A/N: Well, here we go again. I sit down to work on one of my other fics, and this one comes out of nowhere. I've actually been wanting to do this for a while, it's the Marauder's (Harry Potter's parents and their friends, in case you weren't sure) story with a few OCs thrown in...just for good fun. Here is your introduction to the main characters and some of their past...yes, I have a unique—at least I like to think so--way of looking at some of them. I'm going to try to make this different from other Marauder's fics you might read...after all, I am adding two OCs. Speaking of which...:deep breath: I don't own any of the characters you recognize, but I do own Becca and Liz (Liz actually belongs to my cousin, Kerry, but I stole her for this story. HAH!). Anyway...I'll shut up now, and let you read. Please let me know what you think...I wasn't going to post this because of how many MWPP stories there are but...hell, I liked it! Any suggestions/complaints/annoyances/ canon disagreements (even though I'm using OC characters) are welcome in reviews! Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!
Sammy Solo
"JAMES! Get out of my room!"
"C'mon, Becky, why don't you chase me out? Or are you too scared?"
"Don't call me that!" Eleven-year-old Rebecca Potter's voice echoed off the walls as she leapt off of her bed and sprinted after her twin brother, James. James jumped through the doorway of her room, laughing hysterically, running backwards with his tongue poked out at his sister. Furious, Becca ran after him, not realizing until it was too late that James had set a trap for her in her own room. As she ran through the doorway, Bec tripped over a piece of string that she hadn't seen there. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, scraping her knee on the wooden flooring below. Just as she was about to get up, the second part of James's plan threw itself into action, dumping a bucket of cold water onto Becca's head.
July 31, 1970, was just another regular day in Godric's Hollow.
James leaned against the door of his room, clutching at the pain in his side from all the laughing. Bec glared daggers at him, and his laughter was suddenly cut off and replaced by a loud "OOF!" as the door behind him disappeared and he fell backwards. It was Bec's turn to laugh as James crawled out of his room, holding his elbow.
"No fair!" James complained. "I didn't use magic!"
"I didn't do it on purpose," Bec argued. "It just happened. Stop rubbing your elbow, it's just making it hurt more."
Becca pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain in her skinned knee. James flinched too, complaining, "Don't stretch it, that hurts!"
"Well, I can't just lay on the floor all day!" Becca replied. "What else am I supposed to do?"
"Well, you could…" James began, but was interrupted by a call from downstairs.
"James, Rebecca? What are you doing up there?"
"Nothing, Mum," the siblings chorused. Bec looked down at her soaked clothes, at James's room without a door, and hoped that Mum wouldn't come upstairs to check on them.
"Is everything okay?" Mum asked.
"Just fine!" the twins said together, exchanging hopeful glances that she would believe them without seeing for herself.
"Okay, you just better not be doing anything wrong. Come down soon, breakfast is nearly ready."
"Okay, Mum." James and Bec let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Now what?" Bec asked.
"We need to get my door back, or Mum's gonna be really mad. How did you make it go away?"
"I don't know, I just did. I was really mad, and then it was gone."
"Well…bring it back!"
"I can't! I don't know how I made it go away!" Bec repeated. James sighed and stared at his doorframe, wishing for the door to come back. Nothing happened.
"Okay, you go get changed so Mum doesn't see you got wet, and I'll try to figure this out." Bec nodded and ran into her bedroom, forgetting about the wire and falling over again. Both twins cried out as Bec hit the floor again.
"James! Move that thing!" Bec commanded, rubbing her now scraped and bruised knee.She shut the door behind her so she could get changed, and James disconnected his trap. A few minutes later, Becca emerged in dry clothes, her long, wavy, dark-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. James was still standing outside his door-less room, his hazel eyes squinted through his glasses as he concentrated.
"Figure it out yet?" Bec asked, standing beside him.
"Nope," James replied. "But I think maybe…"
"James, Rebecca! Time for breakfast!"
"Coming, Mum!" Becca yelled. "Quick, James, you think maybe what?"
"Well, you were really mad when it disappeared, so maybe you have to be the opposite of mad to make it come back."
"Okay, what's the opposite of really mad?"
