I woke up around dawn again— when it wasn't the full moon, it was a sometimes unfortunate habit of mine— and found Sirius, Peter, and James still asleep. As quietly as I could, I dressed, dug out a book, and settled on my bed with it. It happened to be my herbology book, which I had glanced through when I first got and not really read a lot of. I quickly buried myself in it.

It wasn't to last long, however. When the sun was fully in the sky, James's internal clock went off. He yawned, tossed in his bed for a moment, and sat up. "Up already, Remus?" he asked with another yawn. "I'd have no idea how you'd do it."

I smiled. "I dunno what I'd do without half an hour to myself every morning— and it looks like I'm still going to get it."

James nodded, tossed the bed sheet off, and grabbed his clothes, retreating into the bathroom. Sometime while he was in there, Peter also crawled out of bed, muttering something strange about cats and flaming tortoises. I chose not to even ask. James reappeared dressed and Peter took his place, leaving him staring at Sirius, who was still snoring. "You reckon we should wake him up?"

After Diagon Alley, I had some idea of Sirius's strength and his lack of control over— or knowledge about— it. "Be my guest. It's your funeral."

James thought about it and tackled him. Sirius groaned and pushed him back out of the bed, throwing the blanket back over his head. James was unaffected. He stood up and pushed Sirius out of bed. With a groan, Sirius sat up, rubbing the shoulder that had hit the ground first. "What sis you do that for?" he demanded groggily. "What time is it?"

"A little after seven," I answered.

Sirius scowled at James. I grinned. "I did tell you it was your funeral, didn't I?" I asked James, marking my place in the herbology book and turning to see what the two of them did.

Sirius launched himself at James, and the two were tousling on the floor by the time that Peter came out of the bathroom. He stood in the door, watching, until Sirius finally pinned James. Sportsmanlike, he picked James's glasses up off the floor and handed them to him, then grabbed his clothes and toothbrush and retreated into the bathroom. "It's not that he's not a morning person," James observed, "just that he's a nightmare to wake up."

Peter grinned. "Ah, is that what caused the commotion?"

"Sadly, yes," James answered, throwing his blanket back on his bed and sitting down on it. "So do we wait for Sirius or go down for breakfast?"

We decided to wait for Sirius, who emerged a few minutes later, still a little disheveled but very much awake. "What're you three waiting for?" he asked absently. "Let's eat."

We followed him downstairs and got lost on our way to the Great Hall. A Ravenclaw prefect had to show us back down, and Sirius tried to sit at the Hufflepuff table, to the great amusement of two older Hufflepuff girls. When we finally got to the right table, we were laughing about it, too, although any of the other three of us could've made the same mistake.

Sirius and James were still discussing what they could do to begin a reputation at Hogwarts, and Peter and I were tentatively beginning to offer suggestions— or reasons to just behave ourselves. Eventually, the owls flew in, raising a racket even Sirius couldn't talk over and swooping down with everyone's mail. Mum's owl landed in front of me, carrying a letter from my parents. A black and brown owl landed in front of James, likewise offering him a letter. To this day, I swear that the thing that landed in front of Sirius might have been a vulture for the face.

Sirius removed the letter, dodging its snapping beak. "Wonderful," he murmured, holding up the red envelope.

"Well, hearing it out's better than it exploding, isn't it?"

"Well, exploding'll be more interesting, but if it bursts into flame Bellatrix will just write Mum and I'll get another one," Sirius answered, unsealing the thing as the vulture creature flew off.

"Honestly a son of mine in Gryffindor? Aren't you a Black, Sirius? Why am I even asking you— of course you're not! It's not as if you ever behaved like one before, why should you start! Honestly, in the opposing house with Mudbloods and blood traitors! It's a disgrace. . . ." The letter continued to shout at him, Sirius staring mildly at it as if it was reminding him to actually do his homework, until finally it incinerated itself anyway, and he brushed the ashes off the table.

"All that for the House," he answered with a yawn. "What d'you reckon it'll be when we finally start pulling pranks on the Slytherins. She used to embarrass me sometimes, you know— I think she's losing her touch. How about the two if you?" he added to James and I.

