James Potter picked up his transfiguration textbook and threw it as hard as he could at the suit of armour which was once again singing, "We Three Squibs," in what was supposed to be a festive gesture.
"Good one James, at least the metal man can sing better than Sirius here." Remus gestured at his other friend, who's voice was now clearly audible now that the armour had been silenced. James sat back down round the table in the common room looking agitated.
"We still haven't decided where to hold our Christmas Party this year," he said to the occupants of the chairs around him.
"Sorry mate, didn't catch that!" Shouted a boy from near the fire, his voice competing with Sirius's shrill rendition of, "God rest ye, merry hippogriffs," a personal favourite of his.
"I SAID..." James yelled, and realising he could equal himself to Sirius's level of nose, flicked his wand and Sirius flew out of site.
"My buttocks did not deserve that James," Sirius said gravely, emerging from being the sofa and massaging his backside.
"I said we still haven't decided on where to hold out Christmas Party, Octavius," James said calmly to the boy near the sofa, ignoring the fact that Sirius was now asking every girl in the vicinity to kiss his buttocks better, many of which obliged.
"How 'bout Peters? He lives in the middle of nowhere don't he? Could make a racket and no one would hear us!" Octavius suggested excitedly.
"Peter will be lucky to do anything this Christmas, " Remus said darkly.
"He's currently suffering a large bout of Spattergoit." Remus was secretely pleased that Peter would therefore not be attending the party. His dancing left all to be desired and was nothing short of embarassing.
"We could go to yours, James," Sirius had returned with a large grin on his handsome features and sat down in the chair next to James.
"And endure a whole evening of, "Oh James dear, do be careful, mummy doesn't want her little baby-boo getting too drunk!" he replied mockingly.
"Oh yes, I forgot, mummy likes to look after her little Jimmy-Jams," Sirius chuckled earning himself a punch in the stomach.
"Remus, what about your place?" Lily Evans asked from behind a muggle book called, "Wuthering Heights." Remus looked slightly uncomfortable but James understood.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible." James chuckled. "He has a little furry problem that might cause an accident." Remus looked at James with an expression of fear and shock. James however knew that only Remus, Sirius and himself really understood this comment to mean Remus's transformations into a werewolf, and was shocked when Octavius replied,
"I completely understand, mate." Remus looked stunned.
"You...you do?"
"Yes." He nodded gravely. "I, myself own a particularly vicious pet. Chub-Chub, my rabbit, would bite anything given half the chance." He looked around the others sadly. "She's the reason no one can come to mine anymore. I feel your pain Remus. Evil pets...awful...just awful..." He trailed off, his eyes watering. James caught Remus's eye and looked away quickly for fear of laughing. Fighting to keep a straight face he said,
"Any suggestions, Sirius?"
"Kill the rabbit, " Sirius replied confidently. "There's enough evil in this
world without killer rabbits."
"I meant the party, you dolt!" James replied exasperatedly pinching his friend on the arm.
"Oh, right...sorry." He said hastily rubbing his arm. "Well, not mine. You know what my mum is like."
Several people around the table raised their eyebrows as if to say, "We all have mothers, how bad can yours be?" Sirius clearly picked up on this because a second later he was on his feet demonstrating just how awful his mother was.
"EVIL MUGGLES, HALF-BREEDS, MUDBLOODS AND SCUM!" He pointed to several people around. He said this, an ugly look on his face.
"LEAVE MY HOUSE OF FACE MY WRATH!" He screamed and brandished his wand in their faces.
"Stick to what your good at Sirius and that definately isn't acting." A third year boy laughed from behind the sofa. Sirius looked thoughtful for a
second.
"You know, that isn't actually a bad idea..." He said slowely. "I think I'm a better singer!" And before James could stop him he began badly rehearsed version of, "Pumpkins Roasting on an Open Fire."
The occupants of the surrounding chairs decided at that moment that it was their cue to leave and all fought to climb out of the portrait hole at once.
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