Wednesday, November 3, 1976
Rule #44 Superstition is no replacement for proper training and preparation, but it can't hurt
Rule #45 Don't drink firewhisky at a team breakfast
"Oi, Black, could you pass me the pumpkin juice?"
"It's his birthday, Sunshine," James informed her. "It's rather rude to ask him to do you a favor without at least wishing him a happy birthday."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said at once. "Happy birthday, Black. I had no idea, since you don't have balloons floating above your head and the entire school hasn't sang happy birthday to you or any of the other ridiculous stunts you lot normally pull when it's someone's birthday."
"Thanks, Sunshine," Sirius said. "And it's alright, I'm not surprised you weren't aware of the momentous occasion, as there's been a rather disappointing lack of fanfare and celebratory obnoxiousness so far." He looked at James, Remus, and Peter disapprovingly. "I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume aforementioned fanfare is coming later." Sirius handed the jug to Sunshine, then grinned when he noticed the bandana tied around her head. "Nice bandana, by the way," he commented, nodding in appreciation.
"Oh, thanks," she said, touching it as if she had forgotten she was wearing it. "I stole it from my boyfriend, actually. I was wearing it when I made the team, so I figured it's a bit lucky and I kept it."
Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're dating Bandana Boy?"
She chuckled. "Yes, but his name is Michael."
Sirius rolled his eyes. "I know that. We just prefer to call him Bandana Boy, due to his fondness for wearing bandanas."
"We also call him Prison Mike," Peter put in.
"Why the hell would you call him that?" she asked.
"Because James and Sirius once convinced a couple of first years that he'd served time in Azkaban," Remus answered, laughing slightly at the memory.
"And what was his supposed crime?"
"Murdering a first year for giggling too loudly," James said promptly. "Because they were giggling really loudly on the train, and then your boyfriend happened to walk by, and I somehow came up with the idea."
"No, it was only attempted murder, remember? You said McGonagall stopped him just in time, that's the only reason he didn't get the Dementor's Kiss," Remus said.
"Oh, right," James said, nodding. "And don't pretend we were the only ones going along with it. I recall that you were the one who told them his bandana was spelled to ward off the dementors."
Sunshine began laughing hysterically. "What a load of rubbish. You're telling me they believed you?" she managed to choke out.
"First years are pretty gullible," Peter said, shrugging. "And I helped to sell it by looking really scared when he walked by."
"Yeah, well, that's kind of how you look most of the time though, Pete," Sirius pointed out.
"Anyway," James said, speaking over Peter's spluttered protests, "back to your lucky bandana. You absolutely without a doubt have to wear that for the match. You know that, don't you?" He fixed her with an intense stare.
"Er, yeah, all right," she said, slightly taken aback. "You're not superstitious, are you? I figured with the way you make us train until we're half dead, you wouldn't need to rely on something like a lucky bandana."
"Well, no, I don't rely on it," James reasoned. "Obviously superstition isn't a replacement for proper training and preparation, but, well, it can't hurt." He shrugged. "That should be a rule." He raised his voice. "Oi, Seven! What rule are we on?"
"44," she called back without hesitation, speaking through a mouthful of toast.
"Right," James said, nodding. "We all have some sort of lucky item or ritual. Take Seven, for example. She reads the same chapter of some book the morning of every match - she says it puts her in the right mindset. Me, personally, that would put me to sleep, but, to each their own, you know?" He scanned the table, then pointed at the spot where Nards and Bransnog sat, talking animatedly. "Now, Nards always eats bacon the morning of a match. Bransnog won't tell us his lucky thing, says it's a secret, but whatever it is, it appears to be working for him."
"What about Unicorn?" Sunshine asked, interested.
"Unicorn has Nards braid her hair before every match," James replied after taking a large gulp of pumpkin juice. "It has to be a certain type of braid - I'm not sure of the specifics, but again, it seems to be working, so I don't ask questions." He speared a sausage with his fork, then pointed it at Bubbles. "And Bubbles always snogs his girlfriend before a match." He shook his head admiringly. "That kid is a bloody marvel, he really is."
"What about you?" Sunshine asked. What's your lucky thing?"
"He has lucky underwear," Sirius said before James had a chance to respond.
"Please tell me you wash them," Sunshine said, frozen with her fork halfway to her mouth.
"Nope," Sirius answered, grinning. "Hasn't washed them since his first ever match. He couldn't find them the morning of the match against Slytherin last year, that's why Gryffindor lost, very sad."
"Stop that, Padfoot, she's trying to eat," James said, laughing. "Don't be disgusting, of course I wash them. And don't you dare place all the blame for losing that match on me, you prat." He ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully. "Although he's right, I didn't wear them that day, and it didn't serve us well. But I have something else now too, in case the underwear start to lose their luck."
"What is it, a lucky bra to match?" Sunshine asked, giggling.
"No," James said, completely straight faced. "It's a lucky whistle. I got a new one after our first match last year, and it hasn't failed me since."
"Double the luck. I like it," Sunshine commented. "Well, don't worry, I'll wear the bandana for the match, since it's a rule now and all."
James gave her a thumbs up and took a bite of toast.
"I hope you're not too fond of it, though," Sirius cautioned her, tearing open an envelope that an owl had just dropped in front of him, "because Prongs will make you burn it if it turns out that it's not as lucky as you thought."
"He's right," James agreed.
"Well, I suppose we'll just have to win, then, because I am rather fond of it," Sunshine said, standing to leave. "I'm off. See you lot around, and I hope you have a good birthday, Black." She grabbed her bag and headed off across the Great Hall.
"We should probably get going, too," Remus observed, looking at his watch.
No one replied, because at that moment Sirius had looked up from the letter he had been reading and exclaimed loudly, "Bloody hell, what a miserable fucking bitch!"
"What's wrong?" Peter asked, but fell silent when James shot him a warning glance.
Sirius made no reply, but pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the letter, which immediately burst into flames. He reached for the envelope and upended it unceremoniously onto the table. Broken shards of what appeared to be a watch flew everywhere, covering what remained of the boys' breakfast.
"Are you going to tell us what's wrong, or are we meant to guess why you're setting things on fire and dropping bits of glass into my pumpkin juice?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows.
Sirius sat in silence for another minute, glaring darkly at the envelope in front of him, then setting it too on fire and watching the smoke curl upwards as the flames devoured the thick parchment. Finally, he spoke.
"This was from my parents' lawyer. Well, he works for my mum, really, my dad never bothered with any of that stuff. He's written to inform me that as I've now come of age, I've been officially written out of the will, and the entire Black estate will now be passed to Regulus instead when my parents do us all a favor and decide to kick the bucket. Why they think I give a flying fuck is beyond me." He gestured at the watch fragments strewn about the table. "This is the watch I was meant to receive on my seventeenth birthday. It's a Black family tradition, it had my name engraved on it and everything. She had it made before I left home, obviously, but wasn't it kind of her to send it along so I can still enjoy a gift on my birthday?" He smiled bitterly.
Remus and Peter both gaped at him, horrified.
"Merlin, I'm sorry, Padfoot," Remus said.
"That's horrible," agreed Peter.
"You're right, she is a miserable fucking bitch," James said, clapping his friend on the back bracingly. "You're well shot of them, mate."
