#Sirius’s little drawing in the third one! It’s so silly I love him to pieces. He’s just a teenage girl.

[aeteut]

wolfstar ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ au

By likeafunerall, and reposted with permission.

[coffee--writes]

The Message on the Wall

Pairing: James Potter x gn!Reader - Marauders x Reader Content

Word Count: 5.9k (jdklfdh im sorry) 

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Implications of... yeah. I think that’s about it. 

Requested: Yes, a long time (i feel bad for only getting to it but i hope the nonnie stuck around to see this piece) by an anon who asked for James x Reader with childhood best friends to lovers trope. 

Summary: In which, James Potter was busy writing himself a message on the wall but was too blind to read what he had to say. 

Pictures. 

In actuality they were only images. For Muggles, they stood stagnant, for James Potter they moved slightly. 

But in deeper meaning pictures were moments in time captured in a frame. They were a personal reminder of things that were, things that used to be and anything else that didn’t fall into one of the other two categories. 

James Potter adored pictures. His room was littered with them. A handful were of Quidditch players and Tutshill Tornados merchandise. One picture of him and his parents sat on the nightstand beside his bed. But adjourned on the wall to the left was a mostly blank wall. One small Tornados banner was pinned against the soft red paint and in the middle a picture he was particularly fond of. 

The film captured James at the age of four. A broom was clutched in his left hand and a toothy smile on his face as the wind rustled his hair causing it to stick up more than it already did. Beside him was you, your eyes crossed and your tongue licking a swirled lolly. 

When his mother had shown him the picture you had just left for home, making a young James quite sad that his friend couldn’t stay just a little longer. Euphemia Potter had smiled, handing the picture to her son. “It’s okay, my love. Now you have a piece of Y/N with you.” 

“How?” James had asked, his lower lip jutting out in a frown. 

Euphemia laughed. “The picture captures you together. Look how happy the two of you look!” she points at her son’s smile in the photo. “You can do whatever you’d like with it.” 

James grinned, his eyes lighting up once more. “I want to hang it, mum!” he dragged her hand into the bedroom with him, climbing on top of his bedsheets and pressing the picture to the wall. “Here. That way I can say goodnight to them even when they're not here.” 

Euphemia Potter smiled watching as her son tucked himself under the covers. “That’s a brilliant idea, James.” With a wave of her wand, two pins fastened themself to the wall, the photo beneath. 

That was the beginning of James’s love for pictures. More pictures would accumulate such as the one of him and his father at a Tornados game. Drawings you would give him of flowers and Kneazles. The pictures would come and go but yours stayed the same. An additional picture of you and James would later be added three years later when the two of you were seven. James’s broom no longer sat in one hand, instead was gripped with two and hovering five feet off the ground. He had a wicked smile on his face, his glasses slightly falling down his nose. You sat behind him, your small fingers clutching to his waist as the picture captured you mid-squeal. 

Time went on yet the pictures of the two of you stayed the same. Along with your drawings, which had improved dramatically since you were seven, he’d occasionally find a Hollyhead Harpies banner plastered to his wall. When he came to scold you, pink banners adjourned in his hand, you’d laugh at the pout on his lips. He could never stay angry at you and always joined in on your laughter. 

The final year before things would slightly change was the year before going to Hogwarts.  A third picture was added at the age of ten. The Potter family had accompanied your family on a trip to Diagon Alley in which you had bought your screech owl, Juniper. James had one arm wrapped around you. His hair was untidy and a goofy smile was on his face as his other hand flicked your forehead. Your eyes were closed mid-laugh as one hand pushed his face away and the other perched with Juniper who screeched happily on your available arm. 

Again, time went on quickly and changes were made in James Potter’s room but you were not one of them. He packed up his Hogwarts things the night of August 31st, leaving his room full of pictures with a soft smile. 

You rode on the train with him, both of you waving goodbye to your loved ones. You grinned at him wickedly, “Excited?” you ask. 

“Definitely.” he responded. “Do you have money for the trolley?” 

You slide into a train compartment, one small boy already sitting there. “Yeah. Do you need to borrow some?” 

James nodded and you rolled your eyes, handing money over to the kind witch who passed by, grabbing pumpkin pasties for you and Bertie Botts for James. 

The ride was life-changing as you made acquaintances with similar mindsets. Two more boys entered your compartment and along with the scrawny boy from before, all of you made it to Gryffindor. “Where dwell the brave at heart” as James liked to put it. 

First year was an interesting feat with James quickly falling head over heels for Lily Evans. Your friendship never faltered although the thought of her in his life made you feel odd. However, you were sure she wouldn’t be in his life for quite some time seeing as his persistent efforts were met with an equally stubborn rejection. 

“She’s a firecracker, that one.” he sighed, walking beside you down the hall after another devastating encounter with Lily. 

“You’re just embarrassing yourself now, my boy.” you reply, dubbing his nickname to ease the comment. 

He smirked. “Then why do you hang out with me?” 

“Because, I’m the one who makes sure you don’t cross the line from embarrassing to mortifying.” 

He shakes his head with a silly grin. “I doubt that. You love me. That’s why.” 

You laugh, an effective way of avoiding the curious ideas that ran through your young mind. “Don’t throw around the l- word so quickly! You’ve got to mean it.” 

James bumped your side. “But I’ve known you for years.” 

You ruffle his hair, making it messier than it already was. “Save it for Evans.” 

---

The year ended and the two of you went home to Northern England hands overflowing with Gryffindor red, spirits high with a drive for Quidditch practice and addresses from Remus, Peter, and Sirius tucked away in your pockets. 

James’s room changed tremendously that first year. Alongside the Tutshill Tornados merchandise were small Gryffindor banners, lions enchanted to roar at the touch. You had given him one of your sketches from the school year, one of Sirius and him laughing in Transfiguration, another of him and Peter skipping stones. The pictures of the two of you still remained, a small collection of dust coating the edges which he wiped away with a smile. 

Second year was merry and full of high spirits. James had acquired his father’s invisibility cloak which gave cause to a number of nighttime rendezvous and adventures in the kitchens. Suspicion arose on Remus, whose monthly disappearances came to your attention. With the help of Sirius and Peter, the group soon discovered Remus’s guarded secret and accepted the furry little problem with open arms. 

The Lily Evans situation did not get any better with James’s persistence holding up fiercely and her hatred toward him even more harsh. As Sirius had dubbed it, “Mate, at this point you’re never getting married.” Remus and Peter whole-heartedly agreed, sending James into an adolescent spiral. 

“What if I don’t get married, Y/N/N?” he confided in you by the shores of the Black Lake. 

You chuckled, his delirium quite adorable. “You’re going to get married, James. Trust me.” 

He sighed, snapping a twig between his fingers. “It’s not definite.” 

“Nothing is.” you counter. 

James groaned. “I know. I know. But I would like it to be. Wouldn’t you?” 

You contemplated the idea, a thought coming to your head. “What if it could be?” 

He stared at you curiously. Your eyes lit up and James grinned. “Hit me.” 

