A/N: Thank you for checking out my story. It's been an absolute joy to write and I hope you like it. Feedback is ALWAYS welcome, so please do let me know your thoughts. Enjoy!

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Chapter One - Leaving for Hogwarts

Wednesday September 1st was as ordinary a day as any in muggle Britain in 1971. It was raining, which was of course no surprise to anyone, and the paper headlines continued to update on latest IRA terrorist activity and the fact that The Rolling Stones were now suing their famous manager.

In The Daily Prophet, the news was less routine. Fleamont Potter frowned over his breakfast at the headline: Mass Muggle Murder: Ministry Mystified. It had been a family of five, killed instantly in their beds as they slept by a wizard who had then cast a green victory symbol into the sky above the poor family's home.

"Of course the muggles won't have it in their papers." Fleamont told his wife, Euphemia, as she poured him coffee. "The undercover aurors in their police department will have confunded them into thinking it's a gas leak and paid off the journalists not to report it. Those poor people..." He shook his head as he read the article.

Euphemia was looking grim. "I don't like it. And this isn't the first muggle attack we've had this year. I hope it's not a sign of anything worse to come."

"Don't worry." Fleamont said, getting to his feet and kissing her forehead as he passed on the way to the hall. "It won't be. Now let me go and see where that son of ours has got to..."

James Potter stood, hands on his hips, and surveyed the mess in his bedroom with mounting dismay. Though his trunk was open, there was very little actually in it as most of his life's possessions lay on the surrounding carpet. There were Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, school textbooks, robes and even owl treats, all scattered around like the aftermath of some giant colourful explosion.

James may have told his parents he'd do it last night but then the quidditch European cup final had been on and he'd stayed up until past midnight hoping England would make up some points (they didn't. Claude Garnier caught the snitch making the final score 330 - 60 to France). Now, looking around at the chaos in his bedroom, James wondered if perhaps he might have been better missing the game after all.

"Knock knock?" James' dad poked his head around the door. "Are we ready?"

Fleamont Potter was a tall, distinguished looking man with silver hair and glasses. In his younger years he'd been a world-class duelist and inventor, famous for the popular Sleekeazy's Hair Tonic, but he'd given it up when his son was born, for, as he told anyone who'd listen 'the best job in the world: being a dad', which James supposed was quite sweet really.

James looked guiltily at the mess on the floor then back at his dad. "I left it a little late..."

Fleamont smiled and came into the room. "It's OK." He said, waving his wand and causing the scattered items to rise into the air, rearrange themselves and fall neatly back into the trunk again. "Just don't tell your mum we cheated." He added with a wink and ran his hand through his hair which, unlike James', stayed miraculously in place.

They met James' mother in the entrance hall, where she was fastening her pearl necklace in the ornate gold mirror. She smiled when she saw them above her head in its reflection. "Ready darlings?"

As James' dad helped her with her coat, the family house elf, Ethel, hurried into the hallway for one last goodbye too.

"I'll miss you." James told the creature. He looked around the grand hallway of the house he'd lived in all his life and smiled sadly. He'd miss all of it. But he was ready for Hogwarts, and this was only just the beginning.

...

The atmosphere in the stone halls of number twelve, Grimmauld Place was tense and prickly, as though someone had covered the whole place with those muggle trip wires that went off explosively and without warning.

Sirius had already been collateral damage twice that morning and so, leaving his furious mother, irritable father and interfering brother to it, he'd gone downstairs to the hide in the kitchen. No family, but plenty of cauldron cakes; one of the few joys the oppressive house afforded him.

He looked at the clock on the wall. It read ten o' clock. They'd be leaving for King's Cross station soon and at long last, his wait would finally be over. He'd been counting down the days he would leave for school since his cousin Andromeda had started six years ago. Even Bellatrix's tales of how the sixth and seventh years practiced curses on the first years didn't scare him. Bellatrix already practiced curses on him and she was a qualified witch. At least when he got to Hogwarts he'd be able to learn how to defend himself properly.

"There you are!" His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival in the kitchen of his younger brother, Regulus. "You mustn't hide away from us on your last morning here." He complained, coming to sit next to Sirius on the table.

"I'm not hiding from you, I'm hiding from them." Sirius explained, jerking his thumb at the ceiling from where they could the distant sounds of their mother bellowing at someone else (presumably their father).