"Thanks," Sirius said, trying to force his face into a genuine smile rather than a grimace. "It's all right, I don't care." He promptly contradicted this statement, however, by sweeping the watch shards angrily onto the floor, knocking over a goblet of pumpkin juice and cutting his knuckle on a tiny piece of glass. He swore loudly again before tossing the goblet onto the floor for good measure. Then, apparently unconcerned for the consequences of his actions, he lit a cigarette and took a long drag, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he exhaled the smoke slowly.
"Padfoot!" Remus exclaimed, looking exasperated. "You can't smoke in here-"
He broke off as Professor McGonagall plucked the cigarette from Sirius's hand, dropped it onto the floor, and ground it out beneath her boot.
"Mr. Black, would you please explain why it is not even 9 am and you have already broken something, set something on fire, and used language foul enough to make my ears bleed? Never mind the fact that you had the audacity to light a cigarette right in the Great Hall, in plain view of every teacher at Hogwarts?" Professor McGonagall stood glaring down at him, taking in the smoking remains of the letter, the shards of the watch, the upset pumpkin juice goblet, and the dangerous look in Sirius's eyes.
"Sorry, Professor," Sirius replied in a falsely calm voice. "I'm just a bit irritated because the Blacks are a bunch of snobby, bigoted, pure-blood obsessed wankers, and my mum, the fucking cunt, is the worst of all of them." He gritted his teeth and attempted to smile.
McGonagall fixed him with a steely gaze and made no reply for a moment. Then she sighed and said, "Be that as it may, Mr. Black, I cannot permit you to use such profanity and cause a ruckus in the Great Hall. You've lost 20 points for Gryffindor, and I'll see you in my office for detention at 7 on Friday night." She used her wand to extinguish the still smoldering parchment, then strode away, before turning and calling over her shoulder, "Happy birthday, by the way."
"Is it just me, or did McGonagall just subtly agree with you about your family being horrible people?" James asked gleefully.
"She sort of did, didn't she?" Sirius said, looking slightly more cheerful. "Did she have to give me detention on Friday, though?" He lowered his voice. "Now when are we going to sneak into Hogsmeade so I can get drunk legally for the first time at the Three Broomsticks?"
"We could go Saturday, couldn't we?" Peter offered.
"No we can't, you idiot, we'll be otherwise occupied," Sirius retorted, eyeing Remus meaningfully. "Honestly, Wormtail, why do you never keep track?"
"Why bother, when you've got the date of every full moon for the next year memorized?" Peter shot back.
"Keep your voice down!" Remus hissed. "We could always just go next weekend."
"Are you crazy?" James demanded. "We have the match next weekend. And I don't think Padfoot will be satisfied with waiting that long."
"No, I will most definitely not be," Sirius agreed. "I suppose there's only one solution - we have to go tonight. And one of you will have to stay relatively sober and be our voice of reason, because I am going to be in rare fucking form."
His determined expression left no room for argument, so they all agreed and began making their way to class, discussing the plan for the evening as they went.
Thursday, November 4, 1976
"Wake up, Padfoot! We've got to hurry, otherwise we'll miss breakfast." James shook his friend's shoulder gently, then more roughly when he failed to respond.
Sirius opened his eyes, blinking against the bright sunlight streaming through the window, then hastily squeezed them shut and pulled a pillow over his face.
"Go away," he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'm not going to breakfast. Everything hurts and I'm dying."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic," James said, prying the pillow from Sirius's grip. "Get up, you know you'll be rubbish if you don't eat."
Sirius attempted to grab the pillow, but James held it out of reach. With a sigh of frustration, Sirius gave up and instead began groping blindly around on his nightstand.
"Looking for these?" Remus asked, holding up a pack of cigarettes. His skin was even paler than usual, and there were deep circles under his eyes, but a mischievous grin lit up his face. "If you want them, you're going to have to get up." He pulled a chocolate bar from his trunk and tossed it in Sirius's direction. "Here, this will help."
"You're mean, you know that?" Sirius commented, getting out of bed gingerly and wincing with every movement. "You're a mean, spiteful, thieving, cardigan-wearing prat. And why is chocolate your bloody solution for everything?" Nevertheless, he unwrapped the chocolate and crammed half of it into his mouth before hastily throwing on his clothes.
"Al lright, let's go. I know Moony can't wait to fill me in on whatever drunken antics I got up to last night."
"Actually, it'll be me filling you in on your drunken antics," Peter said, following Sirius out of the dormitory and down the stairs.
"Why's that?" Sirius asked, frowning as he attempted to navigate through the crowded common room on slightly unsteady legs. "You can't tell a story for shit."
"That's rather rude," Peter protested. "I can too-"
"And I thought Moony was supposed to be our moderately sober voice of reason," Sirius went on, speaking over Peter as he stepped through the portrait hole and almost tripped.
"Well, yes, I was supposed to be," Remus replied, grabbing Sirius's arm to steady him. "But I, er, well, Prongs insisted I could have a couple swigs from the flask and still be fine."
"An assertion I still stand by," insisted James. "It should have given him a pleasant buzz, but still allowed him enough control of his faculties to keep our silly arses in line."
"But I assume it didn't play out that way?" Sirius asked, narrowly avoiding a collision with a Hufflepuff girl heading in the opposite direction. "Oi, watch where you're going, will you?" he shouted at her, and she hurried away, looking terrified.
"Don't mind him, he's just grumpy!" Remus called after her. "Padfoot, don't be a git, that was entirely your fault."
"Don't lecture me," Sirius shot back. "You're the one who got drunk and let me run amok when you were supposed to be the responsible one."
"But I really didn't mean to," Remus insisted. "I had maybe three or four sips - you saw, you must remember that part of the night."
"That's true," Sirius mused. "It did hit you hard though. I remember now - you were doing that drunk walk you do, where you try to walk carefully and appear sober, but you end up looking ridiculous because you're moving so slowly."
"I don't do that," Remus protested.
"Yeah, mate, you do," James agreed, grinning and running a hand through his hair. "It's all right, though, it's endearing."
Remus laughed. "Is it?"
"Nah, not endearing, just ridiculous," Sirius said. "And bloody hell, you winked at Rosmerta, actually winked at her, then offered her a bar of chocolate." He looked at Remus, his hangover momentarily overpowered by his amusement. "And, if I recall correctly, you thought she looked cold and said she could borrow your jumper if she liked!" He started laughing, then had to stop walking for a moment, apparently unable to do both at once.
"I don't see why that's so funny," Remus said. "You and Prongs flirt with Rosmerta all the time."
"Yes, but you don't," James explained. "You never make a prat of yourself like we do - except, of course, when you've had four sips of firewhisky, apparently."
"What I'd like to know is why did four sips turn you into Drunk Moony, when usually you have to drink at least twice that amount?" Sirius asked.
"I dunno," Remus said, shrugging. "Although, do you think sometimes I get drunker depending on, you know..." He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, but the corridor was deserted. He lowered his voice anyway and finished, "Depending on the time of the month."
Sirius thought for a moment. "You know, you might be right. We should do an experiment to test that theory!" he said, sounding excited. "We'll give you the same amount of firewhisky on different days of the lunar cycle and make you do tests to see how drunk you get. You can be the guinea pig, so to speak." He frowned. "Guinea wolf? Werepig?"
Remus gaped at him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Yes. As Moony so eloquently put it, what the hell are you talking about?" James echoed.
"What's a guinea wolf?" Peter asked.
"It's the same as a werepig, Wormtail, you idiot," James said, grinning.
"Oh, come on, you know what I'm talking about," Sirius insisted. "Muggles do experiments to test things, and they use guinea pigs to test things on. They also use rats."
"So why am I the guinea pig and not Wormtail?" Remus asked.
"Because the whole point is to find out how your, er, furry little problem affects your alcohol tolerance," Sirius explained. "Wormtail is a lightweight no matter what time of the month it is."
"I am not!" Peter protested.
"Yes, you are," Sirius said. "Anyway, I'm 100% committed to doing this, so don't try to talk me out of it, Moony, it'll only encourage me. Now, please continue to fill me in on my drunken antics. I do remember talking with Rosmerta at the bar. She bought me my first drink, didn't she? That was nice of her. And she said you underage lot could stay as long as we sat at a booth in the back and didn't cause any trouble." He grinned. "Now that I think about it, it was rather optimistic for her to expect us to follow that request, wasn't it?"
"Absolutely," James agreed. "Although we did well at first. It all went to hell, I think, when I noticed how drunk Moony was and convinced him to have a few more sips from the flask, because why not?"
"That's when I told Wormtail he'd better be the voice of reason," Remus added.
"Which was a bloody terrible idea," Sirius said, shaking his head. "You know Wormtail can barely stand up to us sober, never mind when we're drunk off our arses."
"And I'd already had a couple of drinks," Peter replied, ignoring Sirius's jibe. "But I did stop drinking at that point, or tried to, anyway." He looked pointedly at James. "Prongs kept shoving the flask in my face - rather obviously, I might add. We were supposed to keep it hidden."
James looked entirely unconcerned. "That was the least of our problems." He raised his eyebrows at Sirius. "Do you remember your arm wrestling match with Hagrid?"
Sirius covered his face with his hands. "Somewhat, although I think I've blocked most of it out to protect myself from the humiliation."
"You didn't do half bad, considering the circumstances," Remus observed fairly. "That's the last thing I remember."
"Well that makes sense, seeing as Hagrid bought Padfoot a drink to make up for beating him, and then he insisted you drink half of it because he thought you looked thirsty," Peter said.
Remus laughed, but James nodded seriously. "I know what he means. You do have this rather thirsty look about you sometimes," he said.
"Anyway, then Padfoot felt bad because Prongs had no drink, and the flask was somehow mostly empty." He shot James another pointed look. "And Rosmerta had gone out back for a moment, so Padfoot went behind the bar and attempted to get drinks for everyone."
Sirius let out a bark of laughter, then winced and put his hand to his head. "Stop making me laugh," he complained. "It makes my headache worse. I think I remember that part, too. I tried to get Hagrid a drink too, right? And then Rosmerta came back and said… What was it that she said? I remember it being funny."
"She said, 'Get out from behind my bar, Black. This does not qualify as not causing trouble, and if you get up to any more shenanigans I'm kicking you lot out - I don't care how handsome and charming you are,'" James quoted, grinning. "That's the last thing I remember."
"Well, everything was fine for a bit after that," Peter continued. "We sat at the bar, but Rosmerta seemed fine with that because everyone else had left at that point. But then Moony kept falling asleep, so Rosmerta said there was no sleeping in the bar, so if he couldn't stay awake we'd have to leave."
"Ridiculous rule," Sirius said, rolling his eyes.
"Yes, that's what you said last night, too," Peter said, grinning. "But we managed to keep Moony awake for a bit, so that was fine, but then he started doing that thing, what do we call it? When he's not asleep exactly because he'll still respond if you talk to him, but his eyes are shut."
"Padfoot and Prongs refer to it as the Moony Zone, I believe," Remus supplied.
"That's correct," James confirmed. "It can be achieved due to an inebriated state, or at certain times of the month due to extreme exhaustion. Or, in this case, I suppose, both."
"Ooh, we should incorporate this into the experiment," Sirius said.
"Do you want to hear the rest of the story?" Peter asked.
"Right. Carry on," Sirius said.
"So Rosmerta said we'd have to leave if he was going to keep falling asleep," Peter continued, "but you took offense to that and tried to explain to her that he wasn't actually sleeping and was just in the 'Moony Zone,' but obviously she had no idea what you were talking about. So you tried to prove he was awake by asking him all sorts of questions-"
"Oh wait, I remember that!" Remus interrupted excitedly. "But some of those questions were ridiculous - how would I know Rosmerta's middle name?"
"Well, you wouldn't, none of us know her actual middle name, but we've made one up that we use when we want to tease her, and if you paid attention you'd know it's Marie, not Agatha," Sirius said.
"Agatha is our made up middle name for Evans," James added.
"Oh, that's right, I knew I'd heard it somewhere," Remus said. "Anyway, I'm sorry I didn't know the name of your favorite Quidditch player, either. I remember you being quite offended by my answer."
Peter started laughing. "You said 'Chudley Ballycastle - that's not even a player at all, it's just a combination of the two teams Padfoot and Prongs support."
"Moony, that's just disgraceful!" Sirius chided, shaking his head in disgust.
"I'm appalled," James added.
"You already berated me for my lack of Quidditch knowledge last night," Remus pointed out.
"Yes but we don't remember doing it," Sirius said.
"And also we just enjoy berating you," James said.
"Especially for your lack of Quidditch knowledge," Sirius said. "Anyway, go on, Wormtail. I don't suppose Rosmerta was satisfied, was she?"
"No, she wasn't," Peter answered. "She said she didn't care if he was 'in the zone' or properly asleep, either way if his eyes were closed he couldn't stay."
"For what it's worth, I'm very sorry about that," Remus said sheepishly.
"Don't be silly, Moony, it's not your fault," Sirius said with a shrug. But go ahead, Wormtail, I want to hear the rest of the story."
"Right. Well, you didn't like that at all, Padfoot, and I thought it was all over, but we somehow managed to get Moony standing up and fully awake again, so Rosmerta said we could stay a bit longer. So everything was fine for a bit, but then Moony fell asleep standing up. Not even just in the zone, he was actually asleep."
"That's impressive," James observes, nodding in admiration.
"Quite impressive," Sirius agreed.
"Really?" Remus asked incredulously.
"Absolutely," James assured him. "I'm quite proud to be your friend."
"Me too," Sirius said. "What happened next, Wormtail?"
"Well, we managed to wake Moony up by getting him to walk around, so everything was going okay until you decided you wanted a cigarette."
"Oh no," Sirius said with a grimace. "I didn't…"
"Yes, you did," Peter said. "You lit up a cigarette right at the bar. Rosmerta was furious."
"Fuck," Sirius said.
"Twice in one day," James said, roaring with laughter. "How many fucks would you say you give?"
"Approximately zero," Sirius answered, grinning.
"Might even be less than zero," Remus mused. "Can you give negative fucks?"
"You can if you're Padfoot," James said.
