prologue
{A prologue from the eyes of James Potter}
Quidditch.
Everything can always be compared to it - even the deep things like how people’s lives and the society they live in work around each other in a variety of odd combinations consisting of love and hate.
It all relentlessly throws the unexpected at you. Life - not quidditch.
Well, quidditch too, you never know what your opponents are going to throw at you, which tactics, which skills, which manoeuvres and usually which ways they're going to attempt to cheat to try and outsmart you, to get more points than you. Too bad that I can't be outsmarted, especially when it comes to quidditch.
But that's not the point right now.
I mean, just imagine you're a Quidditch hoop, and the quaffles - the things you need to dodge and keep under control - are the adversities that come your way. The chasers… hmmm…I don't know. I guess they can be whoever is in charge of life. Maybe it's Death, each quaffle a new way to try and kill you.
The keepers would be the things that kept you alive and stop the quaffles from bringing about your downfall. The things that make life worth living. The people I love and cherish, the ones who make me overflow with joy, laugh until I can hardly breathe, the ones that know and understand who I am, the ones I would jump in front of a curse and die for, or in this case get hit by a quaffle for. Wow, do I love those people. It scares me sometimes, but I love them. Actually I think those people would be the beaters. Because those are the people that protect me. My friends protect me and I them. Maybe we're all beaters protecting each other from the chasers and quaffles.
Now I - James Fleamont Potter - realise that what I have just said does not make sense, because in real life do the beaters protect people from quaffles? No, they protect them from bludgers, but the metaphor still stands because the roles in it can always be switched around. I probably should’ve thought it through a bit before explaining right away. Or maybe I should just stop trying to relate everything to quidditch.
Hm. Not likely.
The point I'm trying to make is that life is just plain weird.
Ever since the world was blessed with my arrival, I've existed. Imprinting my presence, my memories into the very soul of the people around me, trying to make such an impact that those things would imprint into the very earth itself so that me, my friends and the memories we cherish can live on forevermore. The sad thing is that realistically it isn't possible. But I try.
We started out as strangers living our own lives, creating our own memories, figuring out the small kinks and stubborn tangles that life has to offer, until finally the day came where fate brought us together and connected us with a distinct click of a key sliding and turning perfectly into a lock now opened, making us friends on that not-so-simple red train. That brilliantly beautiful Hogwarts Express.
And then after that, we continued and still continue to make more memories and keep living our lives. But this time we're figuring it out together and not apart. It’s funny how it all works isn’t it? So wonderfully weird and brilliantly complicated, yet so bloody simple all at the same time
The four of us barely knew eachother before, and now… well now it's the complete opposite of that.
I know the exact face Sirius pulls when he's happy, able to slide easily into a cheerful smile, or when he's angry and looks like he might just throw a chair across the room, oh and I for sure know all about that sly Sirius Black expression when he's done something that other people may not exactly approve of - usually a prank or joke of some kind which I'm all for most of the time.
Most of the time.
I even know the exact way he quirks his eyebrow when he wants something infuriatingly specific out of me or out of anyone for that matter, and of course I can't forget about all the signature tells that he unsuccessfully tries to hide when he's sulking and being a moody git, brooding by himself until he eventually gives in and let's others talk to him. I know his secrets, his problems, all his habits. Drumming his hands on the table is a favourite of mine, even if it does get a bit annoying when I’m trying to concentrate.
Sirius understands me, knows me well enough to know the exact thoughts running through my head at almost any given time - the same goes the other way around, both of us able to foretell each others behaviours as if we share the exact same braincells. Plural that is, because no matter how many times it's been joked about, I can assure you that me and Sirius do in fact have more than one braincell between the two of us - even if it that's hard to believe at times.
I can't imagine a life without my best friend by my side, my partner in crime always there to aid me in our elaborate schemes and nefarious plots, having a bloody good time while we’re at it, constantly joking and teasing each other and not to mention giving proper advice if it's ever needed - we can be serious if we want to be.
