The Red Engine

Summary:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present...The Hogwarts years; From Boys to Men. It is 1971 and rumours stir like litter in the wind; unnoticed except by the few who cared to look. The rise of Voldemort began with the untimely deaths and disappearances of several powerful men and women. For some who died it was only expected that they were targets - that's what they got for openly defying the Dark Lord - but for others lines were impossibly blurred, and investigations shut down. Who really pushed Wizarding Britain into war? And who stood in their way?[Slash+Lemon in later chapters POSSIBLY.]

Authors note:

Read this and know my motives, or don't, and lose the right to complain about them.

I've always wanted to try my hand at writing a Marauder-era fic, and looking through Fanfiction it seems that everything has been done before. I haven't let it stop me, but I wanted to let anyone reading know about a small part of my philosophy when it comes to these characters before they attempt to wade their way through yet another fan fiction. Get ready for long chapters, long-ish waits, and many many plotlines. This will be a semi-canon story, I'll try and get names and dates right, but anything that has been left for speculation is fair game - am I making myself clear? Fanon is not canon, which means I can do what I please with out people jumping down my neck. When I say fair game, I mean it. The larger chunk of events that went on in the background are just a combination of my own conclusions from logic, and a smattering of creativity. This will not be a romance centric story, because our lives aren't focused on finding "the one" - well I don't think they should be. At eleven all you think about is today. At eleven, you are immortal, and every scrape and bruise attests to the forever you have built. Any romance is fleeting at that age, and things that don't last - funnily enough - you have no time for (More on this later, since one character defies this theory utterly). This will however, be a relationship centric story. "What's the difference?" you may or may not ask. The difference, at least to me, is that not all relationships are romantic. Parents and children, students and teachers, friends, enemies, bullies and victims - don't those relationships count for something? I believe that family relationships and professional relationships are just as important and worth writing about. To ignore them is to confine the infinite world of emotion into, dare I say it, a single genre (gasp of horror) and I don't really want that. I will be writing pairings, however they will be secondary to the plot (and ahem, one of them may be m/m). That being said, I will also be writing about people other than the Marauders, i.e. their parents or members of the Order.

The characters J.K. Rowling has blessed us with are strong and complex, but I feel that I want to thank her for being somewhat vague about what came before. What came before The-Boy-Who-Lived, before the cupboard under the stairs, before the prophecy that destroyed a family and birthed a hero. This is what I am writing about. Life goes on, and subtlety is not dead (heh). I can't promise you a particularly great read and I can't promise you an end, but I can promise you a beginning, and a very strict inner editor.

So here goes.

The red engine occasionally let out puffs of steam, as if beckoning the students. The returning, while already familiar with the sight, still felt a tug in their guts every time they came back. Everywhere on Platform 9 and 3/4 mothers and fathers said goodbye to their children; a few last minute re-quoffings of hair, proud pats on shoulders of boys and girls who only had eyes for the train and some last minute stragglers bursting their way onto the platform through the brick wall - the sights and sounds of September 1st filled the air. Somewhere in the crowd stood the aging figures of Charlus and Dorea Potter, who were, much like everyone else, seeing their one and only son off to Hogwarts.

James Charlus* Potter squirmed under his fathers gaze as his mother stroked his hair and murmured endearments into his ear. Charlie silently communicated with his son. We love you. Try not to get in trouble. Make us proud. Don't you dare forget to write to your mum. James grinned sheepishly - a half promise to signify that he would write at least once every fortnight. Dorea broke away from her son and blinked away a few tears, she glanced back at her husband to see him looking stoically into the distance, his eyes a bit watery. He held his cane at his side, in defiance of his knees (and gravity) and Dorea remembered the genial man she had married, remembered a time when he wasn't so concerned with who saw him cry. A quieter life they'd had back then, a life without their son's laughter to bring movement and joy into the house. She stepped back and busied herself with James' trunk, checking and rechecking the pockets - knowing that Charlie needed his turn.

