Beginnings: The Tests of Youth

by Typothetical

Of friendship and betrayal, of love and laughter, of war and growing up. The Marauders' story – from the very beginning. Canon-compliant.

27. 3-6 or 'There's a War On, After All'

A/N: Greetings! I'm excited to share this one today. It's probably my favorite chapter I've written, and it's certainly the longest. I debated splitting it into two, but in the end, it works better as one. Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Everything you see here is owned by J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

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Chapter 27 - 3.6 or "There's a War On, After All"

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The month of November 1973 would eventually go down as one of the more chaotic stretches of time in the Marauders' Hogwarts careers and, as per usual, when chaos and the Marauders collided, the entire school felt the effects.

For one thing, the war on Filch and his cat, Mrs. Newton, spanned nearly the entire month, culminating in a most unfortunate series of events that ended with James Potter and Sirius Black's first ever journey up the moving, spiral staircase and into the headmaster's office. For another, for the first time since starting school, the Marauders got a taste of their own medicine, courtesy of none other than the Gryffindor third-year girls.

It all started at the Halloween feast.

The boys arrived at the feast after most of the other students, as they had been hurriedly tying up loose ends on their latest plan. The Great Hall was entrenched in Halloween decorations, with the usual live bats fluttering above the students' heads, cauldrons full of overflowing sweets dotting the house tables, and giant glowing pumpkins scattered around the room. Due to their late arrival, the four boys had some difficulty finding seats at the Gryffindor table, but eventually found some space about halfway down next to the other third years.

"Budge up there, Goomer, and make room, will you?"

Goomer slid closer to Mary Macdonald as James and Peter pressed in next to him. On the other side of the table, Sirius and Remus squeezed in next to Raeanne.

"Where've you lot been?" Raeanne asked, piling parsnips onto her plate. "Lessons ended almost an hour ago."

James reached for the pumpkin juice and grinned at her. "Now Muller, do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

Raeanne froze and looked over all four boys. "Fair point. As long as you haven't been poking round in our dormitory again, I don't much care."

Goomer sloshed a bit of lamb stew onto the table and looked up at them all. "You've been up the girls' staircase? How'd you manage that?"

"What?" said Remus. "No, we have–"

James kicked him under the table and Remus fell quiet at once.

Raeanne took a sip of her drink and raised an eyebrow at James. "What were you doing up there anyway, you pervs? Taking a look at our knickers?"

"Aw come on, Muller," Sirius said, ladling himself some stew. "You don't give us enough credit. You think we sneak up to your dormitory and all we do is peek at your knickers?"

"What?" Mary Macdonald stared at Sirius, looking horrified. "What else did you do up there?"

"I don't think anyone would believe for a second that all you'd do is look," said Gin from next to Raeanne. Sirius leaned forward to get a look at her, but Gin's eyes were fixed on her spoon as it lazily stirred the stew before her. "Which is why I don't believe you two actually got up there at all."

Sirius chanced a quick, hesitant glance with James before smirking down the table at Gin. "Believe what you want. We were doing some reconnaissance. You'll suss out why eventually."

Gin shrugged, but said nothing, looking uninterested.

"Besides," said James, "how else would I know that one of you girls has a shrine above your bed dedicated to the Appleby bloody Arrows."

Raeanne choked on a piece of dinner roll. "What – don't tell me you're a Wasps supporter?"

"Only since the day I was born," said James smugly. "And I bet you, Muller, are the mystery Crappleby supporter, then?"

"I'd rather support Crappleby than Wimp-bourne," replied Raeanne easily. "And I don't think I can cheer for you on the Quidditch pitch anymore, Potter, knowing you're a Waspy."

James grinned at her. "Well considering you only support rubbish teams, I'd rather you not cheer for me at all."

"Did you look and see if she still sleeps with the photo of Jedidiah Cuffe under her pillow?" Goomer asked James, failing to conceal his laughter.

The boys all sniggered as Raeanne dropped her spoon with a loud clang and glared at Goomer.

"Jonathan Eugene Goomer, I am going to murder you in your sleep."

"Jed Cuffe?" laughed James. "Merlin, Muller, I gave you too much credit. That prat Cuffe is about the worst Chaser the league has seen in a decade!"

"Right, I've heard that one before," said Raeanne, still shooting daggers at Goomer. "Waspys are sore sports because he signed with the Arrows over them and has out-flown them three matches in a row."

"Plus he's gorgeous," added Mary, a dreamy look on her face.

Sirius sniggered and threw a piece of dinner roll at Mary, who snapped out of her reverie and turned a brilliant shade of red.

James swallowed a mouthful of potatoes heavily and frowned at Raeanne. "Cuffe's a dirty cheater. No player in the league gets away with more haversacking than he does –"

"Oh that's rich," Raeanne cut in. "And how many penalties for blatching did Bagman have called on him last year? Talk about getting away with dirty play."

"Come on Raeanne," Goomer said, laughing lightly. "That's your bias talking. No one other than Arrows supporters thinks Bagman's dirty."

"Did you hear something, Mary?" Raeanne said, turning bodily away from the boys, though the corner of her mouth twitched. "It sounded like a traitorous, former best friend was trying to talk to me but that can't be right, he wouldn't be that thick."

Goomer grinned and said lowly to James, "I should know better by now not to take up against the Arrows round her."

"Yeah but you support the Cannons, mate, so we know your common sense isn't tops."

Raeanne did not talk to the boys for the rest of dinner, but kept herself turned away from them and toward the other third-year girls. James, Sirius and Goomer continued the Quidditch talk, but both Peter and Remus remained quiet throughout. Sirius could tell they were nervous about the impending prank – Remus barely touched his food while Peter kept glancing up toward the staff table every minute or so, where Filch sat next to Hagrid with Mrs. Newton perched sentinel between his feet.

Sirius could understand their apprehension on this one. Out of all the pranks they had pulled in their time, they had never delved into the realm of magical creatures until now. When they had discovered the previous week that Professor Kettleburn had received a shipment of caipora on loan from Brazil, it had seemed at once both obvious and ingenious that they could kidnap some to let loose in the school. Caipora were furry little winged spirit-beings known for their cunning and absolute deviousness and were notoriously hard to control via magic. As caipora bared a distant genetic relation to the better-known pixies, the Marauders had been delighted to discover in their research that nothing attracted or stimulated a caipora more than pixie dust.

Which is why they had sprinkled a whole flask's worth of pixie dust on Mrs. Newton during break that afternoon.

The trickiest bit of the whole ordeal had been figuring out how to release the caipora at just the right moment – when the four of them were ensconced at the feast to deflect any suspicion. James and Sirius had finally mastered the magic behind a spell known as 'Hadrian's Ring' the night before, which would create a sort of magical barrier, containing the caipora within it until a precise, predetermined moment.

The puddings had appeared and that moment was nigh when something entirely unexpected occurred. As the students began digging into the blocks of ice cream, tureens of rice pudding, and bowl upon bowl of trifle, Dumbledore stood from the staff table and welcomed a troupe of dancing skeletons into the Great Hall to entertain the students.

"Brilliant," said Goomer as two dozen skeletons marched through the doors and began a synchronized line dance. "I had heard a rumor that there might be a performance tonight."

It was an amusing sight, to watch unencumbered human bones performing an Irish jig in unison. Within a minute or two, the music emanating from a magical gramophone in the corner became difficult to discern under the laughter and cheers of the students. Seemingly buoyed by the positive reception, the skeletons' dancing became more and more animated as they broke formation and dispersed between the house tables, their pearly, knobby bones gleaming in the candlelight.

And then it happened, and if the boys hadn't been anticipating it, they probably wouldn't have even noticed the handful of furry creatures zooming into the Great Hall toward the staff table, flying so swiftly that none of the other students was distracted for a second from the choreographed performance taking place in front of them…

The caipora went right for Mrs. Newton, who gave a terrified hiss and darted out from under the staff table and around the backside of the Slytherin table, the caipora hot on her trail. Two of the creatures attempted to cut the cat off by flying underneath the Slytherins – many of whom fell off the benches in shock – while the others went over the table, upending the platters of cakes and bowls of trifle in an impressive display of flying food. Sirius lost sight of the cat as it streaked across the hall, and the students' heads turned as they became aware, one by one, of what was transpiring. The teachers were on their feet now, wands out, but none of them seemed even to understand what was causing the commotion as even more caipora, released in waves by Hadrian's Rings, came pelting into the Great Hall. Dumbledore whipped his wand like a lasso, freezing one of the creatures in mid-air, right as two speeding caipora went flying directly through the rib cages of a pair of still-dancing skeletons, causing their bones to burst apart like a poorly-constructed house of cards. Sirius ducked as one of the skeleton's arms came flying toward them, landing with a squelch in the bowl of rice pudding that had been resting on the table in front of the girls.

The Great Hall was in an uproar. Filch was running around, batting at the attacking caipora with an old broom he had procured from who-knows-where while the other teachers worked to subdue the troublemakers with varying degrees of success. Professor Kettleburn – the kooky old wizard who taught Care of Magical Creatures (and who was, thus, the one responsible for not installing more stringent security measures upon his creature enclosures) – seemed to be greatly enjoying himself, laughing merrily as he froze a caipora that had buried itself in Hagrid's beard. The bats that had been peacefully fluttering near the enchanted ceiling during the feast were now panicked, swarming around shrieking students, who were trying to escape the melee or else sheltering themselves beneath the house tables. Puddings, bits of blown-apart pumpkins, and enchanted skeleton bones were flying in every which direction, and as a tureen of trifle came careening toward them, Sirius ruminated for the first time that, perhaps, this prank had not been thought entirely through.

"Oh Merlin," he heard James shout through the din. "Take cover!"

They all dove under the Gryffindor table just as the trifle was upended over their heads. Sirius got a good look at his friends. Remus's eyes were huge, and his mouth seemed frozen open in a horrified gape. Peter had what appeared to be raspberry jam dripping down his neck and was wiping it off hastily with the sleeve of his robe. James and Goomer were laughing heartily, and it was only when Sirius looked at the girls next to them did he start laughing too, as all five of the third-year Gryffindor girls were drenched in what seemed to be a mixture of rice pudding and pumpkin juice.

Raeanne scowled at them, wiping a glob of pudding from her cheek and flinging it at Goomer. "Don't you – don't you dare laugh, you prats!"

Exploding pumpkin guts rained down around them from above and they all ducked closer under the table, the boys still laughing unrestrainedly. On the other side of Gin, Adin and Lily both shrieked as Mrs. Newton skidded past them, pursued by four darting caipora, her frantic paws kicking up pumpkin innards right at the girls. Lily wiped the orange slime from her chin and looked right at where James and Sirius sat cackling.

"This," she said over the din, an eerie calmness to her tone, "is your fault."

"What?" Sirius shouted between laughs. "How in Merlin's name can you blame us for this, Evans?"

"Oh don't even try to play innocent. This has both of your names written all over it."

