Story about how the marauders met and their lives through Hogwarts. L/J, R/S

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When Harrison and Emily Potter moved into the old stone cottage in Broadmoor Buckle with their only son, eleven-year-old James, they realized almost immediately that they had a scant number of neighbors. With Harrison and Emily both past seventy, they felt this was quite fine, and even prefered the solitude. James, quite bright even without any formal wizarding training, had a knack for making trouble with other children, usually along the lines of playing games like "Jump Off The Highest Wall," or "Catch The Doxy." James was about to go off to school at Hogwarts for his first year, and his parents had bought his school books just before the move, to keep him occupied while things "settled down." No one had mentioned any children in the immediate area, so the Potters supposed their Jamesy would just entertain himself.

When James wasn't helping unpack, he was usually found in his new room on the upper floor, curled up with "A Beginner's Guide To Transfiguration," one of his new school books. He stayed busy helping his parents, reciting charms they'd taught him, and singing odd little songs and telling stories he'd made up. His imagination was extremely active, so much so that he had exhausted the patience of three private tutors during his primary schooling.

But James never was a bookworm, and there was a rather large outdoors beckoning him, so a few days after the move was complete, he politely announced at the breakfast table that he was going to meet some of the neighbors and see if there were any children his age nearby. He took a bookbag full of sandwiches and soda water for lunch, and a small sack of Floo powder with him at his mother's request, in case he should manage to be delayed and be late for dinner. James was a willowy boy, with hazel eyes that shifted to a brownish-green when he was upset, and unruly black hair that stuck in every direction at once. He didn't have glasses, unlike his parents; his eyesight was excellent. He thought about going back to the house for his broomstick – an old Tinderblast his father had when he was younger. A vintage model, from 1940, it was older than James by two decades; though it was trustworthy, it had a tendency to lose its speed and steadiness above an altitude of about fifteen feet, making it an excellent learning broom for beginners. James didn't consider himself a beginner anymore.

He couldn't wait to get his own broom. He actually had the money for a Nimbus 1001, the professional standard of the day. He had planned everything out on how he would get it: He had his Gringott's key handy, in his pack at the moment, and his grandfather's Invisibility Cloak. "Father Potter" had given it to James when he turned ten, with strict instructions never to mention it to Harrison, claiming that Harrison was too much of a good egg for it, and to properly use one, you had to have a bit of mischief in you. James prized it over any other possession he had, though a new Nimbus racing broom would rank a close runner-up.

James had it all planned out. He'd go to Diagon Alley, manage to slip away from any chaperones he might have, and get the money out of his Gringotts vault. He'd done it last time when he got his schoolbooks, convincing his mother and father that he was old enough to access his account on his own. He knew exactly how much it would cost – forty-five galleons and six knuts – and he planned to get a little extra out for some ice cream and perhaps some of the more interesting texts he found at Flourish and Blotts. Once he got the broom from Quality Quidditch Supplies, it was only a few yards to the post office, where he'd have Express Owl Delivery take it to his house by next morning. He'd cover the broom with the Invisibility Cloak if anyone he knew happened to be around in Diagon Alley, so no one would see it and tip off his parents. He had every intention of practicing on the broom whenever he could, though first years couldn't have their own brooms at Hogwarts. Once it was delivered at his home, he'd hide it in a trunk or his closet, possibly covered with the cloak. Everything was planned out; James just needed a way to get to Diagon Alley for half an hour to put the plan in motion.

While James' mind wandered to broomsticks and soaring through the clouds, his feet wandered south, across the field his bedroom faced. The air was just hot enough to make him want to take off his t-shirt, so he sat down to stuff it in his bag, when he heard something scuffling through the tall grass. He stood up and looked around, spotting a lion tail and spotted fur. A kneazle, he thought. Wonder where it's going. So he followed it as it traveled northeast. He stopped when he saw two houses, one in front of the other, a bit futher north. The nearer one was made of stone, like the one he now resided in; the further had white wooden shingles on the sides above a stone foundation, and was a bit smaller than the first. Both houses were single story homes, the stone one being a bit taller, with more windows. The wooden house looked empty, but the stone house had a bit of smoke rising through the chimney, and the distinct smell of apple cobbler wafting his way in the breeze. The kneazle forgotten, James made his way over to the stone house.

When he raised his hand to knock on the door, he was surprised to see it open for him. The boy on the other side who opened the door was much more surprised, however. He had light brown hair, deep brown eyes, and very heavy shadows under his eyes. He looked pale and thin, and his clothes seemed to hang off of him. The boy looked very much like he hadn't been eating very well, and he was a couple inches shorter than James, but he was dressed nearly the same, save the fact that the boy on the inside was wearing a shirt. The clothes were standard clothing for a boy his age, though they looked a bit shabby, with some worn spots.

