Gigi94: Thank you! I love writing James and Sirius, and their meeting also made me laugh, hehe. You're absolutely right, the signs are there, and the war is finally starting to take shape…

FantasyDreams: Thank you very much. You summarized James and Sirius perfectly. I'm glad you like them, too!

Three: Beginnings

Wonder what Sirius is doing now? James wondered idly, sitting on top of his trunk and chewing the last of the Fizzing Whizbees that he had snuffed from Sirius's pockets. Well, he sure isn't enjoying this Whizbee…it's a good one, too – makes your tongue really fizz – ouch, wait, too much fizzing…

As James was fanning at his mouth, which had abruptly felt like it was on fire, Mrs. Potter stuck her head into the hurricane-ridden place called her son's room. Models of Quidditch brooms were flying all over – one barely missing Estelle Potter's eye as it made its way to the glass box of magically enchanted deer ferociously battling with their antlers – posters of a zooming Quidditch team, the Proud of Portree, were plastered around the walls, while models of dueling knights and fiery dragons ambled on the floor, inventing James's version of King Arthur's last battle (the dragons were winning).

"James, darling –" Mrs. Potter began, before jumping out of the way as one of her garden gnomes floated past her in another glass box, crossing its arms and grumbling.

"He tried stealing my stash of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start Fireworks, Mum," said James in his defense as he saw his mother's surprise. "I think he was trying to blow up the garden again."

"Right…well, thank you…for that," Mrs. Potter replied, half in confusion as she saw the gnome wave its wrinkled fist at her. "Now, where did you get those Fizzing Whizbees?" she added, eyeing the crumpled wrappers lying around James's socked feet.

"Friend gave them to me. So, are we going yet?"

Mrs. Potter cocked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. "Yes, as a matter of fact we are…your dad is just getting his set of gobstones from the basement to give to you."

James's face lit up instantly. "He's giving his set to me? What made him change his mind? He's had those ever since he was my age, as he always reminds me whenever I ask if I could play with them."

"Just shows how much he'll miss you while you're away at school, I suppose," said Estelle, examining her son as he turned his face away while he picked up the wrappers from the floor. "You're coming back, darling, you know that. We're not sending you off forever."

"Yeah, and I'll love Hogwarts, I'll learn how to control my powers, I'll have a lot of friends, blah, blah, blah," James mimicked in an uncanny imitation of his mother's light voice. "Tell me something I don't know."

"No need to take that tone with me, James Potter," Estelle warned. "We can always stuff you in the attic like Edmund Blewett's parents did when he said he didn't want to go to Hogwarts. They couldn't get him to leave it afterwards – Edumund became friends with the goblin accompanying him in there."

James made a face and stood up, digging his hands into his pockets and looking up at his mother with eyes that drove daggers into her mother's heart. "Fine, I'll go. No complaints, promise."

Smiling, his mother encircled her arms around him and kissed the top of his notoriously messy hair. "Thank you. But I must say, I'm touched to see how much you care about your old mum and dad, not wanting to go off to school."

"It's not really that…although, I will miss you guys and everything," James said quickly, noting his mother's hurt gaze, "A lot, really. But - I almost beat Larry Skrimwit at gobstones last Friday, and I know I could really do it if I get another chance!"

A streak of hilarious laughter threatened to spill from Estelle Potter's tightened mouth, but she managed to maintain her face as serious as her son expected it to be. "Well, maybe with your father's gobstone set, you'll be able to when you get back for Christmas Holidays, darling."

But if she had looked an extra second at her son's face, she would've noticed the trace of sadness that stifled James's hazel eyes' usual vigor as he cast his mother a look which, to the shrewd observer, seemed as if he was trying to engrave her smile into his memory.

"Mind you don't get into trouble."

"And we mean that, James."

"We really, really mean that, James Potter."

"Really, really, really –"

"I get it already," James snapped, fussing with his hair with one hand while his other held a small, bulging canvas bag. Hope my stuff doesn't spill out…I crammed it in pretty tight.

As if he had been reading his son's mind, Mr. Potter demanded, "What's in that bag, son?"

"Last minute things I forgot to pack," James responded instantly. "You know I always forget things."

"Not really, but I'll let you slide with that one, seeing that this will be a while before we you again," Tomas Potter said, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "James, I'm sure you'll do wonderfully at school. You are one unique young wizard, m'boy. Take care of my gobstone set, will you? I beat Eileen Prince in my sixth year with that old set, and it's never lost me a game," he added, a note of pride creeping into his voice.

"Hope it'll get me some go – some experience, then," James grinned, mentally smacking himself. No need to tell the parents about my money making deal…

"We'll write to you every day, and we expect responses back," Estelle Potter added, forcing herself not to straighten James's Muggle shirt (which screamed "POWER TO THE PEOPLE!" in such bold, purple letters that several Muggles had been shaking their heads at them before they entered Platform 9 and ¾) and instead digging a few sickles out of her purse. "None of this "Hey, wish you were here" rubbish, all right? Here, some money for you, just in case you need anything, darling."

