A/N: Well, here it is! Sunday has arrived and the Day of Pranks will ensue! Remember, there will be one more chapter after this one -- you know, tying up loose ends, falling action, etc. Well, originally, it was all going to be one chapter, but then I realized how freakin' long it would be -- so that leaves this particular chapter with an unwarranted cliffhanger and such. I promise to have the last chapter up in a few days. So I apologize now about the length of this chapter! I'll also mention that a large portion of this chapter takes place in third-person pont of view.

Warnings: None. Although if you do not find yourself laughing at least once when reading this chapter (and the next), then I have failed you as an author... Oh, and there's a bit of Snape-bashing... but it's warranted, don't you think? Also, I don't know if Lucius played seeker, but you know what? I don't care. It fits for this story.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, though I wish I could own some of the pranks...

Enjoy!

Planning, Plotting, and Pranking -- Chapter Eight

POV -- Third Person

It was another early practice for the Slytherin Quidditch team – way too early, Lucius Malfoy thought with a scowl, unhappy about the fact that he could see his breath crystallize in front of him. Of course, he figured, it was partially a psychological thing, considering November mornings were already quite dark to begin with. So, really, it wasn't all that horrendously early, if the horizon was glowing orange beyond the Forbidden Forest. Still, Malfoy thought grumpily, his broom on his shoulder, a few more hours' worth of beauty sleep would be appreciated. As soon as their eight o'clock practice was over, they'd join their comrades at the Slytherin table and eat a hearty meal and spend the rest of the day sleeping.

Or so Lucius hoped.

The grass of the Quidditch pitch was covered in a fine layer of frost, but the sun would burn that away soon enough and hopefully raise the temperature to something that was somewhat bearable. At least it's not raining… Or snowing. Lucius joined the rest of his team at the edge of the playing field, where their Keeper was already relaying his plans for the practice. Lucius couldn't have cared less; their next match was in two weeks, against Hufflepuff – a team that was absolutely ghastly this season. We could beat them blindfolded, he thought with a half-smirk, before mounting his broom and joining the rest of his team in the chilly November sky.

The sun was edging closer and closer to the horizon, lighting the heavens to a pale blue. When it finally did rise, Lucius knew, they'd all be blinded. Who the hell was the brilliant one who scheduled all our practices for eight in the morning! While the rest of his team went over strategies to avoid the Bludgers, Lucius, the Seeker, went about his duty to try and find the escaped Snitch. Though it was dawn, he was still having a hard time finding the winged ball, and Lucius flew higher until the pitch was a small oval beneath him. Maybe I can just sleep up here.

All at once, everything happened. Lucius' broom lurched violently, bucking like a rabid horse, and he struggled to hang on. It zoomed right, then left, then did a pirouette and, much to his horror, began to descend rapidly, like a missile. Lucius swore, his knuckles white, the frozen air hitting his face as the ground rushed nearer and nearer. At that moment, the sun peeked over the horizon and – improbably – the frost-covered pitch became a blinding white. "Oh, bugger," Lucius murmured, his voice very hoarse. The ground below had turned into a sheet of ice – and he was hurdling toward it on his haywire broom, his altitude one-hundred feet and falling.

Meanwhile, the rest of his team was experiencing similar difficulties – though Lucius was pretty sure that none of them had their lives flashing before their eyes. When the ground was only three feet away – and the thought of I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I'm gonna die was resounding nonstop through Lucius' head – his broom veered just in time, rushing him along parallel to the ice, his feet scraping against its frozen surface. In front of him, a hockey net materialized out of nowhere, and Lucius realized, with suspended horror, that he was heading straight for it.

Thirty yards away, Lily Evans hid behind the trunk of a tree, a look of amusement and terror playing out across her face. I did not bewitch their brooms! she thought, close to panicking. Who could have – unless, of course, Malfoy just messed up… But, from the looks of it, no one was hurt – yet – and Lily decided that hexed brooms or not, the display was one of the funniest things she'd witnessed in a long time.

--

Severus Snape woke up at eight-thirty in the morning with the sensation of water falling on his face. Damn Malfoy and his infantile tricks again, he thought without opening his eyes. "Lucius, I will kill you," Snape grumbled, but there was no reply, and he realized, suddenly, that it couldn't be Lucius because he was at a Quidditch practice. Then who…Severus' eyes flew open – and he was immediately blinded by what had to be rain. Indoors. In the dungeons. A moment of confusion ensued, in which Severus flung himself from his bed, thinking that perhaps someone had charmed a showerhead into turning itself on above him. He hit the floor, climbed to his feet, and still – he was being rained on. Grumbling a series of curse words, Snape rummaged under Lucius' bed and quickly found a mirror (Malfoy's such a vain wanker, he thought). Severus held it out in front of him, and was more than slightly displeased to see that in his reflection, a tiny storm cloud had seemingly fixed itself a foot above his head. A storm cloud that was pouring rain.

