Again, this prank is based on a series of real events. Unfortunately, it has not succeeded yet, but I am determined that it will, someday. I'm hoping for it.

Disclaimer: All characters (except Professor Wilson and Marcie Mia) belong to J.K. Rowling. Anyone who can tell me which song Marcie Mia filked and who sang it … is - um, cool.

Life Lessons II

Arithmancy Atrocities

James locked the door, oblivious to the enraged voice shouting outside it. He went to the teacher's desk and calmly began to rifle through

Professor Wilson's papers, looking with interest at some large purple folders which he found in the upper drawer. He spotted his own name written on a particularly thick binder and, without the least hesitation, opened it up.

He shouted with laughter when he saw what it was. "Hey, Sirius!" he said, waving the folder. "Our personal records! And he's alphabetised our pranks!"

Sirius got out of his chair, leapt over a desk in the way (which happened to contain Peter Pettigrew) and grabbed the folder James handed him - his own. Sirius read the file from front to back, sniggered all the way through, and finally, with a pleased expression, put it down.

"Wilson hates me even more than I thought," he said proudly, and flipped to the last page. "Here - 'The boy is a nuisance, a pest,'" he read, trying to imitate the teacher's condescending, patronising tone. "'He does not respond to positive reinforcement-" "What are you, a terrier?" asked James, highly amused "'-and persists in disrupting his learning community.'"

Sirius shut the file and glanced around the classroom. Chaos had prevailed. Remus was the only one working, or trying to; his hat kept getting knocked off by the enthusiastic paper-ball war going on behind him, and finally he was forced to give up and join in. Timid Anna had joined in a chorus of the latest song from the Befudders, which was blaring from the radio, and Peter had just jumped up on a table to dance with Kelley Grant, who was enjoying herself immensely, despite her partner. The level of noise made by the buzzing students was comfortably loud and cheerful, a far cry from the silence that Professor Wilson insisted on keeping - but as Professor Wilson was currently locked out of his own classroom, that didn’t seem to matter.

"Yep," Sirius said, surveying the scene with satisfaction. "Definitely disruptive."

"Ugh, Remus!" James cried, pretending to be horrified as he read his friend's file. "Wilson says good things about you! Listen to this: 'Remus is an excellent student, quiet and responsible, and-" here, James dissolved into hysterics "'-will one day become a respectable and upstanding member of society!'" James grinned at Remus. "What say we burn this file, hmm?"

"Good idea!" Remus said from behind an overturned desk; he was using it as a makeshift shelter from the crumpled balls of parchment that were flying at him from all directions. Even the most well-behaved student in class looked sickened at the thought of Professor Wilson's approval, and Remus chucked the folder into the fireplace as soon as he could venture from his fortress to grab it.

The sound of beating fists on the door was growing steadily louder; the teacher's cries more insistent. The students talked loudly over the noise, pretending not to hear it, and some of them actually had their fingers in their ears to block out the noise of their least favourite professor.

"Maybe we should let him in," Remus said slowly, starting to feel pity for the man.

"He can open the door for himself. He's got to know a decent Alohomora charm by now," replied Sirius, who felt no such thing.

"Bet he doesn't," said James, "but all the same, let's keep him outside for just a little bit longer. Payback for that time he took points off because I hadn’t coloured in my picture of a banshee."

"I wonder why he makes us draw pictures in Arithmancy," mused Remus.

"We probably don't want to know," said Sirius.

Just then there was a new voice outside the door, one which, to everyone's horror, said "Alohomora!" James searched in panic for a place to hide the stolen files; finally, in desperation, he pitched them into the fire. Peter removed himself precipitatingly from the table, Remus heaved the desk back onto its legs and Sirius scrambled to pick up his books. The Marauders had just flung themselves into their seats when the door opened.

Professor Wilson stood there, a short, plump wizard with a red face, curly black hair and lurid yellow robes. He was accompanied by Professor McGonagall, who was obviously annoyed, and seemed to be thanking her profusely.

