Werewolf Fever

~*************~

Werewolf Fever

CHAPTER THREE:

Peter

A thick, velvet smog dredged the forest floor. Sirius's feet never seemed to touch the dewy ground; they stayed within the clouds. Mist tickled his ankles and lapped at his toes, assuring him that the night brought nothing but sweet harmony for him. Nothing may hurt him tonight. He was wrapped in the security of the canopy of clouds.

'Sirius . . .'

The voice drifted up his body, paused at his lips, and then travelled straight through him. Sirius shivered with excitement.

'Sirius . . .'

She was there in front of him. The one he was looking for. The one he had been looking for for years. A thin luminous mist surrounded the figure -- her translucent blue aura which swept around her feet.

Narrowing his eyes, Sirius took a step forward, cutting through the smog. She was dressed in turquoise robes which seemed to drift on the wind. The colour reflected off the mist, painting her skin with a sea-green glow. This gave her the persona of a nymph; her pointed features and dark eyes pierced right through Sirius. This was her forest. Her woods.

Her long fingers stretched forward, twisting toward Sirius.

'Sirius . . .'

He took a step forward to meet her, holding out his own hand so she could capture it. Her touch was warm and loving, but it set the hairs on the nape of Sirius's neck to stand on end. He pulled his hand back quickly.

"Phiona," he whispers, "Phiona, I'm so sorry"

She tilted her head to one side, letting a strand of hair fall over her dark eyes. Inquisitive, she reached out and ran a hand across Sirius's cheek. Her aura of blue wrapped around him.

'Sirius!'

She called to him. He leaned forward, closing his eyes. She pulled him closer, and felt her run a hand through his hair, over his forehead, and across his cheek. But her touch . . . She was so cold. He shivered, but he was so -- so close. A kiss; that was all he wanted. One simple kiss.

'Sirius!'

So cold. She was damp, almost wet. Her touch was almost . . .

Slimy?

Sirius's eyes shot open, only to find James Potter and Remus Lupin hovering suspiciously over him. Both had unnaturally evil looks on their faces as they patiently watched over their friend. Sirius blinked twice, grimaced and squinted into the light, and then ran a hand over his face. The cold touch he dreamt up still lingered on his face. His fingers, however, ran across something slimy and goose-fleshed -- something that was most definitely not part of the dream.

Jerking wide away, Sirius jumped up from the floor and wiped at his face frantically. The mystery object plopped to the ground and stuck there with a wet squealsh. Sirius gagged with revulsion.

"What the hell is that thing?" he demanded, pointing at slimy piece of flesh on the hard-wood floor.

"Cow tongue." James grinned wickedly. "I thought this would be the only way you'd get slipped the tongue in bed."

Sirius cursed, rubbing madly at the side of his face. "Potter, you arse! Fu--" he suddenly stopped short, finally noticing the change in his friend. Pranks? Involving livestock organs? There was no way a simple child could come up with something like this. This could only be the work of the real James Potter.

"Prongs! You're back! You can play in the Quidditch game today!" Sirius, not able to control himself, forgot about the nasty little prank (as well as all his manly dignity) and gave James a hug.

"Never knew you cared so much, Pads." James grimaced. "Love you too, mate, but you're crushing my ribs."

Sirius turned to Remus. "What'd you do, Moony?" he asked. "How'd you get Jim back?"

"Didn't do a thing." Remus shrugged. "He was his old self when I woke up."

"I don't remember anything," James said, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "Nothing at all. When I woke up, Remus had to tell me about it. It's all a bit wonky, if you ask me."

"Curses disappearing after a couple of hours?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. "That's not . . . usual, is it?"

"I should think not." Remus shook his head. "I'm absolutely gobsmacked, mate."

"I'm a bit gobsmacked too, Sirius." There was that grin again. That wicked, You-Know-Damn-Well-I'm-Up-To-No-Good James Potter smirk. "Why on earth were you dreaming about Phinny?"

Sirius stopped short, giving a little wince. "I . . . erm, what are you . . . Uh . . ."

"Oh yes," Remus exchanged a look with James. "What was he on about, Jim?"

"'Oh, I'm sorry Phinny,'" James cooed. "'Oh Phiona! You're so cold. Let me warm you up a pinch.'"

"Ah, spot on. What were you two doing Sirius?"

"

Yes, Padfoot. Please share with Remus and me."

"Exactly how cold was she?"

"Exactly how did you warm her up?"

"And I'm sure you were very sorry for something."

"Oh, sorry. Sorry's just another word for 'I'm a one-night stand, my little wench. Now bugger off.'"
"You two wankers are going to become very sorry." Gritting his teeth, Sirius leapt toward his two friends. He was so blinded by anger that he overshot his landing and hit the floor right next to James sorry little cow tongue.

"This," Sirius grumbled, "will never leave the room."

"Which one?" Remus's voice floated over-head. "That beautiful pounce you just blessed us with or the fact that you what to suss down Phinny?"

Sirius groaned. This morning was making him its bitch.

"Aw, is ickle Pads glad I'm back to normal?" James took a seat next to his fallen comrade. He picked up the tongue, his fingers running over its formaldehyde-covered skin. "You want the dear sweet disembowelled cow piece to help make you feel better?"

