"Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know." -Ernest Hemingway

"The Knight Bus?" asked Harry and Lily in unison. "What's that?" Lily questioned, confused.

"It's a bus that takes wizards where they need to go. You just have to flag it down with your wand hand, and it'll appear, no matter where you are." Sirius explained. He answered Lily's unasked question. "I ran away from home after fifth year. I couldn't apparate so I didn't know where to go, but I happened to trip and then there it was."

James clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder, remembering the night when Sirius had showed up on his doorstep, trunk in hand. He thought he'd have to beg to get his parents to let Sirius live there, but they welcomed him with open arms, a fact for which James would always be grateful. He frowned, realizing that if Harry had no living relatives, this had to mean his parents would pass away in the next few years as well. He was all too aware of their fragile state of health. He shook off the thoughts, focusing on the current situation.

Harry looked at Lily. "I guess you'd better be getting this on, then," he said, and handed his mother the silvery material.

She locked eyes with James briefly. He found it increasingly difficult to look her in the eyes for any period of time as the night wore on. He broke eye contact as she and Peter draped Harry's cloak (or rather, James's old cloak) upon themselves. Soon, only four of the six teenagers were visible. James soon pulled out the cloak he had in his robes and covered Remus and himself with it, and another two of their number disappeared from sight, though James had to strain his neck so he could keep his feet covered.

Harry looked at Sirius expectantly. The older boy stuck out his wand hand and waited.

BANG!

The noise startled all of them, and Remus bumped into James under the cloak, causing him to emit a small yelp. A large, purple triple-decker bus appeared in front of them, to the shock of everyone save for Sirius. Though the other Marauders were aware of the Knight Bus, they'd never actually been on it themselves. A young man wearing a purple conductor's uniform, who appeared around James's age, stepped off of the bus.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you to wherever you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening." he said, in a manner that seemed very practiced. After his introduction, he immediately dropped his professional demeanour. "Well, c'mon then, get on."

Sirius stepped forward, but Harry's eyes seemed to linger on something in the bushes. "'Choo lookin' at?" asked Stan.

Harry shook his head. "Er, nothing. Must have been my imagination..."

The cloaked portion of the group hurried onto the bus, all bumping into one another as they went through the doors. Sirius and Harry stepped on board with Harry's trunk and owl cage in hand, Stan coming on behind them. They stood on the bus for a moment, before Stan questioned suddenly, "Woss that on your 'ead?"

Sirius's eyes darted to Harry, who quickly flattened his fringe to cover up the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. When Harry muttered a hasty "Nothing," to the inquiry, Stan next said, "Woss your name?"

James, remembering the reason they'd been able to spot Harry as a wizard, panicked. If Harry said his real name, Stan would probably go blurting it out, and they did not need Ministry officials around them when they were trying not to get themselves arrested.

Harry quickly blurted, "Neville Longbottom,"

The suspicion did not leave Stan's face. "Where you two 'eaded? We can go anywhere you like, long's it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater."

"How much would it be to get to London?" Sirius asked, reaching a hand into his pocket. Silently, James thanked Merlin that it was a Hogsmeade weekend.

"Eleven Sickles," replied Stan, "but for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen your get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."

Both Sirius and Harry extracted the money from the respective places. Stan led them down the bus, which held, to most of the teens shock, not seats, but brass bedsteads. He showed them where their beds would be, right beside the driver as it happened, and the invisible parties followed.

Sirius sat down on his bed and muttered through the corner of his mouth, "Sit on a bed and hold on tight." It seemed that both groups had heard him, because when Stan said, "Take 'er away, Ern," and another incredible BANG occurred, the cloak did not slip off Remus and James, nor Lily and Peter. Harry had fallen back on his bed, and was watching, stunned as he stared out the window of the bus. They were now on a completely different street than Magnolia Crescent.

Stan seemed to find Harry's surprise enjoyable. "This is where we was before you flagged us down," he explained. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar," replied the driver, Ern. He continued driving, and after a moment said, "Best go wake up Madame Marsh, Stan. We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute."

Stan walked away from the front of the bus and disappeared up a narrow staircase. He came back soon enough, a nauseous-looking witch in tow. "'Ere you go, Madame Marsh." Stan said pleasantly, as the bus jerked once more. (The hidden time-travelers were quite lucky, for their grip on the bed was still strong.) As the woman went unsteadily off the bus, Stan threw her bag to her, the doors shutting immediately after. The bus took off once more.