"Thank you, Minerva - don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along - not that I couldn’t have opened the door very well on my own, you know - need to get caught up on my charms, I suppose - never could quite master the Alohomora spell, ha ha ha -"

"Yes, well," said Professor McGonagall, gazing severely around at the students, although her heart didn’t seem to be in it. "I'll leave you to deal with them, shall I? And make sure to tell me if anything of this sort happens again."

"Oh, yes, I will, Minerva, certain-" but Professor Wilson was cut off by the door which slammed in his face, leaving him talking to a wall.

Wilson turned to the students, who were watching him guardedly, unsure of how he would react.

James was particularly worried. Locking Professor Wilson out of the classroom had been Sirius's idea, and if the teacher questioned them,

Peter would almost definitely squeal, leaving Sirius in hot water. What would the professor do to him? At least thirty points from Gryffindor, perhaps more. Detention for sure. Was barricading a teacher outside a door serious enough to get his best friend expelled? James hoped not.

Instead of exploding into a screaming rant, as the whole class expected, Professor Wilson took one look at the obviously guilty faces surrounding him (completely missing Peter, who was mouthing 'It was them!' and pointing to James and Sirius) - and beamed.

"Don't feel bad, children," he chirped in a singsong voice. "I know you must have tried your best to let me in. I expect that the door jammed - did it not?" Several people nodded dumbly, trying to restrain giggles. "It must have been terrible for you, trapped without your teacher,"

Professor Wilson went on, speaking as though to a five-year-old who was lost in a supermarket. "Were you very frightened, James?" he asked.

Sirius hid his head in his textbook to have private hysterics. "Oh, yeah," James said in what he hoped wasn't a sarcastic tone (although he doubted very much that Professor Wilson would pick it up if it was) "Terrified."

Professor Wilson nodded understandingly. "Well, you have all been very brave, and for that, I will reward you." The class exchanged apprehensive glances; they knew by now that what Professor Wilson considered a "reward" was thought by many to be cruel and unusual punishment. The teacher, oblivious to Sirius's heartfelt groan at the word 'reward', continued. "Today we are going to find our True Colours!"

Professor Wilson passed out thick booklets of parchment to every student. Inside were the kind of 'What Type of Person Are You?' quizzes that are common in teen magazines, with one colour representing one type of person and rows of meaningless questions organised neatly into rows.

"Interesting," muttered Remus, looking over the handout in deep disgust. "I didn’t think that Arithmancy had anything to do with the biased and ignorant belief that all people, everywhere, from all sorts of families, religions and backgrounds, can be neatly pigeonholed into one of four personality 'groups'."

"Well, I like this sort of thing," said Peter, who was already on the fifth question. "James, what was your answer for number six?"

"It's a personality quiz, Peter," said James, rolling his eyes. "There's no right or wrong answers. Relax."

Peter looked troubled. "But I want to be in the same group as you guys."

All of them sighed and moved their papers so that Peter could see. While he copied, James and Sirius discussed Quidditch, with Remus staying quiet for the most part; he and Peter did not play, and Remus, in spite of being friends with two Quidditch fanatics for nearly five years, knew very little about the sport.

"Wish he'd shut up," James said wistfully, referring to Professor Wilson, who was babbling happily about fruit bats at the front of the room.

Absolutely no one was listening, but they couldn’t shut him out completely, and the lecture was becoming annoying.

"Maybe he'll get himself committed soon. Or be sold to a circus. Or wear himself out and go to sleep," Sirius suggested optimistically.

"Unlikely," said Remus. "He's got too much energy. Reminds me of a certain someone during a certain phase of their life when they only drank a certain, highly caffeinated beverage."

James and Peter laughed. Sirius did not.

"Guffaw all you like-" "Thank you, we will," said James, "-but I'm going to do something about him."

~

No matter how much the Marauders tried to worm it out of him, Sirius wouldn't tell them what he'd thought of. It was infuriating for the rest of them to watch as he went around smiling for days on end, laughing when there was no joke, suddenly saying, "Oh, that's brilliant!" and rushing off to his dormitory in the middle of a studying session, staring at Professor Wilson with a menacing grin on his face throughout Arithmancy each day, bursting into cackles in Transfiguration. He refused to say anything about his plan - if, indeed, he had one at all. James coaxed and pleaded; Remus wheedled and convinced; Peter whined and pestered, but all it got them was a box on the ear for James and a Leg-Locker curse for Peter. Finally, the Marauders decided that Sirius was jerking their chain, leading them on when he didn't have a plan, and they turned their attention to more important matters.