“If by the time we are thirty neither of us are married then we should get married to each other.” you propose, a proud smile on your face. “That way we can have a definite of our own.” 

James grinned. “I like that idea. But what if one of us gets married before that?”

You frown. “Then I guess it’d be a flop. But it’s better than nothing, right?” 

He agreed quickly. The sun was setting into a pond of pink. The wind rustled and birds chirped and the moment seemed picture perfect and James wished a camera would magically pop up and capture the moment so he’d be able to hang it on his wall for years to come. It did not work that way, instead, he turned to you with a smirk. “I don’t have anything to propose with.” 

You looked down in embarrassment and gave him a shove. “We’re not getting married yet! It’s just a deal not the real thing.” 

He rolled his eyes at you. “I know but it feels as though something special should happen. How about we seal with a spit swear?” 

You stick your tongue out and pretend to gag. “Ew! No.” you flick his forehead causing him to wince. He grins before flicking you back, watching as you fall back onto the grass. 

“I guess a flick works as well.” he sighs. “Y/N Potter has a nice ring to it.” 

Your head falls against his shoulder. “I can’t believe I might be a Potter one day. Sounds disgusting.” 

James laughs, the weight of your head feeling oddly familiar against his shoulder. “Oh, shut it!” 

--- 

The years came and went. Third year, James made the Quidditch team and he quickly became a ladies man despite his obvious pining over Evans. You made sure to keep his feet on the ground as you didn’t want his ego to get larger than it already was. You came to all his games, occasionally bringing a camera so that James could add his moments of glory onto his beloved room wall. There was the time he tried dedicating a shot to you and ended up getting knocked off his broom by a Beater. 

He made the next one thankfully. 

On the other hand, you had earned the title of master dueler amongst the third years for your quick arm and sharp spellcasting. While James was at Quidditch practice: you, Peter, Remus, and Sirius would practice in empty classrooms although after a while they became rather bored as you would always win. James would cheer you on, even when you beat him there was a compliment of your skill and he was more than anything, proud. 

The summer between third and fourth year was the year the Marauders got their first group picture together. Everyone had met up at the Potter residence, Euphemia Potter snapping the photo with Sirius and James to the left, Peter and Remus on the right, and you in the middle. James hung the picture on his wall as it was routine by now. The whole gang got to see his famous wall of pictures, his life an open storybook to anyone who looked closely. 

Fourth year sparked love, pranks, and new ideas. Peter went on his first date, flaming at the cheeks as his friends waved him off embarrassingly. Group pranks ensued upon Snape whose oily hair was dyed all colors of the rainbow by the end of the first semester. You had gone on your first date as well, Steven Goldstein from Hufflepuff whom James threatened to beat up and Sirius who gave him “a talk”. 

Most importantly, the group addressed Remus’s furry little problem seeing as each year he came back with more and more scars than before. Two ideas sparked up from the meeting and both were large feats that every member of the group was willing to take. 

“So wait..” Peter asked. “You want to make a map… that tracks everyone in Hogwarts?” 

James nodded and Remus shook his head. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t look at me that way, Remus.” 

Remus shoved him lightly. “How would that even work though? Isn’t it a little invasive?” 

You smiled. “It most certainly is invasive but think about how awesome it’d be to have something like that. All we would need is…” 

“A complex locator spell.” you and Sirius said together. 

Everyone grinned. “Pete can do the drawing and sketching. He’s good at that stuff. We should check for secret passageways. All of us could do the magic. We’ve got the brains.” 

“I don’t think someone with brilliant magic technique would use the word brain to describe their intelligence.” you point out. James simply flicked you in the head. 

“And there’s the Animagi thing…” Sirius added. 

“That’s a reach.” Remus replied. 

“More than the map?” Peter questioned. 

Remus sighed. “You guys don’t have to do that for me. I’ve been transforming on my own for years. No need to have buddies now.” 

“Nonsense.” you say. “Anything for you, Rem. This is what you deserve.” 

The friends looked at each other silently. “Are we ready to pull off the biggest student feat in Hogwarts history?” Sirius whispered. 

“Aye, aye.” Everyone cheered. 

Peter grinned. “We’re up to no good.” 

James smiled back. “Then let us manage our mischief well.” 

WIth that the group commenced, exiting the abandoned classroom they used and taking off to class. James walked by your side as you headed to astronomy together. 

“I can’t wait till we pin this down. It’s going to be an epic year.” he grinned. 

You chuckle. “I know you’ll end up stalking someone, Potter. Evans by the looks of it.” 

He shook his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Nope. I’m gonna stalk you instead. See if you’re hiding any secrets from me.” 

You smile. “What secrets could I possibly be hiding from you, my boy?” 

James nudged your side with a smirk. “You’re telling me a good-looking fellow like yourself isn’t sneaking off with some other lad other than their best friends.” 

You shook your head, the word “good-looking” repeating itself in your mind. “No. If I did I would tell you.” 

“Good.” he said, starting up the stairs to the Astronomy tower. “I don’t need some arsehole stealing you away from me.” 

You roll your eyes. “No one could ever steal me from you, James. I’m not a Quaffle.” 

He nods with a grin. “Yeah. I suppose you’re more of a Snitch.” 

You laugh, dashing up the stairs in hopes that you wouldn’t be late for your Astronomy lesson.

--- 

As one could guess more pictures and sketches made their home on James Potter’s wall. It was a cluttered mess but beautiful nonetheless. It was as though the wall had an expression of its own with its array of Quidditch jerseys, photographs, art, and ticket stubs. Nobody touched the wall except James as he liked having every picture in place. His wall organized the way he liked it best… messy. 

Fifth year was the first year you didn’t see James every week. He had eagerly signed up for Quidditch camp and had left for Wales with promises that’d you write about the boys and the progress on the map and Animagi projects. The projects went well with Peter completing the outline sketches of the maps, Remus filling piles of papers on Animagi transformations and finally Sirius and you gathering the needed ingredients for the Animagi process. 

You had grown taller over the summer, hair lightening and your features more accentuated. Eagerly you awaited James’s return and when the time did come you had woken up early in the morning to see him arrive by Portkey on the hill. The second he appeared you had rushed over, engulfing him in a hug. You had missed his touch, his constant nagging and overall  the James Potterness that followed him around that would never fade with time. 

Meanwhile, he was left out of breath, a couple of inches taller and a smile on his face as he squeezed you back. “Y/N/N! I missed you, you lazy hag.” 

You laughed, messing up his hair that sat more neatly than in previous years. “And I missed you, my boy.” 

The next days before school were spent catching him up on the map and at the pond by your house. With each swim you noticed the changes in James such as the six-pack the tedious trials at Quidditch camp had given him. 

“Oi!” you shouted, splashing him in the face. “Whatever happened to the skinny twig that was my friend?” 

He smirked. “Oi! Why are you looking?” 

You bit your lip, not allowing him to see you flustered. “I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and it’s a very noticeable change!” you pointed at his toned stomach. 

James tapped your nose and you stared at him in annoyance. “It’s only noticeable if you want to notice it.” 

