Disclaimer: Much as I would like it to be otherwise, Harry Potter is a figment of J. K. Rowling's imagination. Not mine. Surprise! Anything you don't recognise is mine, though, so if you want to use it, ask first.

Chapter 1

"Hey, Pettigrew! Psst! Over here, mate. I want you to go fix James' alarm clock for him – I can't quite figure out the spell. It's in here, chapter twelve."

"Of course, Sirius! I'd be glad to. Right now?"

"Right now."

"But what if-"

"Peter. Calm down. James asked me to do it himself."

"Oh. Okay then. So this doesn't have anything to do with-"

"No, definitely not. I don't try and get James back for every stupid trick he pulls on me, do I?"

"You kind of do, actually..."

"Okay, okay. But this has nothing to do with that. Just trust me. He'll thank you for it."

"All right then. I'll go do it now, shall I?"

"Might as well."

"Bye, then!"

"See you."


It was early on a hot Sunday evening. A skinny boy with tangled black hair lay flat on his back in the middle of the floor, deep in thought. The fingers of his left hand absentmindedly fiddled with the curtains on the bed beside him, twitching them back and forth.

"Well," he murmured vaguely, still playing with the curtains, "he's never going to tell us. We could always just curse it out of the git. He deserves it. What d'you think, Moony? Jelly-legs this time? Boils? Wooden feet?" He grinned as an idea occurred to him. "I could always hex him so that all his greasy hair falls out..."

The foot dangling off the bed kicked out and hit his glasses, knocking them off.

"Oi! Remus, that was my face!"

"I know."

James Potter fumbled around on the floor and found that his glasses had somehow gotten rolled up in a spare Gryffindor sweater under the bed. He fished them out, put them on and rolled his eyes. "Honestly. I just meant-"

A pale face poked out over the edge of the bed and interrupted him. "You just meant that we'd get into another fight with Snape and end up in detention. Again," said Remus grumpily. "And I'm quite enjoying life without two hours of cauldron scouring every night, thank you very much."

James shrugged carelessly, still sprawled on the dormitory floor. "S'pose you're right. As usual."

"I know."

"Shut up."

"Anyway, it's probably true."

James sat upright so fast he got whiplash.

Did Remus know something he hadn't told him?

"You think so?" he said breathlessly, rubbing his aching neck. "Were you there? Did you see him? Did she tell you? How d-"

"Prongs. Relax. Don't get your knickers in a twist. I mean, what else would have made her that upset? How else would he have landed in the hospital wing?" Remus looked down at his friend, realization dawning. "You're not still obsessed with Evans, are you?"

"No," said James, defensively.

Remus rolled his eyes.

"Well, yes. But that's got nothing to do with it. I just can't believe that anyone, even Snivellus, could call someone a, a..." He looked around as if making sure no one was listening. "...a Mudblood." He mouthed the word angrily, reluctant to even say it.

The other boy sighed. "He's a slimy pile of Kneazle droppings, that Snape. Maybe another week of cauldrons wouldn't be so bad after all. I could live with it, I guess." He paused. "Could you really make his hair fall out?"

James nodded gleefully.

"All of it? And the eyebrows?"

More nodding.

"Well," said Remus happily, "never one to do things halfway, are you?"

Before James could reply, the heavy wooden door to the staircase swung open. A short, plump boy wandered into the dormitory, his head buried so deeply in a dog-eared copy of Cunning Charms for Mischief Makers (Guaranteed Mayhem or Your Money Back!) that his nose touched the paper. His eyes scanned the page, mouth forming the words silently.

Remus nodded in greeting. "Afternoon, Peter."

"Hello, Remus!"

"Wormtail!" called James from his spot on the floor. "You seen Sirius anywhere? I think he's still sulking. Hey – isn't that his book?"

"Oh, hi James! Yeah, he just lent it to me - he's in the common room, I think. He was a minute ago, anyway...er, hang on-"

Peter flipped through the book, searching for something. "Let's see now...chapter twelve, chapter twelve, chapter twelve. Ah! Here we go!" He pulled out his wand.

"Excito exulcero!"

He waved his wand with a dramatic flourish, almost dropping it, and a large green bubble started to swell from the tip. The bubble detached itself and floated lazily across the room, finally coming to a stop over James' nightstand. It hovered for a second, with the three boys' eyes glued to it, before it settled over the alarm clock and vanished with a small pop. The clock immediately began to glow green. James stared at it in disbelief as it started to emit a faint hum.

"Pettigrew! What the hell did you just do to my clock?"

"Well, Sirus told me-" he broke off, cringing a little at James' expression, which seemed to be torn between amused and horrified.

Remus had no such confusion and started laughing so hard he fell off his bed. "Merlin, James. What did you expect?" he panted when he'd calmed down a bit, tears of mirth leaking from his eyes. "What did you think was going to happen when you hexed his all his robes to say 'Raucous for Dorcas' across the back? If you'd talked to me about it, I could have at least helped you figure out something decent for a slogan. And I reckon the pink was definitely overkill. "

Grinning sheepishly, James ran his fingers through his hair, making it even more wild. "I don't know what he was so upset about. Pink really suits him, I think."

"He was pretty mad when he couldn't change them back, though," said Peter. "He had to go and borrow a whole new set from Longbottom."

"Well," James said crossly, "I didn't think he'd drag you into it!"

The boy in question blinked anxiously. "I never knew – well, at least, I didn't mean – he said you wouldn't -" Peter broke off, frowning. "Oh, hippogriff turds!" he exclaimed savagely, before flopping down on his bed rather harder than he normally would have.

Remus moved over to the afflicted clock and prodded it gingerly with his wand. Nothing happened, so he poked it a bit harder, which only managed to make it glow a brighter green and hum even more annoyingly. Intrigued, he examined it closely, his nose barely an inch from the steadily moving hands. "The book you got the spell from should have given it away," he murmured, almost to himself. "D'you know what he got you to curse it with?" he called to Peter over his shoulder, still squinting at the clock.

"No, not at all. He just told me that Prongs had broken his clock and wanted it fixed. He gave me that book, though," Peter pointed to where it lay innocently on the floor. "What?" he protested as James shot him a skeptical glare. "He was very convincing!"

Remus gave the clock one last nudge and shrugged. "He always is. James, he'll be in the Great Hall by now. Have you ever known him not to be early for dinner?" He crossed the dormitory and clattered down the stairs, stopping abruptly halfway down. "You coming or not?" he hollered up the stairwell. The two other boys followed hastily.

As they clambered through the portrait hole, James shook his head, muttering darkly to himself. "Bloody Padfoot."

A/N: Review, pretty please! This is my first attempt at a chaptered fic - do you like it, loathe it, have any ideas for where you think it should go? Let me know (: