A/N: Hello everyone who reads this. As you can see yourself I decided to give another try to a Marauders Era fanfiction. This time, though, it is not a particular ship I am focusing on, but on the entire generation.

Now, there is also something else I would like to clear up: many of the characters are canon, but there is few we know of them (e.g. Dorcas Meadowes, Caradoc Dearborn, Regulus Black, Marlene McKinnon; James and Lily count as such characters as well in some cases.), and therefore I will develop their characters as I imagine them to be. If their character doesn't match your expectations, then I am deeply sorry, but I will not change anything about the plot or personages.

If there are some things I changed, like dates of deaths, places etc., I will inform you as such. If, however, I make a mistake of any kind, I don't mind you informing me of it, only don't get too insistent.

(You should also note that I don't usually write such longs notes.) I don't claim to update fast, but I do hope the waiting will be worth it.

Disclaimer: Everything goes to Queen Rowling; I own nothing.

Don't forget that I don't bite – at all – and that I enjoy reviews as much as I enjoy cinnamon ice cream, and trust me, I love cinnamon ice cream. Therefore, if you are so kind, and you have thoughts and feelings about this fic, do fill me with some feedback.

Additional Note: A big Happy Birthday to my best friend Evie. I hope you have a nice one. This entire fic is a present to you and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

*Chapter 1*

1.

The weather was different in this country. It was nothing like the torrid summer days in Egypt. Here it rained constantly and people were wearing funny clothes, she observed. Everything was new about this country, even the trees and the smell floating around the thin air. The sky had a different colour, a bright, cold blue. 'Cold' was the perfect word to describe this unknown country.

Nero had asked for her help and she obeyed at once. Salacia was grateful for all he did for her: how he saved her from the orphanage, how he'd been kind to her when everyone else ignored her; she couldn't have possibly refused.

And he brought her with him to England. He had a plan; she didn't know what it consisted of, but she was eager to help him. She already knew he wasn't her real father. Salacia never looked up to him as to a father, she always considered him so much more. A Master. Someone she had to listen to, someone powerful, who deserved one's entire attention.

"Come now, child", he told her and it made her start. He didn't belong in the British landscape either. His long, brown cloak was brushing the ground as he walked down the path.

She raptly followed his steps.

"You remember what I told you, kid?"

"If anyone asks, I am your daughter. If they don't ask, I'm still your daughter."

"Very good." His tone was relaxed, but his eyes were scrutinizing the surroundings. "Now we are here because …"

"Because mother died of a terrible illness and because we wanted to forget, we moved to Britain, so as to start a new life."

"Good. We will open our shop before school starts, understood? And you will work on the preparation of Potions, just as I taught you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir", this she said with determination.

"And you will never talk to any of the Hogwarts' students, unless I tell you so."

"Of course", Salacia agreed, nodding.

"Good. That's our new house."

He pointed in the direction of a small building. There was a closed shop downstairs and upstairs, as she presumed, was their new home. She had never had a stable home and for a second she wondered what it was actually like.

"Do you promise to follow my lead, girl?"

She raised her dark eyes at him.

"I promise."

There was nothing she could find shelter in when her brother and father were fighting. The sound of their shrill voices made her hackles rise. She knew the reason of their fight, yet there was nothing she could do to stop them. Bollocks, she thought, there is always something one can do to avoid disputes. The problem was they would never let her help.

Angela Meadowes, Dorcas' beloved mother, had fallen sick at the beginning of spring. They kept it all a secret from her and when she came home for summer holidays she had to face the ugly truth. The only remedy that kept her alive was a very expensive potion. A potion they couldn't afford anymore. Her mother needed a new bottle of Potion every week and they were currently poverty-stricken.

Someone once said that "nothing kills the spirit like poverty."

For a long time, Dorcas refused to believe such nonsense, but now, that she had to feel the terror of poverty on her own skin, she knew exactly what those words truthfully meant.

Once their vault was emptied of any knut left, the quarrelling started.

Matheus, her brother, insisted that they couldn't go on like this forever. Her father, driven mad by his love for his wife, would never accept to see her die. And then there was Dorcas, split in two. She knew her brother was right, and if conscious, her mother would disagree with what her father was about, but she empathised with him too. He loved her and seeing someone you love die, knowing that you could've helped, was a dreadful feeling.

She crawled into a ball and closed her eyes. She refused to hear them fight any longer. But their piercing voices were reverberating through the walls of her room. She couldn't avoid them. Not anymore. Tears were streaming down her face and she wanted to run away, go to Lily's and have a great time with her friend, forget all about her family, but she couldn't.

What would Lily do?

"She would try and help, that's what she'd do", Dorcas whispered to herself.

Then that's what you should do. Do the right thing, the voice in her head replied.

"But the problem is … I don't know what the right thing is. I know what would be noble. Noble would be if I would find myself somewhere to work and I would send the money home. But who would hire a sixteen year old? And how much could I even earn?"

Enough to keep them away from starving.

The Gryffindor flung her eyes open. Maybe it wasn't the right thing, but if that was going to stop them from fighting, then it seemed enough right to her. There had to be a place in Hogsmeade where she could engage in some work; she was, after all, a smart and hard-working young woman.

Sirius sat by the small pond near the Potter manor, left alone to his thoughts. His contemplations were still meditating on the night he'd run away from home – if one could only call 12 Grimmauld Place a home. But then again, he had considered that building his home for over sixteen years. And when he had daydreamt of his escape out of the old Black House, he pictured it being a victorious moment; it was nothing like that.

He fled sometime at midnight, like a convict out of a prison. He left in the silence of the night and found refuge at the Potter manor, where he'd been most welcomed.

The entire pure-blooded community hated him by then, him being a blood traitor by turning his back at the purification of blood and his own family. But he didn't care about that. His concerns were purely directed towards the one person in 12 Grimmauld Place that could still be saved from his family's brainwashing.

Regulus, just like his brother, was a stubborn person, yet much more loyal to his family than Sirius. Never had they been close, but what neither of them believed was that he was really familiar with his brother and if there was something he was sure of, it was that Reg wasn't yet lost. He could still be saved and moved on to the right side.

At the thought, Sirius let an expressive, barking-like laugh escape his lips.

"You alright, mate?"

"Prongs. Didn't hear you come."

"Well you seemed lost in thoughts. Tell me, is maturity striking you?"

"James", Sirius imitated Mrs Potter's affectionate voice, "I think you take me for Remus. I refuse to become a mature person. Maturing is boring," he declared decidedly.

James grinned, but pressed the matter nonetheless.

"What were you thinking of so deeply, then, if not matters of life and death?"

Sirius frowned. He trusted his friend a great deal; they were like brothers. And yet, he came to the decision of not telling James what his thoughts on Regulus were.

"I reckon I'd look brilliant in a beard", he said instead.

"A beard?", James repeated, not being able to grasp the idea.

"Well a beard is that thing –"

"Don't pretend to be clever, Padfoot", he advised. "Why would you want a beard?"

"Girls like beards", Sirius affirmed with the air of a know-it-all.

He knew he could save Regulus from becoming a Death Eater. He had to.

And whatever James was saying, this didn't mean he was maturing, was he?

But for now, he had to think of a way to befriend his brother.

It wasn't just a wish, it was a necessity, an obligation he had; it was a promise he'd made ten years prior.

He knocked three times on the door, before his father responded.

"James."

Opening the door, "Mom said you wanted to talk to me."

"Yes", Mr Potter said.

James sat down on the sofa, so as to face his father. He had no idea what this would be about, but he didn't much struggle to find out. His father had always offered him a lot of liberty and he had never been punished for anything, however major his faults were.

"Listen, James, you're sixteen now."

Prongs questioningly raised his eyebrows. When his father said nothing more, he said:

"I can't see where you're pointing at, dad."

The older man sighed, taking his glasses off.

"There will come a time when you'll have to act like a grown-up, James. And war is coming."

"One week ago you said there wouldn't be a war."

"It has already started, boy. I understand you're young and I know what you might think, that I am vile and I try to stop you from living your youth years, but I'm not. I'm just trying to make you see the world as it is. Like I said, there will come a time when you'll have to act maturely, when pranks and other sorts of jokes will be nothing but childish behaviours, and that time is approaching, James."

James didn't disagree.

"One day you will have a family of your own, and a wife and maybe a son and you'll have to act mature for them, to take the right decisions, and you have to be prepared for that moment."

Again, James remained silent, not looking at his father.

"I don't want you to change into somebody else, James. Dark times lie ahead and if you'll have to face them, I want you ready."

The boy stared at his father for a brief second, until his father teased:

"Don't look at me like that, son. Say something."

James folded his eyebrows into a furrow as he tried to think of something worth voicing.

"You know I'm not going to have a family of my own very soon, right?"

"Well of course you won't; you first need to introduce us to your girlfriend."

"Too bad I don't have one, then", James laughed.

"What about the redhead you used to fancy?"

At this question, James' smile faded away a little. "Lily … she doesn't like me."

"Why so?"

"She says I'm an 'immature git.'"

"Well …", Mr Potter pointed out, ironically. "And what are you going to do about it?"

"Give up, I s'pose. I can't wait all my life for her to get to like me."

"Give up?", the man questioned surprised by his son's answer. "Oh, no. You're a Potter, James. We do not give up."

"But everything I tried, failed."

"So? You're going to give up after every failure in your life? No. You're supposed to learn from your failures. Because failing is good, failing is gaining knowledge of life. What you have to do is to try again, to fail again, but to fail better every time."

"I asked her out like a billion of times, dad. She just keeps throwing insults at me."

"Let me get this straight. You were a complete angel, helping everyone out, being kind to all of your class mates, and you came to like this girl, so you asked her out and she began to offense you?"

"No, no, it wasn't like-"

"So you weren't exactly innocent, were you?

"I've never said such a thing. It's just … you always said I shouldn't change just because other people want me to."

"But she never asked of you to change. She simply pointed out some truths."

At this, the young man had no response, so yet again he found himself remaining silent.

"I know it sounds frightening, but maturation is not so bad. It's like an adventure. And eventually we all get to live it."

James nodded. He didn't know what to say.

"Come on, now, cheer up a bit. Go back to Quidditch. I reckon Sirius is waiting for you", the older man said, a smile brightening his features. "But do give some further thought to what I told you, son."

Again, James nodded and left the room in awkward silence. He had already thought of it; he'd been thinking of it since the beginning of summer. It was time to grow up.

The first time he'd met the Dark Lord, he'd been frightened to say the least. The second time, he was already given a mission. After that third meeting, he had lost track of them.

Waiting for his Master to come, he tried to remember each of the encounters, but his memories were a sea of vague reminiscences. The man knew this time he will be empowered with an admirable task. He was already imagining himself being the Dark Lord's right hand.

"Icarus." Voldemort's sheer voice resounded through the walls of the small house, waking him up from his train of thoughts. The man named Icarus raised his eyes just in time to see his Lord stepping in the room.

"My Lord." He knelt in admiration, but was soon interrupted by the new arrival's voice.

"Spare me of your sweet nothings."

Icarus nodded and waited for his master to speak again.

"You will be a teacher at Hogwarts. And you will train those who choose the right side, to become Death Eaters. By the end of the year, I want you to bring me good news, Icarus. If you don't, I'm going to be very", Tom Riddle went on, his voice cold as ice, but his tone barely audible, "very disappointed. You don't want your Lord to be disappointed, do you?"

His last question made the other shudder with fright.

"No, Master", he consented.

"Good. You will leave on the first of September, along with the students. You will have to play a good role, you will get along with all your students and you will also stay near Dumbledore. I need to know what he is planning. Dumbledore is planning something against me."

"What will I teach, my Lord?", he raised his eyes, but dared not look at the Dark Lord.

"Defence Against The Dark Arts. If you fail, Icarus, I shall remind you that your sister will have to suffer and so will you. Do not disappoint me."

"No, my Lord."

"Vow, Icarus; do as I say and you will be rewarded. You will get what you most desire for."

The man's watery eyes widened in surprise, as he bent down once again.

"I promise, my Lord, I swear."

Tom Riddle's lips curled up in what seemed to be the shadow of a smile.

2.

"Has anyone seen the cat?" a voice echoed through the girls' dormitory.

"I can't find my skirt!" another one yelled.

"Will you two be quiet for one second? I need to finish my essay. I need to get down to this essay before breakfast."

"I need my skirt", the girl whined once more.

"Wake up!" addressed the fair-haired Marlene McKinnon, yanking the bedclothes off Dorcas Meadowes' bed.

"And you think anyone could possibly be able to sleep in this hullabaloo? It's not as if you would all be like birds chirping smoothly on a musky September morning." the girl named Dorcasreplied reluctantly, throwing a pillow at one of the girls.

"No need to be so gleeful, Meadowes."

"Where is that cat?" Kimmers shouted. "Atticus!"

"It's a cat, not a dog, idiot. If you call after him, he won't come", said Mary MacDonald, whilst digging under a mountain of rumpled clothes. "Has anyone seen my skirt?" she asked for the third time that morning. "Lily! We're quailed! Would you leave off your precious lecture for a moment and help us out?"

Lily Evans, the red-haired Gryffindor prefect, and, as it gave the impression, the only one to be relaxed of the whole group, didn't even look up from her volume as she spoke: "The skirt is under your bed. And as for the cat, I reckon it's hiding under Mary's bed too; an action which I can't condemn him for; you lot are really alarming me sometimes – especially early in the mornings."

"Lovely."

"Oh, we can't appear to be all that bad," Marlene laughed.

"My cat!" The petite brunette, whose name was Kimmers, darted at the bed, throwing her arms around something that scarcely looked like a feline, but more like a huge ball of mousy fur.

"It's not your cat only, Kim. It's our cat too." Dorcas had a serious look upon her pale face as she spoke. "And don't even get started with the whole 'Kimmers is the one who came across the cat in Hogsmeade last year' because, despite the fact that she has really done so, who is the one who fed Atticus every day? Who ensured he had a warm comfortable pillow to sleep on? Who unsnarled his fur every time he needed?"

"Well I did, "Lily replied, honesty resounding in her nice mellow voice. Atticus, who was now seated on Kimmers' cosy bed, meowed in approval.

"Fair enough. See, Kim? It's our cat too."

The girl simply shrugged and, smiling, resumed her dull occupation of shoving her textbooks into her schoolbag.

"C'mon, now, Doe, everyone here knows you dislike cats about as much as Marlene hates Black's beard", Mary's thrilling cackle resonated from within the bathroom.

"Someone needs to cut that boy's moustache in his sleep. I'd go on a date with the person who would have the guts to do it."

"I was going to accept the challenge, but then I decided to leave this honour to some noble bloke instead," Alice Smyth, who proudly finished her homework, noticed.

"That is not true", Dorcas began, changing the topic back to its initial origin. "I love cats-", she continued, but was soon interrupted by a collective guffaw of her room mates. "But it is really true! I love cats – from afar."

"Well, I bet Atticus loves you from afar too."

"Who named him 'Atticus' anyway?"

"Lily did," both Marlene and Mary responded automatically.

"Is there something you didn't do for this cat?"

"We'd better leave for breakfast now, until Republic of Rwanda returns. Or would you like to see her face so early in the morning?"

"You're being mean, Dorcas", Lily said, yet she was the first one to leave the dormitory, followed closely by Kimmers, who bid her cat a goodbye and ran after her friend, a joyous smile brightening her features.

Rwanda Peers was a feeble-minded girl who claimed to have been christened under the name of 'Rwanda', even though no one believed a parent would name their child after a Republic in Africa. She had a deep voice and pale straight hair that would cascade down her back to her waist. Most of the students knew her for her reputation of being a slow-witted tart. She would boast around about all her feelings and wouldn't give a damn on what people thought of her; she enjoyed a good gossip, but even so, people would still continue to like her – well, some of the people.

"I wouldn't worry about meeting Rwanda anywhere near the Great Hall; you know she's on that special diet where she eats nothing, she just stares at food and when she decides her appetite is gone, she just leaves the table."

"That is idiotic, even coming from Rwanda", Mary said in an undertone.

"But I don't understand."

"What's the matter, Kim?" Lily, like the good friend she was, asked.

"How can you not eat?"

"You should really ignore Rwanda's bird-brained ideas." Dorcas stated with a dramatic rolling of her grey eyes.

"I'm not listening to what she says - she's a bit off her trolley anyway - I was just trying to comprehend how one could sit at a table, stare at all that deliciously appetizing food and … not eat. She should have some respect for food, that's what I think."

