Author's Note:
Welcome back! As you've probably noticed, this is the first official chapter and we're very excited to share it with you! Today, we're starting off with James, but since this story is about all of the Marauders, we'll switch point of views every chapter. Let's hope it won't get too confusing! :)
Happy reading!
New Beginnings
It was a stormy morning. Thick grey clouds sat gathered in the sky, filled to the brim with heavy raindrops which would occasionally plummet onto the roof of a house overlooking a hilly landscape.
The irritating tapping sound could be heard in nearly every room, but especially in the one with the window wide open. Someone had forgotten to close it yesterday, which meant the drops were steadily being carried into the room by the chilly wind blowing outside and wetting the feathers of the owl placed before it.
The owl hooted annoyed, obviously uncomfortable being stuck in its cage, while raindrops drenched it further, but the boy sound asleep in his bed barely noticed. He just gripped his blanket tighter and pulled it over his ears, so the only thing left visible was his unruly black hair.
His owl hooted again, yellow eyes glaring at the heap of blankets on the bed, as it tried ruffling its feathers to throw off the cold water. The boy gave a grumble, tucking himself fully under, after muttering something incoherent to his pet. This, apparently, didn't suffice as an answer and the owl let out a loud screech and flapped its wings against the metal bars in protest.
"Roderick, you bloody owl!" The boy finally jolted upright in his bed, as his hand shot out of the blankets to grasp his glasses from the bedside cabinet. "Can't shut up for once, can you?!"
He angrily lifted his blankets from around his body and slipped from the bed. The floorboards were cold beneath his feet, but he hardly noticed, as he stalked towards his desk to slam the window shut.
"Happy?" the boy asked, eyes glittering as he stared at the cage.
Roderick gave a satisfied hoot in response, settling into a more comfortable sleeping position again.
"Yeah, yeah. Go on back to sleep, it's not like you woke me or anything!"
He gave the owl one more nasty glance, before noticing the rain and wind had done more damage than he had originally thought. The wall by his desk, which was usually covered with old Daily Prophet articles about Quidditch, was now nearly empty. There were only tell-tale remnants of paper left and he immediately found himself regretting not being able to persuade his father to put them on with a Permanent Sticking Charm.
"Today's starting out great," he muttered underneath his breath, crouching down to look for the missing articles beneath his desk.
A knock sounded from the door and pulled his attention away from the task at hand, as a middle-aged witch entered the room. "James, it's time to get up, Honey."
Her eyes glanced at his bed and found it empty. "James?" she asked again, demeanour becoming slightly worried.
"Down here, Mum," the boy called, "You haven't seen my Quidditch articles around here, have you? The wind blew them away and I can't seem to find them."
His mother's face immediately relaxed, but she shook her head. "No, Dear, but we're going to be late if you don't come downstairs for breakfast."
James' eyebrows knitted. "Late for what?"
"Have you already forgotten?" she replied, a slight smile playing on her lips. "You're just like your father sometimes."
"The Hogwarts Express, Honey," his mother stated after a moment of silence and watched as her son's eyes widened.
After the shock had passed, James grinned widely and quickly stood up again from the floor. He decided he could look for the articles later, because right now getting to Hogwarts was his top priority, and so he hurried over to his mother and quickly pushed past her to reach the stairs. At the base of the staircase, James could already smell the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting towards him from the kitchen and he eagerly followed it into the rectangular room.
White counters lined the right wall and a wooden table with four seats stood a little left of it, where currently a man resided. His hair was a dark brown colour, but was mostly dappled with grey highlights and presently fisted with one hand, as the man grimly studied the newspaper held in his other hand.
"Horrible ... just horrible," he mumbled underneath his breath, completely oblivious to the boy excitedly walking up to him.
James let his eyes drift to the slightly crumpled Daily Prophet, which his father was holding so tightly and curiously skimmed over the printed lines.
Lord Voldemort Strikes Again
After the torture and eventual killing of the Muggle Minister's family last year in London, which revealed a rising dark wizard going by the name of 'Lord Voldemort', the dark activity in Britain has been steadily growing and worry spreading. As of the tragic events that occurred Saturday, the worry hadn't been falsely placed and the Ministry of Magic have their hands full yet again.