Charlus blinked and studied his boy. A little thing (he always was), the excitement evident in his fidgety frame. At birth James cried as he struggled into the world, not the girl Charlie had hoped he would be able to spoil, but loved nonetheless by his father immediately. At ten minutes old James had opened his big hazel eyes and stared in wonderment at his mother and father, both sweaty from the ordeal of Dorea's labour. At one year old James gurgled and reached fruitlessly upward when put to bed, Charlie having just recently installed a mobile above the crib, he'd waved his wand to make the little snitch ornaments fly around. At four, James had managed to get a hold of Charlie's wand - he used it to dig a hole in the garden and terrorise the cat. When James was six Charlie heard a cry of surprise and something shattering, he rushed into the kitchen and saw his wife kneeling on the ground and holding an unbroken plate, beaming at their son. Charlie remembered himself as a younger man outside the Healer's office, handing his handkerchief to Dorea when her tears spilled over; he remembered eleven years or so to the current day when he had exchanged a nod to the very same healer who had told him he would not have children, outside of the maternity ward at Saint Mungo's. James was undoubtedly spoiled by his mother and father, but today he took his first steps away from boyhood. Charlie clenched his cane and nodded, no words being needed between the two.

James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and held his chin high. After a mildly disarming rush of emotion, Charlie squeezed his son's shoulder one last time and watched him scamper onto the train.

Sirius Orion Black stood to the side while Walburga placated a sulking Regulus. Sirius looked at his little brother with slight scorn. What a baby. What was the point of being older if Regulus wanted to come to Hogwarts the same year? He would be hanging off Sirius every minute of the day if they allowed it. They were brothers, to be sure, no matter how much they seemed to resemble either parent - both of whom were as different looking as two people could be. Sirius was all angles under his baby fat, with lucid grey eyes that told people not to lie, because he would know (they did so anyway) and just like his father Sirius made a point of not letting people boss him around. Regulus had the beginnings of softer, more aristocratic features, a smaller nose inherited from their mother, and the very same haughty attitude that possessed her. A cough from behind him made Sirius swivel around. Orion was back from talking to an old colleague of his after meeting them while stowing Sirius' trunk in the luggage car. His father stood tall and regal - as regal as one could look while avoiding the press of the crowd - and raised an eyebrow as his eyes fell upon Walburga who was having a small temper tantrum while trying to get Regulus under control. Sirius shrugged when the questioning look was turned on him.

Orion seemed not to mind and stood patiently for a minute or so, until Sirius chimed in. "They won't stop, you know." His voice was laced with sardonic amusement, ill-befitting of an eleven year old some would say (he would use that tone on them too.) "Unless mother has taken her potion today, and we both know she hasn't." Sirius hadn't wanted his entertainment to end, but it was nearly time to get on the train.

"Walburga." said Orion sharply. The woman jumped and turned to her husband, her arm still clutching Regulus' collar. "Cease this fussing immediately. You are making a spectacle of yourself and an embarrassment of our sons." Walburga narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, probably a cutting remark on the subject of embarrassments, but decided against it for the moment. Her change of heart could be attributed to the appearance of her sister-in-law, Druella. That would mean Narcissa and Andromeda were already on the train. Sirius saw his father's lips press into a thin line when the women began to chatter away about their society meetings and other such gossip. Regulus still fumed somewhere in the background. Orion looked at his wristwatch and crossed his arms.

"See you soon father, mother, Regulus." said Sirius abruptly. They all stopped and scrutinised him. Sirius felt a chill when Walburga turned her eyes on him. He knew that look. One that said; "Do not tarnish the name of Black." He doubted they could fall much further in terms of reputation. Sirius gathered his things, stopping once to speak to his brother.

"I'll be back before you know it. Don't be a sook." Regulus huffed and reluctantly let Sirius punch him in the arm. Sirius was sorry to leave him, as Regulus would be the last of the Black children to start at Hogwarts he would undoubtedly be stuck at home with Kreacher and their mother. The two boys had been closer once, a long time ago, when Sirius believed that love came unconditionally and 'Mudblood' was a common saying. He knew better now.

"Toujours Pur.*" he heard his father say. Sirius kept walking.

