First story!

[valencialunae]

Hokai! So, I was bored and ... started writing this a long long time ago and I found it last week and am going to continue it. It's. a. fanfic. Harry Potter MWPP.

And thus, it's probably crap.


Prologue

A LOT OF people tend to think that they always get the worst of everything that happens to be going on at that time. How could they think any different? After all if something bad happens to them they simply cannot process well enough that other people went through the same exact thing: or a different, worse thing. So most people pay little heed to other's problems; and if they do it is only for a short while before they secretly stop caring but perpetually give the facade of a concerned friend.

And few people can tell the difference between reality and what they think reality is. In fact... "a few" would not be an exaggeration. Out of the billions of people less than ten really know what's going on. And the chances that you know one of them? Slim to none. Chances that you know someone who may later become one of them? Greater, but still unlikely.

But nothing is impossible; as life so loves proving again and again to one unfortunate group of friends. Companions, mates, chums, Marauders up until the very end.

They thought everything worthwhile would last forever; that once they had it they would always have it and never tire of it. Their carefree days would be innumerable, too wide to measure-- taller than any mountain! Greater than any story ever told. How could they think anything else? Of course, their lives were great ones-- shining amongst others.

Even then though, there were others. Others that were or were not affected by them, others that shaped them or shaped by them, others that were just as important as them: Just as ignorant.

Those others go on, undeserved... untold of, not remembered save for their families who tell bits and pieces of their lives by word of mouth.

But the Marauders...

...Now theirs is a tale that went down in history itself.

Chapter One

"I THINK in the grand scheme of things we're all really rather unimportant." a small boy brought up out of the blue one day as he sat amongst his equals. Or whom he viewed as his equals; though they hardly seemed to think so. He was short, hadn't lost all of his baby fat yet and his cheeks were a rosy shade of red. They viewed him as one of those 'babied' types and quickly labeled him as such; rightfully so, though he would never admit it. But he continued his conversation, never noticing that they didn't seem the least bit interested. He was new, and he seemed to be unable to stop talking once he started-- and when he was nervous it only became worse.

"I mean think of it! Eight years ago there were other first years sitting in these seats; well maybe not these seats exactly because they could've been saved for second years back then, but ... what was I saying? Oh! Right, first years... eight years ago; no one remembers them anymore really. Maybe just faintly but they'd probably only recognize the names and if they were really important, maybe their faces, but they'd only remember the bad things they'd done unless they were increasingly good! Holy good, not like... a good student but a holy student."

"Shut your blubbering mouth, we ain't interested." someone muttered putting an awful lot of cruel emphasis on "ain't", the speaker only paused momentarily to look at whom she was addressing over the top of a rather large textbook. Eyes cold and unyielding before returning to the pages before them, "Find another compartment." she offered as advice. Not the friendly sort of advice but rather the 'Leave so at least I can be rid of you' kind.

The eleven-year old complied quietly, standing and leaving the compartment embarrassed hoping that others wouldn't immediately assume that he'd been kicked out and rather think that he'd left of his own volition.

Which was terribly unlikely.

So he found himself wandering to the back of the train; which hadn't started moving yet, and for some reason he felt as if when he walked by everyone turned to watch him go. Felt as if their idle conversations were directed at him in an icy, repugnant sort of way.

He slid the door open to the last compartment hoping against hope that it was empty so that he would be free to wallow alone in his misery. But to his chagrin there was one other boy there; reading. He thought back to the place he'd been kicked out of and was unnerved immediately; he detested reading and big books. It had been thought of as tolerable but now he really, really disliked them. Disliked them more than muggle keychains even-- which he really hated.

"Ah... hello." he managed to squeak out, dropping down into the seat across from the other boy who seemed intent on ignoring him. Just as the others had been before they expressed that they did not desire his company.

