From the Files of Sirius Black

From the Files of Sirius Black:

Dreamer

Disclaimer: Some plot elements and characters belong to JK Rowling. The song “American Pie” was written and sung by Don McLean. Anything you don’t recognize, however, belongs to me.

A/N: Just decided to throw this one out there. I wrote it in my spare time. Review with your thoughts (good and bad). I don’t care what you have to say, I’d just like to hear your opinion. I had this lying around so I decided to put it up here. I have some more kind of like it, if you’d like to see them, just say so.

It’s funny how somebody can appear one way to the untrained eye, but, once you got to know them, turn out so damn differently. That’s how James was back in school. Most people saw James as the Gryffindor star chaser and team captain, a master prankster, brilliant at anything he attempted, and, well, a bit big-headed at times. But to us, James was a dreamer. He was a poet, a musician, an artist and any other word you might use to describe a complete loser. However, he was my best mate, that’s why I didn’t tell anybody about his secret hobbies—it was, of course, for my own reputation as much as his.

When he assumed the dorm was empty and he was in an incredibly mopey mood, he’d sit on his four-poster and start singing muggle pop songs from the United States. I admit, he was good, but honestly, singing? Musician and jock didn’t mix in any universe as far as I was concerned. So, I concealed this interest of his from the public eye, as he no doubt wanted, thinking it was just a phrase that would soon be over. Little did I know that this was his true personality, bursting to emerge.

I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away,

I went down to the sacred store

Where I'd heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn't play

He was, of course, talking (or singing I wager would be more appropriate) about his love interest, Miss Evans. He’d been obsessed with Lily Evans since, well, pretty much since he entered this bloody place. After having tremendous luck with girls in his first few years at Hogwarts (which I must say, I had quite a lot to do with), he finally worked up the nerve to ask Lily out in our fourth year. She refused him point blank.

Being as competitive as he is, he continued to invite her to various events (i.e. dinner, movies, his dorm room, the coffee shop, Hogsmede, his dorm room, the enchanted forest, long strolls on the grounds, his dorm room…you get the idea) throughout our fourth and fifth years. Lily kept on refusing him (especially when he suggested his dorm room, though I can’t think of why.) When he asked her what kind of guys she liked she always responded that her perfect guy would by smart, sensitive, caring, artsy, and possibly every word you could use to describe the real James.

Well, I must say, James was a bit of idiot. Well, he achieved good marks in class, but when it came to common sense, let’s just say he was lacking in that department. I mean seriously, what would it take to make him realize that all he had to be was to be his true self? I, of course, did not remind him of this—I didn’t want to lose my best mate. Most people would try to justify withholding something like this from their best mate to themselves by at least saying that they were doing it for their mate. I didn’t bother—I knew that it for myself, and my selfish self only. When it finally became clear that James wasn’t going to land Lily by his own methods, somebody had to state the obvious to him.

So bye, bye, Miss American Pie,

Drove my Chevy to the levee

But the levee was dry.

And good ol’ boys

Were drinking whiskey and rye

Singing this’ll be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die.

(This one I actually sang—from the same song James sang before. I found the lyrics under his bed!) I finally told him to give up on Lily at the end of our fifth year. And to think the bastard actually listened to me! After that, things finally returned to normal. Well, he was depressed for a few hours, but after a quick shag with a village girl and a bottle of firewhiskey, he was ready to be his old self again. Damn, that makes him look like a bit of an arse, doesn’t it? Oh well, I’m an author now, it’s my soul duty to report the truth. Well, as much as I feel like letting the outside world know, anyways.

You’re probably wondering why I, of all people are writing this. My teachers (or at least the ones who appreciated my hidden talents) would say I’m finally putting my humor to work and making something out of myself. Those who looked up to me (and hero-worshiped me in some cases) would say it was to pay off the remorse I felt from discouraging my mate from being his true self. The romantics would say that it is to tell the story of Lily and James’s love. However, it’s those who thought nothing but ill thoughts of me who would probably get it right. I’m writing this novel (for lack of a better word) because I’ve hit a rough patch in my life and need some sort of cash flow to support my extravagant lifestyle.