"Thanks, Mum," James said, trying to smile as his parents bent down to hug him simultaneously. "Thanks, Dad, for the gobstone set…I'll do you proud. See you soon."

"Yes, see you soon darling," Mrs. Potter swallowed, waving as James picked up his trunk and retreated several paces back.

"'Bye –" James nodded, still walking backwards with his trunk into the bustling crowds and almost bumping into a harried boy who had been hastening to the crimson Hogwarts train. "Ooops, sorry."

The boy nodded in distraction and continued to hasten to the train, which was now beginning to bellow curling whisps of smoke as its wheels started to slowly move.

"Good-bye, James – don't forget that one of the gobstones really squirts some nasty stuff if you ever get in a fix!" Mr. Potter added, beaming and putting an arm around his wife.

James flashed them one of his winning smiles that never failed to give him a smile in return. "I won't," he called, turning and running to the train, hitching the rail just in time before the locomotive swept off the platform amidst waving parents and children and into the clear blue sky stretching across the endless horizon.

Remus Lupin slid onto the carpeted, moving floor of the Hogwarts train with a relieved sigh just as it began to speed away from King's Cross Station, only moving aside his lanky legs as a boy – actually, the one he had collided with just before the train had set off – jumped onto the train with his trunk banging after him as it was chugging away. Seemingly unaware of Remus, the boy with the messiest hair Remus had ever seen slung a knapsack over his shoulder, picked up his trunk, and whistled off-key as he walked into the corridor, replete with chattering and laughing students, all fresh from summer holidays.

Staring after the boy wistfully, Remus heaved himself up. Wish I could be that calm and confident, he thought, straightening his robes that his grandmother had so meticulously ironed earlier that morning. He smiled despite his overwhelming anxiety as he picked up his small trunk that he had somehow managed to haul with him just as he caught the train. She never did put aside her Muggle habits, even if she married a wizard...but now, as she would say, it's time to face the music.

Remus walked into the crowd of students, breaking into an open half-smile as he met any of them in the eye while he looked for an empty cabin. Each one was entirely full, but the ones that weren't didn't seem very welcoming, as several students (specifically one group of fourth-year Slytherins with a pale blond boy giving him antagonizing glares) didn't offer their empty seats with open arms. Nonetheless, Remus didn't exhibit the humiliating realization that has crept into the mind of anyone who feels left out and alone: he might be stuck outside of all the cabins and labeled a loser for his entire school career. Instead, he held his head high and continued his meager search at the end of the corridor, his gray eyes nervous.

Finally he reached the very last cabin and peeked inside the slightly open door. Empty. Well, better to sit alone in here than stand outside with no one to talk to. Shrugging, he entered the cabin, pulling his trunk behind him, and abruptly stopped, noticing the messy haired boy gazing at him curiously. An assortment of fireworks, dungbombs, Fizzing Whizbee wrappers, stink pellets, and a Grow Your Own Warts kit was lying around him and spilling onto the floor.

"I know you," said the boy, pushing his thin glasses on top of his head and then back onto his nose, which looked as if it had been through the mill with the faint scratch marks upon it. "You're that bloke who bumped into me at the station, right?"

Remus frowned. "It was you who bumped into me," he replied, stepping further into the room and heaving his trunk onto the top shelves. The boy immediately jumped up to help him, and together they succeeded in placing Remus's small, elegant iron trunk next to the smart dragon-hide one of the boy's.

"Thanks."

"No problem. So yeah, it was you who bumped in to me," he declared, as if this was the final word. But he was grinning as he stuck out his hand. "James Potter, at your service."

"Remus Lupin," said Remus, grinning back and feeling as if his nerves finally decided to take a rest from the conga for now. He joined James in the cushioned seats of the cabin, each boy sitting across from each other.

So…small chat…exactly what I dread… But Remus's eyes drifted, like any other normal eleven year-old boy's, to the colorful tools at James Potter's feet. "Planning to take over Hogwarts?" Remus asked in interest, examining a bag of belching powder.

"Just trying to make this year a bit interesting," James shrugged, handing Remus a box of dungbombs. "These actually explode silently, pretty useful. Get one if you like. I told my parents that I wouldn't cause any trouble, but…. wait, I didn't promise anything," James pondered, flashing Remus a smile. "They asked me to, but I told them to keep quiet. I can use these, then," he went on, happily picking up a stink pellet and smelling it, instantly making a face and laughing.

