A/N - This should be rather entertaining. If you'll notice, I've given each of the Marauders a separate speech impediment. Remus cannot pronounce his 'r's. James cannot get his 's's. Sirius and Peter - well, you'll see about them right off. Enjoy!

Oh yes, and the detail-conscientious readers will note that Sirius is sort of friends with Bellatrix in this chapter. I would have preferred it otherwise, but I figure even murdering, pure evil Death Eaters might have had their innocent, likeable moments as children, and so as much as I would have liked Sirius to steal his mother's wand and try to hex her, it couldn't be done. Sorry.

Disclaimer - Please, please, please, pleeeeaaase may I have the mini-Marauders? Please? I'll take good care of them - I'll keep a good eye on them - I'm a good baby-sitter, I can deal with them - please JK? Lemme keep 'em? *sad puppy-dog eyes*

*~*~*Up On The Rooftop, And The Dangers of Teacups*~*~*

Lester stared at his small nephew. The round-faced boy stared back, expressionless.

"You are the Squibbiest excuse for a wizard kid I've ever seen," he told Peter. "You don't play with wands. You don't pay any attention to Quidditch, and you never play with that toy broom I got you. You tried to pluck the owl. You're three, for Merlin's sake! And you don't even talk!"

Peter squeaked, then continued banging to pot lids together and singing wordlessly along with the annoying rhythm.

"Yeah, kid. 'Squeak' is right. Thank Merlin your parents are coming home soon. I couldn't stand another hour of baby-sitting you." A thought occurred to Lester as Peter pulled another pot out of the drawer and placed it upside down on his head. "D'you even have any magic at all, Petey? That would crush your mother if you didn't."

Peter squeaked again.

"Ever man and woman in this family has turn out to be a witch or wizard. If you were the one exception, I think your mother'd throw herself off the roof."

Suddenly a wicked grin coursed across Lester's face. "Of course. What better way? What better way to test if you really do have magic?" Thus decided, Lester scooped up Peter and pulled the pot off his head. "C'mon, kid," he said, "let's go find a ladder."

*~*~*

Mr. and Mrs. Pettigrew were walking home from their friend's house down the street, talking happily about the wonderful time they'd had.

Mrs. Pettigrew was the first to spot the figure silouetted against the moon on the roof.

"What's Lester doing up there?" she wondered.

Mr. Pettigrew squinted. "I don't know. It looks like he's got Peter up there too. He's swinging something back and forth, gaining momentum -"

He was cut off by his wife. "NO LESTER! YOU TWISTED SADISTIC MORON!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, breaking into a sprint. "DON'T THROW THE BABY!..."

*~*~*

The giant squashy cushion appeared out of midair a split-second too late, and floated down on top of Peter, instead of underneath.

"Oops," muttered Lester.

The next thing he knew, he was being dragged across the roof by his ears. His extremely irate sister kept up a vicious stream of invective the entire time.

"Ow! Ow! Owww!"

"I ought to throw you off the roof, you child-murdering, pathetic excuse for a human being!" Mrs. Pettigrew growled.

"Peter's still alive!" called Mr. Pettigrew from the sideyard. "He's still squeaking!"

"Ow! I swear, Joan, I was only testing - ow! to see if he had any magic in him! OW!"

"There were other ways!" she shrieked in disgust, twisting harder.

"OWWW! Yes, but I proved he does, didn't I? I didn't make that cushion appear."

Mrs. Pettigrew stopped twisting her brother's ear. "Good. He has magic. That means they'll at least accept him at St. Mungo's. Because I'd have hated to be you explaining to the Muggle doctors just exactly why you were tossing your nephew off the roof." She glared daggers at him.

Lester gulped.

*~*~*

"I'm bored," sighed Sirius, wriggling in his chair as he glared at his elder cousins, Bellatrix, six, and Andromeda, eight.

Andromeda shushed him. "Be quiet, we're gonna try to eavesdrop on the adults."

"Do we have to? I'd rather thleep," he whined.

Bellatrix's eyes gleamed. "I want to drop a Dungbomb over the railing just outside the parlour."

"Yeth, let'th!" agreed Sirius, grinning happily, his complaints forgotten. "I wanna drop it thith time."

"Who said you were included, midget?" Bellatrix said imperiously. "You're too little."

Sirius' lower lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears.

"Never mind her," Andromeda said comfortingly. "Of course you're included, Siri."

"It'th Thiriuth," he insisted. "Not Thiri." He was disgusted.

"Right, Siri," she said absent-mindedly. She was thinking. Andromeda glanced at Bellatrix, who was poking at something on a shelf in the alcove. "The only thing is, I don't think we have any Dungbombs left."

"Damn!"

"Bella, you know you're not supposed to swear, especially in front of the baby. Aunty said so." Actually, her aunt had said no such thing, but Bellatrix wasn't to know that. She was terrified of Mrs. Black.

"I'm not a baby!" Sirius was outraged.

"Sorry."

"What about the house elf?" Bellatrix persisted. "Can we drop him -"

"That'th cruel!"

"So? It'd be funny."

"No, sis. We'll just eavesdrop this time."

The two girls crouched as far down the stairs as they could without being seen from the parlour. Sirius, not understanding a great deal of the talk his cousins were so avidly listening to, wandered off down the hallway, poking at things on the shelves.

*~*~*

"Yow!" came Sirius' cry.

"Aunty!" called Andromeda in the surprised silence that followed. "Sirius's been bitten by that silver teacup of yours!" There was a pause, then she added, disgusted, "His hand's turning all green, and bubbly!"

"It'th cool!" protested Sirius.

"I told you that thing would cause trouble," Mr. Black groaned. "I reckon it's got poison."

"Looks like he's for the hospital," Mrs. Black sighed, rising to her feet. "Silly kid, touching things he knows he shouldn't."

*