(01 : A TWENTY YEAR DARK NIGHT
AND NOW I SEE DAYLIGHT)

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JAMES POTTER AND SIRIUS BLACK didn't attract trouble because they were trouble. Ever since the two were sorted into Gryffindor together at age eleven, they lived and breathed mischief — whether that be enchanting the Slytherins' robes to glow in the dark or charming the suits of armour to do the conga around the Great Hall, the pair had a habit of leaving chaos and laughter in their wake. And it was no different the night before the school's annual Halloween Feast.

Despite it being more than a month into Fifth Year, the Marauders had been notably lacking in the pranking department and thus it was decided the famed group needed to return to their usual tricks with a literal bang. Although some students assumed their lack of activity was because they had matured — as if! — it was really because all four of them were busy making a magical map. Not to mention James, Sirius and Peter were secretly attempting to transform into animagi for the sake of their werewolf friend.

      "Are you done yet, mate?" James tapped his foot in impatience, a tight ball of nerves unravelling in his stomach. It was Sirius who suggested they rig the fourth floor mirror with a caterwauling charm that would sound anytime a student walked past the wall, their original plan of fireworks and dungbombs not satisfying the boy's pranking desires. Of course James was on board — the two already being there to finish the mirror's sketch on the Marauders' Map — but he couldn't ignore how eerie the fourth floor was at night. James was convinced the corridor was always a few degrees colder than the rest of the castle. "Mate. Sirius. Sirius, I said are you — are you really looking in the mirror right now?"

     When James spun around from where he was keeping watch, he was only half-surprised to find that Sirius was running his hands through his hair, attempting some sort of quiff. Unperturbed by James' minor scolding — which was undeniably laced with amusement — Sirius shrugged. "Can you blame me?"

     "Did you at least do the spell?"

     "Oh, that. Uh . . . no." Sirius was wholly unabashed about the matter, yet shifted and became more somber a moment later. "It's not working. It's like — it's like the mirror is alive, like it's absorbing the magic."

     "Maybe you're just doing it wrong," suggested James, twirling his wand between his fingers as he strutted towards Sirius. "I mean, the mirror is alive? You sound about as bloody batty as that Trewlaney kid telling me I'll die on Halloween night."

     The chime of a clock echoed in the distance, causing Sirius to grin widely. "Guess that means it's midnight and officially Halloween," he teased, reaching over to wrap an arm around his friend and ruffle his already messy hair. Sirius fondly recalled how a frizzy-haired First Year had knocked into James on the Hogwarts Express and forewarned him of his impending doom, providing the other three Marauders with an abundance of jokes for the entire train ride. "Glad you decided to spend your final hours with me, Jamesey."

     "Oh, shove off!" cried out James, failing to hold his glare between their shared laughter. "Merlin, who did I piss off in another life if the last thing I have to see before I croak it is your ugly mug?"

      Their plans for the night long forgotten, Sirius feigned offence. "Oi, take that back. It's the furthest thing from ugly. In fact, I've been told —"

     Leaning back against the mirror, James smirked. "Did you know your jawline is crooked?"

     Then everything happened in slow motion. In an attempt to get a better look at his reflection again, Sirius tried to push James out of the way and the latter then tripped over the silvery cloak that was draped across his arms. He stumbled forwards and backwards — like a spinning top — before he landed on his arse, barely managing a 'protego' before the mirror slipped from where it was precariously hanging with an almighty and deafening smash.

     All pretences were immediately dropped by Sirius and worries of being caught were abandoned in favour of worry for his best friend. "James?"

      "I'm alright," the Gryffindor breathed out in partial disbelief, dropping his arms from where they were braced over his head. "Suppose that serves us right. No doubt Filch and his demon cat will be out here any second. Or if we're really unlucky," the boy pretended to shiver, "Minnie."

     No longer in the mood for jokes, Sirius offered a hand to James and tugged him into a standing position again. "Come on, we —"

     A low moan of pain pierced the taut air, interrupting Sirius and startling James.

     In unison, the two whipped their heads in the direction of the noise and faltered at the sight of a body amongst the broken glass. A young girl lay unconscious with thin lines of blood streaking her pale face and staining her crisp white shirt. Matted, dull brown hair fell limply around her head and her body was twisted at such an awkward angle that she half-looked like a doll, limbs tangled and bent in all directions. Although she wore Hogwarts uniform — the signature blue and bronze trims of Ravenclaw apparent even in the dim light — she had not been in the corridor seconds prior.

     Considering he was someone who was often running away from the scene of the crime, it might have seemed peculiar that James Potter immediately ran towards the girl. He didn't think twice about the consequences of being caught because all he saw was someone who needed help. Healing spells, memorised from the countless hours he spent in the Hospital Wing, slipped from his mouth as he crouched over the body. His touch was molten against the ice of her skin and there was a frenzied note to his movements as he searched for a pulse.

     Thump. Thump. Thump.

     "She's alive." There was a breathless quality to his voice, one that skirted the edge of madness. "Do you recognise her?"

