Okay, so here's my new fic, a series of drabbles and one shots based on and around the lives of the Marauders. Some will be in first person, some in third, it'll go wherever the mood takes me. So first, is about my favourite marauder, James. Read and review, if you wish. Molly :)
1. Chaser
CRASH!
The little boy grinned as he looked down at the fallen flowerpot. It had been knocked to the ground by a pebble he had thrown. He was hovering on a small broom about four feet off the ground, his hazel eyes wide behind his circular framed glasses.
A slender woman with dark red hair came running out of the house. "James! Are you alright?" she cried, then after taking in the scene before her, "Oh, not my agapanthuses, again!"
"Sorry, Mum," said James, with no hint of an apology as he jumped of his broom and ran to his mother, "but I scored!"
Her anger turned instantly to pride, "You did? That's fantastic, James! Your first goal, at four years old! Were you playing Quidditch? A chaser, this time?"
He nodded, "It's much easier than being a beater," he said knowledgably.
"Yes, but how about a seeker, love? Have you tried that?"
He nodded again. "With dad. He put a spell on pebbles to fly around the garden, but it just bored me, because I could never see them, and I want action!" he gabbled.
"Of course you do, sweet. And a keeper? You've already tried that, haven't you?"
"Dad got it past me every time."
"Why weren't you playing with Dad now?"
"He was busy, he said he'd play later, but I didn't want to wait, so I thought I'd have a go on my own, and I did it! I did it!"
"I know, love. I'll go and tell Daddy right now!"
She beamed proudly for a moment at her son, before ruffling his already messy hair and rushing off, back into the house.
James went to retrieve his broomstick, and flopped down on the grass. Finally, he had found something in Quidditch that he was good at. Finally, he could live up to his Dad's reputation. From that moment on, James Potter knew that he was made to be a chaser.