Disclaimer: the characters are all of J. K. Rowling's creation.

January 1972 – James

"Where're you going?" Sirius asked when James headed a different direction. "You aren't heading to the library are you?"

James merely said, "there's something off about Remus."

"His mother's sick," Peter, who trailed behind the two, offered.

"Every month? And the teachers are fine with it? He always looks sick when he disappears, and he comes back with new scars every time?" burst James.

Sirius nodded. "That doesn't explain the lib – oh."The pieces fell together, and, eyes wide with realization, he looked at his friend. "You don't think he's a – you do! James, he's Remus. He wouldn't hurt anyone. He's so composed and quiet and kind."

But they had reached the library, and James set off to the section about magical creatures, feverishly flipping through the book he found.

"There," he showed Sirius and Peter. "All the signs match. I've been recording the days he goes missing, and it's always around the full moon."

"Dumbledore wouldn't let a werewolf go here, though, would he?" Peter asked.

"Well, our Headmaster is a bit unique," Sirius pointed out.

"Tonight's the full moon, and Remus vanished this morning."

"We'll go find him in the infirmary tomorrow."

"Will Madam Pomfrey let us in though?"

"She doesn't have to. We have the Cloak, remember?"

That night, the Shrieking Shack howled, and James knew it was Remus hurting himself. Knew that his friend – well, with Remus who closed himself off, who was distant, from everyone, if James was older, he wouldn't be sure what their relationship could be classified as, but as it was, he was just eleven, turning twelve in March, so just because they shared the same dorm, they were friends, and Remus, who only ever smiled sadly, intrigued him – was in pain.

Finally James understood why the boy was in the same House as him, and James made a promise to himself. He would teach Remus how to smile, to laugh, freely, genuinely, happily. He would help him through his transformations, which must be agony. He would be Remus' friend, despite his... condition? No. Despite his furry little problem.

Something about James Potter: he never broke his promises.

February 1977 – Sirius

They were sixth-years. One more year at Hogwarts, and then they would graduate. They were supposed to face a bright future, a future of possibilities, of fantasies, of kisses and loves, of growing old together, of living to the fullest.

They were not mature. One more year of safety, and then they would be forced to grow up. They were not supposed to face a large-scale war, their dreams shattered, families massacred, unable to say goodbye, their lives too short.

You didn't have to be a Seer to know what would happen, and Sirius Black cursed whatever higher power there was each day as he read the morning paper, whose headlines were always screaming about Death Eaters, murders, dangers, while whispering about the impending massive bloodshed due to come any time soon.

Scanning the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, he spotted his brother, who conversed easily with Snape, Malfoy, and Mulciber. Regulus is going to be Voldemort's someday, and I am powerless to stop that, Sirius reflected, oddly calm. Maybe one day I'll have to fight him –

"Hey, Padfoot, so, Wormtail and I were thinking that we could try exploring this new passage Moony found last night while everyone's off to Hogsmeade," cut James' voice through Sirius' thoughts.

"What? Oh. Why the bloody hell would you want to skip the Valentine's weekend?"

"Evans turned me down."

"Like that's a surprise," Remus said under his breath.

James curtly ignored him. "And besides, we'll still arrive at the village, just through a different route."

"Fine by me, then," agreed Sirius absentmindedly. "We're running low on Dungbombs, last I checked, and Filch does love its scent."

James grinned. "About that, I've actually thought of a prank..."

Something about Sirius Black: he was reckless. Anything which got his blood pumping – pranks, dangers, flying motorbikes, duels – he enjoyed. Yet he did have a brain (though Remus often said otherwise), and Sirius knew one thing. He would die laughing, he would die challenging Death, because that was what he loved, but also because he would do so fighting for the right cause, for his friends, for Voldemort to lose.

And he did, didn't he?

