Chapter 3: The Marauders.

At around nine o'clock the next morning, Harry woke and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He opened them and was surprised to see the homey interior of the Gryffindor common room until he remembered last nights events.

Pillow fight. That was great. We should do it more often.

Bemusedly, Harry sat up and looked around the room. Danger was sprawled out on three pillows on the floor; Ginny had fallen asleep half-sitting up next to him; and Ron and Hermione, on the couch opposite him, had apparently shifted during the night. . . Definitely some good teasing material there, he thought with a grin.

A few minutes later, Danger woke with a start. "Oh, hi, Harry," she said rapidly. "I had the weirdest dream last night . . ." And was that a blush?

A few seconds later, it faded as Danger clutched her hair melodramatically. "Argh! And I dreamt this poem last night, and I can't get it out of my head!"

"Maybe you should say it, then," suggested Harry.

Danger recited the poem.

"Did that make any sense to you? It's still bothering me, maybe I should write it down . . ." Danger fled to her dormitory to do so. (She had bought her school supplies at Diagon Alley the previous weekend.)

A few minutes later, she returned, much calmer and clutching a sheet of parchment. "That seems to have done it. I have a feeling that wasn't exactly a normal dream."

Harry shook his head. "I know, but I don't know what it is. I suggest you ask your hypersmart sister when she wakes up," he said, smiling a bit but still pensive.

"I dreamed some other stuff, too," said Danger. "Some flashes of color—some orange, but always connected with the word red—flashes of people's lives, and a couplet: Black to red and red to brown / Shall truly bring the darkness down."

Black to red and red to brown. . . Harry considered the words carefully, then looked around. "Could that be me referring to me and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione?"

"I suppose so," said Danger. "I really don't know much about it at this point."

"And what about the flashes of people's lives?"

"Well, there was a group of four—Remus, one kid that looks like you, another black-haired one, and a sort of mousy-looking one—"

"Those are the Marauders," explained Harry. "The one that looks like me is my dad, James Potter, the other black-haired one is Sirius Black, the mousy one is Peter Pettigrew. . ."

"I think what I saw was from your timeline, because it showed stuff after school—a couple of marriages, a baby—you, I think—your parents gave you a birthday party every month for six months, you know—"

Harry grinned widely at that; he always snatched whatever tidbits he could about the loving care he was sure he'd had but never remembered. "What else?"

"And then it goes all bad." Danger shivered. "One of you—Peter, was it?—goes over to the Dark. To a really evil guy who looks like a snake gone wrong."

"Yeah, that's Voldemort."

"Anyway, I think Peter had good intentions—he thought Voldemort was going to win, and he wanted to make sure his friends didn't suffer when it happened—but he just got into it too far. He never seemed like he wanted to tell Voldemort things, but at times it seemed like Voldemort could read minds."

"He can, actually," said Harry with a grimace. "Or something. It's called Legilimency; he can tell when people are lying to him, hiding stuff."

Danger winced. "Well, Voldemort found out that Peter had been made the Potters' 'secret-keeper', whatever that is—"

"Fidelius Charm. Tell you later."

"—so Voldemort forced him to say where they lived. And he did. It wasn't pretty." She shuddered. "And then Voldemort attacks, your parents die, but somehow—you survive. And you grow up. And if I EVER see those people who raised you, I am going to tell them a thing or too!" Danger waved her wand threateningly.

Harry definitely appreciated her indignation on his behalf. "Feel free." He smiled. "Anything else?"

"Just flashes of your time at Hogwarts. First year, facing Voldemort out the back of someone's head; second year, in this creepy underground chamber with a phoenix against a huge snake; third year, talking to Sirius—but he looked horrible—in some broken-up room; fourth year, dueling Voldemort with your wands connected to each other; fifth year, when Sirius fell through some veil; sixth year, watching this greasy-haired Death Eater blast Dumbledore off a tower at Hogwarts—" She broke off, seeing the expression on Harry's face.

Harry found it extremely odd to be hearing about his experiences from someone who didn't know any of their context. The events of his first three years of school hadn't been particularly traumatic, and Danger hadn't actually mentioned Cedric in her description of fourth year, which made it bearable—but then her casual mention of the deaths of the two people closest to him brought the pain back to the surface. He looked stricken for a momemt, then buried his face in his hands, thinking about the people he had lost.

Danger's concerned "What is it?" brought Harry back to reality. He shook his head and cleared his mind. I'll see them again. Heck, Dumbledore I've already seen. But still . . . "You just mentioned the two most painful moments of my life. Seeing Sirius die, killed by his own cousin, and Dumbledore, killed by his Potions professor, Snape, the one person he always said he trusted—it's just all a bit much. Dumbledore's funeral was less than three months ago for me."

