You can get help from teachers, but you are going to have to learn a lot by yourself, sitting alone in a room.

-Dr. Seuss

Peter scurried ahead. "Come on, guys, this way!" he groaned, running back to them and then pulling ahead again. "Come on, I don't want to be late!" James smirked. Peter had been looking forward to Astronomy all week. It was now Wednesday night, and they were making their way to the Astronomy tower for their first lesson.

Peter loved the idea of space-vast, uncontrolled, endless, mysterious, untainted. The stars fascinated him, their patterns were a source of constant amazement, the planets that orbited them held no end of wonder. If someone would let him, Peter could talk about space for hours on end. James grinned as he looked into Peter's face, usually pointed and rat-like, but now shining with the fullness that excitement had lent it. Sirius barked a laugh and ran to catch up with Peter. James and Remus exchanged amused glances before taking off after them, laughing all the way.

"...think she'll let us use the telescopes?" Peter was asking excitedly to no one in particular as they waited outside the door that concealed the staircase.

"Oh, I hope so!" replied Evans. Her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement that rivalled Peter's. "I wonder what we'll be studying first," she mused. Her green eyes grew distant as she dreamt of the wonders Astronomy had in store.

Peter answered knowledgeably, "I expect we'll be starting with the closer formations, like the Moon, and then..." James watched him gush about space with Evans. He was glad to see Peter opening up a bit; he could be quite shy at the most inopportune moments, and it made him an easy target for the older Slytherins. Even though they had already been at school for three whole days, plus the night they were Sorted, Evans was the first person, outside Sirius, Remus, and himself, that Peter had actually exchanged more than a quiet "hello" with.

James met Sirius' eye, and knew that he was thinking the same thing. Remus joined their conversation, since Peter had been looking uneasy at first. Evans was now telling a story, about stars, it seemed. As she told it, she was gesticulating wildly.

"...a son of the sea god, Poseidon, and was a mighty hunter. He single-handedly rid an island called Chios of wild, rabid, monstrous beasts, with teeth as long as a wand and sharp as Gryffindor's sword, and eyes that glowed like embers, and fur that was ragged and matted. He was so good a hunter, in fact, that Artemis, goddess of the hunt, the moon, and wild creatures, invited him to hunt with her on Crete. However, the lovely goddess of the dawn, Eos, was there too, and she fell hopelessly in love with him. Artemis became quite jealous, and, in a rage, sent a massive scorpion to sting him. Only afterwards, when it was too late, Artemis realised what she had done, and she imprinted his image in the stars. To this day, Orion the Hunter flees Scorpio across the heavens," she finished with a dramatic drop in her voice. Peter's eyes were wide with awe, and Remus leaned forward.

"Evans-"

"Lily," she corrected cheerily. James saw Snivellus, who had also been listening, scowl.

"Alright then, Lily," Remus continued, smiling slightly, "can you tell me more about Artemis? She sounds cool."

"Oh, yes, she's my favourite!" Evans agreed excitedly. "Like I said, she's the goddess of the hunt, the moon, and all wild creatures. She's also the goddess of virgins, and-"

"Virgins?" James asked. "What's a virgin?" Slowly, Evans, Snivellus, Remus, Sirius, and Peter all turned to stare at him. Evans and Sirius were both turning red, but for different reasons-Evans was stammering uncomfortably, while Sirius was obviously struggling to hold in a laugh.

Remus began explaining, slowly, as if talking to a five-year-old. "Well, James, a virgin is a person who hasn't... Um..." Remus, too, began flushing. "How do I say this?" he asked desperately.

"James, a virgin is a person who hasn't had sex," Peter stated bluntly. Sirius stared at him.

"Wow, Peter, didn't know you had it in you. Well, there you go, Jamsie-" Sirius broke off, howls of laughter sending him, gasping, to his knees. James' hazel eyes had widened considerably behind his glasses, which were giving them a greater effect.

"Evans, do you mind changing the subject?" he pleaded.

"'Course not," she replied briskly. "Artemis had a group of maiden hunters, called the Hunters of Artemis, who swore vows of eternal maiden-ness in exchange for remaining young forever, or at least until they broke their vow or were killed in action."

