I didn't do it!

A/N: This one is more on building up for the next ones. And well, there's Luna. The Cursed Child thingy is not considered.

Also, unlike canon, where calendars were myths, and 31st October 1994 was a Saturday, this story has 31st October 1994 as a Tuesday as it really was.

In a decrepit house in Greater Hangleton, a very dirty, red and black, scaly, red-eyed, fanged baby was enjoying a game of Snake. Had this baby, housing the shade of one Lord Voldemort, realised that what it was enjoying would become a very popular muggle mobile phone game, he would have retched – and created more work for his minder.

Peter Pettigrew was no great shakes at transfiguration, but since the Dark Lord had threatened to set Nagini on him if he didn't comply and provide for the baby's playtime. So he had taken to summoning rats from the villages and stunning them and placing them on the floor while Nagini moved at weird angles. He had betrayed his human friends, so rats were no big deal anyway. When after eating twelve rats, she was blocked by herself, the game ended. Nokia really had to have a way to see that.

That set the Monster baby crying. "Waaah! Womtel!" it whined. Peter had the unfortunate duty of having to soothe the baby. As he approached it gingerly, he remembered Walburga Black. One particular thing that she had said to Sirius was very true for this baby.

She had called Sirius the shame of her flesh – something that the baby was for Peter, through some very dark rituals for the Baby-mort to be born in the first place.

"There, there, My Lord," he squeaked. "It's just a game! We will get you another!"

"NO! I wanna pway snake! Make Nagini eaf more!"

Even as a rat, Wormtail was feeling sympathetic towards the bloated snake which couldn't even summon up the energy to curl up. It seemed in dire need of digestives. Fortunately for it, the Baby had unwittingly spoken in Parseltongue, so it realised its intentions and with one burst of strength, slithered away. Volde-baby started crying again. This parental care thing was another thing Peter was absolutely poor at. Parseltongue took baby talk to an altogether new level. Knowing the kid's obsession, he proposed, "We can plan Potter's demise!"

The baby-mort thing giggled happily. "Yeth Womtel!" It lapsed into silence. "Bewfa Jowkins says that the Twiwizard iss in Hogwawts and Kawkawoff iss coming! Tell him to put Pottew's name into the cup as a student of a fouwf school!"

"But we will have to move to Bulgaria to meet him!"

"Stupid Womtel! I wiw caw him wif youw Mawk!"

"Yes Milord."

"And you wew stupid! Cwucio!"

Peter yelped and slapped the wand and hand away as the Unforgiveable hit him with all the force of a severe pinching hex. "Bad baby! Bad baby!"

Voldemort started crying again. "I am not bad baby!"

"You are a very bad baby! You should listen to me! Who's your daddy?"

The baby glared back. It grumbled about deserting pet snakes and idiotic minions who didn't realise what would happen to them once he was returned to his full power – by the very same minion.

"I couldn't hear. Who's your Daddy?"

"You are!"

"Good. So listen to me!"

Voldemort cried some more, before smirking and releasing a smell that resembled rotting...everything.

"Daddy? I juff did poopie!"

Peter groaned.

The rest of the summer after the World Cup was, for the others, as benign and as boring as could be. In retrospect, bragging about the prank to the twins was a terrible thing to do. It made them awestruck for precisely ten minutes, and then demoralised them so thoroughly that they did nothing but toss ideas of pranks at each other, day after day, only to be disappointed because no prank challenged the high standards set by the Marauders.

Of course, this meant that the Burrow had to listen to clanging pipes at all imaginable times, courtesy the ghoul, which replaced the series of blasts and bangs coming from the twins' room.

Thankfully for Harry, there was the internship with Padfoot and Moony. Of course, this had not been revealed – there was too much danger of his personal tutoring being spread across to include two more members at the very least. It was the sole positive of an otherwise drab summer. There were drab summers and then there was this really, really, terribly, horribly, boringly drab summer for anyone who lived at the Burrow. Well at least he had Padfoot and Moony to live with – or was it deal with?