At around 9 p.m. Aurors Alastor Moody, Larkin Bottlebrush and Eleanor Cobbridge were sent to investigate a Muggle killing near the town of Harlow. They discovered three dead Muggles inside the family home and unusually the door had been locked from the inside. The surprise came in the form of writings left on the wall. We were told this by Moody, head of the investigation, when we addressed the topic. It was there that Voldemort called for arms and action against the 'filth we've let walk among us.'
This news is appalling and many are wondering, if this killing has any credible connection to the incident last year. How long will this terror continue and most especially, how do we keep ourselves safe in these dark times?
"Who's this Lord Voldemort they're talking about again?" James asked curiously from behind his father's shoulder.
"Never mind him," he replied with a strained smile, hastily rolling up the newspaper before James could read any more. "That wasn't for you to see anyway, laddie."
"Why not?" Came the whiny reply.
His father turned in his chair, worry lines appearing on his forehead for a moment, before he seemed to make up his mind. "Because some things are simply meant for adults to handle."
James opened his mouth to protest, eyebrows furrowed in defiance, but before he could say anything, his father quickly continued with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Besides, you're going to Hogwarts today and that's really all that matters now, isn't it?"
Hazel eyes brightened at the sudden topic change and James quickly moved to sit next to his father. "I still can't believe it! I'm really going to go to school there and I'll probably make loads of new friends and I'll get to watch the Quidditch matches with them!"
"Oh –" He held his breath for a second, "- maybe I can even join the team and I'll be their best player for sure. I just know I will! They'll be screaming my name every time I score!"
He moved his hands to cup around his mouth, pretending to be the audience. "James, James!"
This continued for a while until his mother's voice suddenly cut in. "You'll make your father's ears fall off if you keep screaming like that," she chastised, as she made her way into the kitchen with a fully-packed trunk floating behind her, "and you know it takes a long time to grow them back on."
James rolled his eyes at her, as the trunk set itself onto the ground and his mother dropped her wand back to her side. She tucked a stray black hair behind her ear, before moving to peck her husband's cheek.
"Good morning, Monty," she said and gently kneaded her husband's shoulder, while her eyes wandered to the discarded newspaper lying on the table. "Anything in the Prophet?"
His father's eyes turned sullen. "Page 45, Euphemia, it's horrible what happened to those Muggles."
His mother grabbed the paper hastily and shook out the crinkles. Her wrinkles seemed to deepen, as her brown eyes wandered the page with concern. Every once in a while, her eyebrows would shoot up in a display of horror, until eventually placing the paper back on the table, her face ashen.
Euphemia didn't say a single word, but continued shaking her head with grief, as she started pulling out the needed ingredients for breakfast with a flick of her wand. Eggs, bread and a number of other things whirled around in the kitchen, along with three plates gently placing themselves on the table.
The eggs cracked open in mid-air, making the yoke and egg-white drip into the pan with loud sizzling. At the same time, the bread began turning a rich gold-brown colour, until it plopped into the basket and got whisked away towards the table.
"I'm not really hungry, Mum," James argued, his stomach knotted with the amount of excitement he was still feeling.
Euphemia gave a slight smile. "I understand, but from what I heard you wanted to join the Quidditch team, didn't you?"
"So?"
"Well," his mother said, letting her wand direct the now finished eggs onto each of their plates, "Every Quidditch player I've ever known had to eat a lot to be able to perform their best out on the field. Don't you want that too?"
James shrunk into his chair at her words, but eventually thought it best to trust his mother. She was right after all. If he wanted to play good Quidditch he would need all the energy he could get. With a defeated sigh, he poked at his egg without much interest, but eventually stuck the whole thing into his mouth and smiled a wide yoke-filled grin.
"James Potter!" His mother frowned at him. "Haven't we told you to close your mouth while eating?"
"Leave the boy be, Euphemia," his father interjected, sending his son a mischievous wink. "He's just having a bit of fun."
His mother sighed. "I'm just saying, Fleamont, our son could show a little more mannerism while eating."
Father and son shared a chuckle at this, but said nothing in return, instead choosing to spend the remainder of breakfast in a comfortable silence, until Euphemia sent the plates to wash themselves in the sink and return to their place in the drawer.