"Cool!" Sirius exclaimed. "Can I be one?"

Snivellus raised an eyebrow coolly. "Maidens, Black," he drawled, flicking his lank hair from his face. James instinctively flinched away, thinking, It would suck to get Essence of Snivellus on me. Sirius, however, looked broken-hearted.

"Why is Artemis so sexist?" he whined. He kicked at Snivellus in annoyance. "Thanks for raining on my parade, Snivellus."

"My pleasure, Black." In stark contrast to Snivellus' indifferent response, Evans was slowly reddening in anger.

"Don't call him that!" she snapped. "What did Sev ever do to you?"

James felt a rush of annoyance. "Merlin, Evans. It's just teasing. Why not get that stick out of your-"

"Language, James," Remus sighed, twirling his quill disinterestedly.

"-and take a joke?" James plowed on heatedly.

"Unwelcome joking around is bullying," she replied loftily, sticking her nose in the air and crossing her arms. James, incensed at her aloofness, whipped his wand out and clenched it in his fist. Evans quirked a condescending eyebrow at it. "Really, Potter? Going to resort to mundane means of resolving conflict?"

James growled and pointed his wand directly at her face. She stared right down the end of it and barely flinched when sparks flew from the tip.

Just as Professor Oglethorpe walked in through the door.

"Potter!" James jumped and spun, tripping over his shoes.

"Yessir!" James shouted. Oglethorpe was a big, burly man, bald, with a mustache and goatee on his square jaw. His giant biceps strained against his robes. He looked like the kind of guy his mother had shown him pictures of, from Muggle action... Picture sound things. The guy who would be the last man standing, shooting down wave after wave of enemies, with an endless supply of ammunition, yelling something... What had Mum said? Oh, yeah. "ASTA LA VISTA, BABY."

"Don't let me ever catch you with your wand pointed at another human being. Ever."

"Yessir." Professor Oglethorpe considered him shrewdly, then nodded and gestured for the class to follow him upstairs. James did so quietly. He liked school so far, and didn't want to get kicked out quite yet.

James tried to listen. He really did. But he just didn't see what was so important about some dots in the sky getting together and making a picture. It was just not very interesting. He did try to act enthusiastic, because Peter was so happy.

And Oglethorpe kept an annoyingly close watch on him.

But it made him feel like a considerably better person if he chose to focus on the first reason, so that's what he did. He looked at the little dots through his telescope, he raised his hand to answer questions, he read the star charts in his book, he got appropriately excited when Sirius found a star that shared his name.

But it all went spiraling down with his telescope when it went flying over the edge of the Astronomy Tower.

James was poring over his map of Jupiter, trying to locate some red dot, when someone knocked into him. He pitched forward, barely keeping his hold on the railing. His glasses dangled off his face, and he hastily swung himself upward and shoved them back up his nose. Then he saw something teetering on the edge of his vision.

He watched it happen in slow motion. His telescope was perched precariously on the edge of the parapet, swaying back and forth—it was about to fall—he lunged for it—his fingers brushed the cool metal-it tumbled off the tower.

"No!" he gasped, making a wild grab for it. His fingers nearly found purchase on the rim around the lens, and for a moment, he thought they did—but it slipped through his grasp like butter, and his telescope spun down into shadows as it neared the ground.

"Is everything alright?" A deep voice came from behind him, causing James to spin around furiously. "Mr. Potter, where has your telescope run off to?"

"It didn't run off to anywhere-" he began angrily.

He was interrupted by a snide voice, drawling, "It decided to fly away, Professor Oglethorpe." James turned a glare on Snivellus, who was smirking with unmasked glee.

James protested, "Someone knocked into me, Professor, and my poor telescope got the brunt of their carelessness."

"It's true, Professor," piped up Hestia Jones, one of the girls in Gryffindor. "I saw it happen."

"I see," he mused, walking towards Jones. "And—Miss Jones, is it?—yes, Miss Jones, can you tell me who the perpetrator was?"

"I didn't see," Jones muttered. "Wish I had, though."

"Did anyone else?" Evans raised her hand timidly. "Miss Evans! Did you see them?"