     More tentative than his friend, Sirius simply shook his head. "Looks about our age though. Where did she even come from? Nobody was around. The Map —"

     "It doesn't matter now." James hopelessly smoothed out some wrinkles in her school skirt, a harsh crease forming on his brow in the process. He didn't know how he would live with himself if one of their pranks actually ended up hurting someone. "We need to take her to Pomfrey. I tried to heal some superficial cuts, but I —"

     Another moan cut him off, causing him to turn away from Sirius and resume his hovering over the stirring Ravenclaw. It felt like an age before her eyelids fluttered open, but the relief when they finally did was instantaneous, filling his chest like a hot air balloon. Curious and confused, she blinked up at him and he smiled softly.

     "You're awake." Upon registering how lost she appeared, his previous confidence waned. "I, uh, hi. We're going to take you to the nurse and get help, okay? Just try to keep your eyes open until then."

     Already fighting against the familiar heaviness in her bones, she struggled to nod. Eyes more hazel than brown stared encouragingly down at her. In spite of the inherited darkness of his eyes, they seemed to be flecked with gold — like specs of stardust illuminating the boy's already bright face. Her throat was sore and yet still she murmured, "You have pretty eyes."

"You do too," mused James, slowly hooking his hands around her waist before beckoning Sirius for extra support. "Now, hold on."

    And despite her fears, she did, because looking into James Potter's eyes was like seeing daylight for the first time.

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It wasn't uncommon to find James Potter in the Hospital Wing — between Quidditch, pranks and befriending a werewolf, he was practically on first name basis with the matron — but it was uncommon to find him willingly missing breakfast for anyone other than one of the Marauders. Yet, he found himself feeling oddly responsible for the brunette he had carried to the Hospital Wing in the dead of night. By the time they reached the nurse, the girl had dropped into unconsciousness once again and he was shooed away with Sirius whilst Poppy Pomfrey called for Headmaster Dumbledore.

"You heard what Poppy said las—" Sirius began, considerably less eager to meet the girl who was the reason he had detention for the rest of the term.

"No visitors, I know, but when have we ever cared about rules?" Peeking through the gap in the door, James noticed the coast was clear and deduced Madam Pomfrey was in the Great Hall herself. "Look, we don't have to stay long, I just want to check if she's okay. It was us who broke the mirror and it's our fault that she's hurt. Godric, I could've sworn she was dead when I first saw her."

"James," the Gryffindor began warily, "I don't think the mirror fell on her, I think she fell out of the mirror."

Taken aback, James halted. "That can't be possible. Surely someone would have known if —"

"Poppy didn't even recognise her and Poppy knows everyone!" rationalised Sirius. "And there was nobody on that corridor except us. You know the Map never lies."

"Right — Well — I reckon —" Unsure what to make of his friend's suspicions, James tripped over his words until he ultimately settled for yanking Sirius inside the school ward with a short huff.

Lacking the same enthusiasm, Sirius allowed James to drag him towards the only occupied bed. It wasn't that he necessarily lacked the same compassion as his friend, it was more the unpleasant memories that were dredged up at the sight of someone so bloodied and helpless. Shameful as it was, he had frozen and now was left cursing himself for not being more composed in the face of danger. That would have to change if he ever wanted to survive the war.

Plopping down on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, Sirius observed James. He was playing with a loose thread on his robe sleeve — a nervous habit — and seemed awfully uncomfortable upon realising the girl was sleeping. Itching to break the sudden silence in the room, Sirius blurted, "Do you think she's a nun?"

"Sirius!"

"What?" Sirius shrugged, the mood now lighter than it was before. "Her school skirt went down to her knees. It's a valid question."

Rolling his eyes, James found there was a snarky retort ready on the tip of his tongue when an abrupt gasp from beside him diverted his attention. Wide-eyed, the sleeping girl awoke with a start.

Apprehensive and still tired, the brunette panicked upon spotting two strange boys surrounding her and grabbed the only thing within her reach — the quill she had used earlier that morning after a particularly puzzling visit from Albus Dumbledore. "Who — who are you? Madam Pomfrey said nobody is allowed in here today."

In amusement, Sirius scoffed. "Well, we're here. What are you going to do? Stab us to death with a quill?"

"Ignore Sirius, that's what I usually do," James rushed out, knowing Sirius Black was an acquired taste for many. "I'm James. I don't know if you remember, but we're the ones who found you last night. It gave us quite fright and I, uh, wanted to see if you're fine. And possibly apologise for our part in any injuries. We didn't mean to break the mirror. Really."

Furrowing her brow, the girl did her best to keep up with the Gryffindor that appeared to be talking a mile a minute. "Um, you're . . . forgiven? And thank you, I guess. I'm physically fine, but I don't really remember much of anything."

"Do you at least know your name?" James asked, chuckling. "You look like you should be in our year, but I've never seen you around before."

Swallowing, she furtively glanced at her left hand where two words were neatly written in her familiar cursive. "Persephone Buchanan."

"Persephone," James tested the name on his tongue before wrinkling his nose. "That's kind of a mouthful. How about Seph?"

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A.N: It has been too long since I updated this, but I'm back and very excited to properly write this. Intro chapters are always quite dull, but we'll learn more and start to follow Seph from here on. It originally wasn't meant to be from James' third person POV, but Seph's would've been 2000 words of *confusion intensifies*. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought.

Question, what would be your patronus memory?