Anyhow, being away from the Dursleys, and being spared of a seemingly sombre and solemn Burrow, and getting to spend time with real family while learning the traditions of said family, meant that the summer of '94 were the best days of his life so far.

So it was with a heavy heart that Harry left for Hogwarts on an extremely wet September the 1st. It was so different, in fact, that the Weasleys even reached the station early! Of course, Arthur, Charlie, and Bill being around to calm Molly's frazzled nerve helped. This meant that the morning passed of smoothly – too smoothly.

It was also why the train's announcement system was hijacked. There was nobody for Harry to share his newfound talents with – Hermione and pranks got together just as well as Hermione and broomsticks, which was to say they were enemies. The Weasleys were thoroughly bored of the boredom and insipidity of the summer past, barring the World Cup, where the twins had been shown up in the prank stakes, resulting in them practically losing their inspiration to pull pranks.

As it happened, every passenger on the train was soon listening to Gregory Goyle's emerging baritone as he hummed some songs by Blodwyn Bludd. Vincent Crabbe and Millicent Bulstrode were the willing audience in the compartment, bereft of Draco Malfoy...uh...Snape (he was taken in by his...father...after his parents had been arrested) and tagged with a listening spell. A thoroughly baffled but just as completely pleasantly surprised Gregory never realised why he was the centre of some adulation.

The declaration about the TriWizard Tournament filled Harry with a sense of foreboding. It also tore him a bit. For one, it was an excellent event to prank and disrupt. On the other hand, he was sure to get embroiled in it. Of course its participants would be declared on Halloween. Of course there would be some rules meant to keep him away (well, not just him), thankfully. And of course, those two would clash spectacularly and the Halloween curse would win.

Then he hated it because it was put in place of Quidditch. A shared scowl with the three Weasley brothers meant that they too had caught onto that fact, just before Dumbledore declared it. This needed some serious action. He had to find a way to ensure that even if he got caught into that tournament somehow, he would have people on his side – particularly someone who was known to not be on his side.

And then he remembered the perfect candidate.

The latest part of Harry's training was misdirection.

Sirius was standing, looking ridiculous in his attempts to emulate Moony's 'professor' persona near the blackboard which had a drawing on to describe a prank. In all honesty, it was a Heath Robinson mechanism for causing Moony to trip into a conveniently placed vat of glue and wool. There was a greater chance of success if Moony was left alone to his own devices after being forced to down a few glasses of firewhiskey. Of course, Sirius was concentrating on the end effect – a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"When planning a spectacular prank," Sirius lectured, "you should always have another, medium-to-high-level prank at the ready. Can you tell me why?"

Harry thought for a moment, before brightly answering, "In case the spectacular prank is a bust, the other prank can help save face."

Sirius' face slackened comically. "That might have been the reason why Prongs always had one waiting in the wings for all pranks," he conceded. Then gathering himself back again, he trudged on, "But that's not what I am trying to teach. The technique I am trying to tell you about involves accepting punishment."


"So that you can say "I didn't do it!""

"Why plan for a prank and get caught and then say I didn't do it?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Sirius.

"What are you talking about?" Harry could get confused by the simplest things at the best of times. He had learnt to get around the walking madness that masqueraded as his godfather, but sometimes it was still difficult.

"What I am talking about is being able to say "I didn't do it!" with regards to the spectacular prank that can possibly get you into detention for the rest of the year."

"So why didn't you just say that we make a prank-detention alibi?"

"Ah. Yes. We make a prank-detention alibi. I just thought that you had problems with big words."

Harry glared at his innocent-but-not-so-innocent godfather. "Have you done that?"

"We did. There was that time when Bellatrix Lestrange was having a party with all her Vulture and Hyena chums...

"Vultures and Hyenas...I get it... hee-hee-hee...the Death Eaters, right?"

