Before the Beginning

"Oy!"

James Potter looked down at the ground, squinting against the bright afternoon sunlight. He lifted one hand off his broom to shield his eyes. Floating comfortably twenty feet above the ground, James peered at his sister.

"You've got an owl!"

Intrigued, James lowered his broom ten feet so that he was almost eye level with his sister. "From who?"

"I don't read your mail, git," she replied. She turned, tossing her sheet of black hair over her shoulder.

"Mallory, wait!" James called, zooming up to meet her. "Was the owl orange?"

Mallory Potter turned and eyed James. "Yeah. Let me guess...Sirius?"

James grinned, hopping off the broom from a height of five feet. "He answered!" James said, running up the hill, leaving his sister standing in the glen behind him.

"You're going to kill yourself with that broom!" Mallory called after him, but James paid her no mind. He continued running, not pausing at the top of the hill. In front of him, at the bottom of the hill, stood a fairly large, sprawling house. It was yellow with green trim and had a veranda running along the outside. Huge oak trees grew on both sides of the house, towering over the slanted roof.

James pushed open the unlocked gate and sprinted easily around the various plants growing from the ground. He only stopped to lean his broom against one of the veranda posts. James entered the shady house, the coolness washing over him and removing any summer heat remnants. Still running, James collided with his mother in the kitchen doorway.

"James!"

"Mum!"

"Do watch where you're going, James," Mrs. Potter said, looking at the tray of biscuits and jam that were lying at her feet. "Oh, bother!"

"Sorry about that, Mum," James said. "Are those for Dad?"

"Yes. Let me fix them up and then you're going to give them to him," Mrs. Potter said, waving her wand at the mess on the floor. The biscuits snapped back together, the jam formed once again in the jam dish, and it all sat arranged on the tray. Mrs. Potter pushed the tray into James' chest. "Off you go, he's in his study," she said enthusiastically, dusting her hands on her skirt.

"Having a tea party?" Mallory asked, coming inside the house and joining them in the kitchen door.

"No, James was going to give these to your father," Mrs. Potter replied. She looked significantly at James.

"Move it, James. You're blocking the kitchen."

James tossed both of them an annoyed look and hurried up the stairs to his father's study. The Potter house was long and narrow, resulting in endless hallways running the length of both floors. The hallways were slender and the rooms were spacious, and with Mrs. Potter's trinkets and tables lining the walls of the hallways, it made navigating a hazard.

Dodging vases and flower pots, James reached the end of the second floor hallway. He balanced the tray against his chest, lifted his leg to turn the handle with his knee, but the door was thrown open from the other side. Startled, James lost his balance and fell onto the ground, the tray of biscuits lying once more on the floor.

James grinned lopsidedly at the pleasant face of Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter was tall and stocky. His face was round, topped by black hair and a neatly kept mustache. "James, what the blazes were you doing?" Mr. Potter said, laughing.

"Er, trying to open the door," James said and stood up.

"You're more graceful in the air than on the ground! I was just coming to see where my snack was," Mr. Potter said, looking down at his biscuits. James didn't think it would be wise to tell him that this was not the first time the biscuits were on the ground. Mr. Potter drew out his wand and fixed the snack together again.

"Sorry about that. How's your work coming?" James asked. Mr. Potter was the Chief of Staff for the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Fudge was new to the politics of the wizarding world. In fact, the job had been offered to Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore had refused. It was rumored that Fudge wrote to Dumbledore daily asking for advice.

Mr. Potter made sure everything under Fudge's nose was running smoothly. When someone commented on how well the office was running, it was actually Mr. Potter who should be thanked, and not young Cornelius Fudge. But Mr. Potter was not one to complain. James suspected that Mr. Potter enjoyed making Fudge uncomfortable by telling the media how well the Minister ran his people.

"Oh, I'll manage. Fudge is off on vacation. I've got thirteen files to sort out to the Departments, and the people I need to talk to aren't at the Ministry today," Mr. Potter sighed, but he looked happy all the same. "Shouldn't be too hard, eh?"

