PG-13, 5500 words
James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Peter. Harry.
James/Lily, other minor pairings & some subtext.
Summary: Extracts from the schoolday memoirs of Sirius Orion Black, as written August 2nd, 1978. Found by Harry James Potter, July 5th, 1997. A James & Lily story.
Notes: Well, if this hasn't been some time in the making! With thanks to the wonderful sambethe and the delightful old_light for thorough and inspired betas - I owe much of the best of this to their insight. &hearts
Extracts from the schoolday memoirs of Sirius Orion Black,
as written August 2nd, 1978.
Found by Harry James Potter,
July 5th, 1997.
as written August 2nd, 1978.
Found by Harry James Potter,
July 5th, 1997.
Harry had been staring at the imposing black leather of the front cover of the journal for some time. He’d found the book three days ago, but today was the first day he’d have the time that it deserved. He’d woken up before the house was stirring and the sun only a faint glow in the distance. Now, with a clenched stomach and a deep breath, he opened the front cover.
If, by some alarming conspiracy of events, you have managed to circumvent the extensive hexes, jinxes and charms affixed to this journal whilst remaining relatively unscathed, I shall be charitable and offer you the following warning, in acknowledgement of such intrepid endeavour:
FURTHER READING OF THESE PAGES WITHOUT EXPRESS PRIOR CONSENT WILL RESULT IN SYMPTONS CLOSELY RESEMBLING THE GREAT WIZARDING PLAGUE OF 1592, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO LUMINOUS BOILS, COMPULSIVE ERUMPENT IMITATION AND/OR TENTACLES SPROUTING FROM YOUR NETHER REGIONS.
And believe me, I will know if you do.
No boils yet? Then read on, good and trusted friend, read on.
Harry frowned, and carefully moved around a bit in the chair. No, all clear. It seemed Sirius had not been quite paranoid enough to secure his privacy from beyond the grave. Besides, he would have let Harry read this anyway, surely?
He leafed through the journal, planning to savour every page, in time. He saw a double page spread devoted to the vices of ‘Snivellus’ Snape, which made him smile. But first, he was looking for his parents. After a detailed list of the Marauders’ pranks of Third Year, he found something.
On Heart & Hormones
The first among us to get a girlfriend was, surprisingly enough, Peter (no offence, mate, you know I love you) right at the start of Third Year. The lucky lady in question was Juniper Green, renowned throughout Gryffindor for her quite astonishing breasts, which were adored or envied by just about everyone our year and above. How Peter managed it, we never found out, but on Friday evenings he’d return with tales of how he’d tried to cop a feel or two, and we’d all listen with a mixture of horror and wonder. This torrid romance didn’t last long, ending when Juniper accosted poor old Wormtail in a corridor and hit him with about fifteen hexes, a couple of which even we hadn’t discovered at the time, which left us with a sort of grudging admiration for her ever afterwards. He remained a peculiar shade of purpley-orange for quite some time. The reasons for this sudden attack never really became clear, but whatever it was, one thing was certain. We Marauders were officially on the market – a truly joyous day for all of Hogwarts, I am sure, as even then we were quite spectacularly handsome.
Peter’s adventures in the World of Women had apparently announced to all and sundry that we were available for the dating business, which had decidedly mixed effects. James acquired his very own devoted fan club of girls (all clinically deranged of course) who tended to follow him around in gaggles. Highly irritating as you can imagine, but Prongs loved it – egotistical bastard. I’ve been told some of the gaggle, from time to time, were after me as well, to which I can only respond with the utmost sympathy, combined with the sad realisation that they were even more demented than their Potter-worshipping counterparts.
Remus had a bit of a cult too, which developed around about Fifth Year. He claims to this day that this was solely due to his association with his far more eligible friends, to which I give a hearty cry of ‘nonsense!’ and instead would like to propose that this is because Remus has always been seen as the sensitive type by those that don’t know any better, and as everyone knows girls go mad over that stuff. Peter had acquired a bit of a reputation after the entire Juniper episode, but this never appeared to stop him – he always had a girl on the go, and she always had the most fantastic tits. How he managed it is an ongoing peculiarity of the universe.
