Year One-The Marauders Meet

Prologue

Remus

Remus Lupin was the son of Hope and Lyall Lupin. He was eleven, very tall, with amber eyes and brown hair. He had a few fading scars across his chest from his monthly nightmare.

Of course, Remus had never been told the full story. He only knew that Lyall had somehow upset Fenrir Greyback and the werewolf had retaliated by biting Remus when he was four-almost five-years old. Remus had lived his first few years a happy toddler, with a great family and a great life. Then everything had changed over the course of one day. His life, which had been so carefully constructed by two people who loved their son, had been taken, crumbled into a ball, then set on fire.

Remus had lost everything-except his parents, who could no longer look at him quite the same way. Especially not Lyall. When Lyall looked at Remus, Remus knew what he thought.

"This is my fault. I broke my son."

And that hurt Remus more than he cared to admit. Because Remus wasn't broken, not yet anyway. He wasn't even a teenager yet. He still had a life to live. As long as there was breath filling his lungs and blood running through his veins, his life was full. Perhaps cracked in a few places, but everyone had cracks. Remus' were just a little deeper.

And then Remus had overheard the conversation.

"...They must not know about his Lycanthropy." Lyall's voice drifted up to where Remus stood at the top of the stairs. "We can't let him go."

"But he has magic, Lyall. He might be a werewolf but he's also a wizard." Hope answered.

"Hope, if we could send him to Hogwarts we would. But we can't. The students and staff would both be in danger."

"I-Lyall, come on. He's your son. He deserves the chance. We could owl Dumbledore..." Hope trailed off.

"Then what Hope? We send him to a school where people might find out? He could be attacked. He could hurt them. It's too dangerous."

Remus, unable to listen to anymore, had run back upstairs and collapsed on his bed. Perhaps he was broken after all.

Peter

Peter Pettigrew was a chubby boy of eleven years with Sandy colored hair, watery blue eyes, and lightly freckled cheeks. Peter was rather short, but he could always grow.

Ailsa and Winston Pettigrew believed that Peter would be very important in the coming days of war-not that they told him this of course. They told him they loved him and when he got his Hogwarts letter they told him they were proud of him and of course they were proud of him, but Peter couldn't shake the feeling that Hogwarts, while being his dream school and of course mattering a great deal to his future, was very important.

How exactly? Well, Peter had no idea. Only time would tell. Perhaps he would meet his future wife there. Perhaps he would learn the secrets of the earth. It might have just been the fact that he was going to a school to learn magic, and, being a wizard, that would make his life a whole lot easier. But no, for whatever reason, Peter felt as though he would meet his future there.

His destiny.

Sirius

Sirius Black was one of two sons to Walburga and Orion Black. The 'Noble and Ancient House of Black,' was completely pure-for now. Sirius was eleven years old with neatly combed black hair, grey eyes, and slightly tanned skin. His family was obsessed with purity of blood, but Sirius wasn't. He hoped-secretly of course, he could never say any of this out loud-that he wouldn't be put in Slytherin. He hoped he could escape the horrible beliefs of his mother and father, and that he could convince them that they were wrong.

The chances were low but that didn't stop him from dreaming about it every time he closed his eyes.

And who knew what would happen? Perhaps he would in fact get everything he wanted. Perhaps he would get only some of what he wanted. He might even get none of what he wanted but that didn't stop him from wanting it.

And he did want it.

James

James Potter was an eleven year old boy with messy black hair, square glasses, and hazel eyes. He was taller than average, but not so tall as to be considered tall. At least not yet anyway.

His parents, Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, were both pure-bloods, therefore making James a pure blood as well, but, despite the fact that many people believed all pure bloods to be evil because of the rise of a dark wizard, Fleamont and Euphemia went out of their way to make their son understand that he wasn't better than anyone else because he was a pure blood. He could easily turn out to be horrible at magic if he didn't put in the work and people who said otherwise didn't know what they were talking about.

They always said the same thing:

"Remember James, the only way a person can get anywhere in life is if they do the work. If the quill is never picked up, the words will never be written."

And James, even though he was young, believed those words with all of his heart. He knew, with every fiber of his being, that the only way to actually get something done was to do it himself. To get off his arse, pick up the quill, and paint the new picture he wanted. And he wasn't qualified to do that because of his blood status.

No, James was qualified because he was willing to take the time to do something that would benefit all witches and all wizards.

All people in general. Because whether you have magic or you don't, you are a person, and you deserve to be added to the picture of the new world James was going to help build.

~

Okay. There was the prologue. Very uneventful I know. Rather short as well, but the rest of the chapters will be longer. In the other chapter's I probably won't have all four of their POVs, but only one or two depends on how long the chapter is when I finish a POV. (Yes this is third person but I've limited it to one Marauder at a time.) If you have any questions, feel free to ask. If you have suggestions please suggest them. Thank you all so much for reading!

Bye bye for now, Luvs!

(1082 words)