A/N The song ties in the title and gives the book a whole lot more meaning, so i suggest listening to it.

In four seperate homes in Britain, shadows cast over walls under lamplight as four little boys experienced very different evenings. Each five year old had only just recently become aware of the mystical world they lived in.

James Potter, ready for bed in his nightclothes, giggled and ran around the house. His parents, already up in years, made little effort to corral him. Fleamont Potter collapsed, out of breath, on the couch as James ran in circles, attempting to rouse his parents. It had been a particularly long day in the office, but nothing brightened his day more than coming home to little James. Their little miracle. Euphemia was in the kitchen, putting the final touches on a pre-bed treat for her little boy. James rocketed to the couch, throwing himself on his father's lap, begging for attention. His father wrestled playfully with him, taking his young son up in his arms and rocking him. James shreiked in delight and wrapped his little arms around his father's neck.

"James!" Euphemia called. James knew this meant that the wonderful smells that had been wafting from the kitchen for the last hour had finally cumulated into his daily pre-bedtime goodie. He struggled to be released from his father's arms and giggled uncontrollably as his father only gripped him tighter, Fleamot threw James over his shoulder, and James laughed loudly, pounding on his father's back in delight as he trompped to the kitchen and dropped James into his chair.

Euphemia smiled fondly at her two boys, and gingerly placed a tart- fresh from the oven- in front of James on a napkin. James seized the tart with his hands and took a big bite out of it. Jelly oozed over his fingers, down his chin, and dropped onto the napkin his mother had provided. Euphemia and Fleamont laughed merrily as their son greedily wolfed down his treat. When he was done, he proudly showcased his messy hands. Euphemia was ready with warm wet towel to wipe them clean.

The Potters took their boy to bed, tucking him tightly under the covers that had just been warmed to James' liking by their house elf. Euphemia hummed him a song (she couldn't sing well), and Fleamont told him a wild story. Euphemia interrupted with little coughs every once in a while and kicked her husband gently in the shins if his story started to wander, or if it became a little too serious for James. Then they each kissed him on the head, he kissed them each on the cheek, and they wished him goodnight, leaving a faint light on in his room so he wouldn't have nightmares. Then he drifted comfortably off to sleep.

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Peter Pettigrew amused himself by prodding a small bug on the dusty, wooden floor of the little cottage he lived in with his mother's wand. She often left it laying around, and Peter enjoyed watching the bug grow and shrink, shreiking shrilly in different pitches depending on it's size, in terror of the little boy prodding it with a giant magic stick.

Peter absentmindedly pushed his shaggy hair out of his face and peered down at the bug, which had fallen over and started twitching. He frowned. He held the bug in his hand and watched as it went still. A little tear fell down his face. With a forceful yank , he pulled open the old front door, which always stuck at a weird angle when you set it. He laid the little bug on a leaf outside, and fashioned a sort of coffin by a tying a piece of grass around it. He used his hands to dig a shallow hole in the dirt, and, placing the little bug in his grave, covered him back up in dirt. He impaled an unceremonious twig in the soil at the head of the bugs grave and observed a few moments of silence, as long as his small attention span could muster. Then he went back inside.

He wandered the house, looking for comfort in his mother. He found her, asleep on the couch. She had spent a long day working. Even little Peter knew better than to wake her up. She needed her rest. He stood there, staring at her, sniffling sadly for a few minutes. Then he trailed through the house, somewhat aimlessly. He needed to wash his hands, but he couldn't reach the sink. He lifted his hands above his head and jumped, desperately trying to reach over the lip of the sink.

Accepting defeat, he searched the ground for some help. He pushed a sketchy cardboard box over to the sink and stood on top of it. He just managed to reach the faucet. He agressively rubbed his hands together under the running water until the grime was washed away. He had just managed to shut off the faucet when the cardboard box gave way under his feet. He crashed to the kitchen floor, his head slamming on the stone painfully. It throbbed. He whimpered, and touched his head. When he withdrew his hand it was sticky with blood.

He trailed through the house once more. He found an old rag and tied it sloppily around his head. He yawned sleepily. He was tired. He was still sniffling, and he was starting to feel a tad dizzy. He wandered back to the main room. If his mum had even stirred after his fall just a moment ago, there was no evidence of it. He seized a blanket in his little hands and pulled it over her. Then he wandered to his little bed, and laid down to go to sleep, sniffling and alone.