"Sorry, didn't expect to see you there," said the boy nervously. The surprise of nearly running into James seemed to have rattled him. He shifted his eyes to the floor nervously.

"No problem. I'm James Potter, live further down in the buckle. D'you live here?"

"Ummmm, yeah. I'm Remus. Lupin. Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you."

"So… where were you going?"

"My toy winged horse flew out my window – I was going to get it back."

"Oh. Well, go ahead then, don't let me put you off."

James stepped out of the doorway and Remus walked a little jelly-legged around the corner of the house, where a miniature Abraxan figurine was trotting around in circles. When Remus headed back inside, James was standing inside the door, talking to a Felicia Lupin, Remus' mother.

"Remus, you've met James, haven't you? He lives just down the road, he's with the new family that moved in last week."

Remus shifted uneasily again. His eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Your shoes are not that fascinating, Remus, dear. Now, did you put Brax back on the shelf where he belongs?"

"Just about to, sorry," mumbled Remus, and he scurried down the hall, to what was presumably his room.

"You'll have to forgive him, he's just not very outgoing, James."

"Oh, that's fine, I'll make up for him, I usually do. Mum says I could talk several sets of ears off, swears up and down that she's put a permanent sticking charm on hers and Dad's to keep them on."

A laugh from behind him caught James off guard. He turned around to see Remus standing not three feet away. "I didn't hear you come up, Remus – don't suppose – nope, they're still here," James said, reaching up with his hands to touch his ears and grinning. Remus chuckled again.The smile filled out his hollow cheekbones and gave him a bit of a healthier look.

James spied a familiar letter in familiar green ink in Remus' hand. "You've ogt a letter, too? Are you a first year then? I just got my books before we moved."

Remus nodded, and Felicia added, "We're going to pick up his supplies in Diagon Alley right now. And, of course, Remus wants to look at the brooms while we're there."

She'd said the magic words: Diagon Alley and broom. James has his opportunity, and he certainly wasn't going to let it slip away. "Mind if I tag along? There's a couple things I wanted to get, but I didn't have the time last time. I'll Floo my parents and ask if it's alright if I can go."

"Oh, well dear, go right ahead. We were going to Floo to Diagon Alley, we can wait a minute or two."

James pulled the little pouch of Floo Powder out from his bag and threw a pinch into the fireplace in the living room. The flames grew bright with a neon green color, and James yelled, "17 Broadmoor Buckle, Potter residence!" Then he stuck his head in the flames.

When James opened his eyes, he saw his own living room, though with a slight greenish tint. "Mum!" he yelled. "Mum!"

"Jamesy! What are you doing? Where are you?"

"Mum, I'm at the neighbors, the Lupins, there's a boy my age, his name's Remus, and they're going to Diagon Alley, I'm going with them, we'll be going through the Floo Network, we won't be long, just a few hours probably. Is that okay?"

"Fine, dear. Just let us know if you'll be late for dinner."

James let out a whoop of excitement as he pulled his head out of the flames and shook his head like he was trying to shake some cobwebs loose. "Talking by Floo is always a little nerve-wracking for me, " he said to no one in particular. "Either I feel like I've been in a tunnel with a hurricane, or I worry that my hair's gonna catch fire."

"Well, you look like you've been in a tunnel with a hurricane, and if your hair caught fire, you'd be the first to know, now wouldn't you?" Remus cracked. James looked at him for a moment, then both their faces split into huge grins. James turned to Felicia and said, "Mum's fine with it. When do we leave?"

"Right now!" She threw a pinch of powder in the flames, which had turned back to orange for a few seconds, and Remus stepped into the flames, yelling "Diagon Alley!" With a swish, he was out of sight. James did the same, and Felicia followed a few moments after, once she had made sure the door was locked and charmed.

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Remus had never been to Diagon Alley – his mother bought clothes for him at various second-hand shops about England, and what she didn't buy, she made for him. But now Remus was in need of a wand, and school books, and robes, and there was simply no way to bargain shop on those items. Remus and Felicia had both been dreaming of this day and dreading it, for reasons each their own.

Remus was afflicted with lycanthropy. He had been bitten by a werewolf when he was six, out wandering around the yard watching a sunset one evening. His father had left the family a few months later; he simply couldn't handle watching his son be locked in a cage for a few nights out of each month, desperately attempting to maim or kill anything within reach. Felicia and Remus hadn't heard from him again. Felicia would lock Remus in a roomy cage in his room the day before the full moon, with lots of small furniture and the occasional chicken or rabbit. She'd place a Silencing Charm on the room, so the neighbors couldn't hear, and each morning she would charm some water from a pitcher into a large bowl for him to drink. When he transformed back into her child, she would heal his wounds and hold him while he cried.

