Gasp! The last chapter with 1971 in it! The next one will be 1973, probably

Disclaimer: I never claimed to own HP...because I don't

CHAPTER Fuh-OAR

Dewey Potter's Cleaning Techniques

1971

"United we stand, divided we fall

Together we are what we cannot be alone."

-Boys on Docks, Dropkick Murphy's

Two days after Mrs. Potter had grounded her daughter, she let her out of her room. Of course, she never found out that Dewey had sneaked out of her room to meet Sirius, and she hopefully never would.

Young Remus Lupin had arrived the day before (such a sweet boy...) and Dorea decided that Dewey had spent enough time locked in her room, and went to tell her to come to breakfast.

"Dewey," She called through the door, "I'm going to let you come down for breakfast, but after that you're still grounded!"

She opened the door, and the little girl flew past her and said, "Thanks mum, I won't blow up another mattress, I promise!"

Dewey ran down the stairs in her pajamas, "Yeah, right," She said to herself, "Not blowing up mattresses? Pshht, what else are you s'posed to do with 'em?"

When she entered the kitchen, she saw James, Sirius, and one other kid eating eggs and bacon. She opened her mouth and shouted, "I'M FREEEE! Temporarily."

James jumped noticeably and knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice. He held a hand to his heart and sun around in his seat, "Godric, Dewey! Don't scare me like that!"

She shrugged and walked over to the table, sitting next to James' friend, and across from Sirius and James.

"G'morning James, Sirius, other kid I don't know," She nodded at each of them.

The other kid smiled tentatively at her, "My name is Remus."

"I'm Dewey," She grinned, before burning a piece of bacon and popping it into her mouth. "The BAMFin twin. James is the wimpy mama's boy."

"Am not!" James protested.

Dewey tilted her head, "You're right. You aren't completely wimpy, but you are a mama's boy."

Sirius snickered into is plate quietly, and James whacked him upside the head so hard that Sirius' face smashed into his plate and when he pulled his head up he was covered in eggs. "Aren't you grounded Dewey? It's only been two days, and mum said each mattress you blew up was worth a day in your room."

"It's possible."

Dewey ate her meal deliberately slowly, hoping to spend as much time outside of her room as she could. James glanced at her shrewdly, "If you didn't know Remus' name how'd you know Sirius'?"

"We were assigned to work together on a secret mission the ministry gave us last August," Dewey said this as though it couldn't have been more obvious, "Duh."

James goggled at her, "I thought you were joking about being a secret auror!"

"James," Sirius said sternly, "Being a secret auror isn't something to joke about."

Dewey beamed at Sirius, who blushed slightly and shoveled more food into his mouth. Remus noticed and smirked at Sirius from across of him, who kicked his shin under the table.

When Dewey did have to go back into her room, she sunk back into a deep bout of boredom. About an hour later there was a knock on her window.

Dewey opened her window to find a her best friend on a branch right outside the house.

"Doon?" She gasped with a grin, surprised to find the handsome sixteen year old sitting on a tree branch outside her window. "What are you- how...can you teach me to fly that thing?"

Doon chuckled. Dewey Potter was quite an interesting person. You see, no one particularly liked fire elementals, and that's what he and Dewey were. As the only fire elementals in the school, they had formed an alliance. Dewey had quickly become the most interesting eleven (now twelve) year old he had ever met, and he had decided to take her under his wing.

By that he meant that he had taught her to pick locks, pick pockets, eavesdrop, follow people (not stalk them, Doon claimed), and now he was going to teach her something greater than all of those put together. What that was, he wasn't quite sure. But it would come to him. It always did.

When Dewey had gone to AIE, the other students had been anything but welcoming. But Dewey was never one to be discouraged, and she soon found a friend in Doon, who was the only other fire elemental in the school at the time.

"I'm here to rescue you," Doon grinned, "From your eternal damnation."

"Thank the fire lord!" She half-shouted, before climbing out her window and following him down the street and creating a (quite illegal) portkey onto the street right out of the Leaky Cauldron, landing in a puddle.

"Whew," Doon shook his head like a dog, his eyes wild, "Who needs drugs when you can get a rush like that from a portkey?" He paused, then laughed again. Dewey shook her head. Doon had always told her breaking actual laws was much more of a rush than breaking school rules, and she couldn't help but agree.

Just as they were about to enter the pub, Doon noticed a particularly nice looking motorcycle parked next to the curb. When he got closer to it, it became apparent that it was a wizards motorbike.

"Young Dewey," He said, placing a hand on her head, mussing up her hair even more, "It's time I teach you how to steal something large. Like this." He let his fingers run over the seat and handle, and he swung his leg over the bike.

Pulling the lighter out of his pocket, he captured the flame in his palm and sent it into the ignition. He let his other hand hover over it and, in a few seconds, the bike rumbled to life.

At Dewey's astonished look, he winked, "Anything is possible with a little fire, and a little magic. Now hop on, Dewster."

Dewey hesitated, her mind was screaming 'No! This is stealing! Grand theft auto!' She was about to say that they should find something else to do, when she realized that the voice screaming 'No!' at her was her mother's voice.

So, Dewey did what any other rebelling pre-teen would have done. She got on. At 5'7", she was exceptionally tall for a twelve year old, and was able to swing her leg over and straddle the bike with ease. Besides, did a motorcycle even count as grand theft auto? She means, they're not that grand...

Later on, Doon dropped her off at her window and her mum entered the room.

