Chapter One

- The Hogwarts Express -

The steam from the great, scarlet steam engine swirled around the platform, turning the huddles of parents and students into wispy ghosts. Cats mewed in every direction, owls hooted from their cages and the air was thick with excitement.

James Potter - untidy-haired and hazel-eyed - stood beside his parents, staring around at the station platform. He was here. He was finally going to Hogwarts and he couldn't stop the broad grin from stretching over his face.

"James," said his mother sternly, while her husband dropped James' trunk at their feet. "I don't want you playing tricks while you're on the train. This is the only time you'll have to make a good impression and, if I get a single owl telling me you've thrown a dungbomb at a professor or… or turned a student into a tadpole, I won't be very pleased with you."

James watched a couple of students in long, black robes hurrying past, chattering to each other as they went. "Mum," he said, turning back to his mother in exasperation. "Mum, I couldn't turn a student into a tadpole if I tried. Not even if you offered me a year's supply of sundaes from Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlour."

Mrs Potter frowned. "It's just as well, or I'd never get another second of rest. Fleamont-" she glanced at Mr Potter "-are you sure we've got everything? James' toothbrush is in his trunk? He's got lots of pairs of pants?"

"Mum!" exclaimed James, shaking his head. "The whole world doesn't need to know about my pants!"

Fleamont Potter sighed. "Yes, Euphemia, dear. I've packed James' pants."

"Thank Merlin! I'd hate for James to get all the way to Scotland without realising he's missing something."

"Yeah," James grinned, "you wouldn't want me to wear robes with no pants, would you?"

Mrs Potter shuddered. "No. Right, the train will be leaving in a couple of minutes, so you'd better get on board, dear." She bent down to kiss her only son on the cheek, her dark hair falling over his face. "Have a wonderful term. And behave yourself!"

"Don't worry, mum. I always do," said James. He turned to his father. "Bye, dad!"

"Bye, James." Hugging his son briefly, Mr Potter stood back, next to his wife. "Do what your professors tell you to do and don't do anything silly. Your mother's quite right about making a good first impression - today could be the day that determines what the next seven years will be like."

A tiny flutter of nervousness rose in James' stomach, but he laughed all the same, running a hand through his already messy hair and adjusting his glasses. "So, no pressure."

His father looked at him. "You'll be fine, James," he said in a low voice.

"I know I will," said James truthfully. "I'm always fine. See you in the holidays!" He began to move away, lifting up his trunk with difficulty.

Mr and Mrs Potter waved, watching until their son was completely obscured by steam.

Mr Potter began to look around the platform at the other parents, craning his head to see over the pointed black hats and the tight knots of people. "Orion Black's over there," he said at last, his face twisted in disgust. "With his two sons. The eldest must be about James' age, by now."

Looking in the direction her husband indicated, Euphemia shook her head. "If I was going to be prejudiced, I'd say that the whole family deserves a cell in Azkaban. Meddling with Dark Magic and muggle-baiting... Look at Orion now - lecturing his eldest son with a face like steel!"

The two Potters watched. Orion Black and his wife, Walburga stood with their two sons a little way apart from the other families. The eldest son, a handsome boy with dark hair that kept falling in his eyes, glared at the floor while his mother gave some kind of speech. The occasional word of it drifted through the haze of steam.

"...Don't want you meddling with mudbloods… if I catch so much as a hint that you are a blood traitor… worse than the Cruciatus Curse for you… Are you looking at me, you nasty little brat?"

The eldest son looked up. His face was defiant, his expression cold and hard. He stared at his mother for a couple of seconds, then said something that the Potters couldn't hear.

Orion and Walburga turned red with rage.

Mrs Potter turned away. "Those poor boys… brought up in a family like that. I'd like to give Orion Black a piece of my mind."

"So would I," said Fleamont grimly. "But now isn't the time. James is on the Hogwarts Express and it'll be leaving in a minute."

Right on cue, the Hogwarts Express gave a great whistle, exhaling steam ten feet into the air. Parents up and down the platform began to panic, ushering their children onto the train.

James, watching from the train window, just inside the door, stared at all the families. There was a greasy-haired boy with his hook-nosed mother, a red-haired girl and her horsey-faced sister, a woman in a vulture-topped hat, and a gaggle of students in emerald green robes who were laughing at something in a cage. His parents were waving at him from a corner, just beneath the sign that read 'Platform Nine-and-three-quarters'.

