Chapter two!

Reviews and feedback are appreciated, as always.


(June 18th 1976)

There was nothing quite like the prospect of a long, hot summer. And there was nothing that James Potter liked more than the idea of spending that summer however and wherever he pleased.

He leant back into the cushioned seat of the Hogwarts Express, his long and skinny legs stretched out in front of him. His feet rested on the seat opposite, settled between two other boys. The first, tall and willowy, had his head leant against the window with his eyes closed. It was evident from his pallor that Remus Lupin was, indeed, in good need of some sleep. Beside him, Sirius Black twirled his wand between his fingers.

"Where's Wormtail?" he mused, not taking his eyes from his wand. The fourth component of their syndicate had yet to appear on the train.

James shrugged. "He said he forgot something back at the castle."

"Was it his head?"

Despite giving Sirius a grin, James reprimanded him. "Lay off, alright." When Sirius simply responded with an unenthusiastic grunt, he added, "You're a grumpy git today, you know that?"

Before his friend could give a snarky retort, Peter Pettigrew, the final addition, wrenched open the compartment door with a flushed face. He stumbled in, almost tripping over James' outstretched legs, and clumsily caught himself on the seat next to him.

Clearly out of breath, he tried a smile. "Hullo." He nodded to Remus in the corner. "He didn't take long to pass out."

Remus did not stir at the sound of Peter's arrival. Sirius, however, straightened himself and tucked his wand into his sleeve.

"Right, now that we're all here," he started, "we've got havoc to plan."

"Isn't the whole point of havoc that it's supposed to be spontaneous?" Peter asked, a deep frown setting in his wide face. Sirius shook his head with almost a pitying sigh, to which Peter's frown became indignant. "What? It is, isn't it?"

Reaching over, the dark haired boy clapped a hand on to Peter's shoulder. "Petey, true art takes preparation. We've got exactly eighty-nine days to fill and I plan on leaving a mark. "

"Wasn't sneaking into the girls' dorm and permanently charming our names onto their bathroom mirror a mark?"

James grinned. "While that was fun, I think what Sirius is talking about is less liberal, more… symbolic."

"Right!" Sirius matched James' grin, in a mixture of mischief and glee. "Symbolic. Who knows how many more summers we can get by before we're too old and boring to get away with this stuff?"

"We barely get away with it now," came Remus' voice, though he made no attempt to open his eyes. He said nothing more, and appeared to go back to his dozing.

Sirius clapped his hands together once. "And think of this summer as a warm up. To earn the title of Hogwarts' legends, we're going to have to get creative."

The three boys shared looks of differing expressions. Sirius, quite proud with himself, grinned eagerly at his friends, while Peter looked positively terrified but as if he were happy to be.

James simply shook his head with a rueful smile. "Alright then. What do you have in mind?"

"Honestly, Lily, I know we don't like him - "

"We hate him."

"Marlene, shut up. I know we don't like him, but you can always talk to us… you know, if you want to."

He looked up at the sound of conversation outside of the compartment door. Framed by the light of the late morning sun, three silhouettes stood - one with their head hanging despondently.

"It's fine," came a third voice (the one he'd been waiting to hear). "I told you, it doesn't matter. I'm just trying to forget it."

Without a word to his comrades, James pushed himself from the seat and towards the door. He drew it open.

"Well, if you're sure…" Ambria started at the sound of the door. "Oh! Hello, James." The small blue haired girl gave him a bright smile.

The girls looked towards him; Marlene's eyes moved through into the compartment and met Sirius' with a nod. Lily met James' gaze for a moment, before promptly looking back to her friends.

"Please just let's find somewhere to sit," she said.

But Marlene was already stepping into the boys' compartment. "Just a sec!" she promised.

Lily let out what James heard to be a dejected sigh and turned down the corridor. "Come find me when you're finished here, okay?"

There was always something in the back of James' head that made him want to follow Lily whenever she walked away. Usually it was the feeling of unfinished business, his desire to fit in the last biting taunt. He had become quite accustomed to her turned back after two years of consistent declines and rejections, but never once did it ever cross his mind to give up.

He watched her as she walked, the usual debate on whether or not to follow playing out in his head. The sound of the compartment door sliding shut brought to his attention that he was now standing alone.

So, he followed.

"Hey, Evans!" he called out. There was a visibly tension in her shoulders when Lily came to an abrupt hault. She turned to him, an argument already forming on her lips.

