Summary: Peter Pettigrew never became a Death Eater and Voldemort continued to live. Inside Hogwarts, the world seems like a peaceful place, but outside of it, the Wizarding World is in chaos. The Marauders' offspring, Harry Potter, Polaris Black, Sasha Pettigrew, and Rosalyn Lupin, go to Hogwarts expecting seven peaceful years full of pranks and spells. What they receive, however, is an ongoing adventure they'll never forget. It follows the books closely.
It Could Have Been Like This
Chapter One: The First Month
Sasha Pettigrew rubbed her knuckles and glared at the back of the retreating blond. She felt somebody thumping her on the back and turned to grin at Polaris Black and Harry Potter both of whom were recounting her spectacular punch. She turned to her other side where Rosalyn "Rory" Lupin had her arms crossed over her chest trying to look stern, but failing as a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Move along now," said a sharp voice to the ghost that had been floating above them and many first years whirled around to see Professor McGonagall standing there. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
One by one, the ghosts floated through the opposite wall.
"Now form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."
Harry got into line behind a boy with bright red hair, Rory and Sasha were behind him, and then Polaris took up the rear in front of a pug-faced girl. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Many of the first years immediately looked up at the ceiling and saw there wasn't one that they could see. All there was velvety black with twinkling stars winking at him. Rory whispered to no one in particular, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History."
Harry looked toward the front as Professor McGonagall sat down a four-legged stool and placed a hat on top of it. Harry tilted his head to one side. His father had told him something about having to ride a hippogriff to Hogsmeade and back. What did a hat have to do with that?
For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing. Harry blinked at it and his mouth was hanging open by the end of it. All he had to do was try on a hat? He was going to kill his dad for putting ideas in his head.
Behind him he heard Polaris hissing in Rory's ear, "We put on a hat and then we're sorted? Your dad said something about taming the Whomping Willow."
Rory giggled.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
"Black, Polaris!"
Polaris stepped forward. He had black hair that lay flatly on his head with his fringe falling into his grey eyes. He was tall (but not taller then the redheaded kid in front of Harry) and only slightly tanned. He put on the hat, which fell right over his eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—
"Ah," said a small voice in his ear. "Another Black I see—another rebel. Just like your father, there's no doubt about that. Particularly trustworthy, I see, with an ounce of cunning—both qualities of Hufflepuff and Slytherin…"
Not Slytherin, he thought desperately, Hufflepuff's fine! Just not Slytherin!
"Yes, your mother was in Hufflepuff, I see that now. Yes, but that's not exactly right for you. I think there's only one place you'd be truly happy and that'd be GRYFFINDOR!"
The table on the left cheered and clapped as Polaris went to sit down at the Gryffindor table.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry" and "Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw, but "Brown, Lavender" joined Polaris at the Gryffindor table and a set of twin redheads cat-called at her.
"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. The three friends still in line shared a look and they mentally agreed. The Slytherins looked like an unpleasant lot.
Rory squirmed where she stood knowing that she was the next out of her friends to go up and try on the hat. She chewed her lip and rocked on her feet as "Finnigan, Seamus" became a Gryffindor.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione seemed like a very confident girl as she ran up to the stool and eagerly jammed the hat on her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.
A horrible thought struck Rory, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if you had to be extremely confident to become a Gryffindor? Polaris was always confident; Lavender Brown hadn't seemed at frightened; Seamus Finnigan had looked extremely curious; and Hermione Granger was just eager. What if she was the only one out of her friends to not go to Gryffindor?
When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. After nearly a minute going on two, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Lupin, Rosalyn!" said Professor McGonagall.
Rory had lots of brown hair which usually turned into a tangled mess. At the moment it was pulled back into a very messy ponytail just so that it would stay out of her amber eyes. She was as tall as Harry with olive skin from her Italian decent. Around her nose, however, she had a few freckles that definitely came from her mother.
She walked up toward the stool where Neville was just jumping off the stool. She was about to reach for the hat when he ran off with it. Rory felt very embarrassed as she waited for Neville to come back up to the front to give her the hat so she could try it on. She caught Polaris's eye and he gave her a thumbs-up. She took a deep breath, accepted the hat from Neville with a small "thank you" and placed it on her head.
"Oh," said the Sorting Hat. "A difficult one we have here, do we?"
I'm not difficult, thought Rory stubbornly.
The hat chuckled in her ear. "Of course not—just horribly stubborn, no use in denying it, dear. It's all here in your mind—which isn't a very bad one from what I can see. In fact, I can see that you are exceptionally bright. Ah, but there's bravery there!—and an ounce of recklessness that both your father and mother had if I remember correctly. Yes, both qualities that does well in GRYFFINDOR!"
Rory sighed in relief as she removed the hat from her head and gave it to "MacDougal, Morag."
Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called. His jaw was already turning an odd purplish colour and Sasha grinned happily as she glanced down at her slowly bruising knuckles. She shrugged and glanced up as Harry looked over his shoulder and smirked at her. She smirked back as Malfoy got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
There weren't many people left now.
"Moon"… "Nott"… "Parkinson…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"…, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last—
"Pettigrew, Sasha!"
Sasha was a very petite girl—the smallest one in her year it seemed in fact—with very light blond hair and watery blue eyes. She had a round face with chubby cheeks that were layered with a natural blush that most babies have right after they're born.
One moment she was gazing at the watching students; next second she was looking at the black inside of a hat. She decided that it wasn't very interesting.
"My inside isn't very interesting? Well, I've never given it much thought, but I suppose it is rather dull."
You should put some colour in, thought Sasha fondly.
"Perhaps I will, but we're here for a purpose. Let's look at you. Aha… very loyal, I see. Not one to give up either. You'd make a good Hufflepuff."
That's what you said to my dad, she thought to the hat.
"Yes, and then I found—Right, exactly what I thought. You have the same hidden bravery that your father had. I know just where to put you, but before I sort you, do let me compliment you on the hit you gave that boy before the Sorting Ceremony."
Sasha felt herself grin. Thank you.
"You're quite welcome. Have fun in GRYFFINDOR!"
I will, she thought as she jumped off the stool and held out the hat to "Potter, Harry" who was the next to be sorted. She grinned at him before running off.