"What was that?" Dorea said, referring to the rumbling noise outside, and eying her daughter (who was laying on her bed, eyes closed)

"I think it was just thunder," Dewey said innocently.

Unfortunately for Dewey, her mother noticed the muddy footprints leading from the windowsill and into the room.

And she was so close to getting away with it

1976

"I can't believe you have detention in the first week of school," Remus scolded his friends. "Was it necessary for the two of you to skip classes on the first day?"

"I can't believe you didn't tell me there would be a fight," James whined. "How would you feel if I didn't tell you, and you missed a chick fight?"

"It was only history of magic," Sirius rolled his eyes, "it's not like I need that for whatever job I would get, if I even get a job." He leaned forwards towards his friends, "I'm planning on living off the money my Uncle Alphard left me. It's enough for decades!"

Dewey spoke up too, "I'm just going to wing it when I leave Hogwarts." She stretched her arms casually above her head, "I'm only taking four classes, so I don't really qualify for any job."

Remus looked scandalized. "Four classes?"

"Yeah," Dewey frowned. "You have to take at least four, so I'm taking Defense, Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and History of Magic. 'Course, I can just ditch Binns class, so it's more like three courses."

"You are going no where in life," Sirius told her. She pulled a face at him.

"I'll just mooch off James," She claimed.

"Er, no," James said, looking up and pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'll be living with my wife, Lily, and our three kids, Lillian, Lilith, and Lily junior."

"You've actually thought this out?" Peter said, raising his eyebrows. "That's so creepy."

"You're a terrible twin," Dewey glared at him, "Now I'm going to be forced to mooch off Mr. Inheritance over there." The shoved Sirius, who flailed his arms before falling off the arm of the couch. She grabbed the back of his robes and hauled him to his feet, "C'mon, Sirius, it's time for detention, and you need to show me where McGonagall's room is."

When they arrived in her classroom, the strict teacher took their wands and led them to the trophy room, leaving them with two rags and a bucket of soapy water, informing them to clean the room, no magic. She left, locked the door, informing them that it would unlock as soon as the trophies were sufficiently clean.

Sirius grabbed a ladder from the other side of the room and started working on the trophies that were higher up, while Dewey stood down and worked on the center ones.

"This one went to some dude named Tom Riddle," Dewey called out to him after a half an hour of silence, "I wish my last name was Riddle, then I could go around saying 'Riddle me this!' to people!"

"Why don't you marry this Tom guy, then," Sirius teased her. "That way you'll be a Riddle too."

"Ew," Dewey wrinkled her nose, "He must be really old by now."

They chatted amiably, trying to stall the inevitable awkward silence that they both knew was coming. When it did fall, it lasted for about another hour.

Sirius was almost working on the top three layers trophies, while Dewey had nearly finished all of the bottom ones. She was now crouching on the ground to reach the bottom ones.

Sirius finished up the upper ones and moved the ladder back to the other side of the room, waiting for Dewey to finish.

"Oi, Sirius," She called him back over to where she was cross-legged on the ground, "Can you tell that I didn't clean the back of this trophy? I don't want to have to reach around it."

Dewey waved her hand towards a rather large trophy that was on the bottom.

"Well," Sirius said, eying the trophy, "I can't tell, but McGonagall charmed the door to stay shut until everything was clean."

"Bollocks," She frowned, before she got onto her knees and bent forward to reach around the trophy. Sirius couldn't help but watch.

When she bent even further, Sirius unconsciously leaned forward. It was easy for Sirius' hormone-infested brain to exaggerate the movements in his mind.

She moved back and forth a few times before they heard the lock to the door 'click' open and Dewey turned around to put the cleaning rag back in the bucket, when she caught Sirius in the act.

"You're staring at my arse!" She accused.

Sirius' face slowly colored, a blush creeping up his neck, "Am not!" He protested.

"It's alright, Sirius," She stood up and winked at him, "My arse is rather lovely."

Sirius' face felt like it was on fire. He just been caught ogling his best mates sisters bum. Luckily for him, James wasn't very over protective of his sister. And, hopefully, James would never find out.

"How are we supposed to get our wands back?" Dewey questioned as though nothing strange (or incredibly humiliating) had occurred a moment ago.

"Oh, er," Sirius peeled a package off the wall, "She leaves them in here so we don't have to wake her up."

"Thanks," Dewey said as she walked a few paces ahead, examining the paintings on the wall, leaving Sirius to (once again) stare at her arse.

"Yeah, it's really arseful," Sirius eyes shot away from Dewey and to the ceiling, "I mean helpful! It's really helpful!"

Dewey chuckled up ahead and shot him a look as if to say 'Really, Sirius?' "Control yourself, man. I know you're part dog and all, but seriously, Sirius?"

"That stopped being funny when we were eight," Sirius muttered, still red in the face.

"Dude, we met when we were twelve," Dewey reminded him.

"The details are unimportant," He waved his hand absentmindedly at her.

"Abstinence," Dewey said. It took Sirius a moment to realize that she was saying the password to The Fat Lady, because they had reached the common room. She muttered to herself, "Who would make the password abstinence? It's obvious that kids don't practice it here." She stood up straighter and stretched, bending over backwards so her back would crack. "Well, g'night Sirius."

Unfortunately for Sirius, he wouldn't get a good nights sleep, for he was too busy dreaming about a certain Potter and her cleaning techniques.

Poor, poor, Sirius. He really never stood a chance.