Chapter 2: The Marauders
The next day Harry hurried through his chores and was mostly ignored by his relatives. He was meant to stay out of sight for the most part which suited Harry just fine. He now stood in the middle of his room looking at the battered and unremarkable cardboard box.
He glanced at his door and listened for a moment. His Aunt had just left with Dudley for a doctor's appointment regarding the tail and his Uncle Vernon was at work so he was, for the moment, alone.
Gathering his courage he opened the flaps of the box and peered down into the dark interior. A large part of him thought he might have imagined the whole thing. But as he put his hand in the box he once again couldn't feel the bottom. He felt around for the ladder he had climbed up the day before and found a rung and he climbed down into the box.
As he reached the bottom of the ladder the room lit up with soft ambient light. His green eyes scanned the hidden room, familiarizing himself with the truth of its existence again taking in the details he had missed during his hurried visit in his vault.
The room was about the size of a large bedroom and it was furnished like one as well. There was a bunk bed along one wall and a desk, chair, and bookshelf along another. He moved to the bookshelf and saw a few books including a large section on something called quidditch.
He reached for one of the books when someone said, "That one's my favorite." Harry whirled in surprise looking for the owner of the voice but the room was empty. He slowly started making for the ladder eyes darting around the room.
"Stop it Prongs, you're scaring him." A different voice said directly behind him. That was when he saw it. A large painting was on the floor leaning against the wall. Within a golden frame was a painting of a cozy-looking room decorated in reds and golds. A fire crackled in the hearth of a large stone fireplace. Various chairs and sofas were arranged before the fireplace and four young men were staring at him in interest from their various seats. A log ablaze in the hearth popped sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.
Harry stared slack-jawed at the painting. He watched as one of the men smiled up at him. "Hi, Harry." The one with glasses and dark hair that was as messy as his own spoke. "Surprised?"
Surprised was the least of what Harry was feeling. The whole concept of magic being real was new to Harry. He slowly approached the painting and peeked behind it sure that it was some kind of new-fangled television but he didn't see any cords.
Finally, he sank to his knees in front of the painting and stared at the four occupants as intently as they stared at him. He noticed they were all wearing Hogwarts robes which he recognized from his fitting at Madam Malkins.
A golden plaque at the base of the painting read THE MARAUDERS. They wore matching red and gold ties. A banner of a golden lion on a burgundy background hung above the mantle. He watched in quiet amazement as the lion stretched and shifted position slightly turning its disconcerting golden-eyed gaze upon him.
Harry swallowed a bit then plucked the courage to ask, "Who are you?"
The men in the painting began looking at each other with confused and worried looks. "You don't recognize us?" One of the four asked. The speaker with shoulder-length black hair straightened up from his lounging position on a sofa, placing a magazine he had been reading on a table beside him. Harry caught the title Popular Mechanics and before he could wonder more about it the young man asked "Why doesn't he know us Prongs?"
A third person in the picture spoke up and said, "Hi Harry. I'm Moony. You are Harry, right?" Harry thought his smile was very kind. He had some scars on his face and his hair was ash brown, his eyes were an almost amber color.
He had a book in his hand entitled Hogwarts, A History, and a feathered pen in his hand.
Harry thought he had that book in his trunk. It had been on the booklist. The man shut the book and placed it on a table next to him on top of several other books stacked upon it.
"Of course, he's Harry, Moony. Who else could he be? He has Lil's eyes." The messy-haired young man said pointing to Harry expressively. "And my good looks." He winked playfully at Harry.
Harry returned his attention fully to the man, green eyes meeting hazel in recognition, half hoped for and half fully realized. "Dad?" Feeling somewhat foolish.
But then the one called Prongs nodded, "See! He does know me Padfoot!" He punched the longer-haired wizard on the arm. "Stop being such a prat." But the one called Moony was watching Harry closely and narrowed his eyes at the boy.
"I don't think he does Prongs." His voice was almost a whisper. They were now silently staring at him and Harry felt the weight of their gazes.
Harry cleared his throat and said, "Well I've never seen pictures. But you look a little bit like me I think?" He defended his lack of knowledge. Aunt Petunia barely acknowledged that Harry even had parents. The only thing he had been told about them turned out to be a complete lie. They hadn't in fact died in a car crash but had instead been murdered by a dark wizard.
The silence was thick and at least three of the marauders wore identical shocked expressions. "What do you mean Harry?" The one called Moony asked.
Harry squirmed a bit, "Well, Aunt Petunia told me you," pointing to the one he guessed was his father, "died in a car crash. I just found out that wasn't true yesterday. The car crash part, not the dying part." He clarified.
The long-haired elegant looking boy barked out a laugh, "You're kidding right?" Harry shook his head sadly.
"What about your mum… Lily?" Harry's dad finally asked.
Harry bent his head and murmured, "She's gone too." He glanced up from beneath his shaggy bangs and saw his dad looking at him with shock in his eyes.
"Gone too? You mean we both... are dead?"
Harry flinched at the harsh tone but nodded. "Yes. I… I'm sorry." He didn't need anyone to tell him how mental this conversation was. He still wasn't sure if he wasn't dreaming the whole thing.
Eventually, Harry was prodded into telling the story that he had learned from Hagrid yesterday. About Voldemort and how he had targeted the Potters and how he Harry had somehow survived the killing curse and only had a scar to show for it. How Hagrid thought that Voldemort was still alive but weak somehow.