The lot of them gave a cheerful laugh. Their friend was known around the place for her craze – although it was more of a passion – for food. There was only one person who would share her obsession, but more on that subject, later.

The Marauders were up unusually early on that morning. Remus Lupin, the other Gryffindor prefect, was engaged in what seemed a remarkable discussion with the Quidditch Captain, James Potter. Sirius Black was presumably storytelling one of his fascinating adventures – although no one was really listening – while the last member of the group, Peter Pettigrew, stirred for such a long time in his bowl that the nourishment no longer looked edible, but more like a sickening gruel.

"Moony, will you hand me your schedule?" Sirius inquired, after he was done with his story.

"Why would I? You have one of your own, Sirius."

"Correction, my friend. I used to have one, I don't anymore."

Remus's eyes were now fixated on his mate.

"Should I bother to ask what vile torture the poor sheet of paper went through?"

"I made a paperdragon out of it during Divination", Padfoot answered, yawning, obviously bored by the discussion.

"Yeah, why are you still taking that class anyway?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand", Sirius said, acting as if insulted, "you never possessed the Sight."

Both James and Remus shook their heads in disapproval, while Peter was slowly drowning in a mere slumber, head on the table.

"It's scary to know there are people who still practice ovomancy", Sirius went on, more like talking to himself than to the others, "Ovomancy is a method of divination using eggs, but I guess you geniuses already knew that."

"It's scary to know you actually pay attention in that class."

"Why are you staring at me like that, Moony?"

Remus, who'd been watching Sirius closely for what were five minutes, finally looked back down at his food. "I'm trying to understand whether you are a fool or just pretend to be one."

"I'm not going to honor you with an answer. But in the meantime, you could give me your schedule."

"Why don't you get James'?", Remus questioned, biting out of his toast.

"Because I already borrowed his yesterday."

"You didn't borrow my schedule. You stole it without even asking."

"Well that's what stealing is. Imagine if every thief would ask for permission before stealing. Really Prongs, you're my mate and all that, but I sometimes question the existence of your intelligence."

"I think that what James actually meant Sirius, is that you usually announce when you are to steal something; this time you didn't."

With a roll of his eyes, Sirius turned around to face a sleeping Peter.

"Wormtail, wake up! Wake up. You can have my croissant if you like", Sirius meant to lure him, fluttering a croissant near his nose.

"Food?", Peter raised his head, looking still as if he hadn't slept in ages.

"Yes, food, but if you want food, you have to give me your schedule."

"I can't Sir", he yawned, "-ius, remember? You burnt mine last night, because you were bored. Can I have that now?"

Sirius pushed the plate with the croissants away, and Peter served himself, a smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

"So, Moony, you're my last rescue."

"We have Defense next."

"See? It wasn't so hard. Oh, James, don't look, your ginger queen just entered the hall."

James almost mechanically turned his head around to watch Lily and her friends walk to the Gryffindor table.

"I said don't look."

"You're an idiot, Padfoot", Prongs laughed.

"So when are you going to ask her out?", the Gryffindor questioned without a hesitation.

"I'm not going to ask her out."

Peter, who was sipping on his pumpkin juice, listened to the conversation with enormous interest.

"Why not?"

"I think she has been most clear last year when she told me she'd rather date the Giant Squid, don't you think?"

Sirius sighed.

"It's not your fault mate", he took a deep breath before he went on, "that you don't have the appeal of a squid." Sirius friendly tapped his friend's shoulder and then went back to eating, as if nothing happened. James, however, was still looking at Lily.

"I'm going out-", he stopped in midsentence as he caught glimpse of a second year staring at him with curiosity reflected in his small pig-eyes, "to catch some butterflies."

"I wanna catch butterflies too", a still sleepy Peter announced.

The three of the Marauders started laughing, and it took a while until they calmed themselves down.

"Peter, you don't smoke", Remus informed him, with a grin.

"Oh, is that what cool people call it now? 'Catch butterflies'?"

The laughter resumed and it ceased to stop only after James had left the Great Hall.

"My Sight tells me Lily and James are going to get married one day. Wanna bet, Remus?"

"I'm not betting anything."

"You're afraid you're going to lose."

"He knows he's going to lose. Everyone one knows that", Peter admitted.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Initially, it was much longer, but I decided to trim it in two parts. Let me know what you think.

- R.