"My aunt's taking my mother shopping. Dad thinks she's suffering from separation," James answered with a grin. "She wants to know what House I am, what I think of my classes, and a whole lot of other things that I don't want you to know about." He paused to slide the letter away as Sirius snatched playfully at it. "I'd better write immediately, according to him, and I'd better assure her I'm enjoying my classes and am eating right at the end of the week. Now Remus gets to be embarrassed."

I grumbled something to my food. "Mum needs to be assured I'm doing alright, too. She said Dad would make her let him write the letter, except he hit himself with the hammer again— that's a Muggle tool used for putting things together," I added to Sirius and James blank looks. Peter chuckled at my need to explain. "And his right hand's swollen so much he can't."

"You're dad must be some kind of a klutz," Peter commented.

"He is."

A prefect wandered over and gave us our lists of classes soon afterwards. First thing that morning, we had Transfiguration. "McGonagall's teaching that, isn't she?" James asked. "Our Head of House?"

"If its favoritism you're hoping for, forget it," one of the older students near us announced. "If you want that, you'll have to be a Slytherin— Farbauti favors his classes." He yawned and returned to his eggs.

"I just want to size her up, actually," James admitted.

"You won't get away with a whole lot in her classes— or elsewhere. She's fair but she's really strict. Now let me eat!" the older student announced.

He was right about McGonagall. The minute we found the classroom— about the time the bell rang— and slid into seats at the back of the room, she started to talk. "All of you, I'm sure, recognize me from the sorting ceremony, so there is no need to introduce myself. My subject, on the other hand. . . . Transfiguration is not a game, however tempting it may be to treat it as such, and anyone who does so will find themselves out of my class— and possibly out of Hogwarts— very quickly. It is a tool, and one of the most dangerous fields of magic."

She turned her desk into a horse, which circled the room and made Peter nervous, until McGonagall convinced it to come back and become a desk again. Most of the class got pretty excited about the subject, then, though she set us to turning needles into toothpicks, which she said was standard procedure.

It was harder than Professor McGonagall had made it look, and it wasn't the incantation. Sirius got rather frustrated with it and managed to change his needle from silver to blue. Neither Peter nor I succeeded in working a change, but James's needle was pointed on both ends by the end of class. After class, he admitted to Ollivander commenting that his wand was especially good for Transfiguration.

"Ollivander didn't tell me anything about my wand," Sirius announced. "He just told me I really ought to mind my mother."

"Which you didn't listen to," I pointed out.

"Where's the fun in behaving?" Sirius asked.

After Transfiguration, we went to greenhouses for Herbology, which was a job to even find. We ended up all the way across the grounds, when Hagrid, the giant that had led us across the lake, pointed us in the right direction. Seeing as it was the first day of school, Professor Sprout told us we should know where it is now and she wouldn't take points off next time.

Sirius quickly announced is disappointment in Herbology because there was nothing dangerous in Greenhouse One, where we worked with plants that were almost normal. Peter retorted that he wouldn't like to be put somewhere dangerous on the first day of school.

After that we had lunch, in which Sirius and James continued to plot their entrance into the school. I told them that if they intended to make fools of themselves, they's better do it before next Thursday. Both of them gave me the strangest looks, until I realized what I'd said. I could be an idiot.

"Well, Rem, if you insist," Sirius answered. "We'll do it before next Thursday."

I went even redder then and nodded. "What . . . what've we got next?" I asked to change the subject.

"What? Oh . . . Defense Against the Dark Arts," James answered after a moment, diving into his bag and pulling out his schedule.

"Who with?" Peter asked.

"'Professor Jack Farbauti'," James read.

"Isn't that the head of Slytherin House?" Sirius asked.

"Well, yeah. . . ." James shrugged. "Guess we might have to be a little careful, unless we want to— probably— loose the first points of the year."

"I get the feeling you'll do that every year," I murmured.

Author's Note: For those of you that have noticed my habit up updating this every Sunday, I got on to upload it two weeks ago just to find out that it was down for two days! Life is unfair sometimes! Padfoot— thanks, just thanks, as to everyone else! Cheers! — Loki