The boys ignored her and continued laughing, which seemed to do nothing but annoy the girls even further. Sirius had just turned to ask James's opinion on the best route for escaping the Great Hall when a great splat of something cold and wet hit him in the side of the head. He spun around just in time to watch as Lily's arm pulled back once more to sling another handful of custard and whipped cream (vestiges of a delicious, ruined trifle) toward the boys, the goop landing with a splatter in James's face, obscuring the lenses of his glasses in globs of muck. There was no time to even consider what was happening before the other girls joined in, hurling rice pudding and trifle and bits of pumpkin toward the boys, who did their best to scamper away from the onslaught, but seeing as how they were all huddled under the house table, they did not get very far.

And then it was all-out war. Realizing that avoidance at this point was futile (not least of which because they were all pretty well covered in food anyway), the boys attacked back. The girls shrieked and scattered out from under the table and the boys followed, emerging back into the hall that had descended into bedlam in the minutes since they had taken shelter. The Gryffindors did not miss a beat in hurling anything they could find at one another; it did not take long before Davey Gudgeon was hit in the face with a sizable glob of ice cream (thrown by either Adin or Peter, it was difficult to say), and once the seal had broken, all of the other Gryffindors joined in, followed by the Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws, and even the Slytherins. Food was flying in every direction, girls were shrieking and trying to cover their hair as boys poured goblets of pumpkin juice over their heads, students were slipping and sliding in the mess as they attempted to make quick escapes into the entrance hall, and as Sirius and Remus chucked handfuls of pumpkin guts at each other, Sirius laughed about as hard as he had ever laughed in his life.

There was a bang that shook the stone floor and everyone froze and stared up at the staff table, where Dumbledore had just shot several purple fireworks toward the ceiling.

"Enough!"

Silence reigned. Sirius lowered the arm that had been about to shove a piece of pie into Gin's hair and stared at the headmaster. Frozen caipora littered the mess-covered house tables. A lone skeleton remained dancing next to the Hufflepuff benches, its legs clicking together loudly in the otherwise silent hall. Filch was trying to coax Mrs. Newton out from behind the magical gramophone, where she cowered, trembling.

Dumbledore looked shockingly calm, perhaps unaware of the glob of custard that was slowly slipping down his hat.

"Prefects will lead their students back to their common rooms at once. No more funny business will be tolerated. Off you go."

Whispers and muffled laughter filled the Great Hall as the students began toward the exit, trying to wipe food out of their hair or off of their robes and shooting quick glances at the professors as if worried that the lack of punishment was some sort of ruse. Shocked that they had somehow managed to escape the whole ordeal with no detention, the boys did not speak much as they marched through the castle, and it was only when they were back in the safety of their dormitory and Goomer had disappeared to wash up that the four Marauders looked around at one another incredulously.

"That was…" Peter trailed off, apparently at a loss for words.

"A bloody riot," answered James, trying to scourgify the streaks of custard off of the lenses of his glasses.

"Absolutely brilliant," Sirius agreed.

"A disaster," Remus countered, peeling dried pumpkin guts off of his sleeve.

"A disaster?" James echoed. "Are you mad, Moony?"

"That was the most excitement this school has seen all year!" Sirius told Remus. Like a dog trying to dry itself from the rain, he shook his head back and forth, allowing little bits of rice pudding to fly out of his hair. "A disaster, my arse."

"And you know Filch is going to be the one having to clean it all up!" added Peter gleefully.

Remus looked torn. "I mean, sure…okay, it was funny, but someone could have got seriously hurt."

James snorted. "All right, fair, the caipora were a bit more stirred up than we had thought they would be, and the exploding skeletons added a touch of unexpected drama, but the food fight…"

James trailed off, a look of dawning realization breaking over his face.

Sirius pulled his stained robes over his head and looked at James strangely. "You all right, mate?"

"I just thought of something…"

"What?" Peter urged.

James was grinning now, clearly excited. "The food fight was not our fault."

They all stared at him. "Okay…"

"We didn't start the food fight. Evans did. Lily Evans is the one who started the entire thing."

None of the others seemed to find this realization nearly as interesting or entertaining as James did. He looked around at the three of them as if looking for support.

"Lily Evans," he repeated, trying to make them see his reasoning. "The girl who brews illegal potions under her bed and gives cheek to everyone – even the professors – and who hasn't ever had a single detention. She's the one who started the school-wide food fight, right under Dumbledore's nose."

"And we're the ones," Remus pointed out, pulling a clean shirt out of his trunk, "who put pixie dust on Mrs. Newton and nicked the caipora out of the creature enclosure and set them loose on the school during the feast."

James waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, but no one knows that."

"Evans knows that," Peter pointed out. "She said so before she started flinging custard at us."

"She has no proof, though." A dreamy, happy look settled across James's face. "Lily Evans. Merlin, I can't wait to take the mickey out of her."

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Over the next several days, James jumped at every opportunity to tease Lily for the trouble she had caused on Halloween, leading to a memorable altercation in Herbology on Friday afternoon. Professor Sprout, in an attempt, no doubt, to curb James and Sirius's usual antics by putting as much distance between the pair as possible, had made James partner with Lily and Adin on stripping a puffapod. Delighted to have the hour to needle Lily mercilessly, James had not objected to the assignment.

"Watch where you toss those seeds, Evans," he said in mock seriousness as she chucked a few of the shiny pink seeds into a small bucket on their table. "We know after Halloween that you've got rubbish aim."

"You're right," she replied out of the side of her mouth. "That bit of tart that hit you upside the head? I was actually attempting to lodge it down your throat and shut you up for good. Only…you know," she raised her eyebrows at him in challenge, "rubbish aim."

James chuckled. "Food fight instigator and a violent streak. I reckon I underestimated you, Evans."

One of the seeds that Lily had been trying to strip burst open in her fingers, and large, bright flowers bloomed across the tabletop in front of her.

"Careful, Evans!" scolded Professor Sprout, bustling over to their table and vanishing the flowers with a wave of her wand. "The flowers are useless, it's the seeds we need. Come now, you need to concentrate."

As soon as Sprout was out of earshot, Lily shot James an annoyed glare. "I reckon I underestimated you, Potter. I expected that you might shut up for two minutes to let us do our work unprovoked."

"Food fight instigator, violent streak, and now getting told off by professors." James tutted and casually tossed a handful of seeds one by one into the bucket. "Next thing I know, you're going to be sitting detention with Sirius and me. You're a right troublemaker, Evans, don't deny it."

She glanced across the greenhouse at where Sirius was now trying to propitiate Sprout with a bouquet of the useless flowers, to the general amusement of all around them. Sprout looked exasperated but vaguely entertained, and Lily jumped on the distraction to pull her wand out and point it under the table at James.

"I have one word for you, Potter," she said, blinking innocently at his smirking face.

"Only one? Wait, let me guess…hilarious? Charming? Brilliant? Downright fetching? Oh wait, no that's two…"

Adin laughed loudly and then tried to stifle it with her hand when Lily scowled at her.

"Langlock," Lily said, feeling the jinx shoot from her wand straight toward James. He made a strange choking noise and stared at her, incredulous, unable to say a word.

"What'd you do to him?" Adin asked her, looking torn between amusement and concern.

"Glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth," Lily told them both, unable to contain her grin at the look of indignation on James's face as his jaw worked to try to wrench his tongue free. "And if you let us work in peace, Potter, and leave me bloody well alone about Halloween, I might remove the jinx before the end of the day." James scowled and pounded his fist against the table in frustration. Lily only smiled. "And yes, you can add 'has a short fuse when bothered by obnoxious classmates during lessons' to your list of my troublemaking ways, but I promise you haven't even scratched the surface yet."

Lily left the jinx on James for the remainder of the afternoon, eventually taking pity on his pouting face in the Great Hall that evening and muttering the counterjinx so that the poor boy could eat some dinner. She regretted the decision almost immediately, though, as James pestered her so much that evening in the common room that she made an early retreat up the girls' staircase with an unsettling, conniving look in her eye as she pulled the other girls along behind her. James was quite sorry to see her go.

The next morning – Sirius's fourteenth birthday, incidentally – dawned bright but frigid, and the Gryffindor boys bundled up warmly in their cloaks and scarves before heading down to the Quidditch pitch to witness the much-discussed Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match. James always took a great interest in the inter-house matches, but Sirius had a fair bit of gold riding on the outcome of this particular match, and winning that gold, he had decided, would be a very pleasant birthday gift indeed.

They had kicked a few pouting first years out of the prime seats in the top row and had settled in nicely to the match when Goomer appeared on the stairs, looking rather lost as he glanced around at the crowd.

"…and a nice save by Stebbins there," Davey Gudgeon was saying, his voice magically amplified around the stadium. "Seems to be a good find by the Hufflepuffs this season, replacing the worthless Arnold Gump, who was Keeper for the last three years and captained the Badgers straight into the rubbish bin…"

A chorus of boos rang out from the Hufflepuff supporters, though it was rather half-hearted, as the Hufflepuffs knew better than anybody that Gump had indeed been a worthless Captain. Goomer seemed to give up on his search and turned to the other boys, a look of confusion on his face.

"You lot haven't seen Raeanne and Mary, have you?"

A quick goal from the Hufflepuff team caused a burst of thunderous applause and noise from the crowd. Remus shook his head at Goomer as James and Sirius high-fived each other.

"Not this morning, no. Maybe they're just running late?"

A crease crossed Goomer's brow as he began searching the crowd again. "They said they were getting breakfast with Lily and Adin, but that they'd meet me here. But I don't see them, or Lily, or Adin, or even Gin for that matter. Do you?"

Sirius tore his eyes from the pitch and looked around the crowd as well, but there was no trace of any of the third-year girls in the Gryffindor section that he could see.

"Why does it matter?" asked Sirius, unconcerned by their absence.

"You can sit with us if you'd like," offered Remus.

Goomer, though, shook his head, his eyes still flickering across the faces in the crowd. "Raeanne hasn't missed a Quidditch match in her life," he said slowly. He began making his way back down the steps, looking befuddled. Sirius did not give it a second thought.

"Who's that Seeker?" Peter asked James, his eyes following the sprightly Hufflepuff girl who had just performed an impressive maneuver to avoid a pelting Bludger.

James tore his gaze from the pitch for a brief second to smirk at Peter's gaping expression. "Florence Milligan. Not bad, eh? Sirius and I thought so too when we snuck into the Puffs' practice."

"Fourth year," Sirius added, too distracted by watching Florence Milligan to do more than applaud appreciatively when Hufflepuff scored again.

"Is she a good Seeker?" Remus asked James, who shrugged.

"Who cares?" said both Sirius and Peter at the same time.

"She's new to the team, so it's tough to say," James said. "She's a bloody fantastic flyer, though."

"And you know what they say about a girl who's good on a broomstick…" said Sirius, eliciting a few sniggers from the others.

"We play Hufflepuff last this year," James told them. "So we'll have time to scout her before she goes head to head with O'Shea."

"Well if you need help, er, scouting her, I reckon Peter and I are up to the task," Sirius said, elbowing Peter in the ribs.

"Oh yeah," nodded Peter eagerly as they all laughed. "I can do that. Scouting, I mean. I'm an ace scouter, I'll have you know."