Evans readily answered, "No one could see who did it because it was a group of people." Did she shoot an angry look at Snivellus when she said this? And a group of people implied that it wasn't accidental... James' anger was slowly mounting.

Sirius, whose face reflected James' burning desire to hex someone, snapped, "Well, it doesn't take much of an intellect to figure out which group of people would want to knock James off the Astronomy Tower."

Professor Oglethorpe raised his eyebrows skeptically and crossed his arms. "Are you accusing someone, Mr. Black, without having any proof?"

"If I may, Professor," Remus interjected quietly. He waited until the large and admittedly scary man nodded his approval before elaborating, "there is some proof, if you look at the facts."

"Such as?" prompted Oglethorpe. James realised what he was doing—he already knew what Remus and Sirius were getting at. He was doing his job: teaching.

Peter burst out, "Such as the fact that James' dad is one of the most pro-Muggle Aurors out there. Can't make too many supremacists happy, can it?"

"Exactly. And there are plenty of students here who come from supremacist families, so some of their views are bound to rub off, and who better to make their point on than James, who is the son of one of the leading figures in the campaign for-"

"But Potter's such a jerk, there are probably plenty of people here who want to shove him off the Tower," Snivellus interrupted hastily. James noticed his eyes flick over to Evans, panicky, and wondered what that was about, but he was more preoccupied by Snivellus' words: "Potter's such a jerk..." Was he really?

James snapped, "Well, you'd say that, wouldn't you, Snape, seeing how you're all cuddly with those supremacists?"

"Students!" Oglethorpe barked impatiently. "Mr. Potter, detention for targeting another student. Furthermore, I will take fifty points from Slytherin—unless someone pleads guilty." What is this, a court case? "You have ten seconds. Ten, nine," We're not five, Oglethorpe, "seven, six, five-"

"Alright! I did it, it was me," muttered a stocky, blonde boy who looked a bit like an elephant, with big ears and a long nose. "And I don't regret it in the slightest. I am proud of being pure blooded, as you should be," he added nastily, shooting Sirius a nasty look that Sirius returned wholeheartedly.

"Your name?"

The boy turned his venomous glare on Oglethorpe. "You know exactly who I am," he spat.

"Your name." Oglethorpe looked absolutely furious now, as he drew himself to his full, towering height. The image he exuded was an impressive one—his thick brow was drawn together, his square jaw was set, his eyes narrowed.

The boy defiantly held Professor Oglethorpe's gaze for a moment—then lowered his eyes and muttered, "Mulciber." His voice was filled with undisguised hate. Oglethorpe nodded and beckoned for Mulciber to follow him.

"The rest of you," he instructed, "class is dismissed. Have a good night." James stuffed his things into his rucksack irritably. Now he was going to have to get a new telescope; he was sure his was broken. On top of that—detention. Great. He could see his mother's letter now:

Dear James,

Detention? Really? Honey, I thought we warned you not to get into trouble! Keep your nose clean, mister. Or I'll... I'll... I'll do something! Mark my words!

Love from,

Mum

James sighed in resignation and went to Professor Oglethorpe's office. The door was closed. James raised a hand and knocked politely; Lesson thirteen: always be polite to your elders. Especially if you're in trouble, he thought bitterly, remembering his mother's lectures on manners. The door swung open abruptly. Mulciber stormed out, knocking into James and sending him spinning into a wall.

"Oi!" yelped Sirius, rushing forward to James' side. Sirius glared at Mulciber for a moment before clucking like a mother hen and brushing James' shoulders worriedly. James smirked at him, and he stopped, blowing a raspberry for good measure.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" inquired Professor Oglethorpe.

James looked at his feet as he reminded him, "My detention, sir."

"Ah, yes." Professor Oglethorpe. "It took great character to remind me of your punishment. Ten points to Gryffindor. And, twenty points to your friends, for making an excellent case in defense of their Housemate." Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James shared a grin. "Mr. Potter... Mr. Pringle's rheumatism is acting up again, poor fellow. You shall serve your detention on Saturday at eight pm, cleaning the trophy room. No magic."

"Yessir!" James exclaimed. Not even several hours' worth manual labor could dampen his mood now—thirty points for Gryffindor!