"Yes. Them," Sirius batted aside Harry's interruption. "So she was having a recruitment party and we found out about it before and decided to play caterers. It was a blast! Every time those idiots would go to the buffet table to serve themselves and poke the serving ladle in, a dungbomb would go off. And you know the sort of awful odour it spreads. It wasn't much of a party. But Malfoy and Bella guessed it would be us and complained. As it so happened, we were all serving detention with Filch at that time. He is the best for such a detention. Everyone knows that he never lets people serving a detention under him to escape."

This tale enthralled Harry as did the 'cheat' that Sirius had inserted. Passing on the experience built over a career of seven solid years meant that both Sirius and Moony had the tendency to slip in such pointers, which had been compiled into cheat sheets. Had it been another subject Hermione would have been proud of the meticulous notes Harry had taken. Pranking was a Sirius...er...serious subject. (Customary cliché Sirius-serious pun inserted: check.)

At that moment, from Moony's room came a terrible yell. Harry smiled. He'd got Moony and Padfoot by the werewolf's own Potioneer's Instincts Ploy.

"YEEEAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!" hollered Remus. "Get this thing off me! Get this thing off me! GET THIS BLOODY MONSTER OFF ME!" he yelled as he wrestled with the innocuous little puffskein Harry had set on him while he was asleep.

Puffskeins ate the boogers of children, but as nobody was a child, technically, the poor hungry creature had evidently decided to eat what was available. As for Moony, ex-DADA professor or not, the very notion of having something stick its tongue into one's nose was as disconcerting as anything imaginable.

Sirius cast a well directed banishing charm at the creature just as Moony managed to free himself momentarily and tossed it away with another, only to now find himself at the end of its ministrations and Moony's wand.

"You put that thing in my room!"

"I didn't!" Sirius protested as he attempted to protect his boogers.

"You did! There was dog hair in my room! I checked just before that bloody monster decided it would attack me again while I was awake!"

"I didn't!"

"You did!"

"I didn't!"

"You did!"

Harry smiled victoriously as the two thirty three year old toddlers fought and the hungry Puffskein had two big sources and couldn't decide which to choose. He had collected Padfoot's hair as soon as Moony had taught him the Ploy. Padfoot shed like any dog.

Yes. That was the mission. He had to get detention from Filch, after dinner, and preferably with another witness, and for as long as the cantankerous caretaker could possibly stretch it. And he realised that he had just the candidates for the witnesses.

The other worry was Mad-Eye Moody. Harry hadn't realised that Sirius and Remus hadn't realised that in putting their pranks into practice and preparing for the same, they had been exercising CONSTANT VIGILANCE. Anyhow, they had drilled the necessity of finding out every person to be affected by the prank, or those that could affect it.

That apart (barring Moony) he had been the target of two of his previous three DADA teachers. So he would have to check this one well before he caused trouble. Troublemakers always checked out for sources of trouble for them. As either a DADA teacher or as an Auror, Moody could well be such a source.

So he had brought out the Map, which had immediately told him that Moody was, in fact, Moody. Alastor was his real name. So on that account, there was no problem. At least he wasn't an imposter, or worse, possessed as Quirrel was. A talk with the twins had revealed that the Map had flitted between Tom Riddle Jr. and Quirunus Quirrel.

He was just about to close the map, when he saw a lone figure walking around Ravenclaw Tower. It was Luna Lovegood.

"Ron!" Harry hissed. "Ron! Wake up!"

"G'way!" Ron mumbled.

"Get up you git, there's something on the Map!"

Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Ron got up. "Wassamatter?" he groaned.

"This girl Luna Lovegood, is she related to the Lovegoods that your Dad said lived around your place?"

Ron glared at Harry and then he glared at the Map. "You woke me up for Loony?" He then frowned as he saw Luna wandering around at midnight. Harry frowned a bit. Ron was not always the kindest person, but he still caught up with things fast, sometimes. And by 'fast', it refers to the German meaning of the word, which is 'almost'. "What's she doing outside at this time?"

That answered Harry's questions. "We should find out, don't you think?"

"Yeah," he answered with a yawn. "Just get the Twins, I think. They will know better – they studied that Map for four years."

Harry nodded. Ron was occasionally capable of logical suggestions.