"Anyway, she grabbed it out of your hand and stomped on it just like McGonagall," Peter continued, chuckling slightly. "And you sort of shouted at her and demanded to know why everyone was so dead set against you having a cigarette, and she shouted back at you to stop shouting at her in her own bar, and then I suppose being shouted at rather stressed you out, so you pulled out another cigarette, and she went ahead and Summoned the entire pack and put them in her pocket and said you could have them back when you stopped acting like a prat."
By this point, James and Remus were doubled over with laughter, and Sirius seemed torn between amusement and embarrassment.
"I suppose that's when we were kicked out?" Sirius asked.
"No, Prongs managed to calm you down and begged Rosmerta to let us stay, and she said we could stay for one more drink, but any more shenanigans and we'd have to go."
"Ooh, I remember this," James said. "I was trying to distract you, Padfoot, because you kept trying to get your cigarettes back, but I knew if you made an attempt Rosmerta would throw us out for sure. So I took some cherries from the bar and started throwing them for you to catch."
"Oh yeah!" Sirius exclaimed, comprehension breaking over his face. "If I recall, I made a rather excellent catch after jumping off the bar and doing a somersault in midair."
"You absolutely did," James confirmed. "It might have been your best ever."
"Nah, I think I fucked up the landing," Sirius admitted. "I must've, because my ankle bloody hurts."
"Yeah, you did land kind of hard," Peter said. "And Rosmerta said that was the last straw and we'd have to leave, because when you landed you knocked over a barstool and bumped into a table and broke a glass. And you said it wasn't fair because you'd just executed an impressive stunt, and she said she didn't give a monkey's and she didn't want to see you in the Three Broomsticks for a while. So we had no choice but to leave." He smiles regretfully.
"Bloody hell," Sirius said, frowning. "So we're banned from The Three Broomsticks."
"We are," Peter confirmed.
"I feel like that's not all, though," Sirius said.
"I have the same feeling," James agreed. "I remember going to the kitchens."
"Oh shit, we did, didn't we?" Sirius said.
"Wait, where are we going?" Remus interjected, because Sirius had walked straight past the Gryffindor table and was headed toward the Entrance Hall.
"We're going outside so I can smoke," Sirius replied. "Unless you rather I tried lighting up in here - maybe third time's the charm?"
"Somehow I don't think it would be much more successful than the first or second time," Remus replied. "All right, fine, but make it fast, because it looks cold out there."
"Anyway, you did end up going to the kitchens," Peter said, shivering slightly as they left the warmth of the Entrance Hall. "It was hard enough getting us all back to the common room - Moony could barely walk on his own, and you both wouldn't stop singing-"
"I remember doing an excellent air guitar solo," James interrupted.
"It wasn't nearly as good as mine," Sirius argued.
"So I had to bring Moony up to bed - Macdonald actually helped me because she was still awake for some reason - but you two insisted on going to the kitchens for a snack."
"And you let us go unattended?" Sirius demanded.
"Rookie mistake," James agreed.
"Yes, it really was, because apparently you two caused such a ruckus that the house elves banned you from the kitchens," Peter said.
"No!" Sirius exclaimed, horrified.
"Yes, they did," Peter insisted.
"But they'll still provide food for my team breakfasts, right?" James asked.
"Doubtful," Peter said. "I'm not exactly sure what you did, but I think you really upset them, and you know how hard it is to upset the house elves."
"Bloody hell, we're a couple of idiots," James observed.
"Just the worst prats," Sirius agreed. "Does this mean Rosmerta isn't going to sell me alcohol anymore?"
Peter frowned. "Well, she did say she was done selling to you for now, yes," he admitted apprehensively. "But I'm sure she'll come around eventually."
"It's alright, I suppose I can go to that bloke at the Hog's Head until Rosmerta changes her mind," Sirius said. "It's all the same, now that I'm of age."
"No, you can't, because she said she was going to speak with him personally and make sure he doesn't let you into the Hogs Head or sell you any alcohol to teach you a lesson."
"She can't do that!" Sirius protested.
"Apparently she can," Peter said. "She said he owes her a favor, and I guess she plans to use it to make sure you go thirsty."
"That's unfortunate," James said. "We're low on firewhisky, and I have no champagne for the next team run.
"That is extremely unfortunate," Sirius agreed.
"I'm sorry," Remus said guiltily.
"Why in the name of Merlin are you sorry?" James demanded.
"Yeah, I'm the git who got us banned from the Three Broomsticks and lost us our alcohol supplier, and I'm likely the reason we can't get snacks from the kitchen for a while," Sirius said.
"But all that is my fault because I kept falling asleep," Remus said. "If I'd been able to stay awake, none of this would've happened."
"Rubbish," James said, shaking his head. "Don't be stupid."
"Moony, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but shut the hell up," Sirius said. "This is not your fault. It's mine, because I am the world's biggest drama queen, and I decided to fucking smoke a cigarette in the bar and then do a bloody somersault in the air to catch a cherry in my mouth because I couldn't handle my parents writing me out of their will."
"You are a bit of a drama queen, aren't you?" Remus said, grinning.
"Are you about finished, Padfoot?" James asked. "I personally could stay out here all day, as I find the cold bracing and refreshing, but I think Wormtail is about to drop dead of hypothermia."
Peter tried to protest, but his teeth chattered so hard that his response was incomprehensible, so they headed inside and sat down at the Gryffindor table to have breakfast.
"Well, I suppose we better figure out another source to get our firewhisky from until Rosmerta comes around," James said.
"Why don't you just ask someone who's of age to go get some for us - Nards or Unicorn or someone?" Peter suggested.
"And how do you propose they get into Hogsmeade to get it?" Sirius pointed out. "The next Hogsmeade weekend isn't until December, and I don't fancy revealing Marauders' secrets if we can help it."
"We could write to someone who's left school," James said. "Crash would send us a few bottles, I bet."
"That doesn't solve your problem for the team run tomorrow, though," Sirius said. "There's no way it would arrive in time. Unless you could just have a sober team breakfast?"
"No can do," James replied. "It's tradition, and I'm not risking breaking tradition this close to a match."
"I have an idea. You're not going to like it," Remus said, "but how about Dingle?"
James and Sirius both scowled in unison.
"Well, I hate the idea," James admitted.
"Me too," Sirius agreed. "But I suppose it might be our only option."
"Now, we've got to figure out our best strategy to apologize to Rosmerta and to the house elves, so we can get back to business as usual," James said, and they spent the rest of breakfast scheming.
Friday, November 5, 1976
James, Sirius, and Peter occupied their usual armchairs, enjoying the warmth of the fire and engaging in various leisure activities. James, entirely absorbed in the diagram of Quidditch plays he was studying, didn't notice Nards approaching until she stood next to his chair and plucked the diagram out of his hands.
"Whatcha doing?" she asked, peering at the diagram and frowning. "Is this supposed to be me?" She pointed at one of the stick figures which held what appeared to be a Beater's bat and was flying alongside a stick figure Chaser. "Why am I the only stick figure with breasts?"
James grinned. "That's just to differentiate you from Bransnog," he explained.
"So why didn't you draw the other female players that way?" she persisted.
"Well, Seven and Sunshine are the only players of their position, so there's no need to differentiate between them, and Unicorn, I dunno why but I decided to draw a unicorn horn on her instead." He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Potter." She turned to Sirius. "I actually came to talk to you, Black. I'm looking to restock."
