With the wedding getting that much closer with every passing day, Darren naturally had to consider the fact that he was going to be seeing a lot of the people that he used to know, all at once, and that he was going to have to be prepared for it. Some of them would probably be peeved that he hadn't kept contact (which he totally didn't blame them for), and he was really only glad that he'd gotten the initial 'hey, I'm back' thing done with Trevor already. That was one less to deal with. Eventually, he was going to have to talk to James and Ty, which normally would have been way cool, but he was betting he was going to get the third degree. Rightfully so, but he still wasn't looking forward to it.

Just thinking of them naturally made him remember the last thing they'd all gotten up to. It had been positively fantastic, the four of them setting up a 'trap' for the Slytherin quidditch team that had gone so far as to pull other friends of theirs into the mix. He knew for a fact that James had brought Albus into that one, and he'd definitely heard that Ty had recruited Marco, plus whoever else they'd needed. It was Slytherin's last practice before the Quidditch cup (which was against Gryffindor, and only made the prank all that much more amazing). They'd taken the field with brooms that had been tampered with, little charms that made some go too fast and some too slow, whereas others turned upside down as soon as they hit a certain altitude, and others jumped and bucked if you went at all fast. Some had even taken to flying backwards as soon as they took off. The sheer variety of the charms had been what had involved so many bodies, since they all did a different one, based entirely on their magical preferences. Darren had personally set a few to transfigure into giant geese as soon as they took off. Even better? They'd ALL been rigged with a sticking charm, so that it wasn't so easy to get off of them (except the ones that bucked).

It had been mass chaos, and then Marco had taken a load of pictures of it. Darren still had his copies (since they'd all gotten some).

Afterwards, they'd used the Marauder's Map to get into Hogsmeade and get treats, which they'd then enjoyed while they laughed at the Slytherins' expense. Darren remembered it fondly, and found himself walking through Diagon Alley with a smile across his features just at the memory. He really needed to see what those morons were up to, and if they'd even survived their first summer after graduation. Sometimes, he'd wondered if they all would. He'd have to grab Trev and insist on a get together.

People grew up; this was to be expected. Teenagers would mature into adults, find lives away from their friends, and if they were to grow apart, well, this too was the process of getting older. Yet, despite all of this, Ty had somehow always imagined the same group growing decrepit together, like the withering chums they were. They could be soul mates in a completely non-sexual way, connected by their homes via an elaborate tunnel system located underneath the heart of London. There would be grand adventures inside--they'd fight disgusting, overgrown creatures with fangs the length of their arms and it would just be glorious. Glorious.

But it wasn't so glorious, in the end.

Darren, one-fourth of the "Gryffindor Dream Team," had taken flight to the States and had likewise abducted those plans along for the ride. Ty had kept in contact with all four of them, because he would be damned if he didn't make the effort, but it had been so much easier when they were all in the same general location. No one had plans of chasing after Darren, but occasionally they joked about the idea. A group vacation, they'd called it. As if they would ever find the opportunity to go somewhere so far away together? But it had been a nice concept, at the very least.

He often saw James, and Trevor was hardly a ghost in his life, but obviously Darren was a missing link. This was why, when he'd received the news that the wayward auror had somehow washed up on their seaside, he had been completely for the idea of destroying him. Not literally, of course, but in a nonviolent, alcoholic sort of way. And well, perhaps there would be violence, but that was something entirely different pertaining solely to their blood-alcohol levels. You win some, you lose some, as the omnipresent "they" say.

That, though, was how he wound up here. He and the rest of the team (because they were more of a group-oriented, single minded entity than an army) had concocted the marvelous idea of sneaking up on--and ultimately scaring the shit out of--their dear, American-tainted friend. It seemed like a simple idea and sure enough, when Darren came into view, it was suddenly the simplest act to have ever been done. Ty casually strolled by Darren at a decent enough distance to seem like part of the scenery before making a sharp right turn and suddenly connecting himself with the brunet. His arm flung around his shoulders and he pulled the other wizard towards him, grinning wildly. "Something smells awful! Oh wait, it's just you! It's the smell of a man who ran the hell away from everyone most amazing for lesser, completely unimpressive people! And then the traitor returns! Y'see, this story just gets better, Darren!"

There wasn't a trace of anger, or anything that even remotely resembled a betrayed man's voice in his tone. He was humored, friendly, and even excited as he released his hold and lightly punched Darren in the shoulder. "Bastard, thanks for letting us know you were back in town. It's a damn good thing we took matters into our own hands!" Because wasn't it just always?

"Couldn' 'a said it better m'self, Tyke!"

A boisterous and entirely too amused voice rather suddenly emerged from behind Darren's other shoulder; ever the comedien, James had timed his own approach to match the exact moment that his accomplice had engaged their target in their good-natured teasing, and as he was prone to doing, James had followed suit with a hearty palm to Darren's free shoulder.

"Now, to be completely fair, America hasn't done a bad number on our traitor here. His wardrobe has improved by loads," he snarled, crossing his arms with his characteristic swagger as they clipped along at the same pace, "Though it's certainly no dragonhide."

His words belied the almost giddy sort of excitement that tinged his speech and forced his lips apart in a grin. Despite their 'harsh' treatment of Darren, the fact that they were quite suddenly nearly complete in number undeniably called for a celebration of sorts. The years hadn't passed without incident for James, who seemed to retain the tongue-in-cheek sense of humor that had marked him in their school days despite the minutely more 'mature' air with which he carried himself.

"By 'took matters into our own hands', Tyke here means that a little bird told us you were moping 'bout Mungo's. Figures that you'd go running off into trouble without giving us advance warning, mate." His words weren't without truth, though James couldn't say that he was wholly surprised by the manner of his friend's return from across the pond. It was how the four always worked, essentially - each playing to his own strengths - and despite Darren's long absence, James couldn't blame him for up and leaving.

Being a prat about communication, however, was another matter entirely. Shoving his own hands into the pockets of his own dragonhide jacket, James combed his fingers roughly through his dark, matted locks - a habit born of necessity in his youth and now continued for the sake of habit.