"And so," Lily was saying, "if you've any more questions about your schedules, you can come to me and I'll do what I can to make sure we work something feasible out." She smiled kindly at a new fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect, and tucked her quill behind her ear. "Are there any more questions, then?" No one raised their hand, and she nodded, satisfied. "All right then. Vance, Jones, I'll ask that you take this end of the train, and continue patrolling it until we arrive at Hogwarts. We've only a few minutes to go, really, so let's see…" Her eyes moved around the compartment, analyzing the students before her. "Let's have Dearborn and McKinnon take the last half." She nodded to the four students, who left the compartment, heading towards the ends of the train they had been sent to patrol. "I suggest you all go over your schedules more thoroughly, and check for commitment conflicts—I'd like to get all the snags ironed out before the term gets rolling."

The students began standing up, stretching and yawning, and slowly filed out of the compartment, taking bags and quills and parchment with them. She stopped to talk with a fifth year Gryffindor named Richard Bell for a moment, assuring him that it would be simple to arrange his schedule around Quidditch. James gave her a dirty look, folding his arms testily across his chest. He was captain, after all—what right did she have to speak to him about Quidditch?

"Right," Richard said, looking relieved as he readjusted the strap of his bookbag to better fit his height. "That'll be that, then. Thanks, Lily!"

"Don't worry about it, Richard," she said, smiling. "Do have fun with your group of firsties!"

He laughed, and waved, exiting the compartment.

"Bye then," James said sarcastically once he'd gone, waving half-heartedly. He stood, sliding the compartment door shut with more force than was necessary, and turned to Lily. "What was that about?" he asked angrily, his cheeks pink.

"I'm sure I've no idea what you mean," Lily said coolly, shuffling papers about as she tucked them into a folder that was neatly labeled with a white sticker and read: LILY EVANS, HEAD GIRL.

"Bollocks," James said fiercely. "You know exactly what I'm referring to! Making me look like an idiot with no authority whatsoever, as though I've no idea what I'm doing!"

"You haven't any idea what you're doing," Lily said, her voice icy. She swung her heavy bookbag over her shoulder, coming dangerously close to James' midsection, and crossed her arms belligerently. "You weren't even a Prefect. You have no experience or qualifications, and you set a notoriously bad example for the younger students with your cruel and juvenile pranks. I'm beginning to think perhaps Dumbledore is going senile."

"Dumbledore is not going senile!" James roared, clenching his fists angrily. "Just because I'm not some bookish swot does not mean I don't have qualifications for the post!" His face was slowly progressing to a rather vivid shade of puce, and he was breathing heavily through his nose. "And my pranks are not juvenile."

"Oh yes," Lily said scathingly, flipping her hair over her shoulder with disdain. "Blowing up people's heads and dangling your enemies by their feet is just so lofty and mature. I expect you ought to receive an Order of Merlin any day now for that one."

"You've no right to—"

"Any only 'bookish swots' become Prefects?" Lily barreled on, ignoring James' outraged protests. "I'm sure Remus will be quite happy to know he's a bookish swot. He'll appreciate it greatly! Perhaps we can sit around in the common room together, discussing the Method of Transfiguration and being general tossers!"

"I did not say you were—"

"But perhaps I'm too swotty even for that!" Lily continued, glaring viciously. "In fact, I suppose I'm just too bookish to even be held in your oh-so marvelous company."

"I never said—"

"Oh, go throw yourself in the lake!" Lily shouted, sweeping out of the compartment and sliding the door shut in his face angrily.

XXXXX

By the time the Hogwarts Express began pulling into Hogsmeade station, Lily had calmed down considerably. Changing into her school robes had done wonders for her mood, and she felt cool and in control again.

There had to be something about him, she mused, that made her lose it like that. Something inherent in his nature, perhaps, something that pushed her buttons to the point of overload. He was infuriating to the last. Lily tended to think of herself as a calm, rational, reasonable person, but James Potter… He drove her completely and utterly mad.

