January 30th, 1977

James Potter woke up feeling like a hundred silver sickles. Yes, sickles; not galleons.

He felt good, like after a positive Quidditch practice, but not like he had just won a game against Slytherin. His limbs were good and stretched, but not floating on cloud nine either. He had needed that shag more than he cared to admit, because it had been almost two months since he had gotten any before Camilla.

And it was better than James had expected, not that he expected much. Most girls in Hogwarts were in fact virgins, except his cousin, girls going steady, and the girls who didn't give a rat's arse about their count. He liked the latter kind the best, which turned out that Camilla fell under that said-category.

Camilla was not a jaded expert, but she was by no means chaste. She was tight and still gasped at the first time he slid into her, but she knew how to keep up. Perhaps there were one too many forced moans, or actual nail marks, but nothing he hadn't seen before. It was the best thing he could've asked for.

The only thing better would be Lily Evans offering to shag him in the nearest broom cupboard. But realistic dreams were sometimes sexier than wild, outlandish, completely impossible fantasies, right?

James felt like smacking himself in the face right then and there on the staircase, but stopped himself when he noticed the many nearby students, heading to breakfast. The imaginary angel on his shoulder tsked loudly, reminding him that it wasn't fair to compare Camilla to Lily.

Especially considering the way Camilla bent herself over the teacher's desk for him.

"Fuck," he let out quietly.

James knew his mates would already be at breakfast, awaiting to hear the details concerning last night's shag. But he was in no mood to discuss gonad interactions anymore. Not with Lily Evans burrowing into his unconscious.

So, the Quidditch captain decided to keep going straight instead of heading into the Great Hall for breakfast. He wrapped his cloak around him tightly and pushed open the door out to the courtyard. The air was nippy, and the ground had patches of dark snow laying around. It wasn't a pretty sight, but it was bearable as James sat on a bench right outside and pulled a cig out of his pocket. He lit and took a few puffs before releasing smoke, watching it mingle into the morning fog.

It was a peaceful moment, but just that: a moment. He was a third done before he heard intense nasal sounds coming from a distant bench in the courtyard. He leaned over to get a peek, not wanting to be obvious, but still curious because this was James Potter.

He nearly choked at the sight, and it was not because of the tobacco. Bijal Gupta was crying. The Head Girl was not known for her tears; she was a stern and disciplined young witch. She took her duties seriously and was not afraid to deduct points or give detentions to unruly students. James was often on the receiving end.

And because James had been victimized previously by Gupta's zero tolerance, he had no intentions of invading her crying session. She'd likely send him to a week of detention for seeing her in such a state.

But, he had never seen her so sad.

Before he knew it, James was walking up to the Head Girl. "Gupta, you all right?" He asked before he could stop himself. Maybe she wouldn't be a defensive crier. "You need anything?" He continued.

Bijal lifted her head. Her brown eyes were twinkling with tears, and her face was a bit puffy. It looked like she had been crying for a long time. "Shit, Potter," she cursed, sitting up a bit straighter. She wiped her sleeve across her eyes to remove the rest of the falling tears. She hiccuped before saying, "I'm fine."

James' eyebrows lifted; it was much tamer response. "Well, that's a debate," he said after a moment, earning him a glare.

"I'm fine," she repeated, trying harder this time.

"Fine," James said shortly, taking in a long inhale of cigarette, "is there anything I can get you then? A spot of tea? A book? Seems like you want to stay out here in the cold. Chasing hypothermia?"

"And you, lung cancer?" the Head Girl countered sharply.

"Keeps me thin."

"I should be biting your head off right about now," she continued, letting her natural glare show again. "You're a sixth year now, Potter, and the Quidditch Captain. You should have some responsibility and decency for the younger students- why the fuck are you giggling at me like a prepubescent school girl?"

"I am the cutest school girl," James said, trying to hide his laugh now. He smiled at her. "It's just nice to hear you sounding like you."

Bijal paused briefly before nodding, "Well, you're surprisingly good at doing that."

He shrugged. "Marlene McKinnon is my cousin."

She scoffed, "That's a lot of… emotions to deal with, I reckon."