"Um…maybe…maybe…"
"James, Rebecca, now! Don't make me come up and get you!"
"Coming!"
James and Becca both stared at the doorframe, beginning to feel desperate. They would both be in trouble if Mom found out that they were playing pranks and using magic…
"I'm counting to three! One…"
"C'mon, stupid door," James murmured at the doorframe. "Come back!"
"Two…"
"Come on!" the kids pleaded together. Boy were they going to be in trouble…
And as suddenly as it had disappeared, the door was there again. James and Bec turned and sprinted down the stairs, just as Mum reached "Th—"
"What took you so long?" Mum demanded. "Rebecca, why is your hair wet? And…oh dear, what did you do to your knee?"
"Um…I tripped," Bec explained honestly enough.
"Oh, come here, dear." Mum drew her wand from the pocket of her robes and did a quick healing charm on Becca's knee.
"Me too, Mum!" James said, coming forward and showing his bruised elbow.
"Oh, and what happened to you?" Mum asked, waving her wand and making the black-and-blue mark disappear.
"Um…I tried to catch Bec," James explained quickly. "But she fell too fast."
"Yup," Bec agreed. "He tried, but then he fell too."
"Mistress Olivia! The breakfast is getting cold!" came a squeaky voice from the kitchen.
Olivia Potter looked at her children suspiciously, but nodded. "As long as you're both okay. Now, go and get some breakfast." She ruffled James's already messy black hair and sent her children on their way.
"Okay!" Both kids ran into the kitchen for the morning meal. "Hey, Tinky!" they called in unison to the house elf who was still setting the table. Her green eyes lit up as the two children took their places at the table.
"Oh, good morning Master James, Mistress Rebecca, Tinky is so happy to see you!" the elf said, jumping up and down, making her floppy ears--one covered in an old sock that Dad had freed her with years ago-- hit her in the face.
"I told you, Tink, don't call me Rebecca!" Bec protested, digging into her eggs and hash browns.
"But Mistress Rebecca, is that not your name?" Tinky asked.
"Yeah, but I like Bec or Becca better," Bec explained through a mouthful of food.
"You could always call her Becky!" James teased, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Bec smacked him on the arm, causing him to spill juice on his eggs. "Hey!"
"That's what you get for calling me Becky!" Bec said triumphantly, continuing to eat her dry eggs.
"Morning everyone!" Bec and James turned around as Dad strode into the kitchen.
"Morning Dad!" they said together, James still trying to separate his juice from his eggs.
"Good morning, Master Harold!" Tinky squealed. "Can Tinky get the master some eggs?"
"No thanks, Tink, I'm going to be late, I'll just grab a piece of toast." Dad reached over his kids' heads and grabbed a piece of bread from the middle of the table, instantly toasting and buttering it with his wand. "Ah! The mail's here!" he noted as an owl flew through the window and landed on the counter. He strode over to it, taking the small pile of letters and giving the owl a bit of his toast. The owl hooted thankfully and flew back outside to find its own breakfast. "Looks like you two have mail," Dad said, turning and handing Becca and James each a letter.
The letters were addressed in deep green ink to a "Miss R. Potter" and a "Mr. J. Potter." The kids tore into their letters, all thoughts of food forgotten. James jumped from his seat as he read his letter.
"It's our Hogwarts letters! We made it into Hogwarts!" At this exclamation, Mum ran into the kitchen.
"They got their letters?" she asked her husband, and he nodded. "That's wonderful!" She ran to her children and hugged them both in turn, planting a kiss on both of their foreheads. When Mum had cleared out, Dad came over and hugged Becca, lifting her clear off the floor and twirling her around.
"I'm so proud of you both!" he said, grabbing James in a similar hug. Both children laughed loudly and immediately began talking of the fun they'd have at school. Harold hugged Olivia goodbye, then turned to his kids.
"Be good, you two, no getting into trouble today, and listen to your Mum," he commanded sternly, but a smile lit up his face as he hugged each of his children in turn. "Love you both; see you tonight."
"Bye Dad!" James and Bec said together, and with another smile Harold apparated out of the house.
"Well, let's have a look at your schoolbooks, then," Olivia said, taking the letters from her children. James and Becca Potter were going to Hogwarts: it was a truly magical day indeed.
