Mischief Night
"Well, I did tell you not to add the murtlap yesterday."
"And I told you that murtlap can't explode. It must have been the powdered moonstone."
It was early evening on the thirtieth of October, 1975. This did not make it a strange night.
What did make it a strange night, however, was the fact that the fifth-year Gryffindor boys' dormitory was full. Normally at this time of night, the regular occupants of the room – James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin – would still be out and about, either in the Common Room downstairs, creating all sorts of ruckus while "practicing for class", or in one of the classrooms about the school, fulfilling yet another detention obligation with any one of their professors.
"No, because I know I added that in the proper dosage."
And yet there they were, in the dormitory, each one scratched, bruised, and dirty from a day's work. James was lying spread-eagled on his bed, staring straight up at the ceiling through his cracked glasses, which he had not yet bothered to repair; Sirius was draped upside-down over the side of his own bed, holding his wand in his mouth like a dog carrying a stick, so that his voice came out slurred when he tried to speak around it; Peter was sitting cross-legged on his bed, leaning his head up against the wall, absently watching his friends bicker; and Remus was kneeling down on the even-dirtier-than-usual floor, making brave but vain attempts to pick up the still-smoldering bits of cauldron that littered the floor.
It had been their first failed attempt at a prank all year.
"Then maybe your jar of fire exploded."
Half an hour before, the so-called "Marauders" had been up to their usual tricks, putting the finishing touches on the special potion they had created in honor of the coming Halloween feast in their dormitory.
"We've used fire in a jar ten million times for stuff like this and it's never happened before."
In the chaos of the first few minutes after the explosion, while Peter and Remus had been attempting to quench the various fires that had sprung up about the room, there had been quite a lot of heated yelling between James and Sirius. Now, twenty minutes later, their energy seemed to have run out and James and Sirius were carrying their argument on in a half-hearted way.
"Then maybe it was the moonstone reacting with the murtlap."
"In which case, Padfoot, it would have been your faul –"
"Would you two just shut up for a while?" Remus suddenly cut into the bickering in a very final way. He too seemed to have given up, because he then deposited the few acid-spattered cauldron bits that he had managed to pick up into the garbage can (where they continued to fizzle threateningly) and sat down high off the floor on his own bed.
For a few long moments there was a tired, bleak silence, as the boys wordlessly nursed wounds and morale. Then the silence was broken as Sirius said, seemingly out of the blue, "You know where I'd like to be right now?"
"Where?" asked Peter obediently.
"America."
The statement was followed by blank looks from James and Remus and a thoroughly puzzled look from Peter.
"Why do you say that, Padfoot?" asked the blond-haired boy.
"'Cause in America," said Sirius, suddenly pulling himself upright, an all-too-familiar mischievous sparkle quivering electrically in his eyes, "they'll be celebrating Mischief Night tonight."
"What the hell are you talking about?" asked James, frowning confusedly at his dark-haired friend.
"I was in America last summer, remember?" said Sirius, voice rising in excitement. "My family was there for some sort of conference or something, and I got out and stayed with that muggle girl for a night, and she told me—"
"Hang on a second," interrupted Remus. "You never told us this story."
"Oh, well it was nothing really, just ran away because I was bored and got myself lost in that great city of theirs – New York, tha's it – and ran into some muggle and she let me stay in 'er flat for the night –"
"Is this going where I think it's going?" asked James, a huge grin spreading across his face at the images already conjured in his adolescent mind.
"Oh yeah, there was that too, but that wasn't the best part – "
"It wasn't?" Peter was now leaning forward towards him, wide-eyed.
"No it wasn't, just lemme tell you – I asked 'er about Halloween there for some reason and she told me that they celebrate it over there too, but then she told me that they also have this holiday on the night before Halloween, Mischief Night, when all the older kids go around smashing pumpkins and egging people and playing pranks –"
"That sounds brilliant!" enthused James, whose grin had widened so that it was spread painfully from ear to ear, giving him a very manic look.
"But I bet with magic it's even better!" Sirius finished off in a dramatic yell.
For a moment the four young wizards sat in silent excitement, the air around them buzzing with electric energy as they each dreamed up their own colossal images of the holiday.
"We ought to go there tonight," said James in a shaking whisper.