***

It’s a damn shame, but the first time Lily and James really got to talking was the day we graduated. I however was too busy to notice. I mean, c’mon, it was GRADUATION! After seven long years of all-nighters, a shit-load of exams, hand cramps from writing the millions of goddamn essays, and too many detentions to count, we were finally out of that hell hole. I was off to my late Uncle Archie’s house to set up for my end of term extravaganza that James and I threw at the end of every year. Only this year, it was going to be bigger than ever—we were, after all, out of school.

Everyone who was anyone showed up (which mean anyone who wasn’t in Slytherin.) We had the hottest girls from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, England (in general) and all of England’s neighboring countries there. It was where all of us were first laid. (Except for Peter, who we determined would remain a virgin for all eternity.) Little did I know that my mate would blow off the party of the year, nay, the party of our school careers for some chick.

“Damn, I can’t believe it’s over,” James said to no one in particular, shaking his head and pushing the oversized oak front doors of Hogwarts open for seemingly the last time.

“Me neither,” replied the voice he knew all to well, her footsteps hurrying to catchy up with him. James turned an looked around, could it be possible that Lily Evans had actually initiated a conversation with him? I wouldn’t of believed it! But as James looked around, he realized that they were the only people in the otherwise deserted Entrance Hall. “It’s seemed like this day would never come, but now that it has, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

A tear ran down Lily’s cheek as she spoke. If it had been any other girl, James would’ve put his arm around her, probably with the intent of shagging her in the near future. But, alas, this was Lily Evans, and we all know that James was a bit uncomfortable around her (probably because she was the only female in all of Great Britain that wouldn’t sleep with him.) Instead, James awkwardly stuck his hands in the pockets of his robes (for lack of better use of them) and walked on with her in silence.

Tears continued to run down Lily’s face for a few moments longer before she wiped them away with the arm of her robe and turned to him again. “Sorry,” she replied sheepishly, “I just get a bit sad about these types of things.”

“Me too,” James replied honestly.

“I don’t see you sobbing like a fool and making a complete spectacle out of yourself,” Lily said with a smile.

James almost replied that it was because he wasn’t a girl, but stopped himself right in time. A sexist comment like that would surely end his conversation with Lily on a poor note. I’m not saying that a comment like that would be sexist, because I personally don’t believe it would—it’s a proven fact that women cry more easily than men, check the statistics people. However, this is about what Lily thinks, not what I think—it’s depressing when your best mate’s love interest has more control of him than you do. So James’ replied, “I just show my emotion in other ways, that’s all.”

You may wonder how I know the thoughts of my mate. Well, I don’t know for sure. But I would hope that after seven long years of being best mates, I can attest that I know him limb from limb. Now I cannot account for everything said in this conversation (or in any conversation in this novel for that matter) since I was not there for a good amount of them (and I have a rotten memory when it comes to the minor details, so anything I was there for might have been tweaked a bit too). But, you’ll get the jest of it, I’m sure. Anyways, back to the conversation.

“Like how?” Lily asked playfully.

James turned away from her, not wanting to answer this question.

After a few minutes of silence Lily repeated herself, “How do you show your emotion, Potter?”

“I can’t tell you,” James mumbled.

“What was that?” Lily questioned, good-naturedly tugging at his arm, which was still stuffed inside his dress robe pocket.

“I can’t tell you,” James repeated himself, now a bit louder.

“C’mon, you can’t just say something like that and not explain yourself,” Lily replied, tugging still harder on his arm. “I wanna know how the James Potter expresses his feelings and emotions.”

“Are you teasing me?” James asked, a smile now beginning to play around his lips.

“Maybe a little,” Lily said, smiling up at him. James smiled in return. Lily loved it how, when he smiled, his whole face became part of it. “So, will you tell me?”

“Alright, but on one condition,” James offered.