He turned around, making to walk back to the shore of the pond. You didn’t remember when James had gotten so cheeky although he’d always been that way, just never with you. Wickedly, you took the bucket that floated beside you and dunked it in the water. With a mischievous grin, you snuck up behind him, dumping the bucket of water on his head. 

James turned around with a gasp, jaw dropped. You laughed, a wide smile on your lips at the sight of him drenched in his swim trunks. It wasn’t until his arms tucked along your waist, dragging you to the deeper ends of the pond did the smile drop and his return. 

“Why you little…” you seethed. “James Fleamont Potter if you-” 

It was too late by then, your body submerged in the water and you swam up, his laughter the first noticeable sound. You scowled as he doubled over with laughter on the shore. “I’m never letting you go to Quidditch camp again.” 

The two of you walked home as the sun set, many flicks to the forehead ensuing as you did. 

---

Fifth year was by far the most epic year of your Hogwarts experience. Everything was prepared for the Animagi transformation and phase two of the map project was ready to launch with Remus having gained access to the restricted section of the library. 

It seemed as though the whole student body had recognized the change in James’s physique which only led to an inflation of his ego. The worst part was that Lily Evans just so happened to be one of those said noticers and while her defiance toward him was still strong, she could be caught staring in class much to James’s delight. 

The Animagi process began as soon as the September full moon. While Remus suffered in the Shrieking Shack, the four other Marauders set their Mandrake leaves into their mouths preparing for an uncomfortable month of bitterness on their tongues. The leaves were held under their tongues when talking in class and for the rest of the time they resorted to note passing leaving the entirety of Hogwarts wondering why the Marauders went quiet so suddenly. 

During the period between moons, they worked on their map. Stacks of books, both regular and restricted, lay among them. Each had a quill and parchment used to take note of spells or pass messages back and forth. As you worked you received a message from James in the form of a crumpled ball of parchment. You smoothed it out with a sigh. 

I hate this thing. It tastes like piss and lime. 

You held back a chuckle, writing your own message next to his. 

You’re not backing out of this, Potter. It’s for Remus. 

He stuck the leaf under his tongue in order to stick it out at you and you rolled your eyes. He scribbled a message back. 

I know. I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it. 

You smirked, tossing the parchment back to him. 

If your scrawny arse can come back from Quidditch camp with abs then you can stomach keeping a leaf in your mouth for a month. 

He smoothed it out and you went back to your work only getting in a minute's reading before the parchment bounced off your head. You scowled at his antics but he only looked at his book with a smirk. Unfolding the paper, James’s messy handwriting took up the last blank space on the parchment. 

Nice to know you still think about my abs. 

Your stomach squirmed at the feeling that inflamed from his words and the smirk that was on his face. You flicked him on the head, throwing the parchment into the fire before Sirius could ask what it was. 

--- 

It took moon soaked leaves, untouched morning dew and a lightning storm to finally complete the transformations. It was on a late November night that a lightning storm finally struck and in the fifth corridor bathroom the Marauders made their first transformations. For Peter, a small rat with a wriggling tail. For Sirius, a pure black dog. For James, a large stag with mighty horns. For you, a sly fox with sleek orange fur. 

Thus that night began the use of the nicknames: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Vixen. Dubbed by James and agreed upon all around. The final full moons of fifth year were spent prancing around Hogsmeade alongside Remus whose scars diminished with each transformation spent with his friends. 

The downside of it all was the building tension in the school. With Lord Voldemort on the rise, more and more of your classmates were showing their true colors. Select Slytherins no longer wore short sleeves, their wrists always covered even in the heat of summer. Watchful eyes and protective glares, you went home for summer in worry. 

Over the summer, Prongs lost his Pronginess. He wrote to Lily Evans most days of the week and now the things she sent him hung on his wall alongside you and the Marauders. An anticipated change but a scary one still. Every outing with James became more about Lily and less about anything else. You could feel your best friend slipping away and you told him so the night before the start of sixth year. 

The two of you sat together in the branches of a tree. The sun hit your skin in rays and clouds passed by over your heads. James’s voice droned on about his darling Lily flower and with an unknowing malice you snapped at him. “Shut it!” you groaned. 

His eyes looked over at you, hands holding your head in remorse. “Aren’t you happy for me? You’ve been acting off all summer.” 

“I’ve been acting off because you’ve been acting off. I am happy for you but Evans is the only thing you talk about these days. What happened to talking about the Tornados or sneaking out together for milkshakes?” 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s different now.” 

“Well, it shouldn’t be.” you exclaim. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t grow up. I support the idea of you no longer being a cheeky bastard. If you’re happy with Evans then I am happy for you. But being with Evans doesn’t mean you have to forget about me or the Marauders or everything else.” 

James nodded, a leaf spinning between his fingers as he frowned. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N.” 

You shake your head. “I am too. Sorry I snapped at you, my boy.” your head fell onto his shoulder the same way it had done for years only this time things had changed. The weight still felt perfect on his shoulder but now his stomach turned and his breath hitched at the close proximity. Things were indeed changing although the two of you only danced around it, not wanting to address the mess you two had made. 

Your head was still against his shoulder as you spoke quietly. “Just remember you’re not a Quaffle.” 

He chuckled, stroking your hair affectionately. “I guess I’ll be the snitch then.” 

You smiled, swimming in the feel of the James Potter you knew so well. Later that night, the two of you snuck out like old times, sharing a chocolate milkshake and sending each other glances the whole way home. 

--- 

Sixth year was a rollercoaster. The map was finished, all the efforts poured out finally receiving an equally impressive outcome with the parchment branded with the names of the Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Vixen. Remus had his first kiss and Sirius decided on leaving home and James welcomed him with open arms. 

The other Marauders were not impartial to the changes in your and James’s behavior. The miniscule changes in his face when you napped on his lap or the flush of your skin when he rustled your hair. In all honesty, it was as though the two of you were finally waking up and seeing what they’d been seeing all along. However, your own defiance was strong and love wasn’t simple. James was still under the impression that his heart beat for Lily Evans and you flirted around your feelings as opposed to finally confronting them. 

When Gryffindor won the Quidditch season, you were the first one in James’s arms to congratulate him. He spun you around, a large grin on his face. “We won!” 

You smiled. “That you did, my boy. Celebration calls and are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Hmm? Let me guess… Firewhiskey?” 

“That’s my boy.” you cheer, linking your arm in his and dragging him off the field as Lily Evans watched the boy she had taken a chance on run off with someone else.

---

Firewhiskey made for a fine celebration and resulted in James and you collapsed on the floor of the Gryffindor common room at two in the morning. His glasses were crooked as he stared up at the ceiling and your hair fell in waves on the floorboards. 

“Blimey, I can’t believe we won.” James chuckled, his words slurring together slightly. 

“You deserve it, my boy.” you say, lightly punching his arm. “How are you feeling on this fine evening?” 

His cheeks went pink but a smile overtook his features making for a hilarious expression when he shouted out. “Randy!”  

You doubled over with laughter. “Gosh, James. I don’t need to hear about this.” you shove his grinning face with your palm. 