That Saturday, James awoke with apprehension weighing on his stomach. Or that could've been Sirius, who was perched on James' midsection, yelling, "Get up, get up, get up!"

"Why?" James groaned. "It's Saturday."

"Today is a very big day!" Sirius insisted, pushing his face toward James'. James pulled his pillow over his head.

"Why is today such a big day?" Remus queried, pulling on socks.

Sirius straightened up abruptly, causing James to groan in discomfort, and held an index finger high in the air. "Today is the day that James becomes the first Marauder to serve-" he gasped dramatically. "-a detention!"

James heard the rustle of sheets as Peter sat up. "Marauder? What's a marauder?"

Remus explained, "A marauder is a person who marauds, or a raider."

"As always," Sirius replied drily, "Remus sounds like he's swallowed the dictionary. But, yes, a marauder is, in essence, a land pirate."

"And why, dare I ask," Remus muttered, "are you referring to us as such?"

Sirius sighed. "Because, it sounds cool. Duh. Also, we need to have a name."

"Why?" Peter asked, flopping back down onto his sheets. James sat up, because his stomach was starting to hurt—Sirius tumbled from the bed with a yelp. "Why can't we just be... People?"

"Because we're not just people!" exclaimed Sirius. "People are boring. We're not! We're going to leave this place as Hogwarts Legends, mark my words!"

James paused in buttoning his shirt to snatch up a scrap of parchment and scribble, we're going to leave this place as Hogwarts Legends! Then he put a squiggle across it and sarcastically said, "Consider them marked," as he threw the parchment at Sirius. He then finished buttoning his shirt.

Remus pressed, "But why Marauders?"

"We are going to be the best—and worst—troublemakers Hogwarts has ever known!" announced Sirius, leaping up onto Remus' bed, but falling backwards as the mattress caved under him. James laughed, and Sirius sat up, red-faced. "Not funny," he muttered.

Their tall, gawky friend sighed. "Really, Sirius? You want to be known for having the most detentions, causing the most problems, and acquiring the most enemies?"

"Yup!"

James began to nod. "Yeah, I'm down with that."

Remus' eyes widened. "James!"

"But, Remus, can't you see it?" Peter persisted excitedly. "Messrs. Remus, Peter, Sirius, and James—Pranking Extraordinaire's!" James nodded enthusiastically. "We could be famous, Remus! We can make a difference in this school! I mean, we could be those kids, the ones who do what they're told quietly, keep their noses clean, who nobody notices. Or we could be those kids, the ones that made history. We could..." Peter gasped. "We could be in the next edition of Hogwarts-A History!"

Remus' eyes lit up. The thought of being in a book was appealing to him, James could see it plain as day.

"Alright," Remus conceded. "But we have to figure out code names somehow. I really don't want to be expelled."

"None of us do, mate." Sirius patted Remus on the head. "Now—off to breakfast!"

"But I still haven't got my pants on!" James whined.

"Too bad!" Sirius replied cheerfully, grabbing James' wrist and tugging him towards the door. James fought valiantly: there was no way he was going down there without is pants. Alas, Sirius was not only four inches taller, but also broader in the shoulder and was of a considerably more muscular build. Paired with his exuberance, Sirius Black was unstoppable.

James had fortunately managed to pull his pants up before entering the common room, but had to deal with several odd looks from other boys as he hopped down the stairs, one hand held captive by Sirius, the other struggling to button his trousers. They were sitting under a beech tree by the lake when Remus asked,

"Why do we need a group name, Sirius?"

Sirius groaned. "I thought we went over this!"

"No," Remus argued, "we went over the group name itself. But why do we need one at all?"

"Because it's already there?" Peter tried, hoping to avert an argument. James nodded, grinning.

Sirius harrumphed, crossing his arms sulkily. "It's cause all of the cool people in the muggle world have group names."

"What?" Remus laughed. "No they don't."

"Yeah! Those groups that are famous, ya know?"

Remus quirked an eyebrow. "You mean bands?"

"No," Sirius moaned. "The ones that are all tough-guy people!"

James laughed. "I think the word you're looking for, Sirius, is gangs."

"What?" Sirius gasped. "No!"

Peter insisted, "Um, yes."

"We're not a gang!"

"I should hope not," Remus snorted.

