Summary:

When two outrageous punks with a weird sense of humour arrive at Hogwarts there is pranking in the air. They are convinced that the British are boring, unadventurous people. The marauders disagree.Now they are both determined to fix this in their own unique way. Though a group of boys feel particularly threatened NOW begins the ultimateprank war but why are these students always around them? Why are they always in sight? James thinks they're weird, Sirius thinks they're an addition to the fan club,Remus think they're just plain insane and Peter doesn't reallythink anything. But why do they have guitars and what goes on late at night in the room of requirements. Only one person knows CHAOS.

Disclaimer: We do not own anything you recognize as not ours. Including settings.

Chapter one

Sirius Black was bored. So? I hear many of you in the audience ask. But you see, Sirius Black was special. He never got bored. Ahhhhhhhhhh! He was too interesting and handsome and smart and charming and original –

"Sirius, are you composing one of those talk show thingies in your head again?" James Potter asked.

"I'm just so bored! What else is there to do?" demanded Sirius. Remus Lupin looked up from the chess game he was playing – and winning – against James.

"You could always – dare I say it – do your homework?" Remus responded sarcastically. A series of gasps ran around the room. Well, actually, Sirius ran around the room gasping, as he was still in talk-show mode and had to do the audience noises as well.

"Sirius, darling, what are you doing?" came the puzzled voice of Mrs. Rose Potter.

"Why look here! Our first guest! Would everyone please give it up for . . . Mrs. Potter!" Sirius introduced dramatically. Mrs. Potter, a small, thin lady, scooted around Sirius as he was clapping and bowing to the 'audience'.

"James, a new family has moved in down the street, and your father and I are going down to welcome them. Heaven knows they'll need it in times like these . . . " she sighed. She looked away for a moment, before turning back to James. "Anyway," she continued with a bright smile, "We were wondering if you boys would like to come. Get outside for a bit of fresh air; have a nice walk. You do seem a little . . ." she glanced furtively at Sirius, who was now trying to lick his elbow while hopping on James' school trunk, "bored." James immediately brightened at the prospect of something to occupy Sirius.

"We'd love to go! That would be simply divine! Oh, and Mrs. Potter, I should tell you. Orange is not the new blahck." Sirius exclaimed in a high class British accent before James could say anything. Mrs. Potter looked down at her violently orange shirt.

"Maybe you're right. I think I'll change. Oh, and Remus, your mother called. She wants you home tomorrow, okay? Something about your aunt. You boys get ready. And no Sirius you cannot walk the dog there! I remember what happened last time!" Mrs. Potter called over her shoulder, leaving Sirius to pout and Remus to wallow in self-pity at the horror of having Aunt Flo over.

Down the hall, Mrs. Potter saw her husband, Harold Potter. "The boys said it would be simply divine to come." Mr. Potter merely nodded, quite used to Sirius' antics and carried on down the hall. "Oh, and Harold?" Mrs. Potter's curious voice floated down the hallway. "Before you go, what is 'blahck'?"

Twenty minutes and several talk-show guests later, the Marauders-minus- Peter-plus-the-Potter-parents were on their way down the street. They were all immersed in their own thoughts. Mr. Potter looked around. James was day-dreaming that it was Lily that had moved in down the street. Mrs. Potter was pondering the ingredients of the goulash she was carrying, as she had foolishly let her son's friends make it. Sirius was imagining that he was in Hawaii, complete with Hula dancing and surfing movements. Remus was fantasizing about murdering Sirius with a wooden spoon. All in all, it was a happy walk.

At number 13, Roderage Lane, the small party stopped in front of a small house, with gnarled wisteria vines snaking their way up the wall. Just to the left of the front door was an old, used–to–be–gold coloured plaque. In fancy, twirling writing with several un-needed curlicues was the word 'Roselied'.

Remus pondered the origin of the name, wondering if it came from the words 'Rose lied'. Maybe there was a huge mystery about a girl called Rose. She went out, but promised her parents that she'd be back by ten, but she never came back. She was kidnapped! By . . . rogue donut-makers! No! By Australians! She put up a fight, but they were to strong for her! As they dragged Rose away, she remembered the promised that she had made . . .

Unaware of the drama that was unfolding within his best friend's head, James casually strolled up the path, his entire demeanor screaming 'What? Squeal at that spider hanging on the fence? Me? Bah, you're hearing things! Why would I be afraid of such a small spider? Nope, wasn't m-' James stopped, looking up at the house in disbelief. It was tiny! Of course James either lived at the Potter's mansion or at Hogwarts, so he had high standards.

"James! Stop staring! It's rude!" Mrs. Potter scolded. James immediately looked away, turning to Sirius instead.

"Isn't it tiny?" he hissed to Sirius.

"I don't know. I like it. It looks . . . cozy." Sirius responded absently, looking up at the attic window.

"Whatcha looking at?" asked Remus curiously, looking at the window as well. He looked at the window. Then to Sirius. Then back to the window. He tilted his head in exactly the same way Sirius was, in hopes that he might see something.

"What are you looking at?" James demanded as his parents rang the doorbell.

"Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw a girl up there." Sirius responded. Remus snorted.

"Trust you to think of girls!" he commented, receiving an elbow in the ribs for doing so. Remus glared at Sirius and moved to the other side of James.

"Now, boys, be polite!" Mrs. Potter instructed.

"Aren't we always?" Sirius asked sweetly, giving Mrs. Potter a wide-eyed innocent look. She sighed, cursing the day she had decided not to have a daughter.

Mr. Potter rang the doorbell again, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited. "Maybe they're not in." he told his wife.

"Oh, don't worry. Sirius saw his future wife at the attic window. There's somebody in there." Remus answered, deftly ducking a whack on the head from Sirius' direction. Suddenly, the door opened. A man popped his head out. He sighed.

