A.N.: Sorry for posting late, guys. I changed a few things at the end of the last chapter – I felt a bit of James-and-Lily-fighting-action was missing – but this one is a quick chapter all about the Marauders. I hope you like it!

„So, did you actually put Gryffindor pictures all over your room then?" asked James, flopping down on his large, unmade bed next to Sirius. Mrs. Potter had not returned yet, so the four Marauders were waiting for dinner up in James's room with a tray of Elfie's best sandwiches and Crashing Ravens' latest record playing.

The other wizards grinned and grabbed a sandwich from the tray between them. "'Course I did," he said between bites, "and when I left, Mother was screaming her head off about it, ordering the house elves to clean it up before Father got home to see it. It was really funny, actually – the way she was yelling about throwing me out of the house, dishonouring the family. And just as I was closing the door, she was threatening to cut off the house-elves heads if they didn't manage the rom manage on time." His voice was dispassionate, as if his mother insulting him had little or no impact on Sirius at all, though Remus glanced at him worriedly. Sirius had a tendency of down-playing anything that might hurt him and he had wondered more than once how hard it must be to spend the holidays in a place where he was about as welcome as a fox in a chicken coop.

Peter shuddered, thinking of Sirius's description of the elf-heads on the wall of his house's entrance hall as Remus said, "But that's horrible! House-elves can't get off permanent sticking charms, don't you know that?"

Sirius shrugged carelessly, grabbing another sandwich – cheese and bacon, his favourite. "All she does is threaten them, Moony. She hardly ever punishes them when they get something wrong. And even so, it wouldn't be such a loss - Kreacher is just as much of a bigot as the rest of them."

"But the heads –," began Remus, but Peter cut him off with a shrill, "Stop it!"

"What, Peter? Not squeamish, are you?" teased James, reaching out to ruffle Peter's hair.

"Stop it, Prongs!" Peter pushed him away and laughed. "I am on holiday," he added with mock dignity, straightening his hair. "And on holidays, you have fun instead of talking about chopped-off elf-heads."

"Exactly," said James with a satisfied grin, nodding towards the radio where the Ravens' lead singer was bellowing out the chorus: Call us crazy with our drinking and gambling, but that's the only kind of crazy I want! "And since Rico Escarill doesn't want us at his Quidditch camp –"

"-he's in St. Mungo's, Prongs!" guffawed Sirius.

"- and he couldn't heal fast enough," James went on regardless, glancing up at the ceiling where the dark-haired Quidditch player was chasing after the Snitch, his face set in a determined from, "we're going to have to find something useful to occupy our time."
"Something useful?" repeated Remus, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a music magazine in his lap. His tone was amused. "That sounds like something Professor McGonagall would say in Transfiguration."

"Well, I don't mean it like that!" said James, now getting to his feet at starting to pace. "I mean we need a sort of – a sort of project or something."

"We can always play Quidditch," suggested Peter excitedly, who loved the game. "You can teach me how to throw the Quaffle properly, then maybe I can try out for the team next year."

"And get me kicked off?" said Sirius in mock exasperation. "Surely not! But we could get the girls to play against us – how about that, Prongs?"

James raised his eyebrows at him. "What is it with you, Padfoot? So desperate to snog Nora again, are you? I thought you'd be a bit less obvious."

Sirius did not look ashamed, even as Peter goggled at him. "What, you did?" he half-squeaked. "I thought she hates you!"

"Until she's had some firewhisky," replied Sirius smoothly and when Peter still looked confused, he added, "At the end-of-year party, when you were off puking your guts out in the bathroom with Remus. Remember that by any chance?"

Peter blushed and muttered something unintelligible, but Sirius plowed on regardless less, "But let's not get off the subject here, Prongs. How was that little trip you took with Lily Evans the other day?"

James didn't notice Remus smiling slyly down into the magazine as a look of confusion passed over his face. "My trip with Evans?" he repeated. "What about it? I dumped her as soon as I could and got away, that's it." For some reason, he didn't feel like talking about Lily Evans at all. He had never felt irritation with someone as acutely as with that girl. Just the thought of her self-righteousness and the way she swished her red hair when she stormed off to be angry with him or someone else, preferably to report him to their Head of House, made his stomach clench with annoyance.

"I just thought," said Sirius slowly, savouring every word, "seeing that she's here this summer – and Marlene and Nora are around – we would all be spending a lot of time together. And who knows, maybe Lily likes firewhisky, too - " He trailed off.