Sirius pressed his nose into the hardwood floor. He heard a soft snoozing coming from the bed to his right. "Pete's not up yet, is he?"

"Nope."

"Don't you think," Sirius looked up at James, "that someone should wake him up?"

"Of course." James waved the cow tongue in front of Sirius's nose.

"May I do the honours?"

The goose-fleshed organ exchanged hands. "I'd be insulted if you didn't."

With a twisted mixture of wicked glee and utter revulsion on his face, Sirius stooped over Peter and placed James's new toy lovingly on the sleeping Marauder's forehead. He cooed Peter's name as Remus and James stifled their laughter in the background.

"Peteykinns . . ."

The victim's eyes fluttered as he mumbled a string of curse words under his breath.

"Wormtail, you better wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."

A hard groan echoed from the back of Peter's throat. He started to run a tired hand over his eyes and across his cheeks.

"Father Christmas made a late stop," Sirius cackled. "And it looks like you've been a very naughty boy!"

Peter's eyes shot open suddenly and his hand immediately moved to his forehead. The cow tongue was waiting there for him, its translucent, jelly-like covering oozing over his fingers. Peter wailed, grabbing the fleshy muscle and flinging it against the far wall.

"Which one of you knobs did that?!" he demanded, eyes blazing furiously.

Sirius raised his hand proudly, a thin smirk of satisfaction running rabid across his smug face. "Sorry, Pete," he said. "The alarm clock wasn't working too well, so I took it upon myself to -- holy shit!"

Instead of finishing his quip, Sirius was forced to dive to the floor. Peter had grabbed his wand off of the bed-side table and was now swarming vengeance upon Sirius with a long string of curses and hexes.

James and Remus took refuge on the other side of the four-post bed. "Erm, Peter," Remus started, peeking over at the rampaging Marauder. "You better be careful with that. It looked like you were trying to hit --"

Another hex flew from Peter's lips, this time hitting Remus in the stomach and flinging him over to one side. He raised his wand once more to finish off Sirius, but was caught in the grip of James.

"Let go of me!" Peter wailed. "Let go!"

"Wormtail!" James wrenched both Peter's hands in a tight grasp. "It was just a bloody joke, mate."

"Jeez, Pete." Sirius grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck as he and Remus got to their feet. "You could have killed us. When the hell did you learn spells like that?"

Twisting out of James's grip, Peter mumbled something under his breath, eyes narrowed on the floor. Without another word, he grabbed a clean pare of robes off the floor beside his bed and walked out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.

"Erm, so then." Sirius crinkled his brow in confusion. "Would anyone one like to take a stab and explain that?"

"Maybe . . . Maybe he's finally snapped." James frowned, leaning against the trunk at the foot of Sirius's bed.

"Oh sweet Lord." Sirius smacked his own forehead. "That tongue thing threw him over the edge. I turned him into a bloody psychopath. Thanks a lot, Prongs."

"What? How are you blaming this one on me?"

"It was your stupid cow to begin with!"

"And you were the one who used it on Peter!"

"I'll use it on your bloody mother, I will!"

"Keep my mother out --"

"Piss off, you two!" Remus's voice topped off the argument. "Peter has not gone mad. He just . . . has had a rough couple of days. We all have our times we don't want to deal with any shit. Especially shit that comes from Sirius."

"But that -- Hey!"

"Remus is right, Pads," James said. "We have always been hard on Peter. Maybe he just doesn't want to deal with it anymore."

"We should go down to breakfast to make sure he's okay," Remus said, pulling a jumper over his pyjamas. "Besides, Jim, you've got a game today. Maybe Pete will cool off by then."

James and Sirius both murmured sounds of agreement and followed Remus out of the dorm room. Sirius kicked the marooned cow tongue across the hard-wood floor.

"What poor cow did you cut that out of anyways, Jim?"

"Your mother."

"Fuck off, Potter."

"Shove it, the both of you!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Great Hall was filled, wall to wall, with ravenous pupils gearing up for the impending Quidditch game. The Slytherins boarded down their side of the room quickly and without great bloodshed (the latter being, of course, a bit disappointing); green and silver flooded over the tables and magically-induced snakes curled around bowls of porridge. The Gryffindors, never to be outdone, set huge crimson and gold bon-fires in every one of their empty tea cups. A seventh year topped off their display by kidnapping a Hufflepuff and hexing him to roar every time he opened his mouth.

It was impossible to find the fuming Peter in the feuding throng, so Remus, James and Sirius cut their way into the Gryffindor table without probing through the crowd. Sirius didn't seem to hold any sort of grudge; instead of spending time participating in any sort of search party for their askew friend, the Marauder decided to increase his financial stability and play bookie for the day's match.

"Everything feels as it should be," James sighed, picking through a plate of sausages. "The houses are out for blood and Sirius is out for himself. But Peter . . ."

"Peter will cool off on his own. Just takes time," Remus moved a flaming cup away from his orange juice. "You know, he's different then you and Sirius and I. He takes what everybody says about him to heart. Honestly, we've been complete knobs to Pete for a while."

James grimaced, not liking to hear the complete truth. He pushed away his plate. "I feel horrible now."

"We'll talk to him after the match," Remus reassured his friend. "Just concentrate on your game. We wouldn't want Sirius to loose any money."