A few minutes later, the four had caught up with Luna Lovegood. Bereft of shoes and wearing only a very long shirt, she was walking along and sobbing slightly.

"Luna, wait!" George called out. It was a matter of neighbourly care and the he wouldn't be found wanting.

"Hello Weasleys. Hello Harry Potter." Luna was sad.

"Hello. We are not going to ask questions, Luna, but we are going to take you to Gryffindor tower. Hermione's dorm has an extra bed in it, if you would like it." Fred's proposal was acceptable.

The real reason why no questions were asked was because they were sure it would likely result in lots and lots of hexing. Hermione was the cooler head.

Once Luna had been handed over to Hermione, Harry spoke out. He had a wicked grin on his face, one that reinvigorated the twins.

"What do you think about participating in a prank pulled by the Son of Prongs, the Godson of Padfoot and the Nephew of Moony?" he asked. There was no need to explain. The twins were cleverer than they let on, like all good pranksters.

"No wonder, your prank worked!" Fred cried. "I thought we had lost out to someone inferior, but you are pranking royalty! We are in!"

"Excellent!" cackled Harry with a grin. "Here's the plan..."

For the ensuing two months, the Weasley twins' pranks were of the most benign variety. It wasn't because they were still regrouping. Prongs' son's prank targeted bullies. And given the sheer shame factor involved, they had reined their wayward pranks in. One did not simply go up against the person who had pranked the minister and made his life hell, and in a manner that shamed him and a bunch of Death Eaters. No. There was no way they were going up against that. Also, the blonde git who'd have been a wonderful target was...untouchable. Every time the poor duo zeroed in on Draco, their minds were filled with images of Snape and Narcissa Black going at it, of their own volition. It always ended up scarring them mentally, a self-inflicted prank of epic proportions. It was particularly horrible because Narcissa by herself was the stuff of teenage male dreams.

On the other hand, Ron, and Harry and Hermione, were constantly checking the map. Somehow, whenever someone was bullied, Fred and George appeared on the scene. Within Ravenclaw, it was Luna who checked – she just had to be invisible and observe. Most days, she slinked into the background. Her friends were going to pull a massive prank which would be a double prank in reality.

Two months was a long time for the list to be perfected.

"Hermione, have you and Luna checked through the powder?" It had been difficult, convincing her. But when Harry explained how he most likely would end up in the TriWizard Tournament, she relented – and then rectified two errors in the plan.

"Yes Harry."

"Are you ready for your position by the Cup, twins?" They were going to set up the night-watch.

"Ron, the entire list is checked?"

"Yes." He was to monitor the bullies and stay out of the way with Hermione and Luna, otherwise. Hermione had coaxed him into adding all the worst bullies from their second year, and the Heir of Slytherin fiasco. Ron of course had added one more on the sly. It would prove to be a masterstroke.

"Harry, have you managed to find and charm the correct song?"

"Yes Harry, I have."

Harry received five stares and a poke from his girlfriend. "What?"

"Did you ask yourself that?"

"Well, I felt a little left out."

Hermione could only snort. "You are a prat Harry."

"I am. I am your prat." He gave her a small kiss on the cheek.

"Your Prongslet-y-ness, please teach us," Fred begged as Hermione erupted into a blush. Harry always ensured that she and everyone else knew that he was her boyfriend. He was rather adamant about that. Ron pretended to gag. Luna smiled dreamily.

"It is pure instinct, boys. With the right person, it just flows," Harry replied patronising condescension. It was important to give true compliments, and well, it really did come easily with Hermione. "But really, it is just the Prongs-y genes. Sorry, you aren't lucky enough for those, mates. Padfoot and Moony showed me my dad's memories. He was like that when he was with mum." Then he went green, all of a sudden.

"What's the matter?"

"They also showed me a memory of my Granddad giving them all The Talk." Harry shuddered violently. "Dad asked questions and related everything Grandpa said to my mum. And I only have their photographs, but they are my parents, and when dad spoke, my mind immediately went there and..." Harry shuddered again.

