I feel my decision to join in the creation of Harry Potter fanfiction is a bit belated, considering "Deathly Hallows" was published in 2007. But I was one of those millennials whose parents forbade Harry Potter based on a ridiculous religious platform, and so I had sit out as all my friends became engrossed in a series that I would later discover is truly amazing. I finally had the chance to read the books two years ago, and since then have read through them twice, and watched the movies.

That being said, I'm still a relatively puerile Harry Potter lover, so please forgive me any anachronisms.

I'm still holding out hope that J.K. Rowling will someday write more about the Marauders during their Hogwarts years and the First Wizarding War. Until then, I'm going to borrow her incredible characters to write what I like to think could have happened.

XX

Remus Lupin glanced up from his book just in time to see Severus Snape rush past, steaming and sputtering a slew of curse words under his breath. His slick black hair was stringier than usual, probably owing to the gobs of a suspiciously unrecognizable purple substance slowly inching down his face and robe.

Remus felt compelled to shake his head, yet his exasperation was tinged with unpreventable delight, as he knew what to expect next.

As the incensed Slytherin stormed past the Black Lake nestled south of Hogwarts castle, Remus turned back toward the direction from where Snape came to find he was not wrong.

Coming up the same hill were the figures of his two fellow sixth years, currently stumbling among bouts of laughter. Both were Gryffindors. Both had black hair, though worn in vastly different styles. Both had an inexplicable dislike of Snape.

Remus sighed. He knew a prefect badge hung from his robe. And he had a sneaking suspicion Dumbledore gave it to him precisely for moments such as these.

As the two laughing teenagers fell to soft grass-covered earth beside Remus, he asked – trying to keep his voice clean of amusement – "Alright, Padfoot, Prongs… what did you do to Severus this time?"

"Just a simple Gelanious Jinx, Moony. Does no permanent damage, unless he can't figure out the counter-jinx," James Potter snickered and gave Sirius a knowing look. Sirius Black smirked in return.

Remus, catching the interchange, sighed again and did his best to frown upon his fellow Marauders' behavior. "What's the counter-jinx?"

Sirius' arrogant yet playful smirk grew more defined as he answered, "Not sure. We haven't come up with one, yet."

Remus was not surprised to discover the pranksters had developed yet another ridiculously childish spell. "I assume Severus did something genuinely awful to warrant this foul play?"

James gasped in mock indignation. "Of course, mate! We always have a good reason behind casting a jinx or a hex."

"Always," Sirius chimed in, his voice the epitome of casual confidence.

"He was picking on poor Evans and her friends. They didn't have the gumption to stop him – someone had to, right? We did it for the common good."

"How noble of you. But are you quite sure," Remus asked, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrows deliberately, "that he wasn't just talking to Lily and she actually didn't mind at all, seeing as they've been friends for a long time?"

"Of course not," James replied, unperturbed to receive what could be conceived as a reprimand from one of his best friends. "She was definitely irritated. They're not as close as they used to be. Not since she's started to realize what Snivellus really is – a thoroughly rotten egg."

"Honestly, Moony," Sirius turned to Remus and gave him a mocking grin. "Whose side are you on? Prefect or not, I would expect you to show more loyalty toward our dear Prongs here. He is selflessly trying to protect the vulnerable from evil – and hair grease."

Remus looked into Sirius' liquid grey eyes, brimming with mirth and playful teasing as they normally were, and he felt his face soften, along with whatever minute resolve he had mustered to keep his friends' antics in check. It was hard to stay annoyed with James, and even more so Sirius. Somehow his energy, cleverness and charm kept him on everyone's good side. Well … mostly everyone.

"You're right, you're right, Padfoot," Remus smiled.

"As usual," Sirius followed up quickly.

"I extend my sincerest apologies to Mr. Prongs for doubting his motives," Remus said with an air of feigned remorse.

James said nothing. He was subconsciously running his fingers through his already messy hair, and his gaze denoted distraction.

Sure enough, seconds later, Lily Evans and two of her close friends, a fellow Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw, sauntered past the three teenagers sprawled under the graceful willow. Lily paid them no mind, but Remus saw the Ravenclaw cast a particularly pleased and flirtatious smile at Sirius. The raven-haired boy smiled back, augmenting his attractiveness without appearing overly eager or interested.