“Name the terms,” Lily replied cheerfully.

“How about that sunset walk I used to ask you about?” James said reaching out his hand.

“Sounds perfect,” Lily agreed, grabbing hold of it. As they walked off towards the lake and the setting sun, James realized that they had had their first real conversation. Ironic, though, that it should happen right as they were leaving school forever.

So, basically, this is was he missed my party for—a sunset walk and a talk about emotions, could it get any gayer? Seriously man. And my party was off the hook. True, I don’t remember to bulk of it, but I woke up with two blondes in my bed and a monster of a hangover, so I’m sure I had a brilliant time…

Until the next,

Sirius Black

From the Files of Sirius Black: Catcher in the Rye

Alicia78

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or plot elements taken from Harry Potter or any thematic elements taken from Catcher in the Rye.

I think that everybody in this world can relate, in some way or another to Holden Caufield, myself perhaps more than others. Holden is frustrated with the world, feels trapped and has encountered tragedy in his past. Although we may not have suffer these things to the extent of Holden, we have more than likely come face to face with them at some point in our lives. It is our reaction, however, when we are into a tough situation that is the true deciding factor of whether or not we choose the path of Holden Caufield. The easiest path is to run away from our problems. That’s what Holden did. That’s what I did.

I ran away from home when I was sixteen when things became unbearable, just like Holden ran away from boarding school. I just couldn’t take it anymore, I had been dealing with my parent’s bullshit my entire life and I was fed up. Legally, I had to live under their dominion for another year, but they didn’t care. Nay, instead of sending out search parties to try and find me, they blasted my name of the family tree and disowned me. I crashed with the Potters and everything was seemingly fine. Mr. and Mrs. Potter didn’t ask too many questions—they were pretty cool.

Still, there was a gap in my childhood that would be missing forever. Before I went to Hogwarts, my life was a living hell. I spent most of my time hiding up in my room, unsociably avoiding my parents, my brother and their rich, pureblooded friends. At school, while other rejoiced at the thought of summer vacation, I dreaded it, knowing I would have to spend an entire summer in the house I detested so much. My entire life seemed to be leading up to the moment I turned seventeen and would be leaving forever. Growing up, I often imagined a picturesque vision of me walking into a sunset, trunk in hand, glancing back one last at the house I would never see again.

Things didn’t turn out exactly as I had planned. You see, in leaving a year ahead of schedule, I was forced to sneak out in the middle of the night. The sun was already set, my trunk was at James’s place and as I left I didn’t dare turn back, for fear of seeing my mum staring at me through the window. I managed to avoid all contact with my family until two years ago, when my dad died and I received an unexpected call from my brother Regelus.

The sight of him standing at my front door way was awkward, to say the least. He had grown considerably since I’d last seen him during my seventh year. He was now in his final days at Hogwarts, if my calculations were correct.

“Hello, Sirius. You can have no doubts as to why I am here,” he said to me solemnly. Damn, he had acquired the formal tone the rest of my god forsaken family carried, which I utterly detested. And he was quite mistaken, I had no idea as to why he had paid me this unexpected visit, which I relayed to him.

“Then you haven’t heard the news?” he asked, sounding truly surprised.

“What news? Has our dear old Great Aunt Matilda finally kicked the bucket? Stupid old bat,” I asked, laughing airily.

He did not laugh alongside me, however, but said, in the same formal tone, “No, it’s our father.”

“What about him?”

“He passed away a week ago.”

“Oh,” I replied, for lack of anything better to say. The truth was, I didn’t know what to feel about this. I had never been particularly close with my father, but my feelings toward him had never been as vile as toward my mum or my grandparents.

“The funeral’s on Saturday,” Regelus informed me, clearing his through and interrupting my thoughts.

“Alright,” I said, still deep in thought.

“Also, I was wondering if you might come home for a few days and help with Mum. She’s a bit of a wreck right now, I don’t know what to do with her really,” he asked, sounding hopeful.

