Some Things You Should Know: This story takes place at Hogwarts between the years 1975 and 1976. Hmm.. I guess that's really it…. Well, I hope you like it ^-^

Meet the Messers

Sunlight wafts through the branches of an aged hawthorn tree as five school children recline lazily beneath it .

"I dunno…", whispers Arista Kyles, folding a ripple of brilliant blonde behind her ear. The stray strands of light bounce off her hair into the eyes of all that surround her. She wrinkles her nose in pleasure, hoping to amuse the captor of her affections, and swiftly averts her sight to the sky and back again.

"Think on it", suggests her captor through a tantalizing hazel stare, magnified by a pair of copper framed lenses.

"I will", she retorts with a stubborn pout, though a poorly feigned one. Sitting atop a delicate marble bench, Miss Kyles attempts slipping her gaze from the seemingly uninterested boy beside her. She ultimately succumbs to her girlish fancies and whips her head back to face his overwhelming charm.

"Okay", she manages around a rift of carefree giggles. Pretending to have only just decided to surrender her stance.A devilishly controlled smile and a caress on her shoulder meet her as she slides further into the boy's chest. She playfully tucks her head into his neck, and his arm, lean and confident, encases her giggling body with greater security.

"Filthy gnat. Come where I can see yah!", shrieks a tubby boy who continues falling over himself. His face pounds against a mound of grass, while a small enchanted twig rises and proceeds to prick his neck repeatedly.

Reposing against a nearby tree, a young man with ebony curls snickers silently, his wand whirling nonchalantly over his bent knees. The light admitted through the foliage above strengthens the vibrance of his shoulder length hair against his nearly eerily pallid skin.

"Where are- Uh! Hey, Sirius, gimme a hand- ahh!" the boy forces, contorting his body to catch the elusive pest. "C'mon!"

"Hmm?" offers his apparently oblivious spectator.

Only feet from the scene, a slight boy, clothed in unusually warm clothing for spring, glances toward the boy writhing through the air, then to the amusingly indifferent one beneath the tree. Grasping the situation, he inserts his nose back inside the pages of A Guide to the Medicinal Properties of Amphibious Secretions selected carelessly from some library shelf.

"Hey, it's Mouldy-Bear!" the boy seated with Arista exclaims, having spied a thick Slytherin goon. The blonde seated with him bubbles with delight as she squirms. "Eww!", she chimes with a grimace of enchanted disgust placed upon her delicate features.

"Ha ha, hear that Sirius?", chuckles the boy , begging Sirius to contribute, as their prodding steadily reels in a fuming bushy blonde mess of a boy.

"You have a gift James", claims Sirius whipping back his head releasing a true laugh.

"You're not funny Potter", Mulciber seethes, squiting his eyes and accusing James with his entire body by arching toward him.

"Yeah, he's HILARIOUS!" shouts Sirius at a glaring Mulciber.

"Yeah Mouldy-Bear! You're so mouldy, that when you go up to trees that have bee hives on them and stick your hand, or PAW, into the holes in the bee hives, the bees in there are soooo er- don't like you soooo much, 'cuz uh your MOULD, that they leave and just let you take all the honey you want, because you're just soo MOULDY! Get it? Because- since you're a BEAR, er- a MOULDY BEAR and bears eat honey! That BEES make! And BEEs live in BEE hives! Get it?" chides the boy caked in dirt and small rocks.

…

"Shut up Black, you're a disbrace to your family. You're almost worse 'n Potter!" stabs Mulciber, turning swiftly, and exiting the fued with pride.

Collapsing on the ground, Sirius admits an extended fit of laughter, joined shortly by the others near him.

"You're a DIS-BRACE Sirius!" cries James whose back now faces Arista, his shoulders heaving with uncontrollable humour.

"You two should not take advantage of the idiotic", instructs the studious one, loosely dangling his book between two slender fingers. All three boys succumb to louder bouts of hilarity, followed closely by the fat one, but not followed by the girl now sensing an absense of proper appreciation.

"NOT AGAIN!" cries the portly boy in exasperation, swatting furiously at nothing.