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Who: Lily Potter (

cwiclac), James Potter (

heorot), Sirius Black (

doggo), and Remus Lupin (

xxxxx)
What: Keep calm, the Potters have arrived.
When: Lucky number Sept. 10 (or so).
Where: Varies depending on the thread.
Warning(s): Death. Sadness. Attempted child murder. Welcome to Harry Potter!

[ this is a closed log to deal with the initial waking up drama of the marauder era & co. harry potter cast, to avoid clogging the intro log and wasting away the captcha. threads down below to be created by the cast. ]

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[A spaceship, yeah, and Sirius tears his gaze away from James so he can survey the whole of said spaceship, get a quick look at what surrounds them. He is no less baffled and awed by it in turns, perhaps only a little less than James is now.]

Not long. I've not exactly kept a calendar--I was never good at appointment books, you know that--but it can't be any more than a few months or so.

[Without revenge and Peter to stake himself to, that same unmoored feeling he used to have in Azkaban has come creeping back. Time became important again only once he'd seen Fudge's newspaper. Start of term in September. He's at Hogwarts. Sirius shuts that all away for now and looks back at James once more. It is difficult to stop looking at him, now that he's here.]

And the same's true of Remus. We woke up at the same time, nearly from the same point in time. And we've looked for you--Harry as well--

[Harry, who was only a baby to Sirius as well before Padfoot spotted him, and his tail had started wagging before he had made sense of why: because Harry looked so much like James, thirteen years of age, dragging his trunk behind him. That's who Sirius has been looking for. But if Harry has come here from the same point in time that James had--]

Look--Prongs. When they told you Harry was safe, did they say what age he was?

[ it feels almost too much to try and wrap his head around. a space ship, saving the world, your loved ones are safe. he won't kick a gift horse in the mouth, of course, but it almost seems too much to be possible. but he'll take it, he'll take all of it, and once they have harry-

though james does come to a pause - even in their walking - when sirius mentions that. a comment that pull him completely to a stop. he knows there's more at play, magics he doesn't understand and he's not sure he ever will, but until now he'd had a general sense that things were at least vaguely normal. time, space, magic. now? ]

A few months? [ the words feel wrong in his mouth, weighted all wrong when they roll off his tongue. months. months. sirius and remus, here- had they made their own deal? had the orbitors come to them? james had assumed it was his because he didn't think a deal made to save all of his loved ones would need to be made multiple times over, but maybe he was wrong. maybe it was luck that they'd talked to lily, that they'd brought harry, that sirius and remus were here. but then sirius says things like same point in time and what age he was and james' mouth sets into a frown.

he hadn't thought about time. he hadn't thought that this would all be different. james thinks back to the way lily had looked at him, eyes wide, did he wipe your memory? to sirius' wiry frame, the jauntiness of his face. james feels suddenly quite sick, the implications of what it could all mean, of what lily hadn't been able to say. it washes over him like ice, like the cold water beneath their feet, like watching sirius plummet.

did they say what age. ]

No, they- they didn't. [ he'd been imagining his son, just over fourteen months, getting so big sleeping away somewhere in those pods. it's why he'd been hurrying, why they needed help. his son, his baby, was around here somewhere and-

time. same time. nearly from the same point in time. james' eyes fall to the floor in front of them for a moment, needing something that isn't moving to ground him as the thoughts start to spin. his arm is still around sirius' shoulder, the familiar set of it helping keep him standing, but the more things start to set together the more he feels the ground under him starting to creak. ] I assumed he'd just be a baby. Just- the same as-

[ but then he looks back over to sirius, eyes wide with this list of sudden, overwhelming realizations. ] What age would he be?

[And Sirius belays his own sinking feeling in favor of grabbing hold of James' arm, trapping him with that brief weight as if to keep him there for good. Only one of them can be overwhelmed at a time. Counterweights, keeping one another together.

It's all right, he does not say. Because it is not all right. James should have lived. Lily should have lived. Harry--]

He's brilliant, James.

[Sirius says that with full confidence.]

He was thirteen when I saw him last. And he's brilliant.

[There's more to it. Would Sirius rather talk about Harry? Bet ever sickle on it. But he has to tell James.]

The way time works, here--there's no way to explain it. The magic that runs this whole thing, it can bring anyone from any time. They've got Newt bloody Scamander running about, the one who wrote the textbook. He's younger than I am, I think. No beard at all.

[As light as he's being, he's still got that grip on James' arm. In case there was any thought about a lack of support, or a chance to pull away.]

[ he does shake, a kind of collection of tremors that starts in his feet and move up to his knees. he wants to collapse, he wants to shift, he wants to be prongs and he wants to run because it all settles too much too fast.

voldemort came to godric's hollow

sirius' hands are tight, they're solid, and james' attention shifts. back to his hands, back to the hallway, back to them. sirius grips onto his arm, and james is centered by it, the presence, the act, just him being here after all of these months in hiding without any contact at all, having sirius around is enough to make james feel more whole. he can settle, he can stand, he can do this because sirius is here and lily is okay.

and harry is brilliant. harry is thirteen years old, and brilliant.

harry survived. harry was alive. harry.

james feels his attention drift for a moment, a kind of off-kilter collection of ideas. he's brilliant, he's thirteen, he's at school, he's in his third year, is he a gryffindor? does he play quidditch? they're all things james wants to know, things he needs to know, but with that knowledge comes the crushing realization that he doesn't know. it sinks a lot like a stone in his gut, he doesn't know, and he won't know, but sirius pulls him back out of it again. ]

Newt Scamander? You mean- [ yes, that is exactly what he means. time. it's weird, and it's off, and it makes no sense at all. james has to be okay with that, now, because that's just how it is. it's off, it's all bloody off, but they're okay. he turns back to look at sirius again, confused, but back again. away from the dangerous trail of thoughts he'd been going down.

and then, for whatever reason, he snorts. ] Did you even read that one? Care of Magical Creatures. We let it loose in the girls dorm that one time, but beyond that I'm not sure I even remember even looking at it.

I spent more time defacing it than reading it. I'm honestly not sure how to tell him, poor fellow.

[He puts brief pressure on James' arm, a silent all right?. Of course it is still not all right, in the large sense of all right; it is unfair to the highest degree. But James is here., now, and the world ended, so they have this much, at least, a second chance at all of it.]

If we're here, that means anyone could be here. And that includes Harry. There's no way they brought the author of some textbook and left behind your son. We've just got to find him, keep track of him.

['Just', like it's that easy. It will be easy. James is here. The world--or what passes for the world these days--can begin to make sense again, fit itself back into the order that Sirius has been missing. Like having a limb lopped off.

When he looks back at James again, he thinks of a hundred things at once. The last time he saw James, the first time he saw James. Harry, laying on his back on the tatty rug at Godric's Hollow. Harry, in the Shack, white-faced and angry; James in the Shack, with dust in his hair. Very haunted, Moony. Harry astride the hippogriff, impossible and foolhardy and brave to a fault.]

He really is brilliant, James. You'll have to ask Remus for his marks.

We'll just have to break it to him slow. He'll have to understand.

[ he nods - in response to the pressure rather than the comment. it's fine. because no, it's not all right, but he's got his footing and he's got sirius and they're going to find lily. and remus. they find them, and then they'll search for harry. harry- who could be thirteen bloody years old, somewhere around here. the thought makes james' stomach churn, his son, but it's okay. it'll be okay. they'll find him.

sirius keeps talking, making perfect sense with it all too, and james finds himself nodding with it. yes, yes, no, he's right, he's completely right. of course harry is here. of course they'll find him. they'll just need to get out and start searching. james' hand curls around sirius' shirt, still feeling the echos of the tremors but knowing, knowing it'll be fine.

despite it all, though, james laughs once at the idea of marks. at the idea of his son's marks, that remus would know. it seems too strange to be true, but when he looks back to sirius again - the age, the stretch of his skin, what seems to be slowly a slowly filling hollow look - and his laughter dies off. ]

Marks. [ the last image he has of harry is him toddling around the living room, barely walking. now sirius is talking marks, and school, and he really is brilliant.

the next laugh he gives is quieter, weaker in strength, in breadth. ] He is Lily's son, that's not much of a surprise. [ and then, like a switch being flicked back into place, james stands a bit straighter. the mention of lily, even if it was his own doing, tended to have that effect on him - and with a glance back in the direction they'd been walking, he motions his head. ] C'mon- we need to get back to her. She wasn't- [ well. but he stops, unable to bring himself to say it. ] Let's get back so we can look for Harry.