"Now that you put it that way, I might just throw the game. I'd love to see Sirius get his legs broken by a Ravenclaw loan shark."

Phiona suddenly appeared from behind a group of seventh years and their new Hufflepuff mascot. Her hair seemed to have won this morning's battle with her comb, for it was in a higher state of chaos then ever before. It held a bit of Gryffindor spirit, though, decorated in random braids, scarlet ribbon, and golden beads.

"Jamesy," the witch bent down to the Quidditch captain's side, waving a chunk of Honeydukes' finest in front of his nose. "I've got a bit of chocolate for you, honey . . . Okay, Remus you grab his broom -- maybe we can lure him onto it with --"

"I'm fine Phinny," James chuckled. "I woke up this morning perfectly fine. Of course, I don't remember a thing to begin with anyways . . . But Remus assured me that--"

"Oh thank Jehovah." Phiona exhaled deeply. She placed a hand on James's shoulder and wiggled into the seat between him and Remus. "I thought we would have to get someone to replace you . . . like Sirius. And, honestly sweetheart, I'd rather impale myself on a broomstick then let Black place as our Seeker."

"Love you too, Phin." Sirius closed the books and had made his way back over to the Gryffindor table with a bag full of quid in one hand and a long piece of parchment in the other.

"It's your own damn fault you got kicked off the team in the first place," Phiona snorted. "What was the call again? Oh yes. Improper use of a Beater's club, wasn't it?"

"It was a four hour game," Sirius commented lightly. "At that point, I wasn't too picky about what I hit with it -- or where I stuck it, for that matter."

"That poor Ravenclaw bloke," Remus shook his head.

Sirius chortled. "He was an arse. He deserved what he got."

"The arse deserved to have something up his--"

"We caught the pun just fine, Phinny."

"Well, Sirius, you deserved what you got, you knob." Phiona rolled her eyes. "I thought James was going to weep like a little girl when Ames suspended you."

"I wasn't even close to tears, Phin," James remarked. "In fact, I had to stop myself from laughing. I reckoned it was only a matter of time until Sirius got canned."

"You're a bastard," Sirius sneered.

James shrugged. "I didn't have to drag you out of bed for practise anymore. It was an extra bonus for me as a captain, mate."

"Bloody hell, kids. Keep the loving to a minimal." Sirius said sarcastically. "Anyways. Phinny, I've got a bit of welly for you. The Slytherins put down five to one that you'll get knocked off your broom during the first five minutes of the game."

"Well then, you better start giving damn good odds that a good portion of the Slytherin team will be brutally beaten before the game even starts." Phiona's dark eyes flashed as she began to climb to her feet. "Now then, boys, you'll have to excuse me. I'm off to do something completely unrelated to the above statement."

"Phin," James caught Phiona by the arm and gave her a look of warning. "Please don't get in trouble before the game. We don't have another Keeper to take your place."

"Jim." Phiona pasted a shocked expression on her face. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not at all."

"Good man."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After successfully skiving off the breakfast which sat cold on his plate, James slowly rose up from the Gryffindor table and started towards the locker rooms with the rest of his team-mates. Compared to the calm and playful state of Phiona and the rest of the Gryffindors, James Potter gave off the jittery air. Of course, this always seemed to be the state the Quidditch captains went through during game day. Even the Slytherin Captain, Dominic Vaulager, was seen staring at his cup of tea for a full twenty minutes as he nervously chewed on his lower lip. But, as the case always evolves, by time these captains get in the air with the crowd below them on their feet, the pitch and the game was theirs.

A half hour later, the rest of the Hogwartians started to pile out of the Great Hall, making their way towards the stands of the Quidditch pitch. The crowd moved as one, then branched off to towards the six individual stadium sections which stretched around the field. Even as he climbed the stairs up to the stands, Sirius was stopped by several students who wished to place some last-minute bets with the Marauder.

"My friend." Remus rolled his eyes as Sirius rolled up his parchment of records. "The junior bookie."

"And bloody well proud of it, too." Sirius grinned. "That bloke just placed a bet that Ravenclaw would win by twenty."

"Ravenclaw isn't even --"

"Someone has to take advantage of those of dense mindsets," Sirius continued on. "I have taken it upon myself to do just that."

"You're going to hell."

"Yes. Yes I am."

Remus shrugged, shoving his hands into his pocket as he and Sirius secured seats, "It's going to catch up with you, Pads. What goes around comes around."

Sirius snorted loudly. "Don't tell me you believe in all of that karma shit."

"It's wholesome advice."

"Arse wholesome," Sirius commented. "Honestly, only you would take that with a grain of salt. Even Peter, erm . . . Oh, where the hell is he?"

Not making an appearance at breakfast was acceptable, but when Peter Pettigrew had yet to be seen at the Quidditch game, Remus and Sirius began to worry. The missing Marauder always made a point of sticking close to his friends during a match, especially when there were Slytherins afoot.

Remus started to get to his feet. "We better go find him."

Sirius put a hand on his friend's shoulder, guiding him back to his seat. "Don't bother. I believe Peter is old enough to travel without supervision."

"It's not that," Remus bit down on his lower lip, glancing down at the people seated in front of him. "He wasn't doing so well this morning, you know."

"I know, Remus. Bloody hell, the boy tried to kill me."