Harry had very messy black hair that was impossible to keep tidy. He wore black-rimmed glasses and many would say that he was a mini-replica of his father with his mother's emerald green eyes. He took a deep breath and put the hat on his head as he sat down. He waited.
"Hmm," said a voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"
Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that—no? Well, if you're sure—better be GRYFFINDOR!"
The Sorting ended with "Zabini, Blaise" becoming a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and took the Sorting Hat away.
Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at his students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have please him more than to see them all there.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
"Thank you!"
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered and the four friends gasped as suddenly all of the dishes piled with food. The two boys piled their plates high while the two girls rolled their eyes and piled their plates with respectable amounts.
"Hello," said the ghost in ruff smiling. "I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."
"I know who you are!" said the redheaded boy that had stood in front of Harry, Ron, suddenly. "My brothers told me about you—you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—" the ghost began stiffly, but oblivious Sasha interrupted.
"Excuse me? I was just wondering. How can you be Nearly Headless?"
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if he wanted to snap at her for interrupting him, but decided against it as she had asked so politely. He sighed and said, "Like this." He seized his left ear and pulled. The new Gryffindors were stunned to say the least.
The desserts appeared a little while later. As Rory was piling her plate with chocolate cake and ice cream, Sasha was piling her plate with apple pie, Polaris was piling his plate with rice pudding, and Harry was piling his with treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half, I guess," said Sasha smiling. "My dad's a wizard and my mum is a Squib who grew up around magic—both her parents and sisters were all magical. He didn't know about her being a Squib until after they were engaged. It was just a little shocking to say the least."
The others laughed.
"What about you, Neville?" said Polaris.
"Not much to say," said Neville shrugging. "Both of my parents are magical—both of them were Gryffindors in the same year and went into the Auror Academy together. For the longest time they thought I was a squib, but when I was eight I was locked out of the house and I was so desperate the lock undid itself and I was able to get inside. My parents were so pleased when I told them. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here—they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling in the direction of the Weasley twins.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
The four friends exchanged curious looks.
"And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
They followed Percy through many, many corridors only stopping once because of Peeves, the school poltergeist. They finally came to a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress at the very end of a corridor.
"Password?" she said.
"Caput Draconis," said Percy. The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hold in the wall. They all scrambled through it—Sasha ended up tripping over Neville and they both needed help up—and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room.
Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory which Rory and Sasha disappeared through with five other girls and the boys through another which Harry and Polaris disappeared through with four other boys. Once they found their dorm room they saw their trunks had been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed.
The next day the four young Marauders tried to find their way around the castle. The castle had many staircases of all sizes and shapes, doors that vanished and locked, and statues and paintings that liked to move around. The ghosts didn't help much either with their lies; only Nearly Headless Nick was willing to help lost Gryffindors. Peeves was just as bad as their first night always coming up behind you and grabbing your nose while shouting, "GOT YOUR CONK!"
The caretaker, Argus Filch, was even worse than Peeves. He had no sympathy for lost students and always assumed that they were up to no good. Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris who was wicked fast in bringing Filch to a sign of trouble if you put one toe out of line. Harry and Polaris knew they weren't the only ones wishing to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.
Then there were the classes themselves.
Astronomy was held on Wednesday at midnight to study the night skies through their telescopes. Three times a week they studied Herbology with Professor Sprout. The most boring class, easily, was History of Magic with Professor Binns, the only professor that was a ghost. None of the Marauders were particularly talented in any of these classes.
Sasha's favourite class was Charms and everyone could tell that she had a knack in it. It seemed to be the only class that she had a knack in, however, as she struggling in every other class. Professor Flitwick easily favoured her out of all of his students which made Hermione Granger irritated and amused Rory to no end.
Polaris's best class was without a doubt Transfiguration. On the first day, he had been able to fully turn his matchstick into a needle right before the end of class earning the first of Professor McGonagall's rare smiles. The Marauders' first impression of Professor McGonagall was a teacher who you do not want to cross. By the end of the first class, they knew that they were right.
Harry seemed to favour Defence Against the Dark Arts, however. Even though the teacher, Professor Quirrell, was a complete joke everyone could tell that if given the chance, Harry would excel in the class. For study reasons, or so he said, the four Marauders began to study Defence independently and as they had guessed, Harry was very good at it.
The weirdest thing out of all of them, however, was the fact that Rory's best and favourite class was the class that she got the worst grades in: Potions. The Potions Master, Professor Snape, seemed to dislike the Marauders the second they stepped into the room. Even before the end of class, they knew they had been wrong. Snape didn't dislike them, he hated. them. Even with this little disadvantage, Rory was still the best at Potions in the whole class. Every time she would complete a Potion, however, Snape would call it 'dumb luck' and give her an Acceptable on an Outstanding worthy Potion.
On the Friday after their first week they all went down to visit Hagrid. They knocked on the door and heard Hagrid's voice from inside saying, "Back, Fang—back!"
"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang who bounded straight at Polaris and started licking his ears. Polaris grimaced.
Sasha, who was the only to have met Hagrid before as he had been the one to take her to Diagon Alley (her mother was a Muggle and her father had been out of town on Ministry business), said, "This is Harry, Polaris, and Rosalyn or Rory as we call her."
"A Potter, Black, and Lupin to top off the Marauder package, eh?" said Hagrid grinning at them as poured them tea and put rock cakes onto their plates. "I spent half me life chasin' yer fathers away from the forest."
The four Marauders grinned. The rock cakes were just as they were called—rocks that nearly broke their teeth, but the four of them pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons.
Rory told Hagrid about Snape's first lesson. Hagrid, unlike Harry, Polaris, and Sasha, told Rory not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.
"But he seemed to really hate us."
"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"
Yet, as they four Marauders glanced at each other, they all silently agreed on the same thing—Hagrid didn't quite meet her eyes when he said that.
"How's your father?" Hagrid asked Polaris. "I liked him a lot—great with animals."
With another glance, they agreed that he had changed the subject on purpose but Polaris began to tell Hagrid anyway about his father's retired career as an Auror and his new job as a Winged Horse trainer, and how he snuck in a few Muggle horses into their paddock as well last summer. Sasha picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet.