"Potter, I will kill you."

Seconds later, several dungbombs blew up in rapid succession, and in the common room, Severus could hear the popping and whizzing of large fireworks.

"Oh, hell."

--

It was a quarter to nine when Sirius and Remus started their journey from the Gryffindor common room to the Great Hall. They'd already heard about what had happened to the Slytherin Quidditch team – and neither of them knew quite what to think.

"I didn't do it," Sirius said.

"And neither did I," Remus grumbled. "James, maybe?"

"Him, deface a Quidditch pitch? Moony, I don't even think Prongs would go that far."

"You're right – that is pretty odd…"

"But funny as hell!" Sirius barked, laughing loudly. "I only wish I'd been there to see it." He and Remus weren't far from the Great Hall when suddenly, something fluttered in the distance, down the corridor – heading straight toward them. Sirius tried to stifle a snicker – his prank on Remus was in process. The object came closer and closer until it became obvious that it was a book, its cover and pages acting like wings.

"Oh, no," Remus hissed, becoming very pale. The book flapped past him, and was soon followed by many more – a flock of dusty library books, fluttering through the hall, leaving a trail of pages behind. Other students watched the spectacle, pointing and laughing and shouting about the Marauders being back in business. Remus shot a glance to the boy beside him – Sirius was turning red, the result of holding in his laughter for far too long. "You did not!" Remus shouted, both annoyed and secretly amused.

Sirius waggled his eyebrows, guffawing as a whole new flock of fluttering books passed by, swarming like a cloud of gnats. "I did!"

Remus found himself laughing, tears of mirth streaming from his eyes. "Oh, Sirius, you idiot! Madam Pince is going to kill you!"

"I honestly thought you would!"

"I'll help her finish the job," the werewolf said with a smirk. As flying books continued to fill the hallways, Sirius and Remus soon found themselves at the threshold of the Great Hall, where complete pandemonium had erupted. "What the bugger –" But Remus said nothing more, and neither did Sirius – both boys were at a loss for words when they laid their eyes upon the utter chaos that had ensued.

The floor of the Great Hall – normally a beautiful, polished marble – had turned itself into a sprawling field of ankle-deep mud. Students gingerly stepped through the mess, cringing at the squelching sound it made beneath their feet, many of them throwing glares toward the two boys. "I didn't do it," Sirius said quickly, perplexed and howling with laughter at the same time.

"Neither did – oh, bloody hell! The pixies!" At precisely that moment, several dozen points of pale-blue light appeared in the Great Hall, and immediately the pixies began a vicious mud fight. Sirius and Remus, both shaking with laughter, waded through the thick, squishy mud toward the Gryffindor table, where members of their house were ducking every few seconds to avoid clods of dirt headed their way. Frank Longbottom had already been pasted numerous times, and yet there he was, laughing his arse off, no longer attempting to eat his breakfast.

Lily sat nearby, appearing to be very satisfied about something, and Remus decided he didn't want to ask – because James and Peter had just shown up, looking like they were close to fainting from laughing so much. "Okay," James wheezed, narrowly avoiding a ball of mud that had been thrown his way, "who the hell put the mud in here and let the pixies loose?"

Sirius paled considerably. "You mean – you didn't do the mud?"

"No!" James said, snickering uncontrollably. "And you didn't?"

"We did the pixies," Remus said. "And that's all."

All eyes at that end of the table turned toward Lily. "What?" she said, a mock expression of innocence on her face. "You think I'd do this?" A second later, a clump of mud hit her squarely in the back. The Marauders erupted into another volley of roaring laugher, and finally, Lily conceded. "Yes. I did the mud!"

"Congratulations, Evans!" Sirius bellowed. "Never knew you had it in you!"

"And you should be ashamed of setting all the pixies loose!" she said to Remus. "I thought you didn't do that kind of thing!"