Sirius looked up from the game of wizard's chess he was playing against Peter and frowned. "Yeah, about that. There's been a bit of a snag with our supplier, unfortunately."
"What does that mean, exactly?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Well, it means that for the time being, my usual source of firewhisky is unavailable to me," answered Sirius. "So I'm going to have to turn to other, less desirable sources."
"Do you mean Dan Dingle?" She looked less than thrilled with the idea.
"I'm sorry to inform you that I do, indeed, mean Dan Dingle," Sirius replied. "Actually, we're supposed to meet up with him in a few minutes. You can come along if you like. Prongs and I will make sure he doesn't pull any of his usual tricks."
"How are you going to do that?" she asked skeptically.
"We're going to taste the firewhisky before we give him a single Knut," James answered. "If it tastes even the slightest bit watered down, the deal's off."
"And we'll hex the fuck out of him," Sirius added cheerfully.
"Right, I figured that part was assumed," James said. "What do you say, Nards, want to join us?"
She shrugged. "Don't suppose I have much choice, do I?"
They waved goodbye to Peter, then headed for the portrait hole and exited the common room.
"Where are we meeting him, anyway?" Nards asked.
"The library," James said promptly.
"Why the library?" Nards asked, surprised. "That's the last place I'd expect an illicit transaction to take place."
"That's exactly why we chose the library," Sirius explained. "Because nobody would expect it, you see?"
When they reached the library and located the agreed-upon meeting spot, a section on medieval magic that was rarely visited, they found Dan Dingle leaning against a bookshelf and looking extremely shifty.
"Dingle," James said, by way of greeting.
Sirius said nothing, merely smiled menacingly in a manner reminiscent of a dog baring its teeth
"Potter. Black." He nodded curtly to each of them in turn, then, turned to Nards, his gaze lingering over her a bit longer than was necessary. "You've brought Bernard," he observed.
"Hello, Dan," she said, sounding much friendlier than the two Marauders. "How've you been?"
"I'm living the fucking dream," he replied.
"Are you?" Nards asked.
"Yup. It's just another day in fucking paradise," he continued.
"Er, all right then," she said, rather taken aback. "Listen, I was hoping to get a bottle of firewhisky, if these two hooligans aren't buying your entire supply, that is."
"Keep your voice down," he scolded.
"Dingle, you're talking louder than any of us," Sirius pointed out.
"Nards, would you mind being our lookout?" James asked. "Just stand over there and cough loudly if anyone's coming, okay?"
She nodded, then made her way to the end of the aisle and positioned herself so she would be able to see anyone approaching their secluded spot. Dan Dingle watched her go, smirking appreciatively.
"Don't ogle her like that, Dingle, it's disgusting," Sirius complained.
"Don't fucking lecture me, Black. You shagged her last year and told half the school all about it."
"Yeah, well, that was last year. And also, I never look that creepy when I admire girls. And perhaps most importantly, I'm not a huge bloody tosser like you."
"There's no need to be so bloody rude," Dingle said.
"Yeah, well, there was no need for you to piss all over the rug at the Potters' house this summer, and yet here we are." Sirius shrugged.
"That wasn't me," Dingle protested.
"That had your name written all over it. And I had to take the blame for it, so thanks for that. Anyway, let's get on with this." He glanced expectantly at Dingle, who glanced around surreptitiously before pulling a bottle from his bag and handing it to Sirius. Sirius took a small sip, frowning thoughtfully as he passed it to James, who also sampled the liquor.
"What do you think, Prongs?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Tastes all right to me. What's your expert opinion?"
"I suppose it's fine," Sirius said, appearing disappointed at being deprived of the opportunity to hex Dan Dingle.
Dingle scowled, clearly offended by the mere suggestion that his firewhisky might be anything less than top notch.
"Right," he said. "It's four Galleons a bottle. How many do you need?"
"Two bottles, plus one for Nards," James replied. "But we're not paying four Galleons a bottle."
"Not a chance," Sirius added, grinning.
"Then I guess you're not getting any firewhisky," Dingle said, starting to put the bottle back in his bag.
"Come on, Dingle. That's a bloody ripoff and you know it," Sirius said. He pulled a book from the shelf and tossed it idly from hand to hand. "You may be able to take advantage of the younger students you sell to-"
"Which we think is completely bloody unfair, by the way," James interjected.
"-but if you think you're going to take advantage of us, too, you're an even bigger idiot than I thought," Sirius continued.
"So how about you just go ahead and charge us a fair price and make this easy," James finished, running a hand through his hair.
"Or what?" Dingle said defiantly.
James pulled his wand smoothly from his pocket and twirled it nonchalantly between his fingers.
"You're going to hex me?"
Sirius set the book down casually and cracked his knuckles several times."Or punch you," he replied. "I do enjoy punching things."
"Don't threaten me," Dingle warned.
"We're not threatening," James replied.
"We're negotiating," Sirius added.
"Sounds a lot like threatening to me."
"No, threatening would be if we said we'd steal all your customers," James countered.
"Because we could, if we wanted to," Sirius added. "We charge less, and we're much more pleasant to do business with."
"So why haven't you already?" Dingle sneered.
"Oh, we don't want the hassle and responsibility," James said. "I've got a lot on my plate with Quidditch practice in the evenings."
"And I have a lot going on as well," Sirius said. "Mary Macdonald and I have a standing appointment every Wednesday-"
"A standing appointment to do what?" Dingle interrupted.
"Shag," Sirius answered unabashedly. "And Tuesdays I like to finish my homework early so I can annoy Moony while he does his. Mondays I like to throw Dungbombs at the first years who play gobstones, and then when they look around to see who did it I blame it on Peter, dunno how they haven't caught on yet. And Thursdays I usually get a bit thirsty, so that day's out, and then it's Friday and who wants to conduct business on the weekend?"
"So basically, we've allowed you to continue selling your overpriced, watered down firewhisky rather than absorbing your clientele because we have better things to spend our time on. But we're willing to make some sacrifices if necessary. I can cut down on Quidditch practices - let's face it, Gryffindor's talented enough to win the Cup even if we don't practice three times a week."
"And I can probably give up my Monday Dungbomb shenanigans," Sirius said. "Or maybe put off quenching my thirst on Thursday."
"It would be a real shame if we put you out of business, wouldn't it?" James continued.
"Yes, how would you make money to pay for, er, whatever it is you spend all your money on?" Sirius asked, then wrinkled his nose. "It's certainly not deodorant."
"Sod off, both of you," Dan Dingle grumbled. "Are you really telling me you can't afford a couple extra Galleons, Potter, with all the money your parents have?"
"Not at all," James said pleasantly. "Of course I can afford it. It's not about the money. It's a matter of principle. I don't think it's right to rip people off. So I'm not going to stand for it. And if you know what's good for you, you'll go along with what we want and be done with it."
"You don't want us as your enemies, Dingle," Sirius said. "It's much better to continue as we have been - that is, disliking each other from afar and interacting as little as possible."
"Aren't you done yet?" Nards whined, leaving her post and wandering back over to the three boys. "What in the name of Merlin is taking so long?"
