The Marauders Year 1

2

"Hello, is that yours?" Sirius asked stopping beside the teenage boy stood outside number 12 Grimauld Place.
"Yeah, she's a beauty isn't she," said the boy grinning and running a finger over the panelling of the sleek, shiny, black motorbike.
"Yeah!" Sirius said gazing admiringly at the work of art parked at the curb next to him. "Um... could I have a go?"
'Sure thing bro," the boy grinned, "you know how to work it?"
"I know the theory," Sirius said smiling. He put of foot on one of the pedals and hoisted himself up over the bike.
"Sirius! She's coming!"
The voice seemed to echo out of thin air and the boy looked around in confusion but Sirius knew where it was coming from: the top floor, middle window of the concealed number 12 Grimauld Place, and the voice belonged to his younger brother Regulus.
"On second thoughts I'd better go," he said leaping down from the bike and beginning to run across the road.
"Wait! Where are you going?" yelled the boy.
'Home," Sirius shouted, "to hide from my mother!"
"Sirius Orion Black the III!" Mrs. Black's voice shrieked across the street. To a muggles eyes she seemed to appear out of thin air but Sirius saw her stride across the invisible barrier which separated number 12 from the rest of the street. The owner of the motorbike gaped.
"Were you, or were you not, outside without permission in the company of a MUGGLE?!" shrieked Mrs. Black seizing Sirius by the ear and dragging him across the street.
"You are a disgrace boy! A disgrace to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black!"
"Crucio!"
Sirius felt his body contract and then fall to the floor, and the pain was terrible and he was dieing and it would never stop and then... the spell was lifted. The motorbike boy stood transfixed as Sirius screamed again and writhed on the ground.
Then Mrs. Black pointed her wand at the motorbike boy.
"No!" Sirius yelled, thinking she was going to crucio the boy too. Sirius flung himself in front of the boy and screamed in pain again, falling to the ground as his mother advanced until Sirius was lying at her feet.
"Stand up Sirius, I'm not going to cruciate the boy, I'm simply going to make sure he doesn't remember the magic, that's all, stand aside."
Slowly and shakily Sirius got up and moved to the side. His mother wasn't going to hurt the boy. It was ok. She was just going to make him forget.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"No!"
The boy fell to the ground lifeless and unmoving the ghost of his last scream etched on his lips. The tears poured from Sirius' eyes as his precious mother dragged him inside. Sirius ran up to his room and fell on his bed crying and crying, hiding from his mother, his mother the monster, the murderer and the killer of the boy with the bike.
Then it occurred to me that I didn't even know his name.

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"Come on James honey, wake up."
The voice was his mums. As she walked about the room opening curtains and straightening clothes she left an aura of love behind her. "I'll bring you some hot chocolate shall I dear?" she asked.
Yeah, alright mum, with waffles and some toast!" James shouted after her as she closed the room behind her. Running his hand through his hair and making sure it was suitably messy he grabbed his glasses off the bedside table and put them on. James looked in the mirror opposite his bed and spotted his reflection, a skinny boy of eleven with jet black messy hair that stuck up all over the place and glasses that framed his brown eyes perfectly. He looked at himself and one crooked tooth caught his bottom lip as he grinned as reflection.
"James honey!" Shouted his mother from downstairs and James crashed through the door and flung himself onto the banisters and sliding down the three floors to the kitchen.
Delicious smells of honey and cooking waffles filled the Potter Mansion or, as everyone who had ever been there called it, 'the nest'.
"James! Please don't do that!" cried Dora Potter while James' father Charlus Potter roared with laughter and ruffled James' hair and by the time the waffles were on the table even Dora was smiling slightly watching her son and husband discuss pranks.
"James get the dishes sweetie," said Dora and James clattered his way to the kitchen with the plates piled high.
"Charlus, where's your wand?" asked Dora suddenly.
Charlus Potter looked down at the space his wand had been lying and then together they glanced at the kitchen which issued an almighty crash.
"James Charlus Fleamont Potter!" yelled Dora and grabbing her wand and dashing into the kitchen and looking around for the cause of the crash.
James stood there, broken plates all over the floor and Charlus' wand in his hand looking exactly like someone who had just been cornered.
"Mum!" he said giving what he felt was a jaunty, winning smile. "Dad!" he cried as Charlus entered the kitchen.
"What did you do?" sighed Dora looking around at the smashed crockery.
"I was trying to wash them with magic," admitted James. "I think I got the spell wrong," he added after his mum had given him a look.
"Repero," said Charles calmly, reclaiming his wand. "Dora dear, add that to the list of things that we don't let James do." He kissed her on the cheek and went back to the living room to play exploding snap with James.

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"I SAID I WAS COMING HOME AND I WANTED TEA! DO I SEE TEA? NO I DO NOT!"
Jonathan Pettigrew slammed his fist onto the table in the kitchen and the whole house seemed to shake. Dust fell from the rafters of the hovel that the Pettigrew family lived in. Mary Pettigrew was pleading with her husband.
"Peter was ill, I had to take care of him, he's got the flu John please."
"Do I do nothing for this family?" shouted Jonathon Pettigrew. "Who brings in the money? I DO! All you had to do was cook the food you stupid woman!"
He actually grabbed Mary around the neck and shook her.
"John please, I'll have tea ready, your favourite, you're drunk John, put me down please!" Mary was turning a delicate shade of green now and she was gasping for breath.
Peter, who was sitting in the corner on a stool, unable to stand it any longer leapt up.
"Let her go!" he yelled. "You put her down, what's mum ever done to you?" Jonathon turned slowly round, like a bull watching a red flag and suddenly realising that I can reach the crowd around the ring.
"Don't you ever..!" he yelled, grabbing Peter by the shoulders and shaking him "speak to me in that DISRESPECTFUL tone AGAIN!"
"Let go of me!" yelled Peter, "I'll give you 3 seconds, 3,"
"Are you threatening me?"
"2," said Peter icily.
"Don't you threaten me!"
"1."
Jonathon yelled in pain as a bright light radiated from his son making him impossible to hold. Peter staggered back amazed by the amount of power he had managed to generate and Mary screamed. A loud crack issued through the kitchen and two cloaked men stood in the middle of the room staring around at the scene.
"Mr. Pettigrew?" asked the first one addressing Peter.
"Yes," squeaked Peter. "That's me."
"My name is Anthony Prewitt, I'm an auror from the Ministry of Magic."
"The what?" asked Peter.
"Magic?" croaked Mary Pettigrew.
"Who are you?" thundered Jonathon swelling back to his normal size.
Anthony looked around the room calmly taking in the sweating Jonathon, shivering Mary and scared looking Peter.
"Mr and Mrs. Pettigrew, your son is a wizard."  

Fellow Potterheads let us raise our wands to our fallen warriors on the 2nd of May 1998.

-Maddy x