March 1976 – Remus

"A Patronus Charm," rasped their elderly Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, "is a projection of happiness, acting as a guardian, which is highly advanced magic, and can be conjured by thinking of a powerful happy memory while saying the incantation 'Expecto Patronum.' Many talented wizards have not been able to cast it, but I would like all of you to try."

The class did, most only able to conjure silvery wisps, but Padfoot and Prongs' forms were chasing each other through the room, much to the amazement of many. By the end of the class, Lily managed a semi-corporeal Patronus, Snape was frustrated at being bested by James, and Remus had not even tried, instead lagging behind in class.

"I'll see you guys later, I just need to talk to Professor Volant for a moment," mumbled the latter.

"Mr Lupin, is there anything you would like to ask?" the Professor said.

"There is, actually, sir." Hesitating for a moment, Remus steeled himself. "I've been able to cast a corporeal Patronus since I was eleven." At that, the Professor's eyes widened. "But I wanted to inquire about the form of mine. It's a wolf. It's a reminder of all the full moons, it's a reminder of the monster I am. Why? Isn't it supposed to be happy? A guardian?"

Silently, the elder wizard studied the younger, before answering, "a wolf is not the same as a werewolf, Mr Lupin. They are very different in behavior. Also, I have found that the wolf symbolizes loyalty and courage, sharp intelligence and powerful instincts. Wolves desire freedom, but they may mean that you mistrust somebody, maybe even your own self. You are not a monster, dear child. You are a brilliant, extraordinary young man. Anyone, including yourself, who cannot see that is misguided. Now," rummaging through this bag he took out a bar of chocolate, "take this, and run along. I believe your friends are waiting to lecture you.

Indeed, the other three Marauders were standing outside the door.

"We heard what you talked about," Sirius murmured guiltily. He went on, though this time with conviction. "You're an idiotic, clumsy, unbearable, silly genius for three hundred and... fifty two days of the year."

Grinning his signature grin, James put in, "for twelve days you just have a furry little problem. I think we established years ago that we don't care about it. Why should we? You don't control the werewolf. That furball is not you."

Something about Remus Lupin: he was eternally grateful for his friends.

April 1978 – Peter

"Ready?" whispered James.

"Of course," mumbled Peter, who promptly shrunk into a rat.

Beneath the Invisibility Cloak, scanning the Marauder's Map, Prongs smiled as Wormtail scurried through the corridors, swiftly moving into position. Muttering Sirius' name into his two-way mirror, James could not help but smile.

Padfoot's face swirled into view in the glass. "Moony's set everything up already, we just need Peter to start it."

"Good, I just need to find Snivellus. I'd hate for him to miss this."

"See you, then, Messr Prongs. Don't be late."

So it was, that in the morning of April 1, 1978, the Marauders pulled off their last April Fool's prank.

Somehow, the students of Hogwarts woke up to find that they all spoke in hundreds of different languages, unable to comprehend any other student, the clocks were all messed up, names forgotten, their hair had changed, and articles of clothing were missing. To top it all up, wild boars had been let loose in the corridors, nasty Every Flavor Beans were smuggled into the food (courtesy of James tricking the House Elves), pumpkin juice was changed into firewhiskey, Dungbombs exploded in every corner, and Peeves cackled madly as he saluted the Marauders, helping them by dropping water bombs everywhere. Most mysterious of all, perhaps, was that Severus Snape was found standing right in front of a crate of exploding fireworks, which chased him all over the school, all day long.

Lessons for the day ended up being canceled, a furious McGonagall summoned the four troublemakers to Dumbledore's office, but, much to her chagrin, the Headmaster was too busy trying (and failing) not to laugh, that he did not reprimand them. Instead, Dumbledore thanked them for bringing some cheer, telling McGonagall to lighten up.

Laughing heartily together, the Marauders began planning another day of pranking for their graduation day. Peter's Animagus form had become invaluable when trying to eavesdrop teachers, or sneak things somewhere. Now, more than ever, the Marauders were strong. They knew not what hardships would come, but knew they would face it together, because, something about Peter Pettigrew: he was their friend.

