Marauders at Summercamp (au)

Chapter 1

Sirius sat on the bottom step, head propped up by a fist as he hunched over to his knees. Walburga whipped a heavy trunk at his feet; she turned away from her oldest son without a second glance. When he didn't move to take it, his father looked up from the Daily Prophet.

"Sirius. Go," Orion muttered. The boy groaned. He dragged the heavy case up the steps with a thunk, thunk, thunk. Kreacher looked up as the boy passed him and shook his head, turning back to whatever painting he was so lovingly helping Walburga with. Stupid elf, Sirius thought. By the time he had reached the second landing, a door to his left was swinging open.

"Siri? What's this?" His 9-year-old brother peeked his head around the door, trying to figure out the new ruckus. Then again, the house at Grimmauld Place was always making noises.

"Nothin' Reg, go back to your book," Sirius ruffled his brother's hair. The boy patted it down and with a pout shut the door once more.

Sirius tossed shirt after pants after belt and just about everything else he could think of into the trunk, wishing he had the ability to just wave his wand like his parents could. When he was satisfied with the mess of contents, he laid on the top to latch the sides. Then he rooted around in his drawers for the things he didn't want his parents to throw out. His leather jacket? It was a gift from Uncle Alphard that was snuck in last Christmas. His muggle magazines, with all the hottest gossip and people? Definitely wouldn't survive the summer otherwise. His candy stash?

"Hey Reg!" He called. The smaller boy popped his head into the room just a moment later. "Here. It's all yours." Then Sirius took the stuffed trunk and the other once hidden items out the door, only pausing to kiss his little brother's forehead. That boy would be something one day.

Walburga threw the filled trunk towards the door without a second glance, and motioned her son towards her with one finger.

"I'm sending you to this camp to get a taste of what the real world is. If I get any calls home you will wish you'd never been born. Am I clear?" He nodded quickly. His mother's temper wasn't anything to mess with(although that hadn't stopped him on countless incidents before).

——Potter Family——

"James!" The sound of a thousand elephants tumbling down the stairs later, a messy haired eleven year old was before his mother. She motioned her husband over as well; Fleamont set down his drink and met them at the stairwell. Seeing that she had everyone's attention at last, Euphemia continued. "Your father and I are going to spend the summer with your Grandpa Henry... he needs help sorting things out in moving to a smaller house," James nodded.

"So I'll be going with?" He asked. It had been a while since Grandpa Henry had made it to the Potter's Christmas party.

"I don't think he could handle your energy. Not this summer, anyways," His father said, ruffling his son's messy hair. Not even five drops of Sleekeazy's could keep his son's hair tamed down, and it was made with the boy in mind.

"Wait. I'll have the house to myself?!" He exclaimed. Fleamont chuckled.

"Hun, we're sending you to a summer camp. You'll get to bunk with kids your age and dabble in magic and fishing and other fun things." Euphemia hugged her son. "Now go get packed, okay? You leave today,"

——Lupin Family——

Lyall Lupin lounged over the couch, his long legs hanging over the edge. His eyes moved like a typewriter down the page in the Prophet, a freshly baked roll hanging out of the corner of his mouth. His wife had been rushing around all morning to make things just right: Remus might freak out if they approached such a big surprise ill prepared. Their son might only be eleven, but he'd always worry about the things that even most adults wouldn't think of.

A sleepy Remus stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. He grabbed a roll off the still steaming plate, and, after thanking his mother, sat down with an open book at the kitchen counter. Hope shook her head, grabbing a roll of her own. Her husband and son were so much alike, it was a shame they didn't get along so well anymore. She'd fix that, somehow. All it would take is a little perseverance.

"Remus, honey?" Hope asked tenderly. He hummed, not looking up from the page he was reading. "This summer's an opportunity. I want you to enjoy yourself and make a lot of friends. Alright?" His head snapped up, eyes meeting her's instantly.

"What?" Well, by now he had to expect something was up. That's just how her son was.

"Look, I'm not letting you just sit around all summer and read books all day, so I've signed you up for a summer camp. You'll get to spend some time in the sun and meet new friends your age!"

"What about my..." Remus looked at his feet, struggling to form the next few words.

"I talked to the counselors. It'll be kept under wraps and they'll get you the care you need. There's nothing to worry about," Hope said. Remus sighed. He knew if his mother had planned things out this far she wouldn't be backing down from this idea.

"Should I pack my bags then?"

"Grab some books and a toothbrush, I've already got your trunk started,"

——Pettigrew Family——

Peter's mother, like she did every Saturday, had cooked breakfast fit for kings. She went back upstairs to wake up her son. Despite the clanging and banging ruckus she had just made in the kitchen, the short boy was still curled up into his blankets like a mouse cozy in its burrow. She chuckled to herself, before reaching down and shaking his shoulder. The boy groaned and sat up, popping to his feet as soon as the wafting scent of downstairs and darted his way to his seat at the table. She scurried after him, putting a few pancakes on his plate and then her own, doing the same with the fruit and the bacon.

"Pete," his mother started, pulling him away from the food he was devouring. "We've done the same thing every summer. Maybe this year it's time to do something different,"

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I think you should try summer camp for a year or two," Enid Pettigrew patted down her apron. Peter nodded, swallowing the rest of his pancakes.

"Okay mom, then I'll go get packed," he gave her a kiss on the cheek and scurried upstairs.

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Author's note: Well firstly, I don't know why I started writing this but it'll go on for a little bit and I'm excited for that. Secondly, I just wanted to mention that the character Enid Pettigrew does exist but it isn't certain that she is the Mrs. Pettigrew that's the mother of Peter(I'm going to be using that name unless someone confirms or denys wether or not it's her).