It appeared the conductor had grown bored with Harry, because he next turned on Sirius. He examined the seventeen-year-old's face, and apparently came to a conclusion. "You know who you look like, mate?" he asked. Sirius shook his head. "Sirius Black."

Sirius paled and said in a somewhat smothered voice, "Er, you know him then?"

Stan laughed. "Mate, who doesn't know him? Where you been?"

James was holding his breath underneath his cloak. He wanted to think that the reason Stan knew of his friend was a positive one, but hope was scarce in his mind. The reason everyone knew of him was because he was dead, and it could just as well be a horrid reason that applied for Sirius. "Not in England, recently. Went on a vacation to America." lied Sirius. "So, what's going on with Sirius Black?"

"You oughta read the papers more." Stan pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet and unfurled it. On the front of it was a large photograph gaunt-faced, ratty, long-haired man who could be recognized, if you looked hard enough, to be Sirius Orion Black.

Effing hell, thought James, cringing. Stan handed the front page to Sirius, and being sat next to him, both Remus and James could clearly see the headline: BLACK STILL AT LARGE. They all read onward as fast as they could.

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner

ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding

capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

"We are doing all we can to recapture Black,"

said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this

morning, "and we beg the magical community to

remain calm."

Fudge has been criticized by some members of

the International Federation of Walrocks for in-

forming the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

"Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an

irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to

Anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have

the Prime Minister's assurance that he wil not

breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone.

And let's face it – who'd believe him if he did?"

While Muggles have have been told that Black is car-

rying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use

to kill each other), the magical community lives in

fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when

Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

James refused to believe it. He knew his best friend, and he was not like the bloodthirsty members of the Black family. He was not. Sirius would never take an innocent life, not in his lifetime, much less thirteen. He had to have been wrongly convicted. Yes, that was it, his friend was wrongly put it Azkaban, and he was so frustrated that no one would believe him that he escaped. There was simply no other answer. But he realized with a sinking feeling that perhaps James had met the easier fate of the two. Was it not easier to die in a single instant than slowly be driven mad by soul-sucking creatures? He turned his gaze to Sirius.

Sirius was shaking, the paper he held barely staying in his hands. His face was completely puce and he looked as if he might be sick. James wondered in the back of his mind if he had looked like this earlier that night. The longer-haired boy's mouth was slightly ajar, as if there was so much he wanted to say, but he was at a loss for words.

Harry was watching the reaction of the older boy with a furrowed brow. He held out his hand for the paper and Sirius handed it to him shakily. As soon as the paper was out his hands, he grasped the edge of the bed tightly, his knuckles white.

James watched the face of the boy who would one day be his son as he read the article. His face seemed to display more and more worry as he read on. Harry frowned deeply and gave the newspaper back to Stan.

"Wossamater, mate?" Stan inquired, looking at Sirius's face. "You don' look too well. The paper got you scared?"

Sirius muttered, "Something like that."

"'Choo say your name was again?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. The uneducated young man was much too observant for James's liking. Too many questions, with not enough answers prepared.

"Regulus," blurted Sirius, clearly not thinking. For all he knew, his brother could've died, as well. Or, could be so well known in the magical community that it was much too suspicious to share his name. But, the same argument might also be applied to any other name he used. And perhaps his resemblance to, well, himself, was too strong to be passed off as random.

Stan did not seem to find fault with the borrowed name. "You oughta be scared, Regulus. Black is mad, 'e is. 'E murdered all those Muggles, an' a wizard, in broad daylight. Witnesses an' all. 'E was woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo."

If James thought that Sirius could not look any more horrified and sick, he was proven wrong after Stan's statement. He was absolutely white, save for the tinge of green his cheeks held. "Was he now?" Sirius said, his voice barely there.

"Yeah," Stan responded, nodding. "Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say. Anyway, when little 'Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo–"

Harry flinched and flattened his fringe once more.

"– All You-Know-'Oos supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard 'e thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over. They cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blashed 'alf the street apart. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan asked, his voice in a low and dramatic tone.

"What?" said Harry.

"Laughed." Stan told them. "Jus' stood their an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em, quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is head off."