[She wasn't, unfinished. Sirius doesn't need it to be finished, he can work it out by the quick halt, forestalls any other elaboration by nodding, once. Right. Just best friend things, mentally working out what the other one means so you can get on with it. Everything he has to say to James could fill a textbook of its own, even if it was twelve empty years of Azkaban, there is still so much to say, but he knows James. Lily, Harry: important. He will not hold him here.

They start off, then, in the direction James has indicated. Sirius keeps his grip on James, no matter how awkward it makes the walk. He will let him go eventually. Not yet.]

Did you pick a place where you'd meet her up, or were you just trusting yourself to find her on your own?

[ they start off, and james finds himself subconsciously stepping back to sirius' side. there is less joviality to it, as he finds that he hasn't been able to quite shake what was said. but that's where the best friend comes into play, where sirius steps in and fills the space and doesn't let go of him, the two still walking off down the hall. it's the push pull, the give and take, the filling the space whenever the other fall behinds.

james feels a bit like he's falling behind even now, distracted as they keep walking, but then there's sirius. ]

Yeah- it's where we met when we woke up. [ he blinks, trying to push out the thoughts still speeding by. thirteen. he's brilliant. like james wouldn't know. like james can't know. voldemort came to godric's hollow. it lurches around in james' stomach, thinking about how he left lily there, to split up to find sirius and remus. if she came from that, if she knows what happened.

another fistful of fabric and james blinks again. no. not important right now. lily is important. getting back to lily is important. ] Near the pods, I can show you. [ he gets his footing back a bit more, starts to actually move back into the room. ] If she's not there, we're supposed to send a patronus. Or use whatever- [ he motions towards the strange device thing sirius had pocketed after sending whatever it was he'd sent. ] Something to get her attention. To let her know I found you. Though if she's found Remus then she'd be heading back there anyway...

[Sirius nods--not absently, fully present, because he's here with James and nothing has ever quite seized his attention like James. At the same time, he flicks through other thoughts, Harry and then Lily, when he thinks of her he thinks of the neat slant of her handwriting, her laughing with her chin on his shoulder while they danced at their wedding and before that too, in the Leaky Cauldron, in the cottage, it always seemed as if it was raining in those days and the chance to laugh felt like uncovering gold you'd forgotten about--and then he thinks of Harry, again, Lily's eyes and James' face and something else, too, something brave and wonderful and brilliant.

His device buzzes just then, and when he checks the message, a grin flickers over his features. He holds it so James can see. Contact name REMUS, simple straightforward message, just four characters: LILY.]

Better than owling in a lot of ways, isn't it. Faster, if nothing else. [He tucks the device back into his pocket.

And then a sudden thought occurs to him, and this time when he grins over at James, it's almost a smirk, and definitely familiar.]

Think we can beat them there?

[ it's easier, james finds, having sirius there. it's always that way, he knows, but it's a specific moment where they are walking and his arm is still around sirius that he realizes, belatedly, how would i have done this without him. it doesn't matter, now, because sirius is here and lily is here and remus is here, but the almost-shock of it settles uncomfortably in him.

the device buzz jerks him away from that, though. his eyes following sirius' hand, the object, and then the screen. all he really understands are the names, REMUS and LILY and it's fine, all over again.

the smile he gives is relief - it means less waiting, it means they'll all meet up together again, it means-

harry. ]

Yeah. [ the agreement comes out a bit distracted, james' mind still trying to figure out a safe place to stand among all of this, and that's when sirius grins. really, truly, grins, and like a shock james is back to it again, jerked out of whatever place he'd been sinking and pulled directly into a familiar state of being. competition, excitement, james and sirius. ]

I would bloody hope so. [ james is grinning too, his eyes alight. he glances down the hall, then back to sirius, slowly unhooking his arms from him. ] The question is. Can you keep up?

[Can he keep up. Sirius--mostly bone and sinew, looking quite underfed and hollowed out, and only a little less shifty by virtue of clothes that aren't a prison uniform--looks over at James.]

Better than keep up.

[And without further warning, he transforms--because of course he transforms, and James will have been anticipating that. That all-over inside out feeling which resolves into fur, four legs, a tail, an itch between his shoulderblades which is really the instinct to run. And he does, from zero to gallop without notice.]