After reading it through, Sasha gasped, "Hagrid! That Gringotts break-in happened on Harry's birthday—the day we were at Diagon Alley! It might've been happening while we were there!"
There was no doubt about it, as the Marauders glanced at each other again, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Sasha's eye this time. As the four Marauders walked back up to the castle for dinner, they questioned Sasha on what happened while she was Diagon Alley.
"Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen—if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package—that's all there was in there!" said Sasha.
"What if that was what the thieves were looking for?" suggested Polaris slowly.
"Then Hagrid got that package out of there just in time," said Rory logically.
"I wonder what it could be," mused Harry aloud.
"I wonder why Hagrid wouldn't tell us why Snape hated us so," countered Rory. They four Marauders looked at each other and nodded. There was just too much to wonder about.
That following week flying lessons was to start and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together. This was a bad thing because the Marauders all agreed when it came to the fact that they would live happily ever after if they never had to see Draco Malfoy again, but this was a good thing as all four of the Marauders loved to fly. At least they thought they did until the morning of the flying lessons when they found Rory sitting on the Gryffindor table, pale, and not eating.
"Hey, Rory, what's wrong?" asked Polaris. "Be happy, it's Flying Lessons this morning!"
She looked positively ill at the thought.
"What's wrong, Rory?" asked Sasha sympathetically. "You've been flying your whole life; there's nothing to worry about!"
Rory stabbed her bacon and mumbled something.
"Sorry, didn't catch that," said Sasha pleasantly.
"I said, 'No I haven't'."
"No you haven't what? Flown your whole life?"
Rory nodded.
"Yes you have," Harry began to counter but was interrupted.
"Have you ever seen me fly?"
All three of them opened their mouth to answer but stopped short. They looked between each other and then slowly shook their head.
"I'm… I'm…" She went pink. "I'm deathly afraid of heights," she mumbled.
"But—but, I mean…" Polaris began, "Really?"
Rory nodded, miserable.
"That's okay," said Polaris after a short silence. "We're all afraid of something—Gryffindor or not."
Rory gave him a thankful smile. Any further reassurance was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his mother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"I know what that is!" said Sasha with the same enthusiasm that Neville was showing. "That's a Remembrall! Dad gave me one for my birthday two years ago. I always carry it around with me—" She stuffed her hand in her pocket, and then in the other pocket, both coming up empty-handed. "Oh," she said looking slightly dejected, "I suppose I forgot it."
Neville gave her a small smile and explained to the other onlookers, "This tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red—oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "…you've forgotten something…"
"The only problem is," said Sasha giving Neville the same small smile he had given her a moment before, "is that it's hard to remember what you've forgotten!"
Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Harry and Polaris jumped to their feet, but Professor McGonagall quickly appeared.
"What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."
Scowling, Malfoy dropped the Remembrall back on the table.
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
At three-thirty that afternoon, the Marauders and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. Stick out your right hand over broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was of the few that did. Polaris's, much to his annoyance, had simply rolled over on the ground, and both Neville's and Rory's hadn't moved at all. Neville's voice was quavering and Rory was trembling from head to foot; both of them looked terrified at the thought of leaving the ground.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," sad Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising higher and higher—twenty feet—before sliding sideways and—
WHAM—a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy—it's all right, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Sasha, and from the way her eyes flashed you could tell that she was ready to hit him again. Apparently he could tell that she was angry because he didn't say anything, but the other Slytherins didn't know that it had been her who had punched him.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Sasha."
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's mum sent him."
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off.
He hovered and called back to them, "Come and get it, Potter!"
"No!" shouted Hermione Granger and Rory.
"Don't you dare—you could get expelled!" said Rory.
"Madam Hooch told us not to move—you'll get us all into trouble!" cried Hermione.
Harry ignored them both. He jumped on his broom and flew up higher and higher until he was level with Malfoy. Then, with a sharp turn, he faced Malfoy who looked more than a little worried.
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"
"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer but failing.
He shot at Malfoy like a bullet and the other boy only just got out of the way in time.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
Harry raced after the ball watching as it fell closer and closer to the ground—he wasn't going to make it—it was going to smash into the ground—but a foot from the patchy grass, he caught it tightly in his fist and toppled gently onto the ground.
"HARRY POTTER!"
His heart sank. Professor McGonagall was running toward him.
"Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—how dare you—might have broken your neck—"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor—"
"Be quiet, Miss Pettigrew—"
"But Malfoy—"
"That's enough, Mr. Black. Potter, follow me, now."
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were grinning triumphantly as Harry walked off. He followed her through the corridors neither saying a word until they stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
Wood turned out to be a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.
"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall. "In here." Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked.
McGonagall slammed the door behind the retreating and cursing Peeves and turned to face the two boys. "Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood—I've found you a Seeker."
Harry eyes widened as he looked up quickly.
"Are you serious, Professor?" asked Wood, his voice dripping with delight.
"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Do you ride a broomstick often, Potter?"
Harry made a silent gesture that meant sometimes, his heart thumping in his chest.
"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" Wood asked excitedly.
Harry nodded eagerly.
"Wood's the captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.
"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, walking around Harry. "Light—speedy—we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor—a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."
"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule and if he says yes, Potter, you'll need to send an owl to your father asking for one. I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may changed my mind about punishing you," she said sternly. Suddenly, she smiled. "Your father will be so proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch Player himself."
"You're not serious!"
It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Polaris, Rory, and Sasha what had happened when he left the ground with Professor McGonagall.
"Seeker?" said Polaris in awe. "But first years never—you must be the youngest house player in about—"
"—a century," said Harry. "Wood told me. I start training next week. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."
Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.
"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too—Beaters."
"Anyway, we've got to go; Lee Jordon reckons he's found a secret passageway out of the school."
"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."
Fred and George had just disappeared when Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, showed up.
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggle-lovers?"
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you."
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight—wizard's duel—wands only—no contact."
Polaris wheeled around. "We take on your challenge. I'm his second, who's yours?"
"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight, all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
When Malfoy had gone, Rory and Sasha groaned and looked at the two boys across from them.