Looking back on it, the amount of feminine attention we received was ridiculous. We were like The Beatles of Hogwarts or something, which is bizarre (they’re a Muggle band, you philistines – ask Evans). Of course, at the time it seemed perfectly natural; we were, after all, the four most handsome and dashing gentlemen at school, so it was only to be expected that some girl or other was going to be half in love with one of us at any given time. Usually, we couldn’t really be bothered with it all – there were better things to do, often involving blowing stuff up. Mostly unwittingly, we left a trail of broken hearts in our wake as we constantly pursued new ways to reach that nirvana of almost-expulsion.
Nonetheless, there were some standout episodes. (Don’t panic, Moony, I’m leaving that incident with Myfanwe in Fourth Year well alone, for all our sakes.) There was one Christmas where someone managed to drop something into the communal punch in the common room – why no, I’ve no idea who that was, but they deserve a medal – and consequently everyone started to get rather amorous. If a mad suit of armour had clanged through the halls and hit me on the head with an axe at the end of that night, I would have died happy after seeing the look on Frank’s face when Remus had professed undying love to a rather confused Alice. Absolutely legendary.
And then, of course, there was Evans, that fiery-haired maiden queen of Gryffindor. Everyone had a crush on Lily at some point, or it felt like that, anyway. We felt rather above this simpering nonsense – as I said before, we mostly had better things to do. Perfectly decent girl, but none of us had the time to go running around fancying her, if you see what I mean.
Well, that was the original plan, at least. Prongs, as usual, managed to bugger it all up royally. Who knows when The Evans Problem first developed, but it first came to my attention one day in June of Fourth Year.
‘Sirius,’ James said, trying to sound terribly innocuous, bless him, ‘I think it’s high time I got myself a girlfriend.’
I seem to remember spluttering pumpkin juice everywhere at this rather sudden pronouncement.
‘Erm, right,’ I said. ‘Got anyone in mind?’
‘Yeah, reckon so,’ James answered, glancing down the table – a manoeuvre I was about to become very familiar with. ‘Lily Evans.’
We all stared at him. From the outset, it was clear this idea was completely insane. Not that we said as much – true and loyal to the end, the Marauders.
‘Hogsmeade weekend coming up – I’ll ask her then,’ James continued, terribly casually.
I suspect that Lily was more stunned than anything when Prongs accosted her after dinner the next week. Looking pretty bemused, she turned him down in front of most of the House, and so it was that James Potter suffered the first rejection of his life.
In all probability, if Lily had just said yes to him then, they would have gone out for a few months then fizzled away again. Funny how things work out. No, Lily became a challenge, and James had to get her. Everyone quickly realised that there was nothing on earth that was going to make him give up. Poor, poor Lily. She was harangued on a semi-regular basis, and all credit to her for being really rather polite about it all, at least in the beginning. As time went on, she got more and more pissed off about the whole thing (understandable, really, imagine having James propositioning you for two years straight), and so she began to come back with some fantastically withering refusals. The Giant Squid episode was a particular favourite of mine. Oh, she did put him through it a bit. Still, it undoubtedly made him a better person and all that.
Not really being privy to Lily’s inner thought processes, I’m not too sure how or why things began to change. Remus says he had an inkling towards the end of Sixth Year that she was becoming more amenable to James, which makes sense, given how things turned out.
And how did things turn out? You’ll just have to continue reading, I’m afraid.
Harry sat back for a moment, overwhelmed. He glanced up, almost expecting to hear Sirius’ voice, to see him standing there, telling him the story. But all was silent. He read on, moving past tales of the Marauders’ middle years that would be returned to, but for now… ah, yes.
On How James Got Lily
The Tale of James & Lily is a fine and noble romance, which I can’t hope to do justice to, but I’ll set down what I can remember, what I’ve been told since, a healthy dose of speculation, and yes, I confess, a few things that I only know because I followed James around when he didn’t realise. How else are you to keep tabs on your best mate who looks set to run off without you?