She made a frustrated noise and, smoothing her robes about her, slid open the compartment door, and stepped out into the hallway. Immediately, she was accosted by several small students, first years, who were confused and panicking.

"It's all right," Lily said soothingly, steering them towards the exit. "Just step down onto the platform, there'll be someone calling for the first years. You just go with them, and they'll make sure you get up to the school."

"But what about our trunks?" asked one small red-headed boy, wild-eyed and panicked.

"Don't worry about it, they'll be taken care of. Just make sure you get down on the platform and—no, don't run! You won't be left behind! Just wait—calmly—until you're directed where to go."

They nodded and scurried off, and Lily smiled. They were so innocent, so fresh-faced and eager, ready to begin their career at Hogwarts. She remembered how excited she had been to start school. The first trip to Diagon Alley with her parents had been so terrifying, even with their guide. It had been a large group of Muggle-born students and parents, all nervous and confused, exchanging Muggle pounds for Galleons, wide-eyed with amazement when they first stepped through the Leaky Cauldron and onto the street. It had been that day that Lily's mother had purchased the family owl, Frederick. When the shopkeeper had asked if they would have any trouble keeping it in a Muggle household, Francine had firmly shaken her head and insisted that "if this is the way to send post while Lily's at school, we'll manage somehow".

It's hard to believe it's my last year at school, Lily thought to herself, glancing around the train. There'll never be another first day again.

Resolutely, she gathered her bag about her, and stepped off the train, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. If it was her last year, she was going to make damn sure it was her best—James Potter or no.

XXXXX

"And now," James was complaining, hand over his eye, "I can't see out of this eye, and she thinks I called her a bookish swot!"

"You did call her a bookish swot," Remus pointed out mildly, gathering his things as they readied themselves to step off the train. "And me as well, actually."

"I didn't mean it!" James protested, trying to shove a large box of Dungbombs into his bag while still nursing his eye. "And then she told me to throw myself in the lake!"

"It would only be fair," Remus said, still infuriatingly calm. "After all, you've tossed her in enough times."

"That was second year!" James bellowed, slinging his bag over his shoulder violently.

"Ah, but a good prank never dies!" Sirius piped up, looking abnormally cheerful. "Perhaps if we tossed her in again she'd cool off a bit."

"We are not throwing her in the lake!" James said, slamming the compartment door open and stomping out. "I will find some other way to deal with this. She will go out with me!"

Remus sighed, and Peter echoed him, shaking his head.

"He's never going to learn, is he?" Peter asked, frowning. "She's going to hate him forever and we'll be stuck hearing about it until we're too old to duff him up anymore."

"I shall never be too old to duff Prongs up," Sirius insisted, walking out of the compartment. Remus and Peter followed, and they stepped off the train and onto the platform. They watched James as he began rounding up several third-years who were mouthing off to the station manager, shooing them towards the looming figure of the gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid. One of them tried to scurry off, and James gave a war-cry, veritably tossing the younger boy across the platform.

"Do you… think Dumbledore is perhaps a bit mad?" Peter asked uncertainly as they observed James disciplinary skills. "I mean, James? He's our mate and all, but Head Boy?"

"I suppose he was thinking of third year," Remus said, frowning. "But yes, I think he's possibly quite insane."

They watched James telling off a fourth-year who had stealthily removed a Dungbomb from his pocket, and looked to be trying to drop it in an elderly witch's shopping bag. James scolded him for a moment, then apparently began to teach him the proper way to light and discard a Dungbomb without being seen. Remus sighed deeply, and Peter shook his head.

"Barmy, I'm sure," Sirius said happily. "But all the better for us, eh lads? I expect we'll scrape by without a single detention this year! We've got connections, now."

"Oh dear," Remus said, looking quite forlorn.

"Come on Moony, chin up!" Sirius said, grabbing Remus' arm. "On to the carriages! Don't want to keep the feast waiting!" He dragged Remus across the platform towards the horseless carriages that awaited the students outside the station as Peter followed, struggling to keep up.