Talk of Florence Milligan continued throughout the match, their comments becoming more and more suggestive up until the point when the witch in question made a spectacular dive across the pitch, emerging triumphant with the struggling Snitch clasped tightly in her fist. The Hufflepuff supporters went mad with elation at the win, and it wasn't until the boys had made their way out of the stadium, up the lawn, and back into the castle that Sirius's ears had stopped ringing from all of the hysteria. He didn't mind, though. Hufflepuff had beaten the spread, and both he and James would be getting a fair bit of gold off of Davey Gudgeon that afternoon.

"You know," James started as the four of them climbed the marble staircase, "I say we celebrate tonight. Celebrate Sirius's birthday, celebrate winning a sack full of gold…"

"Filch?" Sirius asked, despite already knowing what James had been thinking.

"Phase two of the plan?" Peter added eagerly.

James nodded, grinning at the three of them. "We've got the frog spawn ready to go. Things have quieted down since Halloween, we've lured him into a false sense of security…"

They all turned to look at Remus, expecting some sort of dissenting opinion, but he merely shrugged and raised his eyebrows at the three of them. "We wouldn't want him to get complacent, now would we?"

"That's the spirit, Moony," Sirius said, clapping Remus on the back. "We'll head back up to the dormitory, finish strategizing before lunch, then –"

"Sirius! Hey, Sirius!"

They all paused as they reached the top of the staircase and looked back at the call. Hurrying up the steps behind them, a folded piece of parchment clutched in his hand, was Regulus. Sirius stared as his brother approached, feeling both curious and suspicious. He and Regulus tended to have nothing to do with one another while at school.

"Hi," Regulus said once he had reached them at the top of the staircase, giving a hesitant half-smile to the group.

"Hi," Sirius replied, glancing back down toward the entrance hall, but, surprisingly, he could see no other Slytherins lurking about. It was a rare sight indeed to find Regulus not surrounded by his group of friends.

"Er, can I talk to you? It won't take long," Regulus asked, looking somewhat nervous.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said slowly, before exchanging a quick look with James and saying, "I'll catch you up in a minute."

His three friends started up the corridor, while Sirius and Regulus shuffled off to the side and out of the way of a pack of grumbling Ravenclaws. Leaning his shoulder against the stone wall, Sirius looked expectantly at his brother.

"Well," Regulus started, fidgeting with the parchment in his hand, "erm, happy birthday?"

His inflection made it seem more like a question than anything else, and Sirius raised an eyebrow, surprised that Regulus had even remembered.

"Thanks?" Sirius said, mimicking the odd inflection.

"Right," said Regulus, looking around the corridor distractedly. "Right, well the thing is," he took a deep breath and looked back at Sirius, "it's just that Mother has been asking a lot of questions lately. About you. And your mates."

Sirius sighed and turned so that his back was flush against the wall. "Yeah? What does she want to know?"

"She's still asking about Potter, you know, in every letter she sends me. It's getting rather stale." His fingers pulled at the corner of the folded parchment he was holding, and Sirius's eyes were drawn down to it.

"Is that a letter from her, then?" he asked his brother, nodding toward the parchment. Regulus nodded. "Let me read it," Sirius told him, making a swipe for the parchment, but Regulus ducked his arm quickly and stepped backward.

"No," said Regulus, now looking fretful. "It's not all about you, you know. It's private!"

Sirius tried again to grab the letter unsuccessfully. "Oh come on, if the old hag is asking after me, I at least should know what she's saying."

"Don't call her that!" Regulus tried to dance backwards away from Sirius's hand, but Sirius was too quick for him. He grabbed his little brother's arm and twisted it around awkwardly until Regulus cried out and ceded the letter.

"Ha!"

"Git," Regulus muttered, rubbing at his twisted arm, but he made no attempt to steal the letter back.

Sirius flicked the parchment open and leaned against the wall once more to read it.

"My Darling Regulus,

We have been assured by our contacts within the Department of Magical Games and Sports that they will be holding our tickets for next summer's World Cup, as you have requested. Top box, of course, and we've already booked lodging as well, so we won't be left in tents like filthy Muggle squatters.

All the same, your last letter has fallen on furious ears. Imagine our outrage at you – a Black – not making the Quidditch team when, no doubt, you were as qualified on the pitch as any in your House. It is of our mind that this Captain – this Selwyn boy – is unfit for the position he holds. The Selwyns have been attempting to get back in the graces of high society ever since that scandal involving Julius and the Muggle gardener. An owl has been dispatched to them and your father has already contacted the Board of Governors. I'd expect the Selwyn brat to be rightfully kissing the hem of your robes and begging your forgiveness any day now, Darling."

Sirius glanced up at his brother, whose eyes were turned downward, watching his foot move back and forth over the stone floor. He had not heard that Regulus tried out for the Quidditch team and was slightly surprised by the news. Prior to Hogwarts, they only had the chance to fly when they would visit their Uncle Alphard in the country; he supposed Regulus had always been more interested in the sport than he himself was, but enough to try out for the team? Sirius frowned slightly and went back to the letter.

Unfortunately, as the majority of the page continued in the same simpering, aristocratic vein as the first section, Sirius had difficulty reading it without gagging. He skimmed over most of the blather until his eyes found the section he was looking for at the end, just above his mother's closing valediction.

"I shall leave you here, dear Regulus, with another request to keep an eye on your brother, and to report back anything you may see or hear that is worthy – particularly, with whom he is keeping company these days. Does he still associate with the Potter boy? What of the half-blood you mentioned, or the Pettigrew child? (Nasty stock, those Pettigrews.) The Potters are of great interest to us, as they have secluded themselves intently from much of the high circles in recent decades, and we would like to better assess their appeals on certain matters. Narcissa claims that the boy seems to have little interest outside of causing trouble, and no doubt that is where he and your brother find common ground, but Narcissa's head has been elsewhere of late as she nears the end of her schooling, and I look to you, Darling, to keep me apprised.

We have enclosed a handful of Galleons for your use. Your father sends his regards.

Mother"

"Well," Sirius started when he had finished reading, "if it's not too much trouble, Darling, I'd prefer you not keep anything on me, much less your eye."

Regulus looked up as Sirius thrust the parchment back into his hand.

"Sod off," he mumbled at the gibe. "Did you see what she said about the World Cup, though? We'll be able to go again, it sounds like. I wasn't sure, what with it being so far away and all…"

"Big deal," said Sirius, unconcerned with the next summer's World Cup.

Regulus did not acknowledge the response. He seemed to be wavering about something, but then he added very quickly, "I want you to tell me what to tell her. I'm sick of her asking me about your mates."

"You want me to tell you what to tell her?" Sirius repeated, skeptical. "You mean you'll actually tell her what I want you to?"

Regulus shuffled his feet and glanced around the corridor before meeting his brother's gaze again. "I don't give a lick about James Potter, and even when you got back from staying with him last summer, she wouldn't give it a rest, but you were too…you didn't give her straight answers. I think she's going mad – I have to tell her something, so please, just tell me what to do."

Sirius blinked. He had indeed been brushing off his mother's questions about James since she had started asking them almost a year ago. They were always pointed and prodding, and he knew that if he had any hope of continuing to see James over holidays, he could not tell her the truth.

"Tell her what she wants to hear, then," Sirius said after a pause. "Tell her that of course the Potters care about blood status, they're proper purebloods, after all. Tell her James and I are such good mates because we commiserate about being stuck surrounded by Muggle-borns all the time."

Regulus looked at him strangely, but Sirius did not wait for a reply or exchange any farewell before starting up the corridor. He was several paces away when he heard his brother's correction. "Mudbloods, you mean."

There was a brief hitch in his step, but then Sirius glanced over his shoulder and nodded at his brother as he continued walking. "Right, sounds good, you'll tell her, yeah? It'll keep her off your back."

Not even waiting for a response, Sirius turned down the next corridor and out of sight. A long sigh escaped his lips as he strolled along with a quick gait, and he tried not to dwell on the decision he had just made to condemn James to his family's distorted ideals just so that he could have decent holidays. Though James himself had told Sirius on several occasions to voice this very lie, it felt dirty somehow. It felt almost treasonous.

It felt like it had the potential to backfire. Badly.

He made short work of the trek up to the common room and spotted his friends immediately at a corner table, where they were still clad in their cloaks and scarves from the match. It seemed they had only just beaten Sirius back up to the tower.

"What'd Regulus want?" James asked as Sirius sat down in the chair next to him.

"Apparently my dear old mum's been asking about the Potters again."

A brief look of surprise crossed James's features before it disappeared under a snort. "I'm starting to think your mum's a bit obsessed with me, mate. What, is she trying to marry me off to one of your cousins or something?"

"You know," Sirius said, pulling the crimson scarf from around his neck and pondering this suggestion, "I wouldn't put it past her. Sorry for you, though, as Narcissa's a stuck-up cow and Bella's mad as a clabbert. Given the choice, I'd take a clabbert over either of them."

"So what'd you tell your brother?" Peter asked, looking back and forth between Sirius and James.

Sirius drew his mouth into a thin line and glanced pointedly at James. "Told him he should tell her that you're a good little pureblood and that we commiserate about being surrounded by Muggle-borns all the time."

Remus frowned at him. "Won't she find out you're lying? Won't she be angry?"

"She's always angry about something." Sirius shrugged and then leaned in conspiratorially. "Besides, I'll come up with a cover if she finds out. In case you haven't noticed, Moony, I'm a good liar."

"It's brilliant," said James, pulling a thread loose from his scarf in a distracted sort of way. "Now you can come to my house again for Christmas hols."

Sirius grinned, burying any concerns he had about the whole situation beneath his elation at the idea of another Christmas at the Potters'. "If you say so."

James stood up suddenly and looked around at them all. "Come on, let's dump our cloaks in the room and get to strategizing. I've Quidditch practice this afternoon, so we'll need to make quick work of it to have everything straightened out by tonight."

They all nodded and followed James across the common room toward the staircase. Sirius's eyes were drawn to the couches by the fire, where all five third-year girls were huddled. Goomer, also still bundled in his cloak, seemed to be having a whispered conversation with Raeanne, who looked unruffled and almost as if she were on the verge of laughter. Mary sat next to her, fidgeting nervously with her wand; Gin lounged sideways in the armchair across from them, her hand speeding across what appeared to be a long letter; Lily and Adin were on the floor next to the hearth, and Sirius was surprised to find that both girls were staring back at them unabashedly. Sirius grinned at them before turning up the boys' staircase behind his friends.

He knew something was wrong when James opened the door to their dormitory, as both Peter and Remus froze on the steps just ahead of him, blocking Sirius's path.

"What in the name of Merlin's sodding…"

James's oath trailed off in a flabbergasted diffusion, and the other three craned their necks to see what its motivation had been, but James remained in the doorway, blocking their view.

"Oh you've got to be…oh, this is rich, just bloody rich…"

"What is it?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Move, will you?"

