Better Than Quidditch:

The Kibbles & Bits Rewrite

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, but belong to JK Rowling, the lucky girl! So, obviously I make no money from this... but, my goodness, it's fun.

A/N: Yes, yes, I did previously write a version of this story, but after I posted it, I realized it was only a shadow of what I'd meant the story to be. That's what I get, I suppose, for writing it in a hurry. Please, please, pretty please – R/R!! Reviews are my oxygen!!

FIRST YEAR

The first time eleven-year-old James Potter mounted a school broomstick, he immediately fell off it, and his best friend Sirius Black nearly laughed himself sick.

"Good thing you weren't trying out for Quidditch, mate!" Sirius gasped, tears of mirth streaming from his eyes. James, pretending to ignore him, pulled out his wand and muttered reparo! at his cracked glasses.

"Hey," said Sirius, after he calmed down. "Can you do that again?"

James threw himself at the other boy with an indignant yell. "I bloody well will not!" he shouted, pummeling Sirius who simply burst out laughing again.

A shrill whistle interrupted them. "Boys!" said Madam Hooch, exasperated. "Kindly constrain yourselves before I'm forced to dock House points."

Sirius and James awkwardly pulled each other up. "Yes, ma'am," they chorused. Sirius was still giggling.

"Hmph," Madam Hooch sniffed. "Let's try again, shall we?"

James Potter, black hair awry and grass stains dotting his school robes, mounted his allotted broomstick again and took off quite gracefully.

"Bloody show-off," Sirius muttered under his breath as he fell off his own broom.

They were four that year in the Gryffindor boys' dorm, four eleven-year-old First Years who were contemplating their upcoming seven years of magical education with varying degrees of apprehension and anticipation.

Sirius threw himself full-length across his bed, absently brushing a thick lock of black hair out of his eyes as he did so. Rolling over onto his side, he happily surveyed the room and its occupants. "Bloody amazing," he murmured, half to himself. Slightly louder, he said, "Oi! Potter! What're you grousing about?"

James glanced up from where he was stretched out across his own bed. "I want a broom," he said moodily, ruffling a hand through his already messy black hair.

"First Years aren't allowed their own brooms," said Remus Lupin from across the room. "You know that." Thin and pale, he gave off a perpetual aura of slight weariness, though Sirius suspected the boy wasn't nearly as delicate and fragile as he appeared.

"Still want one," mumbled James.

Remus sat carefully at the edge of his own neatly-made bed, toying idly with the edges of his school robes. They were already a few weeks into classes, but Remus still couldn't believe he was actually here – here! – at Hogwarts, when he'd never expected to have been allowed to attend in the first place. And then, unbelievably, to have been Sorted into Gryffindor! Gryffindors were noted for their bravery and daring; Remus didn't feel particularly brave. Rather, he felt nervous and wary. He cast a sideways glance at the fourth member of their dorm, a shortish boy with pale eyes and mouse-coloured hair.

Peter Pettigrew looked – and felt – downright miserable. He, too, was astounded at the results of his Sorting. He'd already known he wasn't nearly smart enough for Ravenclaw, or cunning enough for Slytherin – not that he'd wanted to be in Slytherin! – but Peter had been fairly sure he'd have been put into Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff, he'd heard, would take just about anyone.

"Knut for your thoughts, Peter?" Remus asked, smiling kindly at him.

Peter sighed. "D'you suppose the Sorting Hat ever makes mistakes?" he ventured.

"Not a bit," James piped up confidently. "My family's all been Gryffindors. Got me right in one."

Sirius snorted. "What's that say about me, then?" he said. "My family's all been Slytherin – well, mostly. I think there's been the odd Ravenclaw – we don't talk about them much -- but I'm sure I'm the first Gryffindor."

"Slytherin?" said Peter. "Really? Why aren't you?"

"Dunno," said Sirius, hauling himself up into a sitting position. "Don't care, really. Actually, I don't much like most of my family," he added.

Remus stared at him. "Are they all Dark wizards? I've heard the Slytherins all come out Dark."

"Mostly." Sirius grimaced and added, "It's a bit creepy, you know."

Peter asked, "D'you think the Hat misplaced you?"

"Nope," said Sirius, and grinned. "My family's a miserable lot, always acting like they're better than anyone else. Why would I want to be like that?"

"I think I was supposed to be in Hufflepuff," said Peter morosely. "I'm not brave."

"Peter," Remus said gently. "We're eleven. I don't think anyone expects us to be brave yet."

"James, d'you know you've spread jam on the same piece of toast three times already?" Remus asked at breakfast one morning in the Great Hall.

"Huh?" Startled, James looked down at his toast. Indeed the layer of jam was rather thick. "Must've been distracted."

"I wouldn't have mentioned it," Remus added, "but it's actually my toast."

"Sorry," said James, holding it out. "Here you go."

Remus eyed the jam-laden bit of toast dubiously. "It's alright," he said. "You keep it."

"Who're you ogling?" Sirius asked, twisting in his seat to follow James' gaze as Peter snuck his hand in to filch the toast.

"Evans," James said, a bit dreamily.

"Evan who?" Sirius craned his neck a bit more, eyes roving over the tables. "What House? And why?"

"Not Evan," James explained patiently. "Lily Evans. Gryffindor. A First Year, like us. You must have seen her in classes."

Sirius shot him an odd look that plainly said James was nothing but a lovesick git. "James, you're a lovesick git," he said conversationally, as James was far too busy Lily-gazing to catch meaningful looks from a dorm-mate. He turned back to his breakfast, poking his eggs suspiciously with his knife.

Remus snorted. "Don't worry," he said, as Sirius glanced over at him. "They didn't touch anything else on the plate."

"Are you absolutely sure?" asked Sirius, frowning at Remus' bemused expression.

"Yes," Remus affirmed. "No, really," he added, as Sirius' frown deepened. "I was watching them."

"You were watching my breakfast?"

No, you git, Remus thought. I was watching you, but d'you think I'm going to admit that? Besides, to the best of Remus' knowledge, boys weren't supposed to Notice Other Boys -- even if the other boy in question had hair like black silk, and eyes like the sea after a storm, and...

"Remus? Why are you watching me eat?"

Remus, flushing briefly, shook himself back to reality and picked up his pumpkin juice. This was going to be a long, long year.