~

James held the struggling box with both hands, guiding the broomstick with his legs only. He rose from the ground up along the wall of the castle, doing a balancing act sixty feet above the grass. The box gave a particularly insistent jerk, and James nearly fell off the his broom.

Heart pounding, he righted himself again, and flew carefully upwards to hover beside a long, open window.

James looked inside and saw with satisfaction that breakfast was in full swing. Students were halfway through their meal, the latecomers were just dashing in, the teachers were reviving over cups of the "highly caffeinated beverage." His timing had been perfect.

From inside the Great Hall, Sirius was staring at the open window. His best friend popped up next to it on his Silver Arrow, and Sirius waved slightly, not wanting to attract attention. Sirius nudged Remus and pointed to James.

"Oh no," said Remus. "What's he doing up there?"

Sirius explained. Remus choked on his cereal.

"You've got to be kidding," he said, sputtering, in a voice that James could not hear.

"Nope," Sirius replied cheerfully. "He's actually going to do it."

Remus uttered a dismal groan and ducked his head under the table in preparation.

Back outside the Great Hall, James was struggling with the latch of the box. The wooden crate would have been easy to unlock, but it was squirming ferociously, trying to fight its way out of James's grip. James finally managed to secure it by holding it tightly under one arm and undoing the latch with his right hand. The lid of the box jerked open, and James slammed his free hand down on it, keeping the almost-escapee inside. Trying to ignore the stubborn beating against the top of the crate, James flew forward until he was slightly inside the Great Hall.

Still, nobody noticed him.

Far below, Sirius waited, breathless, and Remus watched dismally. James checked to make sure that no one below had seen him, gave his best friend the thumbs up and released his grip on the lid. The force of the top bursting open nearly knocked James off his broom and through the open window as the captive shot out, and he had to scramble to stay in the air. James backed speedily out of the Hall and stared gleefully at what was happening.

More like a cannonball than anything else, the Bludger sped full tilt toward the enchanted ceiling. Not vanishing into the false, sunny sky but colliding with the solid roof, it made a crash that shook the school. People dropped what they were eating and stared around, looking for the source of the noise. They didn't have to stare long.

The Bludger plummeted from the roof, taking a shower of cracked stones with it. It slammed into the floor, reversed direction and sped for the far wall. Several first-years screamed.

People saw the black blur going past and dived for shelter. Several cries of "Mad Bludger!" told everyone what was happening, and there was a panic. The students made for the exits, the teachers began to yell orders which nobody could hear, there was a scramble for safety at the exits and Peter hid behind Simon Mackenzie's robes.

The Slytherins were hiding under their breakfast table, the Ravenclaws were scrambling to get out of the way of the Bludger and the Hufflepuffs were in a flurry of confusion. The Gryffindor Beaters were trying to catch the Bludger and failing; the rest of the House was dodging out of the ball's path. Sirius was laughing hysterically, oblivious to Remus's efforts to drag him from the Bludger and into a safe corner. Nobody saw a black-robed figure on a broomstick slip quietly away from the window.

The ball crashed into and through the Ravenclaw table - luckily there was no one hiding under it -, rocketed toward the Slytherins (who screamed and fled) and nearly took the skin off the end of Albert Macmillan's large ears as it whooshed past. The Bludger aimed next at the High Table and almost broke Professor Wilson's thin glasses, missing them by a hair, and slammed into the wall behind him. The Gryffindor table was the next to go - the wood split with a sickening crunch, Sirius's food spilled all over him, the plates jumped three feet into the air and pumpkin juice splashed in every direction. Peter was just able to duck a flying milk jug as it splintered against an overturned chair leg and broke into a thousand pieces.

James rushed into the Hall, bright-eyed and mischievous. He had evidently just returned his broom to the shed - his cloak and shoes were muddy and disorganised and he was panting for breath. James looked around at the excitement his prank had caused, grinned in satisfaction and high-tailed it back out the door, narrowly avoiding the Bludger which smashed into the stone statue behind him.