“What, you've never felt randy before?” he asked, a childlike expression on his face juxtaposing such an intrusive question. 

You hide your embarrassment behind a grin. “Yes, but I’m not going around telling you about it.” 

He tapped your nose with the tip of his finger and your stomach swirled. “And why not?” 

You turned over to your side. “I’m not sure best friends tell each other about being randy, Prongs.” 

James sighed. “I guess not. But how are you feeling, my little vixen?” 

With a swig of your drink and a grin you reply. “Randy.” 

The two of you erupt into fits of laughter. James pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it’s the whiskey then.” 

You stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I suppose so.” 

Both of you knew that wasn’t the case. You knew that despite the whiskey slowing the gears of your mind you still noticed James’s hand laying by your waist. You could still trace the outline of his chin and the bridge of his nose. James could still see the curve of your lips and the rise of your chest. Firewhiskey was most definitely not the cause of your randiness. 

But it was the easiest thing to blame. 

--- 

Your birthday came soon after with the Marauders celebrating in joy. Presents were exchanged with Remus giving you some books, Peter knitted (with the help of his mother) a pair of mittens for you and Sirius had gifted you a record to play on your stereo. 

But James had to be extravagant. It wasn’t everyday his best friend turned seventeen and he marked the occasion with something expensive yet meaningful. When you opened the small box inside had been a silver fox ring. It’s eyes sparkling gems that twinkled as if blinking. 

“James, I’m going to kill you.” you seethed. “This is way too expensive. I’m turning seventeen not fifty.” 

He laughed. “Oi, woman! It’s fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, only the best for you.” 

You stared at it once more before engulfing him in a hug. “It’s beautiful, my boy. Thank you.” 

His arms squeezed your waist, breathing you in and remembering the sweet smells of childhood and friendship rolled into one. His eyes closed and it was as if he had drifted off into a pleasant dream. “Of course, my little vixen.”

You made certain to flick his head after. 

He was starting to regret giving it to you already. 

---

Sixth year came to a close with an even more devastating end than the last. The war only continued to rage with Muggles being murdered miles away from the school, Muggle-borns driving into hiding. Sirius’s brother was slowly falling into line with the other Slytherins, devoting their hours to the torture of Muggleborns, Lord Voldemort and the likes. 

James left Hogwarts heart-broken when Lily Evans broke up with him on the last day of term. “Look around!” Lily had told him. “You’re blind, James. I’m not the person you want and it’d be clear if you’d stop and take a look.” 

He hadn’t known what she meant and the first week of summer was spent crying and eating ice cream on the sofa with you by his side. His room had become a mess and Lily’s letters no longer remained on the wall instead crumbled up in a ball in the trash. 

Euphemia Potter couldn’t dread to see her son in the dumps any longer and she made sure to tell him so one evening after you had left. 

“James, you need to get your life together, my love.” she whispered, rubbing her sons back reassuringly. 

His words came out muffled into her neck. “It’s hard.” 

“I know.” she soothed. “And I’m always going to be there for you.” 

“Promise?” he asked. 

“Promise.” she smiled. “Now how about you go clean your room. It’s become quite dirty.” 

He nodded, trudging to his room with a broom. Lily’s words repeated in his mind as he entered. “You’re blind, James. Look around!” But there was nothing to look for. All he saw was his wall and a soft smile came to his face as he approached it. The Tutshill Tornado banners clung loosely to the paint and drawings of Kneazles and landscapes and trees. Pictures of the Marauders and Gryffindor lions. 

And finally the ones of you. 

His fingers ran across the picture in the middle. Four-year old James grinning and you licking a lolly. His eyes moved to the next one, seven years old and flying together on a broomstick. A grin broke out on his face as he saw the one with your owl in Diagon Alley, his fingers flicking your forehead. James’s mind was on hyperdrive as he examined each picture, one common factor in almost all of them. 

You. 

You were in many of the photos, a smile adorned on your face. If you weren’t in the photos you were the one taking them, knowing how much he adored them. Any pictures that hung were sketched by your hands. Here was James Potter’s open story, the story of his life all plastered to the wall as though it was an empty canvas. Present in every moment, every aspect, had been you. You had been the start of his book, the picture of the two of you as tots still smacked in the middle of the wall. Yes, he realized. You had started his book and had remained in it for quite some time. 

Lily Evans must’ve noticed and maybe everyone else had too. 

James had been blind to the message that was sprawled across his wall. He had been the one writing it, maybe not knowingly but writing it out all the same. Everyone had seen it except the writer and his subject, the message painstakingly clear years prior to its conception. 

He quickly removed all the pictures from the wall, grabbing each one that hung and piling them up in his hand. The door swung open as he dashed out of his room yelling, “I’ve got to go, mum!” before running out the front door. The hills of green were illuminated by the night sky, the stars burned for James as he hopped over branches and boulders to get to you. 

Your house was in the distance, your figure standing a few feet away from the home. He called out to you, your eyes turned to meet his. When he reached you, he paused, catching his breath. 

“James, what on Earth are you doing here?” you laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder as he breathed. 

He stood up straight, panting as he held up a photo. “This is us when we were four. The first photo we ever took together.” 

You squinted at him. “Right?” 

He shuffled through the pictures, fingers tracing each one. “And this is from when we were seven. That one from when we were ten. You gave me this drawing when we were six because you loved Kneazles and wanted one as a pet. That drawing was from the first year when we went skipping stones at the Black Lake and you sketched me and Peter.” 

Your face melts slowly. “James, I don’t understand. You’ve had these for years.” 

He exhaled, his eyes lighting up. “That’s the thing. I never saw it till now but Lily said I was blind and that she wasn’t the person I wanted.” You nod, wiping the sweat from his forehead with your sleeve and he grinned. “See that right there. That’s what I want.” 

The night air bit at your spine. “You want me to wipe the sweat from your forehead?” 

He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Not exactly. I want you to wipe the sweat from my forehead for the next year and the next ten and then the next fifty. You’ve been doing it for years already and the thing is… I don’t think I want anyone else doing it for me.” 

You blinked as he came closer, his palms cradling your cheek as you gazed into his eyes. “You’ve been in my life for as long as I could remember and I want you to stay in it for as long as I live. You told me once to not throw around the l-word and I said…” 

“But I’ve known you my whole life.” you mutter. 

“I think I’ve loved you for a while. I just didn’t know it yet.” 

You shook your head as the wind rustled the branches, the windchime on your porch creating soft melodies. A large grin spread across your lips yet you continued to shake your head. “There’s a war, James.” 

He smiled. “Only more the reason to be with me.” 

“But I’ve been with you my whole life.” you tease. 

“Oh, shut up!” he chuckles, before leaning down to capture your lips. At that moment everything made sense. All the pieces of the puzzle sifted into place and the stars applauded you from the sky and the night gale created a ruckus at your shed blindfold. 

“Be my Snitch?” he asked. 

You rolled your eyes, “That’s the cringiest thing you’ve ever said, my boy.” 

He smirked. “Oh, but you love it.” 

“Perhaps I do.” you replied, flicking his forehead for good measure. 

---

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[startanewdream]

Chasing Dreams

Summary: When Ginny Potter is having doubts about her pregnancy, her father-in-law shows up to give her some help, flying time and, of course, present his suggestion of baby names.

Read on AO3 or below:

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The wind blows in her face and Ginny closes her eyes, happily, enjoying the feelings that only the breeze over fifty feet in the air can bring. It's been a while since she has felt that breeze, considering the doctor warned to…

Doctor? 

She opens her eyes, confused, but she can't remember anything specific. In fact, she doesn't even remember exactly how she got there - she knows she is on her Firebolt, well above ground, in a Quidditch field that looks like the one in Hogwarts; there is a mist around the field, but she thinks she can see the edges of the castle. It's been years since she played there. Perhaps she had a contusion? She can't recall, but still, it would take more than a Bludger to stop her from playing Quidditch.

'First season in the Holyhead Harpies, third match, right?', asks a voice close to her and she turns to see Harry slightly below her, also on a broom, his face turned away from her.  She thinks there is something strange with his voice. 'That's the game a Bludger broke your foot after fifteen minutes of play and you refused to leave the game'.

Ginny nods, laughing at the memory.

'I told Gwenog that I needed my arms to play Chaser and they were working perfectly fine'.

'And Harry didn't know if he should be mad at you or kiss you'. There is a playfully chuckle. 'Guess we know which won in the end'.

'Harry…?'

The man turns to her, and now Ginny can see it's not Harry. He looks remarkable like Harry though, but the man with her has more lines in his face, his black hair is starting to recede, his nose is longer, and his eyes are completely different. Hazel eyes that shine with more mischief than she ever saw on Harry.

For a moment, Ginny is troubled, feeling like there is something wrong there; then she relaxes, as some part of her mind recognises him.

'I hope you are not listening to gossip, Mr. Potter', she says, grinning at James Potter with the feeling they are sharing a long-lost joke.

'You mean that article of the Witch Weekly saying how you and Harry like to shag on changing rooms, Mrs. Potter? Because I would never read that kind of gossip'.

'As if', Ginny scoffs lightly. 'Everyone knows you and Sirius are the worst tattletales ever, Mr. Potter'.

He laughs in agreement.

Ginny can't remember when that started, but she knows calling him formally is supposed to be a joke between them. Like he was annoyed when she first called him Mr. Potter ('It's James, Ginny, Mr. Potter was my old dad') until she started dating Harry, and then he'd started calling her Mrs. Potter long before they even began thinking about taking that step.

Ginny doesn't remember exactly - a lot of things seem mussed in her head -, but she thinks of a hug on her wedding day, hearing James Potter telling her she was already a Potter even before the wedding vows.

She thinks she might have dropped a tear back then, though the exact memory evades her.

'Well, you and Harry are our favourite celebrity couple', assures James. 'But I promise I give you privacy always - no matter where you are, though I must note that Weekly Witch tends to be right once in a while'.

Ginny feels warmth through her body that has nothing to do with the bright summer day - is it summer? She thought they were in February… -, as her mind perfectly recalls the aftermath of last year’s final match of the Quidditch league, when she and Harry had postponed the victory party in favour of him helping her ease all the tension from the match…

James coughs, as if to draw her attention, and Ginny blushes, trying to think desperately of something that could back away the memories of being with Harry in the shower and how his mouth -

'Quidditch!', James cries suddenly, drawing her attention. 'How about one-sided Quidditch? We can bet who scores the most'.

Ginny is about to say they have no Quaffle to play when she notices the ball in her hand. She doesn't remember taking the ball - and there is a nagging feeling she shouldn't be playing…

'Ginny?', calls James, and when she looks at him, he is smiling gently. 'It's okay, you can play now'.

His tone is reassuring, and she lets herself believe in his words. Besides, though she can't recall the reason, she feels like she misses flying; this should be silly - ever since she left school, all she’s been doing is playing Quidditch professionally, though in the last months…

The thought eludes her again.

Thinking no more of it, she throws him the Quaffle and goes to the hoops. Ginny was never a very good as Keeper - she can play Seeker very well and she loves chasing, of course -, but she can defend somewhat; most of the time, she just watches James Potter flying, dodging some Bludgers that come out of nowhere, and she thinks he flies really well, like if he really trained for it, instead of being more natural like Harry; his moves are perfectly executed, like a professional dancer.

He manages to score a few goals before she finally gets his ticks. James likes to show himself off; even when he has a clean shot, he likes to do manoeuvres that almost make him break his neck, before throwing the Quaffle.

'Oh, you got me', James admits in a defeated voice after she makes the fifth consecutively defence. 'Lily warned me that flaunting would only lead to me embarrassing myself'.

'You are good', Ginny assures him hurriedly, but James just shakes his head, undisturbed.

'I used to be, but I'm rusty. Well, fair is fair. Let's switch positions. Don't be afraid to put your father-in-law to shame, huh?'

Ginny grins. She flies to the middle of the field and as soon as he throws her the Quaffle she begins.

Her style is almost close to his, she realizes; they've both been trained. But Ginny is a top Chaser and there is a reason she holds the scoring-record from the Quidditch League, so after twenty minutes, James refuses to give her back the Quaffle after she scores another goal.

'I think that's enough', he says. 'Sirius won't stop laughing when he hears I barely managed one save that was luckier than any talent on my part'.

'We can keep it a secret', Ginny promises, and she thinks once more this is one of the things she and James Potter share.

How she never tells when she catches him eating the last piece of cake that Lily saved for herself, and how he never tells her mom the time she managed to be drunk at the Potter's New Year's Eve Party.

She can't specify in which year that happened, but it seems like something that could have happened - then it means it did happen, right?

‘You are really excellent’, James says, flying closer. ‘I’d seen you already, but playing with you…’’

Ginny frowns, not knowing how to answer. His comment seems off; of course, they’ve played before, in one of the many times she had dinner over the Potter’s and Harry convinced them to a family Quidditch game on cool nights. They all would play, her brothers against James and Sirius, teasing them for their old age to which they’d answer that they had more experience, while Lily would laugh, acting as a referee and asking them to avoid faults for once.

That had happened, she can’t have imagined it…

‘You remind me of myself, you know’, James adds, distracting her. ‘We both have been flying since we were young, and I’ve broken more than once through my parent’s broom shed’.

‘I thought your dad was the one who taught you how to fly’.

‘He did, but he and my mom were a bit protective. You know, I was their only son… They wanted me to fly safely, and it took them a while to see that if they didn’t want me to do something, then -’

‘Then they shouldn’t forbid you’, Ginny concludes for him, smiling knowingly. ‘Yeah, half the reason I wanted to fly so much was that my mom said I was too young and my brothers refused to let me play’.

‘See? We were both rulebreakers’. He winks at her. ‘Between you and me, that’s what attracted Lily and Harry to us’.

She raises her eyebrows.

‘Harry broke more rules than I ever did’.

