AKI- I swore to myself a long time ago that I would write to fanfics at the same time, but, yeah I am breaking my own rules. But hey rules are meant to be broken.
We were supposed to be a Hogwarts' legend. A legacy passed on for years in stories and rumors that were exaggerated more and more each time they were told. We were supposed to be remembered. That was the reason James and Sirius did all they did. That was the reason I let James and Sirius drag me into it all. They wanted to break free of the mundane of forgotten students that go threw Hogwarts that no one knows about the next generation.
James and Sirius, wild and crazy, they were reckless, imaginative, and smart at the same time being vigilant, insipid, and completely thick. Even though then and now I did not agreed with some of the things they, we did, I still understand why we did them. They wanted to be known, and they were. Aside just being great guys, that is what drew me and Peter to them. They just had that spirit of greatness about them.
We became popular at school. Everyone knew who we were and what we did. We became infamous to the teachers and students alike. Yeah, we earned some enemies, but we also earned some admirers and some friends too. How I long to say life-long friends now, but as it turned out, life has not been very long, and friends have not always been friends.
It was almost painful when I returned to Hogwarts to teach and no one knew me as a part of those reckless marauders, but just shabby looking teacher. And James Potter was just another victim of Voldemort and father of the famous Harry Potter, but no one remembers him as a playful prankster. At that time, Peter Pettigrew was dead and forgotten, instead of being rumored of being part of the greatest friendship of all time. And Sirius Black was a murder, and no one cared about his days as a humorous boy, thinking up new ways to trick Filch and the Slytherins.
Our story should have been told and passed down by elder students, and recalled by Professors. We should have had children trying to follow our footsteps, reuse our nick-names, and reenact our pranks, while others tried to beat our record. And even if our true story and names were washed away with times, but the students still knew of the original marauders, that would have been enough. We would have left something behind. We would have imprinted something at the heart of the school. Our job would be done, but no one tells the story of two dead men, a traitor, and a werewolf…
But maybe they should.
If they told our story maybe they would remember not to judge someone because of their family, house, blood, or breed. Maybe they would know how important friendship is and how to trust others and give them a chance, and if they screw up the first one, give them a second chance. Maybe they would realize it is what is on the inside that counts and there are some things worth dieing for. That your family is not by were your blood is, but by where your heart is. And that you should not impress the girl you like by showing off, but being true to yourself and that true love is worth waiting for.
Very few people know the whole, accurate story of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs and even fewer know its significance. It is not about pranks, or girls, or popularity. It is not about secret passageways, or Quiditch, or magical maps. It is about friendship, and prejudice, and defying our predestined positions in life. It is about looking past stereotypes, generalizations, and bigotry. It is about seeing the heart of a person. It is about love and caring and trust and hope for the future, and, okay, maybe a little bit of Quiditch.
But like I said earlier, no one tells the story of two dead men, a traitor, and a werewolf, but maybe they should.
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