Summary: Travel back to where it all started: the 1970s, where new beginnings and awakenings are slowly coming into the light. At Hogwarts, the Marauders have just met each other and begun their ultimate legacy, while Lily Evans and Alice Kennicott are wondering if their friendship is the stuff of legend as well. But the setting behind such bright days is darkening with the rise of the use of dark magic and abundance of dark creatures and wizards, all whispering of a leader whom no one seems to know. The threads that tightly hold the magical world together - the power of blood lineage, the roles of magical creatures, and friendship - will be tested in this first part of a five fanfiction series.

This story begins the saga of James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Lily Evans, Alice Kennicott (the future Alice Longbottom), and an OC, Riona Dyrdra during and after Hogwarts, including other cannon characters whom we don't know much about in the HP world. It will be written from all of their viewpoints, both in third perspective and first perspective. I'll make it easy to figure out which is which.

Also, this story will be fairly short, as the following stories in the series will be a bit more complex. This first fanfic encompasses the characters' first and second years…and well, I'll let the prologue fill you in with the rest. As always, comments are very much appreciated.

Rated for mild language and violence.

Now and Then

Copyright by Liliana R., August 28, 2005.

Prologue

A scurry of quill scratching upon empty parchment was the only sound heard in the silent, almost egg-shaped office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Besides the crystal-shaped twinkling of the stars set across the velvet night sky behind him, only a large, fat candle lit the small room for the Headmaster's hand, its flame dancing upon the set of silver hair and wizened yet energetic face. However, this night was different than the usual nights the Headmaster had stayed up to finish some last minute work: tonight, instead of the easy concentration on his face, the Headmaster wore a mask that, before his peers, he would certainly wear well, but in the loneliness of his office and thoughts was slowly slipping away to reveal a straining anxiety. The hard scratching of the quill was almost bearing a whole into the parchment, until a faint click, click upon the expansive windowpane behind him caused the Headmaster to instantly drop his quill, his lanky, towering shoulders tensing as though expecting the worst.

Yet when he saw a gray owl blinking expectantly at him from his window, the Headmaster gave a relieved sigh that he couldn't manage to hold back and stood up to open the window, taking the small, brown package which the owl held out to him on his right leg. Giving a sharp hoot of urgency, the owl prodded at the package, as though he were eager for the Headmaster to open it, and then took flight, spreading his long, gray wings against the dark sky and sped off, enveloped into the silent night. Taking the note tied to the package and opening it, the Headmaster's startlingly bright blue eyes narrowed into a shrewd gaze.

To Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Headmaster's office.

I have come to believe that my ownership of these books isn't entirely mine to keep anymore. There is someone who needs these much more than I have ever done, and I think it's time for him to receive it. I hope they will serve Harry well, and aid you in any of your attempts to end this second war. Although I may not take part in your quest for my own reasons, know that I am supporting you in everything that you choose to do, Dumbledore, and only ask that you respect the wishes of the authors in these books. They still remain very dear to me, despite everything that has happened.

R. D.

P.S. I have included that which I think may seem appropriate for Harry to know.

Dumbledore peered at five very slim, leather bound journals, and reached for his wand. Muttering under his breath, Dumbledore touched his wand upon each of the books several times, but nothing happened. At this, his steady suspicious gaze morphed into one of skepticism and, most of all, a spread of curiosity that has been accustomed to tread the Headmaster's wrinkled but lively face.

He sat down upon his winged armchair and examined the first journal, marked with the words: "Years 1 and 2," above the initials J. F. P. embossed in a twirling, golden script on the front cover. Just below these initials were the ones S.B. (this one with its middle initial savagely scratched out), followed by R.J.L, L. E. E., P.G.P., A.M.K.,. and finally, the initials of the letter's writer: R.D. The four other journals were also the same, each having the same initials set upon the deep brown leather coverings, yet they were each marked with different titles: the second journal was "Years 3 and 4," but the last three were each dedicated to one year, finally ending in "Year 7" – this one's leather binding quite worn, its parchment very yellowed.

"Quite curious, quite curious indeed," Dumbledore frowned, fixing his half-moon shaped spectacles squarely upon his rather long nose. "But…I believe I know what these may contain…they are, after all, magical journals…and, knowing who wrote them, they may very well be extremely useful…"

And with that, Dumbledore stretched a long finger and flipped open the cover of the one journal marked with "Years 1 and 2," and began to read in the soft candlelight.

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