Farther away down the platform Lyall Lupin ushered his son through the crowd. Remus John Lupin, a sickly looking boy, hitched up his over sized trousers and shuffled as fast as he could without tripping. They came to a stop close to the rear of the train. Lyall pulled a small hand full of sickles out of the pocket of his worn coat. His son's eyes widened, and Lyall saw he was shaking his head slightly, half in awe and half in fear. They had always tried to make their son comfortable, both he and his wife, but comfort came at a cost and at times he cursed his son for being so bright. The Lupins were not poor per se, but they tended toward being practical about living and only really went out of their way for their son after what happened. Remus saw the strain he put on his parents, and thus had developed a habit of denying himself the luxuries that were usually afforded to childhood. Lyall sometimes had no idea what to do with his boy.

"Take them Remus." he said, trying his best to sound stern. It'd always been Hope who enforced the discipline, but right then she was tending the shop. They'd both agreed to take turns seeing Remus off and picking him up during his Hogwarts years. Lyall had been delighted to be the one to wave goodbye to his son today, until Hope managed to shove the money into his hands and cross her arms triumphantly, knowing that Remus would not take it lying down. Lyall was not about to get into an argument with an eleven year old, not on the boy's first day of school. They had a stare down.

Remus was busy fighting with his sheer astonishment at being offered pocket money, and the desire to stick to his self imposed restrictions. Finally, knowing that his mum would be upset if the two left each other on bad terms, he accepted the coins. It was not the first time his parents had offered, and Remus knew it would not be the last. Every Christmas along with a few lavish gifts, they would each give him five galleons. The first time he had gladly accepted, but on seeing his parents over the weeks following the 25th of December, his mum only cooking with vegetables and his dad keeping the family apothecary open a few hours later than usual, he decided to save the coins in a box on his bedside drawer rather than spend them. The galleon Christmases began after his fifth birthday. Remus had over the years accumulated around seventy galleons worth of unspent spare change, wages from odd jobs he'd done around the neighbourhood and Christmas money and insisted on paying for half of his school equipment even though they had come second hand. He hardly got pocket money though, something that normal boys got for brushing their teeth and making their beds.

Lyall Lupin embraced his son, swallowing the fear that crawled on the edge of his mind when he thought about Remus being alone, all alone for the first time since his very first full moon. He allowed pride for his boy to swell and build up inside him. Giving one last squeeze he stood up at his full height and said goodbye to his son.

Remus Lupin counted down as he stepped onto the train. 29 sleeps until the wolf came back. 29 days to be a regular boy.

Half an hour previously, Tobias Snape slammed his fist down on the kitchen counter. Partially in anger, but mostly because he felt unsteady on his feet - the man was feeling the effects of alcohol on his system once again. It was a sweet relief, to sink oneself into the inviting arms of inebriation. It let him ignore the constant state of confusion he had been in for the last three years. Tobias always believed he had been cheated in life. A headstrong, insolent woman who called herself a wife, and a filthy nothing for a son - he knew they both lived to make his life hell. They had been gathering things up and going on trips for the last few days, taking his hard earned money and spending it all on books and clothes. He'd never wanted some know-it-all nancy-boy for a son, and the first few times he'd caught the little shit reading he made sure to teach it a lesson. Eileen hadn't been happy about that. She never was - not any more. Tobias breathed heavily and narrowed his eyes at the pair; mother and son stood in the hallway, towing a trunk out to the front door.

"And where do you think you're going?" He hadn't meant for it to come out slurred, and quickly tried to amend his mistake by straightening his spine. Eileen, a small mousy woman, flinched when their eyes met but kept herself steady.

"I told you months ago and again this week, Tobias." She intoned, moving in front of the boy. How dare she presume to hide him from her husband? "Severus received his letter this year. I am escorting him to the station, so he can attend Hogwarts." The name of that school made Tobias' stomach turn. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Tobias remembered when he had met her. She never told him about her... tendencies, until they had had to get married. And by then, he'd known their child would be just like her and her kind. Scum, the lot of them, who all looked down on him. But where were they now? The family that had turned their noses up at the sight of him had abandoned her as well. She deserved it, he thought, for always acting as if she were better than him. When he didn't react to her statement, Eileen turned and motioned for their son to keep on going.

