Chapter Text
Everything was meant to go smoothly.
The Marauders had been working on the idea for what felt like an eternity: a universal audio translator that would make understanding foreign languages possible in a matter of seconds. It was designed to work both ways in conversation. All one had to do was activate it mentally.
The artefact itself was no larger than a clip, easily fastened and unlikely to draw attention. Subtle. Matte black. Neutral. All that remained was to activate it correctly—and that was all. At least French had posed no issues even at the earliest stage of the magical schematics. For that, they had Black and Pettigrew to thank, whose families had not entirely forgotten their roots.
Naturally, collecting every language in the world had been impossible—there was neither the space nor the capacity for it within the already densely packed chain of runes. Still, they hadn’t needed to scour the school for brave volunteers willing to teach them their native tongues.
The only detail the brightest minds of their generation had neglected to mention…
Was the purpose.
Espionage.
Against the opposing side.
Against Voldemort and his followers.
With each passing year, matters grew steadily worse, and by the end of their seventh year, they had finally reached their limit—at least the four of them: James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew—oh, forgive me, five.
Not long ago, one girl had joined their circle.
Entirely of her own accord. There were no flashy recruitment speeches, no elaborate tricks repeated every Merlin-blessed day.
“Lily, come on—join us! It’ll be brilliant fun!” James exclaimed.
His hazel eyes shone behind his glasses. He looked like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
“I don’t doubt that,” the girl replied, shaking her head, “but I think I’ll manage without it if you’re planning on sneaking into Honeydukes in the middle of the night again.”
“What James means,” Remus said calmly, “is that an extra brain would be useful. We’re working on a rather large project—and we need you.”
Lily Evans raised an eyebrow.
“We’re changing the course of history, Evans!” Sirius added enthusiastically, clapping her on the shoulder. The impact echoed through the bones of the red-haired witch long after the moment had passed. She hurriedly pushed her hair back as it insisted on falling into her mouth.
“No, thank you. You’re a magnet for trouble. Why do you think the professors are always shouting at you?” she said, exhaling slowly.
“They’re afraid of us!” Sirius declared. “Because we act boldly and wildly—but intelligently. And together. Without fear.”
A spark of madness glinted in his blue eyes, a crooked, roguish grin spreading across his face.
“Right,” Lily snorted, folding her arms. “And when you run into that same professor at night, you panic and scatter in all directions.”
She was just about to leave when a short boy with mouse-coloured hair spoke up.
“That’s not true. It’s a strategy—can’t catch what isn’t stolen. Besides, you can’t chase everyone at once. We’re a team. For life. Come on,” Pettigrew said hopefully.
“No,” Lily shook her head.
There was no escape now—the Marauders had surrounded her.
“Flower, we need your light,” James said softly.
The puppy-dog look in his eyes unexpectedly softened the sceptic. As if on cue, rays of midday sunlight streamed in through a nearby window of the Gryffindor common room.
“…Fine,” she rolled her bright emerald eyes at the boys’ triumphant cheers and dramatic bows to the floor.
“Thank you for granting us your favour, oh Queen!”
And although there was no official initiation for Lily Evans into the Marauders, she was certain she was exactly where she needed to be. Determined to see “that troublesome lot and Professor McGonagall’s constant headache” turn into something worth being proud of.
But back to the present.
The entire group was hunched over the artefact, breathing heavily. Three months had already slipped by. In two more, they had exams—and graduation.
They had to test the device before then. It was far easier—and far cheaper—than attempting the work in a proper workshop under the sharp gaze of some irritable old wizard.
And once the final flourish of runes for Norwegian was added, things became interesting—without anyone even asking who would go first.
James picked up the artefact. For a moment, it felt as though the universe itself was quietly suggesting that testing it on humans might be premature.
Potter’s dark hair crackled faintly with static, but no one paid it any mind. It always stuck out in every direction anyway. And the enthusiasm radiating from him could easily be mistaken for a warning sign.
They had made five clips to begin with—one for each of them. With the possibility of distributing them later to trusted individuals. The Longbottoms, for example.
Their classmates still assumed it was just another prank.
Let them.
“So,” Peter said, “I’ll read you a passage, and you’ll retell it… in Portuguese.”
He retrieved the appropriate dictionary from the towering pile and handed it to Remus for verification.
While Lily read the text aloud in her native language, Remus carefully checked James’s response against a conversational Portuguese dictionary, focusing on grammar and pronunciation.
“It’s working perfectly,” Lupin said, his scars seeming lighter somehow. He was genuinely pleased they had calibrated the artefact correctly.
“Spanish next.”
Later came another request.
“And French.”
A new book. Different words. And, naturally, the test subject remained within the group, artefact still in place, to reduce mental strain.
Language after language—until it was finally time to stop.
By the end, their heads were a jumble of words and sounds, but they were satisfied. James didn’t even bother removing the clip before bed. To be fair, they were all exhausted and in no mood for unnecessary effort.
The following morning, the entire group—artefacts still in their ears—set off in search of rumours around Hogwarts, mostly eavesdropping on conversations between foreign students.
James and Lily walked hand in hand like any ordinary couple, careful not to draw attention. James spoke first.
“Do you think we might manage one normal year?”
“I don’t know, James,” Evans replied honestly. “But I’d like to hope so.”
“Then let’s hope together,” he said, squeezing her hand gently.
Lily smiled faintly. Then, noticing something out of the corner of her eye, she leaned closer to James, intending to kiss him.
Don’t forget to listen, you idiot.
She didn’t realise the last word had been only a thought.
Somehow, James heard it anyway.
He looked genuinely hurt.
“Did you just call me an idiot?”
And apparently, he wasn’t the only one.
Because suddenly, Sirius’s voice echoed in both their minds.
Who’s an idiot?
“Yeah, who?” Peter added indignantly, as though he were standing right beside them. What’s going on?
“Seriously—why can I hear your thoughts?” Sirius demanded.
“This shouldn’t be happening,” Remus said, stunned. “The mental activator has somehow linked our minds.”
“That’s… odd. We’ll have to study it,” Lily said.
“Brilliant,” came the collective reply.
“Well then,” Lily added—not with sarcasm, but affection, “it seems I’ll be hearing all your ridiculous ideas now—and stopping you before you try to act on them.”
And mind-reading, it turned out, was only the beginning.
Because they had done something far more dangerous.
They had invented their own language.
The language of the Marauders.
What would it lead to?