The Marauders: Year 1

I have discovered a surprising lack of Marauders fanfics (starting from year one) even after intensive scoring of the internet and various fan fiction sites. So I decided it was high time I wrote my own.

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1. Chapter 1 -- James Potter: Diagon Alley

First year students will require:

1.    Three sets of work robes (black)

2.    One pointed hat (black) for day wear

3.    One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4.    One winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

By Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

By Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

By Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

By Emeric Switch

First year students will require:

1.    Three sets of work robes (black)

2.    One pointed hat (black) for day wear

3.    One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide of similar)

4.    One winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

By Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

By Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

By Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

By Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

By Phyllida Spore

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

By Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

By Quentin Trimble

                                                   

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1.    One wand

2.    One cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

3.    One set glass or crystal phials

4.    One telescope

5.    One set brass scales

Students may bring also, if they desire, and owl OR a cat OR a toad

James read through the list one more time before stuffing it in the pocket of his robes, then he stepped into the fireplace and took a pinch of floo powder from the ceramic flower pot his mother held out to him. He threw the floo powder into the white ash at his feet and shouted "Diagon Alley," as clearly as he could. Green flames erupted around him, obscuring his vision. Everything around him seemed to be spinning at an alarmingly quick rate. He kept catching glimpses of rooms: a smoky kitchen where a young woman was batting at the blackness with a cloth; an empty, abandoned, dusty attic filled with many stacks of old cardboard boxes, which appeared the be falling apart; a large elaborately furnished dining room where a mother and father sat eating a meal with their two sons; they all had black hair.

When James could feel himself slowing down, he stuck out his foot, and forced it down onto the ground in front of him. Instead of landing in the ash, James' foot struck wood; it jarred his ankle and he smacked his head on the low, brick hearth. It wasn't the smoothest landing, but James managed to stay on his feet, stepping out into the Leaky Cauldron, limping slightly and rubbing his forehead, trying to see where he was going through slightly watering eyes. His mother came through behind him.

"Oh, James, honey, you're covered in soot," she said, trying to brush him off.

"I know Mum," he replied, shying away and rumpling his hair until all the soot had fallen to the ground, then he swiped his hands over his robes, cleaning them off as much as he could; he followed his mother out of the room. Having seen his parents open the entrance to Diagon Alley many times before, James only watched idly while his mother tapped the brick above the trash can. The wall began to open, morphing into a big archway over ten feet high. Everything inside the archway was so familiar: the old rickety sign that had always been above Olivander’s wand shop, now he was going to get a wand of his own; there was Flourish and Blotts, the book big bookshop, always crowded, where he would get his new schoolbooks; the small stool outside Madam Malkin’s that had always been there; all the animals, today there was a large orange cat, that started out the window of Magical Menagrie; and the owls, all different colors, sizes and kinds that slept in their cages of Eeylops Owl Emporium.

They passed all of these shops and James and his mother walked into Gringotts, the poem engraved above the silver doors seemed to stand out like a light in the dark. His mother walked up to the nearest desk and addressed the goblin sitting there. He led them to a small cart, and James and his mother clambered in. The ride to the Potter vault was as exhilarating as ever; he let the cold air whip his hair back from his face. As they reached vault 687, the goblin slowed the cart, and stepped out, taking the small golden key from Mrs. Potter and inserting it into the bronze, oval door. James watched his mom slide a hand full of coins into a large pouch, pocket it and then take out a smaller pouch and fill that too.

"Here is a little spending money for you; don't forget to save some for a snack on the train. Your father and I have agreed that you deserve it." James' mother told him, handing him the smaller pouch as soon as they had left the bank.

"Thanks mum!" James replied happily.

"I'm going to go and buy your school things, you go and explore." It was the first time James had been allowed to go wander around Diagon Alley on his own. In his excitement, he walk straight into a little blond boy clutching an ice cream cone in one hand, and holding tight to his mother's with the other.

"Whoops, sorry," James apologized hastily as the boy's ice cream was pushed into his chest.

"That's okay," the boy said with a slight lisp as his mum cleaned him off with her wand. His front teeth were missing. "My name's Gilderoy Lockhart, but you can call me Mr. Lockhart, please, or Mr. Gilderoy. I'm seven." James nodded awkwardly as Gilderoy Lockhart continued to babble on. Mrs. Lockhart stood up when she had finished wiping all the ice cream off of his robes.

