AN: This is a prequel story, of sorts, to the Marauder Era story. While I don't think that's it necessary, given my rough planning, to read this story before the other one, I thought since it is in the same world, it would be better to have the first part happen first. (Following this logic, though, the three stories that come before this should be posted first, but I'm still working on those and they don't really impact this particular story). This is the story of an original character, Megara Davies from the Marauder's Era and her friendship with Lily Evans. It will mostly span her first year, maybe the second one. (Yes, I know my time line is off by about ten years. It's sort of AU as well, since I'm playing a bit with events. Just a bit). I hope you like it.

SEPTEMBER 1981

Of all the horrors she had to endure while attending school... This had to be one of them?

It was bad enough she would take classes with common-blooded wizards and witches, waiting for the mud-bloods to figure out magic while she knew everything. It was bad enough several of the Slytherin students were not pure-blood.

But this... this was her own personal hell.

Megara Davies stared around the Gryffindor dorm with distaste. The scarlet and gold hangings looked all wrong to her. The room was too warm—they were in one of the castle's many turrets. The moon was shining through the window.

Wrong, all wrong. She should not be able to see the moon, she should be cold right now. She should be in the dungeons, surrounded by green and silver. This was wrong, so wrong. She should be talking to her childhood friend, Faith Avery, as they got ready for bed.

Instead, she was glaring at everything she could see. None of the Gryffindor girls were pure-bloods. The red-head's comments at dinner made it clearly she was a mud-blood. The other two were most likely half-bloods. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she was trapped with them for the next few months at the least.

She'd thrown a fit as soon as the Sorting Hat proclaimed her a Gryffindor. Dumbledore had silenced her with a few calm words and a look that said 'I-will-not-tolerate-this.' He reminded her the Sorting Hat was never wrong. She yelled some more before storming out of the Great Hall. Behind her, the Sorting continued. But Dumbledore followed her out and gave her some rubbish about everything happens for a reason.

It was hard not to listen to the headmaster, she found. Her parents—indeed, all pure-bloods—disliked Dumbledore for offering equality to all students, no matter what their blood, but she had been hypnotised by his twinkling blue eyes and the gentle way he spoke. She agreed to stay until Christmas, at which point she would either leave to Durmstrang or continue her education here.

Dumbledore had allowed her to write a letter to her parents about what happened before anyone else did. She knew they would be horrified and furious, but it was nothing to what she was feeling. She made sure they knew that in the letter. She didn't want this any more than they did.

The one consolation she had was that the Black heir, Sirius, was in Gryffindor too. She didn't get a chance to talk to him—he was joking around with James Potter all throughout dinner—but she resolved to try soon. James Potter came from a family of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, but as far as she knew, Sirius was the first Black to be sorted into a house other than Slytherin. Even his cousin, Andromeda, who only narrowly managed to dodge rumours about having a relationship with a mud-blood this past summer, was in Slytherin.

Megara sighed to herself. It wasn't calming her down, thinking daggers at everything in the room. The other girls weren't responding. The dark skinned girl was already in bed, and the other two were chatting quietly. It sounded like the brunette was telling the redhead about their world.

She scoffed. The mudblood would be attacked by the end of the week, no matter how much she knew about their world. It would take only a little research into her background. Nothing would save her. If it wasn't this week, it would just be the next. She wouldn't be able to escape for long.

Megara climbed into bed reluctantly. Maybe sleep would make the night go by faster. In the morning, she could sit with her friends at the Slytherin table. She would probably have classes with them. She could ignore her new house mates. All she had to do was hold until Christmas. Or maybe her parents would send her somewhere else immediately. That happy thought lulled her to sleep.

000

She woke at dawn. After making sure she was perfectly pressed and she had eyed her Gryffindor tie with the proper amount of distaste, she wandered into the common room.

It was worse down here. The fires were lit, even though it was September and still hot outside, and it made the room stifling. Everything was scarlet, with gold accents and chairs.

