PREFACE and WARNINGS

This story changes things. And I don't mean this lightly.

I've taken characters from canon and I used them to serve my idea, and they have become something else. So you may find your favourite character doing things you don't approve of, and read opinions on them that you don't agree with. Just a disclaimer though: I am not trying to create a medium for my opinions. I'm just telling a story.

If you don't like these themes and concepts, please, don't read. Keep yourself happy. Read things that you'll enjoy.

If you are curious to see what I've done with this, welcome. Hope you'll enjoy the ride.

Trigger Warnings: [There won't be any further warnings] Strong Language. Sexual Situations. Violence. Mentions of Sexual Abuse*. Murder. Torture. Mentions of Addiction (Alcohol). Domestic Violence.

*To clarify; main characters (the Marauders) will not be the perpetrators of the mentioned sexual abuse. Sometimes that's a no-no for the readers, and wanted to clear that up.

Feel free to contact me for your questions from my ffnet profile or Tumblr (synoir)

Synoir, 2017

PROLOGUE

Remus Lupin lived in a tiny cottage up on a hill with his mother and father. The cottage was ten miles away from the nearest village, had two rooms, one bathroom, a living room and a small kitchen.

They were poor, Remus knew that, but he didn't really mind it until recently. After all, he didn't have any use for money himself. He was not allowed to go to outside anyway so he wouldn't be able to buy candy or books. His father and mother often talked about how they lived before him; they were respected and had a big house that Remus barely remembered. One day, one of his father's enemies found that big house and inflicted Remus with a curse, changing their lives forever. His father lost his reputation first, then his job and money and finally the big house. Remus didn't really remember how it came to be, but he knew, if you asked his father, he was the reason of it all. Remus didn't ask his father about it because, in his opinion, it was his father's fault to taunt a werewolf pack leader and not properly protect his son. The wolf in him believed, as the strongest of their pack, it was his responsibility, and Remus agreed. His opinion though didn't matter.

When he turned eleven and the impossible had happened and he, a werewolf, was accepted to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had heard his father wonder to his mother if Remus even deserved to learn how to use a wand. He wasn't sure if he hated his father before that or whether this was when he started to hate him. Remus knew that Lyall Lupin only gave in because of the insistence of school's headmaster Dumbledore. He idly wondered sometimes what he would have to do in return for this favour, after all, everything he gained in life was in return of something. He could only go to the market in the village with his mother if he didn't talk or touch anyone, he could only get dessert if he acted human (and to his father many things that Remus did was not) for a week, he could only read his father's books if he helped his mother with the cleaning; the list was endless.

Remus hated being poor only when Lyall Lupin took him to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies and didn't even allow him to browse any of the shops. Instead, they directly went to a second-hand store at the end of the alley and bought robes too big for him, books used too poorly, and equipment too worn out causing Remus to wonder if they would be safe to use. He hadn't made any fuss though, in case his father changed his mind.

His wand, at least, was new. A beautiful piece of art; eleven inches, cypress wood with a core of dragon heartstring... It was the most beautiful thing Remus owned, and better yet it was completely his: it chose him. He, Remus Lupin the werewolf, was a wizard.

In the week that followed Remus read his schoolbooks front to back; he memorised potions and their ingredients, practised wand movements and incantations, learnt everything he could about magical history, astronomy and care of plants. He loved reading and learning even before that, but now he was going to use his knowledge and that alone was enough to fill him with a brand new excitement he never knew before. Remus was a logical kid, and he knew he must have been lacking in social skills, so the idea of being in a school full of people that he would have to share living spaces with unnerved him. He would have to avoid having friends unless they noticed he was a werewolf, but he didn't care. He still would be the best wizard that he can and surpass his father who kept on reminding him even if he graduated from Hogwarts he wouldn't have a place in society. What his father didn't understand though, was that Remus didn't need society. He didn't need anyone if he was better than them all.