Siriusly.
We're one and the same me and Sirius, side by side as long as life and death allows us.
Then there’s Peter who I’ve known the longest out of the other three, and honestly I couldn't imagine life without him either. When we were younger Peter was the person I always went to whenever I was in the mood to fantasize about arriving at Hogwarts because he had always dreamed of going just as much as I did, and that created a bond between us, especially whenever we'd steal one of the mankiest and oldest hats from Peter's dad's hat collection and pretended we were getting sorted in to our houses - none other than Gryffindor of course.
He's kind, generous and loyal, all the traits you need for a bloody good friend. He wears odd socks, sleeps strangely curled up on his front like a loaf of bread, refuses to use a different kind of shampoo than to what he's used to (which is the only thing he's quite stubborn about), bites his nails until he's got none left and eats eggs almost religiously, having one in some shape or form every single morning.
And then there’s the small things he does for us, everyday things to make our lives easier, the type of things that usually go unnoticed meaning that he probably does a lot more for us than we realise.
Many people don’t see Peter for who he is, and it makes me... well... I don't know... I just don’t think it’s right for others to think that he doesn’t fit into our little puzzle piece of a group. Outsiders don't know how we work, not really, not with any proper understanding. It's why people (cough cough Snivellus) don't have the right to make comments on our dynamic, they don't know what actually goes on. They don't see how the puzzle fits together, because only The Marauders can identify the links and the shapes, the key to completion.
The Marauders wouldn't be Marauders with just three of us; the puzzle would just fall apart leaving the rest of the pieces with nothing to hold on to. I try and make sure Peter knows that, to know that he's seen and he's valued.
Sometimes I feel I don't do it enough.
And then I know a lot about Remus too. He isn't as open and all over the place as Sirius is, nor Peter for that matter, and it took a lot longer for me to riddle out the basics to the person that Remus Lupin is. But I know now, and that's what matters. And I don't know every secret of his of course, I probably don’t even know all of Sirius’ and Peter’s ones because people are entitled to have secrets, to have privacy, which I admit is something I’ve had to learn over time.
He's a fascinating combination of everything really.
From the outside he looks like a sausage roll. Warm and quiet, with the perfect ratio of meat and pastry, a comfort food to easily divulge in and sink your teeth into the flimsy flaky layer on top to get into the inside where it's a safe place to talk and pour your heart out.
Except Remus isn't like that at all.
Remus is one of the toughest blokes I know, and he usually doesn't let anyone bullshit him, even if he bullshits himself sometimes.
The only reason you'd think he was a sausage roll because he gives off that impression with his warm sweaters and blankets, and tea drinking.
And well... you know when I said that Remus is nothing like a sausage roll? ... plot twist... he kind of is.
Because even with his clever wit, sharp sarcasm, and sometimes (only sometimes) high temper, Remus is easy to talk to, he is warm and he is someone you can always rely on to be kind and share a joke with once you knew him properly.
Just like a good old sausage roll.
And I'm not saying he's cold and mean to everyone that aren't his friends. No. Bloke is always trying to be the definition of politeness to people he doesn't know, he only gets defensive when people try and pry into his life, or they've said something insulting. I'm just saying that with his friends Remus' pastry layer which at first is seemingly made of iron, softens into a flaky and golden heavenly substance.
Merlin, I just compared one of my best mates to a sausage roll. What has the world come to?
And even though they aren’t officially Marauders, I of course can't forget about the girls.
I was going to say that they're the responsible ones, but I’d be lying if I said that and a fool to even think it. They are just as bad as us. Not that we're bad per se... just being teenagers living authentic lives, creating a legacy that will hopefully be remembered and treasured for aeons and aeons of time.
James didn't know what would happen if they were all separated. But he did know that it would be too terrible for him to bear, for all of them to bear. So he made a promise to himself, to do everything in his power to make sure that the separation of the closest friendships of all time wouldn't happen.
In the end we'll all become stories - Margaret Atwood