An Early Morning and Itching Powder: Harry

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A/n: sorry for not updating in so long!
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I've lived with uncle Moony and uncle Padfoot for two years, now. My eleventh birthday is coming soon, and I am very excited! I can tell they are up to something, though. Padfoot and Moony keep whispering to each other when they think I'm in bed. I've taken a liking to moonlit walks on the roof, and sometimes I hear them as I tiptoe through the foyer.

It is morning now, about five o'clock. Padfoot is still sleeping, probably for several more hours. Moony is preparing breakfast in the kitchen, the familiar sound of pots and pans and running water reaches my ears. I walk to the window seat in the wall, patting the lion moving on my wall as I sit down. The morning sun is rising in a pearly pink sky, the birds just beginning to chirp. This time of day is beautiful, serene.

I shove my glasses up my nose, and dress in my typical jeans and tee.
"'Morning, moony!" He turns from the streaming griddle and returns the greeting.
"Morning, Harry. Sleep well?"
"Yep! No nightmares this time! Want me to set the table?" I say, and grab a few forks.

"Grab a few extra. Molly and Arthur are coming with their children."
"Who are they?" The name is foreign to me. Do they have a boy my age? Moony just smiles, honey colored eyes sparking.

"You'll just have to wait and see."

"Why are they coming so early in the morning?" I ask. Usually visitors come for lunch or dinner.

"They live quite far away." And moony doesn't say anything more.

I have finished setting the table and a knock on the door and the sound of cloaks swishing and many feet stamping sounds through the door. Moony rushes to the door, telling me to wake uncle Padfoot quickly. 

I run upstairs with a bucket of cold water. This is the only way moony and I have found that wakes him up immediately. I mercilessly dump it on his head, and he wakes, coughing and spluttering. I immediately hand him a towel. "The Weasleys have arrived. Get up!" Padfoot groans.

"Ugh, I have to deal with Molly at--what time is it?" Sirius rubs his eyes.

"Approximately six o'clock." Sirius moans and flops back into bed. I sigh in exasperation, beginning to get truly annoyed. Then the door opened and two red headed freckled boys came in. They were identical. "H-hi," I said.

"Hello," the boys said. "We're Fred and George. Having some trouble getting him up?" Sirius was sound asleep again.

"Yes, I am," I said, matching Fred and George's evil grins with one of my own.

"A little itching powder here, a little there, careful not to touch that, Harry," George said, sprinkling a green powder on Sirius's bare back. Then we stepped back and watched.

"AAAAAAAH! What is this stuff, nasty little buggers--" Sirius writhed on the bed, tossing and turning, then getting up and running from the room.

" 'Mischief managed,' "Fred and George said.

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