"Honestly Harry!" Hermione scolded. "Obviously they did that. How else would you be born?"

"That's my parents we are talking about!"

"And it is perfectly natural."

"Hermione, take it from us," Fred cut in. "You don't want to go there."

"Yes," George added sombrely, though he looked quite a bit green as well. "Parents and thoughts of that... People should never be exposed to such harsh truths about their parents."

"You can't honestly believe that."

"You didn't walk in on your parents, did you?"

Hermione frowned. "No."

"We did..."

"...we were small, you know, just twelve..."

"...innocent little boys we were..."

Everyone snorted, bar the twins. Innocence was related to these two as much as Harry and Voldemort were.

"It was just after our first year..."

"...it was a sweltering summer night..."

"...when we heard groans and moans..."

"...and we were sure that the ghoul had eaten Ron and had come down the stairs..."

"So we checked his room and the ghoul wasn't there, though he was..."

"...so we followed the noises..."

"...noises which were coming from our dad and mum's room ..."

"...so we were sure that the ghoul was going to eat them..."

"...we knew a fair few spells..."

"...so we attacked and threw the door open..."

"And well, I suppose you get the idea," George completed with a violent shudder of his own.

"Well, I suppose that takes the top prize in awkwardness. I only had my momentary imagination. You had a true visual to go with it," Harry declared in a small voice. If thinking of James and Lily was bad, thinking of Molly and Arthur was worse. He had actually seen and could remember them as real, living people. Snape-Narcissa, an image which most likely had replaced Dementors as Harry's boggart, was immediately replaced by Mrs. Weasley's lusty moans as she called out to her husband in passion. It caused Harry to whimper involuntarily.

"We saw that," Fred replied, astutely realising what Harry must have imagined.

"And we heard it," added George.

"I – I just think we should get on with our original prank," Ron suggested in a strangled voice. A still unconvinced Hermione, a silent but very wholly amused Luna, Harry and the Weasleys broke up to perform their parts of the prank.

Once the announcements for the evening had been made, the plan was sprung into action. Bullies across houses found a small extra of whatever they had eaten on their plate, and amusingly, thought nothing of it.

All the people ate that extra piece laced with a compulsion charm as one, and sure enough, they faced colic troubles. Before they were even sure of what was happening, each of them broke wind. Well, they broke odourless wind in giant pink coloured letters that seeped through their clothes, which acted as filters for the odour; so of course the odour stuck to them. The letters formed the word 'BULLY' above their heads. It was a vicious prank on vicious bullies.

It was all as expected, till things went wrong and Snape – the Potions Master – was caught, as was his son. Harry paled. Minerva caught the expression, even though nobody else did. Ever since Dumbledore had told her that that boy, Black, was innocent, and who had helped him escape, she had known that he would corrupt Potter. Black couldn't have been innocent – on general principle – just as he couldn't have been a Death Eater. She just mouthed, "My office!" for the teen to understand that his foray into embarrassing pranks had successfully failed to fail.

Of course, he wasn't going to take the fall for the prank alone. He nudged Ron in the ribs hard enough for the boy to choke on his chicken – which of course had gone in without the courtesy of being bitten off the bone. As such, the nudge and the bone both choked Ron. His eyes began to water as he flailed his arms frantically. Harry immediately gave his best mate's back a few hard thwacks. Never the ones to miss the opportunity to take the mickey out of Ron, the twins added a few resounding thwacks of their own. It was enough to cause Ron to stand up, once the bone was dislodged and very un-artistically expelled from his throat to retaliate.

"I want you four in my office, RIGHT NOW!" hissed Minerva as she stood at Ron's shoulder. Never – never – had Gryffindors brought the school such shame. So much shame in fact, that she had had to descend upon them from the Head Table. Harry had a hard time hiding his glee.