"Oh, right," James replied. He wasn't aware of what happened in the Ministry, and he didn't feel like finding out. James did not fancy the idea of a desk job, no matter how often Mr. Potter reminded him that his job wasn't exactly your average desk job.

"Did you need something, James?" Mr. Potter asked, suddenly concerned.

"Nope," James replied. "I'll let you get on with...whatever you're doing."

"There's a lad," Mr. Potter said, beaming. He closed the door to the study, leaving James staring at the wood. Slowly, he turned around and began to walk to the large staircase. Suddenly remembering his letter from Sirius, James started to run again. He ran into the down the stairs, into the kitchen, and into the tiny room they used as their owlry.

Sitting on the far wall was a horrid orange owl. James grinned at it and took the letter from its leg. The owl took off, contrasting oddly with the blue sky. Sirius Black had always been a bit over eager when it came to Charms.

James took his letter into the kitchen and sank into one of the chairs, ripping the letter open eagerly. He flung the envelope aside and unfolded the torn piece of parchment. There was no introduction.

All right, I did some research. I still can't believe you can't get into your dad's library. What, does he have trolls or something guarding it? Arabella almost had a hippogriff when I asked to look at her books. She believed me when I told her I wanted to do research for school. Well, I'm not exactly lying, am I?

James snorted. Sirius somehow managed to get good grades by cramming for exams the night before they took place. He also managed to avoid the library at Hogwarts for as long as possible.

Anyway, here's the deal. Becoming an Animagus is not easy (as we know). There's a whole bunch of charm work involved and a potion (looks like the Potion's storage is going to get a workout this year, for once). I'll see what ingredients I can get from Bella's storage, and the rest we'll have to get from...wherever. Does Remus know about this? I mean, he's basically why we're doing it, no?

Get ready to kill Lestrange and his stupid Slytherin sloths in Quidditch.

-Sirius

James folded the letter and tucked it into his jean pocket, pushing it as far as it would go. If someone in the Potter household got ahold of the letter, he would be in for it. His father would practically disown him if he knew James was trying to illegally become an Animagus. And furthermore, he would get Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew in trouble, who were also performing in illegal activities with him.

Back in second year, James, Sirius and Peter had figured out that Remus was a werewolf. Remus was shocked that they still spoke to him. As if we'd ignore him, James thought to himself, then shook his head. The entire Animagus idea was Sirius', because when it came to making sure everyone was happy, Sirius felt that it was his place. So he brainstormed for two and a half years, then finally at the end of their fourth year, Sirius came up with the brilliant idea.

The brilliant but illegal idea. By turning into an animal, Sirius figured that the three of them could accompany Remus on his monthly transformations. The only problem was that the process was very difficult and advanced. Sirius promised James he'd look into it during the summer. James had tried to get any books on potions from his father, but Mr. Potter had refused to let James into his library. James was still puzzled for his father's reasons.

Thinking of his friends, James longed to return to Hogwarts, even if that did mean putting up with homework, professors, and Slytherins. James felt most at home at Hogwarts; it had become a part of him that you couldn't take away. The people, the sights, even the paintings were all attached to James. Quidditch was another thing James missed. He was a star Chaser on the Gryffindor house team since his third year, and even won an award for scoring the highest amount of points in a single game.

Sirius was the captain of the team, and a fine Keeper, too. Gryffindor had won the last two Quidditch cups, and James planned to win the next three. The fierce battles between Slytherin and Gryffindor on the Quidditch pitch were what James looked forward to most. No matter how much they taunted, mocked, pried, probed, or whatever else the Slytherins do, they had never managed to beat Gryffindor in Quidditch. James grinned at the thought.

James took the envelope from Sirius' letter, threw it into the empty fireplace, then hurried to his room. Unlike his father's study, which was at the far left of the house, James' room was on the far right. He liked being so far away from the racket of the everything else, and he could see the glen and rolling hills behind the house from his window. The room itself was big, but the clutter on the ground shrunk the size considerably. The high walls were painted white, but the white was hidden under posters and pictures. James' bed was a mess, his closet was open and things were falling out, and he could barely make out his desk chair.

