» a werewolf's heart » {wolfstar}

trouble

- padfoot -

Each of us has about ten dung bombs stuffed in the pockets of our robes, and we're sneaking toward Filch's office with the Marauder's Map open, watching for approaching students. It's our way of christening the newly finished map, and we're all feeling very mischievous and rather excited. The hallway's deserted, but we can hear students streaming through nearby corridors. That's the really risky part, and why we're depending on the map so much—the castle's active, so anyone could walk up on us.

"Anyone?" James asks Peter, who volunteered to be in charge of the map. He shakes his head, keeping his eyes fastened to the map; he doesn't want to screw this up.

We reach Filch's door, and just when Remus is carefully opening it so we can sneak in, Peter hisses, "Peeves!"

Remus shuts the door with a snap, and we start to bolt down the hall, but it's too late. "Oooh, Peevesie smells trouble, what are you four doing near Filchie's office?" he asks in a singsong, floating cross-legged in the air in front of us, sporting a large spinning bow-tie and a brightly colored outfit.

"Peeves..." I murmur, my tone half aggravated and half warning.

"Should tell Filch about this, I should," he cackles, turning over sideways in the air.

"Peeves, don't!" Peter begs.

I honestly don't get Peeves. He's a lot like us—all five of us like chaos, after all. But he's happy to get students into trouble indiscriminately. He doesn't even have a problem harassing the professors. There's almost no reasoning with him. Almost.

As he takes in a breath to yell for Filch, I say hurriedly, "Peeves, don't—we'll give you our dung bombs!"

He stops, looking at me, obviously tempted. "Dung bombs... Peeves should tell, he should, but..." He cackles evilly, turning right-side-up and sticking out his hands. "Gives them to us, then!"

James looks at me like I'm mad, but I just shrug. If it gets Peeves out of the way... Besides, the poltergeist is likely to cause more trouble with them than we would, running no risk for us in the process. I empty my pockets of all but two dung bombs, watching the other Marauders dump theirs in Peeves' hands.

The poltergeist takes them happily, chortling to himself, but then he pauses and gives us a suspicious glare, looking at us sternly. "Gives them all, now, wouldn't want Peevesie to yell for Filch!"

I can't help but feel a little impressed. Peeves doesn't seem to be all that bright when you think about it—he just lives for trouble—but he's smarter than you'd think. I pull out my remaining dung bombs; James pulls out two of his own, and Remus hands over one he'd been holding on to. Only Peter hasn't kept any.

Peeves takes them, and they disappear in his hands; then he dives down at Peter, screeches "Got your conk!", and disappears.

"That was close," Remus sighs, grinning. He looks peaky because of the moon tonight, but still satisfied. "Not what we were planning, but I'm sure Peeves will put those to good use." Peter's rubbing his nose with his free hand, grimacing after Peeves' joke. He's still got the Marauder's Map clutched in his other hand.

"So much for christening the map," James frowns.

"You four," an oily voice from behind us says; I instantly know who it belongs to. Snivellus. I turn around to face the greasy git. "Obviously up to no good." He glances down toward Peter's hands, and I realize he's looking at the Marauder's Map. I snatch it away from Wormtail, tapping it with my wand and hissing "Mischief managed" under my breath. It turns blank instantly.