Due to Remus' condition, Felicia had great difficulty holding a full time job; she had to be home during the three days of the full moon in case the Silencing Charm wore off or someone came to call, and she had to home school Remus when she wasn't working. Sitters were a problem, too, since paying them was a difficult matter. Felicia used up most of the inheritance her father left her to buy the house where they currently lived, in Broadmoor Buckle. She spent the rest of it on furniture and the necessities, and they scraped by with Felicia tailoring clothes out of the house and Remus making wood carvings with a pocketknife. Remus became, quite literally, a lone wolf, avoiding most people whenever he could. They never spoke a word about his illness to others. They lived a very quiet existence, living on a very tight budget.

But everything was turned upside down once Remus received his Hogwarts letter. On the spring day that he received it, Felicia sat down with him and they had a very long and emotional discussion about the situation. Felicia was privately surprised that her son was so mature for his age, though, in hindsight, his illness had aged them both a great deal; him mentally, and her physically. She often thought that Remus acted as though the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders; she looked like it was on hers.

They decided that it was too much of a risk to send him away from home. Felicia wouldn't be there to tend to him, and without the proper precautions he would be a great danger to anyone near him. Felicia wrote a kind but apologetic letter back to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall the next day, stating that, due to unfortunate circumstances, Remus wouldn't be attending Hogwarts. Remus signed the letter, and they sent the owl on its way. Neither one knew that the other cried until dropping off into a restless sleep that night.

The next morning, Felicia stumbled down the stairs feeling extremely exhausted. Not sending Remus to school meant that he would effectively be a Squib. With no formal Wizarding Education to his name, he would not be allowed a wand, and with no training, his magical powers would never be honed well enough to use them without one. He'd be an outcast, unlikely to get much of a job in the wizarding world, with virtually no chance to get one outside of it, due to his frequent absences. He would most likely never marry or have children, due to his illness and his withdrawn personality. This weighed quite heavily on her mind as she lit the stove and began fixing breakfast. Remus was sitting on his favorite windowsill in the living room, staring moodily out the window. When they heard the familiar thwap of their morning paper on their doorstep, Remus jumped up to open the door and pull it in, hoping for any sign of hope in it.

Felicia Lupin did not subscribe to the Daily Prophet like most adult wizards. After Remus was injured, she began to notice how often lycanthropes (she did not permit the term werewolf under her roof; her son was ill, he was not a monster) were killed, albeit in self-defense, and how many laws were in place against them getting jobs and simply functioning in society. It depressed her, that society worked so hard against them and their familes, and it seemed that there was no progress whatsoever to find a cure or treatment, and she discontinued her subscription shortly after Remus became ill.

Instead, she found a very little-known journal, Lycan Life, that did present the latest findings, and showed when research was being done, and discussed new and pending laws in a legal section. She had learned more about lycanthropy in one week of reading that journal than she had in all her years at Hogwarts. The wizards and witches who kept track of the subscriptions were probably the only other people in England who knew about Remus' condition. One of the stipulations for getting a subscription was that you had to be a lycanthrope. The journal was an underground effort, and they preferred to keep it that way, since revealing their names would mean complete social rejection. Every morning he could, Remus would gather it from the front stoop and devour every word, looking for hope that something was being done to help him, and others. Recently, he had been less enthused about reading it, even leaving the old issues untouched on occasion, like his hope was waning. But that morning, he jumped at the door with renewed fervor.

But this morning was different. When Remus flung the door open to grab for the journal, he leapt back in surprise to see high-heeled buckled boots, under long, flowing blue robes, which were partially hidden by an incredibly long beard with flecks of auburn in the white, above which sat a long mustache, a long crooked nose, sparkling blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles, on top all of which sat a blue pointed hat. The man who was standing before him was tall, with long fingers and a kindly twinkle in his eye. He was holding the copy of Lycan Life which would normally be sitting on the front mat at the moment.

"Th-That'smine," Remus said stupidly, reaching his hand out to snatch the paper away, before his hand flew up to his mouth and he realized what he had just admitted.

"Then, you are Remus Lupin, I suppose?" said the tall man.

Remus stuttered for a second, before he attempted to close the door on the stranger.

"Now, my boy, that is not polite, nor is it a particularly good idea. You see, I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and slamming a door on the nose of your future Headmaster can almost guarantee you a first week detention."

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Yay! First fic, and I think this one promises to be a good one! I'll try to update regularly, read and review please! I loooooove feedback! I need a beta for this story, and others in the future. If anyone is interested, my email is kaleeyjgmail.999com (remove the 999, that's the addy).