The Marauders: A Tale From the Beginning
Chapter One: Eye of the Beholder
The morning sunrise poked sharply at the fronts of James' eyelids. He mumbled incoherently, turning over.
"Get up, James. Come on, you'll be late," his mother said sweetly, pulling the covers from his limp body.
"Just a bit longer," James murmured.
His mother placed her hands firmly on her hips and said in a loud voice, "James Potter, you get out of that bed right now."
James opened one eye, peering up at her fuzzy outline. "Alright, mum, alright."
"Your breakfast is getting cold, so hurry," she said, her voice returning to its normally pleasant quality.
James waited until she had left his room before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He stretched, yawning loudly. He looked around. His things, which his mother had told him to pack the night before, were scattered everywhere. His wand was somewhere on his desk, which was piled high with comics, books about Quidditch, and clipped articles from the Daily Prophet; his new school robes, which he had gotten only the week before at Diagon Alley, were somewhere in the depths of his closet, as were his new school books. There were countless posters of his favorite Quidditch teams lining his walls and ceiling (you could hardly see the light pastel blue paint through them) and several of his figurines were zooming around above his head, a long-standing game of Quidditch obviously in progress.
James sighed, rubbing his eyes once more, picked his glasses up off his bedside table, and made his way downstairs.
His father was already at the kitchen table, his nose buried in the newest edition of the Daily Prophet.
"'Morning, Dad," James said, rounding the table and taking his seat. His mother had piled his plate high with eggs, sausage, pancakes, waffles, bacon, and all manner of breakfast foods. James, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why she always put so much food on his plate when she knew how little he actually ate. At 11, James was a scrawny boy with long legs and arms that hardly seemed to fit his body. He wore large spectacles, behind them shining dark brown eyes likes his father's. His hair was very unruly, never staying in place no matter what he or his mother did with it.
"Good morning, James," his father said, folding up the Daily Prophet and smiling proudly at his son. "Are you excited about your first day at Hogwarts?" James shrugged, his mouth full of food, and his father grinned. "Of course you are. You're bound to make friends right off, son, so don't worry about that. And you'll have Dumbledore as headmaster so this year's bound to be exciting."
As his father rattled on, James nodded occasionally and mumbled. His father liked to talk and James liked to let him. Also known for changing subjects quickly, he went from Hogwarts to the Quidditch league finals to his last conversation with the Minister of Magic the week before. "He seemed right interested in what I had to say on the subject," he told his wife, who nodded and continued packing James' school things, which floated down the stairs in a tidy line, waiting their turn to be placed neatly in his trunk.
Twenty minutes later they were standing outside the Hogwarts Express, his mother hugging him in a tearful goodbye. His father stood proudly, his chest puffed out. He patted James on the shoulder, saying, "Show them at Hogwarts what the Potters are made of, James."
James nodded and grabbed his trunk in one hand, dragging it behind, and the cage of the new barn owl his parents had got him upon his acceptance to Hogwarts in the other. He lugged his trunk and his owl onto the train and began the exhausting task of finding a compartment that wasn't full of people. He found one near the back of the train with a boy who looked to be about his own age in it. He had short-cropped black hair and electric blue eyes and was looking out the window, a bored expression on his face. James entered the compartment, smiling. The boy looked up, his brow creased in curiosity.
"I hope you don't mind. It seems that everywhere else is just about packed full." The boy stared at him a moment more before smiling widely, revealing rows of perfectly straight white teeth.
"No problem. I was beginning to think I'd have to spend this entire blasted ride by myself." James dragged his trunk in, stowed it under his seat, and put his owl on the seat next to him.
"I'm James Potter," James said, extending his hand to the boy.
"Sirius Black," the boy said, taking James hand and shaking it enthusiastically.
"Black? Are you related to…"
"More than likely. But I'd appreciate it if you did me a great favor and didn't remind me," Sirius said, his eyes darkening. James nodded. "Nice owl you've got there. What's its name?"
"Well," James said, studying the owl himself, "he doesn't exactly have one yet. My parents just got him for me when I got my Hogwarts letter. I don't know. What do you think would be a good name for him?"
"Hmm. Well, it would have to be something elegant, with poise and sophistication. A very intelligent name. I've got it! Sirius! It's perfect!" Sirius joked. James laughed with him. "Seriously though? I think you should name him Pluto," Sirius said, looking the owl in the eyes. "He's darker than any barn owl I've ever seen, and looks like he's got some sort of secret or something there just behind his eyes."