"Think again!" Remus said, then froze when he glanced up to the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall, squinting through all the mud that was flying through the air. "Oh – oh, Merlin!" Above them all, the ceiling – which had originally shown a vast expanse of clear, blue sky – now portrayed a sickening array of rainbows and hearts and stars, with stylized unicorns prancing through it all. At the center of the colorful display were crudely conjured stick figures labeled Snivellus and Lucius, holding hands and skipping happily amongst the stars and rainbows.

James snorted with laughter, finally falling off the bench and landing in the squelchy mud with a liquidy splat. "Oh, it's perfect!" he gasped through uncontrollable giggles. "Wormtail, they look excellent!"

"You think so?" Peter said, narrowly dodging a ball of mud. "I think Snape's hair needs to look greasier."

"No need for that!" Sirius laughed. "You guys haven't seen him yet today!"

"Oh – oh, geez, Sirius – don't tell me you guys are pulling off a mountain of pranks today, too," James said, still lying on his back in the mud. His face was caked with the stuff – as was everyone else's – but he didn't seem to care one bit.

Remus grinned. "We are. You too?"

"Yeah," said Peter, "and there are many more to come."

"You guys are so childish!" Lily said, trying unsuccessfully to look upset. In reality, she was grinning broadly, ear-to-ear.

"You!" Sirius said. "You're the one who did the ice!" A moment later, a ball of mud hit him in the back of the head, and he shrieked. "Okay, which buggering pixie did that?"

"The blue-ish one," Peter said.

"Thank you, Wormtail."

--

Minerva McGonagall was livid. She made her way to the High Table in the Great Hall, wading through the mess on the floor and narrowly ducking and dodging clumps of mud that were flung her way. All havoc had broken loose, and she knew exactly who the perpetrators were. She took a seat at the table, preparing to pour herself a cup of tea, when the porcelain plate in front of her chirped, "My, my, Professor McGonagall – you're looking very nice today."

Next to her, Professor Slughorn sat down, and his teacup grumbled, "Better lay off the jelly-filled doughnuts today, Sluggy."

She heard Professor Binns' silverware murmur, "Quit taking preservatives and let yourself die already."

McGonagall turned back to her plate, a smug half-smile pulling at her lips, and she whispered, "Tell me more."

Perhaps the Marauders weren't so bad after all…

--

By the time the owls, laden with mail, streamed into the Great Hall, every inch of the room was covered in mud, and the pixies, tired of dirt, had decided to take to throwing food and silverware. The Filibuster's fireworks that had been set off in the Slytherin common room had found their way into the Great Hall, too, still spewing colorful sparks, and the library books had arrived, as well, flying like geese in V-shaped flocks.

Four owls, each carrying a bright red envelope, landed at the Gryffindor table, each envelope addressed to a Marauder. Remus groaned. "Oh, bugger – Lily, did you send us all Howlers?"

She smirked. An instant later, all four letters were screaming at each of the four boys, the magnified words overlapping and creating a horrible cacophony of sound. "JAMES POTTER! HOW DARE YOU, THE HEAD BOY, RUN AROUND THE SCHOOL NAKED UNDER THAT INVISIBILITY CLOAK! SIRIUS BLACK! HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK OF TURNING PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE'S DESK INTO A MOLDY URINAL? PETER PETTEGREW! NEVER LET ME CATCH YOU READING PORNOGRAPHIC MAGAZINES AGAIN! REMUS LUPIN! HOW COULD YOU, A PREFECT, LET YOURSELF TEAM UP WITH THESE HORRIBLE BOYS?" And the garishly loud shrieking of Lily's voice continued, until the envelopes ignited into small puffs of flame and everyone in the Great Hall was overwhelmed with laughter.

One last owl swooped in, was pasted with a lump of scrambled eggs, and headed, looking somewhat disoriented, straight for Sirius. He beamed and everyone cringed when they saw yet another red envelope. He opened it, and immediately ten thousand amps of sound erupted from the Howler – it was Muggle music– rock 'n roll music. "Accio motorbike!" Sirius shouted over the guitar riffs, and a minute later came the rumbling of a distant engine. The Steppenwolf number was in full blast ("WHY DON'T YOU COME WITH ME, LITTLE GIRL, ON A MAGIC CARPET RIDE!") when the motorcycle squealed into the Great Hall, its tires sending up splashes of mud. "Come on, Moony!" Sirius climbed onto the vehicle, revved its engine, and Remus scooted on behind him, grabbing the other boy's waist uncertainly. "Just hold on!" Sirius yelled. "You're not gonna die!" In the blink of an eye, the motorbike had sped away, spraying mud everywhere before taking off into the air, with Sirius' howling laughter audible over the resounding rock music.