Sirius's eyes were bulging out of his head. "I think I'm getting bus-sick." he declared, grabbing an empty sweet packet from his robes and proceeding to vomit loudly. He wiped his mouth on the back off his hand. He must have realized he would be able to use his wand now that Harry was in the presence of many overage wizards, because Sirius vanished the packet. Sirius let out a shakey breath.

"'E usually get sick on these?" Stan murmured to Harry. Harry shook his head. "Y'know, they 'ad a job of coverin' the incident up, din' they, Ern?" said Stan. "'Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?"

"Gas explosion," grunted Ernie.

"An' now he's out," Stan continued, looking at the horrid picture of Sirius on the front cover. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh Ern?"

James knew well about the dementors of Azkaban. He'd encountered a dementor before. There'd been Death Eaters loose in Diagon Alley (who'd started one of the largest attacks of Voldemort's so far) and James had been there, summer after his sixth year, for supplies. After most of the underage wizards had been evacuated, the Ministry gave word for the release of dementor to kiss any surviving Death Eaters. He had been there, and he had to cast his patronus, the same form as his animagus form, to stop himself from being kissed. The things he remembered... he never wanted to see a dementor again.

Ernie shuddered. "Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."

Stan put the paper away, and the other teenagers on the bus –at least the ones James could see– looked terrible. Harry looked as if he were considering how it might be if he were sent to Azkaban, Sirius looked as if his world had lost meaning, and under the cloak, Remus had the most horrified expression on his face.

James was not better off. He felt that if he had some food in his stomach, it would surely come back up. He still didn't want to think of his best friend as a murderer... even if all evidence pointed to the contrary. Stan seemed to know the entire story, and it sounded like he did it. Hell, if it were anyone else but one of the Marauders, he would probably have no doubt in his mind that they had. But this was Sirius, the bloke who'd become an animagus for his friend, who laughed like he barked, who'd do anything to protect his friends. But, it was also Sirius, the bloke who'd sent Snape down the Whomping Willow to face Remus, who had times where no one could get through to him, who was raised to be a pure-blood supremacist until Hogwarts.

He honestly didn't know what to think.

And he hated it. He should've been able to say without a doubt that his mate was innocent. Somehow, the smallest seed of doubt was trying to spread and grow. James shook off all his thoughts and repeated stubbornly, unwilling to ever think ill of his best friend, He is innocent.

Stan seemed to remember that the two passengers he could see had paid for hot chocolate. He went and poured some out, but managed to spill Harry's on him when the bus jerked wildly. Sirius drank his own, and a minimal amount of colour returned to his cheeks.

"Breathe," James said, low enough that Sirius and Remus would be the only ones to hear him. "That isn't you. Just breathe."

As the bus continued on into the night, witches and wizards from all over the bus left again and again. Many were looking extremely tired and in sleep-wear. None looked too upset that they were to leave the Knight Bus. Soon, the only ones in the bus were James, Lily, Remus, Peter, Sirius and Harry.

"Right then, Neville, Regulus," Stan announced, clapping his hands, "whereabouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley," said Harry immediately.

"Righto," replied Stan, "'Old tight, then..."

Everyone did as the conductor instructed. A moment later, BANG! They were speeding down the street, everything in the Knight Bus's path moving aside to make way for the triple-decker monstrosity. James was wondering what they would do once they could to Diagon Alley. Perhaps Harry and Sirius could book a room, they could sort out their appearances... and try to find a way to get home. Could they ask Dumbledore? Would he even be at Hogwarts during the holidays? He had to have a home, hadn't he? James did not know.

The bus jerked to a stop once more as Ern stomped a foot on the brake pedal. The doors of the Knight Bus opened to show the Leaky Cauldron, a run-down pub so many witches and wizards were familiar with. It led to the entrance of Diagon Alley, and Muggles were unable to see it.

Harry and Sirius thanked the driver and Stan helped with Harry's trunk again. Harry stepped off the bus and tried to bid goodbye to Stan, but the conductor seemed to lose focus. He was staring at something that could be seen in the shadows of the entrance to the pub.

"There you are, Harry," said a voice, and James's heart stopped for a moment.

A man came up behind Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. James could tell that this man was a Ministry man, and an important one too, by his demeanour. He wore a pinstriped cloak. It was clear to Stan who this man was, because he shouted, "Blimey! Ern, come 'ere. Come 'ere!"

Harry looked up at the man who'd grasped his shoulder, and looked immediately frightened.

