I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny, but we can have lots of good fun that is funny.

-Dr. Seuss

James skipped into the Great Hall the next day, shoving Sirius playfully and laughing. Sirius stumbled into a smaller human, who snapped, "Watch it, Black."

Sirius straightened up, and James poked his head over his friend's shoulder. Ah. Evans. "Sorry, Evans!" Sirius replied cheerfully. "I'm just glad I bumped into you and not your friend... No offence. It's just that I just took a shower last night, and I really do love my hair."

Evans growled and stepped on Sirius' foot before stomping away, nose in the air, with Snivellus trailing sulkily after her. James snorted. "Well, looks like we've found our victim," he breathed deviously. Sirius grinned.

Remus poked James' shoulder. "C'mon, James. I thought we agreed: no lasting harm." James rolled his eyes as Remus continued to preach, "Do you want to be known here as a bully?"

"No, Remus," James assured him. "We just want to make sure we get him before he gets us."

Peter, who had just arrived, puffing slightly, reminded them, "His little friends already got us, remember? You nearly fell off the Astronomy Tower—excellent lesson, by the way. Did you see Jupiter? It looked lovely—" Peter stopped abruptly, his watery blue eyes following Sirius' eyebrows as they creeped closer and closer to his hairline. "Er, I mean, you nearly fell off the Astronomy Tower, and I know for a fact that wasn't an accident, or they would've apologised. So, see Remus? We're only making things fair." James was impressed. Peter didn't look it, but he could be clever if he wanted to be.

James clapped his hands and rubbed them together, eager to begin. "So. First prank. It's gotta be a good one, or it'll be lame, and that would suck."

"Yes, James. Being lame would suck. Thank you so much for that enlightening bit of information," Remus deadpanned. James grinned at him.

"Enlightening is my forte, Remus. Now. Down to business. What would be different?"

Sirius leaned forward. "Shampoo should be involved." On receiving bemused reactions, he continued, "Since he's such a greasy little git. And I really do love my hair," he added. Sirius ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, slowing down exaggeratedly and striking a ridiculous pose. James made a tiny whoosh noise to accompany him. Sirius laughed his now familiar, bark-like laugh and continued, "Obviously, we can't use ours. It would be much too manly to use on- AND that is how you tie a tie, Peter." Sirius switched topics quickly as Professor McGonagall passed. Under her hawk-like gaze, he straightened his Gryffindor tie in such a way that even James believed that he had just been instructing Peter on how to properly tie a tie. "Now, show me." Peter knotted his tie perfectly—he was actually excellent at it. It was James that was rubbish at tying anything, from his shoelaces to a bow on a Christmas present. Remus usually did it for him.

They waited until the Head of Gryffindor House had passed before dropping their voices to a whisper and moving away. "As I was saying, our hair products are much too manly to even dream of using them on a being such as Snivellus, so we must find some unmanly shampoo."

"So... The girls?" James asked. "They always smell like flowers..." James trailed off at his friends' incredulous looks. "What?" he asked defensively. "Evans sits in front of me in History of Magic, and Binns is as about as boring as an old person reading a history textbook... Which I suppose he is," he mused, staring at nothing. He snapped to attention. "My point is, they probably all smell at least somewhat like she does, which is nowhere near manly, I assure you."

Remus was studying the people around them intently. Suddenly, his eyes alighted on a prefect, and he gasped. "James, you're brilliant, but I can top that."

"How?!" James protested indignantly.

"Him," Remus said, surreptitiously pointing out the prefect. "Oh, and from now on, when pointing out new people, we should give name, house, year, and why we are pointing him or her out, so this is a perfect example... Sixth year Prefect. Slytherin. Name, Lucius Malfoy. He loves his hair almost more than anything... Only beat by his love for purity of blood and his girlfriend, Narcissa Black. Actually," Remus muttered, "it may beat his girlfriend."

Sirius cackled, "Sorry, Cissy. She's my cousin," he added helpfully. "Right there, he's going up to her... Narcissa Black, fifth year Slytherin Prefect–hey, what's he doing? Oh my—ewwww." Sirius turned away, giggling madly. "Wait till 'Dromeda hears this..." James, Remus, and Peter turned away in disgust at the very public display of affection.

