Chapter One:

JamesPotter

Minerva McGonagall sighed in exasperation as James Potter stumbled inside her office, his expression indignant. It was evident that somebody had pushed him inside as a practical joke; the shuffling of many robes and Peter's failure at stifling his laughter confirmed her suspicions.

On top of that, James Potter had the nerve to play it down as if nothing had happened.

'May I come in, professor?' He asked, flustered, with his feet already planted several foot inside her office.

McGonagall pursed her lips and motioned for him to take a seat. He grinned back at the shadows on the door to the office and took a seat. Minerva waved her hand irritably and the door shut, leaving behind a trio of indignant Marauders.

'Before you waste any more of my time,' McGonagall snapped 'I will begin with the session.'

A drawer opened of its own accord and a sheaf of parchments flew on top of her desk.

'If we overlook your constant ignorance to the written rules, your tendencies to initiate a pillow fight during your Divination classes and your inept skills at potion making, you could be termed as quite a good student, with various career options. Of course, you'd need a little grooming at charms but you're doing more than what's expected of you.' She spoke fluently, frowning at the parchment resting on her palm.

'I want to be an Auror!' James exclaimed excitedly and grinned at the door, apparently forgetting that it was closed.

McGonagall looked up wearily.

'It's as if there are no other professions in the Wizarding World.' She grumbled. 'Potter, I can't see you becoming an Auror. There are screening processes that you will be evaluated on should you fulfil the first wave of criterion and apply. They are not just looking for academically gifted students. They are looking for warriors, with the darkness that surrounds us at the moment. And they take authority very seriously, you don't.' She finished, waiting for him to express his displeasure at her lack of confidence in him. He grinned, instead.

'You know me too well, professor. But these are school rules that I disobey. If it is for fighting against... whatever they are, I am willing to change,' He declared firmly, a new light burning in his hazel eyes. 'I have seen my friends lose their family to this war and I don't want to lose mine. Count me against them.'

McGonagall blinked, 'Potter, there are various other - safer - streams that you can pursue. Besides, you hate potions. And I can guarantee you a sky high success if you ever land on a Quidditch field.'

For a second, James wavered. He imagined himself emerging through the stands, a broomstick in his hands with rain and storm thundering around, lost in the echo of fifty thousand people cheering his name, one of them a certain redhead - face shining with admiration.

Then the same light burned again and he spoke, 'I have decided professor, I will fight against them. Whether as an Auror or as a wild card vigilante. I can't go around riding a broomstick while the Wizarding World is on the verge of collapsing.'

McGonagall sighed and motioned for him to stand. 'I will give you a guide that will help you get through the screening processes and a report of how much you need to improve academically to fulfil their application requirements. You are good to go.' She said.

James thanked her enthusiastically and prepared to leave but turned at the last moment, his hands an inch away from the door handle.

'Professor, maybe I could become the greatest Quidditch player of all time after I help you all defeat the death eaters.' He winked.

'Ask Black to stop giggling and tell him it's time for his session.' McGonagall spoke tightly as James bowed sarcastically and left.

Another one of her students, giving up a life of luxury to embrace one of pain.

So young to be fighting so many, she thought wearily as she visualized herself cheering for the greatest Chaser of all time, perhaps, James Potter; in a future never to come.