Author's Notes: Thanks everyone for all the reviews and alerts :)! I really appreciate them. It's really keeping me going with this fanfic. I absolutely love writing about the Marauders! 3~! I know it's been a while since my last update, but hopefully I'll get around to updating again soon. Maybe for Valentine's Day XD! Hope you enjoy this chapter for what it is. I'll try to be a bit more creative! Thanks for all the heads up and tips! :D


Platform Nine and Three Quarters

It was surprise to James how fast it all seemed since meeting Sirius that day in Diagon Alley, and almost as fast as he had come, he was soon stepping into the green flames of the Potter fireplace and on his way home. The decision was made so quickly that neither Fleamont nor Euphemia could find the right words to send him off properly.

James, too, seemed rather glum about his friend leaving, but was reminded that they'd see each other again in just a mere two more days. That thought was the only thought that was keeping him going. Two whole disturbingly boring days with nothing to do but read and break more house rules. Ever since Sirius had pointed it out to him, James spent most of his time deciphering the poem in the painting and then doing the exact opposite of what was said. Of course, this caused some major problems for his parents, but they didn't really hold it against him. They only told him not to do it again, then joked about it over supper. The boy got away with practically anything and everything. His parents were soft, a little too soft.

Those two days were the most dragging days since his entire existence. Sure, mum and dad allowed him into Diagon Alley the day after Sirius had gone homeward, but it just didn't feel the same without his counterparts. He merely found himself killing time with William at his favorite Quidditch store for most of the day. In all honesty, James wanted the day to end. He wanted it to end fast. Time, as it always seemed at that most crucial moments, was slow and eating at his patience like a dog with raw meat. It did eventually pass, though, and soon enough James finally found himself staring at his calendar in amazement that fateful morning.

"Just one more day," he told himself, placing a nice big X over the 30th. "One more day. This is the last day. Just one more day and I'll be Hogwarts bound by morning…" He repeated that to himself several times over before looking up at his snitch-shaped clock on the wall and cursed himself. "9:23? It's only been two minutes…! Bloody—"

"—Ehem!" Mrs. Potter stood in the doorway, her arms akimbo. "You're not counting the seconds again, are you, dear?"

James frowned. "I'm counting the minutes, Mum. I don't have a 'second-hand' clock, remember? You wouldn't let me get one."

"And for good reason!" she exclaimed, a smile pressing against her lips, "You'd be staring at that thing all day if it were second-hand. At least with minute-hand you get a chance to look away and come back later, but with seconds! Oh, my, word… You'd be standing in front of it all day saying that the time moves too fast and that you have to keep an eye on it. James, why, you'd never let yourself out of your room!"

At this the boy said nothing. Inwardly, he knew what his mother said was true. Mothers, after all, knew best no matter how much the boy tried to deny it. Frowning, he grabbed his wand, pocketed it, and then stalked passed his mother to go out into the hallway. He could feel his mother's eyes following the back of his head as he walked in the direction of the owlery; what is with mothers these days? Euphemia was being exceptionally nosy today; she had even turned and followed her son down the hallway.

"Yes, mum?"

Euphemia stopped a little behind her son. "Hm?" her voice seemed to quirk almost amusingly, "Nothing, darling. Why the inquiry?"

"Mm… Nothing."

James continued down the hallway, but kept his ears open for his mother's footsteps following him. He wasn't entirely sure if she was following him or going her own way, but she neither stirred down the stairs nor turned any opportune corners, and it was this that was beginning to make the boy feel relatively uneasy. There was, however, always the case that Mrs. Potter was going to owl someone as well, but he highly doubted such was the case. Euphemia was never one to write letters nor was she the type to read them, usually it was her husband who took care of those things. But, then, why would his mother have to keep an annoyingly close eye on him anyway? Did he do something to merit the undivided attention?

"Mum?" he asked, suddenly, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Why, of course, dear?"

"You're not…following me around, are you?"

Mrs. Euphemia Potter's footsteps suddenly stopped, James couldn't hear the quiet taps of her slippers on the floor behind him. Curious, he turned around to face her, but was suddenly startled when she suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. She was laughing so hard that her face had turned red. Her son couldn't help but stare in complete bewilderment. What in all the Wizarding World had become of his mum…?

She waved her hand childishly. "Oh goodness, no, James," she exclaimed, wiping her eyes. "Of course not! Can't I pay a visit to my own owlery without having my own son accuse me…?"