Danger looked mortified. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," he reassured her. "You couldn't have known. You didn't even know anyone's name until I told you." Except Remus . . . but she's not mentioning how, and I'm not going to ask. She seems to be embarrassed about it. Was my teasing really that bad?

"So why did I dream these things?" asked Danger.

"I don't know. Again, ask your hypersmart sister. But I have a feeling you have a part to play in whatever's going to happen, and this was to help you understand what we'd been through."

"Makes sense."

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, until Hermione opened her eyes. She apparently realized where she was lying, because she immediately jumped up, blushing.

"Sit down, Hermione, the damage is already done," said Harry, grinning wickedly.

"Oh, hush. Anyway, what are the two of you talking about that has you so upset, Harry?"

It was Danger who answered. "I had really weird dreams last night. A poem—I'll get to that later—and flashes of the Marauders' lives and Harry's. Talking with Harry confirmed that they're true. Harry said to 'ask my hypersmart sister', so I will: Any ideas?"

Hermione considered it carefully. Finally she offered, "I think you're something called a true-dreamer. They're incredibly rare, but they do exist. I guess it makes sense; because of your late awakening, you aren't as powerful in general magic—" Danger frowned, remembering her difficulties in Charms— "but you have special skills to make up for it. Quite possibly more than the true-dreaming."

"Like prophetic dreaming in bad iambic tetrameter, maybe?" Danger handed Hermione a piece of parchment half-covered with neat handwriting—the poem from the dream. Hermione took it wordlessly.

"Interesting," she said after a minute. "Very interesting. This definitely does look like a prophecy, though most don't rhyme like that. Did you hear it, or see it, or what?"

"I heard it. It was a male voice, seemed rather young. Any ideas what it means?"

Hermione scanned the parchment again. "Lots of animals . . . do you think they might be Animagus forms?"

"Animagus?" Danger sounded confused, so Hermione explained about the wizards who could transform into an animal at will. "Probably. I don't think a real hawk or cat would be fighting darkness, or that we would need to worry about trusting a real stag and dog—"

Harry cut her off. "Hold on, stag and dog? What's the line, exactly?"

"For, in time, dog and stag gain trust," read Hermione.

"That's it!" exclaimed Harry. "My dad and Sirius are the stag and the dog. I know they're pretty much gits at this point—this is right after Snape's worst memory," he amended, and then realized Hermione had no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, bother, I'll explain later. I guess this means something will happen that makes us trust them, or makes them grow up, but we have to be patient."

Hermione was nodding. "And my form is a cat—I don't know the transformation, but I've done the scrying spell—and I guess Ron's might be a hawk, it seems fitting somehow . . ."

"And 'saved through time' is you guys," said Danger. "I wonder who the 'canines two' are?"

"Well," said Hermione, "they're people we'll make friends with right away, so that rules out James and Sirius. One is you, Danger, it says that plain as day. The other is both a dog and a lion—huh?"

"Werewolf with an Animagus form, maybe?" suggested Harry.

"That'd be it!" exclaimed Hermione. "Remus! I guess he's a lion Animagus!"

Interesting that Danger doesn't seem surprised by the revelation that Remus a werewolf.

"Well, that's it, then," said Harry. "We don't know any of the rest of it. And I thought of something last night, Hermione—in this timeline, your parents are dead before you'll be born, so how do you exist?"

"But in the timeline we came from, I existed just fine. Think about it, Harry—what would happen if you went back in time an hour and told your future self not to go back?"

Harry thought for a few seconds and concluded, "There'd be two of me?"

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Wizards are incredibly superstitious about time. There's no such thing as a 'temporal paradox', because a paradox by definition can't exist. Although there's probably something I'm missing, I know we don't have to worry about erasing ourselves or anything."

"That's a relief," said Harry. "Let's go to breakfast. I'm starved."

Danger and Hermione agreed. "Oh, Ro-on," sing-songed Hermione. "We're going to breakfast! If you don't wake up, you'll miss it!"

Ron, who had been snoring loudly a minute ago, woke up instantly.

Meanwhile, at Potter Manor, two very popular, very good-looking, and very mischeivous boys were waking up as well. Their propensity for sleep was as legendary as Ron's, but that wasn't going to be causing any problems today; today, September 1, 1976, their sixth year at Hogwarts began.

James Potter, a hazel-eyed, bespectacled boy with very messy black hair, was the first to rise, and he immediately set to work waking up his friend. "C'mon, Padfoot! Get up! We're going to Hogwarts!" he yelled, shaking him.

The object of all this excitement, Sirius Black, James' best friend and the proverbial white sheep of his very Dark family, simply rolled over as if to shield himself from the light, muttering something suspiciously like "five more minutes."

