Mischief Managed Chapter 8, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer:Any ideas, characters or settings related to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling, and I will not even attempt to take credit for them. However, the plot is mine!

A/N: Thank you to EVERYONE who reviewed, it feels so wonderful to have people out there who appreciate what I do :-) and on that note, yes I realize the last few chapters have been a bit L/J. This is because it IS an L/J fic, in addition to a marauders fic. Also, Lily is one of my favourite characters and yes, I like to write about her. But that's beside the point… don't lose faith! Believe me, I haven't forgotten the Marauders, and everything happens for a reason… Happy reading! Finally I would like to apologise for this taking so long, but the system was screwing around and it wouldn't let me update! Please review, even just because it's impolite not to! xx - Lexie

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Chapter Eight: In which the Slytherins turn geriatric

"I just don't get it," James complained, running his fingers through his already unruly hair, as James was want to do when he was anxious. "I don't get her."

"Lily's just starting to come around, that's all," Remus said calmly, reclining against the cold stone wall and looking as though he'd much rather be elsewhere.

"But where does she get off, kissing me like that?"

"What, on the cheek?" Peter reminded him helpfully.

James scowled. "Details, Wormtail! She's so frustrating-"

"-ly beautiful. We know, Prongs. How about you come and help me, and let us know when something actually changes," Sirius said, rather brutally.

James sighed, defeated. He knew the boys were right, and as much as he was reluctant to sound like a broken record, sometimes a guy just has to vent! Obediently, he moved forward and took the funnel from Sirius' hands, leaving his friend free to fish out a rather small vial from his robes. Peter stared at it apprehensively.

"Are you sure that's going to be enough, Padfoot?" he asked doubtfully.

Sirius swept his black fringe from his eyes somberly.

"Wormtail, have I ever failed you before?"

"And you're sure there won't be any side effects?" Remus asked patiently from behind them.

"Are we going to do this or not?" Sirius growled rhetorically, before uncapping the vial and tipping the contents down the funnel.

James watched the opalescent liquid drain into the long, fat, slightly moldy pipe that ran along the passage wall, unable to stop himself from smiling. If this worked… oh, he could not wait to see everyone's faces. Just not Lily's. Maybe he could avoid Lily tomorrow. Because inevitably, Lily would quite correctly deduce exactly who was responsible for the entire Slytherin house suddenly and miraculously aging beyond their years. She wouldn't care that no one had ever thought of this prank before. She would not stop to consider the masterful skill with which the Marauders had gone to the trouble of spiking the water pipes with the Aging potion. James readjusted his glasses apprehensively, wondering for the first time whether this prank was really worth it. And this troubled him more considerably than anything else. For it seemed apparent that at the age of sixteen and seven months, James Potter had finally developed a conscience.

"Emmeline Vance requesting entry!" the Carved Witch's voice sung into the Head's tower, starting Lily, who had been dozing on one of the lounges.

"Oh sure, let her in," Lily mumbled, sitting up and running her fingers through her tousled hair.

Emmeline appeared at the end of the hallway, and there was no two ways about it: she looked devastated.

"Benjy Fenwick just asked Marlene out!"

"Oh," Lily murmured, then patted the spot beside her, inwardly sighing. Lily didn't have a lot of patience for adolescent hormones: her relationships may not have been terribly exciting and dramatic, but at least they had been stable.

"But doesn't Marlene like Sirius?" she asked by rote.

"That's what we all thought!" Emmeline sighed deeply. "She came up and asked me if I was OK with it. What was I supposed to say?"

"Well why don't you just… start liking Sirius now?" Lily thought this proposition seemed quite reasonable. Emmeline, however, looked repulsed.

"Black?!" she shrieked. "He's my Quidditch captain, Lily, he's a bit of an idiot plus he's never really been interested in dating, to boot."

Lily rolled her eyes, already bored. "Well I just figure at least you know him, Em. And you two get along."

Emmeline 'harrumphed' from beside her, before shaking her head in pity. "Things are never as simple as you'd like them to be, Lily Evans."

"I can't wait to see Snivelly all wrinkly," Sirius grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief and anticipation as he eyed the plate of bacon James was currently serving himself from. Remus bit his lip, mildly concerned at the malicious glint in Sirius' eye. But then again, Sirius always had had a malicious glint when it came to Snape, or Slytherins in general. Remus supposed he could put it down to Sirius' family. Nevertheless, Remus was not entirely sure that Snape didn't deserve Sirius' malice, at least occasionally. Besides, the prank, at least this once, seemed to be harmless enough.

Remus shot a look in his friends' direction, and caught Peter and James exchanging a subtle look of similar anticipation before resuming their guise of innocence. These two were willing to ignore that dangerous look in Sirius' eyes… why couldn't he?

It was morning, and breakfast time, and the Marauders were waiting to see their masterwork unveiled.

At that moment, the door burst open and the Slytherins trooped in, a steady flow of elderly witches and wizards, with particularly unpleasant wrinkled faces and sallow, mottled skin. Instead of moving toward their house table, they all lined up before the Teacher's table. The Great Hall was strangely hushed as Professor Dumbledore stood up and moved forward to inspect his elderly students, prodding his wand at various wrinkles, white or balding patches of hair, and in one sad case, what appeared to be a terrible case of arthritis.