"And Peter's usually the acting peace-maker of the group. This morning, he's turned into," Remus bit his lip again, pausing to carefully choose his next words, "an overactive, short-tempered, mini version of you."

"And this is," Sirius raised a sarcastic eyebrow, "a bad thing?"

"I don't know what's gotten into him," Remus said. "Maybe we've just been too hard on him lately, but maybe it's something else."

Quite suddenly, a roar erupted from the great mass of Hogwartians in the stands. The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams had arrived onto the field, and were pushing off the pitch. They took to the air, circling hungrily; birds of prey looking for their next kill.

James was leading the Gryffindors around the pitch. The three Chasers, Elwin McKillen, Devon Turner, and Gene Forester were right behind their captain. Brinker Hadley and Thomas Benecke, the two spirited Beaters, came out next. Last, with her frizzy hair waving wildly in the wind, came Phiona, the only female Quidditch player on the pitch. Females of Hogwarts had yet to take to the game; even on Quidditch teams of the world, women weren't usually found on their world-class broomsticks. It was just the way things were. Admittedly, Phiona Love wasn't the most talented Keeper in Hogwarts, almost laughable when compared to some of the other players, but she was good enough to get her job done.

"Oh, for God's sake Moony, sit down and stop worrying," Sirius exclaimed, clapping in-sync with the rest of the Gryffindor fans. "There is no way Peter can cause the world to end in a gory apocalypse, let alone get into any trouble."

"I don't know," Remus said quietly, forgetting to clap with the rest of the Lion supporters. "It's all a bit wonky. First my flu disappears suddenly, then James forgets how old he is and almost gets a right hook from Lily. Now Peter is ready to hex his friends, just over a mindless prank." He lowered his voice considerably. "Something weird is going on here."

"Well, as long as everything's normal." Sirius leaned back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head. "Just calm down and watch the game."

Remus sighed, acutely frustrated with the whole situation, and glanced up as the Gryffindor and Slytherin players began to line up in the middle of the field.

"Here we are, birds and blokes! It's time to see the great game of Quidditch at it's best. Potter and his Gryffindors are ready and willing to completely slaughter Vaulager and his lot of Slytherins!"

"A bit more non-partisan, Hillis."

"Just telling it like it is, Professor."

Micah Hillis, an excessively boisterous Gryffindor third year, was calling the game over the loud speaker. Unfortunately for him and his bluntly bias ways, the prude Potions Master, Professor Gemar, was hovering over his shoulder.

"Right then," Micah continued, clearing his throat. "Here comes our referee, Madam Ames, onto the pitch. She releases the two Bludgers, the Golden Snitch, and . . . There's the Quaffle! We're off!"

The Chasers were almost magnetically drawn towards the Quaffle, all diving down upon it at once. As the squabbled commenced, both Keepers rushed in front of the goals at their end as the two Seekers rose high above the game.

"The Quaffle is snatched up by Forester, who is being tracked by two of the Chasers, Vaulager and Mavroules . . . Oh, and Mavroules takes it and sprints the other way like the bloody coward he is." There was a pause, most likely as Gemar shot Hillis an icy glance. "Er . . . Yes, well . . . Here comes Mavroules towards the Gryffindor end and . . . Blimey! Some nice Bludger work by Hadley . . . Knocks Mavroules into next Tuesday!"

A loud cheer of approval came from the Gryffindor supporters as the Slytherin Chaser gripped his broom tightly, still reeling from the pain Brinker Hadley sent his way.

"Right then, here comes McKillen and Turner, passing the Quaffle between the two of them," Micah continued. "The Slytherin beaters, Conte and Markey, are keeping Forester busy at the other end. Oh, bloody hell, Gene! Don't take that sort of crap from those berks!"

As Gemar struggled to take the magic megaphone away from Micah, the crowds watched as Elwin McKillen and Devon Turner sped towards the Slytherin end. With a wild grin on his face, the seventh year Turner flung the Quaffle past the Slytherin Keeper and through a goal hoop.

"Turner scores big at the Slytherin end, no worries!" Micah had apparently gained the trust of Professor Gemar for the time being. "Ten points for the Lions and -- oh, wait a moment! What's going on at the Gryffindor end?"

Brinker Hadley and Thomas Benecke, finally tired of seeing one of their Chasers, Gene, being harassed by the Slytherin Beaters took the matter into their own hands. Hadley and Benecke sent the pair of Bludgers pelting towards Conte and Markey. The balls collided with the Slytherins' noses with synchronized crunching noises.

"Oy, they're certainly going to feel that lot in the morning." Micah winced along with the rest of the crowd as he watched Conte and Markey fly with their noses bleeding freely. "Can someone mop that mess up? This little ditty should raise up a penalty that -- oh, spot on. There it is."

Madam Ames blew her whistle and waved a yellow flag, awarding the Gryffindors with a penalty for unsportsman-like conduct. The scarlet and gold supporters groaned collectively.

"Unsportsman-like conduct, my arse," Sirius murmured, down in the stands. "Brinker and Tom were doing their job, protecting their Chaser like that."

"And handicapping the Slytherin Beaters while they're at it," Remus commented.

"Again, they were just doing their job."

