Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the Marauders sadly...*sobs uncontrollably*

A/N.: I know I've been not updating some of my stories for a while, but I just want more reviews for them that's why I don't update them. I hope you guys like this story, after all you want another Harry Potter story, right? Well I love this story!

The Marauders' Adventures: Year One

I'm hanging on,
Here until I'm gone.
I'm right where I belong,
Just hanging on...

~Foo Fighters, February Stars

-

1.

My name is James Potter and I am 11.

When a little kid looks at his parents, he only sees the love inside them and then he's happy. He doesn't notice the raised voices, the telepathic stares they give each other or the quiet silence between meals. He only remembers the trips to the park, the first time on a broomstick and making tree-shaped cookies for christmas.

But when you get older and you are a real mess of things, new discoveries, brilliant adventures, big dreams, going everywhere hoping that everything is okay and getting disappointed, it's no wonder I couldn't see the love inside my parents. It appears to be there, sometimes, and then it's gone.

2.

I first noticed things were going wrong when Father was shouting at Mother about the cottage in Wales. Father never raises his voice. I'm sure it was the cottage in Wales because I had my ear pressed against the door, praying that he'd see sense. For some reason, the cottage in Wales wasn't important anymore to him and Father thought we could sell it. Mother was disagreeing over it. I could hear her slamming the pot over the sink. I've noticed she gets angry easily.

I started nodding off after that and they must have checked up on me because I found myself in bed, the covers tucked in. So now I don't know what's going to happen to the cottage in Wales.

But that morning, Mother gave me pancakes and cereal and said, "James. Do you remember the cottage in Wales?"

First thing I do, I keep my tone even. "Yes," I replied between spoonfuls of oats and strawberries. When something's wrong, Mother always cooks a hearty breakfast for the family. I've started to notice the pattern now.

"Well," she says briskly, getting up and flicking her wand towards the sink. It fills up to the brim with water and soap. She heaves a little sigh and flicks her wand again. The water level goes down. "Your Father and I are thinking of selling it. Are you fine with that?"

Now before I go any further, I'd like to point out that particular sentence. When my parents make a decision, my Mother always uses the words, "Your Father and I are thinking....Are you fine with that?" It isn't for me to make an opinion on. I've only been to the cottage twice in my life. Parents feel guilty when they raise their voices, so I might as well make Mother happy.

"Yes, Mother," I reply back, polite as can be.

Yes, this is the pattern of my life now.

So, you can see why I resort to pranks.

It's because I want others to laugh, even when my household is silent.

I want others to accept me, like how my Mother includes me in family choices.

But most of all, it's a good stress reliever and it makes me well-known in the village.

I live in Godric's Hollow, a nice little village, mainly wizarding, with a huge graveyard full of wizarding family and names. You could spend your life there, memorizing each tombstone and memorial plaque. And then you join them. Life is like that. Most of the time I hang out near the house of Bathilda Bagshot. She's nice, and I like to think that she's my grandmother. Mother and Father don't visit my Grandmama and Grandpapa nearly as much as I would like.

Father has his business in the Ministry for Magic and Mother helps Madam Malkins every Saturday. The only time they aren't in the house are on Saturdays, so they usually send me to Ms. Bagshot's house. She's a dear, in my eyes. With all her books on magic and history, it's amazing! There's whole bookshelves full of history, magic and interesting facts, it'll take someone years to read all of them.

I guess you could say she started me on the road to reading. All I know is that I'd go through a book a week, and then I'd be back for more. Once she said, in that warm voice of hers, "James Potter, if you manage to finish all of these books, I will have a surprise for you." That simple sentence got me hooked on reading.

It was on a day when I took a book from the Bagshot personal library and I was walking home, that I had my first experience with magic. I was walking down the dusty road. It was the start of summer and many children were out, playing in the street. In a second, I found myself cornered by a group of boys.

I am lucky, someone was watching over me. Maybe it was when they took my book away from me and stamped on it, or when they hoisted me up by the ankles and shook me till my teeth rattled. It was then when I felt that warm feeling in my gut, bursting with energy and life. There was a flash and a bang, and I found myself lying on top of a heap of unconscious people.

Then I ran, I ran like I never ran before. I was terrified, what if the Ministry was after me? Mother never mentioned my magic to me, so I had no idea how the Ministry of Magic worked. I only knew Father worked there. The front door of the house was open, so I burst through.

Mother was there and when she saw me, I forgot everything and wrapped my arms around her. Something was up, I could tell. I felt tears prickling the back of my shirt as I held her there. We ended up on the couch, my Mother and I, still holding each other as if we would break.

So how can one day change your life? A minute? A tenth of a second? If I hadn't gone to Bathilda's, if I hadn't listened at the door, if I hadn't ran straight to my house. But I was there, clinging on to my dear Mother till the end of time.

After a few calming breaths she let go and hoisted her problem onto my shoulders gently. "Your father...got injured at work today."

I found myself whispering, "How?"

"He...He was with them Department of Magical Catastrophes personnel and they were in an old house. They went inside...there was...was a-an ancient...rune in the...home and your father..." She began her crying again. "It...it hit your father on th-the-the chest...he's...he's in a...c-coma...."

At that point, all my doubts of Mother's love for Father vanished like the early morning dew on grass.

And my world, with its incompletion and carefree child-like tendencies, with its books of magic and history and its memories of broomsticks and tree-shaped cookies, came falling down on me.

I doubt I was ever the same.

3.

Prankster. Good-for-nothing brat. Practical Joker. Sly Snake.

Everyone knows me by those nicknames. Who is James Potter? Who is the 11-year old boy who likes books?

Gone, destroyed by the tidalwave known as Life.

I must live up to these expectations. I will become a prankster, a good-for-nothing brat. I will become their practical joker, the baker's sly snake. I will let them tear the person who I thought I was apart.

I must look like a juvenile tragedy to Mother. Everyday she goes and visits Father. He doesn't know what's going. He doesn't move, doesn't ruffle my hair. He doesn't tell me how to improve on my flying. He is marble, a stone set in time.

Mother's falling farther and farther away from me. Sometimes I see her looking at me, with this sad little smile on her face. I think I remind her of Father.

I came that night, from my latest prank, to find Mother reading a letter on the couch. We rarely get any letters, because Grandmama and Grandpapa are out in West Indies, out exploring according to Mother. Her hazel eyes were attentive, scanning the parchment as though one small detail could be the key to the whole letter.

Its then that she notices my presence in the room. She get up, and I see that she looks frail and unsure. This isn't like her at all. I frown, I know something's going on.

"Mother?"

She moves gracefully to me and gives me a hug. This is unexpected. "James?"

No one remembers this James except for her. I look at her. "Yes?"

"How would you like to go to Hogwarts?"

Just think, I was worrying about the cottage in Wales two weeks ago.

A/N.: It won't be as sad as I make it out to be. It'll be better, with humor and adventure in it. I just need something that will give me a reason for the way James acts.