Sirius pouted, "I still think we should have a name."

"I agree. Stop being a party pooper, Remus," James scolded playfully. Remus clapped a hand to his heart and made a wounded face, screaming,

"James! You wound me!" James laughed. He looked around at his friends, and it struck him.

He had never had friends before. His parents, sure. But they didn't really count, did they? Not, at least, when it came to what James was thinking of. He was thinking of people of his age, and his interests, who wouldn't patronise him, or treat him differently. He had never had people like that before.

But it was nice.

James made his way down to the trophy room, feeling much better about his detention than he had on receiving it. He even skipped, waving cheerfully at the Bloody Baron as he pranced past.

He had never seen the bloodstained, moody ghost look more confused.

When he reached the trophy room, the caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, was already there, sitting in a chair. The old man scowled. "You're early."

"You know," James pointed out, "most people would see that as a good thing."

"Humph," grunted Mr. Pringle. He adjusted his scarf. "Well then. You see this?" He held up a bottle with a nozzle at the end. James nodded. "It's the cleaning stuff. As far as you're concerned, that is what it's called. You see this, boy?" He shook a raggedy looking...rag...in the air. "This is the rag. Again, that's what it's called. To clean something, you spray it with the cleaning stuff–you know how to do that, right?" he asked suspiciously.

James scoffed, "I'm not stupid, you know."

"If you say so. Anyways, you spray it, then you wipe it. Got that? Here, then. You're to clean every single trophy here. I want to see my face sparkling in each and every one of them when you're done."

Under his breath, James muttered, "Why would you want to do that?" Nevertheless, he began scrubbing each trophy until it shone like moonlight. For nearly an hour, he worked in silence. But he came across a trophy that made him pause.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Eh?"

"Who's Tom Riddle?"

Mr. Pringle rose creakily—James could've sworn he heard the old man's joints squeak—and shuffled over. "Well, he got an award for special services to the school, didn't he?" he grunted.

"Yes, but what for?"

"For doing a special service to the school." James rolled his eyes and got back to work. Something about the name seemed familiar, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The rest of the detention passed without excitement, and he headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, exhausted and reeking of lemons.

"James!" Sirius pounced on him before he even fully entered their dorm. "How did it go? What did you learn?"

"Merlin, Sirius, stop being my mum, I've already got one," James groaned.

Remus snickered, "James, don't be such a sourpuss. You smell lovely, by the way." James kicked at him half heartedly.

"I learned... How to make stuff shiny," James decided after a moment's consideration. "Hey—does the name Tom Riddle seem familiar at all?" Out of habit, he glanced at Remus first; Remus always had the answers, he was practically a walking encyclopaedia. But his incredibly gangly, shockingly scarred friend shook his head. Peter shrugged. Shockingly enough, it was Sirius who supplied the answer.

"Oh yeah. Much too familiar," he spat bitterly. "Tom Riddle is only the most famous supremacist of our time. He's, like, my parents' hero."

James frowned. "I thought You-Know-Who was the most famous supremacist of our time."

"He is," confirmed Remus. They all looked at Sirius.

"Yup. Don't take no more than two brain cells to connect the dots," he prompted.

Peter's mouth fell open. "You mean Tom Riddle is You-Know-Who?" Sirius nodded, kicking at his trunk sulkily.

"Stupid muggle haters. All of this "purity of blood" crap makes me sick." He began twisting at his covers angrily.

"Wait," James said. "If he's You-Know-Who, how come he's got an award for special services to the school?" Remus' eyebrows flew up.

"How long ago?" he asked. James could see his hand creeping towards his copy of Hogwarts-A History.

"Um..." James strained his memory. "Um... Thirty years ago? Yeah. Thirty." Remus flipped his book open with such haste that one of his pages ripped ("Merlin's pants.") and ran his finger down the table of contents.

"Argh!" he moaned. "There's nothing more recent than 1914. I'll go to the library tomorrow."

Sirius sat up. "No! You can't do that!"

"Why not?" whined Remus. James could see that being kept from the library horrified him.

"Because!" James answered, leaping onto Remus' bed and pushing his face towards Remus'. "Tomorrow, we begin planning our first prank!"