"Team captain Vaulager takes the penalty shot for Slytherin," Micah announced. "Up against Phiona Love, always a wildcard in these games. She has her good days and her bad, but always a cute piece of crumpet if you ask --"

"We'll never ask you," Professor Gemar's cold comment echoed across the loud-speaker. "Do you're job, Hillis, and announce the game."

"My bad, Professor." Micah cleared his throat again. "Well then, here comes Vaulager with the Quaffle . . . Fakes right . . . Fakes right again . . . Shoots, and -- Love neatly picks it off. No worries. No troubles. Very nice."

The Gryffindor crowd cheered appreciatively as Phiona tossed the Quaffle to Devon Turner. As the Gryffindor Chaser sped towards the other end, the two Seekers suddenly caught the attention of the crowd. James had spotted the Golden Snitch and was bolting towards it, hand out stretched, ready to make the catch. The Slytherin Seeker, Atkins, tailed James a couple feet back, a worried expression plastered on his face. There was no way he could catch up to James in time. The Gryffindor supporters cheered wildly, already dreaming of their victory party.

Suddenly, a Bludger came pelting towards James, causing him to veer off course at the last moment. The Bludger, having missed the Gryffindor Seeker, continued on and pounded into Devon Turner. It bounced off the back of his skull, causing his head to jerk forward and collide with the front of his broomstick.

"Oh . . . Oh God. And Turner takes a tumble and hits the pitch hard." Micah stood as the crowd collectively rose to their feet, trying to get a better view of Devon Turner's limp body as it landed with a dull thump in the middle of the field. "We need help . . . Can someone send down Pomfrey? Madam Ames is down on the pitch and . . . Devon's not getting up. This is bad and it's not getting any better, kids."

As several Professors rushed onto the field, Phiona had to deal with the three Slytherin Chasers on her own above the chaos.

"Jim!" Phiona yelled up at her captain as she dove back to catch an incoming Quaffle. "Get your arse in gear and catch the bloody Snitch. We can't last without Dev!"

"I'm working on it, Phinny!" James yelled back, letting his eyes drift nervously below as Devon Turner was carried off the pitch.

Back in the stands, Remus and Sirius craned their necks over the students in front of them in order to gain a better look.

"Remember what you said about karma?" Sirius muttered, nodding towards the unconscious body of Devon Turner. He was never a big fan of the seventh year Chaser -- Sirius truly believed that there should be only one lady's-man per House. And the handsome Devon was most certainly competition. "Maybe, if we're lucky, his pretty boy face is--"

"Woah," Remus absentmindedly elbowed Sirius. "We're down one player. Don't they stop the game?"

"I'll pretend you weren't so dense," Sirius said irritably, shielding his eyes from the bright sun as he scanned the sky for James. "Of course they don't stop the game. It's not over until someone catches the Snitch."

"So, with Potter out there, this game might last several more hours."

Sirius grimaced as the cold voice hit him from behind. He turned around slowly, finally coming to face a line of Slytherins smirking smugly behind him. Sirius's hands balled into fists, already tiring of the snake-like atmosphere which had suddenly flooded into his territory.

"Down Padfoot," Remus muttered out of the side of his mouth, not even bothering to turn around. "Don't get drawn in."

"Pathetic really." This was Severus Snape, the skinny, hook-nosed sixth year whom Phiona had dealt with last night. He look like had recovered, his skin had taken on his normal sickly glow. He nodded to the sky, where Vaulager made it past Phiona, scoring another ten points. "Can't even scrap together a decent Quidditch team."

A wave of fresh anger flooded Sirius's veins as his fingers twitched subconsciously. Oh, how he'd love to rap them around Snape's scrawny neck and squeeze . . .

"Cat got your tongue, Black?" another Slytherin, this time a seventh year seated above Snape, decided to chime in. He was one of the Malfoy clan -- a strong wizarding family that had swarmed around Hogwarts since it's opening. "This is the first time I've heard you when you're not making a complete fool out of yourself."

"Let them go," Remus mumbled calmly. "They want you to throw the first punch. Just let them go . . ."

"Now ickle Black needs someone to baby-sit him?" Nott, a burly seventh year, leaned forward in his seat. "I reckon you're right, Severus. Bloody pathetic, the whole lot of them."

Sirius clenched his jaw, ready to jump all three Slytherins if the chance came about. Remus cleared his throat -- not because he wanted to stop his friend from a fight this time, but because he didn't want blood on his robes this early in the morning.

"Ouch, Love is absolutely getting pummelled out there." The voice of Micah Hillis came over the loud speaker. "Since the Gryffindor Chasers are outnumbered, they're having a hard time getting the Quaffle back from the Slytherins. The Lion's Beaters are trying their best to help their Keeper out, but -- oh . . . Another goal for Slytherin."

The line of snakes behind Sirius and Remus snickered as the green and silver supporters wailed with glory.

"Well, I guess that's what happens when a captain makes bad picks for his team," the Malfoy drolled coldly. "Letting a woman play on his team -- I thought Potter had a bit more sense than that."

This time Remus jumped to his feet with Sirius, both turning threateningly towards the group of sworn enemies smiling smugly behind them.

"Take that back." Sirius growled through clenched teeth.