Two of those chairs were occupied. She recognised James Potter's untameable hair instantly. All the Potters had it. Judging by the shiny black hair and Potter's familiarity, the other boy was Sirius Black. They were bent over a piece of parchment, dressed in muggle clothing. She wrinkled her nose—the Blacks wouldn't know about or like that. As she approached them, she saw they were wearing almost identical smirks. She didn't think they were up to any good. But that didn't matter to her.

"Good morning, James, Sirius."

Since they were pure-bloods, she kept her tone polite. But there was no need to encourage familiarity—she wasn't going to be here that long—so she also kept her tone cool.

"Good morning, Davies." Potter said coldly. Not distantly, like she did, but rather like he didn't want to address her. Sirius repeated his friend's words, and although he was more jovial about it, he didn't appear to want to address her either.

She understood it in James' case—his parents supported muggle rights and all that rubbish—but she was put off in Sirius' case. She didn't show it. She learned from a young age how to hide emotions.

"May I speak to you, Sirius?"

"Suppose so," he said hesitantly, looking to James.

James shrugged but there was a suspicious look in his eyes. "I could use a little more sleep." He picked up the parchment and left.

Megara gracefully folded herself in the newly vacated chair. "I wanted to speak to you about our situation."

"Our situation?" His brow furrowed. The confusion made her pause.

"Yes. Neither of us were sorted into Slytherin."

The confusion began to ease into understanding, but he did not look happy, which didn't look promising to her. "And what did you have to say about it?"

"Surely you can't be happy with—"

"Let's not make assumptions, Davies."

Thrown by the coldly-spoken sentiment, she gaped in a very unladylike fashion for several moments. His pale blue-grey eyes were icy, and it chilled her to the bone. "Um... You're happy here?" She blurted out as his words settled into her mind. Without giving him a chance to respond, she continued, "But there are so many mud-bloods around. How can you be happy around this blasphemy?"

"Maybe I don't consider it blasphemy?" His voice had lost some of the coldness, but the harshness remained. It seemed more like anger to her.

She gaped again but quickly composed herself. "I apologise. You're right, of course, I shouldn't make assumptions. But you were raised as I was, and I can't understand why—why you aren't feeling what I'm feeling."

His face was guarded and cautious. Slowly, it softened and he sighed. "I didn't have quite the same upbringing as you, Davies. My uncle married a half-blood—I'm sure you know that, us pure-bloods are a gossipy bunch—and he didn't believe much in blood. And I spent a lot of time with him growing up. It's not like mummy and daddy could be bothered to spend time with me."

The bitterness, while concealed, was still sharp. It cut through her painfully; he was too young to feel like that deeply. Or maybe he was too immature to understand. One day, would he understand that no one spent time with anyone? One day, would he understand his parents were doing him a favour by treating him that way?

"But I bet you know all about that, Davies. Your parents told you lots of lies to end your tantrums. They told you it was for the best, that no one was going to pay much attention to you as you got older. No one would want to take care of you. Maybe that's true. Maybe it's not. But what it comes down to is how much they care, and even you, Davies, can't say that mummy and daddy love you."

His voice was soft but somehow threatening. Her skin was ice cold, even though the rising sun made the room warmer. She sat, paralysed, trying to think of something to say. Of course her parents loved her. Right? Hadn't they... They...

She jumped up. "You're wrong!"

Heat flooded her face at her immature and much too vehement response. Sirius laughed lowly, and the heat swirled away from her. He was so bitter. So hateful. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to match this caustic boy with the one who had been laughing not ten minutes ago. She couldn't do it. The boy who had been laughing looked light and untroubled. This boy was dark. Biting.

A laugh echoed through the room. Her eyes flew open at the untroubled sound.

Sirius' face was much more boyish when not sharpened by pain. He grinned at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, Davies. Didn't mean for it to get so heavy." He jumped up, the sudden movement startling her, and tugged his grin into a neutral expression. "Megan, right?"

"Megara," she corrected. Her voice came out as breathless. The shock hadn't left her yet.

"Megara," he said calmly. "If you're looking for someone to share the...disappointment with, I'm not your man. I don't give a damn about blood. In the end, it's the same—we're witches and wizards. We can do magic. My parents are gonna hate me for this—but what can they do? It's just a house. It won't matter outside this castle or the pure-blood world. Why should it matter to me?"

