Headmaster for a Day...or Two:

Part I

Picture the most boring day you've ever had in your life, and then multiply it by two hundred.

That was how the Marauders were feeling one drowsy April morning.

The common room was as tepid as exam day. Students were lounging on the couches, staring at the fire-less hearth or sitting on the window seats, gazing out into the bleak grey sky.

The Marauders, ever the boisterous boys, were atypically subdued. The pranks they were supposed to pull off that day were discarded like a used tissue because the orders they placed with Zonko's had been cancelled. The joke store had ruefully forgotten they'd given their owls a break that morning and decided being sued by the Union for Carrier Owls was not worth it.

Peter was lying with his face nestled into the carpet. He hadn't moved a muscle since they had went downstairs half an hour ago and the Marauders couldn't be bothered to check if he was still alive.

James was halfheartedly gazing starry-eyed at Lily, who had given up studying for doodling.

Remus could be seen – or rather heard – snoozing under his giant tome that he used for 'light reading'.

Sirius was gracefully blowing a piece of hair away from his face, and then watching it fall down to its original position, until he started again.

This would have gone on all day, if Professor McGonagall had not entered the common room then.

"Good morning students. I have an announcement that will surely cheer you up." Even McGonagall, usually so optimistic, looked beat. "Professor Dumbledore has decided that Hogwarts needs a little excitement to brighten up our lives. Therefore, he is electing one student to become the Headmaster (or Headmistress) for a few days."

"Why?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Professor Dumbledore will be explaining this more scrupulously as he is waiting for us in the Great Hall. Follow me."

The trek to the Great Hall moved at a sluggish pace. People were bumping into each other unapologetically, their eyes shut in sleep. Any rivalries between houses were temporarily forgotten as former enemies leaned drowsily on their foes as they trudged along the corridors.

It was a harmonious scene.

Once they had all properly entered the Hall, Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands twice to gather their attention. He was standing behind a tall podium with a pleasant smile on his face. A tiny fedora was placed upside down on the podium, overflowing with bits of parchments with tiny words scribbled across.

"Good morning! I trust that your Head of House has told you about the gimmick I'm trying. It's simple, really. I'm sure you've all noticed that there's always a part of the school year where it stretches on and on, and you must all find it tedious. I most definitely know the faculty does. So, I'm challenging you, the students, to make it more enjoyable. From this hat, I will draw the name of the student who will be the Headmaster for the weekend. To be fair, no one has been put in twice, and everyone - including first years – have their names entered.

"Please know that this draw is arbitrary; I do not favour any students above others. There is enough room in my heart for all of you." He said poignantly, and his eyes became mysteriously misty.

A few people coughed to break the awkward silence.

If anyone had thought to bring drums, there would have certainly been a drum roll playing. Dumbledore put one hand into the fedora and, to almost everyone's astonishment, managed to fit his whole arm inside the tiny hat. Churning his arm around, it wasn't until thirty seconds passed that Dumbledore snagged a slip of parchment, extracting his arm away. The students of Hogwarts waited with bated breath as the ancient Headmaster unfolded the piece of parchment.

Lifting his head up, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, ninety four years of age, opened his mouth ready to announce the person – child – that was going to be replacing him as Headmaster of the most prestigious magical school in the world.

"Potter, James."

"Potter! Get out from there! We need to work on your speech!"

"Merlin's teeth, can you wait? I'm trying to get my beard straight."

"You don't need a goddamn beard!"

"Bullshit! All Headmasters need beards! And guess what, Pads? I'M THE HEADMASTER!"

"Please don't tell me you're dancing in there."

"Killjoy."

Sirius kicked the door in agitation. Brushing hair away from his eyes, he turned around and was greeted with the sight of his two other best friends sitting cross legged on the floor writing on parchment.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and because he was feeling extra rude today, placed a foot on top of Remus' scroll.

"Shove off, would you?" Remus pushed his foot away, not once stopping to pause from his mad scribbling.

"Why does everyone hate me?" Sirius whined, and when no one answered him, transformed into the black, shaggy dog that was his Animagus. He put his fluffy head between his paws and gave them his patented puppy dog eyes.

No one looked his way.

James exited from the bathroom and Remus hopped up from the floor.

"Hey, I've made a list of things that I think you should do to make the school much better. Like ordering The Rudimentary skills set for the library. They've just added Arithmancy and Divination to the mix. It's going to be bloody fantastic." Remus only ever swore whenever he was very angry, or if it had anything to do with books. Usually the most foulest swears came out of his mouth if it was both. "Perhaps we should discuss this with the other prefects? They might have some interesting ideas to put forth, too."