These words made James almost want to sink into the floorboards. Almost. The boy could almost sense the wee bit of sarcasm in his mother's tone. It was always really hard to tell when or when she wasn't being serious; she didn't put much effort in the sarcastic intonation, but he thought he caught a hint of it. Just a hint of sarcasm was enough to make him skeptical. He turned back towards his destination and finally entered through the door to the owlery.

Almost as soon as James had stepped in, his mother whizzed passed him and headed toward the large pile of Inbox waiting for her. Peculiarly enough, she didn't take the entire pile like her husband would; instead, she simply picked up the newest issue of the Daily Prophet that had just come in. It had been lying cleanly at the top of the pile. With a prominent smile on her face she quickly tucked it under her arm, away from James's view.

James furrowed his brows at her weird actions, but after a few seconds, shrugged it off. Without even a second's glance, he was at the Inbox pile, too, sifting through it like he had the day before. Soon enough, he pulled out the exact same paper and issue his mother had just tucked away under her arm, and plopped down on the floor to read it. Apparently, Mrs. Potter had miscalculated. She forgot that Fleamont had subscribed for two copies an issue! Upon seeing what James had taken, his mother's proud expression suddenly paled and she rushed to grab the newspaper from her son. She literally tore it away from him so quickly that part of the paper ripped in her son's fingers.

"T-This one's for your father," she stuttered, face pale, before turning heel and walking out of the room.

This left the messy-haired boy staring at the open doorway, completely stunned. Never had his mother done something like that before. Did she really not want him to read the news that badly…? She was the complete opposite of most mothers in all the Wizarding World, that's for sure. Was he supposed to be kept in the dark till he turned the appropriate age or something—? Just a minute, what am I thinking? I am of age already! I'll be in Hogwarts tomorrow! It just didn't seem to make sense to him. First Sirius leaves after reading the paper, and now his mother doesn't even want him touching it? He didn't get it! People got killed, he knew as much, but what did he miss? Why were his parents and Sirius taking it like it had something to do with them?

After the encounter with his mom that morning, James had eventually wandered back into his room during the course of the day. He was lying on his floor, staring up at the, now, star-filled sky. The events of the morning had really weighed on him all day. It was so heavy in fact, that the boy didn't notice how much time had passed. In fact, so much time had passed the boy eventually fell asleep on the hard surface of his wooden floor.

The next thing James knew, it was already morning. The rays of the sun had just barely begun to rise up on his ceiling, but since the boy had nothing to cover himself with, he stirred and woke up. He yawned, loudly, and stretched. He noted that a few parts of his body were sore from the hardwood, and he struggled move. Unwillingly, he got up, stretched some more, took the time to rumple his hair, and then took a glance up at his snitch-shaped clock. 9:24. Only a minute has passed since—?

"James!" cried a voice from the doorway. It was his mother again. "What are you still doing in those clothes? Hurry up and fix yourself, would you? The Hogwarts Express leaves at exactly 11 without fail, I hope you know. Do you want to go to Hogwarts or not?"

Upon hearing these words, James's eyes widened with complete astonishment. He hadn't even realized that it was already the next day. It was already September 1! Without even having to count the minutes, it was already time for him to freshen up and get ready. The boy sped out of the room at light speed, nearly causing Mrs. Potter to teeter over, and toward his personal washroom. His mother, after catching her balance once more, watched as her son locked himself in. She couldn't help but smile.


"Platform nine and three quarters, right…?"

Fleamont hobbled along side his son as they walked up King's Cross together in search of the platform described on James's Hogwarts Express ticket. Of course, having gone to the school many years ago, James's father was an expert at locating the platform. Even when muggle eyes could be deceived, nothing could escape the eyes of an expert wizard. Being in the Ministry of Magic for many years also gave the man a lot of good experience for locating magically attuned places even without having to look at numbers or being told what to do. There was just something about it that a person can sense. Magically twisted objects and doorways had a different feel than everyday appliances, he told James as they approached the dividing barrier between platforms 9 and 10.

"Do you sense it, James?" he asked, patting his son on the head. Another family of wizards passed them and entered through the barrier as they stood there. "Try closing your eyes. It might help." James obeyed, even as a few muggles and a few other witches and wizards passed them by. "That's a boy! Now search for the core of the object. Sense it there…?"

James could almost feel a sort of warmth emanating from the barrier between the two platforms. The sort of warmth you get when friction is applied between two objects. Magic, too, had to follow some ranges of the universal laws of gravity. Wizards had their own curious scientists too.

