Archive of Our Own

The day after Sirius's trial, Remus was making breakfast in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Sirius shuffled in and flopped onto his chair, just as he used to when they were teenagers. "Is breakfast ready, Moony?"

Remus quickly took stock of his preparations. "Almost. We're waiting on the toast."

Sirius gasped dramatically. "I DID MY WAITING!"

Remus sighed and dropped his head, already completely done with the day.

"TWELVE YEARS OF IT! IN AZKABAN!"

Remus gave it a moment of silence before turning and glaring at his lover "Are you quite finished?"

Sirius gave him that wicked pranking grin that had always made his heart pound. "For now."

A moment later, Harry stumbled in, mid yawn. It had taken them over a week to get him to stop getting up at the crack of dawn to cook, and now he was finally behaving more like a normal teenager. "Morning," he mumbled. "Breakfast?"

"We're waiting on toast!" Sirius said cheerfully, like he had not just had a meltdown over that very fact.

In an instant, Harry's whole demeanor shifted. His eyes widened dramatically and he flung himself into his chair. "I DID MY WAITING!" he shrieked, startling Moony and almost making Remus drop the plate of bangers. "TWELVE YEARS OF IT! IN DURZKABAN!"

Sighing deeply, Remus asked, "Is this going to happen every morning now?"

"Depends. Is the toast going to be late every morning?" Sirius asked cheerfully.

Remus gave him the stink eye. "You two are very lucky I love you."

He received matching innocent smiles and sighed again. It was going to be a very long summer.

"Are we ready to call this staff meeting to order?" Albus asked, peering over his spectacles at the assembled group of professors.

"We're waiting on Severus," Minerva informed him briskly.

Remus desperately didn't want to, but a bet was a bet. Harry and Sirius were supposed to be setting up his quarters for the new school year, but he had no doubts that they had followed him to the staff meeting instead. And Remus was certain that they would be listening in with the twins' newest invention, so they'd know that he hadn't followed through. "I DID MY WAITING!" He hollered, failing to achieve the volume that his lover and godson did, but still making the other professors jump in shock. "TWELVE YEARS OF IT! IN MOONKABAN!"

His wolf hearing picked up the distinct sound of familiar sniggers from the hall outside the teacher's lounge.

"My dear boy, was that entirely necessary?" Albus asked, frowning at him in confusion.

"Have ya gone mad?" Minerva grumbled.

"Yes." Remus shrugged, maintaining a straight face and suppressing an embarrassed blush through years of long practice with a boyfriend who loved whispering dirty things in public that only his enhanced hearing could detect. "I know you wanted me to be a good influence on Harry and Sirius, Sir, but they ganged up on me. It was two against one; I didn't stand a chance. We're all mad now."

Bathsheba snorted, and Remus gave her a speculative look. He hadn't expected anyone here to catch the Lewis Carrol reference.

"I see," Albus sighed severely. "Can I expect that to happen quite frequently?"

Remus grinned. "Let's just say you should be very careful what you say around those two."

"Now, who is missing?" Albus asked, peering around the table at the newly reformed Order. He had allowed Harry to attend, against his better judgment, when all three of the Potter-Lupin-Blacks agreed to speak respectfully for the entire meeting. The newly of age Weasley twins were also present, but Albus had had the foresight to place them at the opposite end of the table from the Marauders.

"We're just waiting on Kingsley and Alastor," Tonks said cheerfully, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Albus winced automatically, but true to their word, the three wizards remained silent, though their grins were not promising.

A moment later, Dobby popped onto the table, standing on Harry's empty plate. He was wearing what appeared to be a shrunken down Potter quidditch jersey — from Harry's first year, no doubt — and several layers of brightly colored socks. "I DID MY WAITING!" he squeaked, looking nervous.

Because of the angle he stood at, Albus could see Harry reach up and subtly place his hand against Dobby's back, clearly offering reassurance, as the elf straightened and continued on more confidently. "TWELVE YEARS OF IT! IN MALFOYZKABAN!"

He popped away as Harry, Remus, Sirius, Tonks, and the Weasley twins burst into laughter.

Minerva sighed heavily. "Dare I say I'm almost getting used to that."

"Boys…" Albus said warningly.

"As promised, Professor—" Sirius said.

"—We didn't say a thing!" Remus concluded.

"Yes, well, clearly I need to be much more specific in my wording the next time I make a deal with you," Albus decided.

The younger duo chimed in. "We're just helping everyone—" Harry said, still snickering.

"—Practice CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Tonks concluded, just as Moody stomped into the kitchen, Kingsley at his heels.

"And a good thing, too," he growled.

Albus elected to not to argue further, certain they would have several more bits of interesting logic to throw his way. "Very well; now that we're all here…"

"I've been waiting so long for this," Voldemort hissed, circling Harry.

To the Death Eaters' surprise, several groans went up from their opponents. A moment later, shrieks rang out across the battlefield, making many of them jump in fright, wondering if a hoard of banshees had joined the final battle.

"I DID MY WAITING!" Numerous voices screamed.

The Order Members, well used to this, didn't even flinch, and the tide of several duels turned in that moment, as they downed their startled opponents.

"TWELVE YEARS OF IT!" Others chorused.

"IN POTIONSKABAN!"

"HISTORY OF MAGICKABAN!"

"IN DETENTIONKABAN!"

"IN WAIT UNTIL MY FATHER HEARS ABOUT THISKABAN!"

"What?" Voldemort gaped, eyes sweeping around the battlefield, attempting to figure out what madness had suddenly struck those of the Light.

The moment his attention flickered, he went sailing through the air, much as his right hand man had some five years earlier. He heard a faint snap as his wand was ripped from his hand and flew in a different direction. Voldemort landed at Potter's feet, and the sword that had killed his beloved Nagini earlier that day quickly sliced through his own neck. Potter smirked down at him as his magic attempted in vain to heal the damage. A moment later his wand hand met the same fate as Barty's had during the restoration ritual. Voldemort desperately wanted to taunt the brat that he would show him no mercy upon his return, but his voice was gone.

"In Horcruxkaban," Potter murmured smugly as darkness began to swallow him. "But thankfully those are all gone now."

"No!" Voldemort attempted to shout, getting nothing more than a weak sputter.

"Bye Tom," Potter smirked. "Your flight from death ends now."

"That was terrible," said a voice Voldemort recognized as Black, though he couldn't make out his figure. "History's going to record your last words to old Snakeface forever, and you went with a French translation joke?"

"Oh, and your humor is so much better?" Potter snarked back. "You really want History to record me calling him Mouldyshorts instead?"

Voldemort attempted to fight his way out of the darkness and curse them both for their insolence, but it was consuming him.

"It could be worse," said another voice. Was that the old fool's pet wolf? "He could have played the You Know Who's on First Base game."

"No I don't know who!" Potter snickered.

The last thing Voldemort ever heard was a house elf squeaking "Third Base!" and his enemies' raucous laughter.