"What, looking for a threesome, Black?" said James, a crooked grin spreading over his face. "You dog." He paused. "But if you're looking to make Lily Evans like firewhisky this summer, that's something you're going to have to do without me. Though I'm not sure she would be well-advised to go out with you." Though his words could have been hurtful, Sirius only grinned, for that was their normal custom of speaking each other, just like calling each other "elk" and "critter" on occasion.

But before he could say anything, Peter had sat up at the foot the bed with a grin. "Are you actually protecting her? Wow, Prongs, that's almost sort of nice of you."

James raised his eyebrows at him, his crooked grin widening. "It's been known to happen."
Sirius clapped his hands together gleefully at that. "And it can only mean one thing. He really still does, Peter!"

"Do what?" asked James, now confused himself.

"Like Evans!" cried Sirius. He and Peter were now both grinning at each other, while Remus remained outwardly immersed in his magazine.

"What?" said James. Then something seemed to click into place in his head. "Oh, no, I don't. That was – that was fifth year. Come on, guys. That's very over."

When the three others still only looked on the brink of launching into a fit of laughter, James sighed in annoyance. First his mother and now his friends? He hated to explain himself, especially his feelings, so he settled on insulting Lily: "That was before she turned into an annoyingly boring rule-abider."

"Lily's not boring, James," said Remus, finally speaking up. "She may not be as crazy as you are, but she's nice and really funny. You should listen to her more."
"Well, I don't like her," said James and there was a finality ringing in his voice that told the others the subject was closing. "I already have enough of seeing her at Slughorn's parties and in the common room when she snaps at me without finding out if she likes firewhisky or not." He directed this directly at Sirius, who didn't look away from his friend's angry glare.

"We really need project," James went on. "Something cool to do this summer except playing two-on-two Quidditch, which won't involve the girls. We're the Marauders, aren't we?"

"Of course," said Peter, with the same admiring expression he always wore when James started talking about plans. "What's your idea?"

"Let's brainstorm," said Sirius, getting to his feet too, now that he has polished off the last sandwich. He rummaged in his pockets and withdrew a pencil and some paper. "I'll take notes." He started scribbling down his first suggestion: "Get drunk at the Dragon every night of the holidays?"

"Let's take that as an optional, shall we?" said James, matching his mock industrious tone. "How about we work on the map some more?"
Sirius flexed his fingers and looked thoughtful. Then he said, "Wormtail, you take notes!" and tossed the piece of paper to Peter. "Planning projects and writing at the same time is simply too exhausting for me."

Peter rolled his eyes and wrote down James's suggestion. "Can't we do something new?" he asked. "The map is only really fun when we're at Hogwarts and get to try out new passages straight away."

"That's true," Sirius agreed. "But we could prank your Mother's house-elf."

"Elfie?" asked Remus, frowning. "But she's nice to us!"

"Well, what do you suggest?" asked Peter, taking note of what Sirius had said. We have 'Drinking at the Dragon', 'Quidditch', 'Pranks on the house-elf' –"

"How about this?" said Remus with a knowing smile, holding up the magazine.

"What, write to the Lightning Bolt and tell them to stop printing horrid interviews with Celestina Warbeck?" asked James. "Have you got that, Pete? I'm all for it-"

"No, wait, Peter," said Remus gently, stopping his eagerly writing friend. "I mean something different." He pointed to the magazine in his lap. "They're having a band contest. The finals are in London and the first prize is to play as supporting act for Crashing Ravens in September."

The other three all spoke at once. "Crashing Ravens?" gasped James. "That's it!" yelled Sirius, and "But we're not a band!" said Peter.

A wide grin spread over James's face and he gave Remus a little bow. "Moony, I think you've set us our summer project." He turned to the other two. "We're doing it!" Amidst the whoops and Peter's continued shouts of "But only Remus plays an instrument!" and "Can any of you sing?" they almost overheard Mrs. Potter knocking on their door and calling, "Boys! Are you coming down to dinner?"

"Quick!" said James, his head whipping around. "Hide the tray!"

()

"Lily! Thank goodness!" said Mrs. Evans breathlessly, ushering her daughter over the threshold. "Where have you been? Petunia only told me this morning – Vernon's coming to dinner."

She closed the door hastily behind Lily, looking flustered. Her friendly, round face was red-cheeked and she was wearing an elegant turquoise evening dress that set off her hair prettily. Its colour was somewhere half-way between her daughters': a soft shade of brown set off by strands of copper.

