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Tickle the Pear


Peter stuck his head ‘round the corner, peering down the corridor, then ducked back, pressing himself to the wall. Beside him, Remus stood, gritting his teeth ‘round a good-sized clump of aconite and trying to tell himself that the smell of all the food would not make him throw up. Peter looked up at Remus. “I didn’t see anyone down there. I think the coast’s clear.”

“Alright. What do we need to do again?” Remus asked.

“Down the hall, cut left at the end, and there’s a big picture of a bowl of fruit. Tickle the pear.”

“Tickle the pear.”

“Yes. Tickle the pear.”

“Does Sirius know about tickling the pear? I feel like he would’ve said a lot more than just you lot go to the kitchens.”

“I’ve never told anyone,” Peter answered. “Bilius Weasley told me.” He snuck closer to the corner again and peeked once again. “Alright. Still clear. Let’s go.” He scurried - that’s the only word Remus could think of for what he did - rushing quickly along with teensy little tiptoe-like steps, keeping to the walls, weaving as he went...

Remus walked along behind, limping slightly, lucky he was moving at all.

Sure enough, lit by a couple torches on each side, which flickered in the dark, a huge painting of a bowl of fruit hung there on the wall, a great brown-green pear in the center of the bowl. Peter leaned against the wall beside it, watching Remus come, and when he was nearly there, Remus watched a Peter reached up carefully, extended one finger, and wobbled it against the canvas right over the pear.

The pear giggled.

Peter tickled it more, adding more fingers, then both hands, until the pear was in tears, it’s great bulbous bottom shaking like Kris Kringle, and a voice wheezed, “Alright, alright, you can go in… you can go in!”

The portrait swung open.

Remus leaned ‘round the frame to look at the fruit bowl in curiosity, wondering who had spoken - there were no people in the painting. “What?” asked the voice he’d heard a moment before, “Ain’t you never seen a talkin’ pear before? Move along!”

Remus turned and followed Peter into the kitchen.

“Peter! Peter Pettigrew! Peter’s here! Look, it’s Peter!”

Several squeaky little voices shouted at once in glee at the sight of Peter walking in. Remus looked around. It was a sea of house elves. “Blimey,” he whispered, looking about as they all rushed forward, waving and squeaking excitedly, offering cookies and butterbeer and ice cream and roast sandwiches, each desperate to be the one whose wares Peter chose to take. “And you make it sound like stealing food is a conquest.” He looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow.

“Well,” Peter flushed, “You saw how long a walk it was down here.”

“Did I ever,” Remus agreed solemnly.

It took some time for Remus and Peter to explain to the elves the purpose of them being there, and even more time to convince them to look the other way while Remus and Peter waved their wands to open the lids of all of the tea pots set out for the Valentine’s Day Tea across all of the tiny little tables that spattered the staging area for the Great Hall above… Remus murmured, “Dunno, I still can’t help but wonder if this is a good idea!”

“Sirius said he thought it all the way through,” Peter said supportively.

“Yes, Sirius did say that,” Remus answered, nodding, “And that’s precisely what’s got me worried.”




Upstairs, James and Sirius were sitting on a tall spiral staircase, crouching on a thick blue carpet beneath the invisibility cloak, their backs pressed to the stone wall. Sirius was practically holding his breath and James leaned against him tightly packed, his legs hugged to his chest. Above them, on the landing, Marlene McKinnon and Emmaline Vance stood, mulling over a riddle the great bronze eagle knocker was asking them for access into the Ravenclaw common room.

Sirius leaned closer, his chin on the top step as he peered over at them.

“Could you repeat it just once more?” Emmaline requested the knocker.

“Certainly,” said the bird in a very official sounding tone. It cleared it’s throat and opened its beak again, “What is a word made up of four letters. Yet is made up of three. Although is made up of eight letters, then with four. Rarely consists of six. Never is written with five.

The girls bowed their heads together, whispering quietly for sometime and Sirius strained, trying desperately to hear what they were saying. He looked at James, who shrugged, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “Son of a banshee, could you imagine fucking wormtail trying to get in if the Fat Lady pulled rubbish like this?”

“There’s a reason he isn’t in Ravenclaw,” James whispered. “For that matter, there’s a reason I’m not, too.”

“I’d blast the damned door open. I’d be like, look here, Beaky and send a good reducto right in that smartarse beak of his….” Sirius hissed.

“True enough,” Marlene announced, and for a second Sirius thought she’d overheard him and was answering what he’d said, but he spun about to see she was addressing the blasted knocker and the eagle’s beak split wide into a sort of grin.

“Very well, you may enter!” and the door, which had no handles, swung open.

How is that the bleeding answer?” James asked, confused.

Sirius lunged forward the moment the girls’ feet had crossed the threshold and he belly flopped onto the carpet, sliding across it and only just getting the tip of his wand into the door frame before it closed. The bronze eagle stared down at him with beady, suspicious eyes.

“C’mon Prongs, hurry it up!” Sirius hissed and James leaped forward, tugging the invisibility cloak over he and Sirius as he swooped over and together they slipped into the Ravenclaw common room.