Waving back, James was engulfed in steam as the train began to move, its pistons clunking beneath the compartments. He watched his parents until he could watch no more, then turned and moved down the corridor to peer in the nearest compartment. It was completely full. A group of fourth-year Hufflepuffs stopped giggling and stared at him.

"Erm…" James backed away, dragging his trunk, rumpling up his hair as he went. He'd better try a different compartment.

But the next compartment he tried was also full, this time with a trio of boys, who were playing Exploding Snap, and a girl with long blonde curls, who was using her wand to coil her hair even more. The boys glanced at James as he passed, but soon lost interest and returned to their activities. The girl flashed him a scornful look.

James moved on again, checking the third, fourth and fifth compartments to no avail. At the sixth compartment, however, he stopped. It was empty.

"Phew!" He paused beside the door to take a rest and was about to slide it open when a voice behind him made him jump.

"Any room in there?" The voice sounded like it belonged to a boy.

James whirled around, dropping his trunk on his foot as he did so. "Ouch!"

The boy let out a bark-like laugh and pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. He was very good-looking, the kind of confident, relaxed good-looking that drew the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

"Sorry," he said, grinning as he folded his arms across his chest. "That must've hurt."

James, now massaging his foot, looked up at the boy. He grinned back, straightening up and pushing his glasses more securely onto his nose. "Yeah. It did."

The boy made a face, then stood on tiptoe to see into the compartment. "So. Is anyone in there? I've been looking for somewhere to sit for ages. I'm Sirius, by the way."

"Er... I'm James," James muttered, as the boy leaned over him to pull the compartment door open. "And, no. There's no one in there."

"Cool." Sirius side-stepped James' trunk, squeezed his own luggage through the gap between James and the wall, and kicked it through the door. "You're a first-year too?"

"Yeah." Feeling relieved that he'd met someone else in his situation, James followed Sirius into the compartment and shut the door behind him. "How long d'you reckon the journey is?"

Sirius crossed one leg over the other as he sat down, talking up half a side of the compartment with his lazy position. "Dunno. Haven't got a clue. Around eight hours, I'm guessing."

James groaned to himself. "Merlin's beard! That's ages!"

"Can't be that bad, or students would've died of boredom."

"They probably do die of boredom. They probably keel over before the lunch trolley turns up and have their bodies chucked out the window."

Sirius snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised. Forget boredom, I'm going to die of hunger."

"Me too," said James, as his stomach let out a huge rumble. He watched the scenery flash past the window, taking in the deep green of the fields and hedges as they moved away from King's Cross Station. Above his head, the dim lanterns swung and clattered with the rhythm of the train.

Sirius had taken out his wand and was running it between his fingers, twirling it expertly. Confidence oozed from every inch of him and James found himself liking Sirius immensely. He'd been brought up well, it was clear to see, probably with the same kind of wealth as James. A trace of arrogance lingered about the corner of Sirius' mouth and his grey eyes gleamed with mischievous delight.

For a couple more minutes, James watched Sirius playing with the wand. And then a thought struck him. "You weren't raised by muggles, were you?" Sirius had the distinct air of someone who'd been brought up by wizards.

A darker expression crossed Sirius' face for the first time. "No. I'm pureblood," he said, shaking his head. "Everyone in my family is magical. You?"

"Same. I couldn't wait to come to Hogwarts. I've been itching to get on this train for years."

"Me too," said Sirius, unable to keep some of the bitterness out of his tone.

James looked at him, surprised. He couldn't help feeling as though Sirius' desire to escape to wizard-school was very different from his. "What d'you-?"

"My parents and I don't get on well," said Sirius flatly, before James had even finished the sentence.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Sirius. "It doesn't matter. I don't care, anyway." Turning to the window, he changed the subject. "What's your Quidditch team?"

James' eyes lit up. He adored Quidditch, the popular wizarding sport involving fourteen players on broomsticks. "I'm a Wimborne Wasps fan."

Sirius gaped at him. "You what? You like the Wasps? You can't like the Wasps! They suck!"

"Oh, yeah?" Grinning, James folded his arms in mock indignation. "Who do you support, then?"

"Puddlemere United. They're much better. They thrashed the pants off the Wasps last season - remember that epic bludger attack?"

"Of course I do!" cried James, with real indignation this time. He had, after all, obsessively followed every match on the Wizarding Wireless Network. "But the Wasps have a great team. That bludger thing was just a one-off slip-up. They're on form, usually."