Stan got off the bus. "What didja call Neville, Minister?" he asked, excitement in his voice.

Minister? James thought, his eyes widening. Oh, bollocks.

The Minister, looking tired and cold, frown. "Neville," he repeated, his brow furrowing. "This is Harry Potter."

Double bollocks.

"I knew it!" said Stan joyfully. "Ern! Ern! Guess 'oo Neville is, Ern! He's 'Arry Potter! I can see 'is scar!" He gestured to the mark on Harry's forehead, which hand been revealed more when he jumped off the bus. Harry appeared very self-conscious and nervous.

"Yes," the Minister said testily, "well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now..." He led the young boy into the pub.

James and Remus exchanged looks underneath the cloak. They nudged Sirius, just as Stan said, "Ain't you gettin' off the bus, too, Reg?"

"Right," responded Sirius. He waited a moment for the people in the invisibility cloaks to get off first, then stepped off. The Knight Bus shot off into the night.

"Should we follow them?" came the voice of Peter from just past Sirius's right shoulder.

Lily's voice replied from that general direction as well, "I don't think so. From what I saw of that article, Black might be a little recognizable to someone from the Ministry, even if he is younger," Her logic was sound, no matter how much no one wanted to accept it. "Black, you better stay out of sight. Maybe we could fit you under one of these if we crouched...?" she trailed off, not sounding too optimistic.

"We can't," Remus said, shaking his head, though no one but James could see it, "Padfoot, trade places with me under the cloak."

Sirius did not look happy. "Is that really our only option?" he asked, frowning.

"It's the best one we have," replied Remus. "Prongs and Lily can't do it, and Wormtail can be a bit nervous during pressure-filled situations. I'm our safest bet." He looked to either side of him carefully, and after determining no one was watching them, he slipped out from under the cloak. He pointed to the spot where James was standing, invisible.

James lifted the cloak slightly for a moment, and Sirius slipped underneath. "Should we follow them now?" Sirius said, eyes darting towards the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. He seemed to be just as uncomfortable as James was about leaving Harry alone with the Minister. For one, he was his kid, seventeen or not. For two, he was only thirteen. How good of a liar could he be? Would he blurt something out to the man about what had happened that night? It also seemed that the man was looking for Harry, and that could mean that he was in trouble for his underage sorcery.

"I think it's best we wait out here for now." Remus stated carefully. "We shouldn't let any of us be seen for a long period of time."

A feminine sigh was heard. "I don't know if I agree. I mean, it was a little different when Black was visible, because he's more recognizable. I know it's more logical to stay here, but I want to protect Harry." Lily finished, a little more determined than in the beginning of her statement.

"I agree with Lily," James put in, all for protecting the younger boy.

Remus was shaking his head before James finished speaking. "You're letting your emotions cloud your better judgment. I understand that you want to be there for him, but it's not a good decision to go after them. We can get Harry to book a room, and we'll be able to sort out our problems there. We can't rush headfirst into things without thinking, especially not in a situation like this."

Peter spoke up, "I agree with Remus on this one. Safer, here."

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't like this situation at all. He looked up into the sky, which was beginning to become light again. He saw a snowy white owl fly out a window and down to where they stood.

It landed on Remus's shoulder, and stuck out its leg. The sandy-haired boy removed the note, and proceeded to read it aloud quietly. "'I'm in room eleven. See you soon, Harry.'" he quoted.

Relief spread through James, feeling somewhat like the buzz from firewhiskey.

The owl flew off, and they all hurried into the pub. Tom, the same landlord as James had seen the previous summer (though the man had not been quite as toothless), was behind the bar, but luckily did not notice Remus hurrying up the stairs with his unseen companions. They walked until they saw a door with a brass number eleven on it, and Remus knocked and murmured, "Harry?"

The door was pulled open, and Harry looked just as thankful to see Remus as James was to see Harry. "Are they with you?" he asked, referring to the others.

"Yeah," Remus answered, stepping into the room.

There were some shuffling noises heard, and when everyone was finally inside, Remus shut the door. They pulled the cloaks off themselves, detectable once more. "So," said James, "I really think that–" He yawned. He tried once more. "Uh, I really think that–" again, he yawned.

Sirius blinked sleepily. "Maybe we should leave the planning until the morning," he said, swaying a little.

"I second that," Lily said, rubbing her eyes. "It'll be easier for us to talk when we're more– when we're more coherent."

