“Hey, Sirius,” said James Potter, “Why has Snape got your scarf?"
“The little asshole was whinging about being cold,” Sirius shrugged, unconcerned by the chilly evening air. “I thought he might gag himself but no luck yet.”
“Huh,” said James.
“I still think it’s just a marketing ploy,” the little asshole swathed in woolen scarves said thoughtfully. “Everyone knows he doesn’t sell firewhiskey to students and his butterbeer is near rancid, but once you’ve hiked all the way up here to check out the goat it’s almost a waste of time to not buy something.”
“A giant goat is quite the statement given his, ah, past legal entanglements,” Narcissa said with the sort of obvious delicacy that teetered dangerously close to turning suggestive. “It really must be seen to be believed and the last few have hardly lasted any time at all.”
“It looks so flammable,” Lily Evans gushed, bubbling with malicious anticipation.
The best thing about the magical world, Lily maintained, was the sheer number of holiday traditions that eventually included lighting something on fire. Her mother’s nerves had never been up for a proper Bonfire Night and Cokeworth’s Catholics weren’t the type to celebrate it either.
“Hey, Sirius,” said James Potter, “Why has Snape got MY scarf?"
“Because Evans said it was cold and you gave her your scarf to be gallant and she then handed your scarf over to him” Sirius replied, without any worries over his best friend’s apparent memory issues.
“Right,” said James.
“He’s bound to have put up some anti-arson charms on this one after the fiasco with Dumbledore’s pet phoenix last year and inexplicable triple lightning strikes the year before,” Severus scoffed. “If it’s properly phoenix-proofed— and I doubt the rest of Hogsmeade would allow him to put another goat up that wasn’t properly phoenix-proofed— we’d need a miracle to burn it down without being caught.”
“We’ve got the blessings of tradition with us, Sev,” Lily replied. “Can’t you see? The goat must burn again!”
“Hey, Sirius,” said James Potter, “Why has Snape got Remus’ scarf?"
“Because I was foolish enough to take my scarf off inside and Snape picked it up and put it and just looked at me when I asked for my scarf back,” Remus interjected, slightly bitter at his ignoble defeat.
“Gosh,” said James.
“Twice is hardly sufficient grounds to claim a tradition,” Narcissa opined. “Three is a far more magically significant number.”
“So you’re saying it’s up to us to ensure the sacred fires once more hold back the darkness!” Lily said, full of pyromaniacal resolution.
“I say it’ll take planning and proper intelligence gathering, neither of which I’m inclined to do while my mouth still tastes like something died in the Hog’s Head butterbeer barrels,” Severus sighed. “Let’s stop at the Three Broomsticks, Potter will buy us all a round of the special seasonal cinnamon spiced butterbeer, and we’ll work on preparations back at school.”
“Hey,” said James Potter. “Why hasn’t Snape got—”
“Unlike you all, I know better than to leave my clothes and stuff unattended in Snape’s vicinity,” Peter interrupted, smugly snug and cozy.
“Oh,” said James.
It really was quite cold.