Slowly, James stepped forward into the dormitory and the others followed, gaping at the sight that greeted them. It was as if a powder blue explosion had taken place in the room. Every wall, from floor to ceiling, was plastered with posters of the same young, attractive wizard, waving and winking from his broomstick, and dressed unmistakably in the pale azure robes of the Appleby Arrows. The four boys surveyed the room in wide-eyed, stunned fascination, as if they had stepped into some other, unexpected dimension instead of their own dormitory.

"Who is it?" Remus asked quietly, his round eyes focused on one of the posters on which the wizard was performing a handstand atop his speeding broomstick.

"Cuffe," James growled. He seemed beyond words for a moment, and then expounded, "Jedidiah Bleeding Cuffe." He unglued his feet from the floor and strode to the nearest poster, ran his fingertips over the top edge of it, and attempted to tear it down. It did not budge. He moved his hands to the bottom, then the sides, trying to work his fingers behind the glossy picture, but was unable to find any sort of hold on it. He stepped back and then turned to look at Sirius, incredulous. "You don't think…there's no way they'd have the brass to…"

"Permanent Sticking Charm?" Sirius offered, trying to quell the pull of laughter that was tugging at his lips. The others gaped at him.

"No way," said Remus, shaking his head as if he had never heard of such a mad idea. "No one would permanently deface the school just for a silly prank on us."

Sirius shrugged, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at the poster that hung directly above Remus's bedside table. "Diffindo!" Nothing. He bit his lip, thinking. "Abducia!" Still nothing. James also had his wand out and was waving it with broad flourishes, but to no effect. He had just tried unsuccessfully to transfigure one of the posters into a harmless playing card when Goomer appeared in the doorway, gawking around at the sight that greeted him.

"What the…"

"Welcome to the new Jed Cuffe fan club, Goomer," quipped Sirius, again suppressing the amusement from his features. "Care for a membership badge?"

James pointed a finger at Sirius. "Don't joke. This is not funny."

But the incredulous expression on Goomer's face and the authoritarian sternness of James's command was too much for Sirius, and a breathy guffaw burst forth before he could stop it. Peter, too, started laughing, Remus bit at his lip to keep his smile subdued, Goomer continued to gaze around with the same shocked look on his face, and James started pacing, glaring at the lot of them.

"This is not funny! Cuffe…this nauseating blue all over our room…stop laughing…those sneaky wenches…"

And without another word, James strode from the room and hurried down the staircase, the others following in his wake. The girls had not moved from their seats near the fire, and all but Gin looked up at the boys as they approached.

"Hi Potter," Lily said, a broad smile on her face as she blinked up at James. "Something bothering you?"

"You!" James said loudly. Several nearby Gryffindors turned to stare. "You're a shifty little devil, Evans. This has your cheek all over it."

Lily and Adin both stood up from their spots on the floor, Lily looking very pleased with herself and Adin rubbing at the back of her neck in a way that signaled that she had not wanted to be a part of the plan at all. Lily dusted off her robes and then crossed her arms over her chest. She stared James down. "Prove it."

"No – wait a minute," said Goomer, leaning over Raeanne so that their faces were level and narrowing his eyes. "I knew there was something going on. You never miss Quidditch matches. This was you! Raeanne Eloise Muller, what would your mother say?" Raeanne just grinned innocently into his face. Next to her, Mary was determinedly not meeting anyone's eye, a guilty, uncomfortable expression on her flushed visage. Sirius glanced at Gin, whose quill was still moving across the parchment in her lap, her ink pot resting precariously on her bent knee. Her disregard of the entire situation was too direct, too obvious, and suddenly, Sirius realized something.

"It was all of them," he told the group. "All five of these witches had a hand in this deviousness. Let me think for a moment." Everyone stared at him and he looked around at the girls one by one, a light chuckle slipping from his lips. "We all know who the mastermind was." He turned to Lily. "Titchy over here has been waiting to pull one over on us for ages. Don't deny it, Evans." Lily arched an eyebrow at him but remained silent, her arms still crossed over her chest. Sirius turned to Raeanne. "Muller provided the ammunition, that much is obvious. She wanted to show up James for trashing on Appleby, and she wanted to get back at Goomer for telling the world she fancies that ponce Jed Cuffe. Maybe a bit heavy-handed, Muller, your subtlety could use some work."

Raeanne snorted. "Says the bloke who set a load of caipora loose on the Halloween feast."

Sirius ignored her and turned now to Adin, who appeared to be trying to conceal her mortification with an inexperienced look of faux-innocence. Sirius grinned. "Balini, you didn't want in on this. I can tell because you have the same expression on your face that Remus usually has when we force him to do something he's not keen on. You were the financier, were you not? No doubt a rush order on all of those posters would have cost a shiny Sickle. Way to put all that old pureblood gold to good use, Adin." The girl in question flushed and tossed her hair haughtily, but Sirius had already moved on to Mary, who was sitting stock-still and avoiding everyone's eye.

"Macdonald would have been your researcher. She's the swottiest of you lot, best at Charms isn't she, so she probably would have also been the one to perform some of the trickier wandwork. Permanent Sticking Charms aren't third-year-level magic, and there also had to at least be a few duplication charms used to cover all the walls like you did. Impressive Macdonald, Flitwick would be proud…"

"Permanent Sticking Charms?" Goomer repeated, wide-eyed and horrified. "You mean, we're going to have to live with those things hanging in our room forever?"

"You wouldn't," James said to Lily, whose lips were still quirked in an insolent smirk. "You wouldn't deface the school like that, no way…"

"The professors will find out!" Goomer argued with no one in particular. "If it's permanent, we won't be able to hide that forever!"

"And that leaves Gin," Sirius continued as though there had been no interruption, stepping over to the chair where Gin sat so that his shadow fell across the sheet of parchment she was still scribbling on. She looked up at the intrusion as if she had not even noticed there was a conversation going on around her.

"Can I help you?" she asked innocently, capping and removing the ink pot from her knee before sitting up straight. She glanced around at her classmates, and despite the closed expression, Sirius noticed a faint blush creeping up her neck and he smirked triumphantly.

"You're the wild card," he said to her. "And I can't quite figure out the role you must have played in all this."

"Well," she said slowly, taking a deep, solemn breath, "I guess I'm the insurance."

"The what?"

She blew on her parchment lightly and then blotted the letters with her finger, inspecting it to confirm the ink was dry before rolling it into a tight scroll. Following this demonstration, she stood and stretched before looking Sirius in the eye.

"The insurance," she repeated. Everyone stared at her, and Lily bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. "Or the one with the idea for the insurance, anyhow. You see, James is right. No one in their right mind would permanently vandalize the school like that, it's just not sporting. It's not a Permanent Sticking Charm, it's a Guarded Sticking Charm. The posters need a password to unstick."

"You're taking the piss," James said. "A Guarded Sticking Charm? I'll eat my broom if that's even a real spell."

But Sirius thought instantly of their password-protected Animagi books and found the idea of a Guarded Sticking Charm to be incredibly likely.

"Let's just say, hypothetically, that you're right, Black," said Lily, exuding a confidence and mischievousness that made it quite evident that none of this was hypothetical. "Let's imagine that Gin came up with the idea for insurance. Maybe those posters will stay up on your walls until we leave Hogwarts. Or maybe, if some people –" She looked pointedly at James. "– stop pestering us about food fights and illegal potions and anything and everything one can find to pester us about, the password might be supplied to you at the end of the school year."

"But," continued Raeanne, looking positively giddy, "hypothetically, only one of us would know the password. And none of you boys know which one of us that is. And if anything foul should befall any of us – if any pranks are played, for instance, or if anybody who shouldn't be there steps foot in our dormitory, you see – that password won't see the light of day for another four years."

Gin was now packing her quill, ink, and scroll neatly into her bag. She slung it over her shoulder before looking around at the other girls. "Right, I'm famished. Anyone fancy walking down to lunch?"

All four of the other witches agreed eagerly and followed her out of the portrait hole, Raeanne squeezing Goomer's elbow jokingly as she passed by. The boys stared as the portrait hole swung shut and then a clamber of high-pitched laughter was heard from outside of it. Without a word, Goomer stumped away and up the staircase, no doubt to go inspect the vandalized room more closely. The Marauders were left alone in front of the fire, staring at one another in amazement. James, in particular, looked like he had been hit in the back of the head with a Bludger. He sat down heavily on the vacated sofa and ran a distracted hand through his unruly hair. Sirius sank down next to him and stared into the fire, a goofy grin taking up residence on his face.

"I think I'm in love," he said airily. They all turned and gaped at him.

"What?" James yelped. "With who?"

"With any of them," Sirius answered, his grin now turning into chortles. "With all of them. Insurance, I tell you, it's so bloody brilliant I can't even be angry." He was laughing fully now, and the others watched him with wary expressions, until both Remus and Peter broke and joined in. A sharp snort by James was followed by a few exasperated chuckles and a shove to Sirius's shoulder.

"What are we going to do?" Peter asked between giggles. "We're not going to hex them or anything, are we?"

"I'm not hexing any of those girls," Remus said at once, looking positively alarmed at the idea.

"Yeah, you heard what they said," James agreed. "If we go after any of them, we'll be staring at Jed Cuffe before bed every night until we finish our N.E.W.T.s."

"We'll find something to cover those posters with," Sirius said, settling down from his bout of laughter. He stood up and stretched. "Let's get some lunch, shall we? And then we'll get back to Filch. We can't let those tricky witches derail all of our plans. There's a war on, after all."

And as they all paraded across the common room and through the portrait hole, James nudged Sirius in the ribs and grinned widely at him. "Insurance," he repeated, shaking his head in wonderment.

Sirius laughed again. "Bloody brilliant."

---

Over the next few weeks, James relented in his constant badgering of Lily – distracted both by the ongoing war with Filch and his preparations for the upcoming Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match – and an affable truce seemed to be struck between the boys and the girls. The girls reveled in their victory and in their own ingenuity, and all of the boys would be caught at one point or another watching them wondrously, as if they were some new species that had just been discovered living in the back garden. The Monday after the Jed Cuffe prank, Sirius slipped Gin another note after Potions, and the two spent nearly a quarter of an hour together that evening, hidden in the long shadows of the trophy room.

The jokes on Filch became wilder and wilder throughout the month, beginning with frog spawn graffiti splashed on the corridor wall across from his office every morning for a week ("We will not stand for this tyranny!" "Down with the caretaker!" "Injustice, thy home is Hogwarts!"). A few days later, lessons were disrupted thoroughly when all of the suits of armor in the third floor corridor mobilized into a battalion and began chasing Mrs. Newton through the dungeons. Two mornings after that, the students in the Great Hall were roused from their breakfasts by much banging and shouting from Filch's private quarters, where the beleaguered caretaker had been trapped by a hearty stone wall which concealed the door to his rooms and which had evidently been constructed at some point during the night. All the while, a couple of pesky caipora had still not been apprehended from the Halloween debacle, and every few days, shrieks could be heard as one might fly through the corridors or the library, wreaking havoc on unsuspecting students.