"You have no idea," he agreed, sitting beside the Head Girl. "You want to talk about whatever is you weren't crying about."

Bijal took a deep breath, looking up at the cloudy sky. She bit her lip and professed, like she were at some kind of confessional, "Something happened last night in the castle."

James' eyes widened, but said nothing. Instead of speaking, he chose to sit beside his peer and wait for her to continue.

She gave him an intense glare, causing him to sit up a bit straighter. "Don't tell anyone, Potter, or I swear to Merlin, I will send you to a week's worth of detention with Filch. Understood?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," James agreed, but everyone should know that if you tell James Potter something, you might as well be telling the rest of the student Marauders.

Students swore Marlene McKinnon was either murdered, injured, or at least witnessed some sort of atrocity as she screamed at the Hufflepuff table during breakfast. But when nothing of the sort occurred, an air of annoyance shifted through the Hall. As students and staff glared, Marlene gave everyone a stern look. "Go back to your own business," she insisted, waving off the nosy eavesdroppers. She turned back to Lily, Mary, and Emmeline and let out a sigh, "You'd think they'd have something better to listen to, aye? Okay, Mary, proceed."

Mary MacDonald's cheeks were red hot due the intensity of her friends' stares and memories from the previous night. "It's not like we did anything major," she mumbled while using her glass to cool her face. "We just, you know, what'd the Americans say? Second base, third base? I always get it mixed up."

"Depends on what you did," Lily Evans smirked.

"Bases?" Emmeline Kim asked Marlene, "Military reference?"

"Who knows? Americans are mad, the whole lot of them," Marlene shrugged. "Mary, give us details. The nitty gritty, and don't leave out the size of his dangly bits."

Mary blushed harder and threw her balled-up napkin at her friend. She pouted before whispering, "He got a poke."

"That's my girl," Emmeline nodded proudly, patting Mary on the back.

The girls listened attentively as Mary relayed her night to them, all except Lily. She instead drifted into her own thoughts about her own pre-shag affair. Merlin, that was terrible. Crying like a drunken idiot and all because she can't bring herself to shag her boyfriend.

Lily didn't even know why she couldn't either.; that was the most frustrating part. Instead of sleeping, she just laid there, cuddled up in her boyfriend's arms, wondering why she tapped out? Connor was great though, because of course. Her boyfriend was perfect; he tucked her right into bed after bringing her water and a hangover potion for the morning. He gave her a peck before snuggling up right next to her and passing out. His kindness almost made her feel more guilty.

And Lily knew that was dumb in its own right. She felt like her emotions were back in first year flying lessons with Madam Hooch: up and down, up and down, up and then your ass to the grass.

The bell rang after a moment, snapping Lily out of her frustrations. She picked up her knapsack and slung it over her shoulder. All four of them had DADA on Monday mornings, and they like all the other Hogwarts students rushed through the entrance of the Great Hall to make it to their first period.

As the students entered the classroom, waiting for this year's DADA Professor, Thalia Novak, Lily noticed quite the lack of noise. Normally, the Marauders were doing something grandiose before sitting at desks for more than an hour. They had to get their jitters out somehow. This would constitute of jinxing something or someone, or charming something to entertain the lot. However, it was pretty quiet this Monday morning.

"Eerie," Lily murmured quietly, sitting in her own seat. Marlene sat beside Mary, as Emmeline slowly moved to sit beside her boyfriend. She watched Emmeline's rather bored face, as she said hello to him.

Robert Vance was a half-blood with average looks: dark-haired, caramel skin, and well-gelled black hair. He was in Ravenclaw and often kept his head in books or comics, never making much time for Emmeline anymore. She always used to say that he was so creative and unique, but recently, the Hufflepuff girl was fed-up with her Ravenclaw boyfriend. A few moments in, Lily noticed their weak conversation. She always thought that Emmeline was way out of Vance's lead.

Lily's concentration snapped when a large figure slid in next to her. When she figured it was James Potter, she scoffed, "Oh, yes, Potter, make yourself right at home."

"Don't mind if I do, Evans," he said, as he pulled out his textbooks.