"We'll wreak havoc in America!" yelled Sirius, jumping up from his bed.
"Wait," said Remus's voice of reason. "Don't you think this is a bit too… abrupt?
"Not at all, Moony," answered Sirius, taking him by the arm and attempting to drag him down the stairs. "After all, where's the adventure when you've got a map?"
"Very wise," said Remus dryly, holding his ground. He put his hand on Sirius's shoulder to make him stop and listen. "Don't you remember the last time we went off the grounds without a plan?"
"Oh God, yeah," laughed James, who was now getting in position to help Sirius pull their reluctant friend. He unnecessarily held up his hand for all to see: on it there was a deep purple scar – the result of Filch the custodian having noticed them as they crossed onto the grounds after a harrowing trip to Cornwall. "But we won't get caught by Filch this time," he added confidently.
"No," retorted Remus, now fighting against the combined efforts of Sirius and James dragging him. "We'll – oi, stop – find our way back here – ouch – three days from now – stop it – and then – let go –McGonagall will find us and strangle us! Ouch! Get off me!"
"Oh, come on, Moony, where's your spirit of adventure?" asked Peter, always ready to chip in.
Remus stopped struggling as his friends yanked him down the stone staircase towards their collective doom. He was no more willing to come to America now than he had been a moment before, but after four years of living with James, Sirius, and Peter, he knew better than to try and resist the three of them together.
"Oi, where are you guys going?" asked a wary-looking sixth year, as the boys filed through the crowded common room, appearing suspiciously innocent.
James grinned at him playfully for a moment before crowing, "We're heading for America, mates! Anyone want to come?"
He was met by a hearty wave of laughter from the other students, while the sixth year's face turned bright red at the mockery. James waved like a celebrity deigning to acknowledge his fans as they left the room without further question.
James let out his own derisive snort of laughter as they slipped through the Portrait Hole leading to the Common Room and let it shut behind them. "Always tell them the truth, and they'll never believe you," he grinned. Peter laughed giddily in response.
James pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket, where the thin material lay, neatly folded for situations just like this one. Like a matador he flung the folded Invisibility Cloak outwards so that its full volume billowed in front of him, and with a casual flourish, he gracefully draped the whole thing over himself and his friends, causing the whole group to seemingly blink out of existence. Then James turned to Sirius, who was standing on his left. "Onward?" he asked.
"Onward!" Sirius said, and off they went together.
The group made their way easily through the school and the grounds and soon arrived at the spot near the edge of the Forbidden Forest in which Sirius kept his special project: a motorcycle that he had acquired over the summer, which he had bewitched to fly.
"Oh God," said Remus as he saw the motorbike through the trees. "There is no way we're going in that."
"And why is that, Moony?" asked James, looking genuinely curious as to why the smaller boy wouldn't want to ride on the flying motorbike.
"Well," started Remus, trying to be reasonable. "For a start, it wouldn't fit the four of us anyway."
Sirius grinned. "Way ahead of you there, mate."
And immediately, the motorbike stretched before their eyes, until the whole thing looked as though it could easily carry all four adolescent boys comfortably.
Peter fairly squealed with delight. James breathed a very impressed "Excellent."
Remus, however, would not be moved. "Have you ever actually flown it long-distance?"
"I've flown it from London to James's house," answered Sirius. He obviously felt that the hundred or so miles between his house and James's house had been enough to prove that the motorcycle could make its way across the Atlantic.
"Oh, come on, Moon," James said exasperatedly, before the other could protest. "It'll be fine, I promise."
Before long all four boys had (willingly or not) slid onto the seat of the motorcycle. They were about to lift into the air when Peter said, almost as an afterthought, "Prongs? What about our prank for tomorrow?"
And James, always ready with a good answer, replied assuredly, "We'll find a perfect prank in America, Wormtail."
"Alright," called Sirius, who was sitting in the front in order to drive. He turned the key and the motor coughed to life. The vehicle's wheels began to turn, the machine began to zoom along the ground (Remus's eyes were already closed), the entire motorbike was shaking, and then –
"We have liftoff!"
James gave a delighted whoop as they were swept majestically into the air. In a moment the Marauders were gone like a shooting star, heading for America.