"What is it, Potter?" she asked. Her voice was not as venomous as it sometimes had been, but instead weary.

James took a moment to take her in. She did look tired. Her skin was pale, though not like the sleeping Remus back in the compartment. It looked drained, and her freckles stood stark against it.

In a moment that was quite unusual, James had no desire to get a rise out of her. He gave her a grin, and habitually ran his hand through his hair.

"Looking forward to the summer?" he asked.

She returned a suspicious look. Placing her hands on her hips, she let out a sigh. "Yeah, I suppose." Looking behind him, she nodded up the corridor. "I'm sure your friends are waiting."

"Aren't you going to ask me if I'm looking forward to mine?"

"I'm not really in the mood for conversation."

There was an awkward pause in which James nodded. "I see that. Snape hurt your feelings again?"

At that, Lily's face hardened. "No. I mean, it's not really your business."

"I really don't understand why you put up with him, especially after -"

"Potter."

"If he, you know, called you that word again -"

Lily snapped back at him. "It's none of your business."

"I'm just saying!" James threw his hands up in defense. "It's a shitty thing to call someone, and he's a really shitty person."

He could tell by the way her eyes narrowed that he had probably crossed a line. Probably. But the event by the Lake only a few weeks before had left him in desperate need of talking to her.

"Let's just make something clear, Potter," Lily began, her voice oddly controlled, "Your feelings about the matter aren't anything I want to hear about. We're not friends. You can think Severus is a 'shitty' person all you like, but that's your business. And this is mine."

As she turned to walk away, he stepped after her hurriedly. "Evans, wait."

"What?" She turned to look at him incredulously, her bottle green eyes widening and her eyebrows raising.

James' tongue felt like it was swelling in the back of his throat. "Look, I… I just wanted to let you know that it wasn't… okay of me, the other week. By the Lake."

She simply looked at him.

"I mean, I'm not going to say I'm sorry - the git had it coming - but… I, uh, yeah. I didn't mean to, uh, upset you. With it, I mean."

Lily shook her head, and her fists curled at her side. Gritting her teeth, she replied, "You see, this is why we can't even begin to be friends. You are completely incapable of taking responsibility for your actions - for your bully actions - and still expect everyone to let you off scot free."

She stepped towards him suddenly, and James found himself back up against the wall. He was close enough to see her chest rising and falling heavily in angered breaths. With a determined effort, he kept his eyes on hers.

"Well, I won't," she continued, glaring at him. "I have no interest in bickering with you, Potter. And I have no interest in stopping you from carrying on the way you do. That's your business. But I would like it if we could both agree that you keep your business to yourself and stay out of mine."

It wasn't a secret that Lily had not liked James for a rather long time. Yet, there were sometimes - only sometimes - where her words made him feel like he'd been sucker punched. He should have been used to her snapping and reprimands by now - it had been a good three years of them, at least. Usually, he'd find himself frustrated with her, torn between the questions of why and how he even still bothered.

Seeing her there, exhausted and angry, he knew when to make his retreat.

If he pushed any further, that might be the bridge burned for good. Because even though she was right, they weren't friends, maybe one day they could be.

"See you in September, Evans," he said, tipping his head to her. He squeezed past her, heading back to the compartment.

Maybe in three months he could try again.

(June 20th 1976)

"Took you long enough."

James looked up from his stride to see Sirius sat on the crest of the hill, cigarette in hand. It was half-finished, and there was another distinguished butt at his feet. This meant two things. The first: that Sirius had been waiting for him an approximate fifteen minutes.

And the second: that things were unbearable at Grimmauld Place.

James dropped into the grass, which was dry and prickly from the heat, and gave Sirius an apologetic grin. "Got caught halfway out of the door by Mum. You know what she's like."

Sirius nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, then paused. Instead, he took a final drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out. "You ready to go?' he asked, gesturing down the hill. Below them in the dim light of the evening, the streetlamps were just beginning to turn on in the small village.

"Yeah," James said, pushing himself up from the grass. He offered Sirius a hand, and pulled him to his feet. He looked to the old watch on his wrist. "Wormtail and Moony said they'd meet us at nine."

The pair started their descent in silence. The air was still warm from the heat of the day, but a breeze had begun to pick up as they walked. Sirius looked up at the sky as he walked, whistling a quiet tune under his breath. The moon was beginning to emerge above them; it shone weakly in its third phase.

