How it happened, from beginning to end, from the man who started it all.

Dueling shouldn't be humorous - particularly when the other person involved in the duel is a dark wizard. A pitched battle, involving several dark wizards ambushing just a few members of the Order should be even less so. And John believes that, up until he sees Sherlock and Sirius fighting at the same time.

As it turns out they never stop competing.

In which Sirius Black knows more than he ever wanted to.

Infallible? Me? Come on. He had to be kidding. Only someone clearly off their rocker would put the likes of me up on a pedestal.

James tried to find the words, but nothing came. How in the hell are you supposed to explain to a drunk girl that garden gnomes aren't pets?

Repeat after me, Mr. Black: I do believe in commas. I do, I do.

Have the guilt and horror caught up with you? I daresay that Malfoy might be slightly displeased to know where his little Cissy-darling was last night and who she was with.

"The bad news is that I think I might have fallen ridiculously, head-over-heels, Prongs-for-Lily, nauseatingly in love with you. The worse news is that it took Marlene McKinnon's lips to tell me that."

It wasn't always like that. Because when Dumbledore had paused before the cluster of four boys--and they were still boys, Sirius knew now--on their last day at Hogwarts, and told them that they were bound for extraordinary things, he'd been right.

James wasn't stupid, and he was mostly quick. Four weeks, he'd counted. It'd taken him four weeks total to realize what exactly had happened and manage not to yell, "You bloody tart!" at Sirius.

James' middle name is Alexander.

It is defined as "possessing lemur-like qualities." Like Moony. He possesses lemur-like qualities; thus, he is lemury.

"Potter," Lily blurted out desperately, catching sight of him in the corner with his friends. "It was Potter, and it was before we went out."

He still isn’t sure how they got here, sticky and feverish, Lily pressed against the trunk of an old oak tree, his big hands tangled in her hair. It’s two days before end of term and the hottest day of the year.

However, Lily's circumstances this particular morning were not that of a normal day. No, for as a direct result of the rather grueling Quidditch match that had taken place the day before, Lily Evans had suddenly acquired herself a nice case of self-inflicted laryngitis.

(She may or may not blame the eggnog later on, of course. He cannot foresee whether she will, and cannot bring himself to care just yet.)

There's no one else to blame, but it's easier to take out your frustration on Death Eaters, garden gnomes and Alice Longbottom. It's simply more comfortable.

"Look. You're a brilliant person. But if you don't stop babbling about this blasted present, I swear on my great-grandfather's most unholy and thrice-damned name that I will Silence you for the rest of your life."

"It's Valentine's Day. The girl expects it. I have to take her there."

James Potter était assis à son bureau et corrigeait des copies. Lorsqu’il arriva à « Lily Evans », il sourit de toutes ses dents, sourire de séducteur qui lui avait permis de tomber tant de filles jusque là et, ne prenant même pas la peine de lire la copie, il y plaça un gros « D » à l’encre rouge (il ne s’en servait que pour les Serpentard). Cette rouquine l’énervait au plus haut point. Voilà un mois qu’elle jouait la Miss je sais tout dans son cours. Si elle croyait se le mettre dans la poche de cette manière là, elle se fourrait le doigt dans l’œil madame la préfète.

Lily, too caught up in her musings of James' room, had not noticed James at all. When Lily finally did look his way she was stunned with how heavily the attraction hit her. She began to wonder what it would be like to kiss him again. That was when the mantra started running through her head: "He's your professor..."

Another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults.

James was pink from head to toe, and from what Remus could see, it was the same exact color all over--not like a sunburn with varying shades, but a solid stomach-medicine hue, vaguely nauseating in and of itself. It had to be Charmwork. Advanced Charmwork from the looks of it--magic that no regular first year ought to have known. Which narrowed the field to James--who was predisposed to magic; Sirius--who was predisposed to mischief; Remus--who was predisposed to reading; or Snape.

"Oh MERLIN. STOP WRIGGLING OR I'LL HEX YOU! This is a rule. There is a KNICKERS RULE!"

James Potter's luck was bound to run out. Who knew he'd take Remus Lupin's along with it?