We begin our story at Platform 9 ¾ at the end of the summer term, Sixth Year. James and I were just being enveloped in the warm bosom of the Potter family, having said goodbye to the other half of our gang when James suddenly ran off on us.
‘Sorry, be right back – just got to say goodbye to someone.’
He raced back into the milling crowd, eyes alert, looking for something, hurtling around trunks and seriously upsetting at least one owl, until he nearly ran straight into Lily Evans and her family.
‘Phew, sorry about that!’ he said brightly. That was all the time it took for her to regain her lost composure and yank him a considerable distance by his elbow.
‘Ow! What are you doing?’ he protested.
‘What do you want, Potter?’ she snapped.
‘Actually, I wanted to apologise,’ said James, ‘for some of my behaviour this year. Firstly, let me say that what happened on Valentine’s Day was in no way intentional, and certainly not my fault, but I’m sorry anyway. And, in general, if I’ve offended you in any way then I hope you might find it in your heart to forgive me.’
Lily raised an eyebrow. ‘That all?’
James gave her an exasperated look. ‘I don’t say sorry often, you know – you should be treasuring the moment, Evans.’
‘Right then,’ said Lily, with a twitch of a smile.
‘And, well, maybe I can see you this summer?’ James suggested in a way that was probably meant to be nonchalant.
‘I’m serious. I could Floo over and you could show me your Muggle town, or you could come see me, whatever.’
‘Potter!’ Lily looked somewhat flustered now. ‘You – you can’t – look, I’ve got to go, alright?’
She spun around and walked back to her parents.
‘I’ll owl you!’ James yelled after her, then waited.
And yes, just before she left the platform, Lily turned around, still looking confused. James grinned and waved at her, before strolling back us, hands in pockets and whistling, the cocky bastard.
‘Everything alright?’ his mum – Mrs Potter, Goddess of All Things, Especially Cakes - asked.
After that strange little episode, we Flooed triumphantly into the Potter family home, a tumult of noise and stories and dirty laundry. We raced up to James’ room, got into our first fight of the holidays (which I won resoundingly, no matter what Prongs says), regaled Mr & Mrs Potter with all the news of the year in considerable detail and ate quite a ridiculous amount of food.
We then proceeded to make a list of all proposed activities for the summer, featuring such usual gems as terrorising the neighbourhood animals and staying sloshed for as much of the time as humanly possible. James also had one slightly peculiar addendum.
By the end of the summer, Lily will have agreed to go out with me.
I just stared. ‘What? Are you insane?’
‘Not at all. This is it, Pads – my big break! I can feel it!’
‘Really? And how’d you work that out?’
‘I got her flustered at the station. She couldn’t even string a sentence together – and this is Evans we’re talking about! – I play my cards right, and she’s mine.’
For a moment, I wondered whether he’d gone loopy, hastily making arrangements for a swift Apparation to get him straight to St. Mungo’s, but it became clear he was being deadly serious. ‘Well, in that case we’ve got our work cut out – let’s get started! Do you have a plan?’
‘Err… no. Not yet,’ James admitted.
Typical. ‘I despair of you, Prongs! What would you do without me, eh?’
Alright, alright. I confess. This wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind for our last summer of freedom before the real world, and I was a bit alarmed. Here are some of my thoughts of the time, as sent to Moony. Heaven knows why he’s still kept these, but there we are. I’ve only hung onto his end of the conversation for purposes such as this, you understand – keeping historical record and everything.
Help! I’m deeply concerned – Prongs is dead set on getting Lily to go out with him this summer. It’ll probably end in tears, as usual, but that I can deal with.
What if it doesn’t??? What do we do if it doesn’t?
Am I being a bad best mate for freaking out? Because I am. I mean, I know there’ve been girlfriends before, but this is different. It’s Evans!!!
Am I overreacting? I’m overreacting. I shouldn’t send this, but hell I’m going to anyway – give me your Moony wisdom, please!