James grinned wickedly. "Padfoot, if you're not up in ten seconds, it's the water bucket for you . . ."

Sirius didn't seem to hear. Ten seconds passed with no reaction, so James grabbed his wand and waved it at him. "Aguamenti!" The ice-cold water had the desired effect: Sirius woke up very quickly. However, it also made Sirius quite upset with James—good-naturedly upset, but upset all the same.

And it certainly seemed that James had forgotten the damage a large wet dog could do.

Sirius jumped off his bed, transforming mid-jump into the big black Grim-like dog that was his Animagus form, and Padfoot started shaking himself as soon as he hit the ground. Water splattered everywhere in the room and especially on James. "Enough! Enough!" James yelled, laughing. "You win!"

Padfoot transformed back into Sirius. "That was fun."

"For you, maybe," scowled James as he muttered a drying charm. "But seriously, we have to pack. Train leaves in an hour and a half."

"Fine," Sirius grumbled, and the two boys got to work.

An hour later, James, Sirius, and James's parents Charles and Paige pulled up at King's Cross Station in a Ministry car. Charles Potter was an Auror, and quite a successful one at that; use of the car was one of his benefits.

As Sirius got out of the car and grabbed his trunk (his parents had refused to allow him a familiar after he was sorted into Gryffindor), he couldn't help but reflect on the turn for the better his life had taken over the past month.

End of July, Mother just snapped. Told me I wasn't fit to be a Black, and that if I wasn't going to 'shape up' I could just get out of the house. When she threatened to Imperius me, I realized that might actually be a good idea.

So I went to James's place and his parents sort of adopted me—not officially, just caring for me and letting me stay there and stuff. Sirius never had told James how much it meant to him, but it did mean a lot.

And maybe there are more important things for us to be worrying about than pranks . . .

Sirius quashed that thought instinctively; the Marauders' troublemaking had kept him sane through his family's hatred of him, and he wasn't about to stop now. It's too much fun.

James and Sirius rounded the corner to platforms 9 and 10, looked around furtively for any overly curious Muggles, and finding none, immediately broke into a run straight for the very solid-looking barrier between the platforms. They passed through without a scratch onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters—and were almost immediately accosted by Remus.

Remus Lupin, "Moony" to the Marauders, didn't have all that many friends in the world. This was as much his doing as anyone else's; Remus was a werewolf, had been since he was six, and he always seemed to assume the worst about people's reactions. As such, he had never dated, never had a girlfriend, never even really allowed himself to have close friends—except the Marauders, and they had found out about his lycanthropy themselves, confronted him with it, and told him they didn't care. That meant more to Remus than he had ever said, and he had said a lot about it, but it didn't change his views about the rest of the world.

Forcing these pessimistic thoughts from his mind, Remus ran and greeted his friends. "Hi, Padfoot, Prongs. How was your summer?" They had exchanged letters, of course, but some things just had to be told face-to-face.

"Fine for me," said James (Prongs). "Played some Quidditch with Padfoot, did the bare minimum amount of homework, managed to generally amuse myself . . . and get showered with water when I tried to wake up Padfoot today." He leveled a mock glare at Sirius as he finished.

"And you, Sirius?"

"Ran away."

"WHAT?"

"Ran away," he repeated. "Dear old Mum pretty much threw me out, actually. Said I wasn't fit to be a Black, threatened to Imperius me if I didn't start behaving . . . it was too much for me to take. James's folks were great, though, they practically adopted me."

"Well, it's probably better that you're out of there, anyway," commiserated Remus. "I can't count the number of times you used to complain about them . . ."

"Ah, ah, Moony." Sirius wagged his finger like a parent with a naughty child. "I can still complain about them. They've been idiots enough for a lifetime of complaints."

"Fair enough," said Remus with a mild laugh.

"I just wish Regulus had gotten out of there too." Sirius sighed. His brother, Regulus, only a year younger than him, had been as receptive to his family's prejudices as Sirius wasn't, in spite of all Sirius's attempts to get him to see the truth. He was a good Slytherin, friends with Snape, and Sirius was pretty sure his brother was on the fast track to be a Death Eater.

I really doubt he knows what he's getting into. Regulus has never been the evil sort. Not like my cousin Bellatrix, Lestrange now, the most sadistic Death Eater b— er, witch, you've ever seen . . .

I tried to get through to him, I really did. For a while I thought it was working, but now he just tunes me out. Sirius really wanted to punch something, but refrained; they were still on the platform.

James broke the silence. "Have you heard from Wormtail at all the past few weeks, Moony?"

Remus shook his head. "Not since the eighth. I wonder why; he usually writes at least once a week . . . Do you think something happened?"