Lily, however, had blanched at the mention of Petunia's boyfriend, her good mood evaporating instantly. "What? He's coming to dinner?"

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Evans impatiently, leading Lily past the kitchen, where she glimpsed a green salad on the counter and pots steaming on the stove. It seemed as though her mother had been cooking all afternoon in expectation of Vernon, which made her feel bad immediately. Instead of helping her mother, she had been out with Nora and Marlene all day, in the shops and at Marlene's house, forgetting about the time.

"Oh, Mum, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "You've been working so hard and I've been away all day. I should have been -"
"Darling," Mrs. Evans interrupted gently. "You always work so hard at school, being a prefect and all – I think you deserve to have a bit more fun and free time when you're at home. Your father and I are glad you have such nice friends to spend time with, really, and it's your first day back."

They had reached the stairs. "Now, Vernon's arriving in ten minutes and as much as I love your old jeans and that sweater -," Mrs. Evans stroked Lily's shoulder, loosening a few leaves that must have caught there when they had been sitting in Marlene's garden, "-I've laid out a dress upstairs for you to wear and maybe you could clean your hair." She paused. "Vernon's a little conservative."

Lily sighed. "Do I really have to be there?" she asked. "I mean, maybe it's best if I stay upstairs or go to Marlene's for the night. You know Petunia doesn't want me to meet him anyway."

Mrs. Evans looked hurt. "You're part of this family, too, Lily," she said very firmly. "And you will be at this dinner party. I know things have been … difficult between you and Petunia for a long time, but this may be the last summer you two spend under the same roof –" She bit her lip. "Just try, Lily."

"I am trying!" said Lily with force, feeling sudden tears sting her eyes. "But Tuney – Petunia – she just won't talk to me!"

Her voice seemed to have carried into the garden, because her father appeared in the open doorway a moment later, looking concerned. "Everything all right in here?" His eyes passed from his stricken-looking daughter to his wife and back again. "Flower, Mary –"

Lily loved her father's kindness and concern and the look on her parents' face felt like a punch in the stomach. She hated to make them sad like this. So with an effort, Lily made her face relax into a smile. "It's all right, Dad," she said. "Mum was just trying to convince me wear that awful grey dress this evening and I told her I would rather Transfigure myself into a circus tent and run down the street before even considering that. Even if it would mean breaking the International Statute of Secrecy.

Immediately, her father's face relaxed into a laugh. "I'd like to see that!" he said, and seemingly convinced that this really had only been an argument about dresses and circus tents – and knowing Lily's temper, which was always quick to flare – he turned and headed towards the garden again. "And you may want to brush your hair before dinner!" he called over his shoulder as he went.

Lily snorted, turning to climb the stairs and determinedly not looking at her mother. "Nobody likes the natural look anymore," she pretended to grumble as she went. "I tell you, if I were living in the woods, everyone would –"

"Lily –," began Mrs. Evans, at the bottom of the stairs, sounding worried. She had, of course, noticed that Lily was only trying to cover up her feelings and was trying to escape her. But Lily didn't intend to finish their conversation – if she was to be in any fit state to receive her sister's glorious boyfriend for the first time, it was definitely not advisable to stand around discussing their own botched relationship.

"Don't worry, Mum," she called downstairs. "I'll be on my best behaviour." And even though she wanted nothing more than to turn on her heel and flee from the house and the inevitable disaster this dinner would be, she knew she couldn't do it, not after the hope she had heard in her mother's voice. Seven minutes to compose herself had to be enough.

()

"Sirius!" Mrs. Potter spread her arms wide as the four Marauders came into the dining room. "And Remus and Peter!" She looked at each of their faces as if they were the lost boys come home at last. "You are all going the same way as James – up, up and ever higher!"

James smiled, hovering in the dining room door as Mrs. Potter hugged his three friends. She seemed genuinely excited to have them here and not for the first time did he feel glad that she only knew of half the detentions the Marauders had gotten in and mercifully even fewer of the pranks they had pulled. If had known about the one where Sirius had turned Professor Flitwick's hair blue, for instance …

But Mrs. Potter loved the four Marauders and when James thought about it, they really were like the lost boys in the Peter Pan story. Sirius with his 'toujours pure'-crazy family, Remus living with his quiet, lonely father, Peter and his six siblings, whose parents didn't have any affectionate moments to spare …

Then James's eyes fell on his father. He was sitting silently at the end of the dinner table, his dark eyes following the spectacle of Mrs. Potter welcoming James's friends and seating them around the table, Sirius making jokes and Remus as quietly polite as always.