There was visibility, and then there was invisibility. James Potter understood the difference between the two. When he decided to become invisible, no one was more surprised than he.

Algernon sicked up under my bed. Moony and I discussed what we could do with it during breakfast, but by the time I’d run up to preserve it after lunch, the house-elves had already got to it. Another wasted opportunity.

When he'd snatched the book—Madam Marthe's Marvelous Dance Manuel—out of the library, he hadn't much been thinking about the torture it might bring with it. Truth be told, the only thing that had really been concerning James at the time was how to get out of the library without anyone seeing that he was taking the damned thing with him. Now in comparison, his former task seemed easy, trivial. There was no way he could have anticipated the horrors Madam Marthe had had waiting in store.

Raven sipped also, and wiped his mouth with a finger. The boy turned the cup over, pouring the rest onto the ground; it spun through the air back to Moon Queen, who laid it again on the table. Herne glanced at Hare, who was almost trembling with excitement. It barely took a shove from the green-masked boy to send him running for the trees, and Herne started after him, but a few quick notes on the reed flute drew him back.

How Sirius saved Christmas and why Remus is actually illiterate.

I mean, when the love of your best friend's life comes to you and says, oi, Sirius, your godson's got to get signed up for Hogwarts, of course you say yes, Lily, indeed he does.

It's the day before Remus' nineteenth birthday, and Sirius is at an utter gift-giving loss.

A lovesick Sirius is a desperate thing, and Remus Lupin insists on being oblivious.

Agreeing to go home for Christmas with James and Sirius, Remus decided, had been one of the worst decisions he’d ever made. It wasn’t, really, how many things had exploded on the train (seventeen), or how many people had been waiting for them at King’s Cross (zero), or the number of thieves who attempted to lift his trunk in the trip between King’s Cross, where James’s parents had been supposed to meet them, and The Leaky Cauldron, where they were meeting them (three).

Harry acquires some new photos of the Marauders, and with them more information than he’d counted on.

Sirius won't remember why he does it, or five gin and tonics, or the curve of her mouth when she laughs, just like he won't remember the dull, low ache theme:alcohol lends to the conversation, until Lily can't stop laughing and he can't stop things spilling from his mouth, like pearls and diamonds in one of those wretched fairy tales.

Remus' hand was on Sirius' shoulder, and had been for too long. James stared at that, at the tight curve of long fingers against leather, and was torn between gratitude, that it saved him from looking at anyone's faces, and resentment of what it implied. Sirius had been dodging his questions, lately, and Remus had a way of looking at him, bland and watchful, which meant the questions stuck in his throat. They were his friends, and he didn't care if he was right: he didn't care what they did to or with each other. But they were his friends, and they shouldn't lie to him.

If James wanted to debase himself in order to win a single date with Lily Evans, well, that wasn't much of a change at all.

“I loved you once, you know.” James knew that things would be different. He just hadn’t known how much they had changed.

You know what, my little man? Mum’s going to step out for awhile, and dad is just going to have to watch you.

I’m not sure why I responded to the ginger-haired girl the way I did. I’d seen a hundred of her type before--pale and skittish at finding themselves here, but arrogant, too, never worked a day in their life, likely to look down on a woman like me who makes a honest living through trade. They pretend like they’ve been to Knockturn Alley before, like they know what they’re doing, like they know what they want. They rarely do. I take their gold anyway. I need it. We’ve all been screwed over by somebody--and I’m the first to admit it happened to me--but if they pay me enough, I’ll help them act like that’s not true.

Remus isn't a very good story teller, but there are things Harry wants to be told. Then again, there are some things Remus can never say, things that burn to think about. Betrayals and other things he keeps to himself. Secrets from when it all fell apart.

"Come on, Padfoot," James pleaded, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What does it matter if you see her before the wedding? Won't do anything to your future life and happiness."

Remus is safe, Remus is gay, Remus is in love with Sirius, and all of that is true, except this is Lily.

"Don't you ever wonder why it is you don't argue like this with anyone but me?"

It's far too early, but it seems James has a favour to ask of Lily.

Lily finds James after a particularly grueling Quidditch practice.

James always believed that Scrabble was what won Lily's heart.

Lying next to the milk bottle was a dead sparrow.