"Why aren't you sitting next to your girlfriend?" She countered, jerking her head in Sirius' direction, who was partnered up with Remus.

"He switches between Remus and I pretty frequently," the Quidditch captain snapped. "Either way, we need to talk."

The serious tone in his voice made Lily gulp. His hazel eyes darkened with intensity, and she could tell that he was completely serious. And there were only three things that James really focused on recently: Marauder pranks, Quidditch, and finding out who Mason Nagut's child is.

"Merlin…" Lily said, punching the bridge of her nose. Before James could divulge the information, Professor Novak entered in hastily, spewing out pieces of knowledge for the students to take down.

"Is Pine okay?" Mary asked, her chin crinkling with fear. "I mean, will she be?"

"Gupta says she'll be all right," James revealed as the large group of students sat in the courtyard. "But, it was a nasty fall. Lots of bones to heal, so it'll take time."

Sirius Black lit a cigarette. "It'll probably take time for the emotional healing too. She probably won't forget what it's like to get pushed down a flight of stairs by blood supremacists," he offered.

The group sat in silence for a moment, letting it sink in that the anti-usupers have already two assaults on their hands. No one dared asked the question, besides Peter Pettigrew.

"Who's next?" He asked meekly, looking to his friends.

"My galleon is still on Dorcas," Sirius suggested.

The rest of the group let out aggravated sighs; they've heard this accusation one too many times.

"Give it a rest, Black," Marlene insisted, taking his cigarette right from his lips. She took a deep inhale and said, "Dorcas Meadowes has proved that she's only just a girl. A girl. She likes to hook-up and leave, smoke cigarettes, and apparently listen to punk rock like AC/DC."

"She also sleeps longer than the bloody Sandman," the dark-haired boy continued, trying to remain rational. He stole back his cigarette from Marlene and continued, "No one sleeps for that long."

"She has insomnia," Remus pointed out.

"Does anyone care to ask her why?" Sirius argued.

"Insomnia can be genetic," Lily suggested. "Maybe someone in her family has it?"

"Or maybe she has night terrors," Mary added.

Sirius snapped and pointed at Mary. "See? Did everyone hear that? Night terrors. Night terrors do not come to ordinary people, Mates."

"You've never had a nightmare before, Black?" Marlene asked doubtfully.

"Ha," Sirius let out a short mirthless laugh. "Love, you should've seen my family home. Of course, I know about them. And I know that night-to-night nightmares only occur to those with some serious bullshite on their hands or PTSD."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You know about PTSD?"

"I did a lot of muggle reading to piss off my mum," Sirius shrugged, causing the rest of the group to chuckle rather quietly. "She either saw the worst in real life, or someone is making her seeing something."

"Like ligilmens?" James thought aloud.

"Like ligilmens," Sirius repeated.

Remus sat a bit straighter, but chose to keep his mouth shut. To pre-occupy himself, he pulled out a joint and lit it.

"Wait, wait, wait," Marlene said, shaking her hands. "You reckon that Dorcas is Mason Nagut's child, and is using ligilmens on her. That makes no sense."

"And why not?"

"Because," Marlene said as if it were obvious, "if you remember correctly, the Prophet article cited Mason Nagut. And he wants his heir to be the next Dark Lord. Why would he be harming Dorcas through ligilmens if he wants her to be the next Dark ruler? That seems highly counterproductive, aye?"

"Or maybe it strengthens her in Nagut's eyes," countered Sirius, "I'm not saying it has to make sense because he's a bloody sociopath. For Merlin's sake, the monster tortured, raped, and killed women for fun. He's obviously fucking mental."

Sirius' friends cringed at the thought of Mason Nagut and cringed even harder when they all collectively thought of Dorcas being his child. There was no way, right? But then again, Sirius just proved that there was no way to tell either.

Dorcas Meadowes dreamt of Hell.

A dark cave-like place with bright red flames boiling human flesh; the smell and sight was horrific. She stood quietly, shaking but silent. Even though Dorcas preferred loneliness, she had never felt it like this before. Bones marked a pathway up to a bonfire-like place and on top, there was a burning screaming body.