The boy looked up surprised and mumbled a soft, "Good morning." in response before returning to reading as if out of habit or necessity rather than a want to ignore the other. The newcomer wondered briefly if perhaps the boy so avidly reading had been isolated or if he had chosen the life of a hermit.

And of course unable to stop his running mouth he asked his burning question, "Are you a hermit?"

The boy blinked, and looked up at the other obviously confused, "A hermit? No... I suppose I just don't like crowds much." and he didn't even consider giving his name figuring that it wouldn't be asked anyway.

Thinking back to the previous compartment containing the dreadfully blunt, cruel girl the boy continued the conversation, "Oh... well... I don't either. My name's Peter. Pettigrew. I'm a first year, are you a first year? You seem like you'd be a first year, way in the back all by yourself--"

"This is my first year going to Hogwarts.." he looked across the short distance between the chairs; which seemed larger than it was because both boys still hadn't had their growth spurts and thus were still quite small, Though Peter was just slightly taller than the other. "Listen... you shouldn't be so worried or else you'll be picked on. People tend to take advantage of obvious weaknesses. Do you want some chocolate?"

Peter had heard about not taking candy from strangers; but in all of those stories the strangers had been far older than the victim and had offered sweets in particular. Never chocolate. So he found himself trusting the other easily; even though he hadn't even gotten his name yet. "Yes, please. I adore chocolate. Especially Chocolate Frogs. Do you have any of those? I collect the cards."

Digging through his pockets the other simply shook his head, light brown hair hardly becoming out of place as he did so. He smiled softly, a common characteristic of his, "No, sorry... just this." He broke off a piece apologetically and offered it to Peter. Peter fumbled forward for it; nearly falling from his seat but thankfully reaching the chocolate and pulling back before it happened.

"Thanks." Peter said, eating the piece all at once whereas the other boy put the rest back in his pocket and continued reading. "You're not worried about it melting in your pocket?" the never-silent one asked curiously, "I mean that'd have to leave a big stain wouldn't it? Seems like it would. That wouldn't be good at all. What's your name?"

The boy shifted slightly in his seat; though Peter was unsure if it was to hide the fact that he was taking the chocolate out of his pocket for fear of it melting: which he was, or because he didn't like answering the question. Perhaps he had one of those phobias... Namephobia. Yes, that was probably it.

"Remus Lupin." He answered finally, "I hope we can be friends."

Peter smiled a bit at that, a rather funny smile... some would describe it. Sort of nervous so the edges tilted up strangely. "Great!"

The two returned to doing separate things: Remus' full attention back on the book in his lap: Le Morte d'Arthur and Peter staring glumly out the window, continually running chubby fingers through mousy-brown hair, just as the train began leaving the platform.

That was when the door to the compartment slid open with a resounding bang and slid back shut much quieter as someone entered huffing greatly-- puffing out his cheeks, one of which was beginning to get a rather large bruise.

"Good morning! JOLLY good day if I say so MYSELF. What say you?" he asked rather sulkily as he sat in the compartment, "Do hope I'm NOT intruding on ANYTHING."

He enunciated sporadically. Never a good thing.

Remus and Peter watched him uncertainly; wondering what had gotten him so angry and if he was going to blow up, respectively.

"Bloody Slytherins... especially that Black fellow. Oh, he's not a Slytherin yet but just you wait and see he's going to be one."

"Is that who gave you that nasty looking bruise?" Peter piped in.

"Bruise? OH HELL. He's given me a bloody-- bruise--... I'll kill him. Don't see me acting high and mighty and like a SLYTHERIN just because I'm a PUREBLOOD. He doesn't even know if he's going to be in Slytherin. It'd serve him right if he were sorted into Hufflepuff. Think the Sorting Hat accepts bribes? But it's alphabetical isn't it? He'll be up there before me. If I've learned anything from karma it'd be that Black will be sorted into Hufflepuff." the black-haired one muttered darkly, his hazel eyes narrowing into a glare, "Gave me a bloody bruise. I'll be remembered forever as 'the first year whose face was half purple'."