"We're negotiating, Nards, but we're nearly finished," James responded. "And why have you left your lookout post?"
"Clear violation of the first rule of being a lookout," Sirius chided, shaking his head in disappointment before turning back to Dingle. "So what do you say - three Galleons a bottle?"
Dingle scowled but nodded.
"You sure you can't get your hands on any champagne?" James asked hopefully.
Dingle rolled his eyes. "No, Potter, I can't. You can have firewhisky or nothing. You get what you get and you don't get upset, all right?"
He handed over the firewhisky and James and Nards both gave him their payment, then they left the library, staggering their exits so as not to arouse suspicion. Once they were safely out of earshot, Nards turned to James.
"Did I hear correctly? Were you really willing to cut down on Quidditch practices?" she asked, incredulous.
James laughed. "Not a chance," he said. "But it sounded convincing, didn't it?"
Nards grinned, then turned to Sirius. "What about that bit about him pissing on the Potters' rug? Was that true?"
Sirius shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not convinced it wasn't Peter, but it's easier to blame Dingle, seeing as he's a right prat."
"Hey, you're not going to drink that tonight, are you?" James asked her suddenly, looking stern. "We have a team run tomorrow, don't forget."
"Oh don't worry, I'm saving it for tomorrow," she assured him. "I can only imagine what you'd do if someone showed up for a team run hungover." They spent their rest of the walk back to the common room discussing the various punishments James might inflict on the unfortunate team member who dared to get drunk the night before a team run.
Saturday, November 6, 1976
James blew his whistle to signal the end of the run, and the team dropped to the ground in exhaustion, gasping for breath and wiping away sweat. When they had recovered themselves slightly, they rose and followed James to a spot a short distance away where an assortment of chairs and a rickety table were assembled behind a tree that overlooked the lake.
"These aren't the usual chairs," Nards observed, plopping down in one and slouching down, still breathing hard.
"And this isn't a complaint, as I'm perfectly happy to eat chocolate for breakfast, but this isn't nearly as much food as we normally have," Bubbles added, surveying the assortment of Honeydukes candy heaped on the table.
"Yes, well, the house elves aren't exactly happy with me at the moment," James replied, conjuring a fire and warming his stiff fingers over its warmth. "I had to bring down the table and chairs myself - I borrowed them from that unused classroom on the second floor, and I stole this candy from Remus."
"We could always go back to the castle to have breakfast," Bransnog suggested.
"Absolutely not," James said. "It's tradition to have a team breakfast out here after a team run, and we can't break tradition this close to a match." He looked guiltily down at the table. "Now, I wasn't able to get my hands on any champagne, either, so I'm sorry about that."
"Well that's okay," Unicorn said cheerfully. "We don't need any alcohol - it is only nine am, after all."
"Don't be silly," James said quickly. "We can't just skip the alcohol - that's tradition as well. We're just going to have firewhisky instead." He moved aside a box of Bertie Botts and several large chocolate bars to reveal a cleverly concealed bottle of firewhisky, then grinned as he poured a large measure into the various goblets and mugs assembled on the table.
"Drink up, team," he ordered, passing a cup to each team member before downing his own mug in one gulp. The team looked at each other, then collectively shrugged and drained their own glasses.
"So what did you do to make the house elves so angry at you?" Nards asked, her mouth full of Honeydukes chocolate.
"Yeah, and why couldn't you get any champagne?" Bubbles added, taking a large sip from his mug and grimacing. "You've never had a supply issue before."
"They took Sirius to The Three Broomsticks for his 17th birthday, and he was rather upset because his parents sent him a horrible letter and smashed the watch he was supposed to get as a gift for coming of age, that's why he threw that goblet and tried to light a cigarette in the Great Hall the other day before McGonagall told him off. So he got drunk and made a ruckus which caused Rosmerta to ban them all and forbid that weird bloke at the Hogs Head from selling to them. Then they went on a drunken rampage in the kitchens and the house elves banned them as well," Seven volunteered, then quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry, I'm not supposed to know all that, am I?"
Everyone stared at Seven for a moment before Nards broke the silence. "Bloody hell, Seven," she said, looking impressed. "I knew some of that, but how do you always know every single detail of things you have no business knowing about?"
Seven shrugged self-consciously. "I dunno, I just listen. It's not that hard, really. Those four don't really keep their mouths shut if they think nobody's paying attention."
James refilled his mug, then raised it in the air in Seven's direction. "Well, cheers to that, Seven, and make sure you kick me if you hear me talking about something horribly embarrassing or incriminating in your presence." He drank deeply, and the rest of the team did the same.
"Well, since the secret is out, will you please give us all the hilarious details of why Black was thrown out of the Three Broomsticks?" Unicorn asked conspiratorially.
"And how the hell did you lot manage to sneak down there and back on a school night without getting caught?" Sunshine asked.
"And could you please confirm that Sirius actually had an arm wrestling match with Hagrid?" Seven added.
"What?" Nards demanded, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. "There's no way that can be true."
"Oh, that's 100% true," James said, grinning. "But let me start at the beginning, although I can't tell you how we managed to get there and back undetected - that's one of our secrets that we just can't reveal. But fill up your cups, everyone, cause this is a thirsty sort of story." He took a sip from his mug, then launched into the story, enjoying the rapt attention of his teammates.
Hours later, the team still remained gathered around the fire, decidedly less sober than they had been earlier. Candy wrappers littered the ground, and a blackened lump in the center of the fire was all that remained of the first firewhisky bottle. Bubbles now gripped a second bottle, now mostly gone as well, in one hand as he gesticulated wildly with the other hand, trying to explain the finer points of a Quidditch play he'd seen during a Ballycastle Bats match the previous year.
"I can't believe you're also a Ballycastle supporter!" James said for what must have been the third time. "You're basically a younger, ginger version of me!" He held out his hand for the bottle, and Bubbles passed it over wordlessly.
"Nards, can you tell us what it was like to snog Snape?" Sunshine asked. She now lay sprawled in front of the fire, resting her chin on her hands.
Nards giggled. "Absolutely not. I'm not drunk enough for that."
"Then at least tell us what it's like to shag Sirius Black," Sunshine continued.
"It's excellent," a voice behind them answered, and everyone turned to find Sirius standing at the edge of their circle of chairs, arms crossed and wearing a smirk. "Best shag of your life, probably." He picked up the Bertie Botts box, shook the few remaining beans into his hand, then sat down in the chair Sunshine had abandoned.
"What are you doing down here, Padfoot?" James asked, then offered him the firewhisky bottle. "Want a drink?"
Sirius accepted the bottle, but only took a small sip before setting it down at his feet. "I came looking for you idiots," he replied. "Do you realize how long you've been down here?"
James glanced at his watch and laughed. "Shit, we've been out here for ages."
"I thought when you Summoned the second bottle of firewhisky right through the common room window that maybe Bubbles dropped the first one or something," Sirius continued. "But then when you still weren't back for another hour, I figured I should come see what you were up to."
James glanced around at his teammates. "I feel like we might be slightly drunker than we usually get during team breakfasts," he observed.
"But I don't understand why," Nards said, trying and failing to rise from her seat, then giving up and contenting herself with throwing chocolate bar wrappers into the fire and watching them curl and blacken in the flames.
