Tried and True
"I'm telling you, we should just stick with a Dungbomb in his cauldron," Peter said.
He was sick of the argument, sick of the way it caused Sirius to jump up and down, James to pace back and forth, Remus to scurry from book to book, and himself to feel even hotter just watching all their frenetic activity. They were already facing an unseasonable heat wave and while Peter wanted to get back at Snivellus as much as the next man (even when that next man was Sirius) he also wanted to not die from heat exhaustion. They had been planning the perfect prank for what seemed like hours now, but despite not coming up with any alternatives, no one was willing to listen to Peter's perfectly reasonable suggestion.
"We did that last time," said Sirius, derisively. Peter didn't think it fair that Sirius always vetoed his ideas.
"And the time before," James chimed in.
"And you both thought it was a brilliant idea then," Peter pointed out, a little sourly. If Sirius or James had come up with it again this time, they wouldn't be having this argument. But no, he was the one to suggest it first, so therefore they couldn't leave the stuffy castle to go dip their feet in the lake or find a nice shady spot under some trees to cool off.
"We didn't all think it was a brilliant idea," Remus said. In fact, he had argued that it was disruptive and would get them all into trouble, just as he had an hour earlier when James decided that they were due to prank Snape again. But Remus never did more than voice a token objection before delving into the matter with almost as much enthusiasm as James or Sirius.
Frankly, Peter thought they'd already reached perfection and it was too sticky out to bother with changing a working formula.
"What's best is if we find something that is only slightly off from what we're actually working on," Remus said thoughtfully. "That way it'll look as if Snape made a mistake."
"How about adding some Octopus Powder?" James suggested. "All that does is strengthen the potion, increase the reaction. Very natural way to make it look like he messed up."
"Won't work," Sirius said, shaking his head ruefully. "We're using Flobberworm Mucus and the two null each other out. Besides, I'm not sure I agreed to make it look like an accident. Where's the fun if he doesn't know it was us that did it?"
"We're trying to avoid detention, Sirius," Remus said, patiently. "Exams are soon and then there's…"
He bit his lips, never wanting to say the words out loud.
"Your furry little problem," James supplied, sotto voce.
"Precisely," Remus said.
"I think we don't need Sluggy to know what we did, we just need Snivellus, right?" Peter asked. "And won't he? I mean, isn't he just stuck up enough to believe he couldn't do any wrong? So if anything goes wrong, even if it wasn't us—or at least, even if it didn't seem like it was us to the teachers, he'd still blame us, wouldn't he?"
They stopped to think about that for a second. A brilliant smile spread over James' face and he thumped Peter's back in congratulations. "Good point, Pete!" he crowed.
Peter tried not to blush at the praise, which was very rare. But then he ruined it all by pushing his luck.
"But couldn't we just get the same result from a Dungbomb? They dissolve, don't they?"
Sirius groaned. "Not that again. And here I thought you might have an original idea in your head for once, but then you go and ruin it. No, we are not throwing in a Dungbomb. We're too good for that."
"We weren't too good for that last time," Peter muttered.
"There has to be something that's better," Remus muttered. "How about adding dragon scales? Wouldn't they react with the fairy wings?"
Remus was only marginally better at Potions than Peter, so Peter let the others answer.
"It does. I suppose," James said, drawing out the words longer than necessary instead of just snapping that Remus was wrong. "But it's not really what we're looking at. It'll just sort of… bubble over. I mean, yes, it'll be hot as hell, and yes, Snivellus' skin will erupt in boils—"
"Not that anyone would be able to tell," Sirius interjected. "Probably be an improvement, in fact."
James continued on without acknowledging the insult. "—but really, where is the genius of it? Boils are boring. We need something… bigger."
"Better," Sirius added.
"More complicated," Peter said, and when they started nodding in agreement, he tried to school his expression so that they'd believed he was getting into the spirit of the game, not complaining.
"Fine," Remus agreed. "But if not boils, then what? Perhaps we'd be better off deciding what we want to occur and then working backwards to see what we need to accomplish it."
"Well, it'll have to be something embarrassing," James said slowly.
"Which is a hard thing to do," Sirius added, "what with Snivellus being so slimy. All the normal things we might do to his hair or face could only be an improvement."
Peter wondered how much faster their planning process would go if they didn't stop to insult Snape every three seconds, but then realized that such a thing would probably result in more detentions (since they never gave serious consideration on how to keep themselves from being caught) and wondered if he should throw in an insult or two to keep them off track a bit longer.
Really, it was too hot to think. Maybe if they got caught up in insulting the Slytherin, they would forget about this whole planning in advance thing and go after him right now. Peter was sure that Snape would be smart enough to be outside, where there was probably a breeze to help break the stifling heat.
The real question was, what to insult. Sirius had already claimed hair and face, so Peter would have to get a little more creative than that, which was a shame because he always scored points by mentioning what a greasy slimeball Snape was.
His ears? No, that would just be weird. For all his other faults, Snape's ears were perfectly normal, in so far as Peter paid attention to people ears.