Harry yawned loudly as well. "It has been a very long and weird night." These were the last words he said before falling back on his bed and falling asleep.

James, too tired to transfigure anything, laid down his robes and curled up on the floor. The others followed his lead before drifting off.

And the next thing they knew, it was morning.

James sat up and stretched a little, feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. Memories from the previous night were at the forefront of his mind. It was all giving him a headache. He frowned deeply. "Please tell me that all this time traveling, having a kid with a bird who hates me, no way to get home crap was all a dream," he said to Sirius, who was also getting up.

"'Fraid not, mate," Sirius muttered tiredly. "Please tell me I'm going to be able to get a few more hours of sleep,"

"Not happening, Padfoot," interjected Remus, having been woken up by the chatter. The werewolf ran a hand through his hair, perhaps a habit he'd picked up from James. "We need to figure some things out. You won't be able to sleep for a while." His tone of voice made it clear that he regretted this fact very much. They all did, really.

Sirius groaned and pulled a face. "God, I hate the future."

"'Least you're not dead," grumbled James crankily.

He shot his friend a withering look. "Yes, because being a crazed mass-murderer is so much better," Sirius snapped sardonically.

Remus intervened before the two irritable boys could argue any further. "Wake up Lily and Wormtail, would you? Try not to wake up Harry, the kid could use a little more sleep."

"So could we," said Sirius in an undertone. He did as told, though, reaching over and prodding the plump boy near him. At the lack of response, he shook him a little. Finally, feeling a bit frustrated, he pulled out his wand and mumbled, "Augamenti."

A jet of water shot out of the wand and hit Peter in the face. "Hey!" he protested, wiping his dripping face. He moved to a sitting position, glaring at his friend. "What was that for?"

"For being a lazy-arse who won't get up, that's what," he responded.

Off to the side, James was trying his luck with attempting to get Lily up.

"Evans. Evans," he repeated, nudging her. "Get up, would you? C'mon, make my dismal life the smallest bit easier and wake up for me. There's a girl, come on." The redhead was slowly coming to, thankfully. He didn't know how long he could keep up at this without using a hex to wake her up.

"Huh, Potter?" she questioned, blinking repeatedly. "What time is it? How long did I sleep in? Are we late for class?"

James sighed, rubbing his temples. "Look around you, Evans. There's no classes; we're not at Hogwarts. We're not even in the same bloody decade. We're on the uncomfortable floor of a room in the Leaky Cauldron, sitting here with my irritable-but-conscious-mates, and our unconscious-soon-to-be-son." he explained to her, his headache worsening.

"Merlin, I was hoping it wasn't real," Lily put her head in her hands.

"As were we all," James said as he stood. "Unfortunately, some sick twisted fate out there seems to hate us, and here we are, utterly screwed over by them again." He looked up, cursing whatever higher power decided that the way to punish him for being a git for ages was to put him through this. Really, did hexing a few Hufflepuffs account for all this? Maybe this wasn't a punishment, just a cruel joke that the cosmos were pulling on him, laughing their arses off at his pain.

Lily stood up, and all the Marauders and her gathered together to conference. James transfigured their robes into chairs. They sat in them and began to talk.

"I think we should contact Dumbledore," stated James firmly. "He'll know what to do." (He hoped.)

Remus gave him a sceptical look. "Do you know where he lives? Do you know if we can contact him if he's at Hogwarts? Do you even think he'll believe us? Do really think it's the sort of thing we should be writing in a letter, that could easily be intercepted by anyone?"

"Okay, Mr. Pessimism, you come up with a better idea, then," he retorted, getting annoyed.

"Fine, I will," replied the other. "I think we should change our appearances, so we can't be recognized. We can get some robes and the like after withdrawing more gold from our old Gringotts accounts, if they're still around. And they should be, goblins don't tend to care about wizard quarries. We'll wait it out until the first of September where we can board the Hogwarts Express and get to meet with Dumbledore in person." Remus planned out aloud.

"Sounds alright to me," said Lily, nodding. "I don't particularly fancy the idea of spending three weeks here, but it seems the most rational path to take."

The others grunted their agreement, however unwillingly. The voices must have been loud enough to reach Harry's ears, for he sat up in his bed and looked at the older wizards. "Hi," he greeted, fatigued.

