Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the Marauders sadly...*sobs uncontrollably*

The Marauders' Adventures: Year One

And when it rains on this side of town,
It touches everything.
Just say it again and mean it,
We don't miss a thing,
You made yourself a bed at the bottom
of the blackest hole,
and convinced yourself
that it's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore.

~When It Rains, Paramore

4.

The smoke billowing from the Hogwarts Express almost reminds me of that old baker, with his big house. It has an old chimney which is always billowing out smoke. People rush back and forth. A multitude of owls are hooting, cats are mewling and toads are croaking. Mother grips my arm tightly, as if she's afraid I would go missing in the crowd.

Mother and I finished my Hogwarts shopping two days ago. In the trolley, I have my trunk and a new owl. He's a barn owl, the only owl that nobody wanted to have. I named him Spero. Father is still in a coma, but the Ministry still pays him. Even with that, Mother's now working with Madam Malkins everyday in Diagon Alley. I got free robes because of this.

There's a family of four next to us, all of them have flaming red hair. There's another family of four on the other side of us, and they all have black hair. I look at Mother. She has light brown hair, and I have unruly black hair. I feel unique for one second.

Mother gets down on her knees and takes both of my hands in hers. I feel like a little kid again. "Now, James, I want you to do the best you can do at Hogwarts. I want you to prove to everyone who you are. Can you do that for me?"

Instead of using the words, "Your Father and I....Are you fine with that?", she now uses the sentence, "Can you do that for me?" I know she's being strong for the both of us.

"Yes, Mother. I can do that for you." I say, letting a smile break through. I can do that for her. I will make myself a different face for Hogwarts. No one knows who I am here, no one knows what happened three weeks ago and no one cares. I can do that.

Mother smiles and wipes her eyes, which are starting to cry. "Now be a good boy and make us proud." She doesn't say Father. She hasn't said that word for a while now. But I know who she's talking about. "I know you can do it, James." I admire Mother's faith in me. For a shining moment, she's Mother again, the mother she was three weeks ago, before that fateful day.

Then it fades away, and I see her frailty, the dullness in her eyes, which are watery all the time and I know her resolve is waivering. It's me who takes her hands in mine. "Be strong, Mother."

"I will. I will, James." she says very quietly. I give her a peck on the cheek and steer my trolley towards the train. I won't even think of asking Mother to put my trolley in the train for me. She is much too fragile.

Someone steps in front of me. It's a boy from the flaming red hair family. He has a gold badge on his sweater, with the words 'Prefect' imprinted on it. "Need any help?" he asks, and I see brilliant white teeth. He is smiling.

"Sure," I say nonchalantly, letting him take my trunk into the train. I follow him, bringing Spero on the train with me.

I'm glad I asked him for help, because people around me were walking to and fro. I was pretty sure they were going to their friends after two months of vacation. The boy with flaming red hair puts my trunk in a compartment and says to me, "Sorry, but I have to go." He's turning red, just like his hair.

"What's your name?" I ask before I even realize what I'm saying.

"I'm Arthur Weasley," he says brightly, shaking my hand. "What's yours?"

"James Potter," I say, happy that he doesn't live in Godric's Hollow. But his overly red face suddenly turns pale. "You're J-James Potter? Son of the famous Auror Potter?"

I nod, feeling weak in the knees. A question is now buzzing in my head: How many people know me?

"My condolences," he says, giving me a pat on the back. Before I could turn around, he is already in another compartment.

And I turn around to go into the compartment. I look around. It's empty except for two people, a boy and a girl my age. I sit down next to the girl.

The two of them are already in a conversation. I can tell the girl was crying.

The compartment door slides opens and a boy with hair as dark as mine leaps into the seat.

"Hey," he says, grinning like a wild dog.

I clear my throat and force myself to smile. "Hi." We stay like this in silence. The two people sitting next to us are talking.

"Do you know what house you'll be in?" a boy with greasy hair asks the girl, who slowly shakes her head.

He straightens and smiles wistfully. "I'm going to be in Slytherin."

Slytherin? I remember one time when my Father came home and said some vile things about Slytherins. He said that they were always up to no good and he told me that once someone goes to Slytherin, they almost always turn bad.

I turn to the boy sitting in front of me. "I think I'd rather go home instead of being in Slytherin. What do you think?"

The boy turns sullen, so quickly that I blink. "My whole family's in Slytherin."

"I'm gonna be in Gryffindor, 'where dwell the brave at heart'" I said, trying to cheer up the moody boy. He grins, and it seems to work, but...

"So you'd rather be brawny than brainy?" The boy with greasy hair says, leering at me. I move back, a bit disgusted. I swear I saw a mothball come out of the back of his slimy head.

The other boy pipes up and says, "Where will you go, seeing as you're neither?" The first thing that comes to my mind is that the boy in front of me is witty, and I laugh so hard my sides burst. I haven't laughed this hard since...forever!

The girl stands up and I stare. Even though she was crying, she was very pretty, with her red hair, green eyes and freckles. She looked angry at us, so I shut up. "Come on, Severus," she says to the greasy boy, and together they get out of the compartment.

The dark-haired boy laughs, tripping Severus on his way out. "See ya, Snivellus!" He shuts the compartment door with a bang.

I look at him, a smile starting to form on my face. "What did you say your name was again?" I ask curiously, watching him fall back into the seat.

"I didn't," he grins suggestively, wiggling his black eyebrows, "Isn't that some muggle line they use down at one of their pubs?"

My eyebrow shoots up. "No, my Grandpapa used to say that to me all the time. I think he has problems with his memory." I clarify, making sure I didn't sound like a queer. I've seen what those boys in Godric's Hollow do to queers.

"Ah," he says in understanding. Without warning, he takes a Chocolate Frog from his sack sitting next to him, he wolfs it down.

"By nabe if Thiriouth Flamk," he says, between munches. I look at him, repulsed and amazed that he can actually say a sentence with a wriggling Chocolate Frog in his mouth. Was he trying to say something to me? He swallows the Frog whole, makes an audible gulp in his throat and looks at me.

"Sorry," he says nervously. His hand starts scratching the back of his head, like a nervous twitch. "I said my name's Sirius Black. What's yours?"

"I'm...I mean, um..." I was anxious all of a sudden. What if he acted just like the prefect, Arthur Weasley? Sirius is amused, I can tell just by looking at him that he's enjoying seeing me squirm. "Uh...um..."

"Lemme guess," Sirius says, taking out his wand from his pocket and twirling it in his fingers, "your parents dropped you as a child and now you have to wear a name tag just to remember your name, am I right?"

"NO! I'M JAMES POTTER, DAMMIT!" I didn't even realize I was yelling. Sirius stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Relax man, the whole train can hear you."

Crap. "Sorry," I give him a smile and sit back down. He looks so serious right now.

And then he ruins his look by grinning like a psychotic killer. "So, you're a Potter, eh?" Again he twirls his wand in his fingers. "Any relation to Beatrix Potter?"

"You're a Black, right?" I shot back, smirking. "And who the hell is Beatrix Potter?"

"Never mind," he mutters, sniggering like a maniac, "I'm not supposed to know who that is. I'm pureblood, you see."

"Me too." Beatrix Potter must be a muggle. The grin on my face keeps getting bigger and bigger.

In my opinion, this person named Sirius Black's turning out to be even more interesting by the minute.

A/N.: I don't care if no one's reviewing. They can go crazy for all I care.