Chapter One - Leaving for Hogwarts

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

In The Daily Prophet, however, the news was rather less routine. Fleamont Potter frowned over his breakfast as he read the headline: Muggle Mass Murder: Ministry Mystified. It had been a family of five in Oxfordshire, killed instantly in their beds with some sort of green victory symbol cast into the sky above their Cotswold home.

"Of course the muggles won't have it in their papers." Fleamont told his wife, Euphemia, as she poured him more coffee. "The undercover aurors in the police department will have confunded them into thinking it's a gas leak. Those poor people." He shook his head as he read some of the tributes now pouring in for the much-loved family.

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

"It won't be." Fleamont said, smiling at her. "There won't be another war." And he kissed her forehead.

...

Upstairs, Fleamont and Euphemia's son, James, had a rather more pressing concern. He hadn't packed. Though his school trunk was open, there was very little actually in it. Most of his life's possessions lay on the surrounding carpet. There were Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, school textbooks, stuffed animals and owl treats, all scattered around like the aftermath of some giant colourful explosion. He may have told his parents he'd do it last night, but then the European quidditch cup final had been on, and James just couldn't resist torturing himself with yet another English defeat. Now, looking around his messy bedroom, he wondered if he might not have been better off missing the game after all.

There was a knock and James' dad poked his head round the door. "Nearly ready?"

Fleamont Potter was a tall, distinguished-looking wizard with silver hair, glasses and a slightly quirky dress sense (which probably went with the territory of being an inventor). In his younger years he'd been a famous dueller and later found more fame creating Sleekeazy's Hair Tonic in a desperate (and very successful) effort to keep his hair from sticking up at the back, as James' always did.

"I know I left it a bit late." James said, looking guiltily down at the mess.

His dad smiled and came into the room. "Don't worry." He said, waving his wand once which caused the items to fly into the air, rearrange themselves carefully and fall neatly back into James' trunk or else zoom back to their place of origin. Fleamont held out a stuffed toy lion and smiled questioningly at his son.

"Better not." James said, taking Godric and quickly putting him back on the shelf. "I'm sure I won't need him at Hogwarts." The truth was more that he didn't want anyone in Gryffindor to laugh at him. It wasn't very brave to need a stuffed animal to sleep with, was it?

He turned to his dad and wrapped his arms around the man's waist. "Thanks." He said, breathing in his familiar scent of coffee, the outdoors and (bizarrely enough) gunpowder on his dad's purple robes. He was going to miss him more than anything else in the world.

Fleamont hugged him back tightly. "I'll miss you." He said, and James thought he heard him blowing his nose.

He helped James with his trunk and they met Euphemia again in the entrance hall where she was fastening her pearl necklace in the large ornate gold mirror. She smiled when she saw them in its reflection. She was always smiling when she saw them. "Ready, darlings?" She said.

James took one last look around the grand hallway of the house he'd known since babyhood and felt a sudden rush of sadness. This would be the last he'd see of his beloved family home for a very long time.

But he was ready. He was going to Hogwarts. "When you are." He said bravely, smiling at his mother.

...

There was a tense, prickly atmosphere in the stone halls of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, as though someone had covered the entire place with those muggle trip wires which went off without warning (and often explosively...)

Having been on the receiving end of his mother's fierce temper twice already that morning, Sirius decided enough was enough, and had gone downstairs to wait out the rest of his time in the house's large kitchen. No family and plenty of cauldron cakes. That was about the best it ever got for him in the dark, oppressive house he knew as home.

He glanced up again at the clock on the stone wall. It was moving impossibly slowly. He couldn't wait another second to be away at Hogwarts. He'd been counting down the days 'til he'd be going 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. His eldest cousin already cursed him and she was a fully qualified witch. How much worse could it really get for him?

"Here you are!" His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival in the kitchen of his brother, Regulus. Nine years old, and their father in miniature, Regulus was the apple of both their parents' eye.

"You mustn't hide away." He pouted, coming to sit next to Sirius on the table and looking crossly up at him. "Not on your last morning here."

"I'm not hiding from you, I'm hiding from them." Sirius said, jerking his thumb at the ceiling from where they could just about make out their mother bellowing at someone (presumably their father).

"She's a bit cross." Regulus admitted. "But I wish she hadn't shouted at you like that. Not when we won't see you now 'til Christmas."

"Why break traditions?" Sirius said with a hollow laugh. When was his mother not shouting at him?

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

Sirius stared at his brother. Sometimes he wondered if the two of them lived on different planets. "Reg." He whispered hoarsely. "She hates me."

As if to prove this very point, there came the sound of heeled shoes on stone tiles and the door swung inwards to reveal the witch herself, Walburga Black. Regulus leapt at once off the table and brushed invisible crumbs from the front of his robes. Sirius however remained where he was, watching her impassively.

She was a tall witch with dark hair, dark eyes and high cheekbones. She was wearing a black muggle dress and had painted her lips blood red for the occasion. Though someone had once described her as a 'great beauty' he'd never seen it himself. He'd actually found the comment so hilarious he'd not stopped laughing since.