"Now try and compare it with this one," at this Fleamont turn his son in the direction of the divide between platforms 7 and 8.

The messy-haired boy opened his eyes, and placed his hands back on the trolley he had been pushing. "Feels kind of dull compared to the other one… You can sense all this just by looking at it, Dad?"

His father smiled, smugly. "Takes practice, James," he replied, placing an arm around James's shoulders as they walked steadily toward the divide just as the other wizards and witches had that passed them by. "You'll get the hang of it; it'll come in handy one day, I assure you. Now, come, its almost time for you head off—"

"James! Mr. Potter!" cried a voice from somewhere behind. James's head spun at the direction of the voice; he knew whom it belonged to. Sirius was dressed as sophisticated as usual, pushing a trolley of his own toward them. "Glad to see we made it in time."

It was hard to tell at first glance, but Regulus stood just behind his brother, apparently unwilling to show himself to the Potters. James only caught sight of him when Sirius bent over to catch the cage of his owl before it fell to the floor. The messy-haired boy greeted him with a nod, and miraculously enough, Regulus returned the greeting. He had thought that the younger Black hated him, but this notion of acknowledgement put his speculations to rest.

"This is Regulus Black," he introduced to his father, "Sirius's younger brother."

"Ah… Yes," Mr. Potter confirmed, a smile etching into his aged face. "I've heard a bit about you."

Regulus appeared somewhat taken aback by the sudden introduction, but nodded curtly back at Mr. Potter so as not to show any sort of disrespect. Sirius nudged his brother in the side, and then urged everyone to get on the platform. They each passed through the barrier two at a time: James with his father and Sirius with his brother, and inevitably came into the view of the much famed Hogwarts Express.

From the moment James laid his eyes upon the train, his heart would not cease hammering. The adrenaline was beginning to pump harder and heavier with each successive pound. He could actually feel himself palpating. The rush was just a totally new high for him. Had Fleamont not been there, he would have probably stood staring at the train from the platform as it pulled out of the station. There were so many people there; the place was so much more packed than the muggle platforms. There were students already packed into carriages, while others were out and about saying their final goodbyes to their families.

The whole lot of them, with Fleamont leading the way, walked up and down the platform in search of some empty seats for the two new Hogwarts students, and eventually came upon a completely empty carriage towards the near end of the train. It was still a bit early, after all, so not all the carriages were packed like the front cars.

"In you go," chimed James, putting Cinder in first before allowing his father to help load up his trunk. "Thanks, Dad." He then turned toward the two brothers who both seemed to be having a rather difficult time with Sirius's rather bulky-looking luggage. "What did you put in there, mate? Need a hand?"

"T-That would be nice," strained Sirius, as James came around to lift the other end of the luggage.

It was a lot heavier than it looked. Even with three people loading it up at the same time, they all broke into a sweat just trying to lift it. They didn't actually get it up until Fleamont had come around to give them a hand.

Regulus seemed to be the most tired out of the lot of them. "I-I," he heaved, trying to slow his breathing, "I told you not to put too much."

"Oh, shut up, would you?" muttered Sirius, frowning. "Better safe than sorry, I say."

The two brothers laughed in unison, and James couldn't help but smile at them. The messy-haired boy had always wondered what it would feel like to have a sibling. Seeing Sirius and Regulus together, only made his curiosity peak. Unconsciously, he looked at his father and shrugged. Fleamont managed to catch his son's eye before turning away, and simply nodded his head.

By this time, the clock at the high end of the train had turned 10:50, and the train's loud whistle blew it's warning signal before depature. Regulus shook his brother's hand before trotting off in the direction of the muggle platforms, and Fleamont gave his son one last pat on the head before stepping back to let a few other students into the other empty compartments along the train. With both Fleamont and Regulus away, James and Sirius were once again at ease to talk with each other.

"A few more hours and we'll be in Hogwarts…"

The both of them set their minds drifting into their own little world, trying to imagine what Hogwarts was really like.

Just as James was picturing a Quidditch-inspired Great Hall in his mind, another crowd of bustling students came walking passed their compartment. They were so loud that Sirius had a half mind to yell at them to settle down. James laughed at the other's angered expression, but his laughter was suddenly cut short when he caught glimpse of something familiar from the corner of his eye—someone James had met only a few days ago had just walked onto the platform.