No one pointed out that he himself had affirmed that this 'Black' character, whomever he was, would end up in Slytherin, but Peter did seem to feel the compelling need to mention something, anything.

"You'll be lucky they remember you at all!" Peter, ever so wise, piped in once more.

James shot him a look, heaved a great sigh and said rather dejectedly as if it was a struggle to calm down, "Sure... why not. I'm James Potter." he calmed rather quickly as if all the anger just drained out of him.

A drain that wasn't clogged.

Like, a new drain that had never been used.

"Peter Pettigrew."

Both boys stared at Remus Lupin, waiting for him to introduce himself. He seemed to concentrate only more on the page though, for all their efforts.

"He's Remus Lupin, has Namephobia." Peter the Wise spoke, and all listened.

"Ah." James snorted, "Common trait in first years."

"Are you a second year then?" Peter asked curiously, the way James was going on about first years and such.

"Well no... but I may as well be a second year."

"Why's that?"

"I know more than any first year does."

"Really?" Peter asked, his expression showing clear awe.

James folded his arms across his chest, and nodded. "Yes. In fact I could tell you exactly when Hogwarts was built. But I won't stun you just yet... you'll have to wait to see my mental prowess. Are you two going into Gryffindor? That's where I'm headed."

"When was Hogwarts built? In the 50s?" questioned Peter, who apparently held vast amounts of knowledge in his round, somewhat large head.

"Nah, late 1800s." James said, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose, which had begun to slip.

Peter just seemed more and more in awe of him. He turned to look at Remus to see if he too was in awe of Potter's neverending knowledge, only to see a small smile upon Remus's face. "Why're you laughing Remus?"

Remus simply shook his head, not wanting to answer and spoil the situation.

"Come on, if we're going to be friends you can't keep secrets."

Again the nervous fidget-- and it wasn't the chocolate this time since that had been taken out of his pocket already.

"Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago."

The room stayed silent before James began laughing, a real carefree laugh-- he didn't care who heard and who wondered who the first year was that finally cracked and would be going to St. Mungos. "Well I'm much more knowledgeable about Quidditch anyway." James said with a grin, "Do any of you play?"

"My mum won't let me within ten feet of a broomstick..." Peter answered gloomily.

"What about you Remus? Don't suppose you play?" James asked, his attitude completely changed-- now he seemed much more like the eleven year old he was.

Remus shook his head, "Not really."

"Oh. Well," James turned his attention to the more interested of the two, grinning broadly, "I'm going to be on the Quidditch team."
"First years aren't allowed though..." Peter said uncertainly, "You did know that didn't you James?"

"Course. I didn't mean this year, I meant next year. I plan on being the best seeker the school's ever had." He answered proudly, he sounded so confident about it that even Remus was sure that he would become Seeker. Granted, he wasn't so keen on the fact that James would be the best Hogwarts had ever seen, but... he supposed when there was a will there was always a way.

IT WASN'T long before the three boys found themselves in a boat being taken to the large castle that loomed eerily before them. It appeared that only first years were taken on the boats, probably so no mischievous third years would have the chance to push the first years into the dark, unfathomable waters. And another thing that was caused because of the First-Years-Only type rule was the people that had accompanied the 'Black pureblood-git' left him all by himself, unguarded, and most of all unsafe... from the Purple-Faced one...

...er, James.

"So Black you don't have any of your friends to back you up now." James said, approaching Sirius on the small boat. It was only Remus, Peter, James, and Black now. No one to hear Black scream-- well, Hagrid, the keeper, was in hearing distance but that was beyond the point completely.

"You should really do something about that bruise," he laughed-- and it didn't sound like a malicious laugh either... more of a barking laugh than anything. "If you look at the tip of the bruise through your glasses it looks bigger and deformed... in fact it looks a bit like Scotland." and he laughed again.