Malfoy grinned devilishly. He had caught Black's attention, now it was time to reel him in. "Sirius, my fine lad, even you have to admit that the Quidditch pitch is no place for a woman." He gave a little nod toward Phiona, whose hair was blowing freely in the wind. "If you can really call that a woman. She's more like a rabid animal that should be locked in a cage."

Remus snapped, mentally lowering his guard to meet Sirius. A snarl crossed hid lips and his eyes quickly flashed a vicious yellow. "You're a bastard."

Malfoy, Snape, Nott, and the rest of the Slytherins let out a loud laugh, apparently finding the whole thing quite amusing. Sirius was just about to climb over his seat and deal out several bloody lips, when someone came bolting forward and tackled Malfoy, knocking down both Snape and Nott along with him. Sirius paused for a while, taking in the sight of Peter Pettigrew pounding down upon his Slytherin victims, then sounded out with an approving whoop before joining his fellow Marauder in the fray. Several other Gryffindors, quickly catching sight of what was happening, rushed in to enter the brawl. A batch of fuming Slytherins rushed forward next, trying desperately to even up the odds. Soon, both houses were locked in battle with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws cheering madly -- no one seemed to remember that a Quidditch game was going on above them all. Even Micah Hillis was too enthralled with the fight in the stands and took to blow by blow commentary.

"Oh, and a nice right hook from Black . . . Pettigrew's holding his own out there! Jeez, even Greene's into the -- oh, never mind. Greene gets a free ticket to the hospital wing compliments of Nott's fist!"

"Woah! Woah! Look at Potter!"

Someone screamed from outside the fray, catching the collective attention of the stadium and, in turn, placing the fight on a momentary pause. James Potter was streaming towards the Golden Snitch all alone, the Slytherin Seeker hopelessly watching from the other side of the field. Within seconds, James had the tiny game ball clasped tightly in one hand. Madam Ames, who was in the stands trying her best to pry a Gryffindor off of a Slytherin, blew her whistle in order to finish off the game.

"There you have it!" Micah yelled, practically dancing with delight. "Gryffindor 190 . . . Slytherin 170 . . . Guess this shows who the dominant house it, eh? Ha! What a blow--"

A sudden silence bounced over the loud speakers as Micah was made speechless by the appearance of several burly Slytherins, who had bowled their way into the top box. As Micah crawled underneath one of the benches for fear of his life, the fight below commenced.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

" . . . And Wormtail ploughs right into them. Came from no where, he did. You should have seen the look on that snake's face -- Oy, bloody brill."

As they scampered back from a secret party supplies run via tunnel number three to the cellar of Honeydukes, Sirius cheerfully gave James a verbal replay of the Gryffindor and Slytherin battle royál in the stadium. James had missed the better (and messier) part of the fight because several professors had quickly brought it to an end as soon as the whistle was blown.

The huge demand for a victory party sent the two Marauders out as soon as possible. This meant that Quidditch robes smeared with mud and sweat still hung off of James. Sirius, too, decided not to clean himself up for the little trip; he proudly sported a split lip and a torn sleeve, as well as the most enthusiastic black eye in the history of Hogwarts. With his world in disarray, his arms full butterbeer pints, and the prospect of what promised to be one hell of a victory party, Sirius Black was as content as ever.

"I reckon we should sit in front of the Slytherins more often," said Sirius cheerfully. "If it gets us results like that every time, then it might be worth it. Mate, it would just be worth it to see Pete snap like that again."

"I'll have to admit that Peter is acting a bit odd," James added as he gave an extra tug to the bag full of celebration supplies he was pulling behind him. "He's almost . . . dangerous now."

"Oh, for the love of God, piss off Potter," Sirius interrupted shortly. "You're as bad as Remus. Peter's fine. Maybe he's going through a late puberty and that rush of testosterone is finally kicking in."

"Bloody hell," James murmured, pushing open the trap door which led them back into the Hogwarts castle. "That's all we need now -- Pettigrew on hormones."

"At least he's not bloody stark raving mad."

"Not yet, anyways."

James and Sirius trudged through dark corridors, rounding the last pair of stairs to Gryffindor tower. They carefully pushed open the portrait hole, which had been left ajar for them by Remus, and entered the common room. The Gryffindor squall quickly fell upon them, tearing through what the two Marauders had brought back from Hogsmeade.

Banners were hung. Bottles were opened. Sweets were thrown into the air. Fireworks were let off. Soon, the tower was absolutely throbbing with celebration.

"You know, the Quidditch part is all well and good." Sirius said to his fellow Marauders as he leaned back into the crimson couch, stealing a pillow out from under Remus. "But, I must say that this," he raised his pint, "makes it all worth it."

Remus smiled and nodded over to the far corner of the room as swallowed a drink from his bottle. "Too bad Greene had to be such a party spoiler. We had to take care of him before he ruined our little celebration."

James leaned forward in his seat. "What did you do?"

"Bound him to a chair," Remus answered mildly. "Had to tape his mouth shut and stuff him in a closet. Never knew how noisy that bugger could be -- he was squealing up a storm." he took another swallow. "Gave him a couple kicks, though. That settled him down a bit."

"I've never seen this side of you before, Moony," Sirius commented, marvelling at his companion's irrepressible semi-criminal impulses. "You seemed absolutely chuffed when you leapt over that seat to pound the Slytherins. Now you're making the Head Boy disappear for the night. What the hell happened to the sweet little pup we all knew and loved?"