"She's a bit cross." Regulus said, looking down his hands. "I wish she hadn't shouted at you like that though."

"Why break tradition?" Their mother was constantly shouting at him.

"She'll miss you when you're gone."

Regulus really was dim. Had he grown up in an entirely different household from him? Couldn't he see what was so obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain? Their mother hated him.

As if to prove this very point, there came the sound of heeled shoes on stone tiles and the door swung inwards to reveal their mother, Walburga Black.

She was a tall witch with dark hair, dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. She wore a black muggle dress with matching hat and had painted her lips a deep rouge for the occasion. Sirius had once heard someone describe her as a 'great beauty' which he'd found so funny he'd mimed vomiting into a bucket (though sadly no one else in his family had understood the joke).

He watched her impassively as Regulus leapt to his feet, brushed invisible crumbs off his robes and beamed up at her as though she were the sun around which they all orbited (which, he supposed, she was). Watching him made Sirius want to mime vomiting again.

"What are you doing down here?" She snapped, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as they always did when she looked at him.

"Eating cauldron cakes." Sirius replied, holding up the packet for reference.

She glared at him but could clearly find nothing so offensive in the act she could reasonably punish him for it, so turned instead to Regulus.

And how quickly the dragon was gone... Though well familiar with her 'Jekyll and Hyde' routine by now, it still sent his head spinning. With Regulus their mother was chatty, pleasant, almost nice. How could one woman be two entirely different people so easily? Unless, of course, there was just something the matter with him...

She turned back to him and how quickly the dragon was back...

"I hope you know how important it is for you to make the right connections at Hogwarts." She said fiercely. "Your friends from your school days will stay with you until your career."

Sirius thought he knew exactly who these 'right connections' were in his mother's eyes. He'd met the children of his parents' friends; boring, snobbish boys like Edwin Mulciber and Frederick Nott. If they were the kind of pompous prats he was supposed to be making 'lifelong connections' with, he sooner spend the next seven years in Kreacher's bedroom. With Kreacher.

"Do not disappoint me." She hissed, her face now inches from his and Sirius could hear the clear threat behind her words.

"As if I could ever do that." He said, staring straight back into her black eyes.

She opened her mouth to retort, but Regulus cut across her. "You'll be proud of Sirius when he's sorted into Slytherin won't you, mother? Isn't that what you and father want for him? You'll be proud then, won't you?"

It was nice that Regulus still held out some hope, but Sirius wasn't sure he could achieve anything in one day that he hadn't managed yet in eleven years.

Their mother looked at him, and Sirius wondered if she was thinking the same thing. Her lip curled and she tossed her dark shawl back over her shoulder. "We shall see." Was all she said before turning her back on them and leaving the kitchen.

"So, still think she'll miss me?"

Regulus said nothing.

...

Remus Lupin had packed two weeks ago, determined to leave absolutely nothing to chance. If he packed, he would be going and it was really as simple as that.

He sat alone in the family's small front room re-reading his Hogwarts letter for the thousandth time.

Dear Mr Lupin,

We are delighted to offer you…

He read each line slowly (though he already knew it by heart), drinking in the words and savouring their meaning. They had called him 'Mr Lupin', as though he was important, like someone who mattered. They were 'delighted' to offer him a place at Hogwarts. They were delighted?!

And, best of all, he re-read the date he would be starting: September 1st, just like it said on his dad's Daily Prophet, lying beside him on the sofa. He couldn't believe this was actually happening!

"It's really happening." Remus looked up as his father entered the room. Lyall Lupin had dressed for the occasion in a muggle suit and had combed back his brown hair. He took a seat next to Remus on the sofa and looked at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Excited and nervous." Remus said honestly.

"You mustn't doubt." Lyall said, placing a gentle hand on his knee. "You're entitled to an education, Remus. As good an education as everyone else."

"But I'm not like everyone else," Remus whispered, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. And now they were out, he felt their truth again.

He wasn't being self-pitying. It really was quite a strange life being a werewolf. And everyone hated werewolves. He knew Dumbledore had promised he would take care of it. He told them he'd plant a tree, a type of willow, that would stop students from going near the place he would set up for Remus to transform. He promised him that no one would ever find out, unless of course he told. But there were some times, and this was one of them, when Remus felt it was the most foolish, naïve, stupid idea in the world.

His father looked at him and there was again that strange expression Remus sometimes saw in his brown eyes. It looked almost like guilt, but that didn't make any sense to Remus as absolutely none of this was his father's fault.

