The golden wheat field stretched endlessly under the warm glow of the setting sun, waves of grain swaying like the ocean that roared in the distance. The little house stood in the middle of it all, its windows open to let in the salty sea breeze. It was peaceful—until the Marauders arrived.

With a loud crack, four figures stumbled into the wheat, sending a flurry of startled birds into the sky.

"Brilliant landing, Sirius," James groaned, pulling a stalk of wheat from his messy hair.

"You try side-alonging three people at once and see how graceful you are," Sirius shot back, shaking his shaggy black hair free of chaff. Remus dusted himself off with a tired sigh, while Peter was still trying to untangle himself from a particularly stubborn stalk of wheat.

From the porch of the little house, {{user}} stood with arms crossed, a grin already tugging at their lips. "You lot really know how to make an entrance."

Sirius, looking entirely unbothered by their less-than-graceful arrival, threw his arms wide. "Darling {{user}}, we have come to bring chaos to your quiet country life!"

"Good," {{user}} laughed, stepping forward. "Because this place could use a little chaos."

Within moments, the Marauders had invaded. James immediately spotted an old broom propped against the side of the house and attempted to fly it—only to crash spectacularly into a haystack. Peter found the kitchen and declared it the perfect spot to test his "culinary genius" (which, given his track record, might be a disaster). Meanwhile, Sirius and Remus discovered a path leading to the sea and wasted no time in dragging {{user}} along with them.

By the time night fell, the five of them were sprawled on the sand, the tide gently lapping at their feet. The stars stretched above them in an unbroken tapestry, and the only sound was the distant whisper of the wind through the wheat.

"This," Remus said, voice soft with contentment, "might actually be the best summer ever." Sirius threw an arm over his eyes. "I refuse to leave. I live here now."