May 1998 – Remus

The battle was raging, and Remus Lupin found himself alone in the midst of it all. There was a deep-seated knowledge which told him that he would not survive this, and though he regretted that he would not raise Teddy, Remus knew that his son would be well cared for.

Somewhere to his right, the werewolf knew that Tonks was fending off Death Eater after Death Eater, just as he himself was, and Remus could not help but think of how much James and Lily would have liked the ferocious, witty, youthful Auror.

Yet it was not the time to have such nostalgic thoughts.

"Stupefy!" he shouted, stunning three of the masked wizards at once, ducking to avoid Tonks' red jet of light, while spinning and, "Protego!" shielding both of them from an Avada Kedavra.

"Confringo!" The fire shooting out of Tonks' wand blasted the last Death Eater in their proximity away, and for a moment, chests heaving, they looked at each other.

"You should leave, Dora," murmured Remus.

"And you should know that I will not."

"Teddy needs you. What if neither of us makes it through the fight alive?"

"Then my mother and Harry will take care of him," Tonks said softly, "and he will know that his parents died fighting to make a better world for him to grow up in." Then she closed the space between them, pecking Remus' lips in a short, swift kiss, her hair bubblegum pink, before turning around, grinning like the devil, striding strong and unafraid into the field of Death.

And for one second Remus thought that James might have looked the same that Halloween night an eternity ago.

Despite his fears and worries, he followed his wife. After all, he thought, Hogwarts, his home, was not such a bad place to die, fighting for his son's future, was a cause worth fighting for, and meeting his friends again was not bad ending.

So, later that night, when green jet of light hit him, and a jumble of thoughts rushed through his head – Teddy, Tonks, Harry – Remus surrendered himself to Death – James, Sirius, Lily – because he knew his family would be in good hands, whatever happened. As he fell, strong arms caught him, and he could hear a familiar roar of laughter.

Something about Remus Lupin: he believed, loved, and hoped, despite everything.

June 1993 – Sirius

Oh, to breathe the free air, to feel light without it being sucked away, to leave the dreadful walls of Azkaban... Sirius Black howled in laughter. Twelve years. He'd waited twelve years to avenge James and Lily. Harry would turn thirteen in a month. Peter was in Egypt. The graves were in England. Choosing the latter country, the black dog continued its long grueling journey, because he had not seen where their bodies were finally lain to rest, and would Harry look like James, or Lily? How was Remus? Questions swirled in his mind, but one thing of utmost importance: he could not be caught.

Running down the village road of Godric's Hollow, the dog stopped, staring at the statue, head cocked to one side in confusion as it slowly morphed from its Muggle visage to that of its true form.

James and Lily, cradling a baby Harry.

They got it wrong, mused Sirius. Prongs would never sit so neatly like that. His hair is messier, and his smile is lopsided. Lily's eyes are green, not the plain gray of stone. But detaching himself from his thoughts, the dog noticed that wildflowers had grown around the memorial, the same ones he saw later twining around the rusted gates of the ruined house, not far down the achingly familiar road, and plucked some with his teeth.

There was a sign, a description of the site. To thousands, the derelict house was a place of miracle. To Sirius, it was where his friends, his life, ended. It should never have been abandoned. The window curtains should have been open, so you could see a woman chasing around a young boy and his friends, while the father urged his son, brooms in hand, to play Quidditch. It should have been a place of life, ringing with laughter.

Slowly the dog turned around, the villagers not taking notice as it slipped past the church, through an iron entrance, and into the empty graveyard.

Running quickly through the rows of stones, its eyes wildly searched for their names. They had to be buried here. It was the only possible place. He had not known anything about the funeral, but Sirius liked to think that Remus arranged it.

Finally, he found the square stone, bearing their names, dates, and a quote. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death. There were flowers too on the ground, yellow of bright hope, white of youth's empty canvas, blue of peace. And Sirius placed lilies of a new color: red of blood, remembrance, memory, painful grief.