I guess I should reach out, too…I should make friends…and I want to, but…oh, who cares. Putting down the box of dungbombs (though he had stashed one, just for fun), Remus took out his prized collection of Chocolate Frog cards from his robes' deep pockets. The total number amounted to well over two hundred, a collection of all the cards that ever mattered to an eleven year-old boy, even the most rare ones. Carefully opening the rusted iron box, Remus handed it to James.

"Whoa…" James's jaw hung wide open as he examined each card, chuckling at some, staring enviously at others. "You've got all of the best ones, mate! What, did your dad give you his old collection?"

"No, collected all of them myself," said Remus, trying to hide his evident pride. "Dad doesn't like chocolate frog cards…but my grandmother bought me almost all of them. She gets a big kick out of chocolate being healthy for you in the magical world."

James cast him a quizzical look as he was holding a card featuring Merlin who was watching a fly pass by overhead. "When is chocolate not good, then?"

"Oh, you must be a pureblood," Remus chuckled. "I'm half. My grandmother's Muggle, you know. In the Muggle world, chocolate is the reason for loads of diets and acne. Big problem, it is."

"Really? Must be annoying. Oh, wait, I've been looking for this one for ages!" James exclaimed, holding up another card, this one figuring a scowling wizard that gave Remus a particularly scathing stare. "This is Hargoth the Brave! 'Hunted down and eliminated packs of werewolves from 1256-1315, cutting down the werewolf population by half. Rewarded with the Order of Merlin, first class.' Where'd you get it, mate?"

Remus's normally relaxed face hardened as he met Hargoth the Brave's glittering eyes. "I forgot I had it, actually," he replied in a cold voice, avoiding James's questioning look. Figures he's just like everyone else…why should he be any more different than all the gits back home? He had been looking forward to Hogwarts ever since the Headmaster had promised Remus he would have a normal education; Remus had dreamt of a life far different than the one he had been chained to for the past three years…but it seemed like his past was shadowing him even here.

"This is a really rare card," James went on, holding it up to the light. "'Course, I don't really have a thing for mass murderers, but it's the knowing that you're keeping an uncommon card that's worth getting one at all, isn't it?"
Casting James a quick, appraising gaze, Remus folded his arms, watching as James checked the inscription on the back again. "Yeah, I guess so…you can keep it, if you like."

"Really?" James asked in surprise, laughing as Remus grinned and nodded. "Excellent. I'll put this one in with my own Merlin one. Snatched that one from Larry Skrimwit, possibly in the only game he's ever lost," he added, stuffing Hargoth the Brave into his canvas knapsack, not noticing Remus's relief as he did so.

"So, you don't agree with what Hargoth did?" asked Remus, affecting a casual tone.

James debated as he flopped down on his seat, stretching his legs and placing his arms under his head. "My dad's an Auror, and he knows about dark creatures and all that. He's always told me that werewolves are some of the most misunderstood creatures, though he didn't particularly explain why. I haven't met a real werewolf, and I can't say whether I want to meet one, would you?"

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hand reaching to touch the left side of his neck as if by instinct, where a jagged, long scratch ran diagonally over it, though it was hidden by the collar of his robes. "No, most definitely not."

"I say I can't judge one until I meet one," James finished, staring at the whitewashed ceiling above them. "It's only fair. It's not like they were asked to be bitten, and I hear werewolves are not often, if ever, controlled when there isn't an Auror around."

Not knowing whether to laugh in joy or gape at James in shock, Remus's face paled from mixed emotions instead, and he cleared his throat, as if this would clear his racing thoughts. I can't believe it. So he's not like everyone else. I just…can't believe it. Yet, a small, dark voice mocked him. But if he only knew he was talking to a real werewolf, you know what his reaction would be. He's throw himself out of this racing train before spending one more second with you…

"No, he won't," Remus muttered to himself, half in doubt, half in faint assurance as he glanced at James and looked out the window, where rolling hills undulated at a tearing speed while the Hogwarts train made its way further to Hogwarts.

"What'd you say?"

"Erm – I said, 'No, you can't just have one of my cards,'" Remus explained as James sat up. Remus dug into his Chocolate Frog Card box again, and drew out one card that made Remus smile widely.

"I think you'll like this one."

James took and examined it, his eyes brightening. "Wow, this is another rare find! Meldorne the Magnanimous…it says that he 'organized a campaign to fight for werewolf rights from 1299 to 1320…it succeeded in providing human rights to werewolves when they possess their human form.' Brilliant! Thanks, Rem."

Arching his eyebrows at his new nickname, Remus nodded and hid a grin as James stowed this card in with his others. Maybe this can be a normal year for me, after all...maybe.