James growled, puffing out his cheeks in that 'I'm an intimidating blowfish' sort of way that he had before he decided it wasn't a good idea, "Shut up you git."

"Oi! Quiet down back there, else you two'll 'ave detention yer first day o' school." Hagrid called out.

The boats reached the shore, and there was a lot of quiet whispering as they turned to look at James Potter and Sirius Black. There was some snickering; though secretly they were all at least a little thankful that there was something to keep their mind off of the inevitable doom that lay before them.

Sorting.

Their parents had all told them that the sorting was done by a singing hat that knew everything.

...Now if there's something more unbelievable than that please, please share it.

After they were inside the castle and standing, grouped together, on a staircase just outside two large double doors the woman leading them began speaking. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will result in losing house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours." She ended her speech, sounding as if she'd given it many times before and would give it many times to come. Then all the scared first years were ushered into a large, great hall. Coincidentally named just that ... the Great Hall. There was a tattered old hat, probably from when the school was first made and if one took that into account than it was really rather well-preserved. It sang a song that the group of children didn't really listen to: how could they when their hearts were pounding so viciously in their ears? All they'd managed to hear was something about Gryfflepuffs and flying monkeys, though they weren't quite sure they'd heard correctly.

The song finished and the kids only faintly registered that it had sang, in rhymes, about the four houses in Hogwarts... which McGonagall had gone over already anyway.

And she was the one calling people up to try on the Sorting Hat.

Depending on what their last names started with most were either thanking their ancestors or cursing them silently.

"Arnold, Adam."

His name was called and there was silence before a small boy shuffled up to the Sorting Hat, he sat in the chair: in front of everyone and looked about ready to pass out.

The hat was placed on his head, "Ravenclaw!" it cried, and the Ravenclaw table cheered and he ran to it quick to leave the intense gaze of fellow students.

He had to run back no more than five seconds later though, to hand the hat back to McGonagall because no one seemed to want to take it back up for him.

"Bennet, Maria."

"Hufflepuff!" the hat cried before touching her head, with a blush she rushed to join the cheering table.

"Black, Sirius."

James leaned over whispering to Peter, "Slytherin." he whispered, "He already has relatives in there. There's no doubt about it he's--"

"Gryffindor!!"

"He's..." James continued, stunned.

"In Gryffindor." Peter finished, seeing as James' jaw seemed about ready to fall off.

There was a stupefied silence for a few seconds before Sirius Black went to join the silent Gryffindor table. Though they started clapping once they got over the initial shock of it all.

"Drake, Ashley." became the first female Ravenclaw.

"Evans, Lily."

"Gryffindor!"

Other names were called, Peter patting James on the back as he seemed completely disoriented.

"He's in Gryffindor? He's in Gryffindor? Bleedin' hat has gone positively loony I say. With my luck we'll be in the same common room!"

"You will be. Since you're going into Gryffindor, aren't you?"

"Think I can bribe the hat to call Sirius back and sort him into Hufflepuff? Hell, even Ravenclaw?" James questioned curiously.

"Doubt it." Peter replied ruthlessly; or at least ruthless in James' eyes but to everyone it was a simple observation of the pudgy one. "Why don't you ask for another house?"

"You're loony too! Gryffindor's the best everyone knows that. Hufflepuffs are pushovers, Ravenclaws are bunches of nerds- the lot of them, and Slytherins are of course devil incarnates."

"Lunae, Valencia."

Remus, who hadn't been partaking of James' heated discussion with Peter, had been half ready to go up at the beginning of the name, since the first syllable seemed so alike.

A petite redhead rushed up to the hat, looking undaunted as she practically jammed it onto her head.

"Gryffindor!"

She bounded off to the respective table, smiling broadly as she cheered: 'I got into Gryffindor!'

"Lunae, Vincentia."

The mirror twin of the previous redhead, identical... only one was left-handed.

She seemed to be taking longer than her sister had before the Sorting Hat called "Gryffindor!" decidedly. With something akin to a pout Vincentia went to join her cheering sister.