Remus found his way through the crowd of panicked, fleeing people, dragging Peter and Sirius with him, and made for the door and safety.

Before he'd got ten steps, a voice - Dumbledore's voice - boomed a spell: "Immobiliat!" The crashing noises stopped, and Remus glanced behind him.

The Bludger was frozen in mid air, unmoving. Dumbledore's blue eyes were like fire as he stared at the damage, and behind him, Professor

McGonagall uttered a timid, "Reparo." The tables became whole again, as did the milk jug; the shards of stone shrapnel flew back up to the ceiling they'd come from; the cratered walls became smooth again, wood and rock fitting easily back into place; the Slytherins crept warily from under the table. Sirius tried to look innocent.

The school started buzzing. "What was that?" "Bludger, I think - yeah, it is," "Who could have let it in?" "Dunno - maybe one of the

Slytherins, but I don't see how-" "There's an open window, maybe it got in through there-" "D'you think it got out on its own?" "Bet you five

Galleons it was Snape, he'd love to see us get our faces mangled-" "Lucky nobody's hurt, that would have been a real mess -"

The anger on Dumbledore's face seemed to fade when he saw that there were no injuries. He flicked the Bludger out of existence with his wand, conferred briefly with Professors Gilla and McGonagall, then sighed.

"I don't suppose that I have to say which two students will be receiving detentions?" he asked, and Sirius grinned as though he'd won a medal.

"We'll be there at the usual time, Professor," said James, sticking his head back into the Hall.

James strolled back into breakfast among half-angry, half-amused glares from the students, and sat down next to Remus and Sirius, who had resumed eating. "You owe me ten Galleons, Padfoot, Snape didn't break his nose," he said.

~

"Sirius!" James called one day, running up to him after Quidditch practice.

Sirius turned and smiled. "Prongs," he replied cordially.

James fell into step beside his friend. "It's almost time. Any idea of what to do for - well, in two weeks?" he said meaningfully, jerking his head at the sky, where the moon was just beginning to shine.

"Plenty, but nothing good," Sirius replied.

James was startled. Didn’t Sirius usually have ten brilliant ideas by now? He was the planner of the group; normally they had to weed through his suggestions, trying to find the best one. He'd counted on Sirius to have something devised for Remus.

"Why not? Prankster's block?" he inquired, using the term he often said when they couldn’t think of anything to do.

"No," Sirius replied, eyes glinting mischievously. "I've been busy."

James let out an exasperated sigh. "If you're plotting something, tell me," he said. "If you're not, quit with the act and get down to business.

Remus needs us with him when - you know - and we have to think of something! It takes us at least a week to work out the details of where we're going to be and when, and he counts on us for it."

Sirius hesitated. "Yeah … " he muttered to himself, as though thinking, and with a furtive glance around him, he leaned over and whispered into

James's ear. "The reason I didn't tell you about what I've been doing," he hissed, "is because we couldn’t risk talking it over where we might be overhead. Peter's got us caught enough times already, and I didn’t want to take chances on this one."

"Chances on what one?" James demanded, starting to grin.

"On our newest bit of evil, of course," said Sirius. "I kept it such a secret because what we are going to do-" he lowered his voice until James could barely hear it "-is push Professor Wilson over the edge and into early retirement."

"How?"

Sirius kept whispering as they walked up to the castle, and by the time they had reached the common room, the plan was complete.

~

Remus took notes half-heartedly, his mind elsewhere - namely, on the bird that was twittering at him from the windowsill. It was ever so much more interesting than Professor Binns' lecture. Even the bird got bored after awhile, Remus thought to himself as it cocked its head, spread its wings and flew out to the Forest. With the part of his mind that was listening to the teacher, he heard "vampire" in conjunction with "546

AD," and wrote both down, thinking that they might be important. He'd look it up later in his textbook.

The class seemed to have been showered with Sleeping Potion. Remus had a suspicion that he was the only one who was actually awake, excluding Professor Binns - and Remus wasn't enjoying the company.