James and Peter were beside themselves with laughter, both of them covered not only in mud, but bits of pancake and scrambled eggs, as well.

--

It was past nine-thirty when Albus Dumbledore climbed out of bed at last. Sunday mornings were made for sleeping in, he figured with a smile, and immediately started to brew a kettle of tea, its pleasant aroma filling his office. Though this morning was different – Dumbledore hadn't wanted to wake up, not after he'd heard rumors that Hogwarts would be laid to waste by a special day of hijinks, thanks to the Marauders' mastery of Entertainingly Annoying Magic. Not that Dumbledore didn't appreciate the boys' pranks: he, alone, enjoyed them very much, probably more than any other staff member at the school. But pranks on a Sunday? Pranks are supposed to disrupt classes, not leisure time. Dumbledore chuckled and poured himself a cup of tea, taking a moment to glance up at the portraits that decorated his wall.

Though something wasn't right, because Salazar Slytherin was hiding behind the green, velvet chair in his picture frame, his head – and bare shoulders – visible.

"Is something the matter, Salazar?" Dumbledore asked, his light-blue eyes twinkling.

"I'll tell you what's wrong, Albus!" the portrait hissed. "Those awful Gryffindor boys have cursed us all into being buck-naked for the day!"

"Have they, now?" Dumbledore's grin grew wider, and his gaze flashed to the other portraits hanging in his office. Sure enough, Helga Hufflepuff had wrapped a curtain around herself, Godric Gryffindor had left his portrait entirely (Dumbledore wasn't sure he wanted to know where the founder had gone), and Rowena Ravenclaw, still convinced she was as fair as she'd been when she was young, was lounging on the couch in her painting, very much nude. Dumbledore cringed. "Well, Salazar, it seems you are right – er, all the portraits, you say?"

"Yes, Headmaster – all of them. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin spared no one."

Dumbledore tried to avert his eyes from the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. "Yes – I see they have created quite some havoc, haven't they?" He smiled, took a sip of tea, and said pleasantly, "When I am done here, I'll see to it that they investigate this most recent and, ah, unfortunate series of events."

--

As if being followed by his own personal rain cloud wasn't enough, Severus Snape quickly discovered that the Marauders' work was far from being finished. He was glad that he'd avoided breakfast at the Great Hall – all the talk in the chaotic Hogwarts corridors had to do with a floor made of mud and pixies throwing food and forks, and flocks of books flying like birds… Potter and his gang were at it again. At ten-thirty, though, things went sour for Severus when he realized that when he walked, there was an unshakable sound of squelching mud – or worse – wherever he stepped. Obviously, it was another hex, and Snape figured that it would be easy to ignore. But after ten minutes of walking through the halls – where the pandemonium was so severe that fellow students didn't notice his personal rain cloud – Severus realized he could take the squishing sound no more. I am going to kill Potter and Black.

He was soaked, as the storm above his head would not let up, and the cloud followed him wherever he went, like a cartoon's speech bubble. The squelchy sound underfoot was making Snape go crazy.

Then, with a sudden pop, a garden gnome materialized out of thin air and sat itself on Severus' shoulder.

"What the bugger –" Snape thrashed his arm, then tried to push the potato-sized being off, but the gnome wouldn't budge. It, too, was getting soaked from the rain cloud, and it began to grunt and snort a series of complaints – sounds that were none too pleasing to the ear. Severus sighed miserably and grumpily and continued walking down the hall, a storm cloud above his head, a squishy noise beneath his feet, and a disgruntled lawn gnome planted on his shoulder. At this point, Snape wanted very much to inflict some sort of damage on somebody.

--

POV – Remus

Sirius' motorbike hurdled through the hallways of Hogwarts – sometimes flying, sometimes tearing along the marble floors and leaving behind tire marks that Argus Filch was sure to complain about. The whole time, the boy sitting in front of me howled with laughter, more than ecstatic about the havoc that was laying waste to the innards of the school. I held onto Sirius' hips tightly, not in the least wanting to be thrown from the motorcycle. The throngs of students and teachers who crowded the corridors whizzed by us in a blur, and from the looks of it – as a great deal of color had suddenly erupted from within the masses – Phase One of our hair prank had gone into effect.