Dorcas walked hesitantly up to the bones as he feet crunched against what felt like shards of glass. The heat was unbearable, and she felt the waves nearly push her back. But, she pushed her way through to see whose body lay burning before her.

It was a woman. A beautiful woman with long flowing brown hair, tan skin, and in a white loose dress. She screamed, reaching octaves that Dorcas could barely hear. But, what scared her more than that was that she recognized the screams. They were ones from her childhood, ones of terror and disgust.

And when Dorcas was close enough to finally get a look at the woman's face, Dorcas fell to her knees and screamed. She clutched her head and tried to push away from the image, apologizing as if it were her fault that the woman burned.

But then again, maybe it was Dorcas' fault. It was all Dorcas' fault.

"Dorcas! Dorcas!"

"I'm sorry," she begged, feeling her limbs fail against strong, yet wrinkly hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Open your eyes, Dorcas! Now!"

Dorcas did as she was told and found herself drenched in her own sweat and wrapped in her sheets. The hands on her shoulders belonged to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, whose blue eyes looked at her intensely, yet worriedly. She was panting, gasping onto air and reality.

Her blue eyes peered around the room and saw that her dorm mates were watching her with wide eyes: anxious, disgusted, and horrified by the sight of her.

"H-how long?" Dorcas asked shakily to her Headmaster.

Dumbledore put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Don't think about it, my dear. Let's get you some chocolate and some tea." He helped her up and put a blanket around her as they walked out.

The students didn't say anything outright as Dorcas left the dormitory, but she heard Lucinda Talkalot murmur to another Slytherin, "The mudblood was screaming for nearly twenty minutes, apologizing for someone's fucking death. She sure is mental all right."

Dorcas gulped as she followed Dumbledore, wondering when the Headmaster would stop protecting her… from whatever it is trying to rip her from the inside out.

February 1st, 1977

"Got it from the outside," Sirius smirked as he dropped the Daily Prophet on James' bed. The Marauders, plus Lily and Marlene, sat in their dorm room in a circle. It was evening time, after classes and dinner, and Sirius had just come back from the Owlery.

"How'd you get it again?" asked Marlene, picking it up and flipping through the pages.

"My uncle," Sirius clarified, plopping on his own bed. Lily cocked an eyebrow, suspicious and curious. "He's dying and does not give a rat's arse about any type of censorship rules created by Dumbledore." He added a smirk towards the end.

"Found it!" Marlene smiled eagerly. She skimmed through it quickly; her sapphire eyes moving at a rapid rate. Her lips mouthed the words, but she said nothing.

James pushed her cousin on the head. "Share, you greedy git."

Marlene gave her cousin a leathel look and glared, "Don't touch my hair." She turned back to her newspaper, sitting a little straighter now as James rolled his eyes. She cleared her throat and read aloud:

Mason Nagut's Kiss

By Joanna Henley

Today, February 1st, 1978, at roughly 12:23pm, Mason Nagut received the kiss from two dementors at Azkaban prison. Mason Nagut is an infamous wizard, and a Grindlewald fanatic who was known for his attacks against muggle women in the 1950s. After his latest breakout attempt, the Minister of Magic decided that this would be the best option for the sake of the wizarding and muggle community.

Reporters said that Nagut's final words were to his unknown heir. As reported last time, Mason Nagut is under the impression that he has an illegitimate heir, most likely a result of one of his attacks. He believed that this heir is more powerful and more pure than the Dark Lord himself. Here are his last words to his supposed child:

"A time will come when our shared vision will come to light. You will make Grindlewald proud, you will make wizard-kind proud. Our race will rule, and it will be done by you. This is your prophecy, and this your legacy. Stay strong, stay driven, and stay pure. You are the ultimate, you are the future, my child."

The kiss was administered straight afterwards. It is unknown if said-child does exist, and it is unlikely that he or she will hear his words. Either way, chances are the Dark Lord has heard this claim. It is unknown how it will affect the state of the magical world: a duel between two heirs.

Once Marlene finished, the six Gryffindor students all had the same response: "Fuck."

A/N - I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Things are getting pretty heated, I hope everyone enjoys the direction. Let me know what you think in the reviews! Or follow or favorite.

Enjoy!

- Rose