[ james is already transforming before sirius has even finished his four words, the shift as easy to him as breathing. one moment it was james, and then it is prongs, tall and lean and already moving.

prongs does hesitate for a second - just long enough to see fur and dog and friend and then he's taking off down the hallway, his feet barely touching the ground. he can't remember the last time he did this, or was able to do this, which is part of the reason why he takes off like he does without any sense of worry of other people in the hallway or where they'll go.

prongs knows where they're going, of course, but the adrenaline of being able to go at all has him turning the long way down a hallway, just needing a little extra stretch to run. he doesn't have to check if padfoot is there with him. he knows he is like he knows where his feet need to go or which corner he needs to round.

one more minute. sixty second. they'll be there. ]

[Padfoot is there, of course, dogging Prongs' hooves. What he lacks in length of leg and stride, he makes up for in concentration and spirit--head low, ears tucked back to streamline him, covering as much ground as he can in each bound. He does not know where he is going, so he gives Prongs the lead for a bit, careful to keep up, to close the gap between them so he can put on a burst of speed at the last moment.

Scents are flickering to life in the corridors as they run. Chill clinical smell of the ship, the pods, whatever is in the pods which plays hell on canine senses, something that he cannot recognise--and little ribbons of smell, dull because he does not know them, strangers that have come and gone, crossed and recrossed--and there is the James smell, and the Prongs smell, but that's because Prongs is in front of him, and Padfoot tries to unbraid the James smell even as he tries to keep pace with a bloody running stag--

And all the while his tail is wagging, his heart is playing a happy high rhythm in his chest. He is the happiest; this is the happiest. Running with Prongs. There is nothing better, nothing nothing nothing, and if he could spare the breath to bark, he would.

Instead, he puts on a burst of speed, just to try to show off.]

[ everything about this is different - different place, different halls, different smells, different sounds. prongs can't quite see the whole of it yet, but the memory of walking down the halls and seeing them from other angles earlier gives him enough room to move. enough room to run. and that's what he does, lets his legs stretch and dash, weaving back and forth across the hallway to avoid obstacles and to just feel how nice it is to move.

padfoot is there. he can tell before he can see, and he doesn't take the time to really see, knowing for one that this is a race and for two, it's a chance to let go. and he does. running through these halls as prongs means that for once, in months, this is all he needs to worry about.

the rush off down another hallway, letting padfoot gain a little ground - the burst of speed working directly in prongs' favor, as it pushes padfoot further in front of him at the exact moment that prongs makes a drastic, immediate turn into the room to their right. it's another twenty or so meters still they're back to the spot, and prongs takes off towards it, uncaring of the looks they're certainly, already, starting to attract. ]

[The gallump of stag hooves is better than any music, and Padfoot has a hell of a time not stopping and wriggling around to demonstrate his excitement, or at least getting a good tail-wagging in there. This is what he was made for.

Prongs' sudden turn surprises him, and Padfoot goes past that corridor before he realises. He barks, as he skids to a halt and wheels around, takes off after Prongs like a shot--still barking, the sound echoing around the cool corridor and bouncing, weirdly, off of the pods that are around them. They're definitely getting some looks now, and Padfoot has abandoned the chasing of the smell entirely, is content only to run after Progs, nipping at his heels, happy happy happy--]

[ if he so felt like it, that would be perfectly alright with prongs, as any stops to wag tails would end with prongs pulling far enough away that the winner is clear. as it stands, prongs is still ahead, still faster, but it is close.

not as close after the sharp turn, and prongs takes off across the large room where the pods have all collected. his heart is beating fast, fast, faster and with it his legs move, faster, faster, faster. he jumps through pods, avoids people, turns corners and makes it through into the next aisle - sliding unceremoniously a bit around the next turn but righting himself easily enough.

padfoot's barks echo around the room, and it puts prongs at ease. familiar noises are enough, even in an unfamiliar place. even if it's no forest, no muggle road, no home, it's close enough.

the spot he told they'd meet lily is right ahead, and prongs dives back behind a row of pods, just about jumping over another poor person who happened to be there, unaffected by the looks and attention. almost there almost there almost there repeating over and over in his head. ]

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