Yours, with gnashing of teeth,
Melodramatic? Me? Don’t be ridiculous.
Dear me, aren’t you in a state! Pull yourself together, you great girl, and stop worrying so much. Look, Lily and James a matter unto themselves – who knows if they’ll ever get it together, but their affairs are far too complicated for the likes of you and me.
If she says yes? Then that’s great. Prongs isn’t going to run off with her and leave us – you know he won’t.
Try not to make a big thing out of it, alright? You are ridiculous sometimes.
Don’t you dare run off with a girl too, though. Just saying. A bachelor’s club of one is no use to anybody.
And yes, Moony was right. When isn’t he?
Meanwhile, epistles of an entirely different nature were going on. James had taken it into his head to write to Lily. A fine idea certainly, but he was determined to write to her every single day. I haven’t been able to get hold of these notes – Lily won’t let me have them – but I remember the content of some of them. They all ran along a theme, you see.
-“Reason #1 Why Lily Evans Should Go Out With Me: She can only hide her true feelings for me for so long.”
-“Reason #2: Gryffindors make the best couples.”
And so on. Some personal favourites:
-“We’re the two best-looking people in the school – it’d be a work of art!” (apart from me, he meant)
-“McGonagall would love to see her two favourite students get together.” (apart from me, I again hasten to add)
-“I’ve been asking you for bloody ages, it’s only fair.”
I think there were some really sickening ones, as well, but neither of them will admit to this now.
While James dutifully wrote these notes every day for weeks, not once did he get a reply. A new strategy was clearly required. In his time of need, James turned to Peter. Well, more accurately, to Peter’s connections. Peter was going out with Dorcas Meadows at the time, one of Lily’s mates, and never let it be said that James doesn’t make use of all of his resources.
Anyway, it transpired that Lily was planning on holidaying in a Muggle campsite in Sussex that year with her family (poor, poor girl). Therefore, there was only one thing James saw fit to do – stalk her.
I believe I yelped on being informed of the change in our summer itinerary.
‘We’re doing what?’
‘Camping! Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll be at one with the wild, become men, that sort of thing,’ James said with alarming enthusiasm.
‘Prongs, have you ever been camping?’
‘Well, no. All the more reason to go!’
‘Call me mad, but this wouldn’t have anything to do with Evans, would it?’
‘It might do. I, err, might have asked Wormtail to find out from Dorcas what she was doing this summer.’ James studied in his shoe with intense fascination, neck reddening.
‘I see.’ I frowned, considering this long and hard.
James’ face was so pathetic looking that there was nothing for it. After all, I’d go to the ends of the earth with him, so Sussex really wasn’t all that bad. Not that I said any such thing.
‘Please, Sirius, you have to help me out here.’ For a supposedly macho, Quidditch-playing type, James really has got the most doe-like eyes when he wants something. Bless him. They were turned on me then, and I hadn’t got the heart to make him squirm any further.
‘Well then, camping it is!’
‘I owe you one,’ James said in a rush of gratitude.
‘Think nothing of it, mate,’ I said with remarkable charity, all things considered. I don’t go without my comforts for just anyone, you know.
Peter and Dorcas were going to come along as well, for the sport I imagine, so naturally I had to get a fellow bachelor to prevent total insanity.
Interesting turn of events here. We’re off on a little camping expedition! And yes, of course Evans is going to be there. Was there any doubt? Prongs is a man obsessed!
Care to come and lend a bit of moral support? Wormtail’s coming too, but Dorcas is going to be there as well, so I shall be drowning in couples unless you help me out! James has got the biggest tent you’ve ever seen, so there’s loads of room.
Moony was there in my hour of need, of course. He’s good like that.
Camping proved to be an interesting experience, to say the least. None of us had the first idea what we were doing, having never been camping with wizards, let alone Muggles. Needless to say, it was chaos.
‘I don’t understand what’s going wrong!’ James said, flustered, as he watched his three lackeys attempt to assemble the tent (he was master of operations, naturally).