"It seems to me," Dumbledore announced quietly, "that these students have been subjected to a particularly fascinating phenomenon – I assume you all showered this morning or last night? Yes? And the age just washed away, so to speak, is that correct?"

Suddenly the doors of the Great Hall burst open once more to admit a straggler… A particular straggler whose sight both horrified and amused everyone.

The Marauders took one look at each other before dissolving into howls of laughter. Sirius was laughing so hard that he slipped off his seat and began to roll around on the stone floor.

Severus Snape, looking quite normal, flashed them a confused look before heading nonchalantly toward his empty House table and commencing breakfast.

"That was brilliant!" Sirius gasped.

Peter wringed his hands in agreement, his eyes watering with tears of mirth.

"I always thought he looked unclean," Remus murmured, his mild expression causing Sirius to break off into fresh peels of laughter.

This was rudely interrupted when seventh year Slytherin Quidditch Keeper Jonas Bulstrode caught sight of Snape.

"YOU!" he roared, before hobbling off toward Snape, who was rudely levitated by the collar of his school shirt by Bulstrode's wand. "Professor, he knew not to shower!"

Someone snorted from amongst the Slytherins gathered at the front of the Hall. "He never showers," someone else's strained, fragile voice quipped.

"Did you do this, Severus?" Dumbledore asked Snape sadly.

Snape shook his head vehemently. "No, I didn't, Professor, Sir," he said greasily. "But I know who did-"

Dumbledore held up his hand to silence the only youthful Slytherin. "So do I, I think," he said quietly. "But there is no need to fling mud, Severus. Then you might need to have a shower."

"Did you find the culprits, Professor?" Lily asked as she and James entered Professor Dumbledore's study.

Dumbledore closed the door, and gave James a piercing look before sweeping around his desk to take a seat, gesturing that they should do the same.

"No, I haven't, Lily," Dumbledore said quietly. "At this moment I am tending to believe the culprit was an accidental leak between the drains in Professor Slughorn's classroom and the pipes for the Slytherin showers."

James suddenly looked away, ashamed. There was no such leak, and at least two of the people seated at the desk knew this very well.

Lily simply frowned and nodded, and James found it impossible to know how she felt on the matter.

"The matter will be resolved shortly," Dumbledore reassured her. "Professor Slughorn is brewing the antidote as we speak. And if that is all, shall we proceed to..?"

James purposely loitered after the meeting, telling Lily he would meet her in the Head's Tower after he visited the Owlery. Once he was sure she had gone, he doubled back and gave the password once again to the gargoyle outside the Headmaster's office.

He found the door was already open, and that Dumbledore was seated on one of the lumpy purple lounges that ran under his window. Dumbledore saw James hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

"I thought you might be back," he greeted him pleasantly. "Take a seat, James."

James walked rather nervously across the room to take a seat beside his Headmaster.

"Sir," he began slowly. "We both know quite well that the drains aren't leaking. It was-"

For the second time that day, Dumbledore held up his hand to silence words he obviously did not want to hear.

"James, I do not want to hear what you wish to tell me. Be comforted that I already know exactly what happened, but any confession on your behalf, or from you on another student's behalf, must result in a punishment that I'm sure I don't want to give. But thank you. I'm glad that you're finally learning some responsibility."

James was very prepared to become indignant at this last remark, but his mouth had once again closed by the time he realized that Dumbledore was right: James, or in fact any of the Marauders, had never once owned up to a prank. He looked at Dumbledore sheepishly, and found that the Headmaster's eyes were twinkling.

"James, do you want to know why I gave you the position of Head Boy?"

"Oh, I'm sure we should call Lily back for this one too, she'd like to know more than I do," James responded dryly, without thinking. Realizing what he had just said, he quickly added, "Sorry Sir."

Dumbledore laughed. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. In all probability, Miss Evans deserves to hear an explanation too. Perhaps you will tell her one day? Anyhow… James, I look at you and see the potential of a truly great wizard. You have the courage, and the talent, and even the leadership to go far. In fact, there is nothing, ability wise, that you lack… except the ability to take responsibility for your actions. I know that you and Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin and Mr. Pettigrew all share the best intentions in the world, James. But I was correct in assuming that Head Boy would teach you a valuable lesson, was I not?"

James nodded, smiling. "I suppose that I have, sir. Thank you, I think."

"It takes a truly great wizard to accept the consequences of his decisions, James. I will not hesitate to tell you how proud I am of you."

"Thank you, Professor," James reiterated, standing to leave.

"Good night, James," Dumbledore told him kindly. "Oh, and James?"

The Head Boy paused in the doorway and looked back at his Headmaster. "Sir?"

"Don't think that I haven't noticed your pranks are more clever than harmful this year, James. Please don't tell your friends that, I fear it may… inspire them."

Chuckling, James once again bade Dumbledore good night and left, turning thoughts over in his head as he made the trek back to the Tower. Perhaps Dumbledore was right, and that he had changed. But this was a good change, James decided. Nothing wrong with growing up.

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A/N: Hey guys: well, James is growing up - hands up who's proud of him?

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