Kay. Idk where this is going, but some stories involving the marauders have been spinning around in my head for agees. So i'm sorry if it doesnt get as much detail as you expected, but some events (like Quidditch) really don't interest me :'). But hey, there'll be a few stories from each year. Oh, and i'm also sorry if some subjects covered in my other fics are repeated here, especially if they don't go the same way :) but i have too many ideas!!
Disclaimer; I own nothing in the Potterverse, nothing! How unfortunate.
The Marauders; Class of '77.
Chapter One - Life.
10 year old James Potter ran down the twisting staircase of his family home, jumping the last few steps and leaping into the kitchen, where his parents were waiting. Breakfast smelled particularly good that morning; his mother had made bacon and eggs and their welcoming smell made his tummy flip. His father smiled at him through black-rimmed glasses over the morning Prophet, and James smiled back, taking a place at the table.
"Morning, dear." His mother called from across the room, standing by the cooker. She too smiled warmly at her son, then sighed and walked towards him. Straightening his glasses, she kissed him on the forehead and ruffled his already messy black hair before returning to the other side of the kitchen, chuckling. James had gotten used to his glasses sitting lopsided - they simply refused to stay straight.
Mrs. Potter then returned to the table with a plate, and laid it down in front of her son, who was looking at it hungrily. He looked up at the woman, smiled and said "Thankyou Mum" in a sweet voice, then picked up his knife and fork, and began to eat.
All was well in the Potter household.
"Don't you dare bring my son into this, William!"
Peter Pettigrew listened to the shouting coming from the family kitchen, and pushed his hands harder over his ears. He had no wish to listen to his parent's fighting. He knew things were rough between them - his dad had been with another woman - but he didn't want to hear the proof. He just wanted a family.
"Our son Jane! Our son! You can't stop me from seeing him!"
His mother laughed in an unnaturally low voice. "Oh really? Just watch me."
There was silence then. A silence in some ways more painful than the shouting. Then it was broken by a smash.
"Stupid woman! You can't do that!"
His mother didn't reply. No doubt she'd have cuts on her head tomorrow.
Peter pulled the duvet over his head, wishing it would all stop.
"For heavens' sake, Sirius. Smarten up, will you? Your cousins are here."
Sirius Black began to absentmindedly play with his hair as he watched his mother walk to his younger brother, then plant a kiss on his forehead before leaving. Sirius tutted under his breath. Regulus was her favourite, he knew that. No need to flaunt it, though.
He was 10, Regulus was 6. His three older cousins were visiting that day - something which Sirius had grown to dread. Narcissa, the youngest, was 15, and had just started her 5th year at Hogwarts. Bellatrix was 16 - a sixth year prefect. Andromeda was the only one Sirius had time for. She was unlike either of her sisters; her hair was blonde like Narcissa, but her eyes were kind and caring. Her face was never without her trademark smile. She was 19, and had left Hogwarts herself, along with her secret boyfriend Ted - whom the rest of the family knew nothing about.
"Hello, dearest Sirius." Bellatrix snickered upon seeing him. He merely rolled his eyes and greeted her. Narcissa remained quiet, her lips pursed. They both moved on to greet Regulus, and Sirius rolled his eyes again. Andromeda greeted him with a full-blown smile, ignoring her younger sisters and his younger brother leaving the room. She crouched to his height and hugged him.
"Ignore them, mate," She whispered, "They're nothing. I like it better now they pretend I don't exist."
Sirius laughed. Andromeda had been practically disowned by the rest of the Blacks upon being sorted into Hufflepuff rather than Slytherin. There was nothing Sirius would have loved more.
"Come on," she said, laughing with him, "Let's have some fun."
She pulled some dungbombs from her pocket and winked. Sirius couldn't help but smile.
The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black wouldn't know what had hit them.
Remus Lupin opened his eyes in the morning light to see his mother sitting next to him on the grass, holding a jar of the nasty-smelling paste she used to heal his cuts. She turned, and her tired face lit up slightly as she smiled softly at her only son.
"Morning, Remus." She leaned over his body and began to dab at his wounds. Remus sat up and tried to smile. He couldn't. He had nothing to smile for. He hadn't had anything to smile for since he was 6 - when an encounter with one Fenrir Greyback had ruined his foreseeable future. Now, every month he turned into a ravenous, uncontrollable monster.
Remus Lupin was a 10 year old werewolf.
Since then, his mother would take him to the forest every full moon, and then she would return to collect him and see to his self-inflicted wounds. She looked after him, and never turned her back on him. She was saddened just as much as he was by the fact that he would never have a normal life, but she stayed strong for his sake.
His father, on the other hand, had completely turned his back on his son. He spent his time getting constantly and systematically drunk. He never said two words to Remus, and that hurt more than the transformations. His own father didn't even care. His own father had lost all hope.
His mother helped him to his feet and they headed back to their modest country house, into their slightly shabby kitchen. Mr. Lupin had lost his job because of his drinking years ago, and Mrs. Lupin tried to support the family best she could. Sometimes, she lived under the false pretenses that things would get easier once Remus went to Hogwarts; then the realization would hit her like a brick wall and almost knock her off her own feet.
Remus would never go to Hogwarts. Werewolves just weren't accepted.
She watched her son limp to his bedroom and tried to smile.
Then she collapsed into a chair, and cried.