James kicked a stone as they reached the bottom of the hill, watching it as it rolled to a stop. A small cobbled lane stretched out in front of them, leading into the village. Despite the warm air and the fact that it had still not grown dark, the streets were empty.

"Where did we agree on meeting again?" Sirius asked.

"The fountain with the ugly fish."

As Sirius nodded, his shaggy hair bounced against his chin. James watched as it brushed over a small but red mark on his jaw line. Pressing his lips together, he turned his gaze back to the village.

The boys had been best friends for the past five years, and in that time, James had quickly learned when and when not to bring up the subject of Sirius' family. He had heard, of course, of the tales of abuse (though he often suspected that Sirius' downplayed these for the sake of comedic value).

There were some times, however, during the summers where Sirius would arrive at his house unannounced. At first, his mother found it to be quite strange but before long she accepted it as a necessity. When Sirius did this, he didn't say why he was there. James just accepted that he was.

They finally came into the square of the village, where they spotted Remus resting against the fountain. He looked better than he did on the train, James noticed. Home was usually good for him.

"'Evening," Remus greeted, giving them an easy smile.

Sirius returned his smile and slung his arm over Remus' shoulder. "It is good evening, Moony. A good evening indeed."

He raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Are you drunk already?"

With a scandalised gasp, Sirius dropped his arm. "I'm simply just being chipper! How dare you, Remus?"

"Well, it would be a first if you weren't."

The three boys rested against the edge of the fountain, once again awaiting their fourth counterpart. Nettlestead Green was a popular meeting point for the boys. It wasn't too far from London, for Sirius to fly in, and close enough to Rochester for James. Over the years, Remus' mother had moved from town to town, but he always seemed to meet there with ease. It was a small little village, with old brick churches and dense farmland, and was quiet enough for them to get up to some mischief relatively undetected. In fact, it was such a landmark in the boys' rendezvous points, that on the edge of the fountain lay four scrawled sets of initials.

Fifteen minutes or so passed, and James found himself looking at his watch. "Bloody hell, is there ever a time Wormtail is not late?"

"Probably not," Sirius answered, digging into the pockets of his large black coat. He pulled out a small pocket watch and flipped open the lid. Instead of traditional clock face, with hands and numbers, there was a small dial with each of the boys' faces painted onto one of the four hands. Three of these pointed north; the remaining pointed southwest.

"He's still at home," Remus noted, his brow pulling together thoughtfully. "Surely he would have left by now."

James murmured in agreeance. While Peter was characteristically late, he was never quite that late. His mind flicked momentarily back to the front page of the Daily Prophet he had been reading this morning, and he felt a small spark of concern.

"Come on then." Impulsively, James started towards the hill where he and Sirius had first met. There was a fallen tree in the wood in which they often concealed their brooms. His friends shared a quick look, before falling in to step behind him.

Together, they made their way up the hill to find Peter.

(20th June 1976)

Mrs. Pettigrew sat sobbing at the kitchen table.

The four boys, not quite sure what to do with themselves, sat with their cups of tea untouched. Peter, whose absence was now being explained, gripped his cup tightly, the whites of his knuckles beginning to show.

They sat in the kitchen of Peter's childhood home. The kitchen was familiar to them all, as they would once upon a time spend their holidays being spoiled rotten by the single Mrs. Pettigrew and her passion for baked goods. It was a relatively small kitchen, with bare brick walls, and a fireplace. Brass pots and pans hung from the ceiling above the table, and a small refrigerator rumbled quietly in the corner.

"What am I going to do?" Mrs Pettigrew cried, muffling her following sobs into a cotton handkerchief. "We've always lived in this house. This is our home."

Peter's face was contorted with a mixture of sympathy for his mother, and an unusual anger James didn't think he had seen before. "It's okay, Mum. He can't get us kicked out. Surely, he can't."

"But what if he does?"

Remus reached across the table and gently touched Mrs. Pettigrew's hand. "I'm sure he has no grounds, Mrs. P. You haven't broken any of tenancy laws."

Despite his gesture, Remus' words seemed not to affect her distress. "Oh, Peter, where will we go? Where will I go? Who will take on a middle aged woman who works at the post office for a living? Nobody sane, that's who!"

"Mum, please…"

"Over there you took your first steps, Peter," she continued, her hand flailing in the direction of the hallway. She blew her nose noisily, and went on. "And you sat right in that very chair when you received your letter from Hogwarts!"