"Hey," Lily answered softly, "we've just been sorting a few things out. How did that meeting with the Minister last night go?" she inquired curiously.

James was grateful she'd asked that question. It had been very nerve-wracking to watch Harry walk away with that man, not knowing if or when he would come back. It was the closest he'd come to feeling, ugh, he hated the word, paternal. He should be worrying about exams, girls and Quidditch, not death, time, and a son. He expected to worry about those things eventually, but he was thinking at the age of thirty upwards, but now it turned out he would not live that long.

Harry appeared to think of last night. "It was... surprising," he began, "I expected Fudge –that's the Minister's name, Cornelius Fudge– to punish me, expel me, maybe even send me to Azkaban, because I've already had a warning about underage sorcery. He just acted like he was happy that I was safe, said no harm done, told me to stay here and not to go wandering off." He shrugged, as if this explanation was just as odd to him as it was to them.

"Strange," murmured Remus. "They're usually at least a little more strict about these sorts of things."

"I know, I thought so too," agreed Harry. "But apparently not this time. So, what did you guys decide on?"

"We're going to change our appearances, so we can't be recognized, and then wait it out here, and get some more clothing and board the Hogwarts express come September first. I suppose we should come up with some sort of back-story as well, for the time being."

Lily thought about it for a moment. "Anyone from Hogwarts asks, we were all home-schooled and live in the same neighbourhood in England." she decided. "If they ask us our names... well, I suppose we're going to have to come up with some of those as well. Something similar to our own, so we won't forget them, but far enough no one suspects anything. Lizzie, for myself, maybe? That name is common enough."

"John, for me, I suppose." Remus said.

James mulled it over. He debated what he might call himself, and settled on something. "I think I'll go with Charlus. I look a lot like my dad, so I'm fairly used to people calling out to me using that name." He'd been to the Ministry on several occasions, and from a distance, he seemed a carbon copy of his father. Many a time, a frantic member of his dad's squad would approach, calling out to him, not realizing that the person they were rushing towards was not their leader.

"I think I might stick with Regulus. Same sort of reasons as James, I look a fair amount like my brother." he added, scowling a little. Clearly he did not like the similarity to his soon-to-be (or maybe current, at this point) Death Eater brother. He cared for his younger sibling, James had no doubt, but hated the fact that he was not strong enough to make the decision that Sirius had made the moment the sorting hat shouted 'Gryffindor!'

Peter seemed stuck. "Uh... hm, maybe– no, that wouldn't work. I don't know." He frowned. "Perry." he said decidedly.

James pulled out his wand and looked down at it. "Now for our appearances," murmured the Head Boy.

"Wait," Lily said, taking out her own wand as well. "Are we doing physical transfiguration, or charms? Personally, I don't fancy the idea of being permanantly scarred if something were to go wrong with the spell. A charm might be better."

"Then charms it is," agreed Remus. "Lily, you're our resident Charms expert. Care to have a go at it?"

Lily nodded and walked over to the mirror. She lifted her wand and non-verbally cast her charms. She pointed her wand at her hair, and her vibrant auburn was now a dark brown. She pointed it at her eyes, and her eyes went from a too-bright green to a faded blue. She made her nose slightly different, and her lips seemed fuller as well. When she properly faced James, he thought she did not look much like herself. "So, shall you all be doing your own charms, or will I?"

They all decided to do their own, due to the fact it was a little uncomfortable to have someone else decide what their appearances would be. Remus now donned red hair, while Peter's head was covered in black locks and James and Sirius had changed theirs to blonde, the latter's being much shorter than usual.

Sirius prodded James's new charmed-to-look-flat hair. "Weird," he muttered.

"Oi, stop that," said James, ducking out of his friend's grasp. He looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was lighter, his nose was shorter, and his eyes were green, instead of the normal hazel. He felt as if he were looking at a stranger. He still wore his glasses, though, because he couldn't possibly see without them. Looking behind him at Harry, he thought that no one would make the connection between he and his future kid.

Peter cleared his throat. "Uh, I've got a question. Will we be sleeping on Harry's floor for the next three weeks? Are we getting rooms, or transfiguring beds, or what?" he asked, looking around at everyone.

Remus looked thoughtful. "Good question. I suppose we can book rooms. Three, I suppose. James and Sirius can share, you and I can, Pete, and Lily would get her own, being, uh, that she is, er, a girl, and needs her... privacy." He glanced at Lily awkwardly. She seemed suddenly aware that she was the only female of the group. "We can do that when we go downstairs."