Something about Sirius Black: he chose his own family – James, Lily, Remus, Harry.

July 1980 – James

"The baby's going to come out in a few days, James," Lily murmured.

"Hmm? Oh, Fleamont?"

"Didn't we decide on Leo?"

"Too short. Trevor?"

"No, I don't like the sound."

Somewhere from another corner of the room, where Sirius was disturbing Remus' peaceful reading, Moony's voice suggested, "Harry."

"Why Harry?"

"I dunno, the book I'm reading has a character named Harry."

Sirius smirked. "Harry James Potter has a nice ring to it."

"Fine. Harry," Lily said firmly. "That is the final name."

"Besides Prongslet, yeah," replied James, a mischievous smile on his face. "Wouldn't it be a pity if the child grew up not knowing any of Hogwarts' secrets, Padfoot? The Prongslet will be a person to drive fear in McGonagall's mind. All the tricks we could teach him, the pranks he could play, the fun he would have – "

"And all the detentions? You forget that he's my son too," snarled Lily.

Remus chuckled, "well, Lily, if one day you all manage to convince me to teach, I will make sure to keep the mighty Prongslet in check."

"But you're a Marauder," whined James and Sirius.

"But I am that too, Lily, so, a little laugh here and there would be fine, yes?"

"I should have known better than to marry him."

"Well, deer," began James as Lily and Remus resisted the urge to cover their faces, "doe not you love me?"

Unamused, Lily raised her eyebrow. "No."

Looking pained as he gasps in faux surprise, "are you serious?"

"Yes," said Sirius, and the room's occupants burst in exasperated laughter.

Peter came in just then, carrying a tray of food and Butterbeer. "What did I miss?"

Something about James Potter: he loved all the adrenaline-filled moments of their friendship – the nights sneaking about, full moons and adventures, pranks and detentions, McGonagall's stern lectures as Dumbledore's lips twitched – but his favorite moments were the simple ones, where they talked about both everything, and nothing.

August 1974 – Peter

They stood beneath the Cloak, not daring to move as Mrs Potter waved her lighted wand around, in search of the source of noise.

"Come out, now. I know you're there." A few seconds of pause. "No? Well, then, we'll do this by force. Homenum Revelio."

Had it been any other Invisibility Cloak, and not the fabled Hallow, the spell would have revealed their position. Peter trembled slightly beneath the silvery material. If the woman knew what they had been up to, she would have been furiously angry – they had stolen their way through the dark passages to research on Animagi techniques (which are dangerous) in the Potter library, and were just on their way back to their rooms.

A plan formed in the back of Peter's head. He ducked out of the Cloak.

"Oh! Mrs Potter, I'm sorry," convincing surprise in Peter's voice.

The stern look on her face was formidable. "Peter, just what are you doing out of bed at this time?"

"I lost my way."

"Why did you get out of your room? It's not the time to be sneaking around."

Casting his eyes down in faux innocence, he mumbled, "actually, I was looking for you, ma'am." An arch of her eyebrow told him to continue. "How is your husband? I couldn't sleep, and I thought I of him. He was very kind the last time I came."

"He's recovering from the accident," she said softly. "Fleamont has finally learned to not dabble with too many ingredients all at once."

James' father, a talented Potions Master, had been experimenting with many volatile ingredients, which caused him to be in the center of a rather large explosion, and had to be carried off to Saint Mungo's for a week.

"Well, that's good. It's just that I was worried. James is too." He smiled at her before turning around and walking away.

"Oh, and Peter," called Mrs Potter, "tell James that his father sent a letter to me, just now. He says hello. He'll be back by Monday.

When they were far enough, James whispered, "thanks for playing with my mom's feelings and using my dad's incident."

"At least I saved us an hour of lecturing and shouting."

Something about Peter Pettigrew: he was clever. But cleverness, they all found a bit too late, did not equate to wisdom, nor did it to loyalty.

