A/N: Slight spoilers for Deathly Hallows, but it won't be anything that could ruin the plot.
I Solemnly Swear
:I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good:
Out of all the students Hogwarts had ever seen, there were four that were, by far, the most entertaining: The Marauders. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew. Four boys that had everything going for them.
James Potter, the leader, was top in all of his classes without even trying. His teachers marveled at the fact that he could nap through all his classes and still pass with flying colors. People wondered what he'd be like if he actually tried, if he actually studied. They figured he'd be the best student Hogwarts ever had. Teachers loved him because of his brains, but students loved him because he was James, because he had led the Gryffindor Quidditch team to victory every year since he had made the team, because he always found a way to brighten a day, because he was funny and athletic and cool. He was the unofficial "President/Leader/Ruler" of Gryffindor house.
Sirius Black, James very best friend and second-in-command, wasn't quite as smart as James, though he still received high marks. Any party that ever took place in Gryffindor house was organized by Sirius Black. He flaunted the fact that he was the only Black in seven hundred years to be sorted into Gryffindor, and the rest of his house loved him for it. Sirius had been unbelievably Gryffindor-like, brave and loyal, and, like James, had a knack for getting in trouble. Sirius had been the first Hogwarts student, ever, to get so many detentions that he served more than three at once.
Remus Lupin, the more serious one of the group, was the one that everyone felt comfortable talking to. When people felt intimidated talking to James or Sirius, they came to Remus, who assured them that, no matter how scary his two friends looked, they were really quite kind. Remus was the one that had to study to keep his grades up, and was always either second or third best in his class. He was the one that kept a level head, the one that kept the two leaders out of trouble, the one to make sure that they wouldn't do anything terribly stupid.
Peter Pettigrew, slower than the other three, was the odd one out. Nobody could understand why the other three put up with him, why they didn't ignore him and kick him out of the group. Peter was the one who couldn't lie, the reason they got caught and punished for any rule-breaking. But Peter was unusually nice, for someone who people often disliked, and he tended to ignore (or maybe not notice) when he was made fun of. James, Sirius, and Remus defended him fiercely, and nobody ever asked why. He stuck close to his friends for all his seven years at Hogwarts, and nobody doubted that he would make his mark on the world, simply because he was friends with the other three.
Those four boys had everything going for them. They were going somewhere. And then, one by one, in the most cruel, unfair ways, they were gone. Vanished from the face of the earth. Soon people would forget about them. Soon they would not be written about in history books, as they should have been, would have been. It was horribly unfair, how the four people that could've done anything they wanted were ripped from the world, taken from those who loved them, those that they loved.
But before they disappeared, they must first have grown up. This is the story of four amazing wizards, of four friends that stuck together through thick and thin, of four people that surely would have lived forever, had they wanted to. This is the story of the Marauders.
Eleven-year-old James Potter was very upset. And not for the normal reasons of an eleven-year-old. He hadn't run out of candy, nor had his parents taken away his broomstick. Rather, James Potter had just recently discovered that he couldn't get whatever he wanted. James Potter had just been ordered to do something he had never imagined he would ever have to do. James Potter had just been ordered to clean his room.
In all his eleven years, James Potter had never (ever ever ever!) had to tidy up his bedroom. (Not because they had house elves to do it; Twinkle and Slinky flat-out refused to step foot in his messy bedroom, and Mrs. Potter supported their decision whole-heartedly.) His parents just didn't care, so long as he remembered to keep his door closed when they had company over.
But now, on this beautiful Saturday, on this wonderfully gorgeous day that should be spent running around outside, James Potter was going to be cleaning his room. And not just in a "pick-up-your-things" way, no, this was a full-fledged "this-room-must-be-completely-spotless-by-tonight-or-else" way. All because of that stupid party!
Every year since James could remember, his parents had thrown a huge "Ball-slash-dinner party" at the end of the summer. It was a kind of Hogwarts first meeting; all the Hogwarts students and parents attended, and it was widely considered one of the best parties of the year.
But James didn't like parties much. This would be his first time as an actual host. For the past ten years, he had weaseled out of it by saying that he wasn't technically a student yet, and couldn't technically be forced to attend. His parents hadn't had a rebuttal, and he found himself, every year, hiding at the top of the staircase and silently laughing at the younger students, who looked so awkward in their fancy party clothes. And now he would be one of them, one of the people he had made fun of every year of his life. How ironic.
What did this party have to do with James Potter having a clean room, you might ask? According to Mrs. Potter, the eleven- and twelve-year-old children got bored easily, and this year might actually have a way to entertain themselves: By hanging out in James's room.
And so as the hours left until the party ticked by, James begrudgingly picked up his month-old laundry and various Quidditch magazines. He got bored of this within five minutes, and came up with a wonderful idea. He peeked his head out the door slyly, and closed and locked the door as quietly as he possible could. James crawled under his bed and finally came up with a long, thin box. He opened it carefully, and pulled out the wand within.
Nobody was supposed to know, but Mr. and Mrs. Potter had taken James to Ollivander's shop early, and he was now the first of all the first-years to own a wand. He waved it around in the air, testing its powers, and a shimmer of red and gold sparkles dusted the air.
"Now, what did mum say?" He wondered aloud, thinking back to his mother's spell. "Oh, yeah! Scourgify!
And in the blink of an eye, James Potter's room was completely spotless. Not a single dust bunny lay on the floor, and his Quidditch magazines now lay, neatly stacked, at the foot of his bed. He grinned triumphantly and hid the wand under his bed again. He would've bet a million galleons that no other first year could do that.
His sense of accomplishment was short-lived, however, as he heard the sharp cry of his mum downstairs. He sighed, kicked at the floor, and left to do whatever chore was in store for him now.
A/N: I've been planning on starting a Marauder story for a while now, and I finally did! I'm quite proud of myself, honestly. Please review? I'll love you for ever…