Everyone, from the students to Filch to Dumbledore himself, seemed to know exactly which students were the cause of such mayhem, but as none of Sirius, James, Remus or Peter had been caught in a moment of wrongdoing, no punishment was just. This seemed to unhinge Filch even further, and by the last week in November, he had begun muttering to himself in the corridors and rapping credulous students on the shins with the handle of an old worn mop.

The last Sunday in November found Sirius alone and huddled happily on the ledge of roof that hung above the third-year boys' dormitory window. He and James had discovered the spot earlier in the term and Sirius had wasted little time in transfiguring some tied bed sheets into a rather dependable ladder that hung near the window and allowed him the ability to access the ledge without need of a broomstick. Remus had turned rather fretful at the discovery and at Sirius's insistence that they all visit the ledge whenever time allowed for it; Peter shook so intensely on his first trip up the ladder that he was unable to descend and James had had to fetch his broomstick for Peter to fly down on; James enjoyed the spot, but seemed to grow bored of the view and had not taken to the location with quite the gusto of his best mate. Goomer either did not notice the tucked away ladder, or was clever enough to not question it.

Sirius, though, loved the view of the grounds and the mountains in the distance, loved having a spot that they could call all their own, loved performing just enough of a Warming Charm to still feel the cold wind on his face, and loved the thrill of the ladder, the danger that lurked in one missed step or one slipped rung.

He had left his Muggle Studies essay until the last minute, and was now regretting it, as he sat poring over his copy of Muggledom in a Magical World and trying to wrap his mind around the concept of something called a "cinema." Sighing and admitting defeat, Sirius snapped the book shut and stretched his stiff muscles. A few snowflakes landed on the cover, melting into peaked droplets, and, noting glumly that his Warming Charm was fading fast, he tucked the book in his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and descended the wobbly ladder. The dormitory – which now had a few more suitable Gryffindor banners and Wasps posters covering a portion of the Appleby blue – was empty when he pulled himself through the window, so he headed for the stairs, hoping to find either Remus or James in the common room. The former, he supposed, might be able to explain the concept to him; the latter, he reasoned, would allow him to copy his own paper. Either would do.

Unfortunately, none of his friends could be spotted in the bustling common room. Remus and Peter had retreated to the library many hours before and did not appear to have resurfaced. James, who had been dour ever since the Gryffindor Quidditch team's loss to Slytherin the prior morning, had disappeared to sulk on his own. It had been his first defeat as a member of the team, and his innate over-confidence and extreme competitiveness had rendered him rather dejected by the result. Sirius was just considering going to track James down when he spotted Lily and Gin working quietly at a table in the corner and he was overcome by a more agreeable idea.

"Evans," he said amiably as he pulled a chair over to their table and swung himself onto it, so that his arms rested on the bridge of the backrest. Both girls looked up at him curiously. "You're Muggle-born."

Lily blinked at him and then bowed her head once again over her copy of Brethren of Magical Beings and Their Creature Comforts. "You've known me for more than two years, Black." She pulled what appeared to be a candy bean from a small parcel on the table and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly before adding, "And I know for a fact that you are not just now realizing that I'm Muggle-born."

Sirius turned to Gin, who was watching him curiously. "Gin," he greeted, nodding toward her.

"Sirius," she responded in turn. She gave him a small smile and he was distracted for a moment by the memory of their time in the trophy room. He cleared his throat before focusing back on Lily.

"Right, I mean, yeah, I know you're Muggle-born, but I was wondering…" He reached below his chair into his bag and pulled out Muggledom in a Magical World. Lily's eyes flickered up to the book as he dropped it onto the table. "Have you ever been to – to a cinema before?" The words had come out more hesitant and childlike than he had intentioned, so he quirked his mouth into a winning smile when Lily looked back up at him, surprised.

"A cinema?" she repeated, clearly under the impression that he was playing some sort of joke on her.

"Yes," he said, flipping the book open to the page that showed a large screen with hand-drawn, moving pictures. "Am I not saying it properly? Sin-eee-mah?"

Lily bit her lip, perhaps to keep from laughing, and if she were not a girl, Sirius would have given her a quick cuff to the arm in response to the patronizing look.

"You're saying it right." She marked her page in her own book and then leaned her forearms onto the table, now giving him her full attention. "Cinema. Yes, I've been to the cinema before. I've been dozens of times. It's a common pastime for Muggles and it's still good fun, even now I know I'm not a Muggle."

"Well I don't get it," Sirius announced, clearly insinuating that the issue was not with his intelligence, but with the ludicrous idea of a cinema.

Now Lily's smile was nothing but kind. "What don't you get?"

"This!" he said, flipping a page and jamming a finger toward a drawing of a complicated metal contraption. "It says here in the caption that it's an eight millimeter film reel projector, but I know these – these cinemas – they run off of electricity, and we've already learned about that, about wires and plugs and volts. But this here – er – film reel, it looks to me like a camshaft gear in a motorbike engine, and I'm learning all about motorbike engines now, you see, and they don't run on electricity at all. They run on petrol, which you get out of a pump, not a plug. And," he added, barely taking a breath before flipping the page back and spinning the book around so that Lily could look at it right-side-up, "it says that these filmy-things show real people on them, like in photographs, but these aren't real people at all. These look like comic people, like in The Adventures of Dino Danger, which no wizard in his right mind would think was actual people. Somebody drew those comics, and it's downright barmy to suggest otherwise."

He finished his rant with a single head nod that suggested no one would ever fault this impressive logic. Lily's eyebrows had crept so far up her forehead that they had all but disappeared beneath her hairline, and Gin was smiling at him with an amused twinkle in her eyes, having paused in labeling what appeared to be a sketch of a kneazle.

"Let me get this right," said Lily. "You aren't even sure how to pronounce 'cinema,' but you know what a camshaft gear is? I don't even know what a camshaft gear is."

"I'm still trying to figure out how it works in the engine," he told her, frustrated by the thought, "but I know what one looks like and it looks a lot like this." He pointed again at the illustration of the projector.

"Well I'm no expert in the mechanics of film projectors," said Lily, moving her nose closer to the book and studying it for a moment. "I'd say that circular bit there is the reel, which I think has the film tape spun around it."

"The film tape?" Sirius spun the book back around so he could study it again. "Like Spellotape?"

Lily shook her head and leaned back in her chair. "Er, no. The film tape is what all the tiny little photographs are stored on. And then the reel runs it through very quickly, so it looks like everything is moving. Muggle photographs don't move on their own like wizarding photographs do."

"Can we take a step back," Gin cut in, alight with mirth, "and revisit this revelation that you read Dino Danger comics?"

"Er," Sirius faltered. "Maybe once or twice. Ages ago. Regulus was the big Dino fan in our house, and he'd yammer on about them and shove the new issues up under my nose to show me the pictures." He pursed his lips at both of their amused expressions and rolled his eyes. "Can we get back to the point here? So the tape that goes around the camshaft reel…"

"Just 'reel,'" Lily corrected.

"Right, this tape goes around the just-reel that looks like a camshaft gear and has little frozen photographs on it and when they all go in sequence, it makes moving pictures, right?"

Lily nodded and popped another bright red bean into her mouth. She offered one to Gin, who declined, but did not present the bag to Sirius, who was drumming his fingertips on his forearms, still crossed lazily on the back of the chair.

"So what do they do?" he asked her.

"What do what do?"

"The photographs? If they can't move on their own, and they only are giving the illusion that they can move because there's a bunch of them flashing past faster than a speeding top-line Comet…well, what do they do? Do they talk to you like a portrait does?"

"Well, no, they don't talk to the audience usually. The characters talk to one another to create stories. Have you ever been to the theatre? It's play-acting, like that."

Unwillingly, a childhood trip with his parents and cousins to a stuffy old theatre off of Knockturn Alley emerged in his mind – gaudy lettering spelling out "The Wants of the Wicked" across a marquis and a drama about an evil, Muggle girl who had tricked her suitor into believing she was a witch in order to steal his magic, culminating in a horde of angry Muggles burning both of the lovers at the stake. The wizard had survived, while the Muggle girl died in a harrowing scene of exaggerated wailing. Sirius had been eight-years-old. Regulus, only seven himself, had found the dangerous end of their father's wand that night when he had dared to sympathize with the murdered Muggle. His nightmares had brought him to Sirius's bed for several nights thereafter, and it was the one time Sirius could remember allowing his terrified younger brother to kip with him with no reproach.

"Sure," Sirius said easily, fashioning his expression into one of impassivity to conceal the torment of memories that had just surfaced. "So it's like the theatre, is it? Sounds dead boring."

"Oh it's not, it's great fun," interjected Gin. Sirius spun toward her.

"You go to these cinemas too? What is this, some sort of club or something? You're not even Muggle-born!"

She grinned at him and shrugged. "But my mum is, and she loves the pictures, and she's mad about all those old movie stars, and especially the musicals. She took me to see Caberet last year –"

"Oooh, I like musicals too!" interrupted Lily, now looking much more excited about the conversation. "Singin' in the Rain, and The Sound of Music, and Guys and Dolls…"

"Singin' in the Rain is one of Mum's favorites." Gin wrinkled her nose in an obvious disagreement of taste. "I'm not keen on all the dancing."

"Dancing?" Sirius repeated, looking back and forth between the two witches. "There's dancing in these things?"

"Sometimes," said Lily. "Sometimes there's singing and dancing, but usually not. It depends on what kind of film it is – if it's a musical, or a romance, or a children's film, or a spy film like James Bond…"

Groaning, Sirius sunk his forehead against his crossed arms in frustration – there was no way he would finish a sixteen-inch essay by the following morning at this rate. Perhaps he would be copying James's paper after all. If only the assigned topic had been on cars or motorbike engines instead of silly dalliances like cinema, he could have scribbled something down in an hour. He looked back up at the girls with a sigh when he realized that they were still prattling on.

"…for Sean Connery," Gin was saying. "I'm not sure I see it, but she says he's dashing…"

"My mum says the films are unseemly and won't let us near them." Lily tossed another candy bean into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Though I think Petunia snuck into Live and Let Die with her mates last summer…"

"I've only ever seen one," Gin said, accepting a bean herself this time when Lily offered again. "The one where he finds the starkers girl painted in gold –"

This got Sirius's attention. "Starkers? People go round starkers in these film thingys?"

"You should write about that in your essay, Black," Lily giggled. "Title it 'Muggles in the Buff.' Surely Lumpkin would give you full marks."

"Don't give me any ideas, Evans, or you'll be cited as a source." He paused and then added solemnly, as if making a profound statement, "You know, if there are girls going starkers, perhaps I should give the cinema a chance. You don't see that in the theatre." Gin snorted but said nothing as she picked up her quill and turned her attention back to her drawing. Sirius took a closer look at the parchment and frowned at it. "Why are you drawing a kneazle?"

"It's our Care of Magical Creatures assignment," Gin said, flipping through her textbook before settling on the proper section. "We have to do a sketch and label it along with our essay."