"Apparently, Peter corrupted him," Remus nodded to the fourth Marauder, who was sitting on a wooden chair facing the roaring fireplace. "He started it all, didn't he?"

James and Sirius craned their necks to gain full sight of Peter.

"I feel a need to congratulate him," Sirius murmured under his breath. "At the same time, however, I feel a need run for my life."

"Should we," James gave Remus a side-ways look, "go talk to him?"

"Are you joking?" Sirius snorted, leaning back in his seat. "I thought I'd never live to say this, but Peter might kick our collective arses." He shook his head. "Peter. Kick. Arses. I think I'm going to need therapy over this one, mates."

"Maybe," Remus pushed a zealous third year out of his way in order to gain a better view of the fireplace, "Pete's doing a bit better. He seemed to have calmed down after taking down Greene -- maybe he's settled down from this morning."

The three Marauders grabbed a full glance at Peter Pettigrew, who was taking a finishing swallow of his pint. With a slight growl, he crushed the glass bottle in his hands and threw the remnants in the fire. A bit of unfinished business left in the glass caused the fire to burst; blue and crimson flames licked the top of the fireplace. Gryffindor tower stopped momentarily, watching as the glow of the growing fire threw wicked shadows over Peter's face, but then the noise started up again as if nothing was amiss.

"Doing a bit better you say, Remus?"

"Well . . ."

"He's going to bloody well kill someone."

"I wouldn't go that far."

Peter stuck out a foot in front of a first year crossing in front of him. The underclassman tripped and flew forward onto a table, cracking it in half.

"Right then. He would kill his own mother."

"You speak the truth, mate."

Before anyone had a chance to pry the large oak splinter out of the poor first year's back, there was a loud uproar from the front of the room. Devon Turner had just arrived back from the hospital wing, crooked smile plastered on his face. The fans of the brave Chaser, which included the entire Gryffindor tower sans Sirius, lifted their drinks in the air and let out a deafening cheer.

"Cheers, Dev!" James rose out of his seat, leaving Peter's problems behind him, and made his way through the crowd to meet Turner. "How you feeling, mate? Did the pitch take you hard?
"Threw me down and raped me, Jim," Turner exclaimed, still grinning. "Just a few broken ribs. Pomfrey patched me up in seconds."

"Spot on." James handed Turner an iced pint of Hogsmeade's finest. "Since you're not hurt, you shouldn't be missing any practises then."

The grin slid off of Turner's face and was quickly replaced by a grimace of pain. "Right, about that. My back's starting to act up. Whiplash, right?"

"Whiplash effects your neck, Dev."

"What did I say? Did I say back? I -- I must be a bit, you know, off. Probably have a tumour. Or cancer. Or gonorrhoea --"

"Five in the morning, mate. Gonorrhoea or not," James said. "Practise comes first."

Turner grinned again, turning the charm on. Several girls to the side of him went red and started to giggle. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

James rolled his eyes. "Bloody brown-nosier."

"Quidditch Nazi," Turner retorted.

"And there's our pathetic, uncoordinated moron of a Chaser. Here's a bit of a hint, Dev. You avoid the Bludgers."

Phiona Love had come strolling through the crowd, still in her stained Quidditch robes. As the first of the Gryffindor players who dove into the little war after James had secured the Snitch, she wore several beautiful souvenirs; this included a healing split lip, a hex burn across her arm, and a light of a bruise forming underneath her left eye.

Devon Turner grin widen further and he opened up his arms, as if he was expecting a hug from the female Keeper. Several fifth year girls sent horrible glares Phiona's way. "Aren't you a little bitch," Devon commented.

"You just figured this out, sweetheart?" Phiona folded her arms, robbing her fellow seventh year of his embrace. "I hope that fall cut your ability to have children in half."

"We were just discussing this, weren't we Dev?" James commented. "He told me that he was raped and got a little package of gonor--"

"Ha!" Phiona gave Devon a playful little shove that pushed him into a crowd of females. One little freckled girl fainted straight away. "Wait till you're little fan club hears about this one."

"Are you kidding, Love? Even if it was true, I'd still get sussed down more then you --"

"Right then." James raised his bottle respectfully. "I'll leave you two at it, then. Have fun with your sexually transmitted diseases, and all that."

He turned, ignoring the two seventh years as they collectively flipped him the bird, and walked back towards the fireplace. James carved through the parting crowd, and saw that his fellow Marauders hadn't left their spot and that Peter had not tackled Sirius in a fit of blind range. Lily Evans had apparently chosen to grace the boys with her presents as well, sitting on the couch next to Sirius.

"There you are." Lily spotted James, narrowing her green eyes as he approached. "Feel fine now, do you? I was afraid I was still dating a child."

"Isn't that illegal in some countries?" Sirius murmured as he sorted through a pile of his winnings from today's bets.

"I was completely fine when I woke up this morning." James, as a second nature, completely ignored Sirius. He took a seat down on the other side of Lily. "Remus couldn't figure it out. I just . . . changed back."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Sounds a bit fishy to me."

"Definitely a herring," Remus agreed. "Like I said before, hexes just don't disappear like that."

"What about Self-Destructing Curses?" Lily asked. "They're only suppose to last a couple of days, then fizz themselves out."