James Potter always knew that one day he would go to Hogwarts. Still, when an owl brought his acceptance letter his mother Euphemia celebrated it with a big chocolate cake, and his father bought him a brand new Quidditch pitch model. James loved his gift, even though he didn't understand the logic behind it. After all, he was leaving for Hogwarts soon and wouldn't be able to take it with him. Not that he complained, no, he was too busy planning game strategies and watching the little figures on tiny broomsticks play it out. His father would watch him by the door of his room, with a glass of brandy in his hand, as James shouted directions to the tiny figures on broomsticks that flew around the miniature pitch and proudly state that his son was such a Gryffindor. James wasn't sure what loving Quidditch had got anything to do with Gryffindor, but he was used to it. According to his father, many things were related to Gryffindor. Yes, he was used to it, but it still worried James. Not that he was a coward. No, James knew he could very well be a Gryffindor, and he was almost sure that he was no Ravenclaw, nor a Hufflepuff. But sometimes he imagined being a Slytherin and he liked the idea. After all, James was not his father.

Fleamont Potter was a genius of potions, but he sold the rights to his great invention and never tried to invent something else. James figured if the hair potion that he hated with all his being (and that his mother insisted on using on him) made that much money, what else his father could do. But, no, his father lacked ambition and that disturbed James. It also disturbed James that his father seemed to think that cunning was a bad trait; that it somehow made a person unapproachable while some of the best things in life required cunning: a good prank, a winning quidditch strategy, knowing when and who to ask when you wanted something. What disturbed him the most though, was that his father kept telling him Potters were always Gryffindors, as if he wouldn't be a Potter if he was placed anywhere else.

These worries, however important for him, were not in the forefront of his mind when his parents took him to the Diagon Alley to shop for his school supplies. After buying the necessary equipment his father gave him a bag of galleons and a bag with featherlight charm and told him to finish shopping by himself; they were tired. So while his parents sat down on a coffee parlour James went to buy his books. Along with his school books, James bought a book called Curses and Counter-Curses even though the spells in it were probably above his skill level, and another called Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks. When he saw the title Best Quidditch Matches of the Century he added that to the pile as well. James was used to being by himself and doing things on his own, he preferred it in fact. His parents were usually too distracted or couldn't keep up with him. When he went to pick his wand by himself though, he wished someone was there by his side. A mahogany wand with a core of phoenix feathers had chosen him and James never felt prouder his entire life. 'Great for transfiguration, but I doubt you will have problems with any kind of magic with this one,' Mr Ollivander had said.

He looked at his wand, by himself and he grinned. He was a wizard now, and he didn't need anyone to witness it for it to be true.

Blacks, in Sirius' opinion, were not a small family, and the Friday before his journey to Hogwarts they all met in his parents' townhouse at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Everyone was dressed in fine dress robes and while the ladies enjoyed his mother Walburga's garden full of poisonous flowers, the gentlemen were talking in the smoking room. Sirius knew that this get together was in his name only on the surface, Blacks met like this quite often. Still Orion and Walburga Black were keen on any opportunity that would allow them to be the hosts, for the honour usually went to Sirius' grandparents Lord and Lady Black who resided in the Blackhall in Wales.

Being a member of the House of Black meant that you were the top of the Wizarding World; it meant that you were not merely pure, but also nobility among them. And being the first-born son of your generation meant that you were the Prince of the Wizarding Britain -and that was Sirius Black: the promise of the continuation of their Ancient and Most Noble House. Due to that both Sirius and his little brother Regulus were highly cherished additions to their family. His uncle Alphard didn't have any children, while his uncle Cygnus only had daughters. When Orion and Walburga Black's union gave the family two sons the Blacks took a relaxed breath. It had never taken that long to sire scions before.

Bellatrix, the eldest daughter of Cygnus and Druella, especially doted on the Black Brothers, and Sirius loved his animated cousin in return. She had insisted that she should buy his school supplies for him from her allowance, and nearly had a row with Orion. Sirius' father thought it was unbecoming to allow someone else provide for his child; it was his responsibility. In the end, his father allowed Bellatrix to take Sirius to Diagon Alley but everything that they would buy for his school needs would be paid by him. Bellatrix and her little sister Narcissa, who was a fifth year in Hogwarts and needed to shop for school herself, took Sirius and Regulus to the alley for a trip that quickly turned out to be one of the best days of his life. After buying his school supplies, Bellatrix took them to Obscurus Books and bought any and every book the brothers wanted. Yes, Regulus was much more excited about that, but Bellatrix took it to herself that Sirius should work hard on his magic since he had a wand now, so she added many books on dark curses and charms herself. After tha, they had lunch and ice cream, and during that Narcissa gave Sirius a detailed report of every Slytherin that was in school right now, and what were their strengths and weaknesses. She had an innate talent when it came to conversation so even the potentially boring topic enraptured their attention. Then Bellatrix held Sirius' hand and took him to the Eeylop's Owl Emporium, and bought him a grey great horned owl, all the while promising Regulus to get him any pet he wanted next year, promise.