"Pettigrew!" James cried, just before a second whistle from the train sounded. Five minutes left before departure. "Pettigrew, over here!"

Sirius, too, got up out of his seat to catch glimpse of the round fellow as he rushed over to their compartment. He was struggling with his trolley, and his face was even paler than the white shirt he wore. It was a rather comical sight, but neither of his friends sat there laughing at him. They willingly got down from the train to help the young lad put his things in their compartment. Pettigrew's owl went in first, of course, followed by his relatively light trunk.

"S-Sorry," he sputtered as he got into the carriage first. "I overslept."

James laughed. "We can see that. You didn't even have a chance to get ready by the look of you."

Peter lowered his head as he allowed Sirius passage into the compartment as well. It was at this moment that Sirius fell back furthest away from the smallest of the three of them, his nose scrunched up. He had the most repulsive look on his usual handsome face.

"Can actually smell you too, mate," he grimaced, breathing through his mouth. "When was the last time you had a decent bath?"

Peter's face turned beet red, and he buried his face in the collar of his shirt.

"Stop teasing him, Sirius," laughed James, climbing in as well. "He was in a rush. At least, let the boy relax a bit before you start criticizing him."

Just as the messy-haired boy sat down, something even redder than Peter's face was caught in his peripheral vision. Calmly, he glanced in the direction of the odd redness and saw that it was the sun's bright rays reflecting onto someone's strangely familiar deep, red hair. He hadn't noticed the color until the person had stepped out into the sunlight. The person—a girl—had, apparently, been hiding in the shadows until that particular moment.

"Hey—It's that girl!" he exclaimed, finally recognizing her. "Evans, I think?" he was responding to the quizzical looks both Pettigrew and Sirius were giving him. "I met her in Leaky Cauldron that one day. Seemed like a bit of a know-it-all. Ye might wanna watch out for her, Sirius, case she turns out to be a Slytherin."

Sirius wrinkled his forehead at the last remark, but due to his long bangs, neither one of his friends took notice of his change in his expression. Silently, the handsome chap shrugged his shoulders, and looked back at the girl in question. She seemed to be chatting quite animatedly with several other companions. Each of them were taking turns getting into an empty compartment about four cars down. Oddly enough, most of her companions seemed to be of the opposite gender, though, there were a few girls too, of course. There was one boy in particular that she seemed to be talking with more consistently than the others. He was a little shorter than she was, and he stood out a lot more than any of her other companions, especially to Sirius.

"That's definitely an insult," grumbled the handsome chap, as though he had seen something excruciatingly revolting.

Pettigrew craned his neck trying to see what Sirius was staring intently at. "What is…?"

James, too, couldn't really see what Sirius was weirdly insulted by, but then again, Evans's annoyingly bright red hair was distracting him from paying attention to much of anything else; all his eyes could see was RED. It was blaring under the bright sun. The messy-haired boy was sure he'd go blind if the girl didn't get into her blasted compartment anytime soon.

"It's an insult to all people with at least a decent sense of fashion, I'd say," spat Sirius, glaring harshly at the last one to hop into the train. "Did you see what the boy was wearing? Even his socks were different! One was striped and the other had spots! One green the other…a sort of blue that I couldn't even recognize!"

Both Peter and James sighed lightly. They had thought the handsome chap had been signally insulted or something. But then again, for someone like Sirius, just by looking at him you could tell what kind of person he was. Or at least the type of family he was from. Well off, and of course, excruciatingly prim and proper. Nothing mismatched, not even a single strand of hair out of place. Even though Sirius had made it clear that he was the white sheep of his Black family, the boy still held a few rather high standards for your average eleven year old.

"I'll be sure to get his name," said James, nodding his head as the final whistle sounded and the Express began to trudge down the tracks. "Oh, and be sure to teach him a thing or two about appropriate attire then, Sirius, once we get to know him. We wouldn't want you nagging to us about the boy for seven years…"

Sirius and James waved out the window at Mr. Potter before the train slowly began to move further and further away from the station. Fleamont waved back proudly, as did many other parents, and soon enough, the station was completely out of sight. The steam from the Hogwarts Express seemed to obscure the King's Cross from view. It was either the fake produced steam that would fool muggles, or the morning mist that did it. Either way, the train packed with students was finally on its journey to its final destination: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Sirius frowned. "Why do I have to be the one to teach him?"

"You have the most fashion sense out of the lot of us," stated James, smirking. "Ain't that right, Pettigrew?"

