Encounters of the Future Sort

The Battle of the Moldy Fruit

April 1st, 1996

"So, what should we do now?" Sirius asked, hands behind his head, strolling at a leisurely pace as if he hadn't a care in the world and exploding cauldrons was an everyday occurrence.

"I dunno…we could go swimming?" James shrugged, also effortlessly carrying this unphased energy.

Remus glanced out a passing stained-glass window. "Er—I don't think it's exactly swimming weather."

"Oh c'mon, an ice-cold squid dip is good for the psyche, Moony." James grinned. "We do it after every practice—helps with aches and pains too."

"Good for the psychotic, maybe." Remus mumbled, tracing the long scar across his nose. He had a habit of doing this when reminded of uncomfortable physical activity. "But that's not what I meant. Look outside."

James knitted his brow. "What are you on about—oh." Raindrops were streaking down the stained glass in a spectrum of rainbow colors. "Strange. It was sunny just this morning…"

Sirius leaned in and pressed his forehead to the glass. The sky was dark, and rain was pouring from the clouds in biblical proportions, giving the impression it had been raining for hours.

"A bit chilly for swimming anyway," Sirius shrugged as if he were a sentient being that could snap his fingers and produce sunshine at will.

"It does seem odd…" Peter considered. "Must've come on suddenly?"

"Breaking news: the channel 5 weather report with Wormtail," Remus rolled his eyes.

"I think Moony's hungry," Sirius smirked. "He's reverted to eccentric Muggle references. We missed lunch—perhaps a trip to the kitchens?"

"Or we could go to Hogsmead," Peter squeaked, "grab a butterbeer?"

"Sorry, Pete…" Remus sighed. "Yeah, I could actually go for that right now."

"Nah," Sirius brushed away the possibility like a piece of lint on his shoulder. "As much as I enjoy seeing Moony tipsy, I hate smelling like wet dog."

"I have a bit of firewhiskey stashed away…" James eyes circled upwards, deviously.

Sirius stopped in his tracks. "You bloody git—I just asked you last week!"

"I was saving it for a special occasion," James shrugged innocently.

Sirius threw his shoulders back in pompous authority. "How dare you—I am a special occasion."

"Moony needs to blow off some steam," James clasped Remus on the shoulder. "That is a special occasion."

Sirius locked eyes with Remus. The former suppressed a grin and the latter flushed.

"Right you are, Prongs." Sirius nodded solemnly. "A special occasion indeed, let's see to it. To the dormitory!"

They were passing through a long corridor outside of the Charms classroom where a few students were gathered. A first year boy spotted them, and his jaw dropped.

"So, is it the same stuff as last time? That was delicious—"

"Hey, Prongs…" Peter whispered, noting the first year. "That kid is staring at you."

"Huh?" James' head whipped around. The gaping first year with sandy blonde hair quickly hid his face in a book. James, who had a head far too large for his shoulders, rather enjoyed admirers. After he'd scored 110 points in the last quidditch match against Slytherin, he'd become something of a celebrity to young, aspiring players among the houses. This fame had petered away since the new year, but he was still yearning for any opportunity that presented itself to relive this fleeting glory.

"Hello there," James approached him and grinned quite pompously.

The boy turned a deep shade of red and looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Er—did you want my autograph or something?" James asked, trying not to sound hopeful. He put his hands on his hips, stoically.

The boy looked half in awe, half confusion. "Um…no. It's just—you're Harry Potter."

James blinked twice. "No, I'm James Potter." The boy knitted his brow. "You know, I won that match against Slytherin last term—chaser for Gryffindor?"

"You mean seeker," the boy corrected factually. James raised an eyebrow and the boy blushed again before shoving his nose back in his book.

James turned to his friends, ego getting the best of him. "Who is this little bloke?"

"Dunno mate," Sirius shrugged, rounding on the first year and crossing his arms. "What's your name, then?"

"Sirius," Remus admonished from the sidelines. He tapped the shiny "P" on his robes.

"I just asked his name, Moony." Sirius held intimidating eye contact with the first year. "So? Go on."

The boy seemed reluctant and quite terrified. "Euan Abercrombie."

"Never heard of you," Sirius raised an eyebrow, as if that was the only thing that mattered. He jutted his chin up the corridor. "Get lost."

Euan Abercrombie immediately complied, slamming his book shut and scampering away.

"Little git," Sirius muttered after him.

"Sirius," Remus massaged his closed eyes. "I really can't today."

"What did I do?"

Remus met his eyes with an eyebrow slightly cocked, then gently shook his head and sighed. "Nothing…never mind." And he strode off down the corridor.

"Prongs?" Sirius asked as the other three boys followed suit.

"Huh?" James said absentmindedly, his eyes dazed. "Do you really think he doesn't know me? I mean, really—a seeker?"

"We should all aspire to your level of fame, Prongs." Remus called over his shoulder. "It really does wonders for the ego—aaggghhh!"

A dungbomb had just flown out of nowhere and hit Remus square in the face. A spectral little man appeared through the wall at the end of the corridor, floating just above their reach and humming to himself.

"Potty Potter, he's a squatter!"

"Huh, that's a new one." Sirius mused, drawing his wand. "At least Peeves knows you, mate."

Remus was blinded by the dungbomb. "PEEVES! I'll call the Bloody Baron—"

"OH NO, no fun!" Peeves' grin widened. "If only he hadn't left me all by my ickle self to go and watch the Headless Hunt—ha ha HA!"

Peeves eyed the four boys mischievously before he began pelting them with dungbombs and what looked like moldy, rotting fruit. Sirius flicked his wand, but it was quickly knocked out of his hand by a flying apple, and Peter had taken shelter behind a tapestry. There was no running away from this one.

"Reinforcements!" Sirius shouted, shielding his face with his forearm.

"On it." James took off running down the corridor, yelling over his shoulder, "Stay strong, lads!"