And his grades… well, Peter knew better than to throw stones when it came to school work. Had Snape actually been here, it would be one thing, but once their rival was out of sight, Sirius often forgot all about the rules of solidarity and would just as soon make fun of Peter's smarts.
Finally, he settled on an insult, one that he was certain would do nicely.
"We might as well just add a gland of a striped polecat, that way no one will be able to tell whether the stench comes from his cauldron or from Snape himself, not with how often he washes up."
The others were giving him strange looks, and Peter wanted to know why.
"Ye-es," James said, stretching the word out for two syllables, "I'm not sure he would even notice the difference if we changed the password on the prefect bathroom, but as we've already decided on upping the puffer-fish eyes to see if we can't induce the side effects, I don't know why you're bringing it up."
Oh. He'd missed that. Perhaps he should have been paying more attention.
"I'm almost afraid to hear him sing with that voice of his, but then I remember our pain will be his embarrassment and…"
Sirius was the only person Peter knew that could shrug smugly.
Peter could only guess that an irrational desire to burst into song was the side effect they were referring to, but didn't want to ask. It was hard to pay attention when they were going on about what would react best to rose oil, or what caused a griffin's claw to alert someone to poison. It was bad enough when it was the professors talking and those things were going to be on exams. Peter had better things to memorize than how to do things wrong. He'd learnt that lesson after second year, when during exams he'd accidentally put eels eyes into his potion, not only giving him failing marks, but also cluing Slughorn into the fact that they had been the ones responsible for the plague of bulging eyes during dinner a month earlier.
None of the others had appreciated the detention Peter had earned them after exams were over.
No, after that disaster, Peter had decided to stick to the classics—for example, he would never accidentally add a Dungbomb during a test—and play the distraction. Which he was sure he would be relegated to, when the others were finished planning.
He was right. Unfortunately, as he also wasn't too surprised to learn, it involved him messing up his potion, loudly and messily.
"But I can't mess up my potion, I need the marks," he protested.
"But no one will believe it if Prongs and I mess up our potion," Sirius said, imitating Peter's cadence just enough that he knew he was being mocked.
"Sorry, Pete," Remus said with some real sympathy. "But he has a point. If Padfoot and Prongs mess up just seconds before Snivellus does—well, everyone will suspect that we had a hand in it. And we can't have that, can we?"
Peter knew there was no way to win this argument, so he just gave in to the inevitable and let the others continue to plan while he tried to keep still and not die of heat exhaustion.
By the time Potions came around a few days later, everything was set. Remus had written down step-by-step instructions, narrowing the timing down to the second. They had run through the scenario twice, with James and Sirius each taking a turn at playing the part of Snape, shrieking unmanly and cursing his clever and handsome Gryffindor foes for pulling one over on him again.
("I thought we weren't going to let anyone know it was us? I can't have detention this close to exams." "Wormtail, of course everyone will know it is us, they just won't be able to prove it. What would the point be, otherwise?")
They had gone over every possibility, ("Quick, what do you do if Slughorn notices you doubling up on the ingredients?" "That's easy, I just look down at the book and do a doubletake, pretending I mixed it up with the amount of flabbergasted leeches"), come up with contingencies for if Slughorn decided to work ahead in the textbook and called for them to make Fothergill's Remedy instead ("That's when we double up on puffer-fish eyes, right?" "No, we double up on puffer-fish eyes if all is going well. If we switch potions, that's when we add extra Octopus Powder. Honestly, Wormtail!") or if Snape moved from his usual cauldron to one across the room ("I'm not the star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for no reason"). Peter had even slipped a cheatsheet up the sleeves of his robes, not that he told the others about it lest they tease him. By the end of it, he was starting to believe that this would actually work.
It didn't.
Four days of doing nothing but plan for every contingency imaginable found Sirius sitting on top of the desk, absent-mindedly swinging his feet, in a surprisingly good mood considering how awfully they'd failed.
"I've been thinking about it, but I haven't yet decided where it was, exactly, we went wrong," he announced to the others.
"Do you think it might have to do with a plan that required three steps even before we went into the classroom?" Peter asked. He might not have been so bold except everything that had happened clearly hadn't been his fault; not even Sirius could try to get him to accept culpability this time.
"No, and shut it," Sirius said, still mild. "Maybe it was the moly root. Should have remembered it was that volatile."
"That explosion was rather messy," Remus agreed, "and, erm, painful. Next time would you please try not to aim it my way?"
"That was an accident," James said as he had been saying ever since they'd gone to collect Remus in the Hospital Wing after Potions class. "Believe it or not, I'm not actually good at directing exploding potions."
"Which is why we usually require the aid of Dr. Filibuster when looking for precision in our destruction," Sirius said impatiently. "Yes, yes, Moony, you've got to let it go."
"Let it go? That's rich. It wasn't me who spent an entire week after being released from the Hospital Wing whinging about a little sprained wrist now, was it?"
