Disclaimer: Hogwarts and the World of Harry Potter belong to J.K Rowling, our goddess, not me. (I'd wish!). I'm only writing this for fun.

This is an old story I found when I browsed through my old documents and took instant liking to - it's too bad that I never finished writing it and that approx. 90 % of everything I had written was utter crap and have to be re-written. I started this fic in 2005, so both me and my language have evolved since then. English isn't my first language, more like my third, and I really appreciate constructive criticism. You are welcome to correct mispellings or just really weird sentences, sometimes I tend to fall back and use Swedish clause instead of English.

What is this story about? Since this prologue is rather uninformative about the big picture, I can tell you the synopsis: the story takes place but during the First Wizard War (and the year leading to it) and the Second and follow a bunch of well-known characters (The Maraduers, Lily, Regulus, Severus) as well as a few characters I have developed myself. This prologue takes place after Lily and James' death and is supposed to be a "sneek peak" at the future and then to be followed by a look at The Marauders' time at Hogwarts.

Enjoy!


Lucius Malfoy

Malfoy Manor, End of November 1981

He sneered as he looked down on the girl on the floor. Her will was completely broken now, finally. The beautiful golden red hair had during the last days been transformed to a tangled damp mass, changed beyond recognition. Normally she would wield it like a shining banner, softly streaming down her back or blowing in the wind, like a lion's mane. She had a lot of confidence. A lot of strength. No, she hadn't. She had had confidence and strength. He laughed softly as he thought about how she had behaved when they first brought her in. The scratch marks on Dolohov's cheeks proved that even though she didn't have her wand she wasn't going to let them imprison her without paying the price. Now he saw nothing of that fire. She was just… empty.
It hadn't taken much to put the light out in her eyes. As he studied her hunched shoulders, the pale skin that was visible where her robes had been torn as she had struggled to break free, the dirty hands that she had hidden her face in, most certainly to cover all signs of tears from view, he began to understand why Dolohov loved tormenting her so much. This was a real improvement. And all that had been needed were a lie, one false sentence. Four little words that had ruined her world.
"You haven't heard? Black got the Kiss."

It had been Bellatrix' idea, carefully planned before she left the mansion with her husband, brother-in-law and young Barty Crouch Jr. Too bad that they had never returned. Too bad they had been sent to Azkaban. Bellatrix would have loved to watch the girl and her despair. Her tears. And who could really blame her for crying? Not 20 yet and she had already lost her future. She was bound to meet her end here, one way or another. Bound to rotten away in the cellar of Malfoy Manor. Or to be given to the Dark Lord if he would ever return, though Lucius doubted it. One way or another it meant death for her.

Sirius Black

Azkaban Prison, End of November 1981

At the very same moment the Death Eater walked away from the dungeon, up the stairs and into the luxurious parlour of the mansion, another man woke up from a dream many miles away. Once it had been a happy dream, it had meant peace and love and everything he wanted in life, but now it meant nothing but despair. It only meant that the scars were re-opened again. That the guilt started to flow through him once more, seeping into his veins and traveling with his blood, poisoning his heart and mind. That the mocking voice in his head once more went over his mistakes.

The chill air was filled with despair, but with the dementors just outside the cellar door it was to be expected. They seemed to feel that he hurt more now than he had done when he arrived here. How many weeks had he been here? Or were it only a mere few days? No, he had definitely been here a couple of weeks. It couldn't be months, could it?

His clothes were torn and as he followed his jaw with his fingers, raw after trying to claw out through the walls after a night with particularly bad dreams, he felt the harsh stubble that had slowly began to grow into a beard. A beard. He had never thought about growing a beard before he was at least 80, but then he hadn't exactly expected to be thrown into Azkaban either.

When he first arrived here he thought he would soon be out. He wallowed in his despair, the sadness and emptiness and the memories that were all he had left of Lily and James. He took out his anger at the walls; pounding them with his fists and imagined that he they all bore Peter's face. He thought it would soon be ruled out as a misunderstanding. That she would convince Dumbledore that he was innocent, that she would explain to the Ministry. He knew she would never leave him in here one minute longer than she could help. She loved him and she knew Peter had been the secret keeper, she knew that he never would have joined Voldemort, never betrayed his best friends.

But after a while he started to doubt. The dementors were drowning his hope in a sea of cold misery. Maybe she believed him to be a traitor. Maybe she didn't love him as much as he thought. Maybe she was so blinded by her rage at Peter that she didn't wasted a minute to remember that he wasn't with her. That he was wasting away in Azkaban.

When three days had gone he began to fear for her. She would never be so cruel. He had seen her in the crowd as the Ministry wizards arrested him. He had seen the look on her face: shock, confusion, exhaustion, anger and grief. Then she had disappeared. One second she had been standing right there and the next she just wasn't anywhere to be seen. Somewhere between the moment when he met her eyes and the time it took for him to crane his neck to keep the eye contact she had disappeared. And that was what drenched him and left him soaking in fear right now. She was dead too. Like everyone else he had loved.
He had feared it, but trying to ignore the unwelcome thought for so long. But now it was time to realize that she was gone. It was his loathed cousin that had made him loose his last straw of hope that he clung to so hopelessly. The way Bellatrix had smirked when she had went past his cell. Her triumphant words still haunted him: "Her last words were your name".

It had made him crumble to an animalistic insanity that burned through his blood system, increased with every heartbeat. They had torn down everything he lived for. Everything he loved. Now he was stuck with nightmares of them, of James, of Lily and of her. All of them smiling. And it hurt to know that he could have made a difference. He could have protected them, but he hadn't. His mistakes had led to their deaths.


I promise! There's a somewhat logical explanation to why they don't just kill the girl in Lucius' part. Stay tuned and you'll find out - eventually.