"Moony, just look at all the pink and blue and green!" Sirius yelled gleefully over the din of general dissent and horror that was radiating from our fellow students. I imagined I wouldn't be so keen if I found I'd suddenly sprouted a bright pink afro, either. "Phase Two'll happen in an hour, if I remember correctly!"

"Forty-five minutes, actually," I shouted into his ear. "Won't they be pleased."

Sirius – who was actually quite a good driver and amazingly less reckless than I thought he might be – took a hard right and sent the motorcycle flying down a wide staircase, its tires only inches above the delicate marble steps. I was so disoriented that I had not the foggiest idea of where we were within Hogwarts, but it didn't really matter – we were both having the time of our lives. Careening down a noisy hallway, I didn't have to look twice to see that old Professor Slughorn – eager to hide from the messy chaos – couldn't pry open a classroom door. "Must be Prongs' work!" Sirius shouted over the engine's roar. "Damn good magic if Sluggy can't solve it!"

And so we tore along through the castle, until someone caught Sirius' eye and he brought his bike to a halt on the floor, its engine still emitting a low rumble.

It was Severus Snape, looking quite miserable and none too happy at all about his current situation. I was delighted to see that Sirius' rain cloud hex was performing perfectly, though why a lawn gnome had seemingly attached itself to Snape's shoulder – and why every time he stepped, his shoes produced a farting sound – were beyond me. James and Peter again, I thought with a smirk. Merlin, are they good. In front of me, Sirius was dying of laughter, and I was somewhat afraid he'd accidentally send his motorcycle into an overzealous reverse.

"Black!" Snape snarled, pointing our way, his soaking hair lank and plastered to his forehead, and the little cloud above him still pouring its perpetual gray rain. The gnome on his shoulder grumbled something about talking too loud, and then proceeded to kick Snape's arm. "Black, I will have you killed for this!"

"Who's your new – I mean – only friend, there, Snivelly?" Sirius asked with a chortle.

"BLACK!"

But the boy sitting in front of me didn't give Snape time to withdraw his wand; in an instant, Sirius had revved the motorcycle's engine and kicked off, sending us zooming down the hall in the opposite direction. The passages were even more congested now, making navigation somewhat tricky; in all of the craziness, it seemed, people had only just realized that the portraits hanging on the walls were stark naked. Crowds had formed around them, pointing and laughing; poor Sir Cadogan was forced to carry his sword in a strategically-placed manner.

Rogue Filibuster's fireworks still rocketed their way through the halls, bouncing off granite columns and slate flagstones and causing a loud, echoing ruckus, second only to the Howlers that had been opened earlier that morning. By now, I'd grown accustomed to the wild motorcycle ride, and feeling less nervous, I let my chin rest on Sirius' shoulder – something he seemed to appreciate very much. "Shall we go outside?" I asked, still having to shout over the din of the engine. "It's a beautiful day."

"Good call, Remus," Sirius said, and brought the motorbike galloping down another flight of stairs – something that proved to be very bumpy and jarring. "Sorry about that," he said, as the vehicle squealed across the floor, heading toward the great oak doors that would take us outside. It looked as if Sirius had no intention of slowing down, and as we flew faster and faster toward the shut doors, their ornate surfaces rushing nearer and nearer, I realized we weren't going to stop. Just in time, I shouted some sort of incantation and as they crashed open, we shot through like a bullet, immediately immersed in the sunlight.

The air was cold and biting, and certainly flying through it at a breakneck speed wasn't helping at all. I ducked behind Sirius to try and avoid the chill, but after he put a bit of distance between us and the school, he gradually brought his bike to a halt, then dismounted. "Will you look at that, Remus – it's absolutely beautiful." Sirius was turned toward the castle, his arms crossed over his chest (either in an act of defiance or in an attempt to keep warm), a broad smile stretching across his face. "Hogwarts'll never see another day like this again."

My heart still pounding wildly in my chest, I slid off the motorcycle and joined Sirius, snaking an arm around his waist to pull him closer. What he said was true: the scene before us was quite the sight to behold. The bewitched library books, being chased closely by sparking fireworks, zipped in and out of windows and doors. Some circled the school, trailed by points of electric blue that had to be pixies, and also by the occasional owl that wanted to get in on the fun. Meanwhile, hundreds of students had emptied the castle, running with laughter through the grounds, their hair fashioned in eclectic styles and colors. And even when, a few minutes later, mushrooms and horns and feathers had sprung from their heads, no one seemed to be angry – they were too busy pointing at one another and snickering their arses off.

"This is amazing," I said. "Absolutely – buggering – amazing."

