked.

James nodded slowly. "Yes," he whispered. "But first – he is defeated, for a time, but Voldemort is not dead. And I've had enough of the Wizarding World failing us, haven't you guys?"

Sirius scowled. "Oh, I agree wholeheartedly." Remus just nodded mutely.

A smirk spread across James' face, and he flicked his wand in a way that Hogwarts students and graduates might recognize. Emblazoned in the sky, there was now a crimson stag and Grim, encircled by a moon and guided by a kestrel. Beneath the strange sigil was the shape of two open hands, cupping the entire thing.

Sirius stared, his eyes glistening. "To the True Marauders," he whispered. "Sic Fiat."

Remus and Lily locked gazes, and nodded. "Sic Fiat."

James took Harry from Lily's arms, and smiled coldly. "Semper Fidelis, Sic Fiat," he said. (Forever Loyal, So Mote it Be, Latin)

Strike Three.

All of their chances were over – Wizarding Britain, watch out. Here come the True Marauders.

FIN