This is going to be such a normal, boring year, James yawned, following Remus and the rest of the boisterous students out of the train, which had come to its ultimate stop at Hogsmeade station. The clear sky that had greeted him that morning had now darkened into the shadowy violet color that sunrises tend to leave behind them, a mixture of day and night slowly melding into one another. The faint twinkle of stars, the dim light of the crescent moon, and the various lamps scattered around the station were the only sources of light, until a large lantern brightly lit the path in front of them. Only until James bothered to see who was holding up the lantern did he understand the reason for the gasps and murmuring that had erupted amongst the first-years surrounding him, including Remus, who was standing next to him and staring at the figure with wide, curious eyes.

"All right then!" bellowed the towering, pole-like figure in a raspy voice that reminded James of someone who had had a cold for too many years and never got better. "Well, well! First years, gather 'round! I said, first years, come here!" Once the man, whom James still couldn't see very well, observed that the first years had obeyed, he held up the lantern, revealing a face quite contorted and strange if it hadn't been for the lopsided smile on his face. Eyes that seemed to want to pop out stared at the first years with shrewdness, while wrinkled, leathery skin hung off the man's tall, bony frame. A squashed nose resembling that of a pig, a chin clutched in the middle, and an earring in the shape of a small bone hanging on his right ear finished the man's unusual appearance.

"Who are you?" demanded a familiar voice several paces in front of James, who squinted to get a better look, but to no avail, for there were too many heads in front of him to see.

"I'm the one you're going to listen to," barked the man. "Name's Ogg. I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, and I have proper identification in case you need it, sonny. Or, if that's not enough for ya, I can just leave ya here while I take your friends to the school!"

Not getting a response however, Ogg nodded and lifted his lantern so that his bulging eyes could examine each worried and excited face. "Follow me, or die!" When this was received with extreme alarm, several screams and much fainting all around, Ogg hastily added, "Literally, of course – there's some nasty critters about after dark!"

"Nice bloke, isn't he?" Remus whispered as they all trailed after Ogg with reluctant steps.

"At least he's interesting," said James, examining the back of Ogg's cloak, which seemed to be sewn in a variety of different colors and material.

"Yeah, so interesting that I don't know if he was kidding about that death threat or not," Remus muttered.

They continued walking into the spreading darkness of the evening and arrived at a side area of the station where, on a small river, bobbed about a dozen boats awaiting them.

"Get in, what are ya waiting for?" Ogg ordered, waving his hand in frustration. "You want me to push ya in? Be a bad joke if any of ya couldn't swim, eh?" he chortled at his own gag, looking immensely pleased with himself as he followed the students and got into his own boat at the head of the league.

Each boat was capable of carrying three, so James and Remus weren't surprised when a black first year boy crawled inside with them, looking as calm as if he was used to taking twilight boat rides to castles. Nodding and smiling at them, the boy leaned back in the boat, quite at his ease.

"My name's Isaac Thomas. You are?"

Both James and Remus introduced themselves, not bothering to avoid their looks of envy as Isaac Thomas continued to look about him as if he had been there before. As a matter of fact, he had.

"My dad's a school governor, so he's taken me to Hogwarts loads of times," Isaac went on while Ogg told them all to beware of water monsters as the boats began to sail. "I only live with my dad, so he had to pretty much drag me everywhere. I've even seen a sorting."

"Is it true that we're going to be quizzed on everything we know before the school even considers accepting us?" James asked in interest. Maybe I still have a chance of busting out of here! I know practically nothing, after all. Should be put to some use.

"No, they just stick a hat on your head to place you in the correct House," Isaac shrugged, chuckling. "It's pretty simple, really."

Darn it.

"Where are you hoping to be sorted, then?" asked Remus. He also seemed quite carefree. James had a feeling that Remus didn't lose his head that easily, and he had to admit that he admired him for that…. and especially for his Chocolate Frog Card collection, which he had sworn to beat one day.

"Ravenclaw," Isaac replied immediately. "I'm not a coward, but I really do prefer books than facing things I'm scared of, I have to admit. What about you?"

Remus made a face. "Ravenclaw, I suppose…no offense or anything. My family's all been sorted into that House ever since I can remember. Everyone says your House placement usually goes by your ancestors' placements. I guess I'd like to break to tradition. What about you, James?"

"Don't bloody well care," James said. "Just as long as it's not Slytherin."

"Definitely," Remus and Isaac said at once.

The boys continued to prattle on as every other first year did as well, with Ogg humming an old Scottish ballad off-key, slapping the sides of his boat in tune so hard that he almost tilted it into the water. Gradually, the illumination of the heavens were joined by speckles of light glittering over the gentle ripples of the lake, reflecting the glowing lights shining from a lofty, ancient-looking castle up ahead, its turrets stretching into the night sky like reaching hands.

"Little dwarves, I present you Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Ogg shouted; though he didn't need to, because as awe-filled silence had enveloped the first years, causing even the blasé eyes of Isaac Thomas to twinkle with excitement and hope.