He took a regretful glance at James and Sirius, fast asleep on their desks. Sirius was snoring noisily. He wished that they hadn't been up so late last night - things would be more interesting with them awake. Maybe the three of them would be throwing Gummy Toads at the ceiling to see if they stuck - or experimenting with the properties of an Acidic Acacia twig - or plotting new ways to get back at the teachers - although they hadn’t been doing a lot of Teacher Tormenting lately. Perhaps Remus should suggest it after class … but he probably wouldn't have to; he knew that even in their sleep, the minds of James and Sirius were already whizzing and bubbling and boiling with thoughts of evil.

He didn't want to make things worse.

The hands of the clock were moving tauntingly slowly, perhaps not at all. Had the clock stopped? No - there it went - but so slowly. For a moment, even model-student Remus considered a well-placed Hastius Hex, but he'd had enough unpleasant experiences involving that curse to last him for a lifetime. He didn't think he could stand Sirius on caffeine for at least a year - and so, unbearable as the prospect was, Remus would have to wait.

He put his head down on the desk. The wood was more comfortable than he would have thought. Nice. Remus yawned, a great wide yawn that seemed to suck in all the air in the classroom …

He was floating on the air, flying past fluffy white clouds and broomsticks. There was Peter, riding a brand new Silver Arrow and waving to him, the Snitch in one hand, smiling broadly, with the announcer shouting, "And Pettigrew catches the Snitch for England, winning the World Cup for the sixth time in a row!" James was sitting on a cloud, reading a thick book with studious interest, while Sirius sat in a desk on a cloud below, smiling angelically at an invisible teacher with his hands folded …

"Hi, Sirius!" called Remus, waving to his friend.

Sirius scowled back and looked prim. He leaned slightly out of his desk and whispered behind his hand, "You mustn't speak to me! I'm listening to Professor Wilson!"

"Sorry," sang Remus, who was feeling very cheerful, and he flew on.

Snape soared past, standing on the wing of an aeroplane, dressed in white choir robes and singing with a high, sweet voice. Professor

Dumbledore was flying the plane, and was having a little bit of trouble with the controls - he didn't know how they worked - the plane spiralled down, but Snape kept singing, and didn’t notice that he was suddenly upside-down.

"You're going to crash!" laughed Remus, finding it very funny. "Push the green button, Professor, it'll bring you back up and extend the emergency engines from the decorticator! Careful - if you push the wrong green button caryopsis could set in - and they're all green buttons, you know," he cried. "But you've got to press the green one, understand?"

"WAIT!" boomed a voice, and suddenly, everything stopped. There was no trace of motion except for Remus himself, who was still floating on a warm updraft of wind. Snape, a tiny figure on a no-longer-plummeting aeroplane, was completely still and silent. Sirius didn’t even blink at his desk. Peter's hand was frozen in mid-wave, and the Snitch in it did not struggle. James's eyes had stopped going over the lines in the book, and the cloud he was sitting on did not travel across the sky.

"WAIT!" the voice yelled again, filling the sky. "SOMETHING'S WRONG, PEOPLE! FLIP IT!"

Everything started moving again, but this time, very differently. Sirius's hands were folded the wrong way, and soon he leaned away from his desk, took his finger away from his lips and hissed, "Wilson Professor to listening I'm! Me to speak mustn't you!"

"What?" asked Remus, but his friend didn’t seem to hear him.

Remus went up to James. "You're turning the pages the wrong way," he said.

James glanced up. "Backwards reading not I'm," he said scornfully. "Silly be don't."

Just then, a plane broke the cloud Remus was standing on in half, and Remus leapt out of the way. He stared up at the plane, which was moving rapidly toward the sun, high in the greenish sky, and he could hear a faint voice singing, "Begin let's so/own our call to have we world only the it's and/home call we that place one/world one have we…"

Peter was waving with his left hand, not his right, and sitting backwards on his broomstick. He called out words to the crowd, words that didn’t make sense, but before Remus could hear what they were, the big voice spoke again.

"NO!" it cried. "NO! Not BACKWARDS! REVERSE THE O.O.C. MANIPULATOR!"