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Sirius Black was sitting on the staircase in his enormous home.

His mom was screaming again.

Sirius didn't understand what she was screaming at. He kept catching words like "pureblood", "muggle", "curse", and "Voldemort".

Sirius hated it when she screamed. It wasn't as if she was very caring anyways, but it always made him nervous when she screamed. She'd scream if she knew he was out of bed. She had sent him to bed an hour ago, an hour after Regulus, who was littler. Sirius' father was yelling angrily. At some times he sounded as if he was trying to console Sirius' mother, but he sounded just as mad and if anything his efforts only spurred her on.

"Sirius?" Sirius turned around to see his little brother standing in the hallway. His curly hair was a little too long and unkept. He had his blanket in one hand, and a mangled and well-loved stuffed snoke under the crook of his other arm. Sirius immedieately beckoned his younger brother over.

His heart sunk a little. She always waited until Regulus was asleep to start screaming. Regulus was her precious baby, and for some reason she managed to see through her rage enough to realize that a three-year-old shouldn't have to see his mother like that. Normally, Regulus slept like a rock.

Regulus stumbled to his brother, who pulled him onto his lap. Regulus drowsily snuggled into his brother's chest. Sirius gently took the blanket from his hands and wrapped him in it.

"Why is momma sad?" he muttered sleepily, his small round eyes staring up at him with an innocent expression. Sirius wrapped his arms around Regulus' small frame and rocked him slightly against him. Not knowing the answer himself, he settled on the vague path.

"It's late. She just needs some sleep. Why don't you get some too, buddy?" Regulus nodded vaguely into his shoulder. Their mother's intelligible screams settled into more recognizable ones. Sirius was able to catch pieces of their conversation.

"-can't even believe it! These people are infecting our world! These people are gaining places in our ministry!"

"We still have a firm hold on the ministry-"

"These people are everywhere!" she cried. "That muggle-loving dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts! It's not too far off when Sirius will be going to school! And Regulus! What if they teach them all of this muggle-loving there? Worse yet, those muggles will be at school with our kids! This is absolutely ridiculous!" As his mother's temper rose, Sirius was no longer able to understand her. Regulus whimpered softly and snuggled deeper into Sirius' chest. Sirius hugged his brother tighter.

He didn't know what was happening, but even then he knew that it was important.

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Remus Lupin didn't dare even breathe. There was a loud thumping outside his bedroom window. He pulled the covers over his head and focused on laying perfectly still, though frightened tremors shook his little body. He tried to convince himself that it was just the wind. Everything was going to be alright.

The window shattered, and a gust of wind filled the room with an awful chill. Remus remained still. With a loud thump, something leapt through the window and into his room. Remus' blanket was ripped off of him. He let out a cry of terror. A large, strange man was standing over his bed. He laughed and it shook the bedroom. Remus could hear his parents in the other room.

He cried out as the man vaulted onto the bed and crawled closer and closer to him. Remus kicked his sheets free and scrambled back, but he was cornered. He cried, terrified, as the man got closer and closer.

"Help!" he sobbed. "Help! Help!" Then the man attacked. He slashed at Remus. Gashes opened in the child's thigh and stomach. With a menacing growl, he brought his claws down once more, tearing them across Remus' face. Remus screamed and cried. He tried to get away but the man grabbed his wrist and threw him down like a rag doll.

He laughed menacingly.

"You can thank your dad for this, kid," the man said, still clutching the boy's wrist painfully tight. "He'll know better than to mess with me in the future." Then he sank his teeth into Remus' arm. At that moment, Remus' father burst into the bedroom, throughing hexes, curses, all sorts of spells. The man was driven out of the window and into the night.

But it was too late.

Remus lay limp on his bed. His mother screamed and ran to him. He was still breathing, but he needed immediate medical attention. His bedclothes were ripped to shreds and soaked in blood.

Remus would live, but he would never be the same.

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These four boys and their circumstances were so different.

One, with a cushy and happy life.

Another with a cushy and miserable life.

The next with a poor and lonely life.

The last, doomed to live a cursed life.

"Lily, take Harry and run! I'll hold him off! Run!"

"I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for!"

"What would you have done, Sirius?"

"How can I forgive myself when I knowingly risked passing on my own condition to an innocent child?!"

They couldn't be more different.

Yet fate would bring them together.

And fate would tear them apart.