"No, you're not like everyone else." His dad said quietly. "You've been given a burden to carry from a very young age. And all it's done is make you stronger. Remus, you're going to be just fine."

Remus' eyes met his dad's and he gave him a weak smile.

"Are you boys ready?" Remus' mother had appeared in the room, carrying a lunchbox which she handed to Remus. He recognised it as one they took on their family picnics in the Peak District and was sure he'd be too homesick to take a single bite.

"Gosh Remus, it's ever so exciting, isn't it?" Hope Lupin said, brushing invisible dust off his shoulders distractedly. "You'll be in another country by nightfall! I wonder if you'll pick up a Scottish accent? You must promise to write, oh please do write."

Remus promised her he would. He knew his mother was dreading his departure (she'd never been away from him for even a day before now), but, as her spirit was as true as her name, she never let any of her fears or doubts show. He loved her for the brave face she was putting on for him and thought he'd miss her more than anything when he was gone.

"We ought to go." Lyall said, getting to his feet and taking his and Remus' coats from the rack in the hallway. "Goodbye, darling." He said, kissing his wife. "I'll be back for lunch."

"Goodbye, mum." Remus said as she hugged him.

"Be safe," she said, fishing in her pocket for a handkerchief.

Remus waved to her all the way down the familiar road which would take them to where the ministry had set up a portkey to help families from outside the capital get to London. He'd miss her and his little home in the countryside so much. But he knew what lay ahead would be worth it and he also knew he must be brave. His father was right. He was going to be just fine.

...

Peter Pettigrew was avoiding everyone. They had been irritating him as usual, his mother fussing about and his two sisters Clara and Annabelle bouncing off the walls with excitement. Honestly, anyone would think it was those girls starting at wizards school rather than their younger brother.

"Ooh let me see it again!" Clara cried, grabbing the official parchment and gazing at it as though hypnotised.

"I can't believe we've been sworn to secrecy." Annabelle cried, falling dramatically back onto the sofa. "We have evidence here that magic really does exist. Think how jealous Margaret Johnson in upper fourth would be? Oh!" She clutched her chest as a giddying new thought struck. "Think what Paul Geoffreys would say!"

"Paul Geoffreys wouldn't fancy you even if you could do magic." Clara said, throwing a pillow at her sister. "He wouldn't date someone still in lower school."

"He wouldn't date you either!" Annabelle shot back. "The last I heard he was going out with Joan Matthews."

"Well, we all know what he sees in Joan Matthews..." Clara said and the pair of them fell about laughing and clutching one another.

Peter had been so disgusted by the whole scene that he'd stomped straight out of the living room and into his mercifully girl-free bedroom.

The Pettigrews lived in a small but cosy cottage in the rural Midlands, with Peter's bedroom being on the ground floor next to the kitchen. Peter's dad had left the family when he was just four, leaving his mother to bring up Peter and his two sisters. Since the separation, she kept herself busy volunteering at charity shops and helping to organise bake sales at Peter's old primary school. She'd sometimes bring Peter to one of these events, which he hated as it meant seeing his old teachers or even worse, kids from his class. He wished he could tell them all where he was really going to school this year. That would wipe the smirk of Richard Davidson's smug git face alright.

When it was time to leave, Annabelle came into his bedroom to fetch him. "I know you think we're just silly girls, but we really will miss you." She said, pulling him into a hug. "Here, I got you this. Something for school, but don't open it here!" and she handed him a small present wrapped in pink tissue.

"Thanks." Peter said, taking it from her and frowning. Nothing good ever came of things wrapped in pink tissue in his experience.

She ran out of the room as their mother called them both from the hall and Peter was left alone. Ignoring both his mother and sister's advice, he tore open the gift. He frowned as he looked at what it was. A notebook. No, a journal. It was made of brown leather with the words 'Peter's diary. Top secret. Do not read!' embossed in italic gold on the front cover.

Peter stared at it, dumbfounded. What on earth did his stupid sister think he'd possibly want with something like that? He threw it onto his bed, not bothering to consider whether it might hurt her feelings should she find it later and took one last look around his small bedroom.

It wasn't much, this room and this house, and he considered he'd done well to make it this far - a wizard in a muggle's world. But now, today, he was stepping into his true destiny. He was going to be someone important, he just knew it. All he had to do was take the next step.