Authors Note: Hi everyone! So, this is a story I thought up about what would happen if the Marauders had left behind something for Harry. A few things I'd like you to know before you read this story!

I don't know what I'm going to do with Hermione quite yet but I know she will be apart of this story. Tonks went to school with the Marauders, she's a few years younger but closer in age then in cannon. I did this because I want Teddy to be apart of this story and I didn't want to change who his mother was so I changed her age. I don't know what the pairings will be yet, but you'll find out when I do. I believe that's everything for now, if anything else comes up I'll let you know!

~ Chapter 1: The Attics Secret ~

~ Harry Potter ~

Ever since he'd lost his parents at the tender age of one young Harry James Potter had been a shy, quiet child. He grew up with his aunt Petunia - a tall horse faced woman with a obscenely long neck, sickly pale skin, and straw like blond hair - and his uncle Vernon - a man who held a closer resemblance to a walrus than an actual human being, he had more hair on his face than on his head which took the form of a large black mustache, and a pair of watery blue eyes. Together the two had a son, Dudley, the boy was twice Harry's size and it was clear that he took after his father for even at the age of five he looked more like a fat pig rather than a human toddler.

Together the three made up the Dursley family, the last living blood relatives to Lily Potter née Evans and young Harry's only family. The four lived in a perfectly normal house, in a perfectly normal neighborhood, and if anyone were to have asked about any strange occurrences happening at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging Surrey they would've been laughed right out-of-town. Though there weren't many who knew of the Dursley's nephew, and if they did - well they couldn't say much, they only knew what the Dursley's said of him. Horror stories that turned the five-year old into a demon. The neighbors looked at the Dursley's as if they were saints for even letting the boy breathe in their presents.

But they didn't know of the real monsters.

The Dursley's had never liked Petunias sister, and they never wanted to be stuck with her child, but they knew kicking the boy out wasn't an option, so instead they treated him like a slave. They taught him to cook the day he was old enough to see over the stove, and clean the house even before that. The boy was forced to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs and received little to no food for days on end. Always being punished for things that he could not possibly control.

But all of this changed the day of his fifth birthday. For most children this meant presents, love, parties, and cake. For Harry it meant more chores than usual along with the occasional beating. The day to him held no special significance besides pain and suffering. And so, Harry dreaded the thought of every July 31st, terrified of what the day may hold.

It was on that day his aunt dragged him from his little cupboard under the stairs and up to the second story - he wasn't often allowed up there, his family saying it was no place for freaks like him. His fears only grew when she sent him up a rickety old ladder into a room he'd never seen before.

It was the attic. A place the Dursley's had forgotten about for years themselves.

His aunt had told him he wasn't to come down until the entire space was absolutely spotless. But if that were the case Harry figured he'd be stuck up there until his next birthday.

The Dursley's attic was an absolute horror story. Dust spread like a blanket across every available surface. Moldy boxes stacked in unstable towers to create an endless maze. A musty smell hung in the humid air making it difficult to breathe. The only light came from a small circular window on the far-right wall, but it did little to cover the large space.

Harry winced, What a nightmare.

Emerald eyes scanned the surrounding area as he looked for a place to start. His old trainers left imprints in the dust as he crossed the attic floor and his overly baggy clothes brushed against boxes stirring up dust which Harry couldn't help but breathe in. He began to cough and started waving his hand in-front of his face, but this only dispersed it even farther. Dust flew into his face burning his eyes and forcing him to squeeze them shut tight. He tried to take another step forward but ended up tripping over his too big shoes and crashing into a pile of boxes. They fell to the floor with a deafening bang.

Harry's head whipped towards the hatch leading back down to the landing. He didn't dare move a muscle as he waited for the monstrous bellow of his uncle to echo throughout the house. He held his breath, but nothing came. Harry frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. His uncle was always looking for a reason to yell at him, it was odd that he chose not to when Harry had just made such a racket, something the Dursley's hated oh so much.

Ever so slowly Harry crept towards the small window and hoisted himself up, balancing dangerously on a stack of old boxes, the pile wobbled uncertainly under his weight, but held. He peeked out the window and glanced out over the front yard. As always everything was neatly trimmed, not a single blade out-of-place, the flowerbeds were free of weeds, having been cleaned out just the day before, a single tree sat in the Dursley's front lawn, just like every other yard on the block. The only thing missing was his uncle Vernon's new station wagon which no longer sat in the driveway.

The Dursley's had left, and they'd gone without him. Harry found this quite confusing as they'd never left him alone in the house…ever. They didn't trust him. Harry glanced over his shoulder at the overturned boxes and winced.

Evidently, they were right not to.

Harry hurried down from his makeshift ladder and over towards the mess.

He made quick work of turning the boxes back over before opening them in a hurry. He didn't want his aunt and uncle to come home and blame him for breaking anything, even though their accusations would be right for once. With them out of the house he'd be able to get the glue and fix it before they got back, or at least hide the pieces somewhere they'd never find them.