"It's the rest of your life, Black!" She shrieked. "You'll be in this castle for the next seven years. During the summers you'll be at your family's house. After that, you'll be—"

"It'll be hard to leave my family," he interrupted. "But I'm not sure what I think about the after school part."

"You're insane." Her voice is a sharp contrast to her last words. She spoke softly, the only fervour in the words the fervour of conviction. He was crazy. He wouldn't be able to leave. Why would he anyway? Every door would be open for him. He would live in comfort and luxury.

"Probably." He grinned boyishly. "But you're not finding a friend in me, Davies, if that's what you want. I can't really sympathise with you. And I can't say I'm sorry. But I can wish you the best of luck. So... if that's all..."

She nodded slowly. Her heart was pounding in her chest from what felt suspiciously like fear. He started walking back up the stairs towards his dorm. "Wait!"

He turned back to her. "What?" His voice was edging towards unfriendly.

"What's wrong—" She choked on the words she was about to say. "What is wrong with our—my world?"

"Besides the emotional distance, the arrogance, that superior feeling, the hypocrisy, the corruption, and the cruelty they show everything?" The bitterness was back in full force. "If you believe in that, that's fine, but I wouldn't want someone telling me who to like and hate. I think I should be able to decide that for myself, don't you?"

He left abruptly, not waiting to see if she had more questions. Not that she did. No, he answered the main one—was he crazy?

And yes, yes he was. She believed he would give up everything he had—riches, opportunity, power—for something he would tire of eventually. She sighed deeply and sunk into the chair, dimly aware of footsteps on the staircases. Breakfast would be starting soon, and some of the more responsible students were getting back into the patterns of school. She rose slowly and walked past them.

Her conversation with Sirius had disturbed her on some level, but the lessons her parents had given her made her brush them aside as she stalked down the hall, ignoring the grumbled complaints from the students she pushed in front of. If Black was stupid enough to not realise what he had, then she would treat him like any other mud-blood loving pure-blood. She would pretend he didn't exist. It should be simple enough. From the look in his eyes, Sirius Black wasn't much more fond of her than she was of him.

Faith Avery was already at the Slytherin table with Marie Rosier. Megara walked towards them, not even glancing at the Gryffindor table. "Good morning."

Faith scrunched up her nose in a way that would earn her a scolding at home. "Good morning, Gryffindor."

"It's so good to see you. It's dreadful in that house."

"It's your house now, Megara," Marie said pointedly.

She scoffed. "You know there's a mud-blood in the dorm? It won't be my house ever. I told Dumbledore I would wait until Christmas to make a decision to leave, but my parents wouldn't possibly stand for it. They'll take me out and send me to Durmstrang by nightfall."

Faith rolled her eyes. It seemed she was using the three thousand mile distance from her parents to break all the etiquette rules. "They don't accept women."

"My father is a strong supporter of Durmstrang. He'll be able to get me in."

Faith rolled her eyes again. "Is there really a mud-blood in the dorm?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't know her name, of course," Megara said, dropping some food on her plate. "But she's a redhead."

Faith absorbed this with no expression. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't turn into a mud-blood lover over night. I was worried."

"I was horrified."

"I'm sorry."

There's nothing sincere in Faith's words, but Megara accepted them nonetheless. Marie leaned forward from where she sat across the table. "What about Sirius Black? Is he a mud-blood lover over night?"

"He's happy to be in Gryffindor," Megara said, confusion and revulsion warring in her voice.

Faith echoed her tone in her expression. Marie gasped. "He's what?"

"He's happy. I don't understand how he can be. But at least James Potter is with him. I have nobody. I'm going to die. I'd rather sleep in the forest."

"Is it that bad?"

"Of course it's that bad, Marie," Faith interjected. "Does Sirius' family know he's in Gryffindor?"

"His cousin Bellatrix looked angry. Surely, she already sent a letter," Megara reasoned.

"That's so strange," Marie said. "Two all-Slytherin families produce a Gryffindor each in the same year."

"Please, do not put me in the same category as Sirius Black."

"It's just strange."

It may have been strange to Marie, but to Megara, it was an ordeal she didn't want to handle.