"Alright, now that we've got everything straight, I reckon we're set to leave." James declared, clapping his hands.

They all agreed and headed down the stairs, discreetly. Sirius approached the landlord, Tom, the same one from their time. He sorted out the rooms, while the others waited for him. Soon enough, they were all past the magical entrance and shuffling down Diagon Alley. They decided to split up to their preferred locations, and meet back and Florean Fortescue's in an hour to go to Gringotts.

James was going to go to Flourish and Botts to see if there happened to be a book that could explain how to reverse the spell, when a small hand settled on his shoulder. He turned around to find the newly transformed Lily. He looked down at her hand and gave her a curious look. "I'd like to talk to you," she explained.

"Sure, go ahead," He gestured for her to continue.

She shook her head. "Not here... Charlus. Somewhere where we can't be overheard." Lily glanced are around them on the crowded streets. She pulled him into the noisiest shop she could find, which happened to be a joke store, and led him into a secluded corner.

James couldn't help himself. "You know, if you wanted to meet me in a dark place, all you had to do was ask," he blurted out before he could thnk.

"Don't do that," she murmured with a frown. "I want to talk to you about... everything that's happened. I mean, last night we found out we got married, and had a baby when we barely speak, and if we do it ends with an argument!"

"That's hardly fair," James found himself protesting, "We haven't argued all this month."

She gave a small laugh. "Potter, a month of managing to ignore each other, save for our duties, hardly makes us friends, or even acquaintaces for that matter." Lily looked out at the other people in the shop. There were many laughing, smiling faces and small children holding up glowing, flashing and loud objects all around them. She chose not to meet his eyes as she spoke. "It's just... I'm finding this all a little hard to process, and I imagine you are too. We had to have gotten married right out of school... it doesn't seem like our opinions could change so much over the course of a few months."

Mine wouldn't, he thought, somewhat bitterly. I'd still be feeling the same way I do for you now. "It is a bit overwhelming." he answered instead.

"Can you believe that when we go back, we'll only get four more years of life? Four more years to live, to learn, to make a difference. God, it's scary. I'm afraid that by the day my time comes, I won't have lived enough. Do you get what I mean?" She faced him once more, an imploring look on her face.

"I do," said James softly. He moved closer to her. "It feels as though four years is such a short time. That we won't be able to experience life. Life as a young adult, life after war, life with a family," he added the last part even more quietly. "It's horrid, knowing your future. Knowing that this is where your path will take you, no matter how you feel about the outcome. I mean, when I thought about the future, y'know, after the war, I imagined it differently. I imagined playing Quidditch professionally, maybe, and being with a girl for years, and finally settling down somewhere in my late twenties. And kids, I won't pretend I want a kid right now, but I thought that maybe someday I'd have a boy of my own to teach Quidditch to. Turns out I don't even get the chance."

Lily looked down, biting for lip. For one horrific moment, James thought she was going to cry. But she looked back up with him, her eyes dry, if a little unfocused. "I don't want to die," she told him in a barely audible voice.

James touched her shoulder. "Neither do I," he replied.

A voice behind them cleared their throat. "I'm afraid if you want to do that, you'll have to take it outside. We've got kids here, you know," they added the last part with a tinge of amusement.

The two jumped slightly and looked at a middle-aged, brown-haired man wearing a flashing, spinning and honking hat. This must have been the owner of the voice. He smiled at them knowingly, for reasons which James did not immediately understand. Then it came to him. A boy and a girl, alone, in a dark, secluded corner, with very little space between them.

James went pink, especially around the ears, as he stuttered out, "Oh, no sir– we weren't– er, that is, we aren't– um, doing that?" For an exceptionally good liar, he found himself struggling to deliver the truth.

The man winked. "No need to be embarrassed, son. I was young and in love once too. Just try to keep it outside the shop. Don't want the mums here to have to cover any of the little ones' eyes, hm?" he smiled cheerfully and skipped away to help a small boy who was attempting to reach a shelf much taller than the size of the boy.

James and Lily exchanged a look. He saw that she was equally flushed, if not more so. She pointed to the door. "Er, maybe we should go?" she suggested.