Meanwhile, at Number Four Privet Drive in Surrey, it was a rather normal and un-magical day. Michael and Violet Evans, along with their two daughters, Petunia and Lillian, had just set down to breakfast when the mysterious creature began tapping at their window. Michael strode over to the window, staring disbelievingly at the…
"Owl?" he asked disbelievingly. "An owl, flying about at this time of day? And trying to get into a house?"
"Let it in, dear," Violet suggested. "Maybe it's hurt."
Cautiously, Michael opened the window. The owl flitted in, flying right past a confused Mr. Evans, a scared Mrs. Evans, and a horrified Petunia to come to a landing right in front of Lily. Lily stared in fascination at the strange creature before her: she'd never seen one up close before. The owl dropped an old looking piece of paper from its beak and hooted pleasantly. Lily smiled at the owl, pushing a long strand of red hair out of her eyes in order to get a better look. The owl hooted again, then, just as quickly and quietly as it had come, flew back out the window. Still amazed at the owl, Lily watched it flap its way out of her backyard, interrupted only by the harsh voice of her older sister from across the table.
"What is that?" Petunia asked, staring at the paper the owl had dropped.
"I don't know," Lily replied. Michael stepped back over to the table and picked up the paper. It turned out to be more than just one paper: an envelope, actually, addressed to "Miss L. Evans" in ink the same color as the recipient's eyes.
"Well, it's for you, Lily dear," Mr. Evans said, handing the envelope back to his ten-year-old daughter. Lily tore at the letter, her brow furrowing as she read its contents.
"Well?" Petunia demanded. "What is it?"
"I still don't know," Lily said, her voice sounding confused and distant. "It says I've been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that I should report to London on August the thirteenth with a parent or guardian so that I can be shown how to get my schoolbooks and other necessities. But there's no such thing as magic, is there, Dad?" She looked up at her father, questioning emerald eyes fixing on his.
"It's probably just a load of rubbish, dear," Michael said, taking the letter and crumbling it up. "Finish your breakfast and forget all about it."
But Lily couldn't forget about it. Within the next two days, a dozen letters arrived for her, all addressed in the same ink and the same handwriting, and all reading the same message: report to London on August thirteenth to receive your schoolbooks for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After Violet was surprised by one of the letters showing up in her mashed potatoes at dinner on the third night, Michael finally sighed and gave in. "Alright, Lily, we'll go to London on the thirteenth and settle this once and for all." Though still confused, Lily couldn't help but smile. Though she knew she was just being silly, she secretly hoped that the letter was right, that magic was real, and that someday she would learn to use it.
"Peter! Get up, you have mail!" Peter Pettigrew groaned and rolled over on his bed, pulling the covers up over his head. The morning sunlight of July 31, 1970 was streaming through the windows of his bedroom…it didn't matter; it was still too early to get up.
"Peter! Come on, dear!"
"Okay, Mum, I'm up!" Peter yelled back. He sat up in bed, wiping the sleep from his watery-blue eyes. He stood up and stretched toward the ceiling, his fingertips not even coming close to the whiteness above. He opened his door and descended the stairs, his small, skinny form barely making any noise on the old wooden steps. If he was lucky, maybe he could make it into the kitchen before…
"BOY!" No such luck. Making himself as small as possible while staying on his feet, Peter crept into the living room. There, settled in his chair in front of the fire, sat Peter's father, reading the morning edition of The Daily Prophet. At Peter's approach, he set the paper on his lap and glared at his son. "Well?"
"Well what?" Peter asked, unsure of what his father meant. It was a mistake, and Peter knew it immediately. He barely had time to flinch before the back of his father's hand had found Peter's face. Peter cried out and fell to his knees, grabbing at his cheek.
"Don't you talk to me in that ungrateful tone!" Mr. Pettigrew roared.
"S-sorry!" Peter stammered through a jaw that was throbbing with pain.
"Sorry what?" Pettigrew towered over his son, hand raised as if to strike again.
"Sorry, sir!" Peter immediately corrected.
"That's better," Pettigrew spat, sitting back down in his chair. "Now go, your mother was calling you."