Sure enough, McGonagall gave them all a massive firing in her office, before assigning them detentions with a gleeful Filch (who was grinning with an expression bordering on insanity) through that very night. And of course they got to clean the trophy room. And of course, Harry tarnished Tom Riddle's trophy by every possible means, thereby having to clean it over and over and over. And of course, Harry poured enough of the cleansing agent per iteration of the cleaning process, that the trophy started wearing off. Any person attempting to read the name would see 'To Diddle', probably, because with the letter 'm' and the lower part of the 'R' obliterated it could as well have been a capital D. He reckoned that he should have achieved an award for obliterating that shameful part of the school's history.

By four thirty a.m., Harry was escorted by Filch (the others were allowed to leave early). He had his alibi.

"MR. POTTER!" scolded McGonagall, shaking the boy out of his mid-lecture slumber. A sniggering bunch of classmates didn't exactly make for a happy awakening, but there it was. The 31st October was a Tuesday (in non-fictional realities conforming to Gregorian Calendars), so the Gryffindor, deprived of sleep due to the alibi-detention, had no respite. Well, that was a small sacrifice really.

"Yes, Mr. Filch, I've cleaned all those damned trophies. Lemme sleep!"

McGonagall was torn between grinding her teeth in anger and a reluctant smile at the antics which reminded her of the boy's scamp of a godfather. Then there was the anger at being mistaken for Filch. As a cat animagus, the constant companionship of the caretaker with Mrs. Norris gave shivers. It gave her a positively Umbridge-cum-Snape-esque expression – not that the students knew that. It certainly spooked everyone however.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for sleeping in class, Mr. Potter!" scolded the Transfiguration teacher. "And ten more, I believe, for your language!"

"Thank you, Minnie Cat."

McGonagall opened her mouth to gape as the class burst into chortles. She knew the reference, having caught Lily Potter laughing about it. Apparently Minnie was a muggle cartoon mouse. She wanted to hand Potter more detentions, but then decided that that honour should actually be bestowed upon Black and Lupin.

She thought the Headmaster was senile ever since he had suggested that Mrs. Norris and she should be the best of friends, and that Mrs. Norris could probably be convinced to be the godmother to her children, if she did get married. Unfortunately, she was forced to revaluate that opinion. It was a very good thing that Black hadn't raised Potter.

She had never ended a class in such an undignified manner before.

As Ron and Hermione half-dragged a drowsy Harry to the Gryffindor common room, the redhead couldn't help chortling.

"What is it?" snapped Hermione.

"You know, today is Halloween."

"And?" she demanded.

"And since there seems to be no other way in which he could get into trouble, he created some trouble for himself."

Hermione snorted, before Harry replied. "Don't jinx it, Ron. There's still the bloody Goblet. Bare four cats?"

With the recent incident of his best friend calling McGonagall a cat in class still too fresh, Ron turned decidedly green. "Bare what?"

"Ewww! Don't bare anything! I asked you whether you'd care for a bet."

"No. In spite of your measures against it, your luck is horrible enough for that," answered Hermione.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Ron in a very perplexed manner.

"You'll see..." answered Hermione.

The next part of the prank kicked off almost as soon as the feast started. The Jack-o-lanterns first started flying around cackling in the hall, before each settled on the head of a bully. This newly formed choir presented a wonderful vocal rendition of Toccata and Fugue (D Minor). By now everyone knew who had pulled the prank, with Snape raging about Potter and his godfather.

Oddly enough, the prank got them points.

"Thank you for such a wonderful rendition of a piece of music that encapsulates the theme of today," Dumbledore declared grandly. "Twenty points to each of the performers and the orchestrators of this event."

McGonagall's eyes bugged a bit when she found out that one more Gryffindor than she had counted, including the bullies, had got points. She assumed it would be Lee. Then her eyes bugged out more to compete with the eyes of the subject of Dumbledore's next impromptu announcement.

"As our esteemed Potions Master, Severus Snape has led the choir in this piece, it behoves me to announce the start of the Hogwarts School Orchestra, and a special elective in Magical Music. The classes will of course, be conducted by Professor Snape."

A Hogwarts record of the wettest group food/drink spray was made that night. Interestingly, there were foreign participants as well, in spite of them knowing of the man only for a day.