With the emphasis Remus put on the word 'happened', it was impossible not to know what he was talking about; Death Eater attacks had increased dramatically over the summer, and everyone lived in fear that their family would be next. Nobody referred to them, except obliquely, but they were on everyone's mind.

"Nah, I doubt it," said James nonchalantly. "You know Wormtail. Probably found something 'exciting' to do and forgot all about writing."

I wish he would give Peter a bit more credit, Remus thought irritably. He's as much our friend as the others.

Still, I can't say he doesn't deserve the jokes. . . sometimes.

James looked up and gave his signature lopsided grin; Lily Evans was approaching them. A vivacious, pretty, Muggle-born witch with red hair and distinctive green eyes, she had been the object of James's affections since third year—and had just as steadfastly hated his rather arrogant attitude for just as long.

"Hey there, Evans. How was your summer?" James's voice suddenly sounded deeper, more mature. He's using his 'charm' again, realized Remus in frustration. How long until he realizes it's not getting him anywhere?

"None of your business, Potter." Lily leveled a glare—her temper was as fiery as her hair—then turned her head and walked right past him. "I still haven't forgotten what you did to Snape after your O.W.L. last year."

James sighed and shook his head as Lily walked away. "What is it with her?" he asked Sirius.

It was Remus, though, who answered. "She doesn't like your arrogance. Stop trying to impress her and just be yourself—maybe you'll have more luck."

"I wasn't asking you, O Exalted Guru of Relationships. Padfoot?"

"You're hopeless, mate."

"Gee, thanks." James walked towards the gleaming red Hogwarts Express. "I'm getting on the train. Coming?"

Three Marauders, three trunks, and two owls made their way on board.

When they reached the very last compartment, they found Peter already sitting inside, looking glum but determined—completely opposite of his normal excitable, clumsy attitude. What happened? The three other Marauders entered the compartment and stowed their luggage appropriately. Remus took out his wand and tapped the upper-left hand corner of the window, saying "Molesti dei sunt."

The compartment ballooned to twice its normal size, with enough room for all four to lie down comfortably. Three astonished gazes met Remus's eyes; he chuckled.

After a few seconds, James managed to get some words out. "When'd you set that up?"

"Train ride back, last term." Remus was still smiling. "You guys were asleep."

"And what did the password mean?" asked Peter. That's a first; he's never seemed remotely interested in that stuff before . . .

"Latin for 'Marauders are gods'. Figured you guys wouldn't object."

Sirius expressed the opinion of all: "You're the best, Moony!"

Everyone made themselves comfortable. James was the first to speak. "So, Peter, spill."

"What do you mean?"

"What's up? We haven't heard from you for three weeks, you're not on the platform, and you look really different—you seem more determined, or something. Why?" James sounded worried.

Peter studied his fingernails rather intently. "My dad was a Death Eater. I didn't know, until one day—the 15th, I think it was—I woke up to find his dead body in the living room, with a note attached. Thus always to those who defy me, I think it said. Apparently he did something stupid and You-Know-Who killed him."

The three other Marauders wore stricken expressions. They may have been jokers, but even they had some sense of tact. "Oh, Peter, I'm so sorry," said Sirius.

"I'm fine. I've had time to grieve, and he wasn't exactly the best dad—he used to fight with me and my mom a lot, you know, basically arguing You-Know-Who's side. But still, I mean—he was my dad, you know? And I know he loved me, at least at one point."

Nobody knew what to say.

Finally, Peter spoke again. "I have his ring, his wedding ring. He stopped wearing it a few years back, around the same time all of this started—too much of a "taint" or something ridiculous. My mom gave it to me after he died. I think she hoped it would let me remember how he was before. I'm keeping it. And now I know just what kind of first-class bastard You-Know-Who is."

Silence again permeated the compartment. Nothing like this had ever happened. Sirius's parents were Dark, sure, but they didn't really have any redeeming qualities either. James and Remus were both only children with loving parents; they had never even considered that they might someday lose them. Other people, sure, but not them.

"Anyone for Exploding Snap?" asked Sirius cheerfully, getting out a pack of cards.

Professor McGonagall came personally to the Gryffindor common room that evening. While unusual, this event was not entirely unexpected by the common room's occupants.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Harry, looking up from the game of chess he was losing with Ron. "Here to escort us for the Sorting?"

"Indeed," she said sternly. "Follow me, please." The Professor led the five misfits out the portrait hole and through the halls. As they walked, she whispered to Harry, "Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your situation, and if you need anything feel free to see him or me. He told me to tell you you may tell those whom you trust."

"There's no need to whisper, Professor. Danger knows, and we trust her."

"Danger?"

"The non-time-traveling Granger's nickname."