"Time does fly, it's nearly eleven," she spoke with a quick glance at her wrist watch. "Better start getting the rest of your things together and get dressed, James."
The boy in question gave a quick nod and pushed back his chair, until he was free to race back up the stairs. His feet carried him down the corridor until he reached his door. His excitement was so great though, that when he pulled it open it hit the wall and left a dent in the plaster. Not noticing this, James strode to his desk the second time that day and shook the cage, where his tawny owl was still asleep.
"Oh, don't give me that look!" he scowled, as his owl's yellow eyes sprang open. "It's only fair, so consider it payback for this morning."
James turned away from the cage and went to put on his clothes and wash up, before grabbing his wand from his bedside cabinet and stuffing it into his pocket. He was still fumbling to put his socks on right, while clumsily hopping down the stairs with a screeching Roderick in tow. After a quick pit stop in the entrance hall, to pull on his shoes, he finally reached the kitchen. Breathing raggedly, he managed to place the cage atop his trunk, his eyes wandering the crowded room, until he spotted his parents already dressed and holding hands, wands at the ready.
"Got everything, laddie?" Fleamont asked, eyeing the baggage with interest.
James nodded and his father proceeded to grab hold of his trunk, while his mother grabbed the cage. This left both of his hands free to cling tightly to his parents', while his eyes screwed shut in anticipation.
Next thing he knew, they had all Disapparated and everything went black. A horrible, yet familiar sense of being crushed from the outside seemed to suffocate him. His grip on his parents' hands tightened, as he felt his stomach start to clench painfully. It took a while for the unbearable pressure to fade, leaving him at a sudden stand-still.
Not used to standing on his own two feet again, he wobbled slightly from right to left, his only stability being the firm grip on his hands. Closing his eyes briefly to stop the constant spinning finally did the trick and a moment later he popped them back open.
The sight that greeted him was one to marvel over, since James had never seen so many wizards and witches assembled at one place before. Every way he looked, he caught sight of some appearing out of thin air with a faint pop, while others faded out again with an even louder one. A green sign hanging from the ceiling read King's Cross Apparition Room, which explained the many faces passing them.
His parents seemed completely used to this and started to queue up much like everyone else did, awaiting their turn to leave the crowded room and find their way to Platform 9 3/4. While slowly moving up the line, Fleamont grabbed one of the many trollies parked next to them, so he and Euphemia would not have to carry around the heavy baggage anymore.
Another half-hour passed until a strange voice echoed seemingly out of nowhere. "Clear to go," it said, signalling it was finally their turn.
Before leaving though, his parents halted quickly, mumbling Multicorfors underneath their breath. The spell changed their robes into regular Muggle attire and they opened the door, easily blending into the stream of people wandering King's Cross Station.
The Potters weaved and pushed their way through the jumbled mass of Muggles and wizards alike, until they finally reached platform nine. James knowingly stepped forward until he reached the wall between the two platforms.
"We go through here now, right?" James asked, pointing his finger at the bricks staring back at them.
"Right you are." His father turned to face the wall with a grin on his face. "Are you sure you're up to the challenge?"
"Please," his son defended with a smug smirk, grabbing the trolley from his father's hands, as he prepared himself for the sprint, "I was born ready."
Next to them, Euphemia gave her boy a nervous glance and was about to grab his shoulder to hold him back. "James wait –" she called, but it was too late.
James had already kicked off and was running at full speed towards the looming brick wall, while Roderick clawed at his cage in pure terror. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, subconsciously preparing for impact, as a sudden coldness spread through his bones.
He didn't have time to react, because by then it had already faded again, leaving him with the loud chatter of people ringing in his ears. His eyes slowly fluttered open again, taking in the mesmerizing view of Platform 9 3/4.
"Nice one," a male voice complimented out of the blue a few moments later and James looked up to see both his parents smiling fondly down at him.
He replied with a grin of his own and would've celebrated the fact he hadn't just died, had he not seen a white cloud of smoke curling into the air only a short walking distance away from where they stood now. Even he knew where that came from and the simple thought made a brilliant smile spread over his lips, almost splitting his face in two.