‘Says the girl who once broke the headmaster’s office to steal a sword’, remembers James fondly. ‘Still, they both like to break some rules now and then, but their passion is not on it. That’s why we are so good to them. We encourage this side of them’.

‘You approve us. I mean, me and Harry, together’.

Ginny doesn’t know why this information is important to her; it should be something that she already knew, but still a part of her feels warm at the thought. It’s like if she had always wondered if James and Lily would like her, would approve her relationship with Harry, would cheer them...

He throws her a funny look.

‘Of course I do. I mean, for a while I thought Harry was totally going to miss you, and Lily had to forbid me of doing anything - I was just going to nudge him in the right direction, come on -, but things turned out perfectly, didn’t they? You should see me when you first kissed - I was practically waving little flags written “H&G” in a heart…’

His voice suddenly stops, and James blinks as if he realizes he is oversharing. Ginny’s smile, which first came out when he was telling his reaction, dies slowly as she registers what he is saying.

It’s wrong, somehow. James Potter couldn’t be there.

Harry first kissed her in the Gryffindor Common Room, after the Quidditch game and he was alone because he’d been in detention with Snape - Snape who had always disliked Harry, even though he’d protected Harry all in the name of a long-lost love…

A love that had died with her husband years ago.

Ginny blinks and then she chokes as if the air is not enough to breathe, as if she is underwater instead of flying well above ground. With a sigh, James pushes her towards one of the stands and she barely notes he’s helping her to sit.

She breathes slowly before returning to look at James Potter. He looks younger now somehow, younger than her even, barely in his twenties.

And he looks worried at her, which she thinks is kind of ironic considering he’s been dead for the last twenty-four years.

Oh, goodness, he is dead. And if she is seeing him… She remembers Harry telling her, so many years ago, how he died once, how he saw Dumbledore then...

‘You are fine’, James assures her, looking at her as if he knows exactly what’s on her mind. ‘You’re sleeping on the couch of your house right now’.

She nods, still dumbfound, and her hand falls to her lap. Her flat lap.

Now panic crushes over her, more than before when she thought she was dead, and she remembers exactly why the doctor told her she shouldn’t fly anymore, why she hadn’t played Quidditch in the last six months…

‘Your baby is fine too’, adds James. There is a thoughtful smile on his face. ‘This is just a dream, Ginny’.

Relief floods over her, even though she can’t help but think it’s strange not feeling her swollen belly or being able to see her feet.

Now that there is no problem - that her baby is safe - she looks around curiously. As if the mist of early had suddenly vanished, she can see the Hogwarts castle in the distance.

‘I never really played anywhere else’, says James fondly, looking in the same direction. ‘All my Quidditch career was here in Hogwarts, that’s why you are dreaming of here’. He sighs. ‘People always told me I should’ve played professionally’.

Ginny remembers hearing Sirius and Remus describing James, a long time ago, on quiet nights in Grimmauld Place.

‘Sirius always told me how good you were, Mr. -’, his eyes catch hers and she grins. ‘James’.

‘I enjoyed showing off too much. Here in Hogwarts it may have worked, but it’s a cooperative game, I would have sucked playing it in a real league’.

‘I don’t know’, says Ginny slowly. ‘What I like chasing, more than seeking, is teamwork, knowing the other players and working together as one. And for all I’ve heard, you were very good at making people trust you and trusting back’.

‘With one exception’, he murmurs and there is a shadow on his face. ‘Well, I never had the opportunity nor the interest. But who knows what might have happened?’

Ginny feels the same shadow in her heart. She doesn’t know what James Potter would have done with his life, but there are other things she knows – how he’d watch every game that Harry played, how he’d be his son’s most passionate fan, how he’d give his grandchildren their first broomstick.

This thought makes her sad and she feels tears coming to her eyes, as easily as during the first trimester of her pregnancy, when everything made her cry.

‘Oh, no, no’, James says hurriedly, looking at her worriedly. ‘This dream is not supposed to upset you. I thought I could distract you’.

‘Sorry, it’s just - I wish you had played Quidditch instead of being in a war…’

‘I’ve fought in a war so Harry and you and all your generation could be free to do whatever you want. And if it meant I’d die for it, I’d do it again without thinking’. He smiles assuringly. ‘That’s what being a parent means, Ginny. Doing anything for your child’.

She bits her lips and looks at James Potter’s eyes. Even though the colour is very different from Harry’s, she thinks there is the same comfort there, the same patience and the belief that things will turn out fine somehow if you just never give up.

‘I don’t know how to be a mother’, she admits, whispering something that she hadn’t dared say out loud because she never thinks anyone could understand her. Her mother had seven children, Hermione doesn’t think of kids yet and Harry…

Harry is even more worried about himself as a parent than her, and all things considered, she doesn’t want to burden him with her worries.

‘No one does because there is not a formula’. He chuckles lightly. ‘Me and Lily - I don’t know who was more in panic. We were young, we never had even discussed kids, the war was at its peak… But we managed. You will too, and you won’t be alone. That makes all the difference. Sirius, Remus and -’, he hesitates briefly, ‘- Peter didn’t know how to change diapers any better than we, but having them there, having a family… That’s what you need and that’s what you already have’.

‘It’s just not this. I can learn all these things and Harry is there to help but… I worry about me’. She avoids his eyes. ‘I know it’s incredibly selfish, but I don’t know what I will do with a kid, it changes everything, and I’m scared… Not very Gryffindor of me, I know’.

‘The thing I’ve learnt is that being a Gryffindor has less to do with never being afraid and more with never letting fear control you. And from what I’ve seen of you, Ginny, you never let anything control you’.

She nods, in silence. Not being controlled is something she is adamant about ever since she was eleven.

‘You get the right to be scared for you. Of course you do. You don’t stop being you when you become a mother. And you are twenty-three. You still have time to figure it out’. He gestures to the field. ‘If you want to go back, you can. If you want to lay down and retire, you can too. Like you once said, everything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve – and you have that more than most’.

She lets the words – her words – fill her, trusting in them.

‘I - thank you, James’.

‘No problem’, he says dismissively. ‘That’s me, calming future parents���.

‘What?’

‘Nothing’. He presses his lips for a few seconds. ‘That is why you are dreaming now, you know? I saw how worried you were, and I thought maybe we could talk a little. It’s always good to chat with your favourite daughter-in-law’.

‘Am I not the only one?’

‘Still my favourite’, he promises, and Ginny believes in him.

She glances at him. Now James is playing with a Golden Snitch that has just appeared, almost absently, seeming to just enjoy the wind that messes with his hair.

Now she knows she’s dreaming, these things seem to make less sense than before, but still she knows – even though no one told her before – that, like her, James always felt better flying than walking on the ground. If she closes his eyes, she can imagine being with Harry in the living room of the Potter’s house, listening to James recounting his best Quidditch matches, laughing of how he exaggerates in his stories until Lily teases him with the description of what really happened.