"Right," said Lily, shoving Sirius's Muggle Studies book back toward him and settling into her own once again. "And as much as I've enjoyed this foray into film discussion, we've got to finish this kneazle project or we'll be up all night." She squinted down at the text and positioned her quill above her parchment. "Now we've to list the ways one can track or lure a kneazle…"

"Here's the passage," Gin told her, pointing to a paragraph in the book. "Page 179…"

Lily flipped to it and began reading aloud. "Due to their unusually high level of intelligence, kneazles are not easily enamored of or distracted by the prospect of food, like many of their feline counterparts. While the kneazle may treat happily on a helping of doxy eggs or be enticed by a portion of lobalug meat, the scent that most captivates a kneazle is that of kneazle-nip, a flora first cultivated by Michaelea Herristrong to keep her breeding kneazles from coupling at all hours of the night. A mutation of the herb Nepeta cataria, kneazle-nip is of the greatest attraction to kneazles, and can be downright magnetic to normal felines, which have been known to track the scent from more than 200 meters –"

"My Uncle Alphard used to have a stray kneazle that roamed about his country house," Sirius interrupted idly. "It was a nosy old thing, always trying to steal into the house to have a poke around in our…" He faded off and straightened in his chair, a stroke of brilliance bolting through him and leaving him momentarily stunned.

"Er, are you okay, Black?" Lily asked, waving her hand in front of his frozen face. A gleeful laugh erupted from his mouth and within a second, he was standing and throwing his Muggle Studies book back into his bag.

"Thanks for the chat," he said, leaning down to swipe one of Lily's candy beans before striding toward the portrait hole. "And I'll remember your suggestion for the title of my essay, Evans," he called back to her. "'Muggles in the Buff,' was it?"

He heard the sniggers of several nearby Gryffindors but he did not pause for a moment before hurrying through the portrait hole and down the seventh-floor corridor. He had no idea where James had skulked off to, but he would search the castle from dungeons to towers if necessary – the idea was too alluring, too perfect to wait another minute before taking action. Excitement and adrenaline raced through him as he bounded down the shifting staircases, eyes peeled for the telltale sight of messy black hair; if anything could pull James out of his despondency, it was the promise of a good, old-fashioned jape.

It took him almost half an hour, but he finally spotted James striding down a corridor near the hospital wing, looking not nearly as dejected as he had been earlier in the day.

"Oi, James!" Sirius called out. James turned and paused as Sirius hurried toward him, slightly out of breath. "Where've you been? I've been all over the bloody castle looking for you. You know, there should really be a way to track people round this place."

James grinned and offered Sirius a view of his shoulder as the two started walking again. His black robes were singed and torn on his right arm, from elbow nearly to the collar.

"Got into it with Wilkes and Mulciber. They were waxing poetic about Slytherin's victory yesterday," he explained at the look of questioning that Sirius had sent his way. "Both are still in the hospital wing, I'll have you know. Two against one and I'm the one who Pomfrey released first!"

He sounded triumphant, but Sirius frowned at him.

"You've been dueling without me? Sod it, I've been up in Gryffindor Tower trying to figure out my ruddy Muggle Studies essay and you've been off having all the fun."

James grinned and shrugged as they pulled back a tapestry and started up a narrow staircase. "I imagine we can find you another chance, mate. Plenty of Slytherins nearby to goad into a nice duel. Snivelly, or Lestrange, or –"

"I've had an idea," Sirius interrupted, pulling at James's elbow so that he stopped his ascent up the staircase.

"Are you going to go on again about the one where we drain the lake and fill it with custard?" joked James. "Because we're good, but we're not that good, Sirius. That one may be a tidge out of our reach."

Sirius was far too excited about his idea to respond to the sarcasm. Checking up the staircase to ensure they were alone, he glanced at his watch and then leaned in conspiratorially.

"Listen, it's half three, and the Hogsmeade shops shutter at five on Sundays. Reckon we have enough time to sneak down to the village and to the Animal Emporium before close?"

"Probably," James said, pulling idly at the gash in his sleeve and frowning down at the singed fabric. "If Peter's not with us to slow us down. Why?"

"We've got to pick up some kneazle-nip, and I'm fairly certain the Animal Emporium will carry it. Come on." Sirius clapped James on the back and hurried off, taking the steps two at a time. "I'll explain on the way."

---

The payoff on Sirius's idea was frustratingly delayed, and Sirius and James spent the vast majority of the following day awaiting the moment they knew was imminent. The pair had awoken earlier than usual and had sneaked into the Slytherin common room by way of the Invisibility Cloak an hour before breakfast to sprinkle minced kneazle-nip into the pockets and lining of Dexter Selwyn's best robes. While originally they had planned to target Snape, Sirius had pointed out that it might be unwise to antagonize Lily Evans' friend when she still held the power of the Jed Cuffe password over their heads, especially considering it was Lily who had sparked this particular idea in the first place. James had scowled at this, but in the end agreed that Dexter Selwyn, as the captain of the Gryffindor-beating Slytherin Quidditch team, would be a suitable replacement.

And so they had waited. At breakfast, Sirius's leg bounced anxiously beneath the table as he dug into his eggs and peppered Remus with last-minute questions about his Muggle Studies essay. James, on the other hand, spent breakfast glaring at the still-celebrating Slytherins and biting into his sausage with rather aggressive vigor. Neither boy paid much attention in Muggle Studies that morning, too intent were they on listening hard for any sounds of discord elsewhere in the castle, and they both skived off History of Magic in order to shadow Selwyn during his morning free period, hoping that the moment would arrive while they were nearby to witness the hilarity. By the time lunch arrived, both were so annoyed by the long wait that neither Peter nor Remus was brave enough to engage them in conversation.

Fortunately, the suspense was alleviated during afternoon break. The boys were just making their way to the Transfiguration corridor for their final lesson of the day when a loud commotion on the floor below them caused them to stop in their tracks. Sirius and James's eyes had only briefly met in anticipatory glee before they were off, sprinting around the corner and down a shifting staircase before skidding to a stop in the back of a gathering crowd. There seemed to be some sort of scene taking place a little farther up the corridor – indeed, there was quite a bit of yelling and hissing – and both boys jumped hastily onto the plinth of a stone pillar to get a better vantage point.

"Geroff, geroff me you sodding creature…mother of…ARGHH!"

Dexter Selwyn was standing in the middle of the corridor, his dark hair disheveled and his robes in disarray as he flailed about, swatting at an attacking Mrs. Newton. The cat was darting in and out around him, lunging at his robes with vicious determination, spitting and digging her claws into the prefect's legs. Both Selwyn's school bag and wand were lying uselessly on the ground, and just as Selwyn made a grab at the latter, the cat aimed a hearty swipe at his face, drawing a clawed gash right across his pale cheek.

"Stand still, stand still, Dexter, and let me get a good aim at it!" shrilled a panicked voice from the front of the crowd. Narcissa Black emerged, pointing her wand at the cat, but Selwyn seemed not to have heard her, so intent was he on flailing about in an attempt to kick the frenzied creature. Unceremoniously, his kick went awry and landed with a crack against Narcissa's shin.

Narcissa let out a shriek and crumpled to the ground, groping at her injured leg. From his spot on the plinth, Sirius could not contain his snigger – he had been dreaming of kicking Narcissa for years. A few brave students toward the front of the crowd hurried forward to pull Narcissa out of harm's way, as Selwyn's scrambling had become even wilder and both he and the cat whirled around, the cat pouncing and hissing and the Slytherin swatting and cursing.

"Geroff…ow…you mangy…will someone stun this damn thing or what?" Selwyn was raving and lashing out now with all his limbs at Mrs. Newton, who lunged again and sank her claws painfully into his thigh.

Over the commotion, a distinct wheezing could be heard from the far end of the corridor, and both James and Sirius grinned triumphantly when Argus Filch emerged into view, surveying the scene with appalled confusion.

"My sweet, my sweet, what is the meaning of this? Stop…hold still you brutal boy, you'll only hurt her…stop!"

Neither the cat nor the Slytherin seemed to hear the caretaker at all and he hurried forward, trying to grab her as she darted and pounced. There was a look of utter fury on Selwyn's face now, and for a moment Sirius thought the boy might attack the caretaker, but the next second, a familiar voice cut through the corridor.

"Stupefy!"

It was McGonagall, emerging from an intersecting corridor and pushing her way through the crowd toward where Selwyn stood panting, his robes tattered and his face scratched, the stunned cat now frozen at his feet.

"What did you do to her?" cried Filch, diving forward to scoop up the cat. "Mrs. Newton! Mrs. Newton! What've you done? You've killed my cat!"

"I haven't, Argus," said McGonagall sternly. She glanced around at the crowd of students, eyes lingering for a second too long on the pair of boys by the pillar. "She's only been stunned. I shall wake her as soon as Mr. Selwyn here has taken leave to change his robes."

"My robes!" Selwyn shouted. "That mad cat attacked me out of nowhere, look at my robes!" Shaking in either fury or humiliation, he turned on Filch. "I'll have your head for this, you miserable old fool – yours and your bleeding cat's!" He did not make a particularly imposing sight, with his shredded robes and gashed cheek, and Filch just leered at the boy while cuddling the unconscious cat against him.

"That's quite enough, Selwyn," said McGonagall. She inhaled deeply through her nose and – much to Sirius's discomfort – her eyes seemed to flicker toward the pillar once more. "Head to the Slytherin common room at once to change your robes. I'll notify Professor Slughorn that you will be a few minutes late to Potions and I shall ensure the house elves take care to mend and launder your robes immediately." Selwyn did not seem to find this a just response to his suffering, but after a moment's glaring, he gave a curt nod and strode off toward the dungeons. McGonagall and Filch were now talking in low voices and the spectators began to disperse, laughing and chattering happily.

Peter and Remus were waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

"Why didn't you let us help with this prank?" Peter muttered to James, who shushed him and looked around hastily. None of them spoke again until a few minutes later, once they were safely seated in the back of the Transfiguration classroom. Peter and Remus, who were sitting directly in front of James and Sirius, turned around in their chairs and looked at the pair expectantly.

"Because we can't all fit under the cloak anymore," James explained under his breath. "And anyway, the two of you were holed up in the library all day yesterday."

"And who are we to disrupt your ardent studies?" Sirius added. Glancing around to guarantee that no one else was paying them any attention, he reached into his bag and allowed Peter and Remus a glimpse of a small, sealed vial containing a powdered, moss-colored substance. "But look – we've still got plenty of kneazle-nip to go round. If you really want in, Peter, we can let you and Remus lace Mulciber's pants tomorrow…"

James, too, pulled a corked vial out of his pocket and spun it around in his fingers before holding it out to Peter expectantly. Peter's head jerked around at the full classroom, and he waved off the vial, not wanting to be spotted taking damning evidence. James slipped the vial back into his pocket and winked at Sirius, who bit back a laugh. They both knew that Peter would never sneak into the Slytherin dormitories with only Remus as a co-conspirator.

"I'm not sure that was the best idea, targeting a seventh year," Remus hissed at them. "If Selwyn finds out it was you two…"

"He'll what?" asked Sirius with the air of someone who knew he was untouchable. "Swat at us? Shriek like a first-year girl? Seventh year or not, do you really think Dexter Selwyn could take James and me?"