"What are you doing down here?" She snapped, the words more an accusation than question.

Sirius held up the packet of cauldron cakes. "Eating cauldron cakes." He explained. Simple answer to a simple question.

She glared at him but clearly could find nothing so offensive in the act that she could reasonably criticise him for it so she turned her attention instead to his brother.

And how quickly the dragon was gone. Though Sirius was more than familiar with her 'Jekyll and Hyde' routine by now, it still sent his head spinning sometimes. How could one person have two such different personalities? And why was the bad one always reserved for him?!

She turned her attention back to him and he drew in a breath as the dragon returned.

"I hope you know how important it is for you to make the right connections at Hogwarts." She said, coming towards him so their faces were inches apart and glaring at him threateningly.

Sirius thought he could just imagine who these 'right connections' were in his mother's mind. He'd met the unfortunate children of his parents' friends; boring, snobby boys like Edwin Mulciber and Frederick Nott. He thought he'd rather spend the next seven years in Kreacher's bedroom than have to share a dormitory with them.

"I know how important it is for you." He said.

"Do not disappoint me." She hissed.

"As if I could ever do that."

Her eyes bulged in anger but before she could say or do anything, Regulus spoke. "You'll be proud of Sirius when he's sorted into Slytherin, won't you mother?" Won't you be happy then?"

Sirius turned incredulously again to his brother, wondering vaguely how the kid could think the events of one day might achieve something eleven years (and however many more his mother had been alive for) never had, but he said nothing. Let the poor boy keep his illusion if it meant so damn much to him.

His mother turned back to him and he wondered if perhaps she was wondering the same thing. But then 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 both and leaving the kitchen.

"Still think she'll miss me?" He asked his brother.

There was one thing he certainly wouldn't miss in number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and that was her.

...

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. He was amazed he hadn't worn out the ink with the number of times he'd read by it.

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.

"It's really happening!" Remus looked up as his father entered the room. Lyall Lupin was wearing a muggle suit and had combed his brown hair. He came and took a seat beside Remus on the sofa and looked at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous." Remus admitted and it was only when he said it that he realised how true it really was.

"You mustn't doubt." Lyall said. "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. But now they were out he could feel their truth again.

He wasn't being self-pitying. It really was quite a strange life being a werewolf. Especially as he knew how much the wizarding world hated werewolves. He knew Dumbledore had promised he would take care of it and that no one would ever find out, but there were some times, and this was one of them, when Remus felt it was the most foolish, naïve, reckless idea in the world.

His father looked at him and there was again that strange expression Remus sometimes saw in the man's 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're stronger."

"I'm not strong." Remus said quietly, looking at the floor. "I'm terrified."

Lyall squeezed his knee. "I know. That's why you're strong."

Though it didn't make a lot of sense to Remus, he gave his dad a weak smile anyway.

"Are you boys ready?" Remus' mother had appeared in the room. She was carrying a lunchbox which she handed to Remus who recognised it as one they took on their family picnics. He 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, speaking fast as she brushed invisible dust off his shoulders. "You'll be in another country by nightfall! I wonder if you'll pick up a Scottish accent? You must promise to write!"

She beamed at him and 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), but as her spirit was as true as her name, she never let her fears or doubts show.

"We ought to go." Lyall said, getting to his feet and taking his and Remus' coats from the rack in the hallway. As they were taking a portkey to London from their nearest city, as a muggle, Hope was unable to join them.

Lyall kissed his wife and told her he'd be back for lunch then waited outside as Remus said goodbye.

They embraced one another for a long time and then, eventually, they broke apart.

Remus waved to his mother all the way down the road. He thought he would miss her more than anything in the world.

...

Peter Pettigrew was avoiding his family. They had been irritating him as usual with 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 realisation 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 giggling 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 where he slammed the door closed.

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. Since Peter's dad had left, his mother kept herself busy working for charities and helping organise bake sales at Peter's old primary school. She'd sometimes bring Peter to one of these events, which he detested as it meant seeing his old teachers or even worse, other kids from his class. Though his mother had told everyone he'd been accepted to an exclusive boarding school in the Highlands, he longed to tell them all where he was really going. 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 sometimes, but we really will miss you." She said, pulling him into a hug and handing him a small present wrapped in pink tissue. "Here, I got you this. Something for school, but don't open it here! It's top secret." She winked at him and then hurried out of the room calling "coming mum!" In answer to their mother's calls.

Ignoring both her and their mother, Peter tore open his sister's 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 congratulated himself on making it this far - a wizard in a muggle's world. But today, at long last, he was stepping into his destiny. He was going to be someone important, famous even, he just knew it. And all he had to do now was take the next step...

...

A/N: Thank you for checking out my story! I'll be doing my best to keep it canon compliant (only deviating where it fits the story and where I might not realise!) Do let me know what you think if you can, and shout if you see any typos (I'm a bit of a stickler for good grammar, though I apologise to my US readers for the extra 'u's and 's's!)