XXXXX

"Lily, over here!"

Lily turned about, and saw Gwenog Jones, another Gryffindor seventh year girl waving out the window of one of the carriages. She waved back, and made her way through the crowd, stopping only briefly to tell off the same fourth year boy from the station that'd had the Dungbombs for running. She climbed into the carriage, where she found Alice, Dorcas, and Marlene already inside and seated together, as well as the seventh year Ravenclaw prefect, Hestia Jones, who was sitting next to the window. Gwenog scooted over on the seat, and Lily sat down next to the door, pulling it shut and setting her bag in her lap.

"So, how was the meeting?" Alice asked. She was tying her short blonde hair back, and made a noise of frustration as several strands slipped out of the band. "Urghk! I knew I shouldn't have gotten a new style."

"It looks lovely, Alice," Lily said, grinning. "But I did warn you you'd hate it."

"You were right," Alice conceded, giving up. "I will never doubt you again, oh wise Lily."

Lily laughed, leaning back in her seat. "The meeting was fine, except for bloody Potter."

"What'd he do now?" Gwenog asked, making a face. She had always had a sore spot where James was concerned, ever since a rather heated debate fifth year in which he had loudly proclaimed that girls were unfit to Seek in Quidditch. "Being a prat as usual, I assume?"

"Of course," Lily said. "He was going on about how he deserves to be Head Boy—when we all know it should have gone to Remus—and how he'd 'done plenty' to earn it. Bollocks, in my opinion."

Marlene scoffed. "Potter's barely done a single thing to deserve being alive, never mind being Head Boy."

"Just ignore him, Lily," Alice said, leaning across to pat Lily's shoulder.

"Alice is right," Hestia agreed, looking sympathetic. Not being a member of Gryffindor house, she didn't know James all that well, but she'd heard enough about him throughout the course of her friendship with Lily to understood very well exactly how obnoxious he could be. "He only does it to rile you up."

"Yes, I expect so," Lily muttered, taking the comb Alice had offered and running it through her thick red hair, wincing when it caught a tangle. "He's quite talented at it, at any rate."

"Practice, I'm sure," Gwenog joked, sucking on a Sugar Quill.

"Urgh, let's not even talk about him," Lily said, waving a hand dismissively.

The carriage started moving, jostling and bumping along in the line, and the girls all held on to the edges of their seats.

"So, what's this Alice tells me about a French Uni student?" Marlene said, grinning. "Bit of excitement over the hols, hm?"

"A Uni student?" Hestia asked, raising her eyebrows. "Muggle, or wizard?"

"A Muggle," Lily said, fingering the locket. "His name is Raoul… He promised he'd give Mum letters to post to me, so perhaps I'll get one soon."

"Show them the locket!" Alice said, giggling. "He's fit as all get-out, I'm telling you."

Lily obliged, leaning forward so her friends could crowd around, making like "oooh" and "ahhh" noises as photo-Raoul strutted about his picture, brushing his hair back from his face and grinning seductively.

"Sweet Merlin," Gwenog breathed, staring at the photo. "Now there's a face to take home to mother!"

"And I'll tell you," Lily said, grinning cheekily, "I didn't take him home much. Mum went into convulsions, dithering about the place. I think she rather fancied the idea of having a younger man about the house."

"Oh!" Hestia said, suddenly laughing. "I forgot to tell you! You know my great-great-auntie, Elspeth? Well, she's gone and gotten engaged!"

"At her age?" Dorcas said, aghast. "Aren't there some sort of laws preventing that?"

"No, no," Hestia said, laughing, "the best part is this: he's twenty-five years old!"

Lily burst out laughing, as did all the other girls in the carriage. They had all had the good (or not so good, depending on your interpretation) fortune to have met Elspeth Jones over last year's Christmas holidays when they'd come to stay with Hestia for a few days, and it had been an experience to remember. The older witch was crude, vulgar, and held nothing back, always saying what she felt the moment a thought popped into her head. She was wickedly funny, but could be alarming if you weren't expecting it. "The privilege of old age," she had called it, and patted the Hestia's elder brother, Paul, on the bum.