"You can't go out—Harry, Polaris—you just can't!" cried Rory.
"And why not?" snapped Polaris.
"You'll get Gryffindor into trouble if you get caught!" said Sasha.
"We won't get caught," said Harry simply.
"Harry, you of all people shouldn't be going out tonight—"
"And why is that?"
"—after you were just expelled only a few hours before! What if you are caught? What then? Not only will you lose your position as Seeker, you'll most likely be expelled."
"It's really none of your business," said Harry standing up.
"Good-bye," said Polaris as he followed him.
At half-past eleven, once they were sure that Dean, Seamus, and Ron were fast sleep, Harry and Polaris in bathrobes of green and blue snuck downstairs and were about to go out through the portrait when they heard a familiar voice from behind them.
"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."
A lamp flickered on. Rosalyn Lupin stood at the doorway to the Girls' staircase, her hair in a messy bun that was already falling out and wearing a scarlet bathrobe and a frown.
"Rory!" said Polaris furiously. "Go back to bed!"
Ignoring her, Harry said, "Come on." He walked through the Portrait hole with Polaris behind him, but Rory followed them out hissing how stupid they were being.
"Go away!" snapped Polaris as they went to turn into the next corridor. They stopped suddenly because they saw someone pacing in the moonlight. The person was too small to be a teacher, and almost too small to even be a first year…
"Sasha! Not you too," groaned Polaris.
"What about me?" asked Sasha confused. She turned to face them and her face lit up when she saw who it was. She was standing there with her hair in two perfect ponytails and in a light pink bathrobe. "The Fat Lady isn't in her Portrait—hasn't been for about an hour—I can't get into the common room—"
Whatever else Sasha was going to say was cut off by Rory's moan, "Oh no! Now what am I going to do?"
"I don't know and I don't care," snapped Polaris. "Harry and I have a duel to get to, so if you'll excuse us—"
They had barely got to the end of the corridor when both of the girls caught up with them. "We're coming with you," they announced.
"You are not!" hissed Harry furiously.
But it was a lost battle as the girls continued to follow him anyway. Malfoy and Crabbe weren't at the trophy room yet. All four of them had their wand out just in case Malfoy decided to do a surprise attack on any of them knowing that he probably wouldn't care that either Rory or Sasha weren't in this duel.
Ten minutes later, Polaris checked his watch impatiently, and opened his mouth say something when Rory hissed at him to be quiet. Her eyes were just widening and she looked like she was going to flee the room when they heard what she heard.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris.
Harry was going to signal for everybody to follow him, but he saw that Rory was already leading them out the opposite door. He followed her and Sasha's bathrobe was barely whipping around the corer when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.
"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."
They continued wordlessly down the corridor. They stopped suddenly to peer around a corner and Sasha stubbed her toe—though quietly—on a statue of a swordsman. She began to hop on one foot mouthing obscenities until she hopped into Polaris who had been looking the other and both of them toppled into a suit of armour.
The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.
"RUN!" Harry yelled and four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following. They ran along a hidden passageway that had been behind a tapestry and came out near the Charms classroom.
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted.
Harry shot a look at Rory to see if she was going to say anything, but she was leaning against the wall clutching her chest and breathing deeply. Harry was deeply glad for her silence.
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Polaris, "quickly as possible."
"Let's go," said Harry and they set off again. They had hardly gone a dozen paces, however, when Peeves shot out of classroom in front of them. Sasha gave a surprised squeak which alerted their presence to him.
He grinned at them and then, without any warning, burst into song.
"POTTY WEE POTTER, LOOPY LUPIN, BLACK THE BLACKJACK, AND PETTIGREW SMETTIGREW! MARAUDERS DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR! OH WHATEVER SHALL WE DO?!"
"This is not good!" shrieked Rory and throwing all caution to the wind she ran right under Peeves and slammed into a door—it was locked. The others followed her just as she was whipping out her wand and pointing it at the door, "Alohomora!"
The door swung open and they through it shutting it right behind them and pressed their ears against it, listening.
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.
"All right—please."
"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay—get off, Sasha! What?"
Harry turned around the same time as Rory and Polaris and saw, quite clearly, what. They were standing in a corridor—the forbidden corridor on the third floor—and they were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous three-headed dog.
The dog was getting over the shock that had kept it from tearing them to part in the first place. They all gasped and then screamed as one as Harry blindly groped for the doorknob. The tumbled backwards and could hear the monstrous barks even as they slammed the door shut and relocked it. They then ran all the way back to the Gryffindor tower to the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.
"Pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.
"Why in the wizarding world do they have thing like that locked up in a school?" said Polaris finally. "That dog could have easily eaten us!"
"I think that was the point," gasped Sasha.
"You don't use your eyes, do you?" Rory snapped, catching all of them by surprise. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"Standing on?" repeated Harry. "I was a bit more preoccupied with its heads! Unless you've forgotten, there were three!"
"It was standing on a trap door," said Rory. "It's guarding something."
"Guarding something?" Harry and Polaris repeated at the same time.
"Yes, guarding something and I think we may know what it is." She shot a significant glance toward Sasha and their eyes widened.
"You don't think…?" started Sasha, but Rory cut her off.
"That's exactly what I think." She then turned, grabbed a very pale Sasha by the arm, and began to march off when she stopped halfway and turned toward the boys again. "Oh, and I told you it was going to be a trap." Then she disappeared up the Girls' staircase.
Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Polaris were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. The four Marauders spent the morning wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.
"It's probably really valuable," said Sasha happily.
"Or really dangerous," added Polaris grinning.
"Or both," said Harry.
Rory tried to look up valuable and dangerous objects that were only about two inches long, but she wasn't having much luck without any more clues to fallback on. That morning a letter from Professor McGonagall was delivered to Harry telling him that his first training session would be that night at seven o'clock and that Professor Dumbledore had agreed to let him get a broom so he now needed to owl his father asking for one.
"I'm going to ask Dad for a Nimbus Two Thousand!" announced Harry, unable to hide his glee.