"You know, it wouldn't be as amazing as it is if Lily and James and Peter hadn't played some pranks of their own, too," Sirius murmured thoughtfully. "Amazing that it all had to fall on the same day – well, at least we know we'll all receive our detentions at the same time."

I blinked – the thought of punishment hadn't even occurred to me, which was something I found extremely strange. Even stranger was the fact I couldn't have cared less. "Oh, well – it's our last year, you know," I said, and for some reason, this statement seemed to take Sirius by surprise. "Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, huh? Start it off with some flying colors."

"Oh, yes – for sure," Sirius agreed with a smile, then kissed me. "And something tells me there's still more to come, too – why don't we take a little tour of the grounds, shall we, and see what Lily did to the Quidditch pitch – I hear it's superb."

--

POV -- Third Person

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall strode side-by-side down the crammed Hogwarts halls, surveying the damage and the pranks that were in the process of being executed. It was a Sunday morning like none other they'd seen: the student body, instead of lazing around in their common rooms and dormitories all day, were out and about, tearing through the corridors with their new, temporary hairstyles, throwing mud and directing harmless spells at one another and seemingly having a ball of a time. Dumbledore was surprised to find that McGonagall didn't seem too perturbed by the whole fiasco; in fact, he could swear that there was a smile pulling at her pursed lips.

"Good at magic, those four are," Dumbledore said with a hearty chuckle. "And creative, too."

"Argus will have nightmares for years to come," McGonagall said, though the idea didn't seem to bother her. "Speaking of which – I haven't seen him all morning."

"He might have barricaded himself in his office, I imagine," Dumbledore suggested. "If so – smart plan."

McGonagall ducked as a flying tome sailed over her head. "Although I can't say I'm too happy about what they've done to all the library books."

Dumbledore smiled. "Just imagine how Madam Pince feels, Minerva! Of course, it's nothing a little spell or two can't put to rest –"

"So why don't you –?"

She was met by another pleasant smile. "Oh, I thought we might just like to enjoy the day a little more. It's harmless, really. A grand scourgify should clean up the Great Hall quite nicely, I think."

McGonagall rolled her eyes behind her rectangular-framed glasses. "Mud, honestly. Who in their right mind would think up such a ghastly prank?"

At that moment, Lily Evans (who had sprouted a pair of bat wings from her red hair) dashed past the two professors, followed closely by James Potter and, at a further distance, Peter Pettegrew. Dumbledore let them go, and murmured thoughtfully, "There go two of our perpetrators – although I'd say our Head Girl looks like she's enjoying this affair a bit too much."

McGonagall gaped. "Evans, playing pranks? Albus, you're off your rocker."

He grinned and ignored her complaint. "Now I just wonder where the other two boys are."

"Tearing around on that awful motorcycle, I imagine," she said. "Or doing something else we're not supposed to know about."

Dumbledore shot an amused glance her way, but said nothing as they continued to stroll down the lively hallway.

--

POV – James

"Bat wings?" Lily shouted. She patted the top of her head, and sure enough, there they were, fluttering relentlessly as if they were trying to make her lift off the ground. "James, I'm going to kill you!"

I was too busy laughing like a madman to take her threat seriously. "Oh, Lily, you should see them! They're perfect! And I swear to Merlin that it wasn't me!"

She flicked her green eyes to Peter, but he waved his hands frantically, trying to show his innocence. "Wasn't me, either!" he squeaked, not wanting to face Lily's wrath. Peter, too, was having a hard time keeping a straight face. "You know I could never make bat wings look so realistically hairy!"

At this, Lily shrieked, and tore off down the hall – though I could tell she, too, was laughing. I turned to Peter. "Padfoot and Moony, I'll bet."

"Oh, for sure," Peter agreed with a snicker. "Sirius and his hair pranks."

"You know who we haven't seen? Snivelly. And Sirius said he'd played a prank on him, too." I pulled out the Marauders Map and as the ink magically spread over the parchment's worn surface, I looked for the dot that represented Snape. "Oh, that's interesting, Wormtail – Snivellus is lurking around near the library. There must be something foul afoot in the Slytherin common room."