"Really Remus, he couldn't even take the cat," James sniggered.

McGonagall's entrance put a stop to their discussion, as it was wont to do. Peter and Remus swiveled back around in their chairs and – as McGonagall was looking particularly brusque at the moment – none of them even attempted to steal whispers to each other during her lecture. It was only when the class had been instructed to begin practicing transfiguring a thrush into a wireless set that Sirius and James found it safe to converse again.

"– and she definitely said the girl was starkers," Sirius told James, keeping his voice low enough to not draw McGonagall's attention. "I forget the name of the picture, though. I'm sure it was James something…"

James poked his wand at the small wireless that sat on his desk, and the brown feathers that had been covering it disappeared at once. "Did she say if you could see the girl's bits or what?" he asked, clearly interested.

"She didn't mention, though it's not like that would interest her now would it?" Sirius whispered another spell and the bit of beak that protruded from the wireless in front of him stretched out into a long electrical cord, complete with a three-pronged plug at the end. He grinned at it happily.

"There's a Muggle cinema in the village at home," James said, dropping his wand on his desk and leaning back in his chair, content with the extent of his work. "We can try it out over the holiday. Maybe we'll get lucky and see something good."

"Mr. Black," came a curt voice from the next row over. Sirius started and looked up as Professor McGonagall advanced toward him and James. "What is that?" she asked, indicating the cord, which curled over the side of Sirius's desk and brushed the ground.

"An electrical cord, Professor," he told her cheerfully. "With a plug and everything!"

McGonagall stared down at the cord, a slight wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. "I believe the instructions were to transfigure your thrush into an exact replica of the wireless as illustrated in your textbook, Black. There is no cord – and certainly no plug – in the illustration."

"Ah, but Professor," Sirius said, grinning up at her and noting that most of the class was now paying attention to their exchange, "this is a much-needed improvement on the wireless from the book. You see, now it can be used in the magical world or the Muggle world." As if to illustrate his point, he pulled the cord between his fingers and began twirling it like a lasso.

Inhaling deeply through her nose as if steeling herself for something, McGonagall reached out and grabbed the plug to put a halt to the whipping motion. She placed it firmly on the desk and then fixed Sirius with an ominous stare. "Both you and Mr. Potter will remain behind after the lesson is over, Black."

"But Professor!" James protested. "My wireless is perfect, no plugs at all! Look…" Squinting his eyes in concentration, James plucked his wand up once more and gave his gleaming wireless a few light taps. The chorus of "Rockin' Robin" started blaring from the speakers. James grinned up at McGonagall as many of their classmates (Sirius included) started laughing.

"After class," McGonagall repeated loudly over the 'tweedle-dee-dees' coming out of the speaker. "Both of you." She waved her wand and both Sirius's cord and James's music vanished at once. "You may begin on your homework silently until the rest of your classmates are finished with their transfigurations."

And with another stern look at the pair of them, she made her way over to where Adin was attempting to keep her thrush from making a daring escape. Peter gave them both an anxious look over his shoulder but Sirius merely shrugged at him. Truthfully, he had no idea why McGonagall would want him and James to remain after class. Both of their transfigurations had gone above and beyond the expected work, and while they may have merited McGonagall's exasperation, they certainly weren't worthy of reprimand. So it was with great curiosity that he and James approached their professor's desk at the end of the lesson. McGonagall glanced up at them but did not say anything until the rest of their classmates had vacated the classroom.

"Right," she said, rising from her desk and straightening her robes before fixing them again with that same piercingly stern look. "Follow me, you two. We're going to see the headmaster."

The boys stared after her in shock as she made her way toward the door, and by the time they had regained their bearings and had hurried to catch up with her, she was already striding down the corridor. Remus and Peter, who had been waiting for them outside of the classroom, gave them confused looks, to which James waved them off and Sirius ignored them, his attention focused solely on the back of McGonagall's head.

"Professor," he said, hasting to fall into step with her, "why are we going to see the headmaster?"

James now flanked McGonagall's other side, frowning at her as he hitched his bag more tightly to his shoulder. "Is this about our wireless sets, Professor?"

"Are we getting a commendation for our ingenuity? Because I'm flattered, really, Professor, but I imagine Professor Dumbledore won't be as impressed by a simple Muggle electrical cord."

McGonagall breathed in deeply, as though fighting herself for patience, before looking down at Sirius out of the corner of her eye. "Your creativity in following assigned tasks is not the issue at hand, Black."

They turned down a rickety staircase that led to the second floor and it was only after they had all fallen into a line once more that James spoke again. "Is this about our Transfiguration marks, then, Professor? About how Sirius and I are best in the year?"

"Right," added Sirius. "You're not looking to move us up a year or anything, Professor, are you? Because we're perfectly happy flying laps round all the other third years, you know."

"Absolutely," said James, bobbing his head up and down. "Don't need any more of a challenge, us. We're all set. Just the right amount of challenged."

McGonagall appeared to be ignoring them, though her lips were getting thinner and thinner with every word they spoke and a vein at her temple seemed to have grown a pulse. She said nothing else until she stopped in front of a grumpy-looking stone gargoyle. "Sugar Quill."

"What do you – whoa," James said, as the wall behind the gargoyle split down the middle to reveal a moving staircase.

"Ooh," said Sirius, jumping onto the staircase behind McGonagall and looking around with great interest as the wall closed with a thud behind him and James. "Is this where Dumbledore lives, Professor? We've always wondered…"

James, too, was looking around in fascination as the staircase began its slow, spiral ascent. "And 'sugar quill' is the password," he said without thinking. "Good to know, good to know…"

The crease between McGonagall's eyebrows deepened and her frown became slightly more bothered than it had been the moment before. "The password shall be changed tonight, Potter. Don't get any ideas."

The boys just grinned innocently up at her until the staircase came to an abrupt stop in front of a heavy door adorned with a brass, griffin-shaped knocker, which McGonagall proceeded to lift and knock three times. The door swung open on its own accord and, eyes wide, the two boys followed their professor into the vast circular office.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Albus Dumbledore was standing behind an enormous, claw-footed desk, and appeared to have been dictating to a handsome quill, which was perched upright on a scroll of parchment and quivering as if expecting further instruction. He was smiling serenely at the visitors, and when McGonagall snapped the door closed behind her, he vanished both the quill and the parchment with a wave of his wand.

"Unfortunately, I do not foresee this as a pleasurable visit, Professor Dumbledore." With a few flicks of her wand, she drew up two straight-backed wooden chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk and nodded at the two confused boys. "Have a seat."

Sirius swallowed hard as he sat down on the uncomfortable chair and dropped his bag at his feet. He did not like the feeling that he was being put on trial, nor did he like the way Dumbledore was surveying the pair of them over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. Just as he had on the night when Dumbledore had caught them on the Quidditch pitch, Sirius got the distinct feeling that the headmaster was seeing straight through him. He averted his eyes to gaze around the office with interest. There were strange, whirring little silver instruments that sat upon spindly-legged wooden tables; next to one of the broad, arching windows stood an empty perch that Sirius supposed an owl might use; and circling the room along the walls were portraits of old, wizened witches and wizards, some of whom were peering down at the boys with interest, some of whom were snoozing against their frames.

"I don't know if you've heard, Headmaster," said McGonagall, moving to stand next to Dumbledore's desk, "but Dexter Selwyn of Slytherin had an unfortunate encounter with Mr. Filch's cat this afternoon."

"Oh I have heard about the incident, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore replied. "Mr. Filch was in here for the better part of half an hour, er, discussing it with me."

Sirius fought the instinct to glance at James, who shifted next to him. There was no way McGonagall could prove their culpability.

"Well then, that should make things easier." McGonagall waved an arm toward the two Gryffindors. "I present to you the guilty parties."

Both boys started protesting at once.

"What? You think we made Filch's mad cat attack that dolt Selwyn –"

"Us? Professor, how could you say something like that?"

"What an accusation! I'm hurt, Professor, truly…"

"That is enough." McGonagall's sharp tone was enough to shut them both up at once, though Sirius fixed his expression to suggest the utmost of innocence as he snapped his lips together. "I will give you both the chance, right now, to admit to your wrongdoing. I advise you to choose your words carefully. Lying shall not be tolerated."

James sat stock still and straight-backed as he looked McGonagall steadily in the eye, though Sirius noticed his fingers twisting the cuff of his sleeve, ever so slightly. Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the rigid chair, trying to appear casual as he bit his tongue to keep from saying anything incriminating. Dumbledore moved to sit down behind his desk, a slight frown appearing on his lips.

"Very well," McGonagall said after a moment, and Sirius's stomach flipped guiltily at the trace of disappointment on her face. "Accio!" With a squirm and a yelp of surprise from James, the small vial of kneazle-nip wriggled free from his pocket and zoomed into McGonagall's hand. Both boys watched in horror as McGonagall pointed her wand now at Sirius's bag, which was lying all but forgotten on the floor next to him. "Accio!" The second vial flew out of the sack and landed next to its twin, the professor's thin fingers closing around both vials.

"How did you –" Sirius began, before the realization hit him and he cut off with a shocked, "Oh!"

"Earlier today, someone took it upon himself to lace Dexter Selwyn's robe pockets with kneazle-nip. Mr. Selwyn was consequently attacked by no fewer than three of his classmates' pets, along with Mrs. Newton."

James stifled a snigger, but Sirius was fixated on McGonagall. "You could smell it! Because you're a cat Animagus, Professor! You could tell there was kneazle-nip in my bag and James's pocket!"

Both McGonagall and Dumbledore looked taken aback by the malapropos excitement. "The way in which I discovered your possession of the herb is not of your concern, Black –"

"You get to keep some of your animal senses, even when you're in your normal person form?" Sirius interrupted, too fascinated by this new information to care that he was in a heap of trouble. "That's brilliant, Professor, bloody brill–"

"Language Mr. Black!"

"Sorry, Professor," Sirius said at once, biting his bottom lip even as he grinned up at her.

"Let us get back to the matter at hand," said Dumbledore, speaking for the first time since the exchange had started. He reached out a hand and McGonagall passed him the two vials, which he examined closely. "James, Sirius – I have to admit that the evidence against you is rather damning."

James shifted again in his seat. "W-we could have that kneazle-nip for any number of reasons, sir."

"Indeed?"

Sirius nodded. "We could be studying its qualities for potion-making purposes, or for Care of Magical Creatures…"

"Neither of you is taking Care of Magical Creatures, Black," McGonagall said, her patience starting to show cracks.

"An extracurricular interest, then? We do like to go above and beyond in our studies, you know."

"Perhaps we should bring in Lupin and Pettigrew for a separate interview, Headmaster, to ensure that their stories align with Black's. Surely, if this kneazle-nip is being studied for potion-making purposes, Lupin and Pettigrew could corroborate."

"I didn't say that's what we were doing, Professor," countered Sirius at once. "I just said we could be doing those things –"

McGonagall closed her eyes for several long seconds before fixing them again on Sirius. "Then what, exactly, were you doing with the kneazle-nip?"