Practice that night was mainly talk about strategy as Harry already knew all about Quidditch. They didn't practice with the Snitch that night for fear of losing it in the dark. Instead, Wood had brought along a small bag of ordinary golf balls. Wood was throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch. Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.
"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."
Chapter One: The First Month
Sasha Pettigrew rubbed her knuckles and glared at the back of the retreating blond. She felt somebody thumping her on the back and turned to grin at Polaris Black and Harry Potter both of whom were recounting her spectacular punch. She turned to her other side where Rosalyn "Rory" Lupin had her arms crossed over her chest trying to look stern, but failing as a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Move along now," said a sharp voice to the ghost that had been floating above them and many first years whirled around to see Professor McGonagall standing there. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
One by one, the ghosts floated through the opposite wall.
"Now form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."
Harry got into line behind a boy with bright red hair, Rory and Sasha were behind him, and then Polaris took up the rear in front of a pug-faced girl. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Many of the first years immediately looked up at the ceiling and saw there wasn't one that they could see. All there was velvety black with twinkling stars winking at him. Rory whispered to no one in particular, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History."
Harry looked toward the front as Professor McGonagall sat down a four-legged stool and placed a hat on top of it. Harry tilted his head to one side. His father had told him something about having to ride a hippogriff to Hogsmeade and back. What did a hat have to do with that?
For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing. Harry blinked at it and his mouth was hanging open by the end of it. All he had to do was try on a hat? He was going to kill his dad for putting ideas in his head.
Behind him he heard Polaris hissing in Rory's ear, "We put on a hat and then we're sorted? Your dad said something about taming the Whomping Willow."
Rory giggled.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
"Black, Polaris!"
Polaris stepped forward. He had black hair that lay flatly on his head with his fringe falling into his grey eyes. He was tall (but not taller then the redheaded kid in front of Harry) and only slightly tanned. He put on the hat, which fell right over his eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—
"Ah," said a small voice in his ear. "Another Black I see—another rebel. Just like your father, there's no doubt about that. Particularly trustworthy, I see, with an ounce of cunning—both qualities of Hufflepuff and Slytherin…"
Not Slytherin, he thought desperately, Hufflepuff's fine! Just not Slytherin!
"Yes, your mother was in Hufflepuff, I see that now. Yes, but that's not exactly right for you. I think there's only one place you'd be truly happy and that'd be GRYFFINDOR!"
The table on the left cheered and clapped as Polaris went to sit down at the Gryffindor table.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
"Boot, Terry" and "Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw, but "Brown, Lavender" joined Polaris at the Gryffindor table and a set of twin redheads cat-called at her.
"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. The three friends still in line shared a look and they mentally agreed. The Slytherins looked like an unpleasant lot.
Rory squirmed where she stood knowing that she was the next out of her friends to go up and try on the hat. She chewed her lip and rocked on her feet as "Finnigan, Seamus" became a Gryffindor.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione seemed like a very confident girl as she ran up to the stool and eagerly jammed the hat on her head.
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.
A horrible thought struck Rory, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if you had to be extremely confident to become a Gryffindor? Polaris was always confident; Lavender Brown hadn't seemed at frightened; Seamus Finnigan had looked extremely curious; and Hermione Granger was just eager. What if she was the only one out of her friends to not go to Gryffindor?
When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. After nearly a minute going on two, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Lupin, Rosalyn!" said Professor McGonagall.
Rory had lots of brown hair which usually turned into a tangled mess. At the moment it was pulled back into a very messy ponytail just so that it would stay out of her amber eyes. She was as tall as Harry with olive skin from her Italian decent. Around her nose, however, she had a few freckles that definitely came from her mother.
She walked up toward the stool where Neville was just jumping off the stool. She was about to reach for the hat when he ran off with it. Rory felt very embarrassed as she waited for Neville to come back up to the front to give her the hat so she could try it on. She caught Polaris's eye and he gave her a thumbs-up. She took a deep breath, accepted the hat from Neville with a small "thank you" and placed it on her head.
"Oh," said the Sorting Hat. "A difficult one we have here, do we?"
I'm not difficult, thought Rory stubbornly.
The hat chuckled in her ear. "Of course not—just horribly stubborn, no use in denying it, dear. It's all here in your mind—which isn't a very bad one from what I can see. In fact, I can see that you are exceptionally bright. Ah, but there's bravery there!—and an ounce of recklessness that both your father and mother had if I remember correctly. Yes, both qualities that does well in GRYFFINDOR!"
Rory sighed in relief as she removed the hat from her head and gave it to "MacDougal, Morag."
Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called. His jaw was already turning an odd purplish colour and Sasha grinned happily as she glanced down at her slowly bruising knuckles. She shrugged and glanced up as Harry looked over his shoulder and smirked at her. She smirked back as Malfoy got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
There weren't many people left now.
"Moon"… "Nott"… "Parkinson…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"…, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last—
"Pettigrew, Sasha!"
Sasha was a very petite girl—the smallest one in her year it seemed in fact—with very light blond hair and watery blue eyes. She had a round face with chubby cheeks that were layered with a natural blush that most babies have right after they're born.
One moment she was gazing at the watching students; next second she was looking at the black inside of a hat. She decided that it wasn't very interesting.
"My inside isn't very interesting? Well, I've never given it much thought, but I suppose it is rather dull."
You should put some colour in, thought Sasha fondly.
"Perhaps I will, but we're here for a purpose. Let's look at you. Aha… very loyal, I see. Not one to give up either. You'd make a good Hufflepuff."
That's what you said to my dad, she thought to the hat.
"Yes, and then I found—Right, exactly what I thought. You have the same hidden bravery that your father had. I know just where to put you, but before I sort you, do let me compliment you on the hit you gave that boy before the Sorting Ceremony."
Sasha felt herself grin. Thank you.
"You're quite welcome. Have fun in GRYFFINDOR!"
I will, she thought as she jumped off the stool and held out the hat to "Potter, Harry" who was the next to be sorted. She grinned at him before running off.
Harry had very messy black hair that was impossible to keep tidy. He wore black-rimmed glasses and many would say that he was a mini-replica of his father with his mother's emerald green eyes. He took a deep breath and put the hat on his head as he sat down. He waited.