"Wait for me outside." Her voice was hushed, pinched. Eileen had been on edge for days. Severus used both of his hands to pull the trunk through the door and out onto the street of Spinners End. He turned around in time to see his mother and father arguing in the front hall, his father raised a hand into the air and at the same time Eileen drew her wand. Tobias fell harmlessly aside and Eileen bent down to mutter a few spells as she pointed her wand at his father's head. Severus stared blankly at the man who had been the object of his nightmares at one point, and the woman who had let everything happen. Things were getting simultaneously better and worse - Eileen had become aware of Tobias' abuse and was making a concerted effort to protect her son, and in response the man became increasingly violent in his retaliation.

Severus felt for his wand, hidden safely in his robes. One day he wouldn't need her any more. He wouldn't need anyone.

The Hogwarts Express gave one final shrill toot as its wheels began to shift. Petunia Evans made a face, sniffing in contempt. Her mother touched her elbow and they turned to go. She caught sight of a thin woman, with an expression on her face that told of more stress than she could handle. It was that boy's mother. The one who dressed like he lived on the street, and smelled like it too. Petunia felt utter disgust at everything around her. All the laughing younger children, their mothers and fathers carrying them on their shoulders, promising ice cream despite the September chill. It all made her sick. She watched as a man pulled a stick out of his coat, mumbling as he pointed it at his scarf. Somewhere, far away in the back of Petunia's mind there was a minuscule flicker of envy.

She had seen Lily get one of those. Had been there when her sister first waved one in that freak shop where they were sold. The third time Lily had waved one their father had exclaimed in surprise and delight when sparks flew out the end. They'd ended up buying it a minute later, and Lily had offered it to Petunia for her to hold. Petunia swallowed the sudden flash of excitement and declared she didn't care to hold it. Later on Petunia regretted saying so as she watched her father examine the thing delicately, tapping here and there - and once holding it backwards. She'd wanted to shout at him for doing it wrong, to snatch it off his clumsy hands and use it properly; wave it, to see if it would make sparks for her too. She hadn't. Wands and cauldrons and for heaven's sake owls - they were all so abnormal; so disgusting. She didn't understand what her parents saw in it all that had them so fascinated with her sister. Being normal was proper. Being normal was right. Petunia was always right.

She felt her face heat up when she remembered that awful boy calling her a muggle. As if it were some heinous slur. As if she were the freak. Petunia remembered when she and Lily had played together every day, before that boy had come along and started telling her things. Things like how she was a witch, how Petunia was just a muggle, and how nobody needed muggles - it had all started with him. Petunia had had enough.

A small part of her, tucked away from prying eyes, felt hurt at all of the attention Lily had been getting. It felt bitter about how easily Lily had given in and gone along with all of that magic nonsense, how easily she had been left alone. All alone now, without even Mum or Dad to give her what she wanted. It wasn't hard; Lily was enough - she'd always been enough. But now Lily was gone. Off to a place Petunia couldn't go, to meet people and learn things Petunia would never know. The car engine sprung to life, pulling her out of her thoughts. Petunia promptly squashed that part of her, shoving it back into the dark place it had come from, and closed her eyes as the streets of London passed by - unable to get the image of the red engine out of her mind.

Notes:

Just general opinions and explanations I have if you are interested.

On Peter Pettigrew; They were friends for a reason. All of them. That includes Peter. He has his own bravery, I have always believed, (or else why would he be put into Gryffindor?) and maybe, just maybe, that is why he fell so far. Every story that has him as a bumbling, needy, clingy, 1-dimensional idiot that no one likes I tend to take with a grain of salt. His betrayal was felt because they were friends. I don't plan to write from his perspective much, so all his haters can rest assured.

