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Hot school 76'

It is the last hot day of fall. An inclement heat, leaden sky, thick mist. The storm has been announced for days but has not been discharged. James's so irritated by the temperature, it burns his nerves, his muscles weigh down. He taps his fingers on the scrolls that he is unable to pay attention to. Sirius also does not cope well with the suffocating heat, feeling that time has stopped and has hopelessly locked them in a furnace from which they will never find the exit. He doesn't stop moving the leg under the table. And he stares at his duties as if they could move only with the intensity of his reluctance.

- I'm bored, Potter.

It is not a statement, nor is it a cliché. The "I'm bored" with him is a demand for them to Do. Something. Now. His boredom threatens to set the building on fire just to watch it burn and entertain himself.

- We could do something.

They have always been specialists in doing something. Something mythical. Something magic. Something devilish. Something historical. Something. But what. Dyeing the food, pouring Lilluputian soap into the elven laundry, or -Sirius watches the hunched, limping, dark figure of Severus Snape crossing the garden- they could go into the old art of torturing a Slytherin.

- Prongs.

- What.

-With all this heat, don't you think Quejicus must be bothered by all those clothes?

His irritability turns to energy. He smiles like a knife.

- Of course. - James smells the mischief in the air. - Someone should help him get rid of it.

And they are always available to help others. It's hard work, but someone has to do it.