Chapter 10
"Trippetta."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Trippetta."
"The same to you mate."
Sirius gazed up at the ceiling of the boys' dormitory, watching an abnormally large fly moving upside down. "I swear to Merlin, that fly is enormous it could take over the world." He grabbed one of James' smelly brown socks. "It must be killed." Swinging the sock around a few times, he flung it up at the fly where it hit the ceiling and bounced back down -as foreseeable with gravity- and the sock slapped into his face. "Did I get it, Prongs?" he asked, though he was incredibly unheard as a sock was covering his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the fly reappear as it took a saunter of the ceiling once more. "Damn that bloody insect's reflexes! Every sodding time!"
"Trippetta. That's its name: Trippetta."
Lazing across his bed, Sirius rolled with some impressive flobberworm-like turning to face James with the most perplexed look. "Prongs, I haven't got the foggiest idea what you're on about."
Striding across the room, James revealed with a sort of anguished grimace the fuchsia potted plant from behind his back, stretching it out in front of him so it lingered in front of Sirius' nose.
"I'm not hungry, thank you," Sirius said, crossing his eyes as he examined the plant near his nostrils, "But if I want to eat that…green thing, I'll let you know."
"You can't eat it," James shook his head, "It isn't edible. And it's my test. You can't eat my test."
Sirius slowly nodded. "Righto…"
Humming a jovial tune, Peter stepped into the boys' dormitory and immediately froze as his eyes landed on the potted plant in James' hand. His eyes lit up.
"That's a fuchsia plant," Peter stated. "I like fuchsia."
His announcement for the love of the colour did not surprise anyone in the room, including the very fuchsia plant.
"I told Lily you would like it, Wormtail," James mentioned. Clearly he still thought that the unsatisfactory 'gift' would be better for Peter who would appreciate it much more than him.
"Can you move that green thing away from my face now?" Sirius asked, crinkling his nose. James still made no signs of moving the pot that had started extracting soil from the holes of the bottom, now leaving trails of mess on the already dirty floor. "The leaves are tickling my nose."
The final Marauder, Remus, entered the dormitory, looking highly distressed. "I don't want to alarm you or anything," he said, though it was plain to see he was alarmed as ever, "but…I've lost a book."
"That's interesting," Sirius yawned. He shot James a furtive look which asked 'Are you going to point out our werewolf's freakish obsession for books or shall I?'
He went for the latter.
"Why don't you look for the book, say, under your bed? And while you're searching for it, maybe you should find a PAIR OF BALLS TOO. What are you even doing, you stupid poof, worrying about lost books! You shouldn't be searching for sodding literature; you should be searching for birds!" He waved his hand in the air to give Remus a mental slap to the back of his head from across the room. "I'm not talking about the feathered creatures, by the way."
Remus replied with a simple, "I'll grow a pair when you stop scratching yours," and Sirius cringed, inconspicuously moving his hand away from his crotch. "Seriously, I want you to discontinue whatever irrelevant, inane conversation you're having and panic with me—is that a potted shrub?"