Peter nodded almost simultaneously. One would think that the boy's head would fall off at how hard he seemed to nod.

Since boarding the Express the three of them went about talking about all sorts of things, from Quidditch, to Hogwarts, and even to their favorite assortments of food. The food topic was one that really got Pettigrew into the conversation; the young blonde seemed to perk up at every statement relating to food. From what Sirius and James could gather, the round boy definitely wasn't a food hater. He seemed to have a knack for loving all types of food. There seemed to be nothing he would not love to eat or at least try. Even the prospect of eating pig's blood was something that tickled his fancy.

"In the East, loads of people like to eat things raw," explained Sirius; he had gotten on the topic when James had inquired about his home studies. "Some people, for fun, would twirl live baby octopi around their stick utensils—"

"You mean chopsticks," corrected Pettigrew, staring hungrily at his fingernails.

"Right. Anyway, as I was saying… They'd twirl it around their chopsticks and eat them whole. Me mum says that some people have actually died eating them. Muggles, usually, because they don't have magic to pull the bloke out of their throats, but on some occasions, even wizards and witches can't seem to snag those suctions them octopi have on their arms from the person's esophagus."

James furrowed his brow. "Nasty little buggers. That's quite an interesting way to have fun, I'd say."

Just thinking about having any live animal stuck in your throat was enough to make James want to hurl. But then again, that would be a rather interesting way to go. He had a feeling that if he were to die choking on a live octopus in London, it'd be all over the Daily Prophet! 'Young Wizard Dies Choking on an Octopus', he could see the headlines bright in his mind. Of course, the messy-haired boy didn't actually want to die just yet. He just turned eleven! He had a whole life ahead of him!

As they continued to chat, the train eventually pulled out of London. It whizzed the students passed plains, fields of cows and sheep, and lanes. The scenery was absolute superb had any of the three taken the time to look, but the whole lot of them were much too busy to even bother looking out the window.

Around half past twelve a little trolley and a woman came along through the corridor of the train and tapped on the door of their compartment. Peter, who was closest, opened the door so that the smiling, dimpled woman could peak into the room a lot easier. Both James and Sirius, who had both read about the Hogwarts Express in several books, knew exactly whom this lady was and exactly what it was that she doing in front of their compartment. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, James suddenly interrupted her.

"We'd love something off the trolley, dear," he said, imitating a woman's voice. He jumped up out of his seat and into the corridor to look at what she was selling. The dimpled woman stared, looking somewhat astonished back at James, but said nothing.

Only moments later, the messy-haired boy came back in with a bunch of sweets carried in his relatively thin arms. The dimpled woman carried on down the corridor, and Pettigrew closed the door as soon as she left. James had bought more than enough for all of them; so much, in fact, that they'd probably be bring a bunch of extras within their pockets when they were to arrive.

"Why'd you buy an extra…?" questioned Sirius, pointing at the four boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "And I'm not much of a fan—"

"Can I have them, Sirius? Oh, please, I love those!" cried Pettigrew flailing his arms in extreme delight. "If you don't want your share, can I have it?"

James tried to hide his laughter, but couldn't contain himself the moment he glanced at the handsome chaps somehow twisted face.

"No," stated Sirius, grabbing his share. He pulled out what appeared to be a small stamp from his front pant's pocket and eagerly pressed it against the innocent bottle of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. A bright red Black family insignia could now be seen on the bottle where he had stamped. "You may not have them. It's got my name on it now, see?"

Peter cowered slightly. "B-But I thought you didn't—"

"Just because he doesn't want them, doesn't mean he won't have them," explained James, patting the blonde on the shoulder. "It's alright. Sirius just got a bit of a pride problem, that's all." At this, he snuck a smirk at the handsome chap.

Sirius frowned, but refused to make eye contact with either of his two friends. His deep gray eyes, instead, turned to look outside. He seemed strangely transfixed to the serene scenery beyond the express train. In spite of the handsome boy's composure, however, James knew very well what his silence meant: Pride was definitely one of the Black traits that pulsated clearly through his pure veins.


None of the three boys had really paid attention to how much time had passed since they'd been on the train, but they assumed that a couple hours had gone by since leaving London. Even though no one had announced anything over the loud speaker, they all had this gut feeling that they were already close to Hogwarts. Almost instinctively, without so much as a look between each other, they got up, pulled their cloaks from their luggage, and then slipped them on.