"So..." Peter brought them back to the matter at hand. "Slytherin prefect who loves his hair more than almost anything, including his girlfriend. Slytherin wand-up-his-arse slimeball in desperate need of a wash. Add that up, you get..." His pointed face lit up with glee. "A very good vengeance prank."

"An excellent vengeance prank, I'd wager," James added proudly. "Splendid synopsis, Mr. Peter, if I do say so myself."

"Why thank you, Mr. James. Mr. Remus, would you care to take over?"

"Not at all, Mr. Peter. Mr. Sirius, my dear fellow, would you mind sneaking around a bit to get the Slytherin password?"

"Not at all, Mr. Remus."

"Actually," James began slowly. "You may not have to do much sneaking around."

James was incredibly nervous. He had never shown it to anyone: he had never had any friends to show it to. But it was incredibly precious to him; it was a gift from his father, and he kept all of the gifts from his father close because they were few and far between. But now, he had friends to share his secrets with. Growing up with no one but a sock puppet to share secrets with had made him long for human closeness, something he had never quite had.

He knew his parents loved him, and he loved them more than anything. But his father was an Auror, his mother a Healer. Their efforts were always much needed, and they had to be everywhere at once. On several occasions, he had woken up to hear his father swearing as he tumbled down the stairs in the pitch black of night, rushing to the rescue. His father was a superhero. There were days when he would be eating breakfast with his mother, hoping that, for once, he might be able to spend a day with her, like other children could with their mothers, and someone's Patronus would flash in through the kitchen window, and she would be out the door in a flash, kissing his forehead hurriedly.

Sometimes, he didn't even get that.

So he resolved that, from now on, James Potter would be a library book. You could pluck him off the shelf, scan the synopsis on his back cover, then open him up to read. And, as long as you put him back in excellent condition, anyone could do the same. James liked the sound of that. He considered even writing an autobiography, or, Merlin forbid, a diary, just so he could say that he was an open book.

James cautiously lead his friends into the dormitory. Glancing around to make sure Frank wasn't there, he snapped the door shut and locked it. It wasn't that he didn't like Frank, or didn't trust him. But they were pretty casual friends. Not best friends. Frank had Alice, and James had the Marauders. "Okay," he began slowly. "I'm gonna show you something, but you can't tell anyone. It's really important." They nodded vigorously, their faces eager and resolved. "Okay. Okay..."

"James, you've said 'okay' three times in the past minute," Remus informed him dryly. "It's getting a bit repetitive." James laughed. He was grateful for Remus' comment; it was relieving the tension and nervousness that had crept into his bones.

James flung open the lid of his trunk and withdrew the precious package. He hadn't yet used it at Hogwarts... And he reckoned that this prank would be the perfect initiation. Gingerly, he turned to face them: Remus, whose arms were crossed, whose face was brooding, scarred, and excited. Sirius, who perched on his bed, leaning forward eagerly to glimpse the contents of the package. Peter, who was trembling in excitement, his pointed nose quivering the slightest bit. James untied the string slowly—Remus began humming absentmindedly—and let the brown paper packaging tumble to the floor, to rest with the string amongst socks and textbooks. James shook it out, and they gasped.

Sirius toppled off the bed in his excitement. "James," he gasped, "that's an Invisibility Cloak!"

"Yes," replied James, "I know." Sirius chuckled, but then was again transfixed by the fluttering silver cloak in James' fingers. James cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I thought we could use it for pranks, cause, you know..." He trailed off a bit. "It makes you invisible."

"That's why it's called an Invisibility Cloak, James," breathed Remus, but James could tell that he, too, was awed. His eyes sparkled and a silly grin was stretching across his face. "May I...?" James handed the Cloak to him, and Remus' smile widened to the point where his scars almost disappeared. He looked infinitely younger, his pine green eyes glinted with mischief, his face lit up with boyish glee. "James, this is extraordinary!" he exclaimed, his voice breathy. "Where ever did you get it?"