"Hmm," said a voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"
Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that—no? Well, if you're sure—better be GRYFFINDOR!"
The Sorting ended with "Zabini, Blaise" becoming a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and took the Sorting Hat away.
Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at his students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have please him more than to see them all there.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
"Thank you!"
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered and the four friends gasped as suddenly all of the dishes piled with food. The two boys piled their plates high while the two girls rolled their eyes and piled their plates with respectable amounts.
"Hello," said the ghost in ruff smiling. "I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."
"I know who you are!" said the redheaded boy that had stood in front of Harry, Ron, suddenly. "My brothers told me about you—you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—" the ghost began stiffly, but oblivious Sasha interrupted.
"Excuse me? I was just wondering. How can you be Nearly Headless?"
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if he wanted to snap at her for interrupting him, but decided against it as she had asked so politely. He sighed and said, "Like this." He seized his left ear and pulled. The new Gryffindors were stunned to say the least.
The desserts appeared a little while later. As Rory was piling her plate with chocolate cake and ice cream, Sasha was piling her plate with apple pie, Polaris was piling his plate with rice pudding, and Harry was piling his with treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half, I guess," said Sasha smiling. "My dad's a wizard and my mum is a Squib who grew up around magic—both her parents and sisters were all magical. He didn't know about her being a Squib until after they were engaged. It was just a little shocking to say the least."
The others laughed.
"What about you, Neville?" said Polaris.
"Not much to say," said Neville shrugging. "Both of my parents are magical—both of them were Gryffindors in the same year and went into the Auror Academy together. For the longest time they thought I was a squib, but when I was eight I was locked out of the house and I was so desperate the lock undid itself and I was able to get inside. My parents were so pleased when I told them. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here—they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling in the direction of the Weasley twins.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
The four friends exchanged curious looks.
"And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
They followed Percy through many, many corridors only stopping once because of Peeves, the school poltergeist. They finally came to a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress at the very end of a corridor.
"Password?" she said.
"Caput Draconis," said Percy. The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hold in the wall. They all scrambled through it—Sasha ended up tripping over Neville and they both needed help up—and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room.
Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory which Rory and Sasha disappeared through with five other girls and the boys through another which Harry and Polaris disappeared through with four other boys. Once they found their dorm room they saw their trunks had been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed.
The next day the four young Marauders tried to find their way around the castle. The castle had many staircases of all sizes and shapes, doors that vanished and locked, and statues and paintings that liked to move around. The ghosts didn't help much either with their lies; only Nearly Headless Nick was willing to help lost Gryffindors. Peeves was just as bad as their first night always coming up behind you and grabbing your nose while shouting, "GOT YOUR CONK!"
The caretaker, Argus Filch, was even worse than Peeves. He had no sympathy for lost students and always assumed that they were up to no good. Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris who was wicked fast in bringing Filch to a sign of trouble if you put one toe out of line. Harry and Polaris knew they weren't the only ones wishing to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.
Then there were the classes themselves.
Astronomy was held on Wednesday at midnight to study the night skies through their telescopes. Three times a week they studied Herbology with Professor Sprout. The most boring class, easily, was History of Magic with Professor Binns, the only professor that was a ghost. None of the Marauders were particularly talented in any of these classes.
Sasha's favourite class was Charms and everyone could tell that she had a knack in it. It seemed to be the only class that she had a knack in, however, as she struggling in every other class. Professor Flitwick easily favoured her out of all of his students which made Hermione Granger irritated and amused Rory to no end.
Polaris's best class was without a doubt Transfiguration. On the first day, he had been able to fully turn his matchstick into a needle right before the end of class earning the first of Professor McGonagall's rare smiles. The Marauders' first impression of Professor McGonagall was a teacher who you do not want to cross. By the end of the first class, they knew that they were right.
Harry seemed to favour Defence Against the Dark Arts, however. Even though the teacher, Professor Quirrell, was a complete joke everyone could tell that if given the chance, Harry would excel in the class. For study reasons, or so he said, the four Marauders began to study Defence independently and as they had guessed, Harry was very good at it.
The weirdest thing out of all of them, however, was the fact that Rory's best and favourite class was the class that she got the worst grades in: Potions. The Potions Master, Professor Snape, seemed to dislike the Marauders the second they stepped into the room. Even before the end of class, they knew they had been wrong. Snape didn't dislike them, he hated. them. Even with this little disadvantage, Rory was still the best at Potions in the whole class. Every time she would complete a Potion, however, Snape would call it 'dumb luck' and give her an Acceptable on an Outstanding worthy Potion.
On the Friday after their first week they all went down to visit Hagrid. They knocked on the door and heard Hagrid's voice from inside saying, "Back, Fang—back!"
"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang who bounded straight at Polaris and started licking his ears. Polaris grimaced.
Sasha, who was the only to have met Hagrid before as he had been the one to take her to Diagon Alley (her mother was a Muggle and her father had been out of town on Ministry business), said, "This is Harry, Polaris, and Rosalyn or Rory as we call her."
"A Potter, Black, and Lupin to top off the Marauder package, eh?" said Hagrid grinning at them as poured them tea and put rock cakes onto their plates. "I spent half me life chasin' yer fathers away from the forest."
The four Marauders grinned. The rock cakes were just as they were called—rocks that nearly broke their teeth, but the four of them pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons.
Rory told Hagrid about Snape's first lesson. Hagrid, unlike Harry, Polaris, and Sasha, told Rory not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.
"But he seemed to really hate us."
"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"
Yet, as they four Marauders glanced at each other, they all silently agreed on the same thing—Hagrid didn't quite meet her eyes when he said that.
"How's your father?" Hagrid asked Polaris. "I liked him a lot—great with animals."
With another glance, they agreed that he had changed the subject on purpose but Polaris began to tell Hagrid anyway about his father's retired career as an Auror and his new job as a Winged Horse trainer, and how he snuck in a few Muggle horses into their paddock as well last summer. Sasha picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet.
After reading it through, Sasha gasped, "Hagrid! That Gringotts break-in happened on Harry's birthday—the day we were at Diagon Alley! It might've been happening while we were there!"