‘This tent was not,’ Remus huffed as he heaved canvas, ‘meant to go up manually!’
‘Right, that’s it,’ I snapped, after another unsuccessful attempt to hammer some pegs in. ‘I don’t care if we have Obliviate the entire field. Engorgio.’
Like an inflating balloon, the tent righted itself, straightening out and slowly resembling something inhabitable. The guy ropes flicked up and plunged themselves back into the ground, which had the unfortunate side effect of sending Peter face first into the mud round the back of the tent. None of the Muggles seemed to have noticed anything, apart from a toddler with pigtails who stared at us all. I pulled a face at her, and she burst into tears. Charming!
‘Right, excellent!’ James beamed, having done precisely nothing. Freeloading wanker (I mean that in the most affectionate way imaginable).
James’ tent was very nice, with a cabin-like interior - log walls, bunk beds and everything. James promptly dropped his bag and started rummaging through it as Moony and I disappeared off to explore the place (and to escape from all the hormones – we could only sustain our interest in other people’ relationships for so long).
What follows is all from Peter – I take no responsibility for any libel incurred.
‘What are you doing?’ Peter asked, wiping the last of the mud from his nose.
James examined the parchment in front of him. ‘Time to put all those map spells we’ve been working on into practice, I think.’
He administered a quick wand tap. Squiggles of ink flowed out that could have been indicating the boundaries of the campsite. Now muttering to himself, he prodded at the rudimentary map until a dot appeared.
‘Aha! Wormtail, come see this! I think this is Lily,’ he said, labelling the moving dot accordingly.
A few minutes more, and the four of us were also added, along with Dorcas at Peter’s behest – alright, alright, so we’re all a bunch of creepy spies and stalkers.
‘Marauders’ Maps – for all your surveillance needs!’ James quipped.
The Lily-dot remained stationary for the time being, so James tacked it up to one of the walls and began to go through his packing again. After a moment, he abandoned all semblance of neatness and emptied everything out onto the floor. He’d managed to acquire a somewhat interesting mix of clothing, as he’d raided his dad’s wardrobe for any Muggle clothes he had left from his younger days, when he used to take James’ mother to Muggle dances as a way of avoiding the same old pureblood faces. (Don’t you see why I love this family? Sheer class.)
Peter was laughing, but James didn’t see what was funny. ‘A little help here?’
Peter waved his arms around helplessly. ‘Sorry. Prongs, mate, this is what Lily’s dad would wear! You’d look a bit strange.’
‘Oh. Any of it any good?’
Peter lifted up a black coat with funny tail things hanging off it. ‘Fraid not. Stick with the jeans and t-shirt.’
‘It’s a little dull, isn’t it?’
Peter looked thoughtful. ‘Hmm, let me think.’ Then he grabbed a quill and parchment and drew something. ‘I’d be no good with the charm, but you could put this on that t-shirt.’
James looked at the picture in puzzlement. ‘Wormtail, how is putting another man’s head on a t-shirt going to help me?’
‘That’s Marc Bolan.’
James frowned. ‘I have no idea who that is!’
‘Right,’ said Peter. ‘Would you like a crash course in the Muggle music of the last decade?’
‘Please,’ James said desperately.
Later that night found us officially settled into our new abode. In what I am told is true camping tradition, we huddled around a fire.
‘This is really what Muggles do for fun?’ I wasn’t overly impressed with this activity.
‘I think it’s great!’ James replied, almost dropping his sausage from his stick into the fire.
Remus and Peter exchanged a smirk at our expense. Tossers.
‘Alright, alright!’ James yelped. ‘Just because you two know all about Muggles, doesn’t mean you have to lord it over me and Black here.’
‘Oh, I rather think it does,’ Remus answered, with Peter nodding agreement. ‘Our one chance to feel superior.’
‘It’s alright, Prongs,’ I muttered, ‘we’ll get them when they’re asleep.’ Peter squeaked to his immediate embarrassment and my immediate gratification.