He didn't know what he'd find when he opened the first box. He didn't know that when she was young his mother had lived in this very house, or that her parents had let her, and James use the space as storage. He never expected his aunt to keep anything even remotely related to his parents. Then again, if Petunia had known what was in those boxes, she would have burnt them a long time ago. But she didn't know, so here the boxes had stayed, and here they would have stayed had she not sent her nephew to clean out a space she had forgotten even existed.

Harry hadn't planned on snooping, he really hadn't. He knew if his aunt and uncle ever found out he did they'd punish him severely. But the box had been full of such wondrous things, things that his aunt and uncle would never allow in their house. Which made them very interesting to Harry's ever-growing curiosity. And so, for the first time, Harry Potter did not do as he was told. Instead he started rummaging through the items that only seemed to grow in oddity the further he got.

Four old jackets, made of a leather like material Harry had never seen before, all of them with a large golden M stitched into the back (he wondered what it stood for). A set of books with strange titles like A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration and Magical Drafts and Potions. Harry bit his lip and glanced around the enclosed space, he was nervous, even though he knew no one was there, before flipping the first book open. And there on the inside cover was a name, one he had heard but never thought he would see. This book is property of James Potter.

The book slipped from between Harry's limp fingers and landed on the ground with a dull thud.

He glanced back towards the boxes. These were his parents' things. His aunt told him that all their belongings had been lost in a house fire just a week after the accident. But as he stared down at the book by his feet it was clear she'd been lying. Could she have lied about other things too?

Now Harry knew his family didn't like him, but it was alright because he had never really liked them either. They had always been mean and cruel, but he'd thought they cared about him at least a little. But they had lied to him. The evidence was glaringly obvious. So, if they were lying to him, then it was okay for him not to listen to them, a realization that made perfect sense in his five-year old mind. A smile slowly spread across the young boy's face, one that promised trouble and chaos. Before Harry could think of what he was doing he had the boxes contents scattered across the attic floor and was kneeling in the middle of the pile.

Harry forgot that he was supposed to be cleaning. He forgot about what his family would do if they found him like this. He forgot everything he had ever been told. His only focus being on the objects surrounding him, but there was one thing in particular that had caught his attention.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of the pile was an old leather-bound journal. In the center of the cover was another embroidered golden M. The journal wasn't in the best shape, the leather was scuffed and had what looked like burn marks scattered all across the front, but that's not what drew Harry to it. No, what made this journal so interesting to him was that it was blank, or at least it appeared to be.

It was quite obvious to him that the journal was well used, yet each page he turned to was as white as the day it had been purchased - not even a fingerprint graced its pages. And of course, this piqued the five-year old's interest.

His aunt and uncle were always going on about how freaks and oddities were infesting the world for all the perfectly normal people out there. Harry had always found these kinds of things intriguing (though he didn't dare say that out loud).

Harry flipped through the journal slowly, inspecting each page and examining every detail. Nothing. He was just about to set the book aside and move onto the other objects when a piece of paper fluttered out from between the pages and landed at his feet.

Green eyes sparkling with curiosity the young boy reached down and brought the paper up to his face. It was thicker than he was used to and looked to be quite a few years old, crumpled and yellowing slightly at the edges, and when he turned it over there it was. A name, his name, was scrawled messily across its front in neon blue ink. For a moment the boy could do nothing but stare at it.

With shaking hands, he slowly pealed open what he now recognized as a letter. He'd never gotten a letter before.

Dear Harry,

If your reading this, it means you've finally made it to Hogwarts! It's your first year, you've been sorted, and by now you must've made some amazing new friends. I wish I could be there with you. I remember the first time I walked down those halls, it was the most magical place I'd ever seen (Diagon Alley included).

I'm worried that you may be reading that and your mother and I are no longer with you. Harry, I want you to know that your mother and I love you very very much.

I'm writing this letter to you now so that you know just how much we love you. The journal you now hold was once mine. When I was in school my friends and I formed a group of sorts. We called ourselves the Marauders, back then we weren't the most sensitive of people and I dearly hope you'll listen to me when I say that I carry that regret with me every day of my life, but we were as close as brothers.

I'm writing this letter to you now in hopes that you find friends like that one day too, but it's also to warn you. We pulled pranks and caused mayhem. We never meant anything by it, at the time we thought we were being funny, but after I met your mother, I realized just how bad it was. Most of our jokes were just for fun, they made our peers laugh, but we took it too far, we became bullies.

I hope that one day you find the same joys that I knew, but I must warn you not to take it too far. Pull pranks, play jokes, and have fun, but never become the bully.

Your mother and I love you Harry, and we always will. The book is magic and to open it you must say the password, just place your finger on the cover and repeat the following, I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. To close do the same and say Mischief managed.

With all my love, your Father, James Potter the mighty Prongs!

P.S. Promise me you'll never show this book to your mother. We promised her we'd burn it years ago.

Harry read the letter over three times, partly because he couldn't believe it, but also because he was only just learning to read. There were tears in his eyes. It was the only thing he had ever hoped for, a memory of his parents. Something of theirs he could have for as long as he lived. But it wasn't just one thing, it was boxes upon boxes of them.

His things, things that the Dursley's didn't know about, things that he needed to hide.

Alright, so that's it for this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it and I hope to see you all favorite, following, and reviewing this story!