September 1971 – Marauders

Dumbledore strode around his office, as McGonagall patiently waited for him to begin speaking.

"Your lot this year is interesting, is it not, Minerva?"

"Quite very much so. A werewolf, a Black, a Potter. And there's Pettigrew there out of nowhere."

Laughing, the wizard faced the stern witch. "The Sorting Hat had its reasons."

"Driving me to insanity might not be an acceptable excuse. The Blacks are prejudiced against werewolves, and it is known that they hate Potters. Mr Pettigrew will be pulled to this side or that, while Mr Lupin eventually drops out of school after being discovered," snapped McGonagall.

"Or," the Headmaster softly said, stroking Fawkes, "they could become friends, and make history. Do not think so negatively, Minerva. There is hope yet."

Unexpectedly, from its place in the shelf, the Sorting Hat spoke. "Mr Black's decision to go against the deeply-rooted values of his unyielding family despite the consequences makes him worthy of the brave. Mr Lupin who knows pain too well, and yet pushes on with a stoic attitude, refusing to drown in the agony, clearly is a Gryffindor. Mr Potter's unbending loyalty, moral convinctions, and his bright spirit of adventure places him in the House of red blood and golden glory, while Mr Pettigrew chose to be accounted as one of the daring. I think, you will find that my decisions were not wrong, Professor McGonagall."

Something about the Marauders: they were worthy of Gryffindor, and in proving so, they brought light into our world.

For, sometimes, to see the light, we need darkness – the Marauders had light aplenty, which endured long, even after their deaths, in the form of Harry Potter, the Map, the twins who were their successors, the Patronus. Their world was, indeed, dark, but they shone like stars in the night sky.

When McGonagall thought of her students, she would always remember them first: James' messy hair and smirk, Sirius' reckless grin and his glinting eyes, Remus' calm smile and deceivingly placid nature, Peter who was once kind and good but was corrupted.

Something else about the Marauders: they achieved immortality in the hearts of those who survived, for, alas, it is the brightest stars which burn the shortest.

October 1981 – James

Harry was happily reaching for the sparks which flew from James' wand, as Lily rocked the baby in her lap, their green eyes bright with joy.

"Who do you want to be for Halloween?" cooed Lily to Harry, who could barely understand her, and only responded with a questioning look.

"He could be a banshee," suggested Sirius as he laughed. "Certainly sounds like one already when he cries."

"You're supposed to be his godfather."

"Never said I suited the role. It's your turn, Remus."

"What? Oh."

They were playing a game of chess together, but a book was distracting Moony, and Harry's laughs were captivating Padfoot's attention. As James laid back on the floor, Sirius sprawled on the sofa, Peter sat quietly in a chair observing the two, and Moony lounged in an armchair, there was a sense of peace and familiarity despite the raging war.

It was Lily who broke the sudden quiet. "James, what if we don't make it?"

"Calm down, Lily. I'll be there to teach the kid for you," Sirius said.

"We'll get out of this," James promised. "Harry will live, and we'll get out of this war."

Remus looked up from his book, a soft smile on his lips. "Voldemort can't win."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Peter.

"Because there is always hope," replied the werewolf, looking at an uncomprehending Harry, who would never remember anything of his first year of life.

"And we're the Marauders, Lily," smirked James. "We'll give him hell, yeah?"

"Who wants to live forever, anyways?" Sirius questioned, a gleam in his eyes.

"Besides, we've never taken the easy way out. If we die, we die fighting for a just cause, for a better future," murmured Remus.

Lily smiled. "Of course. Just a usual day with you guys. Challenging Death, wreaking havoc, and fighting. What's new?"

The next day, they did get out of the war, and Harry did live, because, after all, James Potter was never one to break his promises. As he faced Voldemort without a wand, James smiled, he hefted an invisible sword. His hazel eyes dancing despite his fear.

Something about James Potter: he was reckless, impulsive, proud, brave, unerringly loyal and positively insane. He was human. And humans die.

