Author Note: After some wiki research I found that the marauder era started in 1971. I'm going to try stay as close to what I imagine is cannon for these characters. Please R&R.

September 1st 1971

Kale Bastion sat bemused in a plush chair in the powder room of the Scarlet Lady Inn. Around him was a flurry of skirts and cleavage as the women of the Inn attacked his clothing and hair with maternal ferocity. The Scarlet Lady was an appropriate name for the inn, the dingy bar and inn was only a façade for the brothel upstairs. The prostitutes varied in age from nineteen to early thirties, and all had felt obligated to take in Kale; especially upon discovering his knack for lifting wallets.

They had been his make shift family his whole life. Kale's mother had been a young prostitute who had died giving birth to Kale. The women of the Scarlet Lady had taken him in as his father, no doubt some drunk patron, had been conspicuously absent. He had never really known a family other than the women of the brothel. They had become the cumulative mother figure in his life, or more accurately fourteen mother figures.

It seemed his life had transformed 180 degrees in the past two months. When he had turned eleven an elderly women, who claimed to be both a witch and professor, had arrived at the inn and told Kale in confidence that he was a wizard. Now Kale was not stupid, in fact he fancied himself to be rather bright, and he knew that he was… different. His abilities to make fires appear, make people forget, and to tear seems of clothing were not things that people should be able to do. However, Kale had found his powers allowed him to exceed on the streets when most young boys would have starved. But a wizard? That seemed a little bizarre.

Originally, Kale's natural skepticism overruled his insatiable curiosity and he reluctantly denied her request to attend the school, but in turn sshe had performed a piece of extraordinary magic, transforming herself into a small cat, and that alone had sold Kale. He was going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly, regardless of how ridiculous the name was. The woman, Professor McGonagall, had told his mothers that Kale had been accepted to a prestigious academy for brilliant young adults. Kale's mothers weren't the smartest women and didn't ask many question. For example ,they were under the impression that Kale was simply a natural sleight of hand artist, not that he was using magic to tear peoples' slacks. Therefore, it was with ease that Professor McGonagall managed to convince them that Kale had been offered a scholarship to a prestigious boarding school for brilliant young adults.

Kale was pulled out of his musing by Jasmine, one of the younger girls that worked the Scarlet Lady, "And don't arse about when you get there, you understand me Kale? The train leaves at eleven sharp. You understand Kale?"

"Right, right, I get it," he huffed and purposely ruffled his combed hair, earning him a cuffing from one of the girls.

"And do try not to fall asleep, I know you can't help it, but do try," add Leila, an older whore, anxiously. Kale fixed Leila with his best eleven year old glare. He couldn't help it if he fell asleep when he was anxious. After further research, or as much research as an eleven year old street urchin could do, he found his disorder was called narcolepsy. However, Kale's narcolepsy was a rare case as it is only triggered by stress or nervousness. If he controlled his emotions he could usually control his… problem.

The women of the Scarlet Lady shuffled him out into the crowded, dusty London street and ushered him into a cab, some of them crying, others worried or proud. He could name each of their secrets, dreams, and desires. He didn't realize how dearly he would miss them all until he was whisked away by the scrappy yellow cab on the unusually bright London afternoon. He turned away from the window and sat down facing forward as the cab turned around the corner. He knew how much a cab must have cost them, and how much money they did not have. He was extremely grateful.

During the cab ride, Kale lay down along the seat and pulled out his new wand. He shielded it from the view of the cab driver as he recalled the pleasant trip he and Professor McGonagall had taken to the erratic wand maker's shop.

"You see, this is what the world is like for us," said Professor McGonagall as she whirled her arms about indicating everything within Diagon Alley. Kale looked around and took note, not for the first time, of the wildly differing array of character wearing brightly tailored robes, some toting exotic animals, and all walking busily with a destination in mind.

"If wizards are us, then regular people are just everybody else?" asked Kale, his mind swirling with new questions.

The professor took her time answering the question, "Well yes and no. We are witches and wizards, non-magic folk are referred to by us as muggles. Are worlds are separate, yet impossibly connected. We do our best to remain invisible to them, as it is better to remain unnoticed."

Kale nodded, he was completely enthralled in the conversation. He had a quick, curious mind made for absorbing information.

Professor McGonagall watched the boy intently as he processed her words. He had these peculiar, distant eyes. Almost as if he was thinking too fast to allow his other senses priority. That seemed to be the case as Minerva swiftly pulled him out of the way from a headlong collision with a stranger's owl cage. Kale was startled out of his thoughts.

"Are there bad wizards?" he asked. He assumed there must be, if magical people had so much in common with muggles, omitting the obvious difference.

McGonagall cleared her throat, "Yes of course, we are people too, just like muggles, we have flaws," she paused a bit and her face darkened, "of course, some are worse than others." She did not seem to want to talk about it any longer so Kale changed the topic, "what's next on the list?"

She glanced down at her list and smiled slightly, one of the first smiles he had seen on her young face, "We go to Ollivander's wand shop, then on to school books, then-" she stiffened awkwardly and looked down at Kale, "you do know how to read don't you?"

Kale fixed her with a flat stare, though he supposed it wasn't a terrible question considering how he was raised. "Yes. I can read." Bethanie, one of the youngest and most intelligent of Kale's mothers had taught him how to read.

The teacher coughed uncomfortably and led Kale into a dusty building with a worn sign reading Ollivander's.

In retrospect the wand shop had been Kale's favorite part. He examined the small piece wood that was his wand.

"12 and ½ inches long, Acacia with a tail hair from a Chimera. Very flexible," Ollivander's words rang in his head. The old man was creepy, but he seemed to really know his stuff.