“There’s no fucking way I’m going back to that dark house. And it’s not ‘home’ to me anymore. In fact, it’s never been home to me,” I said, becoming angry. Although why this sudden urge came to me, I did not know.

“Your mate Dumbledore’s made you hate us, hasn’t he?”

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong. My opinion of you was formed long before I even met Dumbledore. I have despised you to the utmost extent my entire life. Besides, Dumbledore’s not my mate”

“I saw your name in the Profit, standing up against all the changes that need to be made. You should be thankful I didn’t show mum, else she would’ve had a heart attack.”

“I wish she had. Besides, what does she care what becomes of me? I’m disowned, remember. Furthermore, you talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

“I’m not quite as ignorant as you think me to be, Sirius.”

“Who are you getting your sources from then, mum or dad?” I asked, snorting. “What’s the real reason you came here, Regelus? Because there was no way in hell you could’ve thought I would help out with Dad’s wake.”

“I came here to bade you fair warning, Sirius. Because even though you been an arse for the past five years, we’re still family. Your alliance with Dumbledore could get you into serious trouble.”

I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from retorting that he was the one who was in deep shit. For I knew right then and there that he was, or soon would be, a Death Eater—and, honorable as his intentions in warning me might be, Voldemort was the best known mind-reader. Anything I told Regelus, Voldemort could uncover, and it could be very dangerous to us if Voldemort discovered exactly how much we knew of his plans. So I resolved not to say anything in reply to Regelus. He left ten minutes later, apologizing for taking up my time. That was the last time I ever saw him.

I’m no longer sure whether or not I made the right decision, for I have just received news of Regelus’ death. He had been killed by Voldemort, or perhaps another Death Eater, for treason. I wonder, if I had informed Regelus of the true nature of Voldemort, could he have escaped his wrath before it was too late? Was he simply uninformed of what Voldemort was capable of and what his plans were for the future? I find myself relating to Holden Caufield yet again—for I too, blame myself for my brothers death.

Wow it feels wonderful to have gotten that off my chest. Writing shit down, really makes you feel better when you’re having a fucked up day, you know? Maybe Holden Caufield should’ve tried that. It works, I’m telling you people. Well, on a lighter note, I can safely promise you that my next essay will be seriously more uplifting and fun.

Well…

Until the next,

Sirius Black

A/N: I realize that it was displaying a different facet of Sirius’ character, but do you think I was able to convey the same tone as in the first essay?

From the Files of Sirius Black: The Reflecting Pool

By Alicia78

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or plot elements taken from Harry Potter.

When applying for a job or filling out any type of CV, I am often asked who influenced me most in my life. I am then faced with a conundrum. To be honest or to sod it and make up some shit? Honestly, I usually opt for the latter—it tends to raise less questions about by integrity as a person. Not that integrity is necessarily a quality I possess, but the world today is all about bullshitting your way to a position of power, isn’t it?

You see, while most people seek influence from their parents, their relatives, or some political figure—but I never did. If I had been influenced by any relative of mine I would most likely have grown up to be some Slytherin arsehole. As for being influenced by some political figure, I believe that’s complete bollocks. In my experience, most political figures turn out to be scandalous cheats and liars.

No, my influence wasn’t widely known around England. However, he was a legend throughout the halls of Hogwarts. In the broader scheme of things, I’m not quite sure his influence on me would be looked upon by an objective, third-party outsider having nothing to do with the situation as particularly beneficial to my growth. You see, my idol was the campus bookie, Marcus Fletcher.

Now, Fletcher, or “Fletch” as he was widely known, wasn’t your average bookie. Not only did he take bets on the major Quidditch matches both inside and outside of Hogwarts, but he also took bets on how long major couples would stay together, how long Filch’s list of banned items would be at the start of term, how many times Trelawney would predict a student’s death throughout the year, who the new members of the “Slug Club” would be and so on and so forth.

