All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

First Year : Mauraders

Wednesday 15th September 1971

The next morning Sirius leapt out of bed, heart pounding in his chest. He could hardly wait to see the results of their work. James seemed to feel the same way—he was already awake, shaking Peter and crowing, “Rise and shine!” Sirius followed suit, throwing open the curtains on Remus’s bed. The skinny boy groaned when the sunlight flooded across his face.

Despite their friends’ protests, James and Sirius ensured that they were some of the first students into the Great Hall for breakfast. The Gryffindor table was completely empty, as were Hufflepuff and Slytherin—there were a few older Ravenclaw students, hunched over their books.

“Perfect,” Sirius declared, thrilled with the empty benches, “Front row seats!”

“Bet no one shows up for hours,” Peter whinged, looking like he was about to pass out in his porridge bowl.

“Oh, cheer up,” James poured them all large mugs of tea, “Don’t want to see the fruits of our labour?”

“Not at six in the morning,” grumbled Peter, slurping his tea loudly. Sirius winced at the sound and pushed a plate towards him,

“Have some toast and stop whinging.”

Remus, who always seemed to perk up when presented with food, was already cutting a slice of toast into four pieces. Sirius watched as he layered a different spread onto each quarter—marmalade, jam, butter, and lemon curd. He raised a brow, bemused, when Remus caught his eye, but the other boy just smiled benignly and tucked into his breakfast.

Contrary to Peter’s claim, it didn’t take long at all for other students to begin trickling in for breakfast. Remus had just finished scarfing down his toast when a group of Slytherins arrived—three boys and two girls, third years. The four Gryffindors watched intently as they made their way to their table, sitting down and reaching out for platters of food.

Sirius felt as though he might burst with anticipation. They waited, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The Slytherins poured themselves tea, buttered toast, and spooned eggs onto their plates without any difficulty. Sirius sighed, disappointed, and wondered if Remus had been wrong about the rosehip seeds…

But then. The tallest boy shifted in his seat, rubbing at his arm. His friend bent down, furiously scratching his leg whilst trying to act as if he were looking for something in his pocket. The third boy kept sticking his wand behind his ear to itch.

“It worked!” James whispered, excitement barely restrained in his hushed voice. Even Peter was smiling now, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

As the morning wore on, more and more Slytherins filtered in, and their problem quickly became obvious to anyone watching. By seven o’clock, the Slytherin table was full of squirming, writing, scratching boys, and horrified girls looking on in dismay. It was completely hilarious—across the room, watching students snickered and pointed at the scratching Slytherins. One nasty-looking sixth year, Amycus Carrow, ripped his robes, school jumper, and tie clean off to claw at his chest—already bright red from the boy’s ministrations.

By the time Snape came in, Sirius thought he might die of laughter. Poor Severus appeared to have had a particularly bad reaction to the rosehip seeds. He skulked in with his head bowed, trying to cover his face with his hair (how did manage to get it THAT greasy?). It didn’t work—his nose stuck out, and was visibly shiny and red.