"King Cross Station, lad," barked the cab driver. Kale exited the car and dragged his trunk to a nearby trolley. This was the part he'd been dreading. He scanned the enormous train station with its multiple platforms, searching inevitably for the platform that couldn't possibly be there."

"Platform 9 and ¾ what rubbish," Kale mumbled underneath his breath. He checked a clock above a platform that read was running out. He decided the next logical course of action was to look for folk similar to the ones he'd seen in Diagon Alley. Sure enough between platform 9 and 10 were an odd-looking group. They had matching robes of a deep blue, and cages filled with cats and owls.

"Perfect," whispered Kale to himself as he slinked behind them and watched their behavior. His eyes widened as he saw them rush into a large brick pillar and move seamlessly through with their trolleys.

"Far out," he said aloud. He then braced his body and rushed full speed towards the barrier.

Upon opening his eyes, the young boy's jaw dropped as he saw an enormous gleaming locomotive that dwarfed everything around it. It leaked silvery smoke from its top like a massive metal dragon. Families surrounded the train, crying mothers hugging children, young and old, and fathers offering last minute advice. Kale felt of pang of jealousy watching the heartfelt farewells and remembering that his time was limited, Kale ran onto the train and dragged his trunk into one the furthest back compartments.

He slid the compartment door open and found it unoccupied; he eagerly made his way inside and claimed it as his own. The compartment was warm and cozy and Kale found it comforting. It reminded him of his tiny room back at the Inn.

A loud bang from outside his compartment drew Kale's attention.

"What do you think you're doing? You think you can just waltz in here and-" the rest of the words were obscured by the sound a body hitting the door of Kale's compartment. The person met the door with a loud thump.

"Serves you right!" the voice then disappeared down the hallway, and the victim of the trashing opened the door and limped in. He was a young boy, probably the same age as Kale, though a little taller. His hair was a rich black and it was sticking up in odd angles all over his head. He had round glasses that were currently askew on his face.

He sat down with huff. Kale was about to offer to mend his leg as he was rather use to healing himself whenever he would earn a beating from the rough neighborhood children. But Kale's offer was cut short by the young man in front of him, "Can you believe the nerve of her? I'm James Potter!" He paused slightly and frowned a bit at the floor, "James Potter!" he shouted again. Kale reeled back slightly. He was unsure if he was supposed to recognize the name, he supposed he was.

The boy frowned at him again, "What's your name again?"

Kale reached out his hand, "Kale Bastion, I'm new to-"

"Bastion?" the boy cut across his words rudely, "What kind of a name is that?"

"A last name," Kale deadpanned. The surname belonged to no one, neither his biological mother nor anonymous father; it was a bastard's name, chosen by Kale for its etymology, meaning fortress.

James Potter huffed at Kale's dry humor, but shook his hand anyway. Kale decidedly did not like this boy's attitude, and therefore decided not to heal his leg. The two said nothing else and sat in uncomfortable silence the remainder of the trip. Once the train stopped, the two left the compartment and separated. Kale's attention was stolen by an enormous man in a huge raggedy trench coat.

"Firs' years! Firs years! Come on, the lotta ya!" He was a mountain of a man with a fuzzy black beard shrouding his face. Kale barely came up to his knees. He decided to obey this gigantic man's orders and shuffled into a large wooden boat with the other first years. They crossed an enormous black lake crammed against each other. Kale decided to find out the big man's name.

"'Agrid, yors?" the big man responded.

"Kale," he answered. "So what happens now? I'm new to this whole thing," Hagrid chuckled a sympathetic chuckle.

"Now lad we go ta the castle and you're tested to see what house you'll get puttin. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, slimy lot they are."

The castle was just that, a castle of gigantic proportions. It was magnificent in its grandeur. It had large keeps and sweeping gothic buttresses that were painted a matching black by the darkness of coming night. It seemed to Kale that everything in the magical world was bigger than him. This test had him worried. What if he failed? He was not prepared for this. Kale, who usually tried to keep his emotions neutral, because of his narcolepsy, felt a familiar anxiety creeping over him. He couldn't help it! He was just nervous for the test.

They landed quietly on the shore and Hagrid led the group towards the large wooden doors, which he opened with ease. The inside was a magnificent hall, flooded with students and the clearly older faculty at the head of the hall. Candles were floating and the ceiling matched the ominous sky outside.

A tall old man stood from his place at the head table and addressed himself as headmaster Dumbledore, "Welcome, old and new students, to a wonderful and hopefully prosperous new year. Before we learn, even before we eat, there is the matter of the eager new students we have here today. Without further ado, let the sorting begin!"

While the old man had been talking, an old stool with an even older hat had appeared in the center of the great hall between all four tables.

"Avery, Marcus!" The hat shouted. Several of the first years jumped backwards when the hat shouted. Kale included. The young boy in question, Avery, strutted confidently to the stool and cooly placed the hat on his own head. It covered his head down to his nose. Kale was envious of the boy's confidence. Kale's own hands were sweating and if he guessed right, they were calling students alphabetically. For the first time Kale cursed himself for picking a last name so near the beginning of the alphabet.

"Slytherin!" the hat shouted, and the table to Kale's right stood, clapped, and shouted. The young boy ran gleefully to meet the table.

"Bastion, Kale!" Kale made his way slowly towards the hat, his mind racing with possibilities. He sat on the stool and shakily placed the hat on his head.

"Interesting this one. You have a good brain, brilliant in fact. You would do well in Ravenclaw, but no, no, you don't seem like the studious type. Cunning for sure, but far too unambitious for Slytherin. Hufflepuff is laughable, you are far to hardened for the black and yellow. You're daring, but that does not always mean courageous. Hmm, where to place you…"

Kale Bastion saw darkness.

Please remember to REVIEW. I'd love to know your opinions on my story. PLEASE.