James watched as Peter's jaw pulsed, setting his teeth in a hard grit. "Mr. Barrowman won't kick us out. He can't. Like Remus said -"

"Oh, but he's so awful, Peter! I just can't bear it any longer!"

"I know, Mum." Peter's voice was quiet, and sad.

Mrs. Pettigrew's sobs began to gradually subside, fading to soft sniffles into her handkerchief. Sirius had been looking to his cup for an awfully long time, keeping awkwardly silent. After a small while, no sound filled the room beside the crackling of the small fire on the wall.

Peter's face was pale, but his features were set in a determined expression. "Come on, Mum. I'll help you to bed."

Tucking away her handkerchief, the older woman waved him away. "No, no, don't be silly." She made a clumsy attempt to fix her greying hair, and picked up her teaspoon to judge her appearance. She let out a sad laugh. "Oh, what a state. I do apologise, boys. I know you had plans tonight."

"No need to be sorry, Mrs. P," Remus said. He offered her a small smile. "We've still got plenty of time."

She gave him a warning look, though the feeling wasn't quite in it. "Now, don't you stay out too late. I know it's warm out there, but growing boys do need their sleep."

"Yes, Mrs. Pettigrew," the three boys chorused, followed by Peter's, "Yes, Mum. Come on, you need sleep too. We'll figure out what to do with Mr. Barrowman in the morning."

At the mention of their neighbour, Mrs. Pettigrew's eyes began to fill once again. Peter hurriedly took the crook of her elbow, and gently ushered her out of the room.

Sirius looked up from his cold cup of tea and blew air from his cheeks. "Merlin. I hate it when mums cry."

James returned solemn nod. "Yeah, me too." He looked out into the hallway and listened for the footsteps on the floor above. "I don't think I've ever seen Wormtail angry like that either."

"Neither have I," Remus said, quite concerned. "It takes a lot, I suppose. But he has mentioned this Barrowman bloke before. Apparently he's quite the real estate investor. He's been targeting landlords around here for months, trying to buy out their homes and kicking out their tenants."

"What will happen, do you reckon?" James asked. "If he manages to buy this place out."

Remus shrugged. "I'm not entirely certain. Depending on the notice given by the landlord, there is a possibility she could have to find a new home. It does depend on the tenancy agreement though, I suppose."

"Poor Mrs. P." Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "This Barrowman needs taking down a peg or two. No one can force someone out of their own home - it's just not right. And especially Mrs. P - who'd want to send such a lovely little woman out onto the street? He must be a bloody monster!"

"Agreed, but there's not much a bunch of sixteen year old boys can do about it," Remus replied.

Resting his chin in hand, James began to ponder. He chewed his lip, something he was known to do when troubled with a problem. "Well, there's nothing we can do about the house buying, no. But there might be something we can do about taking him down a peg or two."

Both looking at him, Sirius' eyes lit up and Remus raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly did you have in mind, Prongs?"

(21st June 1976)

If one of the residents of Crawley had looked out of their window at two twenty-four in the morning, they would have seen four rather suspicious looking teenagers lurking in the alleyway behind Mr. Gerald Barrowman's garden. Dressed in dark coats, with their hoods pulled up over their heads, they looked like quite the delinquents.

Which, in all honesty, was what the Marauders really were.

James looked down the alleyway out of habit, while Sirius made work on the fickle lock on the gate into the garden. While Peter shone a small torch onto Sirius' hands, Remus joined James in keeping a look out for any potential witnesses.

"Muggle locks are such a pain," Sirius complained, giving the gate a swift kick when his effort with the lock appeared a waste. "Where's a good Alohomora when you need one?"

"Watch your voice," Remus hushed, flicking his eyes up to Mr. Barrowman's house. The lights remained off, leaving the house before them in complete darkness, and assumedly Mr. Barrowman's sleeping body inside. "And unless you want a nice warning from the Ministry, I suggest you figure out that lock using methods other than your wand."

Sirius grumbled unintelligibly, but continued his fumbling with the lock. James suppressed a smile at the familiar interaction between his friends. Once checking the alleyway once more, he turned to Peter, who was still very quiet.

"You alright?" he asked softly. Peter nodded, but there was something odd about his expression. James reached out and gripped his shoulder. "Look, it might not help your mum's situation, but at least we'll get the satisfaction of knowing he'll wake up very, very pissed off in the morning."

At that, Peter returned a weak smile. "Yeah. That'll be something at least."

