Note: From this point on, the teenager/younger Sirius will be referred to as Sirius. I doubt it will be too confusing, since the first person is from the older one.

Peter and Remus were the only ones paying attention to me, actually— James and Sirius had unsurprisingly started an argument, and Remus kept glancing back in case he needed to break them up. It was so typical of all of us I almost laughed— the long-suffering look across Rem's face was particularly reminiscent of when I was the one there. It hit me for the first time that I was the one there. "Yes?" I asked, a little quickly.

Peter looked taken aback. I'd almost always had to look down to meet him in the eye, but with me at full height and him almost four inches under his the result was exaggerated— even James was taller than Peter, and we used to tease him to about being that short, and when we commented that Harry looked just like his father, I'd jokingly remark that he was going to hate James's genetics if it came to height.

I shook my head, trying to come back to things that were happening or had already happened. Remus looked from me to Sirius rapidly. "Good lord," he muttered. "Sirius, are you related by any chance?"

The younger me looked up, and met my eyes. In my case, it was a moment of pure panic, and for the other version probably shock. "Not unless my mum blasted him off the tapestry before I can remember," Sirius said at last, "and I'm sure someone would have commented how much we look alike." He shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "Maybe they'd explain the 'Black sheep' thing that way. . . ."

Remus turned expectantly to me, lifting a questioning eyebrow. "Do you know if you are?"

"I doubt it. 'Barker's not a pureblood name; the way he said black sheep it sounds to me he's a Black," I answered carefully. "Striking coincidence, though."

The four of them glanced from one to another, finally shrugging. "Well, Wormtail?" James asked finally. "You didn't get his attention to ask if he was related to Padfoot, did you?"

"I doubt he noticed," Sirius answered dryly.

"Well . . . no . . . I didn't," Peter admitted. He turned back to me, and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes at the slight confusion. Looking at things from their perspective, it seemed pretty straightforward— it was me who had the right to be confused. "Mr. Barker—"

"My name is Si— Scott," I corrected, both him and myself. The name change was going to take a little getting used to.

"Scott. . . ." Peter amended. He mumbled something under his breath. James, Remus, and both of me rolled our eyes. Ole Wormtail went red.

"Another thing to add to our list of things to do— get Pete comfortable talking to girls and adults," Remus muttered. "You act like he's going to curse you," he added to him.

"This is Zonko's," I pointed out. "You never know."

Remus gave me quite the look. Peter glared back at him. "I'm just a little surprised— it's not every day that we meet someone who likes like one of our best friends just thirty years older!"

"Twenty," I muttered. "Twenty." Half consciously I reached up to my hair— Moony had been worse but I was going grey a little fast, too. Azkaban had definitely done damage— no wonder they thought I was older than I really was.

Peter turned back to me. By now James and Sirius has resumed their tussle, and Rem kept glancing back, trying to decide if he needed to tell them to save it or not. "Well," Peter announced. "We were looking for Dungbombs, but they don't seem to be where they should be."

I shook my head. It would be. "We may be out, but David didn't look very hard before he left, and I'm the only one in here at the moment. What d'you want them for?"

Remus shook his head, and with a pickpocket's fingers slid Sirius and James's wands out of their pockets in case they decided to do something with them. "You don't want to know," he announced calmly.

"What doesn't he want to know?" James demanded. "D'you or don't you, Mr.—" I glared; being addressed like that by James was even worse then by Lily. ". . . er, Scott?"

"Your friend does not regard me as wanting to know what you planned to do with the Dungbombs you intended to buy. If it was spurred by overhearing the password to the Slytherin common room, I might go back and look. If it has anything to do with the library, I'll save you Pince's detention by not."

All four of them goggled at me. I laughed. "The Troublemaker's Hall of Fame should build a monument to me. I was honestly that bad in school, so I am well acquainted with the punishments of just about every teacher in that building. I was also a Gryffindor, which accounts for the Slytherin comment."

"They've dedicated that building to James and Sirius, I swear," Remus muttered. "Not that Peter and I don't have our places in it. Frankly, though, I've never had an adult admit to being mischievous like that before."

"I think having the terms 'troublemaker' and 'hell raiser' pinned on you regularly is a requirement for applying here," I said with a shrug. "So what were you planning."

"Let it be known that I, Remus Lupin, have had absolutely nothing to do with this!" Rem exclaimed. "Peter Pettigrew," he added, indicating the chubby boy, "and James Potter and Sirius Black— that pair of lunatics behind me— did it all, and I think I may avoid participation, as technically its sabotage to do that during the Slytherin-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Those three will spend the rest of their natural lives in detention for this, and I'm supposed to be keeping them in line."

I grinned. "Ah, the badge."

"Fat lot of good its done," Sirius announced cheerfully. "We not only cause hell without him stopping us, he's in on it half the time."

"Padfoot, shut up," Remus advised him.

"Of course not," Sirius announced indignantly. The sandy-haired teenager shoved him, but by the time I'd turned sixteen I had enough grace to keep my feet, if not much more.

"I believe I shall save you the tedium of spending an entire year in evening detention," I announced. "In other words, I'm still too lazy to go look, and I think it's a bit hard on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. How're the teams this year, anyway?"

I'd asked the right question to keep them talking at me for fifteen minutes, especially James, who'd had to complain loudly about losing one of the other Chasers and the Beaters on the Gryffindor team. Sirius announced several times that if his head was as big as Evans apparently thought it was, than he should think he'd have no problem even without Sam Walker's help. James offered to help Remus drown him, as he had apparently been threatening to do that morning. It was Rem that finally admitted that the Slytherin team was pretty good, too. Pete insisted that Gryffindors always came out on top when it came to Quidditch.

For the most part, I let them talk while remembering those matches— I was back in the "old days", back before Voldemort's reign of terror was far too great and before I graduated. It finally struck me that that was true, listening to Remus try to get through our thick heads that a new team meant rearranging the advantages.

Finally, though, a Ravenclaw boy asked me what had happened to the wet-start fireworks, I turned to help him out, and the four of them wandered off. As the door closed behind them, I heard another word that brought back memories, not all of them particularly pleasant. My own voice— "Hullo, Snivellus."

"Clear the road," I muttered.

The argument, this time, must've been a long one, because it was four or five minutes before I heard a commotion outside. And apparently he had some friends with him, because it was a much bigger commotion than if it had been the four of us on Snape.

White hot pain shot up my left side a few moments later, and there was no real explanation for it. I yelped, got a few looks, and strove to ignore them. "Maybe someone needs to go break them up," I announced finally, heading for the door and opening it. "What in the hell is going on?"

Author's Note: Yeah, um . . . I just wanted to say I'm very sorry bout the little outburst in the A/N of last chapter, if I offended you or stopped your reviews in any way I didn't mean to! I just hate reviews that discuss: A/Ns, a review I gave YOU, or your stories; anything else I'm fine with. And I'm not so sorry about another cliffhanger. I'll stop doing it eventually, promise! Thank you all of you that did review! Cheers! — Loki