"Sure, whatever," said James, fixing the cuffs of his robes. It was green and spattered with shooting stars. A brown belt was looped around his waist, and a long, grey beard (no one asked him where he had gotten it) was tucked into the buckle. His regular frames were gone, and instead it was replaced with half-moon spectacles. "Make sure the meeting's after noon. I need my rest. Do you have any requests for me, Wormy?"

Peter lifted his head. "Huh? Oh, no. this is just my Muggle Studies homework. Hey, how do you spell slinky? Is it with a C or K?"

"I think it's with both a C and K."

"Thanks, Professor!" Peter did a double take. "Wait, Prongs? Damn, you're good!"

Sirius shifted back, giving James the once-over. "Not bad." He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to get a better angle. "But wipe that stupid look off your face. It ruins the image."

"What look?"

"Never mind."

The sound of a fork tinkling against a glass echoed across the Hall. All at once, conversations halted.

"Now that I have your attention," James was sitting in Dumbledore's high backed chair, with said Headmaster next to him in an identical copy. "I would just like to thank Professor Dumbledore for awarding me this prestigious title. This experience so far is wonderful." He turned to look at the four hourglasses depicting the point system. Gryffindor was minus fifty points. "On that note, I think that we should honour Professor Dumbledore's former house – the house that had molded him to such an amazing Headmaster. So, with that said...FIVE THOUSAND POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!"

At his words, red gems began to descend at a rapid pace. Once the hourglass reached its full capacity, it started to shake and quiver in an attempt to let in more points. Finally, it exploded with a shuddering bang!

Children screamed and began to flee. Others used the distraction to dive bomb and collect the glittering gems. People were shoving and hexing from all directions and a cacophony of chaos ensued.

Flitwick quickly waved his wand and Vanished the glass bits before it hit the students who were too preoccupied with smuggling the rubies to worry about the deadly shards.

James was disgruntled. He was sure his plan was foolproof. Guess it was time to bring out the big guns. "SIT DOWN!" He boomed, and startled Kettleburn, the Herbology professor, so bad, soup dribbled down his shirt.

"I cannot – can not – believe the level of immaturity you've all displayed right now." He was quiet, but his voice somehow carried across the room. "What do you think this is - a zoo? I, for one, am ashamed. I am ashamed to call you all my classmates, ashamed that this is our next generation of Ministers, Healers, Aurors and Professors, but more importantly, I am ashamed in myself.

"Erm, this isn't the speech we agreed on…" Sirius said, flummoxed as James paused for breath.

Remus had a faraway look on his face. His prayers were finally being answered. "Isn't it brilliant?"

"All these years, my friends and I created trouble in this school with little disregard of how others else felt. We were young, yes, but we were stupid. And I fear we've spread our mindset with you. So until we all start behaving like proper young men and women, until you've earned back my respect, we can proceed. In the meantime, you lot just earned yourselves detention."

Somewhere in the audience, Lily Evans sighed dreamily.

"We'll take it from here, Mr. Potter." interjected Professor McGonagall.

James clasped his hands behind his back. He had absolutely no clue what compelled him to say that, but something was forcing him to continue. Ever since Dumbledore had picked James to be the mock Headmaster for a few days, he was exuberant. Finally he found a way to annoy the Slytherins while still escaping detention (not that it wasn't possible before, just that now it was easier). But the minute his Infinite Points Plan went awry and he witnessed his fellow students go mental, James decided that there was more to him than chaos. He needed order. "It's alright, Minerva. This is my duty. I am the Headmaster, after all."

She bristled, but still managed to keep her cool. "Please remember your place, Mr. Potter. I am still your teacher, and no silly title will change that."

"Okay, Professor. But seeing as Professor Dumbledore did appoint me this position - no matter how temporarily - all perks apply to me, including giving out detentions."

The students were watching James and McGonagall face off like a ping pong match.

"Now see here – "

"Professor, I know you mean well, but please. Perhaps you should take a break? You've been teaching for quite a while, haven't you? It's only fair. I mean, I don't want you dying out on us from excessive work."

McGonagall leaped to her feet. If she was upset before then she was royally ticked off now. But before she could open her mouth to reprimand him severely (with a few choice words inserted between, no doubt), James stopped her.

"It's been a good run, Minerva, I'll give you that. But I'm afraid it's best if we part ways."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm firing you."

TBC...

A/N: Has James lost his mind? You'll see. Have I lost my mind? Perhaps. But cut me some slack, because...

*drum roll*

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