"You only ate candy, not proper food, and you drank two bottles of firewhisky instead of champagne," Sirius said wryly. "But you're right, it's a big fucking mystery why you're so drunk."
"But you don't want to join us?" Bubbles asked. "Usually team breakfasts are exclusive events, but I'm pretty sure that went out the window, well, when Potter summoned the second bottle through the actual window." He grinned at his team captain, who was now leaning back precariously in his chair and looked about to topple over any moment. "And day drinking is usually your thing, isn't it?"
"Oh, it's absolutely my thing," Sirius agreed, watching in amusement as James leaned his chair back too far and had to grab onto Bransnog's leg to keep from going over backwards. "And any other day I would join you, but unfortunately we have, er, a prior commitment this evening that requires us to remain sober."
"We do?" James asked, blinking in confusion.
"Yes, we do," Sirius repeated, meeting James's gaze meaningfully.
"Ohhhh," James said, comprehension finally dawning over his inebriated mind as he realized what day it was.
"What's your prior commitment? Unicorn asked curiously, but they both ignored her.
"Shit, do I have time to sober up?" James inquired. He stood up quickly, looking panicked, and almost fell into the fire after tripping over Sunshine's legs but was saved at the last second when Bransnog seized the back of his cloak and pulled him to safety.
"You should be all right if you eat something and take a nap," Sirius said, shaking his head and chuckling, "but we should get back to the common room ASAP." He glanced around at the rest of the team. "Are you all okay to get back?"
Bransnog eyed Sunshine doubtfully. "I'm not convinced she can walk on her own," he said, frowning.
Sirius looked thoughtful. "I'd tend to agree with you," he said. "Well, which of you is the best at doing magic while drunk?"
Bubbles's hand shot up automatically like he was volunteering to answer a question in class. "It's me!" he said excitedly. "Sometimes I think I'm better when I'm drunk, actually." He drew his wand from his pocket to demonstrate and made the empty Bertie Botts box fly into the air before dropping neatly into the fire.
Sirius nodded. "Fair enough. Okay, you're going to strap her to one of these chairs and levitate it back to the common room. The rest of you, kind of gather around so it's not super obvious, and hopefully you won't be seen on the way."
"What about the table and chairs?" James asked.
Sirius shrugged unconcernedly. "I don't feel like dealing with them, so let's make Peter come down and get them, shall we?"
James laughed, grabbing onto Sirius's shoulder for support. "Look at you, being the responsible one. Weird, isn't it?"
"I know, right? Who am I?" He slung James's arm around his shoulder, then lowered his voice. "It's for Moony, so I suppose it's worth it."
"It's adorable," Nards called loudly from behind them. "Sirius Black, Mr. Responsible."
"Shut it, Nards," Sirius called back. "I notice you didn't correct me when I said I was the best shag of your life." He glanced over his shoulder quickly to make sure nobody could see, then quickly pulled the Map from his pocket and checked to make sure their return trip was clear. The fact that he managed it with James leaning on his shoulder was rather impressive.
"You lot should be alright if you take the long way back to the common room," he told them, raising his voice so they could hear him over Nards's giggles. "I'm going to go first with Prongs, so I'll try to give you a heads up if anyone's coming, but, you know, just try not to look like you're inappropriately drunk in the middle of the afternoon."
"This should be a rule," James said, without any explanation.
"What should be a rule?" Sirius asked, only half-listening because he was concentrating on not stumbling over the uneven ground.
"Don't drink firewhisky at a team breakfast," James replied. "I think we're on rule 45."
"Oi, listen up, team!" Sirius shouted self-importantly. "I declare a new rule. Rule #45 is now 'Don't drink firewhisky at a team breakfast.' Anyone found violating this rule will be removed from the team or will be forced to snog Snape."
"You don't get to decide the punishment," James protested.
"Oh, shush, Prongs, let me have my fun," Sirius replied, grinning. "Now let's hurry this along, yeah? We have shit to do tonight, and you have a lot of sobering up to do."
Saturday, November 13, 1976
The Gryffindor table had a frenzied, charged energy during breakfast that morning, as everyone eagerly anticipated the first Quidditch match of the season. James prowled along the length of the table, ensuring his teammates all ate a decent breakfast and policing their various superstitious rituals.
"Did you read some of that book earlier, Seven?" James asked, placing a piece of toast on her nearly empty plate.
"Yes, I did," she replied, before taking a bite of the toast dutifully. "Don't worry. We're well-prepared and the conditions are looking great out there."
"I'm not worried, just making sure, is all," James said, before moving along to harass Bubbles. "You made sure to snog Mrs. Bubbles, right?" he demanded, and would not be satisfied until Bubbles's girlfriend confirmed this fact, blushing furiously.
He finally made it to Nards and Bransnog, after ensuring that Sunshine wore the appropriate bandana and Nards had braided Unicorn's long hair in the correct style. "Did you do your secret lucky thing, then?" James asked Bransnog, raising his eyebrows.
"Not yet," Bransnog replied, draining the last of his chocolate milk. "I don't do it until right before I leave the locker room to head onto the field, but I've got it covered."
"Okay. And what about you, Nards? I still see bacon on your plate." He pointed accusingly at the fatty bacon ends that littered her plate.
"Oh, I never eat the bacon nubs," she said, shrugging. "It's part of my ritual. It's going to be a great match - I have a good feeling."
"Hullo, Bernard," came a deep voice from behind them, and they all turned to see Ryan the Hufflepuff, sporting his usual hiking boots and tall socks and wearing his awkward yet friendly smile. "I wanted to say good luck at the match today."
"Thanks," Nards said.
Ryan glanced at Nards's plate. "Are you going to finish your bacon?"
"You want my bacon nubs?" she asked, taken aback. "No, have at them." She glanced at her watch. "It's almost 30 minutes to the match, anyway, and everyone knows you have to wait at least 30 minutes after eating before you can play Quidditch." She nudged James and smiled. "Isn't that right, Potter?"
"Bloody hell, you're right!" James exclaimed, slightly panicked. He blew his whistle. "Alright, team, no more eating. Time to head to the locker room."
Ryan, munching on the abandoned bits of bacon, seemed entirely unperturbed. "Well, thanks, and have a good match," he said, before heading back in the direction of the Hufflepuff table.
"What a strange bloke," James observed, waiting for the rest of the team to join him before bustling them out of the Great Hall and out onto the grounds towards the Quidditch pitch. "I've never seen anyone eat so much bacon."
"Nor have I," Nards agreed, entering the locker room and sitting down on a bench to await James's usual pre-match pep talk.
James took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, enjoying the feeling of anticipation that always filled him before delivering a particularly inspiring speech.
"Right," he began, beginning to stride slowly up and down the locker room floor. "It's a great day to win a Quidditch match." He paused, searching the faces of his teammates for any sign of eye rolls, impatience, or patronizing smiles, but they appeared to be as excited and enthusiastic as their captain. "We've been training hard, and I daresay we're as prepared as we possibly could be." He pointed at Nards and Bransnog. "We've got the best Beaters around." He gestured at Unicorn and Bubbles, then at himself. "We've got a couple of rockstar Chasers. We haven't missed or dropped a pass in ages." He grinned. "Plus, you know, we're not too bad to look at." He turned to Sunshine. "We found ourselves an excellent new Keeper, and I'd say she's a keeper, if you catch my drift."