John Potter was a tall, powerfully built man who always looked a little disdainful, as if what he saw displeased him. He could be moody and withdrawn at times, spending whole holidays locked in his home office and only emerging for breakfast and dinner.

James had always admired him for his power and his intelligence, but there was also a certain degree of coldness about him that made him feel uneasy.

"James," said Mr. Potter, getting to his feet. "Welcome home, son."

"Thanks, Dad," said James a little stiffly, walking forward and dropping into a seat next to Sirius as Elfie came in with the soup. "How's work?"

Mr. Potter raised an eyebrow. "Very busy, as you might have gathered from the papers."

"There is a case against anti-Muggle campaigning going on at the moment, isn't there?" piped up Remus, who was very interested in politics and probably the only non-Ravenclaw student to read the Daily Prophet cover to cover every morning. "Has it gone to trial yet?"
"It was quite a bit more than anti-Muggle campaigning," said Mr. Potter darkly. "There was torture and the destruction of several Muggle houses in the Greater London area. The Aurors haven't caught who's responsible yet, but – "
"I hope they kill whoever hurt those people," interrupted Sirius rather savagely, grabbing a roll from the bread basket. "It's disgusting, like torturing animals - Muggles can't defend themselves against wizards, either." He stared darkly at his plate. "It sounds like the sort of thing my family would get themselves involved in."

"Sirius!" exclaimed Mrs. Potter in shock. "Don't say such a thing!"

Before Sirius could reply, Remus jumped in again. "But do you have any clues who it might be, Mr. Potter? Any leads?"

Mr. Potter actually smiled at this indulgently, evidently liking Remus's interest. "I can't tell you any of the details, but the curious thing about these cases is that the attackers seem to be very … young."

"Young?" repeated James, frowning. "You mean, school age?"
Mr. Potter nodded gravely, but before he could answer, Mrs. Potter spoke up: "Now, let's not have talk of such dark things over dinner, John. The boys have only just arrived back from Hogwarts and with their OWLs finished, too." She smiled around at them all. "I spoke to Professor Greybeard at the committee last week and he told me your results will be arriving in two weeks."

"Well, we should get some living done until then," said James, swapping a grin with Sirius. "Moony's probably the only one who got a few OWLs out of the four of us."

"Hey!" protested Peter. "I studied."

"Fine, you'll probably get one in Charms, Pete," allowed Sirius.

Peter still looked annoyed and Remus patted his arm kindly. "I'm sure you did all right, Peter. I mean, we practiced together so much, you must have passed that exam with flying colours."
"I don't care how well I passed it, as long as it's good enough to get me a career as an Auror," replied Peter in a longing sort of voice. He looked up at the portrait hanging above the mantelpiece: Alexis Potter, James's grandfather, who had been a famous Auror in his days. Since Peter had met him in the Easter holidays of their fourth year, he had worshipped him almost as much as James himself, including the profession he held.

"You want to be an Auror, you say?" asked Mr. Potter, looking up from his soup. "That's a lot of hard work, son, mind you."

Peter bit his lip. "I know, sir, but I will try my very best. It would be good to do something to … support my family a little. They don't have much money."

Mrs. Potter smiled at him. "That sounds nice, Peter," she said. "But I hope you're also doing it for yourself. It's a very tough profession."

"Exactly," said Sirius, in a mock-serious voice, "have you ever really imagined what you look like without a nose? Witch Weekly did a quiz on that a few weeks ago."

James snorted into his soup. "You didn't," he muttered.

"I did." Sirius pulled something from his pocket and unfolded it. The Marauders and Mr. and Mrs. Potter leaned forward to peer down at what looked like a newspaper article with a pink frame in the middle. Where it said "Stick your own photo here", Sirius had glued a photograph of himself, white spot in the middle of his face.

The Marauders laughed.

"We should do that with a picture of Snivellus and send it to him for his birthday!" suggested James (His mother looked at him reproachfully).

"Well, I think it's time for the second course," she said and immediately Elfie reappeared, carrying a huge roast in her tiny arms. It obscured her face so only her pointy ears stuck up from behind the meat.

Sirius nudged James. "I think we're going to have a good summer," he muttered.

James grinned back at him. "I think so, too."