Mystery Men
Fanfic by Whispering Wind
The Marauders are Hogwarts' resident celebrities. But contrary to most teenagers' idols, this dastardly bunch of marauding menaces are a complete mystery to their fans. That is until the determined Lily Evans decides it's time every girl's fantasy "Prongs" should be hers. Now if only James Potter would leave her the sod alone!
Chapter I
Shadows flickered in and out of view as the bodies that cast them ran madly through the deserted halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was well past curfew, and outside the sky was purest black without a star in sight, leaving the only light to illuminate the fleeing figures the periodically spaced candles that hung in clusters from the tall arches that lined the school's majestic hallways.
Skidding around a corner, the four figures came sliding to a halt. For at the end of the passage they'd just entered, spaced perfectly evenly between each wall, and placed neatly beneath a candelabra sat Mrs. Norris – Hogwarts' resident cat, and the caretaker Argus Filch's familiar – her gaze intent on the four mischief makers.
Turning on their heels, the four dashed back the way they came before stopping suddenly as though met by an invisible wall. There was in fact no wall halting their progress, magical or physical, but rather the hunched form of Filch, his sweaty palms with their bone like fingers clasped around an old Muggle oil lamp.
Thinking quickly on his feet, the first of the four rammed his shoulder into the seemingly solid wall beside him triggering a chute to open beneath his companions' feet sending them racing toward the laundry house below. Momentarily off balance from the force of impact, the bespectacled youth barely managed to dive into the quickly sealing cavity that recently appeared in the paved stone floor before one of Filch's claws managed to latch onto the back of his lapel.
The four boys tumbled out of the opening in a large explosion of flying garments. Eyes darting around to make a mental stock take of his compatriots, the leader grinned at the vision of his best friend with a particularly frilly pair of pink polka dotted knickers secured diagonally across his forehead, and nor could he resist the small quip that sprung to his lips as he turned to the rooms only exit.
"Pad, old mate, you could've told me all those rumours about only wanting to get into a girl's pants were more literal than they first appeared."
There wasn't time for a retort, Filch knew exactly where the small gang of trouble had escaped to, and would be hot on their trail.
Gasping for air, the four misguided (and proud of it!) youths staggered through the portrait door, and into their commons, collapsing on the first things they could find to support their weight.
"Bloody hell Pete, you've got to cut back on those chocolate frogs! Next time you might not be so lucky, and we less inclined to save your sorry little ass from Filch's cane!" an exasperated Sirius Black admonished.
It was said half in jest, but the look of hurt and betrayal that flashed in the portly boy's eyes was very real.
"Come off Sir' (A/N: Pronounced "Sear")," – Pant – "If it hadn't been for Peter we'd have never managed to get into the Slytherin dorms to begin with. Makes sense they wouldn't notice another rat in their midst," interjected the satisfactorily grinning James Potter.
As morose as Peter Pettigrew looked before, he seemed to positively glow under the praise of his ringleader, emitting a boyish giggle; whether with pleasure at the positive attention, or at the joke wasn't evident.
"It's surprising the Slytherin's haven't cottoned on to how we're getting in by now. We've been using the same method for years: in slips Wormtail through the barest of cracks as the portrait of Paracelsus swings shut behind the last serpent through the door. Then all Peter has to do is bide his time, and open the door for us all to sneak in to do our dirty work," chimed in Remus Lupin who had managed to sprawl himself upside down across one of the richly embroidered armchair that decked out the cosy Gryffindor room.
"One things for sure though, it'd be nice to have a map so we could see where that bastard Filch is," mused the now steady breathed James.
James Potter's cheek splitting grin widened even further as he saw the laughter dancing in Lily Evan's captivatingly bright green eyes. Leaning back into his chair, 'life could not be better' he thought, as with eyes closed he mouthed the words, "Mischief managed."
On the other side of the Great Hall, the Slytherin's were – judging from the looks on their faces – in a much less jovial mood. (Not that a jovial Slytherin had ever been spotted in the thousand years the school's doors had been open.) Never the less, it was safe to say that Slytherin's didn't appreciate the colour pink. Especially when it was oozing out of miniature purple volcanos that had sprouted out of their skin in the form of a pus like substance.
The four culprits, who had been dubbed by Hogwarts' Headmaster – the excentric Albus Dumbledore – as "The Marauders", and had (quite liking the name) chosen to adopt it as an official title, were careful to join in with the wild speculation as to their own identities. Not wanting to let the proverbial cat out of the bag just yet.
A/N: I'm taking a break from writing my other story, which due to a severe lack of reviews; I've lost almost all inspiration to continue, to write this intendedly short LxJ fanfic. I'm aiming to wrap this whole thing up in 3-5 chapters. But with a lack of reviews, I am prone to give up on stories… so if you want to read more of this, ensure more of it is written with your review .
Sneak peak at a future chapter:
"But that's not possible! Prongs is smart, and brave, and charming… and cute," the last was said with such finality, that it could be observed to any that to Lily Evans, the very idea of it also applying to James "I'm God" Potter was preposterous.
"I hate to break it to you Lils, but so is James."