The Marauders listened to the tale with varying degrees of horror, sadness, and anger and began throwing questions at Harry that he didn't have answers to.
Harry noticed that one of the boys never talked and he wasn't exactly sure who he was. Finally, he plucked up the courage for some questions of his own. "So you are all friends?" He asked.
Harry's dad answered, "Yep. Like brothers. We met at Hogwarts in our first year. We were all sorted into Gryffindor together. We were known collectively by the name the Marauders. Individually, I am James Potter or Prongs, and of course, I'm your dad." He got a bit of a goofy grin then and Harry smiled back.
Then he indicated the handsome young man with shoulder-length black hair and a casual elegance about him. "This is Sirius Black, and his Marauder name is Padfoot."
Padfoot grinned at him and said, "Nice to meet you Pup."
Harry wondered at the name but then Prongs was introducing him to the third Marauder, "And this is Remus Lupin also known as Moony. You used to call him Unca Mooey."
They all grinned at Harry and then James sighed, "And over here we have Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail" Harry waved at all of them. "You sure you haven't met any of us before?"
Harry shook his head. "Never."
James glared at his friends who cowered from his rage. "Why not?" He asked his friends.
Remus sighed, "I probably was not allowed because, you know."
Harry wondered what he was talking about but before he could ask, James was nodding, "I guess that makes sense. But what about Padfoot, Harry? You know him right?" Prongs pulled Padfoot closer for Harry to inspect. "This old dog helped raise you right?"
Harry shook his head. "No. Sorry."
James gave his friend a quelling look. "You better hope you are dead Pads. Cause you're his godfather!"
Harry looked at Padfoot with a bit more interest upon learning he was his godfather. He had a kind of lazy grace about him. His Hogwarts robes hung open revealing an untucked white button-down shirt open at the collar and his tie hung loosely around his neck. His legs were clad in the traditional Hogwarts slacks but he wore biker boots on his feet. Harry thought he looked cool. And maybe a little dangerous he could admit. His gray eyes reminded Harry of a stormy day.
Padfoot raised his hands in surrender. "Don't worry Prongs, I'm probably dead. That would be the only reason he doesn't know me."
Moony nodded and said. "What about Wormtail?" They all looked at the smaller of the four boys, but he still hadn't spoken. He merely smiled as if unaware he was being looked at.
Harry wondered why he seemed different, less aware than the other three. Finally, he asked, "Is he okay?"
His dad sighed, "He never gave me the memories to animate his portrait, Prongs explained. Figured he'd get around to it at some point. Guess he never did." Most of this explanation went over Harry's head, but he was fascinated with how they were talking and moving around.
Prongs gave him a keen look over. not liking what he was seeing. His son was eleven but looked younger. He was much too thin. He was wearing muggle clothes that were at least 4 times too big making him look even smaller. His glasses were broken and held together with muggle tape. His hair was shaggy and unkempt. He looked hungry and starved for affection. "So who are you living with now Harry?"
"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," Harry said dully. "And my cousin Dudley." The face of disgust he made set James off.
"What!? Please tell me you're joking!" Looking even more upset than he had at learning that he was dead if possible. "We specifically forbade it! What use is a will Moony if no one follows it?"
He shook his head and asked, "Have they…" Afraid to ask if Harry had been abused by his relatives instead asked, "Have they treated you decent?" Knowing from his starved and neglected appearance they hadn't.
Harry shrugged a bit, "Alright, I suppose." Unwilling to complain. He sighed and looked up thinking his aunt and cousin would be returning soon and reluctantly stood up. "I better get back." Cutting the conversation short and backing up towards the ladder.
Every part of him wanted to stay and continue the conversation, but he didn't want to risk his aunt discovering the box or its priceless contents. "I'll be back after dinner." He promised and then quickly climbed out of the box.
After he had gone the three marauders stared at each other. "Well, it's a good thing you insisted on the portrait Prongs." Moony was the first to break the silence. "I just… What the hell happened?"
Prongs shook his head, "My worst fears… And Lily." He sighed, staring morosely as the fire consumed the log within the hearth. "Well I may not be alive but that doesn't mean I'm helpless. Harry doesn't know anything. And did you see how small…" His voice trailed off sadly.
Padfoot nodded. "They aren't feeding him right." The dog Animagus growled.
Moony sighed. "Well, we are going to have to get Harry to find out more information. We could have him contact Dumbledore?"
Prongs frowned. "No. Dumbledore has to be the reason he was placed with the Dursleys. No one else would have a reason to. Dumbles probably justified it with all that 'Greater Good' BS, he's the only one that would have the power to ignore the will or hide the will from the Ministry."
Moony looked suitably shocked but Padfoot nodded in agreement. "Have him contact Andy. She'll keep Harry's secrets and she's not a huge fan of Dumbledore. She can at least take care of his immediate needs before school."
Moony sighed, "Well maybe if Harry contacted me, If I'm around, I'd come to him if he asked me to. Even if Dumbledore forbade me from seeing him because of my furry problem, I'd defy him if Harry needed me."
Padfoot nodded, "Harry should owl both of us Moony. Just in case I'm not dead for some unholy reason."
And so the Marauders began to plot beneath the banner of Gryffindor's lion by the fire of the Gryffindor common room the Marauders bent their heads together and Operation Save Pronglet began.