Remus couldn't find the source of the voice, but everyone had obviously been listening to it, because they snapped back into character before you could say Quidditch. James took one look at the book he had been reading and tossed it off the cloud in self-disgust; Peter fell off the broom and hung by one hand; Snape, still perched on the wing of the plane (which steadied itself immediately), changed his voice to a sound that resembled a cat being tortured, then stopped in horror; and Sirius - Sirius pulled a firecracker from his pocket, lit it with a prod from his wand, leapt out of his desk, and launched the firecracker into the air - Remus tried to warn him, but it was too late - the firecracker exploded, and the universe became a ball of flame - Remus was thrown forward, out of control …

Remus jerked awake, sweating and gasping for breath, just as Professor Binns was finishing the lesson.

"And that's how the Caramilk gets inside the Caramilk bar," he concluded, and turned to put his notes away. "Class dismissed."

As they were all asleep, nobody moved.

"Class dismissed," said Professor Binns loudly, and the sixth-years arose from their stupor.

"Arithmancy next," Sirius said as they left the room. He and James exchanged malicious grins.

"What are you planning?" asked Remus.

"To save the students of Hogwarts from the horror, the terror, the sheer horribleness, of Arithmancy with Professor Wilson - forever!"

James said impressively, and then added, when he saw Remus's face, "But for real this time. And no curses. I promise.

"Well," James said quietly as Remus moved slightly ahead, "maybe just a few."

~

When the sixth-year Gryffindors entered their classroom, they immediately pulled their robes up over their noses. There was a good reason for this: Professor Wilson had cleaned the tables, and the air reeked of vinegar. The class was too used to this to protest, but the robes stayed up as they sat down (carefully not touching the desks), brought out their parchment and picked up a quill.

James and Sirius were the last to enter. Unlike the rest of the students, they didn't seem to have a problem with the smell - in fact, they smiled broadly when they realised what it was. They took the only seats left, at the back of the room near the cupboard where Professor

Wilson kept his cleaning supplies.

"Children," said Professor Wilson, with a bob at the front of the blackboard, "I have a treat for you today!"

James nodded to Sirius, who grimaced, then changed his expression to what he hoped was an eager one (he did not succeed; Lily Sheridan thought that Sirius was suffering intense pain). "Do you really, Professor Wilson? What is it, please? I'm so excited to know!"

Professor Wilson didn't even look startled. He beamed, completely oblivious to the sarcasm, and replied, "Now, Mr. Black, be patient!" Sirius stopped his awkward wiggling in his seat and kept still, the strange expression still plastered firmly on his face. "We must learn patience, must we not? Can you define patience for me, Mr. Black?"

Sirius pretended to be thinking hard. "The - the ability to wait for something, sir?" he asked finally, biting his lip in an uncanny imitation of a terrified first-year.

"Very good, Mr. Black. Now we must have patience - we must wait - to be told of the surprise I am planning for you. Do you understand?" said Professor Wilson, gently.

Sirius replied, with a manful effort to stop laughing, "Oh, yes sir, certainly."

Professor Wilson turned to the blackboard and began to explain the "treat". However, neither James nor Sirius found out what that was at first, because they had quietly opened the door of the cupboard behind them and were searching for the bottle of vinegar.

"Here! I've got it," hissed James at last, extracting his head from the cupboard and carefully closing the door. He opened the bottle and waved it in front of his nose. "Mmmmm - toxic fumes," he said dreamily. "Take a whiff, Padfoot?" he offered.

"No thanks," declined Sirius. He pulled the tin of baking soda from his pocket. "So you're sure this won't explode, Prongs? Remember, it's got to be a small reaction. It won't have the same effect if it mushrooms."

"I'm sure," whispered James, and he took the tin from Sirius. "Blast! No can opener."

"Alohomora," murmured Sirius, tapping the lid with his wand. It flew open and enveloped the boys in a cloud of baking soda; they didn't dare to cough, but waved it away most emphatically.

Silently, with a glance at Professor Wilson up at the blackboard, James poured the baking soda into the bottle of vinegar. It immediately started to froth and churn, and bubbles crept quickly up the inside of the bottle. Sirius grabbed the mixture, stuffed it back into the cupboard and shut the door.