"I'll clean later," James said to himself, closing the door behind him and finding everything needed to write a reply to Sirius. He removed all the things clustered on his desk with a swipe of his arm, then set to his task.

Sirius, you've outdone yourself. I didn't think you'd pull this through. Well, you haven't yet, but you can with my mind and magical talent. I asked Dad about his library, but he just said that I shouldn't be searching in it, then he gave me one of this looks. We'll have to stick with the Hogwarts library and Lily.

Lily Evans was another of James' closer friends, even though she was a girl.

About Remus - I think we should find out more about this stuff before we tell him. You know how he is: "You can't do this! You'll blow yourself up!" I figure that if we can prove to him that we know what we're talking about, he might like the idea more. And you're the one who's going to tell him, since it's your plan. I'm just here for the moral support.

I'm counting down to Gryffindor's first match against Slytherin. They have no chance.

-James

Satisfied, James rolled the letter up, tied it with some spare string, then hurried back down to the owlry. He found Wighed (a tiny screech owl), tied the letter to her foot, then shooed her off.

"James Simon Potter, what happened to your room!"

***

Sirius Black sat staring at the book. He had been looking through all of Arabella's books, and so far none of them had given him anything. At about the tenth book, Sirius had given up trying and resorted to just scanning pages mechanically. No wonder he was no good at studying.

"Sirius!"

Sirius shook his head to wake from his stupor, then tilted his head toward the kitchen. "What is it, Bella?"

"Your father sent a letter."

"Tell him to sod off!"

"Sirius!" Arabella said, stepping out of the kitchen and into the den. She planted her hands on her hips and gave him a piercing look. "You will not speak that way about your father. He's a very honorable and decent man and he-."

"Doesn't give a damn about what I'm doing," Sirius interjected, and before Arabella could scold him, he continued. "He's only filling his fatherly roles of checking up on me. Like he cares." Sirius turned away and stared out the window, resting his elbows on the desk and his chin in his upturned hands.

"Oh, Sirius, your father does care about you," Arabella said, her voice going soft. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Then my name is Cornelius Fudge."

"Dear God, no!" Arabella said, faking a look of horror. Sirius grinned a little. "Honestly, Sirius. He does care. I'm sure he misses you."

"Bella, he didn't even know I was on the Quidditch team until a year ago," Sirius said. He made sure his voice stayed even.

"He's a busy man."

"Too busy to know about his son. Makes perfect sense."

"Sirius, I wish I knew what to say-"

"But you don't, so don't bother," Sirius said, then turned to look at her. He scrutinized her for a minute, then shook his head. "You're bad with words."

"I am not!" Arabella replied indignantly.

"What was that you said to Mr. Bunker the other day?" Sirius said, pretending to think. "Oh, that's right. 'Harold, dear, can I try out your stick sometime?'"

Arabella's cheeks turned pink. "I was talking about his broom, Sirius."

"Of course," Sirius replied innocently. "But Mr. Bunker wasn't." He ducked as Arabella tried to hit him with the end of her apron. She left the den and continued making supper, leaving Sirius to think about all the nasty things he could write to his father.

Mr. Black is an International Law Enforcer. His job sends him around the world, and he barely has time to stop in England. The last time Sirius saw him was in his third year, almost two years ago. Sirius' mother was long dead, though Arabella wouldn't tell him why. She explained to him carefully that the time would come when Sirius should know. Sirius had rolled his eyes impatiently and said, "You're not telling me about sex, you're talking about my own mother!"

Needless to say, Arabella hadn't told him. Since his father was constantly away, and his mother was deceased, Sirius had been living with Arabella Figg for most of his life. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing; Arabella was the best thing next to his true parents, and at times better. She was strict, but Sirius usually could get around her severe demeanor with a gag or two.