"I'm sorry about him," she said smiling at James as she reached for his son's hand. James smiled back but didn't say anything. "Come on Gilderoy," Mrs. Lockhart took the broken ice cream cone from the little boy and pulled him after her. Gilderoy Lockhart turned and looked back to wave at James enthusiastically before he disappeared in the crowd. Pushing the kid from his mind, James tossed the pouch of money into the air, then caught it, and pocketed it. 

The first shop he went into was Gamble and Japes. Entertaining prank devices lined every wall. Dr. Fillibuster wet-start, no-heat fireworks sat on the shelves just begging James to pick them up and purchase them. He grabbed an arm full, and brought them to the counter. The man at the desk rang up the items, a total of seven galleons, and eleven sickles. James let the man stuff the boxes in a bag and hurried out the door to greet again, the buslting crowd. He pushed through the current of witches and wizards to Florean Fortescue's Icecream parlor, where he bought a large chocolate ice cream, and sat down to strike up a conversation, soon interrupted Mrs. Potter. She was holding James' school books, cauldron, glass phials, and a brand new set of brass scales.

"Come along James, we have to get you fitted with your robes, then we'll go buy you a wand. James said goodbye to Mr. Fortescue and joined his mother on the streets of Diagon Alley again. They walked down to the small-yet-tidy building, Madam Malkin’s. Of course James had been in here many times while his father was getting dress robes, normally for dinner parties or nights out with his wife. A little bell jingled as James entered, and Madam Malkin looked up from her work on a polished wooden desk. She smiled when she saw Mrs. Potter and her son.

"Now, you'll be getting your Hogwarts robes I presume?" She asked as James stepped onto the stool in the center of the room. He nodded eagerly, and Madam Malkin proceeded to search through a messy pile of random things behind her desk. At last, she resurfaces with a tape-measure in her hand, glided over to James again and began measuring his body. She then found a pair of robes and pulled them over James' head, instructing him to hold his arms out at either side. She took a box of pins from the floor, and began adjusting the sleeves, and hem. It was fairly quick work, but James' arms had begun to get tired. At last, Madam Malkin removed the robes and addressed Mrs. Potter.

"Right," She said. "I'll alter these for you, and have them ready to go and sent to Potter Manor by next week. Mrs. Potter thanked her, and paid her the money for the robes. James followed his mother back out, setting off the tinkling bell again. As he walked down the street he caught sight of the old sign hanging above the next shop’s small, dark door. The paint was chipped but James could clearly read: Olivanders: Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C. A flutter of excitement filled his chest and he hurried in front of his mother to enter the old, dusty shop.

The shop was small, and empty except for an old man hunched over at his desk. James cleared his throat, and Mr. Ollivander looked up. James almost did a double take. Olivander's eyes were silver.

"Ah, and who might you be?" Olivander asked.

"James Potter," James replied hesitantly.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter if I could have you please hold out your wand arm?" James held out his right arm for the man, who took a tape measure and set to work. James watched the tape measure's progress as it measured even some of the most bizarre places. Then Mrs. Potter walked in. She coughed softly at the dust and went to sit on the spindly chair in the corner of the room. Mr. Olivander didn't seem to notice her come in. He snatched the tape measure out of the air, and set it on the desk again, and then shuffled through the aisles in the back until he was no longer visible. James looked at his mother, but she had pulled out her handkerchief and was blowing her nose.

At last, Mr. Ollivander came back with several boxes in his arms. He laid then out on the desk and gave one to James to try.

"This is a Hawthorn wand, core of unicorn hair, ten and a half inchers." James took the wand, and Mr. Olivander looked at him as if he was expecting something. Then, all of a sudden, he snatched the wand back from James and replaced it with another. It, according to Olivander, was Willow, ten and a quarter inches. Olivander took this one too, before James could even get a good look at it. He continued to hand James wand after wand of various combinations. Birch and dragon heartstring, yew and unicorn hair, holly and phoenix feather. After about twenty minutes, Olivander had come back with a sixth batch of wands, and he handed James the first one-- Eleven inches, made of mahogany-- The minute his fingers touched to polished wood, he felt a warm, tingling feeling in the tips of his fingers. He swished the wand through the air, and bright, gold sparks issued from its tip. Mr. Olivander clapped, again took the wand from James, placing it back in the box, and handing it to Mrs. Potter who had stood up, smiling, and was rummaging around in her small purse to for Galleons. She thanked Mr. Olivander and the two of the left the store. Quite frankly, James was glad to leave.

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