Harry Pottaaaaaah!

This is like my favorite series ever, so I don't know why I haven't written anything for it yet. I love the Marauders. They make my entire life.

Yeah, this isn't a romance piece. Just a friendship piece. And I like it that way. So hush.

Eh. My first time dabbling in this series, so I hope it turned out okay. And that anyone who reads it, happens to enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters.

Have a fantastic week!

Love, Sadie

--

It was an evening of celebration, and the entire Gryffindor Tower was involved in the fiasco.

The room was decorated with wide expanses of scarlet and golden drapery, slung across the walls and painting their walls with their expressive threads. Sparks of magic were glittering all over the room, dancing like flying whizbees through the air and raining down onto the carpet like sparkling raindrops. The walls were almost bursting with noise and merriment, and all who came near the tower knew that there was some kind of celebration taking place.

In the middle of it all was a group of boys that were draped with detailed robes, all of them with goggles resting on the tops of their heads and all of them with triumphant expressions. They were whooping loudly, clutching broomsticks, and enjoying the focus that the whole room was giving them. Millions of voices, clamoring loudly, each calling out and crying to make their voices heard.

"Amazing plays, totally amazing!"

"I can't believe that save, that was so awesome!"

"Dude, and that smash, right in to Henderson's face!"

"Way to go, Potter, scoring half our points!"

"Fantastic catch! It was like woosh, and then crash, and then WHOOOOOOO!"

Although most of the members of the team were grinning and soaking in the praise, there was one with more critical eyes, flicking about the crowd as though looking for something specific. His mouth was pulled into his signature grin, one that flashed his pride around like a flag. And then, when he caught the sight of two figures near the back, he detached himself from the group and began to sneak his way through the crowd, brushing off the well-wishers and the enthusiasts with a simple nod-and-smile routine.

When he was out of the grasps of the crowd, he then came alive. Bright, hazel eyes that danced in the lights of the room. A flash of white teeth, held between a wide grin that glinted. A cocky tilt of the head, with messy locks of hair that fell around his head like the room might its own breeze.

The first of the two people in the back immediately flashed a responding smirk, lifting a hand for the first to slap. Laughter emitted from them both and then the barriers fell – they were laughing like brothers, clapping each other's backs, with anticipation for the future delighting their fancy for mischief.

The third looked on with a grin, more preoccupied with the scroll that was in his hands. His eyes were scanning it, watching the moving figures and calculating everything with his scrutinizing eyes. He was just as amused by the antics of the pair in front of him as anyone else, knowing that behind the banter was a friendship that ran deeper than any singular person could understand.

"Padfoot, Prongs," he interrupted, waving the parchment to catch their minimal attention spans. "Come on, we don't have time for this." The tone of irritation in his voice would have been offensive, if not for the note of affection behind it. Only he could truly understand their relationship – deeper than friends, closer than brothers, like twins, except only in the aspect of their minds.

The more lanky of the two leaned around and flashed him a knowing look, with mayhem written all over it in bold strokes. "Good call, Moony. I've got the cloak." His hand went into his pocket and pulled out a corner of the silvery, liquid-like material that seemed to melt between his fingers. The other nodded his approval, and the trio began to make their way to the room's exit, as discreetly as possible for three teenage boys.

James Potter. Quidditch extraordinaire.

Sirius Black. Detention-room legend.

Remus Lupin. Class-A genius.

Separately, not much of a threat.

But, as almost all of the teachers in Hogwarts had come to realize, when thrown together, a strange chemical reaction occurred between them that caused them to turn from innocent – or somewhat innocent – boys to hooligans, mischief-makers, and bringers of havoc. It was magical all in itself.

And at this moment, they were living up to their name. Out of the room they crept, down the hallway, through the arches, and toward a statue. And then it was only a tap-tap-tap from James' wand, and a mutter directed by Remus, and the statue moved aside to allow them through into a dark tunnel, where they had been previously that day, in order to stash their necessary supplies. Down the stone stairs they went, with a lighted wand-tip as their only source of visual aid.

When they found the bag at the bottom, they seized upon it immediately, grinning and sorting through the items delightedly. Sirius was beside himself with glee, snickering as he imagined the reactions of their intended victims. "I can see their faces. This is our best idea yet."

"Convenient, too," Remus murmured, taking a small object in his hand and examining it, before pocketing it and returning to the bag. James followed suit, selecting certain items and hiding them in the pockets of his clothes, making sure that they weren't too obvious. It was only Sirius who did not make an effort to conceal his chosen objects, merely shoving them into his pockets as fast as he could.

When they were suitably loaded, they made their way back up the stairs, whispering between themselves with a certain glee in the fact that the time was nearing.

"No one will forget it."

"We'll go down in history."

"Truly the best prank ever."

Fidgeting with anticipation, they made their way back into the Gryffindor common room, eyeing the continued bustle that was still thriving in the center. The seeker was now propped up on various shoulders, lifting his broom above his head and letting various calls that were meant to arouse house spirit among the less-spirited.

Quickly retreating to a corner, the trio began to dig through their pockets and assemble the chosen items, snickering between themselves. With wands at the ready, they lit the ends of the objects and then quickly hurried backwards, watching excitedly as the ends caught fire and began to fizz down to the center.

And then they exploded. Little fragments whistling up into the sky, in circular patterns and waved lines, leaving trails of sparks like shooting-star tails behind them. Red and gold erupted throughout the room, raining down sparks on the crowd below that had let out startled gasps. A large lion made entirely of fireworks, roaring at the group and causing a few girls to shriek.

By now, the trio had doubled over in laughter, clutching their stomachs and watching the mayhem take hold. Then came round two, and they lit another row of fireworks, sending them toward the ceiling while these ones shrieked and let out long whistles on their way up. They filled the entire room with noise, all of them ending in noisy explosions that sent fragments of light to the floor.

The last one was their masterpiece. A firework spelled to write the word "Marauders" across the ceiling. A signature piece that they had created specifically for the occasion. As James was lighting it, he could barely hold his excitement.

It rocket upward and then exploded in a burst of golden light, and when the initial smoke cleared, James felt his jaw drop. Instead of their name, a mark that they had been excited to make, the word "DETENTION" was written across the ceiling in golden block letters.

A pair of gnarled hands grasped the shoulders of James and Sirius, and they turned to meet the twinkling eyes of Dumbledore. Even as Sirius opened his mouth to smooth-talk his way out of it, he closed it again, and silently accepted his punishment for the ruckus caused. Glumly, he accompanied James and Remus toward the door, on their way to the stone-cold detention room.

A few minutes of silence followed, and it was obvious how gleeful Dumbledore was, with his little trick that had been designed for them.

Although.

"You have to admit," Sirius muttered, even as they marched to the place that they dreaded most. "It's not every day that we get caught in such a creative way."

"True." James' voice, seemingly disheartened over their eminent punishment, had a tone of admiration. "I think Dumbledore wins."

--

Dumbledore triumphs!
You go, Dumbledore, you go.