"Lupin, Remus."

Remus walked up at his own pace, feeling everyone watching him and silently yelling for him to walk faster. But he didn't want to run... it would seem unnatural. He wished he were at home right now, and desperately hoped he wasn't walking funny. Did he walk funny? Was his walk odd? Was it uneven? Did he sway unnaturally? How terribly embarrassing...

"What is it with redheads?" James questioned Peter in an offhanded way, "All getting sorted into Gryffindor. Carrot tops... the lot of them."

The hat was placed atop Remus' head and he almost fell from the chair since he hadn't been expecting... well, a voice in his head to say the least.

'Werewolf?' it questioned curiously, 'Been a while since I've sorted one like you into a house. If I were to make quick assumptions I'd put you right in Slytherin.'

He heard the hat laugh in a wheezing way. Which was awkward.

Really awkward.

'But I doubt you'd do well there... not your kind of people. Ravenclaw maybe? How's that sound?'

'I'd like to be in Gryffindor if you don't mind...' Remus thought to the Sorting Hat.

'...For the twins eh?' the Sorting Hat asked with a sort of cackle afterwards, 'You're awfully young to be thinking things like that. This new generation is growing up mighty fast, it seems.'

'No actually, it's just that's where the people I met on the train want to get sorted into...'

'...I see. All right then, GRYFFINDOR!' it shouted the last bit out loud so everyone heard, and then in Remus' head it reminded him: 'Oh, don't forget to take me off. Don't want a repeat of Arnold's mistake.'

Remus did so then walked numbly over to the cheering Gryffindor table.

"Pettigrew, Peter."

The rest of the students watched as Peter flailed and nearly fell out of the chair after putting the hat on.

'Hufflepuff?...No, that's not for you.'

"Gryffindor please." Peter replied, in a whisper that most heard. It appeared he didn't quite know how to carry on a conversation in his head.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

And it laughed. Aloud.

Peter went to join Remus.

"Potter, James."

James sauntered over to the Sorting Hat, despite being overly self-conscious about the bruise on his face. He hoped that it wasn't too noticeable, or that perhaps the entire room had been temporarily blinded and thus wouldn't notice. Though the latter wasn't very likely.

There was a light wave of whispering and silent laughter that spread throughout the crowd like wildfire, a sort of contagious wave.

And James, being James, sat on the chair and before the hat was placed on his head shouted, "Yes- I have a bloody bruise! It's not a strange birthmark. Mind your business the lot of you."

As he was chastised by McGonagall, second years and above commended him, thinking it was smart to say all that before he was sorted. After all she couldn't very well say, 'Ten points from whatever house you're going to be in!', now could she?

The hat was placed on his head, "GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted with utmost ease.

And so he joined the half-cheering, half-groaning table of Gryffindors as Ravenclaws heaved a sigh of relief.

"So rather than be known as 'the boy with the bruise' you'd be known as 'the Gryffindor with Tourettes?" the supposedly should-be Slytherin spoke with a smirk.

James glared at him, "Stuff it, Black."

"Seriously." Peter added.

Remus snorted, apparently the only one other than Sirius who understood the unintentional pun.

"Snape, Severus." McGonagall called and once again the tables fell into pseudo-silence.

James recognized him as one of the students who had been just sort of hanging out in the background during his and Black's spat.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat called and he went to join the 'enthusiastic' table.

"If they made anymore noise I'd be deaf." Sirius said with a snort.

"Don't try and change the subject!" James challenged with a glare.

"...Well, what was the subject?" Sirius asked, genuinely oblivious.

That was when Dumbledore made a speech of welcome to the newcomers and a 'welcome back' to returning students. The aging man had a twinkle in his eyes that spoke of a colorful past and intellectual wit.

And the feast began, and almost everyone was eager to dig in.

It should be called the Day of Gluttony, renamed and marked in calendars everywhere.