The five were ushered into the same room they had waited in as first-years; Professor McGonagall was speaking again. "The wall there—" she pointed to it— "is illusory. Please wait behind it until you hear the first years enter the Hall. Now, I must be off to welcome them. Good luck." She left the room with a flourish.

Harry stepped through the wall first, and was surprised to see a slightly cramped but still comfortable sitting room, with several chairs facing the wall he had just walked through. "You can come through, guys, it's fine." He was soon joined by the four others; they all chose a chair and sat in it.

Ten minutes later, Harry heard Professor McGonagall making her customary speech. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said to the first years in her best lecturing tone. "As new students here, you will soon be Sorted into your Houses. There are four—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff, each with its own characteristics, and each has produced wizards and witches of great caliber."

Ron snorted. "Not Slytherin," he muttered.

"Shush, Ron, they can probably hear you," admonished Hermione.

Ron shut up.

Professor McGonagall continued her speech, discussing the House system and House points. Finally, she concluded, "The Sorting Feast will begin in a few minutes. I suggest you all do a bit to smarten yourselves up until then. When the doors to the Great Hall open, please walk through them. I will be seeing you shortly." She could be heard walking away.

"Remember when we were ickle firsties?" whispered Harry remniscently.

"Yeah," said Ron perhaps a bit too loudly, but the first years were still chattering like mad. "And Fred and George were going on about wrestling a troll, and Hermione was reciting all the spells she knew and making us feel stupid . . . Ah, memories."

"What about your sorting, Ginny?" asked Harry. "I don't think you've ever told me about it."

Ginny blushed a little. "Well, I think I was more concerned with getting in Gryffindor with Harry Potter than anything else." Harry smiled at her. "But I do remember, Luna was practically the only one not worried. She just said, 'What will come, will come,' or something. It calmed us all down a bit."

"And there's our cue," said Harry as he heard the doors grate open. "Let's go."

"Wait a minute," said Hermione. "We don't want to frighten the firsties by appearing out of nowhere."

They waited the requested minute, then stepped out into the waiting room just in time to hear the end of the Sorting Hat's song: "For Hogwarts is in danger," (Danger snickered) "From external, deadly foes. But let that pass, come try me on, I'll know where you should be; Just step right up, slip on the Hat, and leave the rest to me!" The Hall applauded, but Harry noticed James Potter giving him an odd look from the Gryffindor table.

I expected as much; he's probably freaking out over our similarities. Harry met James's gaze and gave him a wink, as if to say, Wait and see.

The first-years were duly called in alphabetical order; Harry didn't recognize any names until "Zabini, Richard!" Must be a relative of Blaise's. Richard went to "SLYTHERIN!" same as his nephew, or whatever the relation was, and Dumbledore stood up. The Hall went silent.

"Excellent. Now that all our first years have been sorted, I have the unconventional pleasure of welcoming five older students—one fifth, one sixth, and three seventh years. One is a latent witch whose powers burst out in the wake of her parents' deaths; the other four were victims of a Death Eater attack that destroyed their hometown. Please do endeavor to make them feel welcome here."

This was their cue; the five walked into the Hall in a line. Dumbledore sat down and McGonagall came forward again. The Sorting Hat was still on its stool. "When I call your name," she recited, "please step forward and put on the hat."

"Granger, Gertrude!" she called.

At the name, a dark-skinned girl named Aletha Freeman, a Gryffindor fifth-year, gasped, "Danger?" She got some odd looks from the people around her.

Danger walked forward, sat on the stool, and put the Sorting Hat on her head. "Hmm, an interesting one. There's intelligence here, certainly, and a willingness to work to get things done . . . and not a pittance of cunning, too, I see. You'd make a good Hufflepuff, but I think I'll put you with your friends in— GRYFFINDOR!" She walked to the Gryffindor table, grinning—then she noticed Aletha and her grin doubled in size.

"Granger, Hermione!" was almost immediately sorted into Gryffindor; then it was Harry's turn. "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry walked forward, James looked around at his friends. "He looks just like me!" he muttered. "Heck, he's practically my twin! I wonder where he'll go . . ."

The Sorting Hat had some choice words for Harry. "Ah, the second one. I don't think I've had a double Sorting in two hundred years. Hm . . . I see I recommended Slytherin for you last time, but it doesn't much fit anymore. You just want this war to be over—admirable, indeed, and you have the power to do it. With your heritage and your absolutely unheard-of courage, there's no place for you but— GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry walked to the Gryffindor table absently, still trying to figure out what the Hat had been talking about when it referred to his heritage . . . His footsteps led him straight to a few empty seats near the Marauders—apparently nobody was willing to risk the full brunt of any pranks they might play. Harry looked around; Hermione was sitting next to Lily, Danger, and a dark-skinned girl he didn't know. He took the empty seat next to James and waited for one of the Marauders to comment.