On Severus Snape; He was never evil. Misguided, broken, disillusioned maybe - but not evil. It is an insult to Lily to even consider it. She wasn't blind. She knew he wasn't a good person, but she saw something in him that people refused to see. His early life, as described by Rowling, is reminiscent of Harry's own experiences. The hand-me-down clothes that were too big for him, living a lonely existence with few friends until Lily came along; I never understood the logic of Snape's need to vindicate himself through Harry, given that they had suffered similar childhoods. Though logic really had nothing to do with it. Both were intelligent boys, who enjoyed high marks for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Though they differed in that his one redeeming quality in the later years is the absolute purity of his love for Lily.

On James Potter; A child, for a while, a bully, a friend and a brother. He does a lot of growing up inside Hogwarts. Even spoiled brats can change with the right influence. I must warn that he is far from my favourite character, and as such will not so much be getting the complete hero-treatment he is used to.

On Lily Evans; She has always been a bit of a mystery to me. I have written her as her own person, with thoughts, flaws, and feelings, and not just as the eventual conquest of James potter.

On Sirius Black; The suave ladies man who rebelled against his family. I think it was more than the simple matter of clashing values - he was never all that happy there, and I feel that he may have been pushed into growing up a bit faster than his peers. In theory this is were his childish and rebellious attitude comes from; stemming from the need to cling to his childhood and perhaps unwilling to admit the flaws in his own character.

On Remus Lupin; Remus, as some of you might find as you read this, is one of my favourite characters. I will admit to playing favourites as I wrote this. Contrary to popular belief, he was not a constantly awkward teen who was simply glad to have been there. He had as much reason to be there as the rest of the Marauders and his own part to play in events.

On names, ages, dates and events; I will be sticking with canonical names, ages, etc. as much as possible. I did the research and the maths - some of it works out and some of it doesn't, so I will be adjusting slightly. These adjustments include:

The age of Andromeda Tonks (n. Black). Sources say she was born between 1951 and 1955, some sources confirm it to be 1953 - here she will be born in 1954. It's plausible, and it puts her in seventh year when the Marauders start at Hogwarts, the same age as Lucius Malfoy (17 going on 18).

The names of James Potter's parents. The topic has been food for thought. Somewhere on the Black family tree one Dorea Black marries a Charlus Potter, they had only one son who remains unnamed. It is possible these are his parents. Though certain things contradict this theory. It is mentioned in the Philosopher's Stone that Harry had no living relatives other than the Dursleys, if this is so then how could Charlus and Dorea be James' parents? That would mean that Harry is related to many of the living Blacks, the Weasleys and distantly the Malfoys. All the pure-blood families are related technically, so therefore it must follow that Harry has plenty of living relatives to go to rather than the Dursleys. But between canonical and believable I prefer believable (since Rowling herself will admit to disparities between her explanations and the combined forces of mathematics and logic), so I'm going to have it so that Charlus and Dorea are in fact James' parents, and assume that the Weasleys had too many children to take care of already and were not financially stable, the Malfoys were on the wrong side of the war and could not be trusted with Harry, and all the Blacks including Harry's Godfather were either dead or in Azkaban (I realise that Andromeda Tonks does count as a Black and would be related to Harry but let's just forget that and let me write my damn story.)

The First Blood War. I'm choosing to call the Wizarding War a blood war, because that's what it really is. That is what drives the instigators, the ones who decided that what family someone was born into, that the purity of their blood, determined a person's worth. That, and I got the idea off another fic (wink wink).

Remus Lupin's parents. Sources say their names were Lyall and Hope Lupin. Hope died sometime during the height of the first war, and not much is said about Lyall. It astounds me sometimes that countless writers have complied with fanon and given him a faceless mother and a father named John, even though the information is easily accessible with a quick wiki search. There is nothing wrong with fanon per se, but what ticks me off is that they label it "SUPER CANONICAL SO PLX READ NNNOW". (ha.)

Canonical events revealed in the last few books. They will be included, with possible discrepancies, along with a detailed (though unnecessary) explanation of my reasons for writing things any particular way.

*Toujours Pur: The Black family motto.

*Charlus: James' middle name, courtesy of moi.