(‘I wasn’t knocked by the Bludger, Lily, it was just a scratch’) (‘James, you stayed on the Hospital Wing for three days) (‘Only because you were there watching over me, I could have left the first day, but you were so worried that I let you care for me’) (‘You prat, I was worrying madly over you’) (‘That’s because you were already madly in love with me’) (‘Merlin, could you two find a room to ourselves? You are embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend’)

Ginny blinks, disorientated. These memories can’t be real, but somehow she can almost feel the heat from the fireplace, the softness of the couch as if she and Harry were sitting there now. She can hear their laughter echoing in the room.

‘I know’, James says quietly and sadly. ‘It would be amazing if it had happened, wouldn’t it?’

‘How –‘

‘I think you are just one of those people with the power of imagining. Seeing what it could have been’. He sighs, looking beyond her. ‘It’s good, but it’s also dangerous’.

‘It doesn’t do to dwell on dreams and forget to live’, she recites, thinking of Harry telling her this a long time ago.

‘Dumbledore always had the best phrases. It’s a good advice’. He smiles. ‘Still, Ginny, if there is one thing you could really remember from this dream… Talk to Harry. About your worries. He will listen and support you’. He sighs. ‘Almost ten years and that kid is still deeply in love with you, you know?’

‘I do’, says Ginny calmly.

Their love is one of the things that always keeps her going. Harry encourages her as much as he encourages him, and she doesn’t know how she’d deal with their unplanned and unexpected pregnancy if it wasn’t for him. 

‘Well, it’s obvious by now, but I always supported you. I told Lily ever since you first defended him that you would be together’. He grins. ‘It earned me five sickles’.

Ginny doesn’t know what money is good for someone who is not alive, but she is tactful not to say anything.

‘So Lily didn’t support me?’, she asks instead, rather worriedly.

James blinks.

‘What? No, of course she did. But she bet you’d be together only in his Seventh Year, and I bet Sixth. Harry was much better than me, he couldn’t take that much time…’

‘He took long enough’, Ginny says playfully. This brings another sad smile to his face.

‘Well, he was slow considering -’

‘He was too busy saving the wizarding world, yes’.

‘I saw you two, you know’. He rolls his eyes. ‘Well, not when you took your strolls in the grounds and certainly not in all those detours to broom cupboards, but when you were sitting together in the Common Room, just side by side, holding hands, hugging. This is something Harry never had enough of in his life. Physical contact. If I could give you any advice… Hug your kid. Let him always know he’s loved and cherished’.

‘I will’, she promises. ‘Harry too’.

James nods, then he raises.

‘I think our time is almost up. How about a last flight around the pitch? I know you miss flying’.

‘Oh, I do’. She grabs her broom, but before she mounts it, she turns to him. ‘Huh, James? I know that Harry would probably say something like this is real as long as I think it is… But just between us, is this real?’

‘Harry is usually right about these things’, he says cryptically, winking at her.

‘So if it’s real… no offense, but why seeing me, not Harry?’

‘It was you who needed some comfort and Harry already knows I am always with him. Plus, I couldn’t help but think…’

He hesitates, looking sheepishly at her.

‘I just noticed - like I said, I watch sometimes and - I know you know it’s a boy - I noticed that you and Harry never discussed names - so if it’s up for suggestion -’

‘James’, she stops him, smiling. ‘Harry and I never discussed it because there was never a question. Our baby will be called James, there wasn’t ever doubt about it’.

‘Oh’.

James’ grin is infectious, like watching the sun burning, and Ginny is reminded of how brightly Harry smiled when she told him he was going to be a father.

She’d always listened to people saying how Harry looks like his father, but this is the first time she really sees it. It’s more than the physical appearance.

She wishes Harry were with her in this dream.

‘I was just worried, you know’, James says after a minute, with barely contained satisfaction. ‘If you would think of naming him Elvendork - even though it’s unisex, always good - or after Severus Snape, imagine that’.

‘James Severus would sound catastrophic’, Ginny grins at the horror in his face. ‘But I’m more inclined to James Sirius. Much more explosive and -’

‘Marauder’, completes James, smiling. ‘That kid will be lucky to have you as his parents’.

‘Thank you, James. Not only for your confidence in us, but for… well, everything’.

‘It’s me who has to thank you. You gave Harry a family. That’s the only thing I ever wished for him’.

He mounts his broom.

‘Shall we?’

She laughs, delighted, and joins him for a last flight in the field.

[alienatedchic]

Know them

Sirius Black. Black. The name was enough to make witches and wizards bow their heads before him. Why not? He was a Black! The Black family is the most ancient and purest blood family in the Wizarding world; they were one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They were most respected and honored in the society and had highest status. Their wealth was unlimited; generations could stay unemployed and yet will have enough money for luxuries. Sirius was raised to feel proud for who he is, his family and his name. His dear mother, Walburga Black, was always there to remind him and his younger brother, Regulus, of how pure they were, how handsome and perfect they were, how much worthier and better they were than half-bloods and muggle-borns (“scums and mudbloods” in her wording). However Sirius never bought any of this. Deep down, Sirius was always curious about muggles and why blood purity mattered so much. And if he ever mistakenly thought of it loudly, he would receive another deep cut on his small back. He and his brother was taught only about blood status and how important it was for them to keep it safe and pure as they were the only male Blacks born in their generation.

Being a rebellious kid, Sirius decided to break generations of Black tradition by getting sorted to different house but Slytherin when he received his Hogwarts acceptance letter. Though he allowed his mother to coo at what a handsome Slytherin he’ll be and that green and silver matched so well with him, Sirius in his mind had no intention of being a part of his family’s tradition or beliefs.

 James Potter. Another rebellious pure-blood of the generation with wealth and fame- his father had invented the internationally famous hair potion. As James came very late in his parents’ lives and was also the only child, the amount of love he received was limitless. He grew up in a big house with big yard and no scarcity to materials. Thus he grew up to become arrogant and egoistic as his parents never made him feel down or unimportant. Yet, he was the most generous and protective of his loved ones without much to his notice.

No one was as excited about receiving the Hogwrtas letter as James was. He was going to learn magic! Most importantly, he was going to have his own Quidditch team to play with! After getting attacked with kisses from his mother and hugs from his father, James hurried off into the Hogwarts Express and looked for an empty compartment. Finally, he found one, except it wasn’t empty. A girl with dark red hair was sitting beside the window, her head pressed against the window sill.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

“No”

She didn’t turn to look at him; her eyes were fixed outside of the window and on the station where families were still waving off to their kids and shouting last reminders. James heaved his trunk into the compartment and slid the door shut-waiting for the train to start. Within a minute, the compartment door slid open and a tall, dark haired boy poked his head in, scanned the compartment and his eyes landed on James’s

“Uh…other compartments are full…can I sit here…?”

“Yes.”

“Sure.”

The red haired girl (without turning her head to look) and James replied at once. Both James and the black haired boy stared at the girl. Shrugging, James gestured the boy to enter and helped him with the trunk.

“I’m James. James Potter.”

“I’m Sirius Black,” said Sirius, a little taken aback at how normal James was when he said his name-he just smiled and nodded.

Within a minute, James and Sirius started taking interest in each other. They talked about Quidditch and other random topics as the train started to move. The red-haired girl, finally, tore her eyes away from the window and leaned her head on the head of the couch, sighing.

A moment later, Severus hurried out of his compartment to look for Lily. Where was she? He looked into almost every compartment until he finally found her sitting beside a window, her eyes closed. “There you are!” He sat in front of her and grinned at her but she didn’t return the smile; she turned away.

Severus Snape was never taken care of and received little or any affection. His life at home was filled with constant arguments of his parents as he lay forgotten on the corner of his small house, praying desperately for another family. Severus would forget about his trouble and abuse at home whenever he would have the chance to stay with Lily Evans, a pretty red-haired girl from the muggle town, who, thankfully, showed signs of magic. They built quite a very strong bond and became best friends within weeks. Severus filled Lily with all the information he knew about Hogwarts and the Wizarding World while Lily marveled and waited longingly for her Hogwarts acceptance letter.

As their friendship grew stronger, Severus’s dislike towards Lily’s sister, Petunia Evans, also grew deeper. Petunia also had no liking toward Severus so she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to discourage Lily to not talk to “the boy from Spinner’s End”. However, Lily refused to listen to her, “So what if he’s from the Spinner’s End? What if he’s poor and has ugly clothes? He didn’t get to choose his life, you know.” Severus couldn’t help but melt at how sweet and kind this muggleborn girl was.

Lily Evans was a bright, small and cheery girl with thick, dark red hair. She was a lovely daughter to her parents and an amazing friend to her elder sister, Petunia. Petunia and Lily shared a very stable and strong friendship; they would share their silly secrets, treats and help eachother to steal their mother’s make up. While Lily was playful and a bit clumsy, Petunia was a well kept girl and liked to stick to the rules. Nevertheless, this didn’t stop them from being the most dynamic duo. Petunia always cared for her sister and, even though she would complain it wasn’t right to do, would help Lily pull pranks and jokes. They were best friends!

Until he came. . .

Until he became more interesting than Petunia because he was just as ‘magical’ as Lily. . .

Until the letter came. . .

Until Lily was labeled as the ‘special’ one. . .

Until Petunia called Lily a “Freak!”

No words could express the sorrow Lily felt in her small, young heart. No one knew how horrible Lily felt when the word, “Freak” left Petunia’s lips. I’m not a freak! Tears gushed from Lily’s eyes and ran down her cheeks as she bit her lower lip. She turned around when she saw a messy, black haired boy draw near her compartment. Another boy also entered the compartment later but she didn’t turn to look at them-she couldn’t let them see her red, puffy eyes.

“There you are!”

A wave of frustration rushed through Lily when she heard the familiar voice as the compartment door slid open for the third time.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Why not?”

“Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.”

“So what?”

“So she’s my sister!”

She couldn’t believe it. You don’t care about my relationship with my sister!?

The other boys took no notice in Lily and Severus until the latter mentioned Slytherin.

“Slytherin? Who wants to be in Slytherin?”

James was in shock. People really want to be in Slytherin? How nasty!  

“ ‘Gryffindore, where dwell the brave at heart.’ Like my dad,” James replied when Sirius asked which house he preferred.

Severus snickered at him.

“Got a problem with that?” James asked, coldly.

“No. If you’d rather be brawny than brainy-

Brawny or brainy? I can be both. I will be both. I’ll prove it, you little-

Before James could reply, Sirius spat, “Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?”

James roared with laughter.

Lily was shocked at how Severus mocked the two strangers and how they talked back! She took Severus’s hand and left the compartment, disgusted at the two boys, who called him “Snivellus”. How rude. Really, I thought magical people would at least know some manners!

Beside this compartment was another compartment filled with a different group of first year students. Amongst them was a small, mousy haired boy, sitting beside the window. His face was hidden behind a large book. There were deep cuts on his face and scratches on his skinny forearms.

“Hi, I’m Peter Pettigrew,” said a round, watery-eyed boy to him.

Looking from the top of his book, the mousy haired boy muttered, “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” the compartment door slid open and the trolley women came in. At the sight of the lady, Remus dropped his book and shot up.

“Me.”

Peter’s mouth fell open as he got to see Remus’s face clearly for the first time.

“Oh, it’s just a bad accident,” Remus said, waving a careless hand when he realized Peter staring at his scars.

Was it really a ‘bad accident’?

Remus Lupin was attacked by a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback when he was only five years old. Fenrir attacked Remus to take revenge on Lyall Lupin, Remus’s father. Lyall Lupin was working against werewolves and believed that werewolves did not deserve living in the world. Little Remus had to suffer for his father’s mistakes. He couldn’t understand why his parents moved to an isolated place to live, why his parents forbade him to befriend anyone, why he would once a month wake up naked in their warehouse, why his body ached all over, why his small, skinny body had innumerable cuts or how and why his fragile bones crack into a vicious monster, every month.

Until Remus was seven year old, when he was fully able to read and write. He would read anything and everything he found. He was so smart for his age that big volumes of books were a piece of cake for him. That is when Remus learned about his lycanthropy.

“Mum. . .wh-what am I?”

The words crushed Mrs Lupin’s heart. She couldn’t look at her son-her beautiful, smart, innocent son. She dropped whatever was in her hands and ran over to her son and hugged him tight. Oh no. She could feel her son’s bones crushing under her arms.

“Wh-what d-do you mean?” Mrs Lupin muttered.

“Mum, am I a monster? Am I bad?”

NO, love, no! You’re my son, not a monster! Mrs Lupin wanted to shout it to her son but she felt she lost her voice. Her boy was facing a crucial reality not even adults deserve to. He’s just a boy!

“N-n-no, son. Remus, my sweet boy, you’re the best boy I’ve ever met. You can NEVER be bad.”

“Then I’m a monster? I. . .I know I am, mum. . .”

Sitting across the kitchen table was Mr Lupin, hiding his face behind the newspaper as silent tears fell from his eyes. He couldn’t take it anymore. His boy was suffering the worst punishment. . .

From then on, Remus started building the worst inferiority complex by isolating himself, even from his parents. He would preoccupy himself with books and lock himself up in his room. Before every full moon, he would go to their warehouse alone and return once the full moon was over. Remus Lupin was small, fragile and innocent but his world was harsh and old.

 After buying almost all the chocolate frogs from the trolley lady, Remus settled himself in his sit and started unwrapping chocolates. Peter, meanwhile, bought packs of Every flavoured beans and cauldron cakes. Remus and Peter started trading chocolates and cakes as Remus took interest in the quiet, shy boy. Their conversations wouldn’t last long for Remus wasn’t the best at socializing and Peter would get nervous for talking too long and would busy himself to finish his cakes.

Peter Pettigrew would always chew on his fingernails and bite his lips. When he was young boy, he showed signs of magic very late than average. His family almost counted him as a Squib so they would try and force magic out of him. Though Peter did prove himself to be a wizard, his family’s mocking of him being slow made him to actually believe he was stupid and that Hogwarts would never accept a half-squib like him. However, fortunately, he did receive the acceptance letter which, though delighted his family, didn’t help Peter gain any confidence in himself.