“Bloody hell,” James whispered as they entered, “There’s more books in here than there are in the bleeding library!” He stared around at the tall, round walls that seemed to stretch into eternity in bookshelves lined with tomes, tall ladders on wheels that swept about on every level so that even the shortest of people (James couldn’t help but think of Professor Flitwick) could reach even the tallest of shelves. “No wonder they’re all smart!”

Sirius nudged James to follow him and they walked, following a spiraling walkway that went up-up-up the tower. The walls were painted with bright bronze and gold stars and there were notes spellotaped positively everywhere - mostly notes of encouragement and random flash-card like questions with numbers written in the top corner to indicate which year students ought test themselves with that note. They were following Marlene and Emmaline along until they got to a door and Marlene opened it up and James’s eyes widened to realize this was their bedroom and there wasn’t even a separation like there was in Gryffindor and he wondered what had made the founders so sure that it was only Gryffindor boys that needed to be kept out of the girls bedrooms with violent staircases…

Sirius dragged James quickly against the wall and they hunkered down by the desks as Marlene picked up a textbook. Emmaline fluffed a dress that lay across one of the beds. “It’s just so pretty. I’m so jealous. You’re going to look fabulous there with Andy. Carly’s insane for breaking up with him!”

I know,” Marlene sighed.

“Is it really because of his eyes she’s done it?” Emmaline asked.

“That’s what Annalee says,” Marlene answered, “But really, Em, don’t hold it against Carly; my sister’s horrible with starting rumors. You know that.”

Emmaline laughed.

“LIke the rubbish with Sirius Black - absolute rubbish,” Marlene added, and she ran her fingers over the dress on the bed, too, then sighed, “C’mon, let’s go. The faster we get this paper done, the sooner we can start working on our hair for the Tea!” And together they scrambled out of the room, pulling shut the door behind her.

James stood upright as Sirius pulled the cloak off them. He waved his wand, “Colloportus.” He looked at James. “What’s she on about with Annalee and rubbish with me?” he asked, dusting himself off as he glanced over the bronze coloured dress on Marlene’s bed and made a face, “Ugh. Hideous. Why do girls wear things like that?” He shook his head and looked back at James.

“Dunno,” James lied. He looked about. “Where do you reckon she would keep this polly-ride machine?”

“Polaroid,” Sirius corrected. He shrugged, “Dunno, have a look about the desks. It’s black, big box of a thing. We’ll need to be sure it has film, too; bloody waste of time if it doesn’t have film.”

James and Sirius started opening drawers. As they looked, Sirius said, “Oi, reckon whatever rubbish Annalee’s got with me is what her and Moony were fighting about the other day in the common room?”

“Possibly,” James answered. He knew of course, but this was not something that he, James, was going to get into with Sirius. Telling Sirius Black that half the school thought he might possibly be a murderer working for the Dark Lord was hardly something James Potter was going to tell.

“AHA!” Sirius announced, emerging from a drawer in the desk with the camera they were hunting for. He looked it over. “Alright. How does one use this bleedin’ thing now? Where’s the film at? Let’s see…” he stared into the great white square at the top and tilted it about, trying to figure out which end was up… then he found a button and clicked it and --

“FUCK!”

The flash had gone off directly in his eyes and with a whirring and a hiss, the camera started working on producing a picture.

“Galloping gargoyles, I’ve been blinded!” Sirius complained, seeing spots, “Mother of Merlin -- Prongs, where are you?” he waved about his palms frantically, feeling out into the air until his palm flapped against James’s face, “Oi is that your face I’m slapping?” he asked, even though he knew perfectly well it was, and James swatted him away and the pair of them stood there slapping at each other until they heard it.

“Stop it stop it stop it!” James hissed, and he pointed to the door, “Somebody’s coming! Probably heard you yelling!” He looked around.

“What do we do?!” Sirius hissed.

“How should I know?! You’re the brains of this operation!”

Sirius said, “I’ve been blinded! You really expect me to be thinking?”

James grabbed the invisibility cloak as there came a whispered, “Alohamora!” at the door and it swung open as James hurriedly yanked Sirius across the room.

Marlene and Emmaline entered the dormitory, their wands raised, “Who’s there?” Emmaline demanded, looking about, waving her wand - but there was nobody there - just an open window and a fluttering blue silk curtain. “I could’ve sworn I heard --” Emmaline started to say, but then Marlene cleared her throat and she turned to look.

Marlene was holding up a photograph, freshly developed, of Sirius Black making a terrible squinting face, looking a bit like a disgruntled horse. She raised an eyebrow and both girls ran to the window to look out. Sirius and James were running along the roof, having jumped down about two meters from the window, stumbling along, a loose roofing tile sliding off to the ground from beneath Sirius’s thick black boots.

“YOU BLEEDIN’ IDIOTS!” Marlene screamed, “BRING BACK MY CAMERA!”

Sirius turned and aimed the thing, remembering to aim the white box away this time, and hit the button on the top. The thing whirred and clicked and he grinned and waved, “WE WILL…. WHEN WE’RE DONE WITH IT! THANKS LOVE!” and they reached the end of the building… Marlene and Emmaline watched as James and Sirius threw themselves onto their arses and slid down the short roof and swung themselves onto the stone bridge.

Marlene looked at Emmaline. “Honestly!”

Emmaline was laughing.