On the 31st of August, Regulus tried to make Sirius promise to write him every other day, and after long negotiations it was decided that Sirius would write him twice a week. That day Sirius also got invited to his father's study, like many times before.

"Blacks are always Slytherins," Orion said, "do you know why?" Sirius wasn't sure but he suspected it was because of their noble blood, or at least that was what his mother always said. But his father explained it differently. He said that a Slytherin could have any trait of the other houses, but above all it had the ability to control those traits. Bravery, loyalty and intelligence meant little if you didn't have self-control over them.

"And we must, Sirius, be the masters of ourselves."

When Peter Pettigrew got his Hogwarts letter his mother cried; his father gave him is congratulations, accompanied with a rare smile; and Peter felt accomplished. It didn't matter if he never was a successful student; that didn't bother him; after all he already proved his worth. He was happy. His accidental magic was never showy, and it came a bit late. His father always complained about it. Peter knew that his mother had a squib sister; only mentioned in whispers in their house, like it was some sort of dark secret. Peter thought that maybe it was. He also knew that she was afraid her son would be one too. But the Hogwarts letter proved that he wasn't; and that made his mother extremely happy. This meant she would bake a pie or a cake as she did whenever she was feeling particularly cheery. His mother's baking was one of the rare things that created an almost festive environment in the Pettigrew household.

She didn't bake only once though. Strawberry shortcake, chocolate tart, blueberry muffins... Everyday from the day he got his letter until the 1st of September she baked something else. Suffice to say Peter was having the time of his life; never before was he the cause of such happiness.

His father was the one that took him to Diagon Alley instead of his mother and Peter relished in this newfound attention from him. Sure, Duncan Pettigrew was not the most entertaining man; he rarely smiled and he criticized everything, and most of all he criticized Peter, but he walked like he was the most important person around, and Peter believed him. He believed, when he bowed to two beautiful young ladies accompanied by two boys of his age -all beautiful looking; enough to make Peter jealous of their beauty; Peter thought it was because his father was a gentleman. One of the boys looked at Peter and grinned before continuing his walk, and Peter believed that he was respected. He felt important; as his father.

They first bought his wand; his father thought it was the most important purchase in their list. When Mr. Ollivander offered him a redwood wand with a dragon heartstring core Peter looked at his father with a smile on his face. The wand felt warm, and there was a nice tingling sensation from the wand spreading through him. The wand had chosen him, and his father looked proud of him. It was the first time Peter saw that expression from his father.

They dutifully continued to their shopping. They visited the Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment and Slug & Jiggers Apothecary. They even had a lunch together in Diagon Alley after buying his robes from Madam Malkin's, and his father let him order whatever he wanted instead ordering in his stead as he has done whenever they went out to eat as a family. Being treated like this was new to Peter and he enjoyed it. His father told him that he was a wizard now; and Peter forgot all his resentment towards him that he held before, like the feeling never existed in the first place. That gave him a little sparkle of courage and he asked his father if he could have a pet.

His father first told him that he could have a cat, but cats seemed to dislike Peter. Just as he was losing hope to ever get a pet his father told him that 'perhaps they should go to Eeylop's for an owl instead.' Peter didn't expect his father to ever get him an owl; they were more expensive than cats, and the family already had an old owl named Primus.

They found a little owl that seemed to love it when Peter petted her head. When they went back to their little house, Peter looked around his room full of new things and a beautiful owl he smiled at himself. He spent his days playing with his owl; which he named Effie; and helping her mother with her baking streak.

Life was good and he couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts.

He was happy.

Many thanks to Calebski who is the alpha-reader of this story. Her help and support is invaluable, and made it possible for me to begin posting this story.

Special thanks to JJ25601 for beta-reading the Prologue back in February and encouraging me to continue working on this huge undertaking!