Sunshine rolled her eyes at him but grinned.
"And finally, we have a super Seeker who is going to absolutely kill it out there," James finished, looking proudly at Seven. "Now pay attention, team, because I have a few tasks for you to do."
"Tasks?" Sunshine repeated, startled.
"Don't worry, it's just Potter doing his Potter thing," Nards whispered reassuringly. "Just listen. He's actually fairly inspiring, even though he's probably the corniest bloke on the planet."
James pointed his wand at a chalkboard behind him, and a message appeared in his narrow, slanting handwriting. James pointed to the first three items on the list, which read
Catch all the passes
Score all the goals
Look sexy as hell
"These are obviously directed at Bubbles, Unicorn, and myself. Now, I'd say we can check off the third item, wouldn't you?" He winked at Bubbles and Unicorn, then gestured at the next bullets on the list, which were
Show those Bludgers who's boss
Knock the Slytherins off their brooms
"These are obviously for Nards and Bransnog," James said. "You two think you've got these covered?"
They both gave him a thumbs up. He turned back to the list and pointed to the next two items:
Save all the goals
Show Gryffindor their new Keeper is even better than the last one
"Do you mean that?" Sunshine asked, gaping at him.
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," James replied. "Now, just make sure that bandana isn't obscuring your vision, because you want to have-"
"Eyes on the Quaffle at all times," she finished. "Yeah, I know."
"Right," he said, nodding. "Well, that brings me to the item on the list for our Seeker."
He pointed at the next bullet point on the list, which stated
Catch the damn Snitch
"I got it covered," Seven said, her face hard and determined.
"I know you do," James said. "Right, so that concludes our to-do list for today. You're shining stars, all of you, and you make me proud to be your captain, so let's get out there and absolutely crush it. And no matter what, don't fucking give up, alright?" Without further ado he strode out onto the field to deafening applause, buoyed along by the aftereffects of his pep talk. He glanced back at his team, feeling a rush of pride as he thought of all the hard work they had put in over the past two months, as well as a thrill of anticipation as he considered how well they were about to perform against Slytherin. He took another moment to listen to the cheers from the Gryffindor section, basking in the attention and admiration and ignoring the boos from the Slytherin side. Then, he took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair, gripped the lucky whistle he wore around his neck, and tuned everything out to focus on the match.
Less than an hour later, the match ended in an eruption of cheers and applause when Sunshine executed a particularly impressive save while Seven simultaneously managed to catch the Snitch despite the Slytherin Beater's best attempts to send both Bludgers in her direction at once. As James hoisted Sunshine onto his shoulders and began to parade her back to the common room, she tapped him on the shoulder.
"Why am I up here, and not Seven?" she asked.
"Because," he replied, craning his neck to look up at her, "today is your day, Sunshine. So bask in the glory. You're the reason we won."
"Nah, it wasn't me, it was this lucky bandana, and Nards's bacon, and your lucky underwear," she replied, chuckling.
"Well, that too," James agreed. "Now, come on, we're going to go enforce rule #12."
"Which one is rule #12?" Sunshine aske
"Party as hard as you play," Sirius replied, drawing up alongside them. He sat atop Remus's shoulders and grinned broadly, holding a flask in one hand. "One of the most important rules, in my opinion.
"I see you've already gotten a head start," Sunshine observed.
Sirius nodded, taking a sip from the flask before passing it across to Sunshine. She glanced around surreptitiously, then took a large sip before passing it back to Sirius.
"But I thought we drank almost all of what you bought from Dingle?" she asked. "You didn't buy from him again, did you?"
"Nope," James replied, expertly taking the flask from Sirius and taking a sip while keeping Sunshine securely on his shoulders with the other hand. "We wrote to Crash and he sent us some, but it ended up being unnecessary."
"I smoothed everything over with Rosmerta," Sirius explained, attempting to force-feed Remus firewhisky.
"Cut it out, Padfoot, it's hard enough carrying you, never mind trying to drink and make sure no teachers are looking at the same time," Remus complained
"Is that a fat joke?" Sirius said in mock outrage.
"But how did you smooth things over with Rosmerta?" Sunshine persisted. "Didn't you try to light a cigarette in the Three Broomsticks? And then didn't you do a somersault off the bar and knock over a table?"
"I have my ways," Sirius replied evasively.
"And by that he means he snogged her," Remus said, smirking.
Sirius neither confirmed nor denied this assertion, but merely said, "And we've won over the house elves again, so there'll be plenty of food."
"Not that it was difficult," James said. "All we had to do was apologize."
"Which I still think is ridiculous," Sirius protested. "We should not have to apologize to house elves. It is literally their job to serve us."
"We wreaked havoc in that kitchen," James argued "We're lucky to be allowed back, honestly."
Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by the loud, disapproving voice of Lily Evans.
"Black, get down, you're going to crush him!"
"Evans, is that a fat joke?" Sirius retorted. "That's the second one in less than five minutes - Merlin, I get the hint, alright?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, it wasn't a fat joke, drama queen, I just don't want Remus to collapse under the enormous weight of your ego."
Sirius laughed. "Don't worry about Moony - he's stronger than he looks." He patted Remus's shoulder reassuringly. Remus wobbled slightly on his feet, which did nothing to confirm Sirius's assertion.
"If you say so," she said, shrugging. "Anyway, well done, Potter and Leigh-Anne." Sunshine nodded at her appreciatively before taking another swig from the flask.
"Thanks, Evans," James replied, genuinely touched. "Are you ready to celebrate with us? There's a goblet of firewhisky and a box of Bertie Botts up in the common room with your name on it."
"I'm on duty tonight," she said, looking almost disappointed.
"No you're not," James said. "The Ravenclaw prefects from our year are going to cover so you and Moony can enjoy the party." He grinned at her. "You're welcome."
She stared at him in surprise for a moment before she recovered herself. "How did you manage that?" she asked, then turned to Sirius. "Did you orchestrate this? Don't tell me you're still shagging her?" she asked, referring to the 6th year Ravenclaw prefect Sirius claimed had brought him to the prefect bathroom on multiple occasions.
"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Sirius answered primly.
"Seeing as you're the furthest thing from a gentleman, you should have no problem answering," Lily said wryly.
"And if I occasionally enjoy the company of a particular Ravenclaw prefect, as well as the added bonus of a hundred different types of bubble bath and the ability to get prefect duties covered, well, that's my concern," Sirius continued. "Macdonald is fully aware and is perfectly fine with it, and seeing as you're now able to enjoy a party instead of patrolling the corridors and occasionally telling off students for groping each other in broom closets, I'd say you're in no position to complain." He met her gaze, challenging her to argue.
She thought for a moment, then shrugged. "No, I don't suppose I am." She sighed. "All right, I'll enjoy the party without complaint. But don't expect me to turn a blind eye if I see third years downing firewhisky again, Potter."
"I wouldn't dream of it," James replied, then added under his breath to Sirius, "because all of my teammates are at least fourth years now."
Laughing, they made their way up to the common room, eager to celebrate a well-deserved win and to enjoy the food and drinks Peter had gone ahead to set up for them.