When I entered Hogwarts in my first year, Fletch was in his fifth year and I immediately idolized him. He, in fact, was the reason I yearned to be in Gryffindor, not Slytherin all my relatives had been. You see, James and I shared a compartment with him on our first trip to Hogwarts in our first year.

Before Fletch arrived, James and I were both sitting at either ends of our shared compartment starring off in separate directions. James knew who I was and I knew who James was—more importantly, both of us knew that our parents would rather us not converse. That was when Fletch came.

“Hey there!” he said cheerfully, swinging our compartment door open, “You lot must be new then?”

“Was it that obvious?” I asked gloomily. I was kind of hoping just to blend into the crowd here, as I had throughout my entire life at that point.

“Nah…I just know everyone here. I can spot a new face from a mile away,” he explained. “But don’t worry, if you don’t want anyone to know, your secret’s safe with me.”

I didn’t respond. After another couple seconds of sitting in silence Fletch spoke up again.

“Man the awkward silence is driving me bonkers. I’m sensing some hostility here, do you chaps know each other then?”

“No!” both James and I said at the same time.

“Errr…alright then. I’m Marcus by the way. Marcus Fletcher—but everyone calls me ‘Fletch.’ Don’t know why really, just something that caught on in my third year.”

“My cousin Gideon told me about you!” James exclaimed. “Said the only reason he ever bothered going back for the start of term was because you always had something good up your sleeve at the start of term.”

“Blimey! You’re Gideon and Fabian Prewitt’s cousin?” Fletch asked.

James nodded eagerly.

“Those two have got enormous potential, they have.”

“Fabian told me Molly fancied you,” James said.

“Molly Prewett? Fancy me? That’s complete cobblers!” he said, laughing.

“Why?” I asked, finally speaking up.

“She’s a prefect, isn’t she?” he explained, “Sorry for you’re cousin, mate, but I’d never be caught dead dating a prefect. And, quite honestly, I doubt she’d ever be seen dating me. So what are your names then?”

“I’m James Potter,” James said proudly.

“I’m Sirius,” I replied plainly.

“Errr...do you have a surname, Sirius?” Fletch asked.

James stared at me intently, and for the first time in my life, I was ashamed of my family. In my previous experience the name “Black” had always come equipped with dignity and respect. However, I doubted that it would amongst this lot.

“Black,” I muttered quietly.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Fletch said, “Black, did you say it was?”

I nodded slowly.

“You’re not by chance related to Bellatrix or Narcissa Black, eh?”

Judging by the look of disgust on his face, I wagered he didn’t like my relations much. Come to think of it, I didn’t really either. Every time I came in contact with my cousins, they always treated me with an air of superiority, which I hated. They were also always stuffy and they usually stared down their long noses at people.

I decided the best way to reply was “Unfortunately.”

“I take it you’re not all that impressed with your family then?” he asked.

“Not nearly as impressed as they are with themselves,” I replied, not really knowing what I was saying. However, I immediately knew them to be true.

“Yeah, I picked that up I bit,” I agreed. “Is the rest of your family like that too?”

I considered for a moment before replying, “Every last one of them.”

“I’m sorry mate,” he replied. “That’s gotta be tough.”

“S’alright, I’m used to it by now,” I said shrugging. “So, what house are you in.”

“I’m in Gryffindor, which is, by far, the best,” he replied conclusively. “What house do you lot want to be in?”

“Gryffindor,” James replied defiantly.

“What about you, Sirius?” Fletch asked, turning to me once again.

“Well, mum will disown me if I’m not in Slytherin.”

“Damn, that’s tough, lad. But sooner or later you have to choose between pleasing your family and being yourself,” he replied earnestly.

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“If you spend your entire life trying to be who others want you to be, you’ll go bonkers. In my own experience, if you’re true to yourself, you’ll be much happier, believe me,” he explained. “You don’t think people have challenged me once or twice? I mean, damn, I’m the campus bookie and pull more pranks in a year than were pulled in the school’s entire history before I came here for Christ’s sakes. Teachers have threatened to expel me, some people hate me, and I’ve embarrassed my parents so many times, I’ve lost track. But, I’m perfectly happy with the person I am, and that’s good enough for me.”