"And, more importantly, when can we start using it?" Peter added. "I can just see it—we could go anywhere, see anything. Only Dumbledore can stop us now!"

James gasped. "Oh! Oh! I have an idea, I do!"

"James, no one is stopping you from saying it," Remus pointed out. "We're not in class or anything."

James flushed pink but continued. "We could be vigilantes! What if, at least at first, we didn't say it was us? And then we go about pranking the supremacist gits, under cover. We could be, like, the Merry Men of Hogwarts!" Peter nodded enthusiastically, Sirius grinned evilly, and Remus slowly began to nod.

"But... Where will we get code names from?" he asked.

James shrugged. "For now, we should just sign the Marauders. Then, we can come up with code names, like next year, and then BOOM we sign it Messers. Blank, Blank, Blank, and Blank, without signing Marauders. Then, in third year, we can do both. Then, in fourth year, we reveal our true identities!" James concluded dramatically.

Sirius exclaimed, "Yeah! Yeah! And I know how we can come up with code names!"

Remus twisted to face him so fast he stumbled and fell over. Unaffected, he popped back up and demanded, "Really? How?"

"We can find out our spirit animals!" Sirius declared with conviction. Met with their skeptical expressions, he assured them, "No, really! I read about it somewhere... Hold on... Aha!" He brandished an old, musty book. "I snitched it from my old man's library back at Number 12. It's full of pretty cool concepts for sort of advanced magic..." Sirius' eyes widened at his friend's dismayed faces, and he spluttered, "No, don't give up on me! There's a potion in here..." He flipped open to a dogeared page. Remus lunged for it, ignoring Sirius' indignation at having it snatched from him, and fussily smoothed out the bent corner.

"There," he cooed, "all better now." His eyebrows drew together as he scanned the page. "I dunno Sirius... This potion looks pretty tricky, and we would have to steal some of these ingredients... Where would we brew it, anyways? It's not like we can brew it in here, and the teacher would kill us if we tried to brew it in his classroom. I mean, we would be breaking about a million school rules—"

James interjected, "I know that Hogwarts is a pretty strict school sometimes, but I don't think it's that strict."

Remus glared at him. "It was an exaggeration, James! As I was saying, where would we brew it?"

"Well," Peter began slowly, "no one ever goes into Myrtle's place."

Sirius glanced at him confusedly. "Myrtle?"

"Yeah. Moaning Myrtle. She died in a girls' toilet a few decades ago, and she's so depressing that none of the girls ever go in there. I overheard Jones complaining the other day in History of Magic," he added as an explanation.

Remus began to nod. "Yeah, that could work... Okay. Today, during Potions, Pete and I can sneak some ingredients, cause we are start a new potion today, so he's going to send us to the ingredients cabinet anyways. You, James, will accompany Sirius on his way to learn the Slytherin password tomorrow night. You can drop the cauldron off on your way there. Then come back as soon as you've gotten the password. And, most importantly," Remus fixed them all with a glare: one that chilled them to the bone with the bestial quality it lent the boy's face. "Don't get caught."

They had Potions with the Slytherins right after breakfast, which was good; otherwise, they would be jittery throughout the day. This way, they only fidgeted during breakfast. Sirius' eyes shone with mischief as they walked to Potions, and James could see his own hazel eyes reflected in Sirius' grey ones, wide with excitement. He was sure that the effect was only magnified by his glasses, but for once, he really didn't care about his dorky glasses. He was too caught up in the moment, so exhilarated, to care whether or not his circle glasses made him look like a nerd. Or that Muggle singer, what's-his-face. Johnnie Lemons or something like that, but he wasn't important. Nothing was important. Nothing but this wonderful heist, this brilliant prank.

They entered the classroom and set up. James and Peter shared a cauldron, as did Sirius and Remus. Peter's chair was rattling against the ground. When James glanced over at him, he could see the anticipation and delight that he felt reflected on Peter's face.

The teacher bounced into the classroom. This would be James' first lesson with him. He was a man with an impressive moustache and balding straw-like hair, whose waistcoat strained against his shockingly rotund belly. His tiny feet clicked against the cold stone floor of the dungeon. His face was jovial, his gooseberry eyes lit with a smile. James rather liked him. He was sure that this incredibly jolly, fat man would not get too mad if they were caught.