"We're in!" Sirius all but shouted. With another harsh hushing from Remus, he slipped into the garden, his friends following behind.

The garden outside of Mr. Barrowman's house was exactly as the boys might have expected it. Pristine cut lawns, with short shrubbery around the edge. There stood a whirly-gig clothes line by the back door of the house, and only a few metres from the gate sat a very well kept wooden shed.

James grinned when he saw it.

"Over here," he murmured to the other boys, walking gingerly through the grass towards the shed. It was relatively large, with two small windows on the side. James ran his fingers along the frames of the windows, looking for any weaknesses. On the second window, he found a small space underneath the frame and pulled it open.

He looked to his friends. "We're all in agreement, yes? We're going to set off the Crack-o-Whizz bomb in there, and leg it."

While Sirius and Remus nodded, Peter spoke up. "I want to stand in the alley and watch. I want to make sure it blows up."

The boys looked at their friend, surprised and impressed. Sirius gave a soft cackle, and patted Peter on the shoulder. "This," he said, shaking Peter gently, "this is what I meant about leaving our mark."

James rummaged the pockets of his coat, and withdrew a small, galleon-sized disk with a small wick protruding from its side. He held out his free hand to Sirius.

"Lighter?"

Sirius obliged, sliding a small metal zippo into his friend's hand. With a shared grin, James took the lighter, held up the Crack-o-Whizz bomb before his face, and lit the wick.

In a quick move, he slipped the flaming explosive into the crack of the window. Before he even began to turn around, Sirius, Remus and Peter were already shuffling towards the gate. He followed them, but not before throwing a quick glance over his shoulder.

Once they pulled the gate closed, they stood back in the alleyway and watched their work unfold.

"Is it working?" Peter whispered after a minute. The garden was strangely quiet, and James found himself holding his breath. Anticipation filled the area around the four, as they waited for the chaos to start.

And it did.

Slowly, but surely, a small spiral of smoke began to rise from the garden edge. After a moment, it was met with a loud hissing noise before violet coloured sparks began shooting up into the dark sky. Sirius appeared unable to help himself; James shushed him with a laugh as he cried out in excitement. The sparks became stronger and more frequent, before a loud bang emitted through the entire street.

The boys took this as their cue. Clambering clumsily in fits of laughter, the four of them stumbled out of the alleyway and back towards Peter's house. None of them considered the havoc to have been in any way detrimental to Mrs. Pettigrew - after all, how could Mr. Barrowman possibly prove it was them?

And as the boys laughed hysterically, running out onto the lit street, they left with one last sound ringing in their ears: the disgruntled cry of Mr. Barrowman's voice.

(6th July 1976)

James walked into his bedroom to find Sirius sprawled out on it bed, reading a letter.

"Just let yourself in then?" he asked with a grin, dropping his broom in the corner. He stretched his arms above his head, before tugging his damp jumper off. Sirius responded with nothing but a grunt, not tearing his eyes from the page in front of him. "Marlene?"

"Yeah, they're in Brighton."

"They?" James raised an eyebrow before grabbing a towel and another change of clothes. "I'm just going to shower too. The heat is disgusting for having a fly."

Sirius looked up at him and wrinkled his nose. "Ah, I thought I could smell something." Narrowly avoiding James' incoming sweaty jumper, he answered his previous question. "And yeah, she's visiting Ambria with Lily. They're spending a couple of months down there."

At the mention of Lily's name, James had to stop himself from pausing. He pressed his lips together and attempted with everything he could source to act casual.

"Oh yeah?" said James. "That'll be nice for them."

Sirius raised a knowing eyebrow. "Mm-hm. Say, Prongsy, did you ever speak to her after that time by the Lake?"

"Speak to who?"

Sirius didn't even bother to dignify that with a response. James let out a sigh, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I tried on the train. She made it quite clear that she didn't want to be friends."

"Eh, not so bad." He turned back to the letter. "You know, it sucks but I think we both know you're never going to get anywhere with her. Not right now. She's too stubborn."

James' mouth moved into a thin line. "I know." And he did know. Maybe that's why he kept trying.

James could tell his friend was eyeing him over the edge of his letter, but he turned his back to him. "I'm going to go shower."

"Alright," said Sirius. He called out, just as James reached the doorway. "Hey! Fancy a trip to Brighton fun fair tonight?"

He let out a sigh. This backing off Lily business may prove harder than he had expected.