"That's what I first thought, too," Remus answered. "But James spell lasted about twenty-four hours, not forty eight."

"Right." Lily leaned her head into the palms of her hands, letting her eyes drift towards the Filibuster fireworks show to the right of her. "Even Self-Destructing Curses don't destruct that quickly. How about --"

Sirius slammed his bursting bag of galleons onto the table, startling Lily and Remus out of their conversation. "Oh for the love of God," he spat out. "Will you two stuff it? If you hadn't noticed, James is spot on now. It's done. Game's over, case closed, zip up your fly. You don't need to keep digging up things that are dead and buried."

"I've got to agree with Padfoot on this one," James mumbled. "I'm fine now. We can all move on with our lives."

Lily threw a sharp glare towards James. "Excuse us for being concerned with your health, safety, and well-being," she huffed. "Now, for all I care, you can run head long into a goal post and sink into a coma. I promise you, Remus and I won't feel any remorse or sympathy for you and your fatal injury. I'm sure Sirius will still love you, though, even if you're a lifeless vegetable."

"That's the last time I agree with Sirius," James said. "Lil, I'm --"

James's apology was cut short by a thunderous cheer coming from the back of the room. Devon Turner, with the help of Beaters Brinker Hadley and Thomas Benecke, were busy hoisting what looked like an effigy of one of the Slytherin Quidditch player up in the air with a long nylon rope. When the effigy was tied into place, Turner, Hadley, and Benecke started to carefully aim Filibuster Fireworks at it. Whenever one of the fireworks successfully connected with the Slytherin look-alike, it rewarded the crowd below with a burst of multicoloured sparks.

"Too bad we couldn't get the real thing up there and set it on fire," Sirius muttered in awe of the burning effigy.

"This is much more fun." James smiled. "We don't have to deal with the little squeals of pain this way."

"Incredibly morbid," Remus commented. "Yet incredibly enjoyable at the same time."

It was Phiona Love's turn to carefully take aim and let a firework fly. Hers flew straight through the dummy's stomach, setting the effigy aflame. Within seconds, the Slytherin look-alike was engulfed in flames, then reduced to nothing but ashes.

"Nice shot, you little piss off." Brinker Hadley gave Phiona a friendly little shove, a grin spreading along his freckled face. "You always have to be the one kills the game, don't you?"

Phiona shrugged. "Call it a gift, love."

"I call it sucking all the bloody fun out of it, Phinny." Hadley continued.

"You want something else to set on fire?" Phiona asked, her eyes glowing from the glint of the smouldering effigy above. "Grab Pettigrew and hoist him up there by his smalls."

A collective chortling spread through the common room. Peter, on the other hand, did not find this remark so comical. He got out of his chair and made his way through the crowd toward Phiona, Devon, Brinker, and Thomas. His eyes were locked on the four seventh years.

"See, there you are." Phiona motioned to the incoming Peter, seeing no real anger. "He's coming over. Get the rope ready, boys, this might be fun."

"I don't like to be made the fool, Love," Peter snarled, his fists clenched. "Now, if you don't piss off, you might be the one burning."

Phiona snorted. "Jeez, Peter. Getting a bit snippy, aren't we? Did Sirius turn your toad into a potato again?"

"I'm warning you, Love." Peter gritted his teeth.

"Warning?" Phiona looked as though she was going to burst with laughter. "What are you going to do, Peteykinns? Tell your mummy?"

Peter's right eye twitched as something snapped inside of him. He bolted towards Phiona, who couldn't stop herself from laughing. In one swift movement, Peter let a fist fly, connecting with the side of Phiona's chin.

The room went silent. Sirius jumped to his feet, having no idea what to do or what was happening in front of him. With everything clicking into place, he sprang toward the fight, Remus and James following his lead. As Peter cocked his arm back to let Phiona have another, Sirius grabbed his hand and it wrenched backwards. His right hand caught in Sirius's grasp, Peter quickly pivoted and swung a wild left backwards at his fellow Marauder. Peter's punch caught Sirius square in the nose, knocking him off balance. Before he had any chance to retaliate, Peter threw three more hooks, each one connecting with Sirius's jaw. It took the effort of James, Remus, and Brinker Hadley to pull Peter back, keeping him tightly in their grip and away from Sirius.

"Let go of me, damn you!" Peter wailed, straining madly against his friends restraint. "I'll kill you, Black! Fucking kill you!"

As Sirius got back onto his feet, wiping the blood out from under his nose, Peter spat on his fellow Marauder's face in a last ditch effort to provoke him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Phiona had finally recovered from her little rumble and edged up to Sirius's side. "Where do you get the bollocks to pull something like that?"

"You stupid bint!" Peter snarled. "Come over here and finish this! Come on, God damn it!"

Phiona's eyes narrowed and flashed violently. "Do you want to do it or should I?" she asked Sirius.

"Have at it," Sirius answered, rubbing his sore jaw.

Phiona walked up to Peter, who was still fully retrained by James, Remus, and Hadley. Her face twisted into an animal-like snarl before winding up and letting a hard right hook fly at Peter. It connected solidly, causing the Marauder to be instantly knocked unconscious.

"That's done," Sirius muttered. "Game over, case closed, zip up your fly."

~*************~