"Yeah, because the rest of the gnomes don't come in until later –"

"I have a feeling that those Filibuster's fireworks were set off in the Slytherin dungeons," I said with a smirk. "Good ol' Sirius. Let's go have a look for Snape, shall we?" As we raced through the chaotic hallways, where groups of students were gawking at the nude portraits (a rather sick joke, I thought, although Sirius had always wanted to pull that prank off), I realized it was a wonder that none of us had been caught yet. Lily and Peter and I had already ran past McGonagall and Dumbledore, and neither of them had given us a second glance. I had a feeling they were secretly delighted with the situation. Meanwhile, it had to be past noon, and no bell signaling the start of lunch had rung – I doubted that it would if the Great Hall was still in the muddy state we'd left it in. No matter, though – overcome with joy and excitement, I really wasn't all that hungry. Seeing the naked portraits of all the famous, old witches and wizards hadn't helped, either.

We continued on down a staircase, unsurprised to find that the marble steps were slippery and streaked with mud tracked everywhere from breakfast. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was the solitary form of Snape, glaring black daggers at Peter and me. I skidded to a halt, having to grab the oak banister to avoid stumbling off the steps; a few stairs up, Peter, wheezing and huffing, nearly collided with me.

Snape was cross and looking extremely livid, but I couldn't help myself from laughing: the miniature storm cloud that floated above his head, showering his hair with rain, was absolutely brilliant. Padfoot, I thought, you are a buggering genius. I was pleased to find that the gnome was still on Snape's shoulder, looking more disgruntled than ever, and it had somehow conjured a yellow, doll-sized umbrella to hold over its lumpy head.

"I suppose you think this is outrageously funny," Snape said coolly, his face dripping with rainwater.

There was no denying that, but I wasn't about to piss him off any more than need be. "At least you don't have bright-green dreadlocks and horns like the rest of the Slytherin house does," I said.

"Oh, yes," Snape drawled sarcastically, "that is indeed an added bonus."

"The rain cloud is Sirius'," Peter said from beside me. "Serves you right for what you did to him and Remus, you lousy git!"

Snape, obviously not amused, frowned and said dryly, "I thought that's what the gnome and the childish sound effects were for. Potter, it's a wonder how you four can be so oblivious to one another, enough to all plan stupid jokes on the same morning without even know –" Snape froze, mid-sentence, when he realized that an oversized Blast-Ended Skrewt was bearing down on him. With a strangled cry, he ran, rain cloud, squishy noise, gnome, and all.

As the monster and Snape disappeared around the corner, Peter gawked. "Where the bloody hell did that come from?"

I had trouble not falling down the stairs with laughter. "Remember – remember a few nights ago, when I transfigured a platter on the Slytherin table into a Skrewt?" I let myself breathe; with all the snickering going on, I was starting to feel light-headed. "That – that must be the same one, Wormtail!"

"Must have escaped from Hagrid's hut," Peter said. "Well, great – now we've got an unpleasant creature scuttling around the school!"

"It'll give Snivelly good company," I said, finally steadying myself, tears of mirth streaking my face. "Let's go find Lily. I'll bet she's outside."

"Hopefully, with those wings, she hasn't flown away."

--

POV – Sirius

Our tour about the school grounds proved to be more than worthwhile: the Quidditch field had been extraordinary, especially since Lily had made it so the ice wouldn't melt. We had passed by Malfoy – and he looked none too happy at all with his lime-green dreadlocks. Even the Centaurs, reclusive and mysterious denizens of the Forbidden Forest, had emerged into the sunlight, to see what all the fuss was about. ("Our pranks are so huge, they've probably knocked the planets off course!" Remus had said.)

We took one last loop of the school, skirting past the lake (the Giant Squid had been transfigured into a dog-paddling sasquatch, but I had no idea who was responsible for that one) and the Whomping Willow. "Ah, good memories, eh, Moony?" I asked as the now-calm tree came into sight.

"For you, maybe," Remus said from behind me. "I never can remember all that much. Maybe that's a good thing, too – after next week's full moon, James'll probably be telling me that a certain black dog was trying to shag –"

"What!" I laughed nervously. "No way, Moony. I'd never –"

"I can tell you're smiling!"

I hesitated, and it sounded like the other boy wasn't all that upset by the idea. In fact, he almost seemed fond of it. "It would be convenient, wouldn't it?"

"Mmm. Very convenient." Behind me, Remus chuckled, then, "Bloody hell, what've they done to the tree?"

I stared at the branches of the Whomping Willow, laden with tinsel and glass orbs and garlands that sparkled in the sunlight. "It's decked out for Christmas! And a month-and-a-half early, I might add."

Remus gawked. "Too girly. That's Lily's work."