"You know what this means don't you?" Harry asked his girlfriend.


"When Mal- Snape says "when my father hears of this..." Professor Snape will hear us and correct our notes."

"At least he can do that here. He never does it in Potions," she replied dryly.

As it was, several cleaning Charms had to be cast on everybody before the names could be announced.

When they were, people edged away subtly from Ron, fearing that they would be caught in the spray of some bodily fluids when both Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were announced. He seemed to be more than just excited, blissfully so. Friends they might be, but some things are always supposed to b strictly private.

The announcement of Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts Champion was no surprise either.

An even smaller surprise, to those who were preparing for it, was Harry's name coming out of the Goblet.

"Hey! Stop that!" protested Harry as soon as Dumbledore bade him to come. "I never put in my name!"

"Cheating and then crying out about your innocence, are you, Potter?" asked Karkaroff with a sneer.

Harry ignored him. "Well, I don't care who this idiot is, but you can ask Mr. Filch who was overseeing our detention till half past four this morning. I even lost points in Transfiguration for sleeping in class because of that."

"Mr. Filch nearly killed us with the cleaning sir," Ron and the Twins added in support. "He nearly set that demon cat on us sir. And you don't know the time and effort it takes to come up with that Taco and Fudge song and charm it onto these gits. When was he supposed to do that?"

Hermione slapped her forehead as did the Twins, Luna and Harry. Ron's Runaway Mouth was always a problem.

Snape snappily sang out "Detention!" in response. That would be the third of the week.

"They are being speaking the truth, Headmaster," Filch agreed proudly. "He is even serving another detention on Saturday after he destroyed one of the trophies which he was cleaning. I didn't let him sleep a wink while he cleaned sir. Can I eviscerate him for destroying the trophy?"

This pronouncement made everyone look at the man oddly. Such threats against a student were not considered normal or acceptable among school staff in most civilised schools.

"He was always in the trophy room, was he?"

"Yes sir. Didn't let him move an inch, I didn't. Even threatened him with a few cracks of the whip for defiling that trophy, I did."

"So he has an alibi then," declared Dumbledore.

A long spell of deliberations went on between the three Heads of Schools with Karkaroff doing his utmost to malign Harry, Madame Maxime taking the stance that Harry was not at fault since he couldn't have put in his name and the alibi was a good one, and Dumbledore trying to elicit a response from the gigantic woman by tickling her chin with his Wizard's Hat – literally. He was mightily affronted by the fact that the woman was taller than him, if his face was anything to go by.

The end result was still the unwanted one. Harry had to compete.

"Just out of curiosity, though, my boy, can you tell me which trophy you defiled?"

"The one that Tom Riddle got sir," answered Harry tongue-in-cheek.

"What did you do to it?"

"Sent him a message, sir."

"What message would that be?"

Filch brought them the trophy to see. Everyone saw the rude message and started snickering.

"And what does this message mean?" asked Dumbledore. He kept asking as he was the only one who knew who Tom Riddle later became.

"I was taught about the birds and the bees by my close family this summer sir. I figured it was all the frustration that turned him into Voldemort. Perhaps it may help calm down a bit."

"Petew!" shouted the demon-baby. "How did Pottew know what is goof fo' me an' you didn't? Diddle me!"

"You are too young for that!"

"I am youw mastew!"

"I am your Daddy!"

"Diddle me daddy!"

Peter cursed the Potter boy for his very existence.

"Now I wanna punish Kawkawoff!" demon-baby declared once it had urinated all over Peter's hands. "He coudn' take away Pottew's fweinds and make ewwyone caw him a cheatew. He is a cheatew. I cast the Killing cuwse and he didn't die. Pottew iss a fiwthy cheatew!"

The constant whining of the Dark Lord was a fair approximation of the Snape-Malfoy hybrid brat and it got on Peter's nerves.

"We can't go there my lord."

"I wanna! I wanna! I wanna!"

Peter seriously contemplated being around Nagini in his rat form