"Yes, sir." Pushing back tears, Peter climbed to his feet and walked dejectedly to the kitchen, still rubbing his sore jaw. His mother was waiting there for him, wand already in hand.
"Come here, dear," she said, drawing Peter closer and healing his face with a touch of her wand. "Are you okay?" Peter nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed to a spot in the floor. His mother reached past the empty firewhiskey bottle from last night and picked up a piece of parchment. "Here, dear, you got a letter this morning."
Peter took the letter, addressed in green ink to "Mr. P. Pettigrew," from his mother's outstretched hand and tore it open. Suddenly, all thoughts of sore jaws were forgotten.
"It's my Hogwarts letter, Mum!" Peter exclaimed. "I made it into Hogwarts!"
"That's wonderful dear!" Mum exclaimed, hugging Peter tightly.
"What's all this?" Peter felt himself jump as his father entered the kitchen.
"John, Peter got his Hogwarts letter!" his Mum explained. His father glared down his nose at Peter, who stood still, his mother's arms still around him, staring at the floor, afraid of doing something wrong again.
"About time, the boy can finally start to make something useful of himself," Jonathan said harshly. "Let go of the boy, Miranda. He's ten years old, don't baby him!" Peter felt his mother's arms unwrap from him, and he was left alone before his father. He could feel the stare of those hard, brown eyes on the back of his head, but he wouldn't look up, wouldn't do anything that might get him hit again…
"Well, boy, don't just stand there, get dressed and get moving, you have chores to do," Jonathan commanded.
"Yes, sir." Still looking at the floor, Peter strode from the kitchen. As he ascended the stairs, though, he couldn't keep a smile off his face. He was going to school, away from his father's "discipline", to live in a truly magical world where he would find friends and finally be accepted.
On that very same morning, a small boy sat on his back porch, staring at the trees that made up his backyard. His deep blue eyes seemed be transfixed to the swaying of the leaves in the wind, concentrating on something that only he could see. He was rather small for an eleven-year-old, his sandy hair a bit out of place on his head. He shivered at the memories that came back to him as he looked into those trees. One long night, the pain he had felt, the torture he went through every month…
"Remus, are you okay?" asked a voice from behind him. With the quiet all around, anyone else would have been frightened by the sudden appearance of another person, but Remus had sensed his younger cousin, Elizabeth, coming before she had even stepped onto the porch. He forced a smile onto his face as the blonde-haired girl sat down beside him.
"Of course," Remus replied.
"Why were you up so early this morning?" Liz asked.
"I dunno, I just couldn't sleep. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
Liz chuckled a little. "It's okay, I fell back to sleep. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Remus loved Liz like a sister, but there was one problem that he always ran into when being that close to someone: you could never quite lie to her. Instead, he looked away, and answered truthfully, "I was just thinking."
"About what?" Liz inquired. Just as Remus opened his mouth to respond, he was interrupted by a man's voice calling to him from inside.
"Remus? Is Liz out there with you?"
"Yeah, Dad," Remus responded.
"Good," Richard Lupin said. "Come inside, both of you, breakfast is ready, and you both have mail."
Remus and Liz exchanged confused glances. They never got mail. Remus was, after all, only eleven, and Liz hadn't even turned that yet. Curious, the two children went through the back door and into the kitchen, where Richard Lupin was sitting at the small table with his wife, Marie. The adults had already set breakfast on the table, and as Remus and Liz took their usual seats they were greeted by envelopes addressed to "Mr. R. Lupin" and "Miss E. Lupin."
"What are they, Uncle Richard?" Liz asked, turning the letter over in her hands to examine the purple wax seal on the back.
"I'm not sure," Richard replied, a knowing smile on his face. "Open them up."
Both children ripped open the envelopes, curiosity getting the best of them. Inside each was a letter, stating the most exciting news either had ever heard.
"I got accepted into Hogwarts!" Liz exclaimed, her bright blue eyes glinting with excitement.
"So did I," Remus said, his voice a disbelieving whisper. "But…how? With my…my condition, how can I be…?"
"The new Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore sent me an owl also, explaining that you are just as important as everyone else, and that you should be educated as so," Richard stated.