November 1981 – Sirius

Walking into the broken house, mind blank (was it blank, or screaming so loudly he couldn't hear any of his other thoughts?) Sirius saw papers scattered in the living room. Picking them up, he realised that they were birthday plans for him. He resisted the urge to crumple the parchment in frustration, anger, helplessness, and instead placed it reverently back, careful to avoid the cups and plates still on the table.

He'd woken up early, before the sun had even risen, feeling that something was wrong. Tossing an turning in bed, he'd given up trying to sleep, instead taking his motorcycle to check on Peter. But Wormtail, the rat, was gone, and a sense of dread filled Sirius as he approached the stairs.

One. Two. He counted, knowing there were twenty. At the tenth, he rounded the corner, and he saw. Saw first the still legs, then the torso, and finally the face of his friend, his brother. So still, arms splayed, as if trying to block an attacker as he fell, legs bent at an awkward angle, clothes and hair rumpled, glasses crooked and faintly cracked, eyes staring emptily upwards, mouth turned into one last smirk, one last smile.

Sirius bent down to hesitantly close James' eyes, glancing at the familiar hazel orbs for what seemed like an eternity, and fixed his glasses. He moved James slightly, so the body was more comfortable, but who was he kidding? Sirius asked himself. James was gone. Gone, forever. With a lurch, his mind worked out that Lily would be too.

Leaving James for a while, promising to come back, he walked to Harry's room. Lily lay on the floor, as if in peace, and Harry cried, choking on his tears, a gash on his forehead. Green eyes stared at him intently. Sirius let his own tears fall. He took his godson in his arms and slid down the door frame. He could see James and Lily's bodies.

How long he sat there, Sirius didn't know. The sun illuminated the sky, mocking him with its light. Sirius knew that all over Britain wizards and witches would celebrate. Except him. Except Remus.

The next thing he knew was a mad, burning desire to kill Peter, but before he could leave, Hagrid came up the stairs. He trusted Hagrid, trusted Dumbledore, so Sirius gave Harry to the gamekeeper. See you, Prongs. Bye, Lily. One last look at their faces, and he left. Left and never came back. For he found Peter, but the traitor slipped away like a coward, and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, on his birthday.

The Dementors reveled in his grief, sucking away his happiness, making him slowly begin to forget how to smile. However, something about Sirius Black: he held on to James' memory, and he fought on, until he broke free and heard again his friend's laugh.

December 1995 – Remus

Remus supposed he should be happy. Harry and his friends and Tonks were there for Christmas, and Sirius was cheerful, despite being in his mother's house.

Yet it was all wrong.

Even after many years, of trying to push aside the grief, he could not forget James and Lily, who were burned forever into his mind. Why did they die, when they deserved to live more than he, Remus, did? Looking at Harry made the pain sharper, for it felt like seeing James, and those eyes were Lily's very same ones.

There were so many things happening, now, so very quickly, that Remus could not find it in him to relax and enjoy the Christmas dinner. Sirius always wanting to go out, Tonks smiling at him, the full moon, spying, Voldemort, Harry, Umbridge, Hogwarts, war.

Pushing his chair back, Remus walked away from the table, excusing himself with muttered words. After having walked out of the room, only then did he realise that Sirius had followed him.

"I'm alright, Padfoot."

"You aren't. The full moon is a week away. You're acting weirdly."

"I'm fine."

"Are we playing this game again, Remus?"

"There is no game. I'm leaving. I need time alone."

"So that you can berate yourself? Curse yourself? Call yourself a monster? For what, Remus? I would know how damaging thoughts can be."

For one second, before the storm broke, there was calm. Then, "do you think, sometimes, that it is better to die?" Remus harshly asked. "I don't know anymore why I bear all this pain. Sometimes I do it for those who died in the First Wizarding War, for James and Lily, for Dumbledore and the teachers who taught me, for Harry and his friends. But sometimes I don't know anymore. Does anyone even need me?"