"Hey, I think I'm seeing double. Sirius Black, sixth year," said Sirius, extending his hand.

"Hello to you too. I'm Harry Potter, seventh year." He took the hand and shook it.

"Any relation of mine?" asked James from beside him.

"Well, considering my last name, probably, but we can't be certain. I was an only child, lived with an aunt and uncle in Ottery St. Catchpole after my parents were murdered when I was a year old."

"I'm sorry about your parents," said Remus quietly.

"Don't be. I don't need anyone's pity. I hardly remember them, I was so young. All I have are vague memories of a bunch of green light, and some photos from my dad's friends . . . So, what are the rest of you named?"

James, Remus, and Peter duly introduced themselves. Peter had a quiet determination about him that Harry thought seemed out of place. What happened? Can we trust him? Another thing we've changed?

"GRYFFINDOR!" yelled the Sorting Hat from atop Ginny's head; she came over and sat herself next to Harry. "James, Sirius, Remus, Peter—darn, I need something to call the four of you—"

"We're the Marauders," said Sirius with a cheeky grin.

"Okay, then. Marauders, allow me to introduce my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley. She's a sixth year."

"Pleased to meet you," said Remus politely.

At the Head Table, Dumbledore stood up and gave his customarily eccentric opening line. As he said, "Tuck in!" food suddenly appeared on all the House tables. Everyone grabbed some. Sirius dug in immediately—he's as bad as Ron, Harry thought as he watched him eat.

As he ate, James looked at Harry and Ginny oddly. "What is it?" asked Ginny.

"Harry, are you sure you're not related to me? My past five generations of parents and paternal grandparents have all married redheads. And you look almost exactly like me, except the eyes and that scar . . ."

"Oh, is that your excuse for getting Evans now?" asked Sirius cheekily through a mouthful of food. Harry looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah, we're destined to be together," said James sarcastically. "Seriously, though, I don't understand why she doesn't like me."

"Think about what she said after your Defense O.W.L.," reminded Remus. "You still don't seem to understand, so I'll put it in small words for you: Stop showing off!"

"Whatever," muttered James, and bit into a turkey leg.

Meanwhile, Ron, Hermione, Danger, Lily, and Aletha Freeman were sitting together—thanks to Lily and Aletha's informed choice of seating, they were as far from the Marauders as possible.

"Danger? Is that really you?" asked Aletha as soon as Danger sat down.

"Yep, it's me, Miss Never-Will-Go-Near-Roller-Skates-Again."

Aletha laughed, while Hermione looked confused. "I think I'm missing something here . . ."

"Ever wonder how Danger got her nickname?" Aletha grinned wickedly, bithely ignoring Danger's glare in her direction.

"Actually, I have no idea."

"Well, we went skating when we were eight or so . . . to make a long story short, Danger here fell over and managed to knock over half the other kids." She started chanting. "Gertrude Granger, She's no stranger, She's a Danger, To us all, Age of eight, She tried to skate—"

"Stop it," growled Danger. "Anyway, Hermione, I see you've met my childhood friend, Aletha Freeman. Please do try to keep her in line." She winked.

"So, what are you doing here, anyway?" inquired Aletha.

"I was a latent witch, and let's just say I had an extremely nasty shock that brought out my powers. You heard what Dumbledore said, I really don't want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry, Danger." She looked downcast, as did Aletha.

The appearance of the food broke the somber mood. "So, what kind of trouble are you getting up to here, anyway?" asked Danger after a few minutes of silent munching.

"Me? Trouble?" Aletha's expression was the epitome of innocence.

"Yes, you, trouble. Who glued five 50p coins to the sidewalk?"

"Oh yeah? Who put the frog in Mrs. Walsh's mailbox?"

"You did, I think."

"Whatever." Aletha waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm a Beater for the Gryffindor team. Sirius is the other one, and I swear he gets on my nerves more than anyone else—"

"Hold on a second," interrupted Danger. "Beater? Gryffindor team? What sport?"

Hermione looked at Ron, shocked. "You had two whole weeks to talk to her and you never told her about Quidditch? Ron, I'm impressed!" So, of course, Ron and Aletha had to explain everything to Danger, leaving Hermione to eat in silence.

Boys and Quidditch, I swear.

"So, how are the two of you related?" Aletha was asking Danger.

"Second cousins, I think," said Danger. And add 'good at lying' to the list of her many talents . . . "We didn't really know each other until we met here, but now we're great friends."

"Wait a second. How long have you been here?"

"Since the 11th for us," said Hermione, "and Danger since the 18th."

