Original story material is the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer.
1. Players.
"GET UP! GET UP!"
For a moment, it sounded like Aunt Petunia, and Harry thought he was back home. But why did her feet sound like a clopping horse?
"ROUSE YOUR MEN! THEY'RE BURNING DANBURY!"
What?
Oh.
Then he remembered. It was just that stupid alarm clock."Okay, okay. We're up," Harry mumbled to the enchanted picture on the window sill.
But the girl on horseback was not to be deterred. "THE BRITISH ARE LOOTING AND PILLAGING!"
"And SLEEPING!" groaned Dean.
"Or were," added Neville, stretching.
"MUSTER THE TROOPS AT LUDINGTON'S MILL!"
Seamus, without hardly moving an eyelid, said, "Oh, take a flying leap!"
"And the horse you rode in on," came a muffled voice from under Ron's blanket.
She started to shout at them again -- but, a chorus of "SHUDDUP!" finally convinced her that she had ridden into enemy territory. "Humph!" she concluded. "I'm only doing my duty."
Harry smirked. "Thanks, but I reckon I'll return you to Hermione and try a different one. One that doesn't shout."
"Oh, there's a good idea," said Ron, finally emerging. "Yesterday it was a hen going on her name was Ginger. Gives us ginger types a bad name. Today it's some Yank galloping through the dorm. Oh, let's ask for an opera singer next, Harry, why not? The screechier the better. Or maybe a lady munitions expert, giving demonstrations."
"Sorry," said Harry. "I didn't know this one would wake the whole dorm."
Hermione's mum had sent her an imported set of small charmed pictures ("Leading Ladies: 15 Tick & Tickle Picture Alarms for Sleepy Young Witches, made in USA by Brewster North & Co., vendors to the magical world"). Hermione thought using one might help Ron and Harry get up on time, before McGonagall had to lecture them again. So far, this was the second failure in that social experiment.
"Maybe she has a nice quiet one for you, Harry," said Ron.
"A quiet alarm??"
"So it won't wake the whole dorm. We'll put it on your bedside table."
"And what would this quiet alarm sound like?" asked Harry.
"Every morning, a picture of Hermione Granger will whisper to you, 'Harry, sweetie, wake up, honey dearest!' "
That started a brief pillow fight. Well, at least they were up.
Hermione was surprised to see all five boys arrive with the other Second Years at breakfast. "Well, I see Sybil Ludington roused the troops!"
"No wonder they lost the war," joked Ron.
He sat and started eating immediately. It was amazing to watch his ability to sit down and load his plate in one swooping motion. "So, Hermione, who's our muggular banshee tomorrow morning? A hog caller? Yodeler? A Polish accordian player, maybe?"
"Oh, did poor Ronnie have a rough time with my alarm today?" asked Hermione.
"Just be glad I don't hit girls."
"And what does being a girl have to do with anything?"
"I'm nifb n' lov'bub..." -- the flow of world history paused while Ron swallowed his mouthful of egg -- "..nice and loveable to girls. I'll just slap Harry instead, if you dare give him one of those alarms again."
"You'd slap your best friend, would you?"
"Sure! Someone has to. Keeps the famous Baby Wizard humble. I'm so lucky to have been assigned this job! By the way, Hermione, I was telling Harry my idea for this quieter alarm, a picture of.... ow !" Ron looked over at a grinning Harry, who had just kicked him, and quickly changed his line. "Never mind. Who'd want a quiet alarm, anyway?"
Hermione caught the interaction, and turned. "A picture of who, Harry?"
Harry mentally stumbled, then recovered. "Whoo, exactly. A picture of an owl, hooting us awake. But owl calls make me drowsy."
"What you need," said Hermione. "is a picture of McGonagall howling at you two for being late again."
"That would do it. As it is, Dean doesn't favour breakfast much, but he has a windup clock, and he's always up in time for class. We'll just have to wake each other until we get back on schedule."
"It's your own fault, you know, staying up late with wizard chess. How did this tournament get started, anyway?"
"Simple," answered Ron. "Harry would like to actually win a game. So we might play until he wins one, which could take forever, or until I feel sorry for him and let him win."
Harry smiled, said "You wish!" and kept eating.
Ron reached for seconds. "I'm just telling the ugly truth, Harry."
Harry's fork made a quick jab at Ron's plate, and came back with a slice of fruit. "Check!"
Ron grabbed a fork for the challenge, bided his time, then made a carefully-timed poke at Harry's plate, scoring some sausage without getting stabbed. "Mate!"
"Ba-bum!" drummed Harry.
"Thank you!" said Ron, concluding one of their well-practised gag routines.
Hermione laughed with them. "You two get along like brothers."
Ron grimaced. "What a horrible thought."
The badgering continued as they walked off into the distance, toward Transfig class.
"You're 'nice and loveable to girls', did you say?" asked Harry.
"Of course!" said Ron, matter-of-factly. "They all adore me for my great good looks. On the other hand, with this Quidditch thing, you have a jock image."
"That's good, isn't it?"
"Naw. When they think of you, Harry, they think of sweaty socks."
"Go on. When they think of me, they think of Luke Skywalker."
A pause. "Who?"
"Never mind. It's... a muggle thing."
"Oh."