There was no doubt about it, as the Marauders glanced at each other again, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Sasha's eye this time. As the four Marauders walked back up to the castle for dinner, they questioned Sasha on what happened while she was Diagon Alley.
"Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen—if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package—that's all there was in there!" said Sasha.
"What if that was what the thieves were looking for?" suggested Polaris slowly.
"Then Hagrid got that package out of there just in time," said Rory logically.
"I wonder what it could be," mused Harry aloud.
"I wonder why Hagrid wouldn't tell us why Snape hated us so," countered Rory. They four Marauders looked at each other and nodded. There was just too much to wonder about.
That following week flying lessons was to start and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together. This was a bad thing because the Marauders all agreed when it came to the fact that they would live happily ever after if they never had to see Draco Malfoy again, but this was a good thing as all four of the Marauders loved to fly. At least they thought they did until the morning of the flying lessons when they found Rory sitting on the Gryffindor table, pale, and not eating.
"Hey, Rory, what's wrong?" asked Polaris. "Be happy, it's Flying Lessons this morning!"
She looked positively ill at the thought.
"What's wrong, Rory?" asked Sasha sympathetically. "You've been flying your whole life; there's nothing to worry about!"
Rory stabbed her bacon and mumbled something.
"Sorry, didn't catch that," said Sasha pleasantly.
"I said, 'No I haven't'."
"No you haven't what? Flown your whole life?"
Rory nodded.
"Yes you have," Harry began to counter but was interrupted.
"Have you ever seen me fly?"
All three of them opened their mouth to answer but stopped short. They looked between each other and then slowly shook their head.
"I'm… I'm…" She went pink. "I'm deathly afraid of heights," she mumbled.
"But—but, I mean…" Polaris began, "Really?"
Rory nodded, miserable.
"That's okay," said Polaris after a short silence. "We're all afraid of something—Gryffindor or not."
Rory gave him a thankful smile. Any further reassurance was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his mother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.
"I know what that is!" said Sasha with the same enthusiasm that Neville was showing. "That's a Remembrall! Dad gave me one for my birthday two years ago. I always carry it around with me—" She stuffed her hand in her pocket, and then in the other pocket, both coming up empty-handed. "Oh," she said looking slightly dejected, "I suppose I forgot it."
Neville gave her a small smile and explained to the other onlookers, "This tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red—oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "…you've forgotten something…"
"The only problem is," said Sasha giving Neville the same small smile he had given her a moment before, "is that it's hard to remember what you've forgotten!"
Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.
Harry and Polaris jumped to their feet, but Professor McGonagall quickly appeared.
"What's going on?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."
Scowling, Malfoy dropped the Remembrall back on the table.
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
At three-thirty that afternoon, the Marauders and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground.
Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. Stick out your right hand over broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was of the few that did. Polaris's, much to his annoyance, had simply rolled over on the ground, and both Neville's and Rory's hadn't moved at all. Neville's voice was quavering and Rory was trembling from head to foot; both of them looked terrified at the thought of leaving the ground.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," sad Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising higher and higher—twenty feet—before sliding sideways and—
WHAM—a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.
"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy—it's all right, up you get."
She turned to the rest of the class.
"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."
No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.
"Did you see his face, the great lump?"
The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Sasha, and from the way her eyes flashed you could tell that she was ready to hit him again. Apparently he could tell that she was angry because he didn't say anything, but the other Slytherins didn't know that it had been her who had punched him.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Sasha."
"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's mum sent him."
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off.
He hovered and called back to them, "Come and get it, Potter!"
"No!" shouted Hermione Granger and Rory.
"Don't you dare—you could get expelled!" said Rory.
"Madam Hooch told us not to move—you'll get us all into trouble!" cried Hermione.
Harry ignored them both. He jumped on his broom and flew up higher and higher until he was level with Malfoy. Then, with a sharp turn, he faced Malfoy who looked more than a little worried.
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"
"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer but failing.
He shot at Malfoy like a bullet and the other boy only just got out of the way in time.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.
The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
Harry raced after the ball watching as it fell closer and closer to the ground—he wasn't going to make it—it was going to smash into the ground—but a foot from the patchy grass, he caught it tightly in his fist and toppled gently onto the ground.
"HARRY POTTER!"
His heart sank. Professor McGonagall was running toward him.
"Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—how dare you—might have broken your neck—"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor—"
"Be quiet, Miss Pettigrew—"
"But Malfoy—"
"That's enough, Mr. Black. Potter, follow me, now."
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were grinning triumphantly as Harry walked off. He followed her through the corridors neither saying a word until they stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
Wood turned out to be a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.
"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall. "In here." Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked.
McGonagall slammed the door behind the retreating and cursing Peeves and turned to face the two boys. "Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood—I've found you a Seeker."
Harry eyes widened as he looked up quickly.
"Are you serious, Professor?" asked Wood, his voice dripping with delight.
"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Do you ride a broomstick often, Potter?"
Harry made a silent gesture that meant sometimes, his heart thumping in his chest.
"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" Wood asked excitedly.
Harry nodded eagerly.
"Wood's the captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.
"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, walking around Harry. "Light—speedy—we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor—a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."
"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule and if he says yes, Potter, you'll need to send an owl to your father asking for one. I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may changed my mind about punishing you," she said sternly. Suddenly, she smiled. "Your father will be so proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch Player himself."
"You're not serious!"
It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Polaris, Rory, and Sasha what had happened when he left the ground with Professor McGonagall.
"Seeker?" said Polaris in awe. "But first years never—you must be the youngest house player in about—"
"—a century," said Harry. "Wood told me. I start training next week. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."
Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.
"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too—Beaters."
"Anyway, we've got to go; Lee Jordon reckons he's found a secret passageway out of the school."
"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."
Fred and George had just disappeared when Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, showed up.
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggle-lovers?"
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you."
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight—wizard's duel—wands only—no contact."
Polaris wheeled around. "We take on your challenge. I'm his second, who's yours?"
"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight, all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
When Malfoy had gone, Rory and Sasha groaned and looked at the two boys across from them.
"You can't go out—Harry, Polaris—you just can't!" cried Rory.
"And why not?" snapped Polaris.