"The poor tree…" I grumbled, and we sped off again, heading for the school. "It's two o'clock, Moony – suppose we should go in, huh? Accept our fate?"

"I suppose so."

I brought the motorcycle sailing through the sky, landed it several feet from the great oak doors of the castle, and climbed off. "I hope you enjoyed the ride, Remus."

"Oh, believe me, I did," he said as he slid off the leather seat. "It was very fun."

I walked over to the bike, running a hand over its chrome handlebars, and murmured, "Go home." An instant later, it launched itself into the clear, blue sky, the rumble of its engine gradually fading away.

Remus had his arms crossed over his chest. "And just where might 'home' be? Certainly not Grimmauld Place –"

"Bugger, no!" I said with a laugh. "Can you imagine my mum's ugly face if that thing turned up at her door? No – no, its home is in Hogsmeade – they've got storage sheds, you know."

"No, I didn't –"

I put an arm around Remus' shoulders as we walked through the still-ajar doors of the castle. "You do now – look, everything's just as we've left it." Students were running amok in the halls, robes still dirty with mud, hair still fashioned in outlandish styles and colors. The books, it seemed, had finally been herded back into the library – on Madam Pince's orders, I imagined. But the fireworks were still spitting out sparks as they whizzed through the corridors, and the pixies were still causing trouble.

"Oh, Sirius – all the portraits! It's awful."

"It's funny as hell!" I said with a laugh. "Embarrassing for them, I'm sure. But come on – the Gryffindor common room should be okay. Unless James did something incredibly stupid, it's one of the few safe havens left in the school."

Of course, there was the problem of the Fat Lady, and she made that clear right away when we finally reached her. "You awful boys!" she shouted, trying unsuccessfully to hide her large chest behind a fan. "You horrible, awful, disgusting boys!"

I tried to keep a straight face – and it wasn't working. "Er – well, might I ask, uh – why haven't you left if, you know –"

"Because people need letting in, of course!" the Fat Lady declared madly. "To escape from this utter chaos you've set loose!"

"Oh," I said simply.

"But don't think I'll be letting you two in!" She huffed madly and glared at us.

Remus stepped forward. "Say we strike a deal with you?" he asked somewhat hesitantly.

"I'm listening," she said, still looking as livid and embarrassed as ever.

"Sirius – obviously – came up with this spell. Say he – gives you an advantage? You know, over all the other portraits? The only clothed one, perhaps?" Remus shot a glance my way, and I nodded viciously. "See? He'll do it – and you, fully clothed, can laugh your arse off at all the other portraits and everyone else in the school."

The Fat Lady considered it, then said, "Oh, all right, then – but I still won't forgive you!"

"But you'll let us in, of course?" Remus asked.

She smiled pleasantly. "Yes."

It hadn't taken nearly the amount of haggling I'd expected it to, and in no time, the Fat Lady had her frilly, pink dress back, and Remus and I were climbing through the portrait hole and into the common room. There were several other Gryffindors inside, and I couldn't believe that a group of first- and second-years were actually working on their assignments. "What's wrong with you guys?" I asked as we plodded through the room. "Doing schoolwork when you could see Severus Snape's own personal rain cloud? You're all mental."

Unsurprisingly, Lily was there, too. "Some of us have actually remembered we've got classes tomorrow." From the looks of it, she had finally managed to rid herself of the batwing hex, which was really too bad, because I hadn't gotten the chance to see it. Lily dropped her voice, though, and added slyly, "The school's a mess, isn't it? It's wonderful."

"Hearing you say that brings a tear to my eye, Evans," I murmured. "Did you like the bat wings?"

"Not really," she drawled. "Did you like the Whomping Willow?"

"I felt sorry for it," Remus said. "Surely you'll make that horrible Christmas stuff disappear so no one has to pick it all off by hand."

"Don't worry," she said. "Have either of you seen James and Peter lately?"

I shook my head. "Not since – since breakfast? I don't know, it's been a long day. They're probably searching for you." We started off in the direction of the stairs leading up to the dormitories.

"And where are you going?"

"None of your business," I smirked, and stuck out my tongue.

To be continued...
A/N: Really hope you liked this chapter (I had so much fun writing it). And I'll apologize again for its length! It wasn't until a few days after I wrote the motorcycle part did I realize I was getting flashes of Final Fantasy VII through my head -- and if you don't know what I'm talking about, all the better... Anyway, keep tuned for the final chapter (I'll probably post it on Sunday or Monday). Thanks for reading, and please do leave a review!

- mo