It was no surprise to anyone that Sirius's cloak looked the best of the lot; it was probable that the cloak was a Black heirloom for it bore the familiar royal insignia that seemed to be on all of Sirius's belongings. James's cloak looked second best because it was new. He had just bought it from Madam Malkin's on their outing the other day, while Peter's was obviously a hand-me-down. The blonde looked a little plumper in the cloak… James could almost swear that the thing was made from shaved animal hide—the furry outer covering seemed to confirm it when he touched it.

Outside the valleys, pastures, and lakes were becoming more and more predominant as time flew by, and it wasn't until someone knocked on the door to their compartment that they noticed that it was also beginning to get dark already. Being the one closest to the doorway, Pettigrew slid it open to see whom it was hovering out in the hallway.

"Y-Yes?" murmured Pettigrew, staring up into the face of a girl none of them had seen before. She was slightly round-faced, and her dirty blonde hair seemed to fall just a little past her shoulders. In all respects, she seemed like a sweet girl from her appearance, though, the word 'cute' seemed to describe her a lot better than the word 'pretty' would.

"Uhm," she fumbled for words as her blue eyes darted from one side of the compartment to the other, as if looking for something. "You fellows must be first years, right? Wouldn't happen to have some extra food to spare, would you…?"

Sirius opened his mouth to retort something (probably to the effect of 'No, I'm not giving my Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to you either!'), but James cut him off just in time to save their necks from a horrible first impression.

"I bought a whole bunch off the trolley a while back," he informed, pointing at the pile of sweets and wrappers that lay between him and Pettigrew. "Any particular preference—?"

"Perfect!" she exclaimed, smiling widely as she clambered into their compartment to take the whole pile (wrappers and all) in her arms. "Hey, I definitely owe you lads—"

"W-What? You're taking all of it—?" gapped Peter, beady eyes looking like they were about to water over.

"Mhm…" she murmured, absentmindedly, as she excused herself from their little compartment, and then without a single word more she was out of sight and dashing back down the hallway.

The three boys stared at the semi-open doorway, minds completely distorted by the girl's random appearance. Not only had she come in of her own accord, but she had also taken all of the extra sweets James had been hoping to save for later. She didn't even show a hint of gratitude toward them either! She didn't even introduce herself or ask for their names! Even with having successfully stopped Sirius from speaking, it seemed like an even worse first impression had been formulated between themselves and the girl. Who ever she was, she was definitely a lot bolder than they had thought just by the look of her.

"Bloody… of all the rotten things—! She took my beans!"

James merely shrugged as Sirius continued to swear loudly; the messy-haired boy already had his hands full trying to soothe Peter. The young blonde was crying his eyes out onto, what you used to be, James's dry pants. Even as he tried prying the hysterical little boy from his leg, Pettigrew just wouldn't let it go. The poor guy was taking all the misery out on his friend's good leg. With Sirius fuming and Peter bawling, James almost felt like throwing his hands up in the air and just joining in. Because of Sirius's pride and Peter's hysterical attitude—two extremes that shouldn't be put in the same group, mind you—James was forced to be the level-headed one, and that was something the boy was just…never good at.

"Pettigrew, relax," he strained, wincing at the sudden pressure that the blonde was exerting. "Ouch! Sirius, would you stop scheming and try to be of some assistance here, please…?"

"This wasn't my doing," stated Sirius, pointedly. "Blame that—that—that—!"

James hit Sirius in the head with his free hand. "Stop, you'll regret finishing that sentence, mate."

"I highly doubt that, James," scowled the other, glaring harshly at the door of their compartment. "I ought to teach that—that—that —" He stopped mid-sentence upon seeing the look of disapproval on James's face. "—girl. That girl. I ought to take back what rightfully belongs to us."

It was safe to say that Sirius was the kind of guy who didn't like letting things go. James also managed to deduce that the handsome chap was the kind of guy who liked to take his annoyance out on other things and not just on the problem at hand. The messy-haired boy had to be careful with what he said around Sirius… He had this remote feeling that if he said anything out of the other's standards, Sirius would pounce and rebound his anger right at him. That sort of scenario was the type he really wanted to avoid right now.

"It's just candy," said James, finally, as he began to pet Peter's head. Young Pettigrew had finally stopped wailing, but his sobs were still rather loud. "We can buy more later—"

At this Sirius gave him the look. The very same look James had been hoping to avoid. "Just?" gapped the handsome chap, "Just candy? What do you mean just candy? I even put my name on that candy, and you can just say 'just'…? Pettigrew understands the frustration I feel! That wasn't just candy. That was our candy, James, ours."

James sighed. There was no use fighting back. With both Sirius and Pettigrew both acting this way, there was no use trying to console either one. It was impossible. James was alone in this game, and the only light of reason of the trio. Two to one was never considered to be good odds to begin with.

Just as the last flicker of light had begun to fade, and just as James was about to succumb to their ever expanding frustration, there came yet another knock on the door of their compartment. This time, however, whomever it was standing outside, didn't wait for anyone to open the door for them; instead the boy just peeked in to see what all the fuss was about. Stunned by the sudden entrance of the stranger, the three boys stopped what they were doing to look up. Strangely enough, a sudden wave of dejavu rushed over the lot as they realized who the boy was. It's the mismatched-socks-lad, thought James, inwardly, as he continued to stare up into the pale boy's face. The boy now wore what looked to be an off-colored black robe, and it appeared to be shorter than the length a robe was supposed to be. Because of its length, one could clearly distinguish the spotted and stripped socks. So, he's one Sirius was complaining about—

"What?" snapped Sirius, eye twitching, as his dark eyes looked over the boy's attire in pure distaste. "Planning to steal our belongings now, too?"

James kicked Sirius in the shin, and the handsome chap immediately shut his mouth. The boy stared at Sirius, looking somewhat taken aback by the sudden accusation. He had good reason to be startled, and James couldn't blame him for it. The handsome chap's anger was spewing all over the place. Pettigrew, who had finally released himself from James's leg, looked absolutely horrified. The boy looked about ready to grab his things, get on his knees, and beg to spare his belongings.

"Forgive him," said James, apologetically, "He's in a bad mood at the moment… Err, how can we help you?"

The boy stood there for a few seconds, looking extremely awkward. "Right," he said, slowly, eyes looking from Sirius to Pettigrew. It didn't take long for any of them to notice the monotony of the boy's voice. "Well, people have been complaining about the wailing and shouting coming from this compartment so I was asked to—"

"So, you're accusing us of making a racket, that it?" asked Sirius, tone sharp.

"I haven't accused anyone. I just said—"

Peter backed Sirius up in a heartbeat. "But you implied it."

The boy seemed to frown at Pettigrew's back up. James looked between Pettigrew and Sirius and then up at the boy. Since when did the blonde and the black team up like this? This was a sight the messy-haired boy had not expected in a million years.

"Uh… We're sorry for disturbing you and your friends," interjected James, suddenly, trying his best to break the tension that had suddenly befallen them. "Uhm… We'll try to be a little more…considerate?"

At this, the boy's dark eyes left Sirius's to glance at James. "I should hope so," he said, simply, before turning to leave.

"H-Hold on!" cried the messy-haired boy, standing up. The boy turned his head to look back at James. "Didn't quite catch your name."

The boy seemed to flush slightly at hearing those words. He froze, looking as though he had never been personally asked before. He appeared, at least a little, flattered, though it wasn't that noticeable on such a sallow, pale face. Especially with the boy's shoulder-length, lanky hair; James probably wouldn't have caught the look had the boy not been facing them. "S-Snape," he said, awkwardly, "Severus Snape." And then turned and walked out into the hallway once more.

The minute the door had shut, Sirius stood up, red-in-the-face. "He didn't even ask for our names! That bloody git!"

Pettigrew, trying to copy Sirius, stood up as well. He grunted rather pathetically and then crossed his arms. "Yeah!" he exclaimed, not really know how else to support the handsome chap.

James only shrugged back down into his seat. Two bad impressions, and two hysterical friends. The messy-haired boy almost felt like tearing the hair out of his scalp. He honestly had no idea what to do anymore.

"Hey," he began. James had already given up trying to convince Sirius to settle down, "At least I got his name for you."

Both Sirius and Pettigrew stopped their fuming to look down at James. Sirius looked the most confused out of the both of them, and he sat down to get a better look at James's hazel eyes through the other's round spectacles. The blonde, who had suddenly taken a liking to copying everything Sirius did, sat down as well.

"What's his name got to do with anything?"

James grinned, widely. "Seems you'll be able to teach him a thing or two about fashion this year," he finished, patting Sirius on the knee. "Good for you."

The handsome chap wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Not funny, mate. Not. Funny."


To. Be. Continued.

Lost Boys


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