Suddenly there was a rush of wings through the open window. Sirius blinked, then recognized James' screech owl. "Speedy reply, James," Sirius said to himself, untying the note. He grabbed some stale crackers off the nearby coffee table and let Wighed munch on them. Sirius rolled the note out, scanned it, then dipped his quill to reply.

There is no way I'm telling Remus. He'll tell me it's a bad idea, throw me into the fire, yell at me, tell me some more how stupid it is, throw me out of the Gryffindor tower (maybe even the Astronomy tower), then tell me again how stupid it is. And you, moral support? If Remus hexed me to bits, you would laugh.

-Sirius
(Resorting to Lily, are we? How can we...she doesn't know about this!)

Sirius rolled the reply up, gave it to Wighed, then watched as the owl disappeared. Grinning, Sirius turned back to the task at hand. Sirius sighed, then tossed the book into the steadily growing pile behind him.

***

James struggled to keep his face out of his breakfast. He had stayed up late into the night, exchanging owls with Sirius until one in the morning. They had agreed that they would tell Remus about their Animagus plan together after they had worked out the details.

"James, dear, did you get enough sleep?" Mrs. Potter asked, sitting down at the table. Mr. Potter lowered his newspaper to glance at his son.

"I bet Wighed had a workout last night," Mr. Potter said knowingly. James shot him a curious look and was about to ask how he knew, but Mallory interrupted.

"Hmm, chatting up your favorite Hogwarts gal, James?" Mallory asked.

"Mallory!" Mrs. Potter cried, as if scandalized. Both Potter children rolled their eyes.

"I was not chatting up some Hogwarts girl," James replied stiffly.

"Oh, just Lily then?"

"Lily's my friend!" James protested, keeping his voice even.

"That's what they all say, and then they're married."

"Shut it," James growled, poking his eggs with a fork. The silence that fell around the Potter's breakfast table was broken by two owls soaring through the owlry doorway. They dropped a letter each; one to James and one to Mallory, then flew off. James looked at the back of his letter and found the Hogwarts seal imprinted on the flap. "It's from Hogwarts."

"Hmm, open it up, lad," Mr. Potter said absently, eyes trained on his newspaper. James tore the envelope open, noticing that it was thicker than usual. Two pieces of paper slipped out. James put the paper with supplies aside and picked up the other one, then almost dropped it again.

"I'm a Prefect?" he asked, puzzled. How did he, James Potter, manage to break every rule and still become a Prefect?

"I dunno, are you?" Mallory asked dryly.

"Oh, James, how wonderful!" Mrs. Potter said, squealing. She jumped up and hugged her son, smothering James in the crook of her neck.

"I can't breath," he gurgled into her skin. She squeezed him then stood back, beaming. Mr. Potter folded his paper.

"Course you're a Prefect. Your mother was a Prefect, and so was Mal," Mr. Potter said. "I've seen it coming to you ever since the start, James."

"You don't understand," James said, standing up. "I'm not Prefect material. Look at Mallory. She's mean, snobby, and plain annoying. Perfect for being a Prefect." Mallory's mouth dropped open in rage. "But me? No. Every time I grin, McGonagall asks me what I did. I've had more detentions than I can count, and-"

"Don't you want to take points of Slytherin?" Mallory suddenly said. James closed his mouth, considering this. It was a monumental discovery, and could prove to be useful.

"I changed my mind," James said, sitting down to finish breakfast. "I'm the best Prefect in the world."

"That's my son!" Mr. Potter said, proudly. For once, James didn't sigh at Mr. Potter's over-enthusiastic remark.

"Mallory, dear, are you Head Girl?" Mrs. Potter asked carefully. James watched as Mallory's face twisted into a blank look.

"Nope," she said indifferently. "Some other blokes got stuck with it."

While Mr. and Mrs. Potter scolded her lightly, James noticed that she looked upset. Biting his lip, he pushed his eggs around on the plate and couldn't help feeling sorry for Mallory.