They waited ten minutes, and then noticed that bubbles were dripping from the cupboard. Not liking the idea of vinegar-and-baking-soda bubbles getting on their clean robes, James and Sirius edged their seats away from the cabinet, their noses wrinkled.

"Why don't they notice the smell?" wondered Sirius under his breath.

"They've got their robes over their noses," James pointed out. "And Wilson's at the very front, so I'll bet it isn’t nearly as bad up there as it is here. We're the only ones who have to suffer. Guess that's fair - too bad."

Sirius coughed and pulled his collar over his face.

Not wanting to arouse suspicions that they were up to no good, James and Sirius kept quiet for the next half hour of class - so quiet, in fact, that any teacher in school besides Professor Wilson would have immediately known that something was wrong. However, Professor Wilson was not a man who possessed the ability to think about more than one thing at a time, and for the moment, his whole being was centred on his lecture.

"…and I will not keep you waiting any longer for your treat," Professor Wilson said indulgently. "Please welcome a good friend of mine, Marcie

Mia."

The door opened, and the students strained to get a look at the person outside, wild with curiosity - Professor Wilson had friends? What would they be like? James and Sirius knew that any friend to Professor Wilson was a deadly enemy to the rest of the world, and they exchanged fearful glances.

A woman entered the classroom, and everything went immediately silent. There was a good reason for this.

She was dressed in an elaborate Indian buckskin, decorated with brightly coloured beads that jingled as she walked. She wore a rainbow poncho around her shoulders and moccasins. Her hair was long, almost down to her waist, and it was grey even though the woman was in her twenties. She carried a large guitar on her back.

Marcie Mia faced the students (who were shrinking slightly away from her) and stared at them for a few minutes. Just stared. She shifted her bright-blue gaze from one to the other and studied them for a full thirty seconds. Forty for Sirius - only twenty for Peter - but almost a minute for Remus alone.

Marcie Mia whispered to Professor Wilson after she was done. Professor Wilson listened, smiling broadly throughout the quiet conference, and nodded. He cleared his throat and addressed the noiseless sixth-years.

"Miss Mia will be singing a song to you!" he said, and paused, as though he expected them to break out in cheers. When they didn't, Professor

Wilson frowned slightly and continued. "Her song - which she composed herself, class - is about wolves."

"What do wolves have to do with Arithmancy?" hissed Sirius.

But James said, "Shhhhh. What about Remus?"

Sirius swore - under his breath, of course - but there was no time to prevent the woman from singing, because she had already started. Her voice was very deep and rich, and reminded James of molasses, although the tune was a fast one.

Sometimes the song would get the better of Marcie Mia and she would actually, literally, howl, raising her head to the ceiling and scaring the robes off of Peter, who had had the misfortune of sitting at the table nearest to her. James was extremely worried about Remus, but when he glanced over at his friend, he saw that Lily Sheridan was talking to him, distracting him. Remus looked very grateful for the diversion.

Inwardly, James cheered. Good thinking, Lily!

The song must have continued for more than ten minutes. Mostly, it was the chorus, over and over again. It was not having a good effect on the class. Professor Wilson, with his foot tapping and his head on one side, was the only one enjoying it. Peter, only two feet away from Marcie Mia, cowered in his seat; Sirius was grinding his teeth in annoyance. The repetition was getting to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Marcie Mia ended the song with a final, bloodcurdling howl and stood stock-still. Professor Wilson leapt to his feet and clapped enthusiastically. Out of fear, Peter joined in, but there was only weak applause from the rest of the class. James and Sirius kept their hands stubbornly still.

"What was that?" James demanded when she had left.

Professor Wilson seemed to think that this was an expression of awe. "I'm glad to see you enjoyed it, Mr. Potter. Miss Mia is quite the artist,

isn't she?" Nobody made a sound, so he continued. "Now that she is gone, the first question we must ask ourselves is: what did we learn from Miss Mia's visit?"

"Oh! Oh!" cried Sirius, his hand waving in the air. "I know, sir!"

Everyone looked warily at him, wondering if he had been bewitched.

"Yes, Mr. Black? What did you learn?" asked Professor Wilson.

"Hippies like wolves," Sirius said proudly. The class burst out laughing.