"Alright," James said, liking the idea immediately, "Pluto it is!" They both laughed. The door to their compartment opened and they both looked up. A boy looked in and smiled. If James had ever thought himself skinny, it was nothing compared to this boy; he seemed to be made of nothing but skin pulled over bone. His eyes were sunken and a bit hollow. He had sandy brown hair to the tops of his ears and his robes appeared to be mended in some places.
"Hello." He greeted them in a quiet voice. "Everywhere else is…"
"Full, yeah, so we've been told," Sirius said. "Come on in." The boy looked relieved and dragged in a small trunk, also ripped in places, and pushed it under the seat he took beside Sirius.
"So, fellow, what's your name?" Sirius asked.
"Remus Lupin," the boy said softly.
"Well, Remus, I'm Sirius Black and the strapping lad across from you is one Mr. James Potter," Sirius said. James nodded at Remus, who smiled at him.
The train shuddered and pulled away from the station moments later. James and Sirius told them of the new name they had given James' owl. Remus laughed, and told them that he thought it was a wonderful name. A few minutes went by; the boys talked of Quidditch and their favorite teams, of their likes and dislikes, and of their families. Except for Sirius, who insisted that he'd rather eat a live rat than discuss his family.
"Really. I wish they'd just put me in an orphanage sometimes! Or give me a box and let me sleep on the street and beg for a few Bertie Botts Beans!"
"They can't be that awful, Sirius," Remus argued. Sirius slanted him a look.
"You'd be surprised." The witch with the food trolley came by and each boy bought several boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, some chocolate frogs, and a few cream pies. They all laughed when one of James' frogs escaped and climbed the wall of the compartment.
"Catch it, James! Oh, come on! You can do better than that!" Sirius yelled, urging James on. Remus merely watched, smiling. James, who was standing on the edge of his seat and reaching towards the ceiling for his frog, was surprised when the door opened.
He looked down. A very pretty girl stood in the doorway. She had bright red hair that went down her back, bright green eyes, and was smiling up at him.
Just then, his chocolate frog jumped down on her head.
James, who lunged to try and catch it before it hit her, lost his balance and fell forward. He let out a strangled 'Oof' as he landed on the girl.
She pushed him off her and stood. Her hair was now tangled and she was glaring at him.
"Sorry," James mumbled, standing up. "I was just trying to—my frog was—"
"He's an unforgivable klutz," Sirius supplied from behind him. James shot him a look over his shoulder.
"I'm really sorry. I'm…uh…I'm…"
"James…"Remus supplied helpfully.
"James Potter," James said quickly. The girl eyed him suspiciously.
"I'm Lily Evans."
"Uh…well…do you need somewhere to sit? There's plenty of room here!" Lily smiled and James felt his heart thump painfully in his chest.
"No, but I'm glad you have so much room." Lily turned around and said, "Come here, Peter. I've found somewhere for you to sit." James looked behind her.
A large, squat boy with blonde hair and large front teeth was cowering behind Lily. He smiled at James and stepped forward. Sirius groaned and covered his face with his hands, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'Nice going, Potter.' Peter's smile faltered as he looked past James to Sirius. "There's no where else to sit." Lily said sharply to Sirius.
"There's always the floor of the hallway," Sirius said, mocking her sweet, girly voice. Lily looked over at James. He stared at her, mouth open. Her eyes pleaded with him and he was lost in their endless green.
"Sure," he found himself saying. Lily smiled again and helped Peter place his trunk under the seat by James.
"Thanks so much," Peter said tentatively.
"By then, Peter," Lily said, touching his shoulder supportively. Peter smiled at her.
"Bye, Lily! See you around then!" James called after her.
"Bye, Lily! See you around then!" Sirius mocked him. Peter snorted with laughter.
"Shove off," James said re-taking his seat.
"Shove off, he says! Love-struck, James?" Sirius teased him.
"Not bloody likely," James said, his face flaming.
"I didn't think she was that pretty, honestly. But I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
Peter laughed again. "Eye of the beholder. Good one," he muttered. James and Sirius stared at him, then exchanged similar looks of disgust.
"I think we'd better change into our school robes," Remus said quietly, looking out the window. "I think I see lights from the school."
The other three boys crowded around the window to get their first look at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