"This means they'll be going away to school, right?" Marie asked, her muggle heritage showing through once again.
"Yes," Richard answered. "Our children are going to Hogwarts."
The next few minutes were a cascade of hugs and kisses, of congratulations and bright smiles. Despite his worst fears, his past experiences, Remus Lupin would be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
But somewhere inside Remus's head, a deep voice laughed. "Only a few more days, Remus," it growled in his ear. "A few more days, and you're mine once again. A few more days, and the monster returns…"
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, was quiet on that morning as the eleven-year-old, black-haired boy crept down the stairs. His grey eyes glinted with mischief as he tried not to make any noise descending the stairs. Maybe he could get to the kitchen before…
BOOM!
"AHH! What is that!"
Sirius gave up his quiet approach and sprinted down the flights of stairs, through the long hallway and into the kitchen, laughing hysterically.
"SIRIUS BLACK!" And this is where he paid for his fun. He sobered his face into his best innocent look—which never really worked anyway-- and turned to face the kitchen door. In barged his father, dark eyes flaring with anger.
"WHAT WAS THAT!" Menelaus Black demanded.
"What was what, Dad?" Sirius asked innocently, trying to hide the smile from his face.
"Don't play stupid with me, boy!" Menelaus commanded, pointing a finger right between his son's eyes. "You planted dungbombs in Regulus's room! What do you have to say for yourself!"
"Um…oops? How'd they get in there?" Sirius asked, not able to stop a sly smile from spreading across his face. Menelaus's fist immediately found his jaw, leaving a black-and-blue mark across his face. Sirius didn't regret it though, not for an instant. After all, he had to find some way to torture his family: they put him through enough.
"One more stupid joke out of you, boy, and I'll…" His father was cut off, however, as the door to the kitchen opened and a house elf with gray eyes and a long, large nose hobbled its way into the kitchen.
"Mail for you, Master Menelaus," it croaked.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Black said, taking the handful of envelopes from the elf's hand. Kreacher glared at Sirius as he walked by, contempt in his eyes. Sirius stuck his tongue out at the elf and laughed to himself as the elf's eyes grew wide at the obvious insult. Before Kreacher could say anything, though, Mr. Black shoved a piece of parchment into Sirius's hands.
"Don't know who'd be writing to you, boy, but open it." Menelaus even managed to make a phrase as simple as "open it" sound like a death threat. Sirius tore open the letter and read its contents, a smile once again lighting up his face. "Well?" Menelaus demanded.
"I got into Hogwarts," Sirius stated simply. He expected his father to be outraged that the school would accept such "undisciplined filth," as he had often referred to Sirius. But instead, Black smiled.
"Finally, a chance for you to learn the true way of life." Menelaus smiled down at his son, and for some reason that smile scared Sirius more than any glare or punch he had ever received from his dad. "Toujours Pur, Sirius. It's a lesson you'll learn quickly among your classmates and fellow Slytherins. Now, go upstairs and clean out your brother's room. If I find even a hint of those foul devices in there, you'll be sorry you were born."
Letter still clutched in his hand, Sirius made his way up the stairs and to his younger brother's room. Regulus was still coughing and waving green smoke out of his face as he exited the room.
"Sleep well?" Sirius asked, that sly smile finding its way back onto his face.
"You're going to pay for that," Regulus spat, glaring up at his brother.
"Oh, and who's going to make me? You?" Sirius laughed in his brother's face. "Hope you enjoy your breakfast, but I doubt you'll be able to taste anything besides dung!" Regulus scowled and walked away, storming down the steps. Darcy Black was close behind him, glaring wordlessly at her oldest son as she passed. Sirius opened the door to his brother's room and "accidentally" left it open as he cleaned up the remains of the dungbombs. So, Menelaus wanted Sirius to go to Hogwarts. For once, Sirius thought, he would obey his father's wishes. But in no way would he fall into all that Toujours Pur dung. No, he was Sirius Black, not like the other Blacks in his family, and he would make his own way through life.
That night, Sirius heard his parents come up to bed and cry out in disgust at the smell permeating their room. Oops, Sirius thought, grinning wickedly. I guess I should have closed Regulus's door while I was cleaning…