Best in Show

Best in Show

"Hey! Take a look at this!"

A crumpled poster, torn at the top corners, was whacked down on the table and unrolled on the table. It read:

EAST HIGHLANDS AGRICULTURAL FAIR

Sunday 12^th of April. 11am to 5pm.

Wallace Field

*Sheepdog displays * Fete *

*Refreshments * Farmer's Market.

Agricultural Show

Prizes for Best Horse, Best Sheep, Best Pig, Best Rare Breed

PET SHOW

First prize of FIFTY POUNDS

Second prize 25 pounds, third prize 10 pounds.

To be judged by the Hon. Roger Bettany-Clarke.

FREE ADMISSION

Remus, James and Peter read to the end of the poster, then stared in owlish incomprehension at the fourth Marauder, Sirius Black, who stood before them with an enormous proud grin plastered all over his face.

"Sirius," James said, "what is 'this'?"

"Saw it when I was going down to Hogsmeade - long story. It's something the local Muggles have got going on. Anyway, you see they've got a pet show? Well, I thought - why don't we enter it?"

James exchanged a look with Remus expressing his concern that generations of Black family inbreeding had finally taken their toll. "A pet show."

"Yep!"

"A pet show. Sirius," James began patiently, "I know you're not exactly an expert on Muggle stuff, but this is a Muggle pet show. No weird breeds of Kneazle, no man-eating plants and no baby Runespoors. A Muggle pet show is full of boring old dogs, cats, budgies and old ladies, with the vicar and some stuffy old fart in a suit doing the judging and patronising everyone in sight. Why in the name of Merlin do we want to enter one of those?"

Sirius grinned in a maddeningly knowing way. "Read the poster, Prongsy. There's a fifty pound prize for the winner - Remus, you're the Muggle Studies bloke, what's that in Galleons?"

"Forty, or near enough," Remus said. There was a sudden and deeply thoughtful silence. "That's ten Galleons apiece," he added.

"And I don't know about you, but I'm skint. Think what we could do with ten Galleons," Sirius said. "Nice lunch out for you and Lily, Prongs; that book you've had your eye on, Moony; and how much is Honeydukes' biggest bar of chocolate, Wormtail?"

"He's got a point," Peter ventured. Remus roused himself from bibliophilic dreams and shrugged.

"It's a nice idea, Pads, but there's one problem. We have no pets. Muggles don't count owls or toads."

"We could get some," Sirius replied.

"What, nip down to Hogsmeade and get a couple of goldfish?" James asked. Sirius shook his head.

"Watch, and be amazed," he said. There was a soft 'pop' and Sirius vanished. In his place was a huge black dog, who immediately trotted over Remus, sat neatly by his feet and offered a paw to shake hands. Remus laughed.

"Pads, that's brilliant! Of course, we could enter you!"

Another 'pop' and Sirius reappeared at Remus' feet. "I know; I'm a genius. I'm always telling you. It gets better, too. If Muggles have pet rats - "

"They do," Remus cut in. "It's not very common, but they do."
"- then we can enter Wormtail too. Two shots at winning. So - what do you say?"

"Sounds good to me," James said.

"Me too," Remus agreed.

"Wormtail?"

Peter nodded. "Okay, but - "

"What?" the other three said.

"You're not gonna make me wear a bow, are you? Promise?"

Once agreed, the Marauders got to work on the fine detail of their plan. James found an empty classroom where Peter and Sirius could practise behaving like model pets. By unspoken agreement, James was acting as Peter's 'owner', while Remus got custody of Sirius, although the sight of the slim, shy-looking boy with the massive boisterous dog made James hoot with laughter. It didn't take long to work out a routine: by the weekend of the show Peter had come up with an endearing ear-comb-nose-twitch-nibble-sunflower-seed-from-James'-fingers act. Sirius, not to be outdone, was a poster-pup for Man's Noble Companion, rolling over to have his belly tickled if he met a suitably impressed audience. That Saturday's trip to Hogsmeade provided the finishing touches: a small carry-cage for Peter and a collar and leash for Sirius. At first, Sirius was wary of putting anything tight and leather around his neck, but once Remus reassured him that he'd put a Stretching Charm on it so Sirius couldn't be strangled, he agreed. Sirius insisted on choosing the collar; Remus spent a thoroughly nerve-shredding half-hour persuading him away from something in black leather with steel spikes.

On Sunday morning, the morning of the fair, three of the Marauders were hounded out of bed by a ballistic Sirius, and after a good deal of swearing and pillow-throwing they dragged on Muggle clothes and sloped off with their bags full of preparations and James' Invisibility Cloak to a spare classroom.

"Cage, cloak, leash, collar, something to eat - put that chocolate back, Wormtail- yeah, I think we've got everything." James frowned, one hand rumpling his uncontrollable hair. "Are we all going to fit under the Cloak?"

"We do normally," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah, but normally we haven't got Moony with us."

