It's the Marauders' first year at school, and it's going to be full of madness, mayhem, and above all, magic. (Sirius Black, Jamie Potter, Remus Lupin, and Petra Pettigrew.)
cover by upthehillart
Patrick stood by the brook. He watched it as it gurgled and gushed past, lost in thought. This was where Lillian and that nasty girl from Spinner's End had come, and then Lillian had forgotten about Patrick. Where they'd talked for long hours about everything and nothing, ignoring the rest of the world.
His brother had abandoned him for the girl who came and spoke of Magic, monsters, witches and wizards.
They hadn't even bothered including him in their conversations, even if Patrick was only a Muggie, or whatever the word was. They still had no right. Patrick kicked a stone into the brook angrily, thinking of how he'd written to the man named Albus Dumbledore, begging him to let Patrick attend Hogwarts. Dumbledore had refused him, but had been very kind. And then his own brother and that girl had gone peeping and prying through his stuff, and then they'd laughed at him.
The oily-headed girl from the wrong side of the tracks had waltzed into his world, and had stolen his brother with clever words and tempting promises. Patrick had been neglected; forgotten, and they hadn't given him a second thought. And now they'd gone off to Hogwarts, and Patrick was the brother they'd left behind.
Patrick held the small, insignificant note Lillian had sent him, no doubt that Severa had forgotten all about him and left him for better friends who were proper wizards. Lillian had sent letters before, but they were short, and unthoughtful, and Patrick had told him not to bother writing again. He had also prevented his parents from receiving Lillian's letters. If Lillian could not be bothered to speak to Patrick properly, it only seemed fair that he should not speak to his parents either.
Patrick wondered if he should even open it. He debated whether he should toss it into the stream, but curiosity got the better of him, and he ripped it open roughly.
Pat,
Can't we talk? I don't remember the last time you wrote. And mum and dad aren't replying either. Please. I miss you.
Love, Lillian.
It was a short, miserable note, one that his brother had evidently scribbled down last minute. For almost a moment, Patrick felt guilty about stopping the mail between his parents and his brother, but then he looked at the thoughtless note, and felt a vindictive pleasure arise within himself.
Lillian deserved this. He'd deserted Patrick, and now he was reaping his reward.
He would not deign Lillian with a response. Instead, he laughed savagely, and ripped up the sorry piece of parchment. He tossed it into the rushing brook, and watched as the little shreds were caught up, and carried down the river.
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Remus put the letter she'd just finished to Lillian to the side, intending to ask Leah to send them off later.
Frankie's letter was next. It looked fairly short, which came as a relief to Remus. Her brain was still fried, and she wasn't ready for an essay length monstrosity of a message from her friend.