"You once told me this when I asked the same thing: we need you, Remus. Me, Harry, Dumbledore and so many others. You're like her, you know? Lily, she saw the good in everyone, except herself. Everyone is needed, everyone has a small flame of life, you told me, and that flame can set fire to this cold world. We can choose to create meaning, or fade away. Remus, there are things worse than death, but we must face Voldemort first, for the sake of the future, for those who died fighting, before we face the last enemy."

And he nodded mutely as his own words were said back to him, because, something about Remus Lupin: he certainly knew that there were worse things than Death.

Epilouge: Catch Me

December 1991

"It's a Muggle game of trust," Sirius said excitedly.

Sceptically, Remus asked, "so we're supposed to just fall back and trust the other person to catch us? You realise we might hit our heads, break our neck, or our skull, and die? Wizards aren't immortal."

"Scared?" taunted James.

"Not scared, just logical."

"Why don't we show him?" Sirius asked. "I'll fall, you catch me, James."

And Sirius leaned back, no fear at all that his friend would fail. For one second he had no support, but he did not doubt. The next moment, two strong arms caught him, and Sirius grinned back at James, thrilled.

"See? Peter, you want to try?"

He nodded warily as Remus crossed his arms, watching. Perfectly, James caught Peter also, then he looked expectantly at Remus, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I'll catch you. Don't worry." James' promise was so confident, so sure.

For one second, the other boy hesitated. Then nodded. Closing his eyes, Remus fell back. One, two, three. Thump. His body hit James' hands, and he slowly opened the lids of his eyes, breathing in relief.

James smirked. "Told you so."

June 1996

The laugh was still in his throat, the grin on his face, when Sirius fell, the Killing Curse hitting him. He saw Bellatrix's satisfied expression, Harry's shocked one. He regretted leaving the child again, but Remus held Harry back, and he knew that his friend would take care of Harry. Good luck, Moony. You'd make a good father, you know?

He stumbled back, the Veil rippling, his body falling through. Sirius waited for the impact. It didn't come.

A pair of hands caught him steadily. Hazel eyes stared into his black ones, smiling.

"Did you think I wouldn't catch you?" James asked.

Sirius laughed. "Missed you, Prongs."

March 1998

Peter Pettigrew was on the ground when he died, the metallic arm from Voldemort choking him. When he opened his eyes after the black nothingness, he saw James, Sirius and Lily standing over him.

"How could you?" asked James.

"Why did you betray us?" Lily whispered, voice filled with contempt.

"He didn't trust us enough," Sirius said, and they turned away, leaving Peter alone.

May 1998

A redheaded man who was barely an adult fell, and James deftly stopped his fall. Years watching his son, he knew Fred Weasley.

"Where am I? Harry?"

"No, I'm Prongs, Harry's father. This is Padfoot, and she is Lily."

"You were Padfoot and you never told me?" Fred cackled with glee. "The havoc we could make..." his voice died, his face fell. "Oh, George, I'm sorry."

Lily grasped Fred's shoulders. "If it's any comfort, you're welcome in our family, just as Harry was in yours. We'll take care of you, and you can watch over George, yeah?"

Fred nodded as the air rippled, while James laughed as he caught Remus.

"Too soon, Moony. Way too soon. I missed you, but, well – "

Remus sighed heavily, standing up. "Teddy will one day understand."

They looked at each other, about to say something when the air was once more disturbed and somebody fell through. Rushing forward, Remus caught her.

"Too soon, Dora," he said to a dazed Tonks, whose face broke into a grin. "Prongs," began Remus amusedly, "this is Nympha – "

"Tonks. I'm Tonks, and you're James and Lily Potter. Nice to meet you. If you call me by my given name, I'll find a way to kill you again."

"I like her, Moony," James said. "Welcome to the family, Tonks."

He held out his hand. She shook it.

Something about them: even if they had regrets, they were happy, because it wasn't the end, it wasn't goodbye. It was hello.