Sirius snorted and pushed his hair off his face. It seemed to keep falling into his eyes, although Sirius clearly didn't care. "Yeah, usually. Not always, like Puddlemere United are. The Wasps let in an absolute ton of goals, last season. And the season before that."

"No, they didn't!" protested James. Then he glanced at Sirius's expression. He sighed, knowing too much about Quidditch to deny that the Wasps hadn't been at their best. "Okay, fine. They weren't so great last season-"

"-Or the one before," Sirius reminded him, grinning.

James found himself grinning too. "Fine. Or the one before. But they're still pretty damn good, compared to Puddlemere's handful of novices."

"Handful of novices?" said Sirius, closing his eyes as if James had mortally offended him. "Excuse me? You can't call a superb Quidditch team a 'handful of novices'! It should be made illegal. It's disgusting! Puddlemere United are way better than the Wimborne-blasted-Wasps!"

"They are not!"

"They are!" cried Sirius, standing up and jumping up and down. He pretended to sing. "Beat back those bludgers, boys, and chuck that Quaffle here!"

"Argh! My ears!" laughed James, ducking his head to avoid Sirius' 'singing'. "Whatever. Puddlemere United sucks. End of story."

"It is not 'end of story'"

"Um, yes. It is. It is one hundred per-cent the end of the story."

"Fine," said Sirius, but he was grinning. "If you want to be childish-" He sat down and bent over his trunk, unfastening the lid and extracting his school robes from underneath a pile of spellbooks.

James grinned back at him and bent over his own trunk. "I am not childish!" He pulled his robes, just as Sirius had done, from the heap of school things. "Time to change, d'you reckon?"

"Might as well. We've got a good couple of hours to kill before we get there."

James pulled his jumper over his head and lobbed it unceremoniously at the untidy mass of the trunk.

Sirius followed suit, tugging on his brand-new robes with a look of restrained delight. He felt like a student. A squeaky-clean, goody-two-shoes, first-year student. Well, he wasn't going to be good for much longer...

Sirius was going to play as many pranks as he could over the next seven years, to make up for all the time he'd spent under the restraint of the 'Noble House of Black'. He pulled out his wand. "Want to explore the rest of the train?" he asked James, who was now closing the lid of his trunk.

James looked up, surprised. Then his face broke into an expression of mischievous wonder. "You bet! We can find out who the other first-years are..."

"...And maybe play some tricks on the students. The older students..."

James smirked. "The ones that think they know better..."

"...The ones that think they're so cool..."

"...But we know they're not," James finished. "C'mon."

Sirius rolled up the sleeves of his school robes. "Where's your wand? It might be useful, even if we don't know much magic yet."

Standing up, James extracted his wand from his pocket and reached over to slide the compartment door open. "Where first?"

Sirius thought about it. Then he had a brainwave. "I know!" he said, leaping up too and leading the way out of the compartment. "We can spy on the prefects' carriage. I bet they think they're high-and-mighty."

"Yeah, I bet they do." James followed Sirius out into the corridor. "What are we going to do when we get there? Have you got any dungbombs?"

Sirius sighed. "No. My parents would kill me if I even tried to bring them. You?"

"Yeah, I've got a couple. I had to smuggle them out under my invisibility cloak, though... And I was kind of saving them for when we got to Hogwarts."

An expression of awe crossed Sirius' face. "Hang on, you've got an invisibility cloak?" he asked, gaping at James.

James grimaced. "Uh... Well, kind of. It's my dad's, but it'll be mine when he dies. I wasn't really meant to take it to Hogwarts, but..." He grinned sheepishly. "I mean, it's an invisibility cloak, for Merlin's sake! How could I not take it? Anyway, dad probably won't notice and, even if he does, he won't be getting it back."

"Wow..." The impressed smile did not fade from Sirius' features. "Wow, that's awesome! But never mind about the dungbombs. We'll just spy on the prefects as we are."

"Fair enough," said James, running one hand through his already-messy hair. "Now, let's get going or we won't be back in time for the lunch trolley. I don't want to miss it. I've heard the pumpkin pasties are worth killing for."

The two boys set off down the corridor.

A/N:

So, this is the first chapter of the first book in my Marauder-era series, which will cover the Marauders' lives from first-year until the battle of Hogwarts - I hope you like it. I haven't written fanfiction for a long time, so I apologise if I'm a bit rusty :) If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave a review. Your support is massively appreciated!

See you soon!

~ Lacy