"I wish I could come to Hogwarts early," sighed Aletha. "There's nothing to do at home; I'm an only child, and it's not like I'm going to Floo Sirius and ask him for a game of pick-up Quidditch! I'm worried about my mum, though. She seemed sick all summer . . ."

And with that, the conversation deviated into more mundane topics—idle chatter between long lost friends, plenty of food, and general happiness all around.

Remus Lupin had often been told he spent too much time in the library for his own good. Sirius, especially, seemed to say that every day.

So why am I here now, before school's even started?

Well, he just had to look up something about password spells for the Marauder's Map . . .

Remus found what he was looking for and was walking out of the library when he noticed Harry and one of the other new girls poring intently over two enormous tomes.

Wonder what they're up to?

Harry looked up from his book as he heard Remus approach. "Hi, Remus. Hermione, this is Remus Lupin. Remus, Hermione Granger."

"Pleased to meet you," said Remus. "So, what are you doing up here so early in the term?"

Hermione didn't even look up from her book. "Research."

"About what?"

"Ways to defeat Voldemort."

Remus whistled appreciatively. Not only were they trying to figure out how to defeat Him—and they actually had an idea of where to start, apparently—they also quite casually said His name.

Hermione still hadn't looked up. Harry noticed this and smiled apologetically at Remus. "Sorry, she tends to get a bit engrossed in her books." Then, under his breath: "Like Hagrid's just a bit large." Hermione looked up, swatted him on the back of the head, then returned to her book.

"See you around, Harry. Good luck with your research."

"Bye, Remus." Then, as Remus was nearing the door, a whispered, "Bye, Moony."

One of the benefits of lycanthropy was enhanced hearing. Remus whipped around. "How do you know that name?"

"How did you hear that?" retorted Harry. "We both have secrets, you know."

"Fair enough." Remus turned and walked out of the library, adding another item to his mental list of strange happenings.

The new kids seem nice enough. And really powerful—I can practically smell it. I'm glad they're here.

Although I'm sure James and Sirius won't be . . .

Walking absentmindedly back to the Gryffindor common room, Remus was surprised, to say the least, to literally walk right into another one of the new students. What is it with those kids and the library?

They both stumbled a bit. "Sorry about that," said Remus.

The new girl—Gertrude, was it?—didn't respond, but instead looked at him oddly, eyes wide, as if trying to convince herself he was an illusion. Of course; she probably thinks I'm some bumbling idiot. Way to make a first impression, Moony.

Then, under her breath: "I married you last night."

"What?" Of all her possible responses to his absentmindedness, this was not the one Remus was expecting.

The girl blushed profusely. "Oh my God, I did not just say that. I did not, I did not. I did, didn't I?" Remus nodded, still confused. "I'm so sorry. What a way to start a conversation. Can we try again?"

Remus's expression was a bit bemused. "Of course." He took the time to look at her a bit more closely; she had quite a lot of bushy brown hair, much like Hermione—were they related? They looked like sisters—and appeared to be getting herself under control, with an effort.

She visibly calmed herself. "I had a dream about you last night. And I've heard your name before—Harry mentioned it—but I'm certain we've never met."

"I think I would remember if we had—Gertrude, was it?"

"Please, call me Danger, it's my nickname."

"Well, if we're on nicknames, call me Moony." Danger smiled at that. It almost seems like she knows the reasoning behind it, thought Remus, but that's impossible, and she wouldn't be talking to me if she did . . .

"I was just heading to the library; would you like to join me?"

"Gladly." And to think I was bored a minute ago.

They set off in the direction from which Remus had come. Remus looked at Danger; she seemed to be waiting for him to ask the obvious question, so he obliged.

"What did you dream?"

"Well, last night's was the most distinct, but it's been going on vaguely for weeks now, ever since—well, you know. At first it was just flashes of color, then words, and finally, last night, a story."

"Yes—you said a wedding?"

Danger smiled thinly. "Said more than that, didn't I? Yeah, I dreamed my own wedding, along with flashes of your—the Marauders'—lives; no words, just pictures, but enough to get a general sense."

"So how do you know our names?"

"I'm getting to that." She blushed a bit. "Anyway, the wedding—I was maybe eighteen or nineteen, a few years older than I am now, and there were eight people in the wedding party—Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, James, Lily, Peter, and a girl I don't know. And Sirius was best man, and Aletha was maid of honor. And I got to the altar—given away by Dumbledore, of all people—he lifted my veils, and I looked at the groom, and it was you."

Remus was wide-eyed. He said nothing, so Danger continued: "I was so happy to see you that I forgot I didn't know anything about you. And I grabbed your hand, and suddenly I did know—everything."