"Hey, it wasn't just a sprained wrist and you know that Pomfrey wouldn't let me go back to practice for two days and we were less a week away the match against Hufflepuff and you know they have uncommonly good Beaters," James protested at the same time Sirius said, "And I told Prongs the same thing I'm telling you now. It happened, it was an accident, no one wants to hear it."
"In any case," Remus said dryly, his tone promising that whilst he might have moved on for the moment, he wasn't going to forgive and forget for at least a week, "when I exploded, that was just the point where all hell broke loose. No, things began to go wrong much earlier than that."
"You think we should have just stopped after that first explosion?" asked James.
"That shouldn't even be a question," said Remus at almost the exact same time as Sirius said, "I can't believe you would doubt—"
They both stopped and looked at each other. Remus sighed.
"No, Sirius," he said, enunciating the words as clearly as if he were talking to a three-year old who didn't understand why putting a hand into a fire that wasn't green was a bad idea and would result in a painful burn, "I know that my blowing up didn't help the situation any, but you still had to know claiming there was a mixup in the potion ingredients was just asking for trouble. Riots are usually not considered a good idea and we most definitely should not consider doing something that would start one again. Ever."
"But you have to admit, the very fact that people listened to me even after all these years of knowing better is something that ought to be exploited," said Sirius.
"You have to admit, mate," said James, elbowing Sirius in a friendly manner that Peter would never be able to get away with, "we will exploit it, but a mixup with the potions ingredients was probably not your best idea."
"Half them thought you'd done the mixing up, anyway, which is why they were so willing to believe it," Remus interjected.
"And starting that brawl after…" James trailed off. "Well, next time let's wait until at least the professor has left the room, alright?"
"Regardless, I've been thinking about this a lot, because some of us like to learn from our mistakes—"
Sirius didn't cut in, but he did roll his eyes.
"And I've come to the conclusion that where it went all wrong was when we insisted on carrying on even after Slughorn told us there was a mistake in the book and that the recipe we'd been basing everything on was wrong. I know you don't like waiting, but we can always put it off until next time if the odds are stacked up against us so badly," said Remus. "So let's call that a lesson learned and move onto better things in the future."
"Do you know what's better than learning from your mistakes?" asked Peter. "Not changing a good thing in the first place."
"Just because you have no imagination," said Sirius, who knew exactly what Peter was referring to.
"Just because I don't want to mess with what works!" Peter interrupted. "And do you know what works? Do you know what has been proven time and time again? What does Slughorn try to drill into us, if we can't replicate the potion, we don't get the marks? Well, guess what I can replicate? If I throw a Dungbomb into his cauldron, I can teach Snivellus Snape a lesson that he would never forget, even if he is a creepy, rotten, good-for-nothing Slytherin who can't remember something as basic as what soap is used for."
He was breathing heavily by the time he'd finished his rant. The others were staring at him, but only Remus was showing any alarm over the outburst. "What's the matter with you?" Peter demanded.
"Plenty, Pettigrew. But I suspect they are, as I am, waiting for you to continue."
Peter didn't let out a yelp, but he couldn't stop himself from jumping, just a bit. He was just glad his back was to the door so Snape couldn't see how wide his eyes had gone. He hadn't heard the Slytherin boy enter the classroom, but judging by the manic grin gracing Sirius' face, he had and let Peter dig the hole regardless.
"Sn—Snape," Peter stammered out, only remembering at the last minute that he shouldn't be calling him 'Snivellus' not when they were in detention and Sirius was smiling like he wasn't going to stand up for Peter unless things got really bad.
"Pettigrew. I believe you were saying something about how you would 'teach me a lesson that I wouldn't forget','" said Snape, his voice low and menacing.
"A Dungbomb, I believe," Sirius said. Peter wasn't sure what he'd done to offend his roommate recently, but whatever it was, he'd have to find some way to make it up to Sirius soon if this is how he was going to react. "In his cauldron."
At least James got to his feet and stood beside Peter. Remus did too, after a brief glance to the ceiling. But then, Peter could always count on Remus even if he had spent the entire week not getting over getting blown up. Only when Snape put his hand on his wand did Sirius stop portraying a bored air and draw his own wand.
It was a good thing that Slughorn entered the class when he did. A duel would have broken out before much longer if things were allowed to continue on.
"Oh good, you're all here," he said, too cheerfully for someone who was spending their Saturday night hosting detention. "Well, there's no sense in wasting time. We're running low on stink toad powder so I need you to prepare it. Take a toad, gut and behead it, dry it and then crush into powder. Do you remember the necessary spell? Desicco to dry them out. The rest you'll have to do by hand. Don't mind the smell, boys."
Peter groaned, quietly so that no one heard. The last time they'd been caught throwing a Dungbomb in a cauldron, detention had consisted of sorting doxy eggs into small, medium and large, work that was mind-numbingly easy, could be done with a wand when the professor wasn't looking and, above all, didn't require him to spend the entire evening trying to breath through his mouth to filter out the stench.
Some things were classics for a reason.