A/N: This is a canon-compliant story of the Marauders' friendship, covering the Hogwarts years and Voldemort's rise to power. As a psychotherapist, I cover a lot of character development! But what I truly hope to share in my writing is the power of friendship and how Voldemort (with no nose and who knows nothing) can never be a true match for its magic. I hope you will enjoy it x

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Chapter One - Leaving for Hogwarts

Wednesday 1st September 1971 was a perfectly normal day in muggle Britain, thank you very much. It was raining, which was no surprise to anyone, and the paper headlines updated the muggles on the latest from the IRA and the news that The Rolling Stones were suing their famous manager (a surprise to many people).

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

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

Euphemia was looking grim. "I don't like it." She said. "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."

"It won't be." Fleamont said reassuringly. "It's just a few lunatics messing around. 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. While his school 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, 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 final had been on, and he just couldn't resist torturing himself with another English defeat. Now, looking around at all the mess, he wondered if he might not have been better off missing the match after all.

There was a knock on the door and James' dad poked his head around it. "Nearly ready?" He smiled.

Fleamont Potter was a 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 fame creating Sleekeazy's Hair Tonic in a (highly successful) attempt 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 at the mess on the floor a little guiltily.

"It's alright." His dad said, ruffling his hair as he came into the room. He waved his wand once at the mess, causing the items to fly into the air, rearrange themselves and fall neatly into James' trunk or back to their place of origin. Fleamont held out a stuffed lion which seemed not to have been able to make up its mind and smiled questioningly at James.

"Better not." James said, taking Godric from his father and placing him on a shelf. "I won't need him at Hogwarts." The truth was that he didn't want any of the boys in his dormitory to laugh at him. It wasn't very brave to still need a stuffed animal to sleep with, was it?

He turned to his dad who was smiling sadly at him. "When did you get so grown up?"

James wrapped his arms around the man's waist, breathing in his familiar scent and wondering how on earth he would survive without him.

"You'll be OK." Fleamont said thickly, and James wondered if perhaps he was telling himself as much as James.

They carried James' trunk downstairs, to where his mother was fastening her pearl necklace in the entrance hall mirror. She smiled when she saw them. She always smiled when she saw them. "Ready, darlings?"

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

But he was ready for Hogwarts. "Ready when you are." He said.

...

There was a tense, prickly atmosphere in number twelve, Grimmauld Place that morning. It felt as though someone had covered the stone halls with invisible land mines. Except they kept moving location. And Sirius never knew what would set them off.

Having been on the receiving end of his mother's rage twice already that morning (she'd tripped over his school trunk and he'd not answered quickly enough when she'd called him) Sirius decided to leave the whole lot of them to it and went downstairs to wait out the rest of the time in the kitchen. No family and plenty of cauldron cakes. That was about as good as 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 and wondered if his mother had charmed it to move extra slowly. He couldn't wait to be at Hogwarts. He'd been counting down the minutes since his cousin Andromeda had started six years ago. Even Bellatrix's tales of how the sixth and seventh years practiced curses they'd learned on the first years didn't scare him all that much. His eldest cousin already cursed him and she was a fully qualified witch. How much worse could it really be at Hogwarts?

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

"You mustn't hide away." The younger boy pouted, moving to sit by Sirius on the table and frowning up at him. "Not on your last morning with us."

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

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

Sirius gave a humourless laugh. "Why break traditions?" When was their 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 entirely different planets. "Reg." He said. "She hates me."

As if to prove his 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 at the sight of her, brushing invisible crumbs from the front of his robes and staring imploringly at Sirius to do the same, but Sirius remained where he sat, watching her impassively.

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

Sirius held up the packet of cauldron cakes. "Eating cauldron cakes." He explained.

She glared at him but could clearly not find anything so offensive in the act she could reasonably punish him for it so turned her attention instead to his brother.

And how quickly the dragon was gone. Though well versed in her 'Jekyll and Hyde' (one person one minute, another the next) routine by now, it still sent his head spinning. How could she be two such different people with him and his brother? And why was the bad side was always reserved for him?!

She snapped her eyes back to him and he drew in a quick 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 forwards now so their faces were inches apart.

Sirius thought he could just imagine who these 'right connections' were in his mother's eyes. He'd unfortunately met the children of his parents' friends; boring, snobby boys like Edwin Mulciber and Atticus Avery or stuck-up princesses like Roma Lestrange. If these were the sort of people his parents expected him to hang around with he'd sooner spend the next seven years in Kreacher's bedroom. With Kreacher.

"I know how important it is for you." He told her.

"Do not disappoint me." She hissed, the threat beneath her words palpable.

Sirius smirked at her. "As if I could ever do that."

Furious, she opened her mouth, but Regulus cut her off. "You'll be proud of Sirius when he's sorted into Slytherin won't you mother?" He said quickly. "Won't you be happy then?"

Sirius turned incredulously again to his brother. How on earth could the kid think one day's events might achieve something eleven years (and however many his mum had been alive for) had been unable to?

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 and leaving the kitchen.

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

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

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 going: September 1st. Just like it said on his dad's Daily Prophet.

"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 and looked at him concernedly. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit nervous." Remus admitted.

"You mustn't doubt." Lyall said, squeezing his shoulder. "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 wizarding society 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. "Yes. That's what makes you strong."

While it didn't make much sense to Remus, he gave his dad a weak smile anyway.

"Are you boys ready?" Remus' mother said, coming into 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? Please do write!"

Remus smiled back at her and promised that he would. He knew his mother was dreading his departure (she'd never been away from him for as much as a day before), but as her spirit was as true as her name, she never let her fears or worries 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 go with them.

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

They embraced one another for a long time and then, both a little tearful, they broke apart.

"Goodbye, darling." Hope waved as he walked away. "Be safe."

Remus waved back. He knew how much he'd miss her.

...

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 the 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 sighed, falling dramatically back onto the sofa. "We have evidence here that magic really does exist and we can't tell anyone! Just think how jealous Margaret Johnson in upper fourth would be? Oh!" She clutched a hand to her chest as a giddying new 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 hotly. "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 with the whole scene that he'd stomped straight out of the living room and into his mercifully girl-free bedroom, slamming the door hard behind him.

The Pettigrews lived in a small but cosy cottage in the rural Midlands. Peter's bedroom was on the ground floor next to the old fashioned kitchen. Since Peter's dad had left, his mother had kept herself busy working for charities and helping organise bake sales at Peter's old primary school. She'd sometimes bring Peter along to one of these events, which he'd hated as it meant seeing his old teachers or, 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 room 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 before handing him a small present wrapped in pink tissue. "Here. I got you this. Something for school, but don't open it now. It's top secret." She winked at him and then hurried out of the room calling "coming mum!" as she went.

Ignoring both her and their mother's calls, Peter tore open the gift. He frowned as he looked at what it was. A notebook. No, a journal. It was made of brown leather and had the words 'Peter's diary. Top secret!' in gold italics on the front cover.

Peter stared at it, dumbfounded. What on earth did his stupid sister think he'd possibly use something like that for?! He threw the book onto his bed, not bothering to consider whether it might hurt her feelings if she found 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. All he had to do now was take the next step.