“But you’re the most popular guy in school, of course you’re happy!” James exclaimed.

Fletch shrugged, “In my experience, if you’re honest about who you are, others tend to like you more for it. But if you’ll excuse me, lads, I’ve got places to go and people to see.”

With that, he left.

.*.*.*.

As I crossed the lake with the other first years, I gazed into the lake at my reflection. James was in the back of the boat, talking animatedly to the two girls sharing the boat with us. However, to me they were inaudible. When I saw my reflection stare back at me, I saw my mother’s eyes and my father’s nose. I was no doubt a result of their upbringing, and Slytherin was probably the right place for me to be. I’d just wait and see where I was sorted.

I was startled when the boats came to a jolting halt when we reached the school, and I looked up to see a grand sight indeed. We travelled as a pack inside, occasionally trotting on the hems of one another’s robes, in through the giant oak front doors, in to the entrance hall and then into the Great Hall. We walked in-between two of the four long picnic tables, staring up at the star-covered sky-like ceiling in awe.

At the front of the room was a stage with a fifth table on it, where the teachers sat. Situated front and centre on the stage was a stool with a hat sitting on it. The rest of the room was staring intently at this hat, as if they were waiting for it to explode, so I followed suit. At long last, the hat moved, and did the last thing I ever expected it to do. It sang.

The song was about the history of the school—which I had heard about a million times before. Although, I suspected that the hat’s version of the school’s history was slightly less biased than the one my parent’s often told me. Then the hat explained that we were to try it on in order to discover which house we would be sorted into. It seemed odd to me that this piece of cloth would be deciding our future for the next seven years.

Professor McGonagall then stood up and started reading the names of the first years off the scroll she held in her hands. By the time she called my name it stood at Ravenclaw: 4, Hufflepuff: 1, Slytherin: 1, and Gryffindor: 0.

As I walked up toward the stool, it seemed almost surreal to me. Before putting the hat on my head, I turned to see Fletch smile and wink at me. I didn’t return the favour though. I was sure that when I was sorted into Slytherin, which I undoubtedly would be, he would never speak to me again.

Hmmm… A voice said to me coming from my head, I feel a need to please your family and live up to their expectations. That takes a certain amount of ambition. We better put you in SLYTH—

“WAIT!” I heard myself shout out loud.

What? The voice was back inside my head again, would you rather be in another house?

Yes. I thought hard. I want to be in Gryffindor. Please put me in Gryffindor. Gryffindor, not Slytherin.

You sure about that? The hat asked.

Yes. Positive.

Alright then, GRYFFINDOR!

The crowd erupted and my face broke out into my first true smile in years. I was so happy I could hardly stand up from elation. As I walked over to the Gryffindor table, I ignored the glares darting into the back of my head from the Slytherin table and focused, instead on the fact that Fletch was standing up cheering and making room for me to sit next to him.

“Well done mate,” he exclaimed, patting me on my back while I sat next to him. “I knew you had it in you.”

.*.*.*.

I went back to the lake looked at my reflection the next day, and saw a very different person than I had the previous night—one much different than the rest of my family. For, although my outer appearance still much resembled them, my inner looks now shown more brightly than my outer ones. The more I pondered life the less sense it seemed to make. Why were there so many politics involved in the inner-workings of my twisted family? Why was I so different than the rest of my family? Why was I forced to conform to their standards? Why were people so different, period? However, the previous day, Marcus Fletcher, who everyone described as a “bad egg”, had a lasting, positive effect on my life. I can therefore say that he was my greatest influence in life.

Until the next,

Sirius Black

A/N: I was in a good mood after the Seahawks won tonight, so I thought I’d write this. I want to know what you guys think of Fletch. Would you be interested in him appearing in later essays? I thought I’d put this in here to show what helped shape Sirius’ character. I figure, hey, growing up in that house, he couldn’t have been happy and go-lucky his entire life.