"Now then," he began, rubbing his pudgy hands together eagerly. "My name is Professor Slughorn, and, as you can see, I'll be teaching you Potions for the next several years. We're going to start with a practical lesson today—"

"Why?" asked a voice from somewhere ahead of James. He leaned around his cauldron, then rolled his eyes. Of course. Only Evans would question a practical lesson. "Why aren't we learning the theory, or, I dunno, safety procedures, first?"

Sirius gasped, "Why would you want to learn safety procedures? That would make everything so dull."

"Now, now," interrupted Professor Slughorn. "This young lady asked a valid question. It is because I believe that learning is done best when applied immediately. Can any of you tell me what you know about the Cure for Boils?"

Evans' hand punched the air. "The Cure for Boils is effective against hives, pustules, and boils, obviously, and since it is a robust potion, care must be taken when brewing it. If brewed incorrectly, it may cause boils to form, or to erupt."

"Merlin, Evans," scoffed James. "You sound as if you've swallowed the bloody textbook." She twisted around in her seat and sent sparks at him, singing his eyebrows. James yelped, and she smugly turned back around to face the front.

"Excellent! Your name is Miss Evans?"

"Yes sir."

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Huw Evans, of Magical Law Enforcement?" inquired Professor Slughorn, a hint of hopefulness mingled with the interest in his tone.

"My parents are Muggles," Evans replied confusedly. Of course, James thought, dismayed. She doesn't know yet.

Professor Slughorn was evidently surprised that a Muggleborn had been able to answer so eloquently, and James' liking of him lessened distinctly. "Take five points for Gryffindor, Miss Evans." Evans beamed, and James rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat.

James glanced at Remus, who met his eye and nodded, his face grave. James gave him a small smile to reassure him that it was okay, he would do fine, he would not get caught. Suddenly grinning, he sat up and pointed his wand at Evans' inkwell, which che wasn't paying attention to in the least.

He whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa," and levitated her inkwell over, over, over, there. He lowered it carefully onto the very edge of her desk, right behind her elbow, right above her bookbag. When Slughorn dismissed them to retrieve their ingredients, she leapt up with such enthusiasm that her elbow hit the inkwell. Sent it toppling over the edge. Letting its contents soak her bag, and all that was in it. Drenching her books in blue black ink. Evans let a little cry of despair escape her pale pink lips as she hurriedly attempted to save her books.

They were stained navy blue, and James smothered his grin at Remus' disapproving face. He reconstructed his expression into one of polite concern, and knelt to help her. He was the only one that did. "I don't need your help," she growled. She pushed back her hair, getting the sticky ink there, too.

"And yet you're receiving it anyways," cheerfully replied James. He swept up her books, plopped them in her arms, and began mopping up the ink with his sleeve. She huffed and set her books down, then began fussing over them. Slughorn bustled over, seeing her dilemma, and set the textbooks right with a wave of his wand.

"Miss Evans, you must be more careful in the future," he chastised lightly. James didn't look up, but he could almost feel the heat radiating from her face as she muttered her assent. "And, Mr. Potter," he continued. James' head snapped up, tweaking his neck. "Good on you for helping a young lady."

"Just trying to be a gentleman, like my mum taught me," James answered seriously.

Slughorn nodded, obviously buying James' act. "Yes, yes, indeed. Take another five points for Gryffindor. How's your mother doing, by the way? She had quite the aptitude for Potions when I taught her."

"She's a Healer now, sir, and she's doing quite well." James paused, his fist clenching his ink soaked sleeve thoughtfully. "You must have been here a long time, sir." Slughorn roared with laughter.

"Cheeky, aren't you?" James grinned. "Another point, Mr. Potter, just for making me laugh." Slughorn bustled away again, and James finished mopping the ink up.

"Thanks, I guess," muttered Evans.

"Ah, Evans," he replied, patting her face condescendingly. "Maybe someday you'll see, I'm not all that bad."