"No, I don't want a new door, I just moved in so I don't need any Eazy-Cleen, and no I don't want a daisy-patterned dog-house!" The man squinted at them. "You are door-to-door salesmen, right?"

"Oh . . . um . . . well . . . " tried Mr. Potter, still slightly shocked.

"No, actually we're your neighbors! We live just a little way down the street. We just wanted to welcome you to England." and, as mothers are prone to do, Mrs. Potter saved the day. Of course, a bright smile and the pot of goulash helped.

"Sorry, but there seems to be an abnormal amount of door-to-door salesmen around here." apologized the man, "My name is John Lyon. Please, come in." he opened the door wider and beckoned them in. "Are these your sons?"

"Oh, no. Only James here. Remus and Sirius are his friends." Mr. Potter responded, pointing out the boys as he said their names.

James could already tell that this was going to be an extremely boring visit, and decided to poke Remus and share his feelings

"This is going to be boring." he hissed.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Remus responded, amused.

"Let's blow it up!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Thank you," Remus said sarcastically, "for that intelligent contribution to our conversation."

"Boys! Come on!" Mrs. Potter interrupted, herding them into the house.

Mr. Lyon said, "I'll just call my wife. She'll want to meet you." he turned away from them, so that he faced up the stairs. ''Kayleen? Kayleen!'' nobody, answered, so he shrugged and turned back to the Potters. ''She must be in the attic. We've been trying to paint it and make it look nicer. I'll go and get her in a minute, but first I'll just take you to the kitc-'' the last of Mr. Lyon's words were drowned out as they heard a large explosion come from the room at the top of the stairs.

As smoke leaked out from under the doorway, someone inside pushed it open, so the smoke billowed out in a great cloud.

Sounds of people coughing were heard, and eventually the smoke cleared enough for them to see two teenage girls, coughing and waving their hands to dissipate the smoke. One, slightly shorter than the other, reached across and patted the other one's arm, effectively putting out a small flame that had been burning there.

''I told you not to add that powder! But did you listen?'' the taller one raved.

''Nope!'' the shorter girl, who sported electric blue hair, finished brightly. The other girl shook her head; shaking out her loose green highlighted curls, and glared at the other girl.

''But Holly, did you have to use my French homework as kindling?'' she complained. Her friend grinned.

''I guess you would have preferred me to use your curtains? Yeah, I didn't think so. Besides, it's not like we even have French anymore.'' An evil smile spread across the black haired girl's face. She brushed the entire smoke residue off of her baggy jeans and t-shirt

''Say goodbye to you French homework!'' she laughed and ran back into the room. The blue-haired girl sighed, patted off any remaining ashes from her sleeveless shirt, shrugged, and followed.

''Sorry, that was my daughter and her friend.'' Mr. Lyon said, frowning.

''Which one was your daughter?'' this was Sirius. James rolled his eyes.

''Only you.'' Remus muttered.

''The taller girl, Sam, is mine, and the one with blue hair, Holly, is as good as.'' Mr. Lyon explained. Mr. Potter looked at Sirius. ''Sound like someone else I know?'' he grinned.

''I am not as good as a daughter to you!'' Sirius said indignantly. James sighed.

''You know what he meant.''

Mr. Lyon, still frowning, quickly led the way to the kitchen. Mrs. Potter looked around, amazed at how clean it was. Having a teenage son, she was well aware at how hard it was to keep a clean kitchen – or anything, for that matter. She gave a shudder as her thoughts lingered on James' room.

''So how do you keep you kitchen so clean?'' Mrs. Potter asked conversationally. James groaned, remembering all those long conversations with their next-door neighbor, going on for hours. About kitchens, of all things!

''Oh, it's only because we haven't let Sam in yet. It'll be a bomb zone when we let he-'' Mr. Lyon was yet again cut off by the rather loud and unexpected arrival of none-other than his only daughter.

''Hey, Dad, we were wondering if you still wanted those freaky floral-patterned curtains, 'cause if not, Hols, Seb, Matt and I are going to build a bon-fire. We were going to stuff your curtains with straw, then burn it. According to Matt, if we cut off all of Seb's hair and stick it on top of your curtain, it'll look like a person. But we haven't got Seb's vote on that yet.'' Sam stopped talking for a second to look around her. ''Nice kitchen. Very clean. Love what you've done with the whole Paper-floor thing.'' she observed.

''That would be the rubbish from our unpacking.'' Mr. Lyon said patiently. ''And no, you may not burn my floral shirts! I've had those twenty years!'' he finalized. Sam looked confused for a moment, before saying

''Those were shirts? Oh. That explains a lot. Well, you coulda fooled me. Ah well. I'll go ask Seb about those polka-dotted blankets his mom has.'' Sam muttered, slowly trying to sidle out of the room, shooting worried looks in Remus' direction. As arrived at the doorway, she turned and sped down the hall.

''She only did that because I was mad at her for scorching the sink.'' came a voice from behind Remus. He spun around and came face to face with a middle-aged woman.

''There you are! I was just going to get you. This is Rose and Harold Potter, from down the street.'' Mr. Lyon said. ''And this is my wife, Kayleen.'' he said, introducing the woman. She had short brown hair, cropped to her chin.

Mr. Potter plastered on his face what he hoped was a welcoming smile. He really had to work at this whole neighbor-thing. Mrs. Potter however, reached across the table to shake Mrs. Lyon's hand.

''It's a pleasure. Oh, and this is James, Sirius and Remus.'' Mrs. Potter said, smiling and not taking her eyes of Mrs. Lyon. Who in fact had started to look very confused.

''You named our . . . chairs?'' she asked slowly. Mrs. Potter looked over at the boys. Or where the boys had been. The chairs they had been occupying were now empty.

''Oh dear.''