Sirius was born with the upper hand in many regards, and he rarely gave it up. He would do what it took to maintain favor in the eyes of his peers without relinquishing the elite social status he occupied.

Observing this interlude, Remus felt pricked by a familiar twinge of jealously. Without giving it more than indifferent acknowledgement, he dismissed it.

He felt invaded by that injection of inexplicable envy each time Sirius received overt adoration from his ample supply of admirers. The first time it happened, a couple years ago, Remus was confused by it. He wasn't a naturally jealous person and he wasn't apt to view himself with pity – so why did it bother him when Sirius was shamelessly accosted by member after member of Hogwarts' female population?

Certainly Remus did not receive the same attention from fellow students, although he was favored among the teachers. He didn't have the overwhelming good looks, the prestigious name nor the irresistible charm Sirius possessed. Unable to derive a better explanation, Remus felt forced to conclude that he was just feeling sorry for himself. Not wanting to be defined by such a distasteful characteristic, he had learned to ignore the pathetic jealousy each time it stabbed him.

"Aren't you going to say 'thanks,' Evans?" James called after the trio of girls before they finished removing themselves from earshot.

Remus shook his head and covered his face. "Oh James," he muttered, "always a step too far."

Indeed, Lily had spun around. She gazed unabashedly at James, her chin raised with a haughtiness that rivalled Sirius'. "Thanks? For what, Potter? For casting a juvenile hex on my friend, just as you always do? I would rather lose Gryffindor the House Cup than ever bestow on you my gratitude."

"It was actually a jinx, Evans, not a hex," was the only response James could muster, whether out of embarrassment or annoyance. Even Sirius groaned that time.

Remus and Sirius had tried, to no avail, to recommend James change the rather obtuse approach he took when wooing Lily. After a series of subtle hints and then painfully honest interventions, the two finally admitted they would see the house elves liberated before they saw James Potter learn to use tact.

Lily's cheeks flushed with anger. "I also find it incredibly insulting you think I would ever require your help to defend myself … if I actually was being bothered," she spluttered. "If I need someone to show me just how large a head can inflate before it pops, I'll call for you. Until then, find someone better to pick on."

She turned abruptly and continued walking toward the castle, taking determined, angry strides. The Ravenclaw girl waved sweetly, a hint of apology on her face, before following her fiery-haired friend.

Remus thought for a second that James would be daft enough to get up and chase after Lily, trying to explain his actions or simply further deriding Snape.

Sirius must have sensed it as well, as he muttered, "Just let it go, mate."

"Whatever," James scoffed, trying to act dismissive as he settled back onto the grass, his arms crossed behind his head.

"Right. Well, gents," Sirius seemed keen to change the conversation. He clapped his hands together, his face alight with mischievous delight. "It's time for the Marauders to start devising plans for Hogwarts' Happy Holiday Hijinks of 1976. Any suggestions? Also, where the hell is Peter?"

"We can start making plans without him," said James, who had perked up at the idea of more mischief-making. "We'll fill him in later. Anyway, I've got a great idea…"

Remus caught Sirius' eye over the top of James' head, and he mouthed the word, "brilliant." Sirius winked back, his roguish grin never straying from his lips.

A warm, curdling sensation afflicted Remus' stomach. That too was becoming a somewhat regular occurrence when Sirius grinned at him, or winked at him, or, especially, when he rested his head or arm casually on Remus' shoulder.

Remus thought himself incredibly lucky. A few years ago, before heading to Scotland and entering Hogwarts, he felt a poignant sense of isolation and loneliness. His mind was infested with doubt that he could successfully engage with his peers, let alone make friends. When he was admitted to the wizarding school, he experienced hope for the first time in a long while. When he met Sirius, James and Peter, he found camaraderie and was awed by how positively it impacted his life.

The connection he felt with the trio, the ability to be himself – werewolf, nerd and all – was both liberating and comforting. They could match his intelligence with their own, help shield him from the worst parts of himself and guide him toward joy in places he had forgotten to look.

Even now, as they sat idling away the afternoon under glistening sunlight, discussing their next full-scale prank that was now tradition during Christmas, he felt at peace, content and happy. Never mind that the full moon was fast approaching at the end of the week. Never mind that, as he knew, many people only overlooked his seemingly odd behavior and appearance because he was friends with the monstrously popular James Potter and Sirius Black. The fact remained that he was their friend. It gave him the comfort and security of normality, and as a result, kept him tethered to his sanity.