Punk is Dead

August 7th, Summer Before 6th Year

Sirius and James spent the rest of the week playing pick-up Quidditch, riding around on Sirius' motorcycle, pranking each other mercilessly, and smoking carefully out of sight of the adult Potters. After many exchanged owls they had it arranged that Remus and Peter would come over for the third week in August.

Meanwhile, a mini prank war had been occurring inside Potter manor: hair dying potions in the food; tickling, dancing, backwards talking spells were flung through the halls, robes had been charmed to only be worn inside out, and transfigured cats and dogs were raining from the dining room ceiling.

Mrs. Potter sighed to her husband, "We really need to get them out for a day or two before they destroy the place."

Mr. Potter grinned to his wife, "Didn't Sirius say he had muggle friends in London? We could dump them there for a bit…"

Mrs. Potter's face grew a wicked smirk, "Why not toss them through the floo tonight, straight to the Leaky?"

"I'll arrange to have to have their dinners spiked with a mild sleeping potion." Mr. Potter gave his wife a quick peck on the cheek.

"Oh we should really give them a few galleons to feed themselves with."

"And orders to complete their school shopping with it too?"

"Excellent, we can charm the note straight onto their forearms." She suggested.

"I knew there was a reason I married a Slytherin."

Mrs. Potter swatted her husband lovingly, and at 8:56 pm that evening, two boys were rudely awoken by the bartender of the Leaky Cauldron splashing water in their faces.

August 7th 8:56 pm

Two rather multi-coloured boys woke up drenched on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron. James' hair still green and pink, and Sirius' blue with black spots, from the prank war.

"What? Where are we…"

"Look at your arm mate."

'Boys,' it read,

'Do your school shopping with the money in your pockets; don't come home until you've finished with your little war.

Love mum and dad'

"Hmmm, I guess that means we're never allowed back." James grinned.

"We'll stay out of their hair for a few days, then they get to deal with what little angels we are."

They were glad that they were both wearing relatively muggle clothes, however James, being outside of the Potter wards, and no longer able to use his wand without ministry notice, had to approach the bartender to ask for the image on his shirt to be frozen. Obviously a moving picture on his shirt would draw unwanted attention.

"Well, I'm sure Tweak wouldn't mind us to pay them a visit for a day or two."

"What exactly IS this 'Tweaker' fellows' real name?"

"You know Prongs, I have no idea."

They quickly made their way over to Camden town and up to Tweakers flat.

"Sup Sirius?"

"Not much, my mates' parent's booted us for a few days." Sirius replied.

"Apparently we were wreaking too much havoc for them." James added.

"Well, havoc shall a'ways be welcome 'ere, come in."

They had barely stepped through the door when a flying red blur knocked Sirius to the floor.

"Squaakk!" Went the Sirius

"Siri!" Went the blur. Who turned out to be Ryan.

"Poofs." Grinned the Tweaker and the Prongs together.

Sirius stood, picking up the bundle that was Ryan with him. "Gits." He grinned to James and Tweaker, carrying Ryan to the couch before they flopped down into its saggy mass together.

James and Tweaker stared at each other for a moment, before going to sit on the floor.

James looked around the flat as the group talked, taking in the old couch that looked like it'd been scrounged from the roadside, the colourful pages of bizarre art pinned to the walls, the little bunched up piece of cardboard under a table leg keeping it even. The entire place, every furnishing and highlight, looked homemade or second hand. The flat had a strange charm to it, its yellowed walls of peeling paint, cracked floor tiles, the dirt under the cupboards, yet it felt like such a home, and he could easily imagine Sirius spending the better part of a lifetime content in a place such as it.

"Well we gotta have a party ta welcome ya back Sirius," Tweaker mentioned, "I'll call up Philly an' a few others, mayb's they can pick 's up a forty on their way down."

Not even an hour later the tiny flat was packed, booze was being passed around, a new bands album was on the record player and halfway through the first side, James was desperately trying to decipher the lyrics, confused and a bit tipsy he asked "Sirius? How is punk dead? Aren't we surrounded by them right now?"

Sirius was rather distracted with Philly's hair, making the mad attempt to fan it into a mohawk. Ryan answered James' question instead, "I think wha' Crass is sayin', 's that punk was dead before it even got goin'. Like, the secon' punk became a 'thing' with a recognizable 'style', and bands makin' money, it was ove'. Punks all bout not bein' the same old thing, no' doin' it for money, standing up to the shitty status quo this society seems s' fond of. But now, it' a thing, it's become its own style. Punk's dead."

James nodded, not quite understanding the answer, but was content to think on it when he was sober. He went back to his beer. The music was loud and some partygoers sang along together, others jumped around wildly and flailed their arms, yet more sat still smoking and enjoying the atmosphere that had been set for them. Sirius had glue in his hair and Tweaker was spiking it in all manner of different directions at the table, Ryan was sitting peacefully in the corner with a book in one hand and a spliff in the other, steadily adding ash to the already overflowing tray.

He had to wonder, just how Sirius managed to find such strange people. He looked around the room at the vast diversity of hair colour, sexuality, fashion statements, he had to think it was so completely different from anyone at Hogwarts, and so completely different from anything he'd seen of muggles before. But in its own way, they were all exactly the same, they all had the same underlying philosophy of life, and they all loved to shout, drink, and party. He looked around the room and saw immense diversity, distinct from the accepted norm. Yet they'd all managed to break away from conformity in the same direction. He got it; punk was dead, dead because it had allowed itself to be recognizable, and lumped into one new category.

AN: So... this was essentially filler. Pretty colourful partying with a bit of Ryan filler. Also a bit on the backwardness of Punk as a "style". But yeah, for my reviewers desperately waiting for Remus, I have one word for you... SOON!