On Top of The World
“Thank you, New York! You have been brilliant tonight!” Sirius Black flashed a smile at his fellow lead vocalist, James Potter as a crowd of 200,000 screamed around them. He felt the familiar adrenaline of a great show coursing through his veins as he took his bows along with the rest of his band before heading down towards the stairs. He turned back to give the crowd one last wave before heading out with the rest of the band.
“Another great show, boys. How’s it feel?” Minerva McGonagall, the band’s manager asked with a smile on her face. Minerva, or Minnie, as she was more affectionately known, had been the band’s manager and caretaker from when she had seen them performing in a Los Angeles bar, on a trip to the country in ‘92. Despite her tough exterior, she had grown to love this unruly bunch of boys.
“Brilliant, Minnie, just amazing.” Replied James, brushing his hand through his moppy brown hair. “It’s still a little overwhelming how many people are out there to see us, even after all this time. Ugh, Moony, be an angel and pass me a drink, will you?” Remus ‘Moony’ Lupin reached into the cooler and tossed a can at James, who made a dramatic show of lunging forward to catch it, letting out a holler when it hit his palm. Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius laughed uproariously, halfway through his own drink.
Sirius and James had been friends for years, ever since they met in the second grade – the two became close as brothers, and had been together through every up and down. James’s house had become a refuge for Sirius to flee to whenever he needed an escape from his tumultuous home life. No one fully knew the extent of what happened between Sirius and his family, only that the wealthy, snobbish House of Black had been unhappy with certain life choices that Sirius had chosen to make – at least, that was what the official press release from the office of Orion Black had said – and had proceeded to disinherit him from the family fortune. The rest of the Marauders didn’t know exactly what happened- just that one day, a bruised and bloody Sirius showed up at James’ house, refusing to go to the hospital or the police and looking for a place to stay- and they knew better than to ask. One surprising outcome of this very public disinheritance was that it brought much needed attention to the band. People who initially came to their shows only to catch a glimpse of the black sheep of the House of Blacks, ended up staying for the music. The band continued to attract more and more eyeballs, eventually getting to the point where they were able to sell out Madison Square Garden.
“That might have been the best show we’ve ever had, don’t you think? The crowd was positively electric.” Peter Pettigrew, the band’s lead guitarist chimed in from the corner of the room. Peter had gone to school with the rest of the boys – he had joined the same year as Remus – and had become close friends with him, bonding over their shared love for Jimi Hendrix. It was through Remus that he befriended James and Sirius, who would usually have not paid attention to the quiet, slightly dull boy in the corner, if not for Remus’s persuasion. Peter had never had any real friends before, and to be so easily accepted by some of the coolest kids in his year would never stop being thrilling. The fame and the fans that came with it were exciting, however, he still was eternally worried that one day, the other three would forget about him and his whole world would collapse. Peter had never been particularly loved or accepted- his parents had split when he was young, leaving him with no money and the rest of his siblings to look after. He had been abandoned by everyone who was supposed to care for him, and was sure that one day, it would happen again.
The band’s lead keyboardist, Remus Lupin, affectionately known as Moony, nodded in agreement with Peter. Remus had earned the nickname of Moony after a drunk Sirius, who was surprisingly fluent in Latin, of all things, had pointed out that the fact that Remus’s name essentially meant Wolf Wolf, and his trouble to sleep clearly meant that he was a werewolf in hiding, and had spent the rest of the night cross with Remus for not trusting him enough to share this information. The incident was one the rest of the band would not stop gleefully bringing up at every occasion, much to Remus’s annoyance and Sirius’s general embarrassment, and had led to the nickname sticking.
Remus had grown up a sickly child in a struggling household. His mother, Hope, had quit her job to look after him while his father worked three jobs to meet ends meet. Remus had been home schooled most of his life, until the fifth grade, when he was deemed healthy enough to attend actual school. There he had met Peter, Sirius and James – and the rest was history.
“Boys, I’ve got something exciting lined up for the next few months, while you work on the album.” The Marauder’s producer, Filius Flitwick, who had driven out to watch the show, said as he walked into the room. “Do you know Marlene McKinnon?”
“The blonde singer?” Asked James. “She’s hot.”
“The bestselling, record breaking, blonde singer, yes.” Said Filius. “She’s agreed to collaborate on the new album.”
“That’s incredible!” said Remus excitedly. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“She’ll be joining us in the studio in a month, when work on the new album begins. I want you boys to be on your best behavior. You especially.” Filius continued, pointing at James.
“Me? When am I not the perfect gentleman, Filius?” Replied James, widening his eyes in a show of innocence that fooled absolutely no one in the room. James Potter was a frequenter of the front page of The Prophet, the most widely read tabloid in all of the country and harbored a notorious reputation for his numerous dalliances with several gorgeous women. However, behind all that, he was the glue of the group. His cheerful, friendly personality had instantly attracted the other three boys, who would never have become as close if not for James. His arrogance and tendency to peacock was occasionally annoying, but the band had learned to take it in their stride. It was this particular trait of his, that had earned him the nickname of Prongs.
Flitwick rolled his eyes at James, working with the man for the past five years had taught him not to take the bait. “Do not make me answer that, Potter. Anyway, the show went great, and I think Dorcas has some final announcements. Dorcas? Do you maybe want to take the stage?”
Dorcas Meadows, the band’s publicist cleared her throat. “Yes, thank you Filius, I do have one final announcement. Once we are all back in the studio from the break, a journalist from The Quibbler will be shadowing you for a few weeks, to write a story for the magazine.”
“Cool. Is it anyone well known?” Asked Peter.
“No, I think she’s one of their newer writers. Someone by the name of Lily Evans.”
James spit out his drink.