"You'll get Gryffindor into trouble if you get caught!" said Sasha.
"We won't get caught," said Harry simply.
"Harry, you of all people shouldn't be going out tonight—"
"And why is that?"
"—after you were just expelled only a few hours before! What if you are caught? What then? Not only will you lose your position as Seeker, you'll most likely be expelled."
"It's really none of your business," said Harry standing up.
"Good-bye," said Polaris as he followed him.
At half-past eleven, once they were sure that Dean, Seamus, and Ron were fast sleep, Harry and Polaris in bathrobes of green and blue snuck downstairs and were about to go out through the portrait when they heard a familiar voice from behind them.
"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."
A lamp flickered on. Rosalyn Lupin stood at the doorway to the Girls' staircase, her hair in a messy bun that was already falling out and wearing a scarlet bathrobe and a frown.
"Rory!" said Polaris furiously. "Go back to bed!"
Ignoring her, Harry said, "Come on." He walked through the Portrait hole with Polaris behind him, but Rory followed them out hissing how stupid they were being.
"Go away!" snapped Polaris as they went to turn into the next corridor. They stopped suddenly because they saw someone pacing in the moonlight. The person was too small to be a teacher, and almost too small to even be a first year…
"Sasha! Not you too," groaned Polaris.
"What about me?" asked Sasha confused. She turned to face them and her face lit up when she saw who it was. She was standing there with her hair in two perfect ponytails and in a light pink bathrobe. "The Fat Lady isn't in her Portrait—hasn't been for about an hour—I can't get into the common room—"
Whatever else Sasha was going to say was cut off by Rory's moan, "Oh no! Now what am I going to do?"
"I don't know and I don't care," snapped Polaris. "Harry and I have a duel to get to, so if you'll excuse us—"
They had barely got to the end of the corridor when both of the girls caught up with them. "We're coming with you," they announced.
"You are not!" hissed Harry furiously.
But it was a lost battle as the girls continued to follow him anyway. Malfoy and Crabbe weren't at the trophy room yet. All four of them had their wand out just in case Malfoy decided to do a surprise attack on any of them knowing that he probably wouldn't care that either Rory or Sasha weren't in this duel.
Ten minutes later, Polaris checked his watch impatiently, and opened his mouth say something when Rory hissed at him to be quiet. Her eyes were just widening and she looked like she was going to flee the room when they heard what she heard.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."
It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris.
Harry was going to signal for everybody to follow him, but he saw that Rory was already leading them out the opposite door. He followed her and Sasha's bathrobe was barely whipping around the corer when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.
"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."
They continued wordlessly down the corridor. They stopped suddenly to peer around a corner and Sasha stubbed her toe—though quietly—on a statue of a swordsman. She began to hop on one foot mouthing obscenities until she hopped into Polaris who had been looking the other and both of them toppled into a suit of armour.
The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.
"RUN!" Harry yelled and four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following. They ran along a hidden passageway that had been behind a tapestry and came out near the Charms classroom.
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted.
Harry shot a look at Rory to see if she was going to say anything, but she was leaning against the wall clutching her chest and breathing deeply. Harry was deeply glad for her silence.
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Polaris, "quickly as possible."
"Let's go," said Harry and they set off again. They had hardly gone a dozen paces, however, when Peeves shot out of classroom in front of them. Sasha gave a surprised squeak which alerted their presence to him.
He grinned at them and then, without any warning, burst into song.
"POTTY WEE POTTER, LOOPY LUPIN, BLACK THE BLACKJACK, AND PETTIGREW SMETTIGREW! MARAUDERS DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR! OH WHATEVER SHALL WE DO?!"
"This is not good!" shrieked Rory and throwing all caution to the wind she ran right under Peeves and slammed into a door—it was locked. The others followed her just as she was whipping out her wand and pointing it at the door, "Alohomora!"
The door swung open and they through it shutting it right behind them and pressed their ears against it, listening.
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.
"All right—please."
"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay—get off, Sasha! What?"
Harry turned around the same time as Rory and Polaris and saw, quite clearly, what. They were standing in a corridor—the forbidden corridor on the third floor—and they were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous three-headed dog.
The dog was getting over the shock that had kept it from tearing them to part in the first place. They all gasped and then screamed as one as Harry blindly groped for the doorknob. The tumbled backwards and could hear the monstrous barks even as they slammed the door shut and relocked it. They then ran all the way back to the Gryffindor tower to the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.
"Pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.
"Why in the wizarding world do they have thing like that locked up in a school?" said Polaris finally. "That dog could have easily eaten us!"
"I think that was the point," gasped Sasha.
"You don't use your eyes, do you?" Rory snapped, catching all of them by surprise. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"Standing on?" repeated Harry. "I was a bit more preoccupied with its heads! Unless you've forgotten, there were three!"
"It was standing on a trap door," said Rory. "It's guarding something."
"Guarding something?" Harry and Polaris repeated at the same time.
"Yes, guarding something and I think we may know what it is." She shot a significant glance toward Sasha and their eyes widened.
"You don't think…?" started Sasha, but Rory cut her off.
"That's exactly what I think." She then turned, grabbed a very pale Sasha by the arm, and began to march off when she stopped halfway and turned toward the boys again. "Oh, and I told you it was going to be a trap." Then she disappeared up the Girls' staircase.
Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Polaris were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. The four Marauders spent the morning wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.
"It's probably really valuable," said Sasha happily.
"Or really dangerous," added Polaris grinning.
"Or both," said Harry.
Rory tried to look up valuable and dangerous objects that were only about two inches long, but she wasn't having much luck without any more clues to fallback on. That morning a letter from Professor McGonagall was delivered to Harry telling him that his first training session would be that night at seven o'clock and that Professor Dumbledore had agreed to let him get a broom so he now needed to owl his father asking for one.
"I'm going to ask Dad for a Nimbus Two Thousand!" announced Harry, unable to hide his glee.
Practice that night was mainly talk about strategy as Harry already knew all about Quidditch. They didn't practice with the Snitch that night for fear of losing it in the dark. Instead, Wood had brought along a small bag of ordinary golf balls. Wood was throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch. Harry didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.
"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."