In the beat of silence that followed the question, both boys knew they were cornered. The least they could do was spare their friends.

"Remus and Peter didn't have anything to do with it," James said at last, his spine still straight and his chin in the air. "There's no need to get them involved."

"Well," said McGonagall slowly, "your loyalty, at least, is not suspect. So you admit, do you Mr. Potter, that you and Mr. Black have been working alone in your month-long assault on the school caretaker?"

"Now wait just a second!" James protested loudly. With an arched eyebrow from McGonagall, though, he shrank back at once. "Er, I mean, no, Professor, I'm not admitting to anything of the sort. All we've done is to lace Selwyn's robes with kneazle-nip. How should we have known Mrs. Newton would take such a shining to it?"

"As you said earlier, Professor," Sirius added, "neither of us takes Care of Magical Creatures, so it follows that of course we wouldn't know what would happen."

The vein that pulsed across McGonagall's temple seemed to double in size. "The kneazle-nip is the latest in a long line of unfortunate incidents that have befallen Mr. Filch and his cat over the last few weeks. Stone walls trapping him in his office, suits of armor abandoning their posts, caipora and food fights and –"

"Now how can you blame us for the food fight, Professor?" James asked indignantly. "The whole school was involved in that, and it's not as if we started it."

McGonagall regarded them both severely before retreating to her previous tactic. "Shall we see if your friends' stories agree?"

But this time, she had no evidence on them, so the threat held less heft. "That suits of armor bit was some O.W.L level magic," Sirius said, affixing her with his most charming smile. "We're only third years, you know. Do you really think so highly of us that you believe we could pull off a Locomotor spell to that degree?"

"What I think, Black, is that if the combined energies that the pair of you put toward causing trouble were instead put toward your studies, I can only imagine what leaps in academia you could make."

The look on McGonagall's face made it clear that she had not meant the statement as a compliment, but Sirius decided to take it as one. "Thank you, Professor, that's very kind of you to say." James stifled another laugh. "Now can you tell me what other traits of your Animagus form you keep as a human? Have you got nine lives? Excellent balance? Cats have great eyesight, don't they, so then why do you wear specs?"

At this point, Dumbledore seemed to have had enough of the back and forth, as he set the vials of kneazle-nip atop his desk and then raised a hand for silence. All three parties stared at him expectantly while he leaned his elbows upon his desk and pressed his fingertips together, considering the situation.

"We have no evidence to suggest that James and Sirius are behind the series of occurrences that has transpired in recent weeks, Minerva." As he paused, Sirius let out a small breath of relief which then hitched in his throat when Dumbledore turned his gaze again toward the two of them. "However, one of the benefits of the headmaster's post is that in determining punishments, my decision can be as proportionate to the extent of the crime as I see fit."

"Sir," said James, straightening his glasses, "I'm not sure I follow."

"Officially, James, the pair of you will only be disciplined for the wrongdoing in which you were caught." He turned back to McGonagall. "I'd say an appropriate punishment for the extent of the crime would be to spend every evening between now and the Christmas holiday shadowing Mr. Filch, wouldn't you, Professor McGonagall? It is one of his busiest seasons, to be sure, and I know that he could use two able-bodied young wizards to help him in decorating the castle, cleaning up after festive students, and tending to his many other duties during the evenings."

"I agree, Headmaster," McGonagall nodded sagely. "Very appropriate indeed."

"Every night?" James croaked in horror. "But Professor, what about Quidditch practice?"

"Part of a punishment, James, is having to forego our usual enjoyments," Dumbledore said. "You will have to miss any scheduled Quidditch practices between now and the end of term."

McGonagall looked less than thrilled with this development, but she jerked her head in agreement as James's mouth opened and closed silently in abject mortification. "Only three weeks remain in the term, Potter. It is probable that you won't fall so far behind as to be replaced on the team. Though in the future – and particularly after the loss from this past Saturday – I would hope that you would put the good of the Gryffindor Quidditch team ahead of your own sense of amusement."

"Yes, Professor," James mumbled, finally deflating in his seat. The sight of James looking chastised and dejected only worked to anger Sirius.

"Is that all then?" he asked brashly. "Or are we going to get some other disproportionate punishments on top of all that?"

"Mind your tone, Black, or we'll see just how disproportionate our punishments can get," snapped McGonagall.

"Black?" came a snide voice from behind them. Sirius whipped around at once to discover the portrait of his great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black, looking down upon him. His bleary eyes and slightly disheveled beard indicated that he had just been roused from sleep. With a sense of dawning, Sirius remembered Dumbledore telling him about this portrait during their previous conversation on the Quidditch pitch, though he had forgotten about that particular tidbit of information until right this very moment.

"Ah, well if it isn't my great-great-grandson," Phineas Nigellus said in a voice dripping with condescension. Sirius fought not to roll his eyes. The portrait had a brother in Grimmauld Place which never missed an opportunity to criticize him. "Been brought up to the headmaster's office, have you? I have to admit, I'm only surprised that it has taken this long, if your insolence and insubordination at home is any indication of how you treat your elders at school."

"Thank you, Phineas," Dumbledore said with a tone that was clearly meant to end the discussion. Face suddenly very warm, Sirius turned back to the headmaster, though he could feel Phineas's eyes on the back of his neck. "We are almost finished here, boys," Dumbledore continued, as if there had been no interruption. "Though before you are dismissed, I would like to instill upon you the impropriety of your actions against Mr. Filch. It does not do to antagonize those who are less privileged than ourselves, whether in fortune or talent. We expect more of two good and exceedingly bright wizards, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," James said at once, clearly admonished.

"Less privileged?" Sirius repeated, his lip curling at the injustice of it all. "But Filch is a fully-grown wizard, and he picked on us first!"

"Impudence!" Phineas Nigellus bellowed. "I shall inform you, Dumbledore, that nothing you say will have any effect on this brat of my flesh. He has brought nothing but shame to a noble line –"

Dumbledore held up a silencing hand and the portrait once again fell quiet. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room, Sirius stared off just over Dumbledore's shoulder and tried to steady the angry racing of his heart.

"Sirius." Dumbledore said nothing else until Sirius reluctantly met the headmaster's gaze, which was kinder than he was expecting. "Yes, Mr. Filch is a fully-grown man. But let me remind you that you can never fully know what another man is like until you've flown a mile through a storm on his broomstick."

Sirius swallowed and finally nodded, wanting desperately to get out of that office. "Yes, sir."

"Straighten that spine, boy, you look like a slouching Muggle tramp," sneered Phineas Nigellus. The crack of his father's wand flashing through his mind, Sirius straightened instinctively, but this seemed to only spur the portrait on. "It's a wonder your mother hasn't died of shame, having raised an ungrateful little miscreant such as you. In my day, you would have been thrown on the street like a common Squib –"

There was a clattering as James leapt up from his wooden chair, pushed it aside, and strode over to stand directly in front of Phineas' frame, his hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Shut it, you slimy, ponce-faced ninny! Sirius is twice the wizard you ever were!"

"James…"

"Mr. Potter!"

Phineas' face at once went from looking indignantly affronted to rather intrigued. "A Potter, eh?"

"That's right," James said, throwing his shoulders back. "Have you got an issue with that too, you ugly old shoe licker?"

Phineas scowled. "Well at least you've got some backbone to you. Another Gryffindor, I presume? Of course, there is a distinction to be made between common bravery and ordinary foolishness…"

"That is quite enough, Phineas," said Dumbledore, rising from his desk and striding over to put a calming hand on James's shoulder. ("Hear, hear!" cried a round, red cheeked wizard from the portrait next to Phineas.) "I shall have to request that you stop provoking my students or I will be forced to pull your curtain."

With a flick of his wand, a lush, red curtain appeared at the side of the frame, held in place by a golden-tasseled lash. Phineas eyed it warily.

"No need, Dumbledore," he said, his voice oily. Stroking his pointed beard with a silk-gloved hand, he surveyed Sirius with a sneer pulling at his lips. "I have suffered enough shame for one afternoon. Perhaps I will go visit my other portrait…excuse me…"

And with that, he walked into the side of his frame and out of sight.

"Professor," said Sirius. His hands were shaking, though from anger or humiliation, he could not say. "He-he'll tell my mother –" He glanced at James and tried to silently communicate his worry; anything to anger his mother or turn her against James would be sure to ruin their holiday plans.

"Unthinkable!" roared the portrait of a frail old wizard from behind Dumbledore's desk. "The portraits of headmasters past are honor-bound to protect any disclosures that are made in this office!"

"He will not report on the goings-on in here unless I direct him otherwise," Dumbledore confirmed.

"I think we are finished here," said McGonagall, in a gentler tone than before. Both boys shouldered their school bags and awaited further instruction. "I shall inform Mr. Filch that you will meet him in his office in one hour. That should give you ample time to get some supper before he puts you to work."

Dumbledore opened the office door for them, but before they could scurry back out and onto the moving staircase, he spoke once more.

"One final thought," he said. "Let's put an end to any silly feuds that you may or may not have had a hand in recently. I believe that you both are better than that. And remember that it is the impulses that you choose to act on and those you choose to ignore which determine the kind of men you are, far more than talent or upbringing."

Though his voice was serious, there was a cheerful lilt to his cadence. Sirius stared at the open door behind him.

"Yes, sir," James said earnestly.

Everyone waited. At last, Sirius jerked his head and met Dumbledore's penetrating gaze. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded back to him and ushered them onto the staircase. Neither James nor Sirius spoke as they descended the tower in tight spirals, nor did they speak when the wall split to allow them exit to the brightly lit corridor. It wasn't until they got to the entrance hall that Sirius pulled James aside, wanting a minute to regain his appetite before venturing into the Great Hall.

"Looks like our fun is up," he said dourly, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

James mimicked the posture and ruffled his hair in a distracted kind of way. "Reckon so. No more war on Filch, at any rate. We never even got to the one with the chandelier…"

"And three weeks of acting like Filch's own personal house elves. He's going to be torture, you know he will…"

"Plus no Quidditch for three weeks," James groaned. "Beal's going to murder me when she finds out. Avada Kedavra straight to the heart, courtesy of a hacked-off Quidditch Captain. Never thought that's how I'd go…"

"No Quidditch, no messing with Filch or Mrs. Newton, no messing with the girls because of the Cuffe rubbish, no messing with Snivelly because of Evans and the Cuffe rubbish…"

"Well," James said, bracing himself and grabbing Sirius by the shoulder to lead him toward the Great Hall, "we better enjoy dinner, mate, because the next three weeks are going to be about as much fun as a month's worth of snogging Slytherin's serpent."

Sirius laughed before he even realized it. It wasn't uproarious, was only an uneven chuckle, yet it surprised him nonetheless. But he shouldn't have been surprised really, because despite being told off by a celebrated ancestor in the headmaster's office, despite being caught red-handed with the kneazle-nip, despite a near month's worth of exceedingly tortuous punishment stretching ahead of him, he wasn't feeling too terrible. James had jumped between him and his great-great-grandfather and had called the man an 'ugly old shoe licker,' and that, Sirius decided, was what he could hold onto.