"Why don't you transform, Wormtail? James can carry you in the cage and that makes three of us," Remus suggested.

"Hey, that works." James brightened. "Good plan, Moony."

"Moony! Help me with this, I can't do it up properly." Sirius was struggling with the collar. Remus went over to take a look.

"Why are you putting it on now, Pads?"

"Less to carry."

"Lazy hound. Get your fingers out of the way - no - look, sit down on the desk and let me see. Right." Remus threaded the strap carefully through the buckle.

"Not too tight, please. I don't want to choke when I transform."

"You won't. There."

Sirius slid off the desk and examined his reflection in the glass front of a cabinet. He whistled appreciatively. "Damn, I look good." He turned his head, inspecting the effect from all angles. "Y'know, I think I'll keep this. It suits me."

Remus groaned. "You vain creature. I knew I should've stuck to a plain choke chain."

Sirius shot him a saucy look. "Ah, you're just jealous. Be nice, Moony, and I'll get you one with your name on it."

"I'll pass, thank you," Remus said dryly.

"Look, it's just a box, will you go in, dammit!" James muttered. Remus turned to see him trying to squash Peter-the-rat into his cage. Peter was having none of it, and kept squirming out of James' grip. "He won't go in the cage. He bough the damn thing with me and he still won't go in it." James looked up, flushed with exasperation. Remus drifted over.

"Come on, Peter," he wheedled, trying to herd Peter into his cage. "Nice cage, not for long, be out soon - damn!" Peter had jack-knifed at the last moment and escaped over Remus' hand. Sirius sniggered gleefully.

"Told you," James said.

"Hmm." Remus picked up the bar of chocolate and unwrapped one end.

"Hey! That's for all of us, Moony."

"I've got an idea." Remus broke off a square and wafted it invitingly in front of Peter's nose. In a flash he had Peter's full attention: his tiny black eyes followed the chocolate and his whiskers twitched.

"Like this, Wormtail? Come on, good rat, follow the chocolate..."

James watched in astonishment as Remus led the dribbling rat across the table, into the cage and flipped the door shut on him before Peter realised he'd been duped. A volley of irritated squeaks came from inside the cage, until Peter resigned himself to captivity and took solace in chocolate

"There. Nothing to it," Remus said sweetly.

The Marauders emerged from the Mirror passage half a mile outside Hogsmeade, walking straight into a brilliant sunny day.

"Mischief managed." James folded the Map away and stuffed it into his bag. "Now which way is it? Padfoot?"

Sirius pointed down the road. "That way. The field's right next to the road, so we'll see it easy."

"It's not far, is it?" James asked. "Only I feel a right berk, taking my rat for walkies."

"How come feeling a berk's bothering you now?" Remus asked cheekily.

Sirius shrugged. "Not very."

In any case, even James had to admit it was a nice day for a walk. Sirius sauntered along composing rude rhymes about Snivellus Snape, Remus wandered off the path to poke at interesting-looking plants, and Peter had dozed off in his cage. They hadn't been walking for more than twenty minutes when they saw tents and bunting ahead.

"Told you," Sirius said smugly.

"Time you transformed, then, Pads," Remus said. "James, can anyone see us?"

James checked. "No."

Sirius wandered nonchalantly over to the stone wall bordering the road and vaulted it in a single jump. Remus rolled his eyes at the 'thud' and burst of cursing: a short 'pop' later, a huge black dog, tongue hanging out and tail wagging like a mad metronome, leaped the wall and landed splay-legged in front of them.

"Good. Come here - " Remus tried to catch Padfoot, currently dancing around in exuberant circles, trying to catch his own tail. "Pads! Come here and let me put this on. Oh, stay still, you lunatic!"

Padfoot paused for long enough to allow Remus to clip the lead onto his collar, and then set off at a jaunty trot down the road trailing James, Remus and the dozy Peter in his wake.

The scrawny precise man sitting behind the table marked 'Pet Show - Enter Here' almost jumped clean out of his chair when James plonked Peter's cage on the tabletop in front of him (Peter squeaked loudly in protest at this treatment). His bulging eyes surveyed Peter with a kind of fascinated horror.

"Er...can I help you?" he said eventually.

"Yep," James said cheerfully. "Is this where we enter the pet show?"

"Um, yes, it is."

"I'd like to enter my rat." James said. "Is that allowed?"

The man grabbed a sheaf of papers and flicked through feverishly. "The competition is intended for more - erm - usual pets... cats and dogs and so on... but there doesn't appear to be anything that forbids rats being entered..."

He gave in.

"Your name, please?"

"James Potter."

"And your pet?"

"Peter."

This was duly noted. The man handed James a round badge marked '11'. "Put this on, please. Meet in the show-ring at half-past twelve."

"Ta," James said, picked up Peter's cage and ambled off, winking at Remus as he went. Remus tugged at Padfoot's lead and they walked up to the table. The man looked up with a distinctly frazzled expression.

"Yes?"

"I'd like to enter my dog for the pet show, please."