"And pigs'll fly," she snorted.

James grinned at the blue handprint on her face, which she was oblivious to. "That can be arranged."

"Good luck," Remus whispered to Sirius and James as they hoisted the cauldron, filled with the ingredients, equipment, and old musty book. Peter drew the Invisibility Cloak over their heads, and led them out. Peter was to wait for them to return, hidden in the alcove just a few yards away from the portrait hole, then let them back in.

They moved as quietly as possible, but it was hard—not only was the cauldron loud, but Sirius kept getting distracted by the Cloak. Slowly but surely, they clanked down the six flights of stairs to the entrance hall, then down a corridor until they reached the bathroom labeled for girls. Quietly, they pushed open the door and slipped inside.

A wailing noise reached their ears, but abruptly stopped as the cauldron hit James' leg, making a loud clanging noise. "Who's there?" called a rather miserable sounding girls' voice. It echoed from nowhere. James pulled off the Cloak. The ghostly image of a young girl, about twelve years old, appeared in front of them. "You're boys," she informed them.

Sirius drawled, "No, really? We hadn't noticed."

"Then you must be quite thick," she mused, distracted from her misery. "Your bathroom is across the hall... But it's after curfew. You should be in bed, you should."

James sighed and put down the cauldron. "Myrtle, my name is James Potter and this is Sirius Black. We want to brew a potion, extracurricular of course, but we wanted to put it somewhere where no one would bother it. Would it be okay if we kept it here?"

Myrtle bit her translucent lip and frowned at them, her silvery eyes still watery-looking. "So... You'll be coming back?"

"Yes," confirmed Sirius.

"And you'll say hi to me?"

"If you want us to," James shrugged. Myrtle hesitated, then nodded.

"You can use the big stall over there," she muttered, waving vaguely over her shoulder. Then she floated away, wailing.

"Thank you, Myrtle!" called Sirius. "Why do you think she's doing that?" he whispered.

James shrugged again and whispered back, "Maybe she likes it." They left the cauldron in the large stall and, after a hurried farewell to their new host, rushed to the Slytherin common room under the Cloak, the location of which they had procured from the Prewett twins.

After loitering there for around five minutes, they realised that it was after curfew—all of the students were in bed. Sirius kicked at a suit of armour sourly. A loud clang echoed through the dark, dampish corridor they stood in. Their eyes met, and Sirius cursed under his breath as they dove into an alcove.

Suddenly, the wall opened up, and a lumpy looking boy stood at the opening, leering at the seemingly empty hallway. "Well, that got them to come out... How do we draw him further away?" James mused. He stuck his hand in his pyjama pocket thoughtfully, and his fingers brushed something. He pulled it out. An old piece of candy. "Aha!" he breathed. Sirius glanced over curiously, and his eyes lit up when he saw the candy. Sirius made a grab for it, and James shook his head before throwing it down the corridor.

James' aim was spot on, and a bang! drew the boy farther from the entrance, which sealed behind him. Sirius clapped quietly, and James grinned proudly, as they waited for the boy to come back.

Sirius whispered, "His name is Amycus Carrow. Bloody git. He was one of the pureblood kids my parents used to introduce me to, to try and 'fix me'. They stopped when this guy and his sister came here, about three years ago... His favorite pasttimes were spitting contests, and burning flobberworms with the sun and a firewhisky bottle." They both shook their heads disgustedly as Carrow returned.

Carrow grumbled, "Purity," and the wall reopened. James made to leave, but Sirius grabbed his arm and prevented him from going until the wall closed up again. Slowly, silently, they began to exit the dungeons. They were almost out—

—Sirius tripped on the last step, careening into a suit of armour. The blasted thing toppled over with a deafening crash, and shouts could be heard. All stealth forgotten, James yelled, "Run!" The two bolted up to the seventh floor, and Peter, who saw them coming and whispered the password before they got there, held open the portrait hole and closed it with a sharp snap.

All four Marauders sprinted up to their dorms and flopped onto their beds. "Sirius," James panted, "why do you have to be so bloody clumsy?"

"Language, James," reprimanded Remus tiredly.