"Everything?" As in, everything?

"Yes, everything. Like the fact that you've always been the most responsible of your friends, and you don't make that many friends because of your, let's call it your 'furry little problem', and—"

Remus cut her off. "Hold on a second. You know—you know about my lycanthropy—and you're still talking to me?"

"Of course," said Danger softly. "Not everyone is a bigot, Remus. But you'll never be happy if you don't let anyone get close to you." She reached over and grabbed his hand, and Remus began to have some idea of what he had been cutting himself off from.

Danger continued to explain the dream. "It was incredible," she enthused. "I feel as though I've known you for years."

"Whereas I still feel like we've only just met." He smiled, and Danger smiled back; she still hadn't let go of his hand. I could get used to this. No wonder James and Sirius go on about it so much.

"We could always hope you have a dream just like it . . ."

"But what if I don't want to wait that long?" Remus's eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth. He took a deep breath and let it out. This is it. Come on, Moony, now or never. He took a few seconds to get the words in the right order—he'd never done this with anyone, but with Danger it just felt so right—and took the plunge: "Danger. . . students in third year and above are allowed to go to Hogsmeade, into the village, on certain weekends; the first one is in a couple weeks. Would you— would you like to go with me?" He waited with baited breath for her response.

Danger grinned widely, and Remus couldn't help but follow suit. "A date? Why, Remus, I thought you'd never ask. Of course!"

This was exactly what he had been hoping—and fearing—he would hear. On impulse, he leaned down to kiss Danger's cheek, but Danger saw what he was doing, and not doing, and she turned her head ever so slightly before Remus had a chance to react.

Their lips met.

Wow.

A few seconds later, they broke apart. Remus's eyes were still glazed over. "See what you've been missing?" teased Danger. "Come on, wolf-boy, let's go."

As they continued to walk, one thought rose to the forefront of Remus's mind:

I am seriously attracted to Danger.

He had to laugh as he realized the double meaning of that statement. Of course, Danger heard him and had to ask about it; when he blushed and steadfastly refused to answer, she thought about it for a few seconds and . . . "Let me guess: 'I am seriously attracted to Danger'?" She grinned wickedly.

"Well, it's true," defended Remus. "Some of the things me and my friends get up to . . . I make exceptions for obviously stupid stuff, like teasing a hippogriff, but still."

"What is a hippogriff?"

Stories of the Marauders, and of wizarding life in general, filled the next ten or so minutes.

"Well, are you coming in or not?"

Remus stopped short at the Fat Lady's slightly peeved question. He and Danger had, completely independently of one another, walked right past the library and in a sweeping circle back to the Gryffindor common rooms without even realizing it.

"Oh," said Remus and Danger quickly at the same time, "yes, we are." They turned to each other and cracked up laughing.

The Fat Lady's indignant mutter of "Teenagers. . ." could be heard clearly in the common room as the two walked in, hand in hand.

Two hours later, Danger, James, and Harry were the only ones left awake in the common room. Danger was reading something; Harry and James were both staring at the fireplace, deep in thought, though about entirely different topics. The former was considering everything that had happened since he had arrived here, and what might be done against Voldemort in this timeline. As for the latter . . .

He's probably daydreaming about Lily, sighed Harry. He stood up and was about to go up to bed when Danger spoke, a bit mystically and unlike her usual tone.

"Remember, by the place of your father's servant, to thank the one from whom your gift descends."

"Thanks, I think." Harry shook his head in confusion and walked up the stairs to his dormitory.

"What?" James asked Danger.

"Huh?" Danger shook herself out of her slight reverie.

"You said something," said James.

"I don't remember it." Danger frowned. "Whatever it was, it was meant for whoever heard it. Good night." She closed her book and carried it with her as she ascended the stairs to the girls' dorm on the other side of the room.

"Mental," muttered James, as he too retired for the night.

(A/N: Another chapter done! I'm rather surprised at how well some of the scenes in this one turned out; I hope you will be, too.

I'm going to try to keep to an update pace of two chapters a week; no guarantees, especially with school starting on September 6, but I'll do my best.

The character of Aletha Freeman belongs to Anne Walsh / whydoyouneedtoknow. The 'I married you last night' scene is based on something from Chapter 1 of LwD.

Anything you want to see that you haven't yet? Tell me so, and I'll try to include it.

Next Chapter: "The First Day." A class with the Marauders, a class with the trio, another bad DADA teacher, and a far-reaching confrontation with Snape . . . coming soon to a computer near you!

Now click that button—yes, that one, in the lower-left hand corner—and REVIEW! Even if you hated it, as long as you're constructive in your criticism, I want to hear from you. Again, I reply to everyone, so make sure you're logged in.

Thanks.)