Remus rolled his eyes. ‘As if. We know your ways too well. Anyway, moving on. What is the plan for tomorrow? In fact, is there one apart from wooing the lovely Lily – who I notice you have as yet failed to make any sort of contact with?’
‘Padfoot…’ James groaned, ‘he’s mocking me.’
‘So he is,’ I said, winking at Remus before patting James on the shoulder.
‘Oh, piss off. And Moony, I’m waiting for the right moment! Remember the three Ps of pranking – patience, persistence and polish. Do have some faith.’ So wonderfully optimistic, James.
I laughed. ‘Pranking, dating, it’s all much the same thing.’
‘Shut up,’ James replied.
‘Alright,’ Remus said, picking another sausage from the plate. ‘So long as you know what you’re doing.’
James couldn’t sleep. He crept out of bed and clambered down the ladder, managing to wake me up in the process, not that he realised. He crept out of the room towards the light in the kitchen. I’ll admit it, I have no shame – I followed him out, hoping to eavesdrop.
Remus was sitting at the table, hands around a cup of tea, staring out of the window.
‘Moony?’ James asked from the doorway.
Remus started. ‘You made me jump!’ He relaxed again. ‘Tea?’
‘You read my mind.’
Remus jabbed his wand at the kettle. ‘Come, sit, let’s talk.’
‘Err, alright then.’ James shuffled into a chair.
‘Do you actually have a plan for tomorrow?’ Remus asked, now busying himself with teabags.
‘I have loads,’ James said. ‘They’re all a bit crap, though. I think I’ll just go and talk to her and see what happens.’
Remus put a steaming mug in front of him. ‘All of this for one girl, eh?’
‘Yeah,’ James nodded. ‘Mad, isn’t it?’
‘Well…’ Remus said with a laugh. ‘It’s how it works, isn’t it?’
‘I really never thought-‘ James began. ‘I dunno. It’s weird. If you’d told me a couple of years ago I’d get this obsessed with one girl who didn’t even like me – well, I wouldn’t have been impressed.’
‘I don’t think it’s that bad,’ Remus said. ‘It’s made you-‘
‘Less of an idiot?’ James supplied. ‘It has at that. Not that Lily appears to have noticed that one.’
‘I don’t know,’ Remus mused. ‘I think she’s different around you now. When was the last time she had a go at you about something?’
James shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t want to get my hopes up.’ He sighed. ‘Do you know what’s really ridiculous?’
‘I think I lo-.’ He stopped, looking slightly terrified.
It was at this point I realised this really wasn’t something to snoop on, and slipped back to bed.
The next day dawned, and James was so petrified he made eggs to distract himself. Damn good they were, too. Just as we finished eating, there was a clap of thunder and James stared out of the window in dismay as it began to pour down with rain. Ah, such drama.
‘Thank Merlin for Apparation, eh?’ I said.
‘I can’t exactly just Apparate into her tent, can I?’ James replied.
I considered this for a moment. ‘Don’t see any reason why not. It’d be different, anyway. So, Wormtail’s off with Dorcas today, and me and Moony are going to busy ourselves elsewhere too, so you’ve got all the time in the world. I expect a full report when we get back!’ I administered James with a hearty slap on the back and walked off to find Moony.
As Remus and I were elsewhere, I really can’t offer you assurance of the 100% validity of what follows next. However, after interrogating them both I rather think it went something like this.
Probably too scared to do anything else, James took my advice and Apparted. How he didn’t Splinch continues to puzzle us all – Evans has always had this ability to turn him into a Squib. He arrived in Lily’s tent, but alas his timing was exceedingly poor, as he managed to turn up just as she was getting changed. I cringe just thinking about it. Of course, he instantly made a run for it, sensibly not Apparating as we would probably never have got him back into one piece.
He didn’t get all that far, probably dithering about whether to go back and apologise or not and getting drenched in the meantime. Lily solved this problem by running out after him (now fully clothed, you’ll be glad to know).