"Lookit him. Stuffing his face." James said purposely loud, speaking to Remus and Peter who sat on either side of him, wanting Sirius to hear his words. It was of course part of human nature to do so, a sort of challenge, though no one could really ever explain why.

"You mean Black?" Peter questioned.

Remus was the only one who found the irony and hypocrisy of James statement, as James himself continued to pile food onto his plate.

"Who else?" James asked.

"You know I can hear you perfectly." Sirius commented, not bothering to look up at He Who Spoke Ill of Him.

"Now he's implying that my whispering is shouting. Bloody arrogant git."

Remus stayed silent, it all seemed like some sort of misunderstanding that would find its way onto a poorly made, half-comical muggle sitcom.

Like "Beverly Hillbillies."

Coincidentally one of James' favorite muggle television shows.

"Look Potter, since we're in the same house and all I think we should just be all right with each other. You started it all earlier anyway."

Even Peter knew that was something you just didn't say.

It was childish, and ultimately would irk the other person beyond belief.

"I what? I did not! You came up out of no where and just attacked me like some wild, animal, rabid monkey beast." James countered eloquently.

"I'm not even going to ask. But look, you did insult my mother."

"I was talking to the guy behind you." James explained, feeling an understanding and apology forthcoming.

"The guy behind me was my younger brother."

And silence fell heavily upon the children.

"...I was only joking." James said with a sort of embarrassed laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck in a fashion that would seem almost apologetic. "But come on, you have to admit your mum is a solemn girl isn't she?"

And rather than hex James, Sirius simply laughed- the same barking laugh that they'd heard earlier. "No doubt about that, what're your names? I only caught Potter's."

"James, call me James. Potter sounds like a poof name. Potter. Who has names with two syllables?" Sirius agreed with a nod, even though it was common knowledge that most names have only two syllables.

"I'm Peter. Peter Pettigrew."

"See... we're correct, because his last name is..." James paused, "three syllables. Therefore it's positively normal."

"And you?" Sirius asked, noticing that of the four the one nameless boy (nameless only to him though) wasn't very talkative. Though he supposed James did enough talking for everyone.

"Remus Lupin." He finally spoke, apparently they didn't understand the concept of not being able to speak while eating.

Heaven forbid someone actually swallow one's food before introducing themselves.

"Tough break there. Two syllables both ways- have a middle name?"

"John."

"Ah! Normalcy." Sirius declared, "You know, I think one day we should just stand on the staircases and to random people passing by shout: 'You there! How many syllables have you got?' It'd be brilliant. We could do it next year, to strike fear into unsuspecting first years hearts!" Sirius finished with a grin.

"It's the first day of our education here and already you're looking a full three-hundred and sixty-five days into the future. That's serious planning skills you have there." Remus mentioned.

Sirius looked at Remus with a look that said: 'I get that a lot', but he laughed anyway. "That was the corniest thing ever."

At first Remus seemed abashed but then he smiled quirkily when he realized that Sirius didn't mean it as an insult. "Surely not ever."

Because frankly Remus being asked if he had a twin named Romulus would be cornier. At least what Remus' said was a pun, whereas if someone were to ask about 'Romulus'... well, that would be sheer stupidity,

So the four began to cement their friendship through laughter and funny anecdotes, completely forgetting the ill-will that had previously taken place, even Remus began to open up more than usual to his new companions and they were speaking as if they'd known eachother all eleven years of their lives.

They needed to be on friendly terms though, afterall they would be sharing a room for seven years. Wouldn't want to have enemies sleeping in the same room as you. Especially in a school of witchcraft and wizardry. Who knows what they could do to one another.

Oh how Remus dreaded April Fool's Day...

And voila. The craptacular beginning of my story :D Towards the end I think I kinda rushed it... but that's okay. You forgive me don't you? T_T I promise to make more of an effort for the other chapters.

Hooray!

-Sarah