"But she must be at least a hundred!" Alice said, looking as though she wasn't sure whether to be amused or horrified.

"One hundred and seven next month," Hestia laughed, shaking her head. "There's some life left in the old bird yet, I imagine."

The girls took a collective moment to glance at each other, then broke out into peals of hysterical laughter, and continued giggling all the way up to the castle.

XXXXX

"Did you see which coach Evans is in?" James asked Sirius, peering out the window of the carriage he was sharing with Remus, Peter, and Sirius.

"Second from the bend in the road," Sirius said absentmindedly, leafing through a Zonko's catalogue. "Hell-lo, look at this! Zonko's has a new line of trick quills in!"

Next to Sirius, Remus rolled his eyes. He enjoyed a good prank as well as the next bloke (though perhaps not as well as the particular bloke beside him) but trick quills and vanishing parchment were just not something he was amused by.

"Really, Pads," he said, leaning over to have a look at the ad, "I'd have thought you'd be bored with those by now. It's not as though you haven't used them—no one would take a quill you lent them anymore, anyway."

"But that's not the point," Sirius said, pouting. "They enhance morale!"

"Not the morale of the unlucky sod whose quill explodes all over his Defense Essay," Remus chastised.

"You, Mister Moony, are no fun," Sirius said, jabbing Remus in the chest with a finger. "No fun at all."

"Yes, well, someone has to keep you lot under control," Remus said, and Peter giggled loudly.

"Do you think Evans is still angry with me?" James asked, still trying to see the carriage she was in from the window.

"Yes," was the unanimous answer, chorused loudly and by all three of his friends.

"Shut up about Evans already," Sirius said, kicking James in the shin. "We've got planning to do, you know."

James perked up immediately, still rubbing his shin. "Right! What of the feast, then? Have we anything—"

"James," Remus interrupted with a sigh, "are you seriously considering pranking the feast?"

"…Yes?" James said, looking confused as to why Remus would possibly doubt for a moment what he had in mind.

"Oh dear," Peter said, mimicking Remus' sigh.

"What is wrong with you lot?" Sirius said suspiciously, looking from Remus to Peter.

"You tell him," Remus said to Peter, looking utterly exhausted. "I can't bear another moment."

"Well, Lily's quite angry with you still," Peter said, looking to Remus for approval. Remus nodded, and he continued, "So by playing a prank at the feast, she'll only be angrier when she finds out it was you—and she will, you know, she always does."

"Oh, bollocks," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Prongs, you're not really considering—"

"He's right though," James said, anguished. "I'll have to hold off."

"Oh for—" Sirius said, looking furious. "You've got to be joking me!"

"Oh, it is a tragic, tragic life I lead," James wailed, banging his head against the carriage window.

"At any rate," Peter continued, pleased his last lecture had gone so well, "you're Head Boy now. So you probably shouldn't—"

"Shut it, Wormtail," James said testily, stopping his self-abuse to look at Peter.

"Right," said Peter meekly. "Shutting up, then."

They spent the rest of the short ride not talking, the only sounds punctuating the silence being Sirius' woeful sighs and the banging noises as James continued to slam his head against the window.

As they stepped out of the carriage, Sirius surveyed the castle fondly, seeming to cheer up a bit.

"Well, lads, it's our last year," he said, stretching his arms as if to hug the school. "We'll have to give it our best go, to ensure that the Marauders go down in Hogwarts history!"

Peter cheered a little, and even Remus smiled, a slow sort of grin that started at the corner of his lips and spread across his face. James whooped, and jumped on Sirius, and together they ran lopsidedly up to the castle, with Remus and Peter trailing behind.

"This is going to be the best year ever, isn't it Moony?" Peter said, grinning like a small boy.

"I certainly hope so, Pete," Remus said, ruffling his friend's hair. "I certainly hope so."