"The Hogwarts Express," he muttered in awe, biting his lip to contain his shout of glee, "I'm finally here."
Pushing his trolley along with him, he obediently followed behind Fleamont and Euphemia, who's eyes were both alight with pride and warmth. They slid through the mass of parents and children all saying their goodbyes with teary hugs, until they finally reached the massive train billowing another trail of steamy vapor into the air.
The crimson steam engine was smaller than he thought it would be, but just as impressive. A long row of carriages was attached to the front, where students milled around inside arguing about their seating position, while their parents and siblings waved enthusiastically. Owl cages and trunks clashed together, with colourful swear words following shortly behind, before quickly being swallowed up by the chattering lot.
"I think it's time I get on," James said, his eyes alight with happiness, as he stared longingly at the train. "Don't want it to leave without me."
"Of course not," his mother agreed, tears beginning to pool in her dark eyes. "Of course not," she repeated.
Fleamont soothingly rubbed his wife's back. "It's okay, James will be just fine at Hogwarts."
A loud sob ripped itself free from her chest nonetheless, as she moved to clutch her son closer to her body, fingers tangling in his already wild hair.
"I'm so proud of you, James," she told him, a motherly smile lighting up her face, as she let her hand gently stroke her son's cheek.
"Thanks, Mum," James replied, hugging her closer.
Euphemia pulled back a little and held him out in front of her now, with a look of pure adoration in her eyes. "Just promise me you'll be safe."
He nodded. "I promise."
With that said, his mum reluctantly let go of him and let his father step forward. Fleamont crouched down in front of him, so that he was now looking up at his son.
"Laddie," he spoke, "remember what I told you about our family?"
"Yeah," James replied, breathing in deeply to make his chest puff out, "you told me all the Potters got sorted into Gryffindor."
"That's right," Fleamont nodded, "but just know that I won't care which house you get sorted into -"
He halted suddenly in thought, "- well, maybe not Slytherin."
"Fleamont!" his mother scolded from behind them, lightly hitting his father upside the head.
"It's alright, Mum!" James defused, before slightly scowling, as he added beneath his breath, "I wasn't planning on it anyway."
Fleamont gave a hearty chuckle, after swatting away his wife's hand. "Study hard and give it your all," he continued, "but don't forget ..."
He paused and placed a steady hand on his son's shoulder.
"... to have a little fun along the way."
James' scowl morphed into a bright grin again and he hugged his father one last time. Then, he pulled his heavy trunk and cage off of the trolley and up the steps, before disappearing inside the train.
Multiple compartments lined both walls, creating only a single hallway where James could successfully push through, his eyes greedily searching for one that wasn't already full. He had nearly reached the end of the train, when he felt the steam engine give an abrupt lurch, signalling its departure, and quickly slipped into the nearest compartment.
James took in his new surroundings and saw two people sitting on opposite sides, both not talking. One was a redhead, hunched in the corner seat by the window, while the other was a boy with black hair and fine clothes, impatiently swinging his feet back and forth.
Figuring the girl would allow him more space, he slipped in next to her, but not before placing his luggage overhead. He studied her briefly after that, but saw nearly nothing besides the side of her face, so he switched his gaze to the boy.
A small smile tugged at his lips, as he caught sight of the way his hair was slicked back so perfectly. "Blimey, didn't think it actually worked."
"What're you on about?" the boy asked, grey eyes snapping up from the ground to stare at him confusedly.
"Sleekeazy's, I reckon?" James pointed at the other's head. "I would know since it's nearly everywhere at home and that's after my dad sold the company to that bloke."
"Your dad invented this stuff?" The boy frowned and ran a hand through his hair with an annoyed huff. "My mother, that old bat, makes me wear it at any special occasion. Be it at her bloody Black family tea parties or the first day of school."
"Black you say?" The name sounded familiar to James, but nonetheless he added sarcastically, "I think they were one of his most loyal customers."
The boy laughed at that, although it sounded more like a bark than anything. "I'd believe that any day, those stuck-ups would buy anything just to look better than everyone else."
"I s'pose it at least serves that purpose," James went on to say, trying to stifle a grin of his own. "I'll be sure to tell my dad that it makes the customers look better than everyone else."