He nodded, unable to trust his voice. They hurried out of the shop and back onto the street. Once they were a decent distance away from the shop, he murmured, "That was incredibly embarrassing."

Lily nodded, still looking flustered. "Very much so. I can't believe he thought that..." She darted a glance at the shop.

James made a sound of agreement. "I'm in the mood for an ice cream, you in?" he asked daringly. Lately, he would not even attempt to believe that she would willingly spend time with him. But he was feeling good about their conversation in the joke shop and gave it a shot. He looked towards the ice cream parlour, which he'd been to so many times over his summers. "We do have to meet there anyways,"

Lily smiled apologetically. "Sorry, P– Charlus. I want to make a stop at Flourish and Botts to see if there's any books there that can get us out of this mess."

James almost smiled at their similar thought process. He just have her a brief nod before heading off to Florean's on his own. He was not alone for long, however, because a formerly dark-haired boy by the name of Sirius Black fell into stride alongside him on his way there. "Hey, mate," Sirius greeted, though they had not parted ways very long ago.

"'Lo, Padfoot," replied James, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Bored already?"

Sirius shrugged. "Just thought you could use some company. Where's Evans? Er, Lizzie? Thought I saw her take off after you?" He raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

"You did," he responded, looking in the direction she'd walked off in. "We chatted for a bit, and parted ways," James told him nonchalantly, though he was feeling anything but. The moments that had passed in the shop seemed to be the longest civil talk they'd had. He was replaying different parts of the conversation in his head over and over. It doesn't seem like our opinions could change. Four more years to live, to learn, to make a difference. I won't have lived enough.

"I see. I suppose you two did have a lot to discuss, didn't you?" Sirius murmured understandingly.

James let out a breath of air that blew up his fringe. "You could say that," he grunted, ruffling his hair. James looked at his friend. "I fucking married her, Padfoot." he said in a low tone.

"I know." Sirius said.

"I had a kid with her, man."

"I know that too, Prongs." he answered, sighing. "I can't think of what a number that must've done on your head." Sirius had been well aware of the feelings James had had for Lily in fifth year. James would deny any remnants of the feelings, no matter how large of a lie it was, even in front of Sirius. But he still must have some inkling as to much this was screwing with his mind.

James and Sirius arrived at the ice cream parlour, and ordered a sundae each after they were seated. James, unable to lead his mind anywhere else than where had been, twiddled his thumbs as he sat. He did not break the silence that had begun to fall over them. He supposed that now was the time that everything they'd discovered was hitting them full-force. The previous night there had been too many things going on, and that morning they were too tired to be concerned.

Sirius was the one who spoke first. His voice was quiet in the busy place, but James could still hear him. "I hate that this is how our lives turn out. I'm not sure which of us has it worse. I'm a bloody murderer, sure to get my soul rightfully sucked out by a dementor soon enough, and you're, well," He drew a finger across his throat, his eyes looking dull. He looked like he could not speak any longer.

"As is my future fucking wife." James whispered, slumping in his seat. "The mother of my bloody orphaned child."

"I reckon you win, then," Sirius muttered after a while, mirroring the other's posture. "For now, that is. Depends when I get my soul sucked out, I s'pose."

"Padfoot," he started, "I know you. I've known you for six years now, and been around you almost every second since I met you. You're innocent, I know it. You've got to have been framed, or something like that. I can't believe that the Sirius I know would do anything like that," James looked at Sirius determinedly.

Sirius broke eye contact. "That's just it, isn't it?" said Sirius lowly, clenching his fists around the edge of the table. "It's not the Sirius you know. It's the Sirius with sixteen years of difference from the one you know. There were witnesses, James. My face is all over the shop windows. Every newspaper in London has my mugshot on it. The Sirius you don't know did do this, and I have to live with the fact that someday that'll be me."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," James told him with quiet conviction.

"Hard to say anything when you're dead, Prongs." Sirius replied, finally looking back at James.

Any further protest James may or may not have next said were silenced by Florean showing up with two chocolate sundaes. They were barely into their second bites when four familiar voices were heard. James turned around to spot Remus, Lily, Peter and Harry entering the parlour.

"Of course you two would be eating," commented Remus, playing unaware of the tense atmosphere.

"Takes a lot of energy to look this good," quipped James, pretending as if nothing had gone on. "So, are we off then?"

The newly red-haired boy nodded. "To Gringotts," he said.

A/N: Direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Disclaim.