The man's face relaxed into a friendly smile. After pet rodents, this soft-spoken and polite boy was a welcome relief.

"Of course. Do you have your dog heaaaaarrrgggh!"

Remus just managed to keep from dying with laughter as the Man shot backwards in alarm when Padfoot reared up, thumped both front paws onto the table and grinned at the man from a foot away. Remus was probably the fastest - processed entrant in the history of pet shows anywhere. He patted Padfoot's flank and went off to explore the fete.

When Remus and James arrived at twelve-fifteen with their respective charges, the main ring turned out to be no such thing - just a grassy square roped off in the middle of the fete's tables and tents. The sheepdog display was underway a little way off, black and white dogs zipping back and forth around a few bewildered sheep. Padfoot, who'd been chomping the last of a bacon sandwich Remus had bought for him, perked his ears up and looked interested.

"Don't you dare," Remus said, guessing what Padfoot was thinking. The sheep would likely die of shock if Padfoot went anywhere near them. Pads hunched his shoulders and snorted in a doggy sulk, but Remus ignored him. James elbowed him and nodded at the other contestants gathering in the ring.

"They the competition?" James whispered.

" Must be."

James snorted with laughter. "Mate, we are gonna walk it."

On further inspection, Remus had to agree. There were no more than fifteen entrants, with a variety of ordinary pets: a gaggle of small fluffy white dogs milling around a formidable woman in a peach summer suit and carrying a white sunhat; a depressed-looking beagle; a colourful and noisy trio of budgies trying to bite their way out of their cage and squawk both at the same time; a few more dogs Remus couldn't identify, and a few cats, most notably an enormous and deeply disdainful Siamese. Peter scrabbled around nervously in his cage: the scent of the cat was making him nervous.

"So what now?' James asked, oblivious of Peter's alarm.

"Find our places and wait for the judge, I suppose," Remus said.

They wandered along the line of numbered places, catching filthy glares from the sneering Siamese and her owner, particularly when Padfoot scowled at the cat and uttered a low, terrifying growl.

"Will you behave?" Remus hissed, yanking the dog away.

He finally found their spot near the far end of the line, next to James on one side and the lady with the flock of yapping furballs on the other. She gave Remus a big patronising smile, which became rather fixed as Padfoot dumped his massive frame down beside Remus' feet, sighing heavily. James was passing the time by getting Peter out of his cage and letting him clamber up and down his arm.

They waited. And waited, and waited.

By ten to one, Padfoot was beating out the seconds with his tail, chin sunk onto his paws, a look of utter crying boredom firmly in place. Remus was getting thirsty, hot and irritable, and the sun in his eyes was giving him a headache. Peter had dozed off on James' shoulder. James caught Remus' eye and raised his eyebrows. Stick it out or go? his face asked. Remus shrugged and raised five fingers. Give it five more minutes. James nodded, and then jumped hard enough to wake Peter when he turned back to find that the judge had arrived.

"Hello. And who have we got here?" The Hon. Bettany - Clarke inspected James over a moustache like a shoe-brush; his eyes fell on Peter and he blinked. "Good Lord. Is that a rat?"

"Yeah. He's called Peter, sir," said James, beaming pleasantly as he retrieved Peter and patted him. Peter twitched his nose with interest, apparently wondering if the moustache was a new friend.

"Is he really? Well, well." Bettany-Clarke seemed stunned. "Had a teacher called Peter once, you know." James attempted to look interested, but didn't quite make it. "Jolly good. Well, cheerio, then." Bettany-Clarke spoke a few words to the nervous man they'd seen earlier, who scribbled something on a clipboard. Remus patted Padfoot's side (he'd taken the lead off earlier as it kept twisting around Padfoot's leg) and Padfoot sat up obediently. Right on cue, he offered Bettany-Clarke a huge paw. The old codger beamed expansively and took the paw in a ruddy, plump hand.

"How do you do, old feller?" He shook Padfoot's paw and scratched behind his ears. "Good natured thing, isn't he? What's his name?"

"Padfoot, sir."

"Padfoot, eh? Lovely animal. I suppose he's a black Lab, yes? Don't often see one so big."

"We're not sure. We thought he might be part wolfhound as well," Remus put in. Bettany-Clarke nodded sagely.

"Yes, that'd explain it. How old is he?"

"Sixtee- um, six in June," Remus invented hurriedly. Padfoot covered for him, choosing that moment to roll over and beg for a belly-rub. Bettany-Clarke duly obliged, wheezing a little as he straightened up.

"Well, that's very good. Grand dog you've got there, lad."

"Thank you, sir."

Bettany-Clarke moved on and Padfoot scrambled onto his feet. The judging was nearly over, and the contestants were moving away, probably to find a cold drink and some shade before the results were announced. James nudged Remus. "How'd it go?" he whispered. Remus smiled, and gave James the thumbs up. James grinned from ear to ear.

Unfortunately, that was when it all went horribly wrong.