"You do that –"
"James," he interjected, sticking his hand out to the boy across from him. "James Potter."
"Sirius Black," the boy replied, leaning forward in his seat and enthusiastically grasping the outstretched hand with a no-good twinkle in his eye.
The two shook hands and the compartment rang with boisterous laughs for only a short while, before being interrupted by the loud creaking of the opening compartment door.
A sallow-faced boy had entered. He looked to be about their age with greasy, black curtains of hair obscuring his dark eyes and his chest heaving from exertion.
James watched with mild curiosity, as he made his way quickly over to the corner seat to the right of Sirius, but once he began talking with the redhead lost all interest in the boy. Instead, he fixed his attention back onto his newfound friend.
"I can't wait to reach Hogwarts!" he said excitedly, ignoring the sniffles coming from the girl next to him. "The Quidditch team is probably already waiting for my arrival."
"Right," Sirius gave an amused snort. "You must be off your rocker if you think they'll let first years onto the team."
James let a smug smile slip onto his lips and combed a hand through his hair exaggeratedly. "I'm telling you now, I'll be a Quidditch legend one day, so they'd be mental if they didn't let me on the team a little early."
"If you say so," Sirius replied unconvinced, a near taunting tone lacing his voice, before he broke out in sniggering laughter.
James couldn't help but grin himself, the humorous atmosphere making him feel light with happiness. It was only when he accidentally overheard a trickle of conversation from the two students by the window that his mood plummeted again and the good-natured grin slipped off his face.
"You'd better be in Slytherin." He heard the greasy-haired boy say to the redhead and James felt his eyes roll in annoyance, as he rounded at the word.
He couldn't control the hateful words that slipped from his mouth. "Slytherin? Who wants to be in Slytherin?"
James didn't want to understand how someone wanted to be in a house with people only looking out for themselves and their own benefits. All the students who ended up in that house were poor souls.
"I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" he continued, swinging his head back to Sirius, in hope he would understand his claim.
All he got in return was a look from his friend. "My whole family have been in Slytherin," he shrugged.
James' mouth dropped slightly in disbelief, his brain suddenly remembering why the name Black had sounded so familiar to him. "Blimey and I thought you seemed all right!"
Sirius' face morphed into a grin again, as his eyes began to gleam with intent. "Maybe I'll break the tradition," he said and then gestured his head to James. "Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"
James felt his body hum with pride, as he recalled the words his father had told him once. '"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!"' he said and lifted an invisible sword. "Like my dad."
He heard a small, disparaging noise from the window seat opposite him and felt anger bubble beneath his skin, as he glared at the greasy-haired boy.
"Got a problem with that?" James nearly growled.
His fingers dug themselves into the seat cushions, as he saw a slight sneer make an appearance on the other boy's face. "No," the boy said, in contrast to his expression. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy -"
"Where're you hoping to go, since you're neither?" Sirius interjected with a small smirk, eyebrows raised in mock curiosity, as he purposefully invaded the boy's personal space.
The boy's expression soured and James forgot his anger for the time-being, as he roared with laughter, slapping his knee and almost doubling over, while Sirius remained in his position, smirk only growing.
Suddenly, James felt a shift next to him and looked up from his laughter long enough to see the redheaded girl sit up, rather flushed. Her green stare, rimmed with red, looked from James to Sirius in dislike.
"Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment," she said with finality in her voice.
The redhead stood up with one last glare and grabbed her greasy-haired friend by the sleeve, before making to leave. She was interrupted by both James and Sirius saying, "Oooooo," while imitating her lofty voice.
She ignored them and pulled Severus farther away, careful of James' foot trying to trip him as they passed. The compartment door was angrily yanked open and both she and Severus exited quickly.
"See ya, Snivellus!" James called, just before the compartment door slammed shut, "or was it Severus? I can't remember!"
He waved his hand to chase the thought from his brain and instead kicked his feet up on Sirius' side of the compartment.
"That just leaves more room for us," he grinned at Sirius and both broke out in loud laughs again.
Maybe James had made a few new enemies today, but the way Sirius was looking at him, with crinkled eyes and a wide-open laughing mouth, made him think they were going to be fast friends.