‘POTTER!’ she yelled in her best McGonagall impression, though it was somewhat undermined by the splotches of rain rapidly covering her shoulders. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, understandably confused.
‘Err,’ James faltered, and Lily sighed.
‘Ok, ok, you really are stalking me. Writing to me every day wasn’t enough?’
‘Well, you never replied! You’re cruel, Evans, very cruel.’
Lily laughed. ‘I was so overwhelmed I was speechless, what can I say?’
‘Ah ha!’ James cried. ‘And so hard work pays off.’
She scoffed. ‘What would you know about hard work?’
James was outraged. ‘Excuse me? Ten Outstanding OWLs, thank you very much!’
‘And you did bugger all for any of them,’ she answered, rolling her eyes.
‘That, um, may be true.’
There was a pause. They were both dripping now, James’ hair plastered over his face and Lily’s top attaining a rather see-through consistency – James says he had the most enormous trouble not staring below her face. Before he knew what was going on, Lily ran the last few steps up to him and grabbed him. James was so startled he toppled over, and Lily hovered above him, her knees digging into his hips in a way that James decided was pretty fantastic.
‘Oh, fuck it,’ she muttered, then abruptly kissed him.
James’ brain expired, but he didn’t mourn it much as other reflexes he had no idea he owned kicking in instead. His hands ran up her shoulder blades, her nails dug into his scalp and this was nothing like James had imagined. It was far more brilliant. (This was all described to me in great detail later on. Oh, the things a chronicler must suffer!)
Lily broke off for a moment, breath erratic.
‘I love you,’ James blurted out.
She laughed, then moved in again. ‘I know,’ she murmured.
Prongs didn’t resurface for a really long time – we almost had to send out a search party. Eventually he managed to extract himself from the fair Lily’s embrace, and returned to us a changed man. The next day, the owls from Dumbledore arrived pronouncing them as Head Boy and Girl, and so began the career of James Potter, Saviour of the World. Very dashing he looked too, with that shiny Head Boy badge and everything.
And now? Now, they have become the perfect couple, that sort of pair that you really ought to resent on principle, but you can’t because they’re just so stupidly in love with each other that it would break your heart to see them separated. James is one lucky bastard, I’ll tell you that much.
And now, dear reader, he’s marrying her (Muggle literary reference, alright?).
I suppose it’s not really all that surprising – Remus says he’d always thought they’d get together, proving once again that he’s far too canny for his own good. James gets everything he wants, one way or another, and Lily’s the only woman that could possibly deserve him, in my humble opinion. And James was right – they do look good together. Their children (much as just writing that terrifies me) are going to be absolutely stunning creations, of that you can be certain.
And now I find myself having to write a Best Man speech and work out the best ways to humiliate the poor boy – Remus, I’m sorry but the Myfanwe incident may have to be brought up, for sheer hilarity factor. I’ve become used to the whole idea now, and am just about ready to sell off my friend. Like I said, I’d only give him up to Evans; no one else would do. I’m delighted for them, though, I really am, and will probably get embarrassingly emotional at some point during the day and shall need someone to offer me a Discreet and Manly Tissue.
So ends this telling of one of the great romances of our generation (not that I want to swell James’ head any further, but it’s sort of true).
But fear not, there’s plenty more story left. After all, whatever happened to Peter and Dorcas? And surely both Remus and I are far too handsome and charming to be perennial bachelors throughout all our school days? These questions and many more will be answered, as well as tales of different sorts – Quidditch, Slytherins, an incident with a wombat and much more besides await you.
Harry had to blink a couple of times to help him read the closing paragraphs. It made sense now; he understood. He gently closed the book, amazed at how little time had gone by. The sun had now fully risen, and light was cascading through the windows, ready for a scorching summer’s day. There were footsteps upstairs – the Burrow was beginning to stir. Harry stood up shakily, and with reverence, he carried the journal back up to his room, storing it carefully with Sirius’ letters.
‘You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us?’
Dumbledore’s words came back to Harry, from what must have been a lifetime ago. He smiled. Somehow, Sirius was still here.