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Maraudic Revelations by whirligig
Chapter 1 : September 1, 1973
 
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Sirius, year 1

September 1, 1973

 

I"m in Gryffindor.

I'm in stupid, bloody Gryffindor, in this stupid, bloody tower.  And this is a stupid bloody dorm room to boot.  I hate red.  I hate gold.

I don't even want to think about how angry my father will be. I can't believe my bad luck.  I've entirely bolloxed my whole school existence, and I've only been here maybe four hours.

The blokes I sat with on the train- I think one's name was Rodolphus, I don't remember the other- maybe Wilkes? or something- they're both in Slytherin.

Where I ought to be.

 

 

 

 

..I didn't really like them that much though.  To be really, perfectly honest.  Wilkes tripped a girl and she flew headlong into the food trolley, for no particular reason.  Maybe she was a mudblood, I don't know- but it just seemed pretty stupid, and there they all are, with these big smirking grins plastered on their faces interrupted by these great guffaws.  But stupid, you know.  Just idiotic.  I mean, I laughed too, but it was more because they were rather hulking great brutes and as formidable as my eleven-year-old muscles are, their eleven-year-old muscles looked somehow less than dainty.

My family is as pureblood as the next good family, and, you know, mudblood-hating kind of goes hand in hand with that sort of thing.  But they're not idiots, you know.  Well, maybe Regulus.  And he's a right git, so why am I even concerned about these goons?

I think I could go mad listening to Regulus go on about honor and principles- I mean, Merlin's beard he's eight years old, I don't even think that's anywhere NEAR normal.  And the way mother pets on him like he's God's bloody gift to the house of Black.  TOUJOURS PUR!

 

Actually, much as I know that I really should be in Slytherin- every single Black has been in Slytherin, who am I to mess with family tradition?- maybe it will be alright in Gryffindor- if only to see JUST how upset it makes Mother and Father.

I can't even fathom it.  Maybe I shouldn't tell them.

But really, they'll find out somehow- Narcissa will surely tell her parents..bloody gossip she is.

Or I could just write them.

 

DEAREST MOTHER AND FATHER:

You'll be happy to note that I've gone and landed myself in GRYFFINDOR.

I know that you will be EVER SO PLEASED.

 

Your most loyal, mind-bogglingly wonderful, pureblood and firstborn son,

SIRIUS

 

That's rather appealing, isn't it?  I think I will send exactly this.  Oh, how mother will wail, Father will fume, his great brows will furrow, casting the dastardly letter into the flames, muttering curses in every tongue he knows, and OH how he shall CURSE THE DAY that his son SIRIUS THE GREAT was born!

It will be fantastic.

 

There's this boy staring at me from the bed across.  Well, not really, he kind of peeks and looks very embarrassed to say anything.  Let's see how long he can hold out, eh!

Actually he's the one I saw when I was about to put on the Sorting Hat.  I didn't tell you about that.

So, I was practicing my 'lofty sneering' expression- because Father seems to wear it so well, and he always just OOZES confidence- which can really be quite intimidating- so anyhow, stupid arse that I am, I decided to be very confident and to lord over all the lowly first years- even though Regulus tells me I looks a bit as if I've swallowed a sock.  Prat.

And of course, this is right when I've been called to put on the hat, so I trip over my feet but still!  CONFIDENCE OOZER!  LORD OF FIRST YEARS!

But then, you know for this split-second before the Hat drops over my eyes and blocks everything from view, this bloke catches my eye.  And I was, and am so far into my Hogwarts experience, unbeLIEVably unsatisfied with the people I've met, and so this rather friendly-looking bloke catches my eye and I think my GOD I am so sick of idiots, and all this mudblood-pureblood utter crap.  And so he gives me this little smile, a kind of, hello!  I'm a nice person, maybe we'll be friends, eh?  and I'm just frowning a bit, thinking, EH??

But he has a pleasant face, with rather a large nose (although not as large as this greasy- haired boy I saw earlier- nose of EPIC proportions-) and- very cool- a long bit of scar down his cheek.  Wonder where he got that bit of manliness? I wish I had a scar.  Everyone would hear the stupendous tale of how I fought off a dragon single-handedly while defending a beautiful maiden, who, of course, would be much older than my eleven-year-old self, and much bustier than any eleven-year-old girl I've ever laid eyes on.

Anyhow.

So then down the hat goes, and I'm still thinking, 'BOY HOW GREAT WOULD IT BE TO HAVE FRIENDS THAT AREN'T COMPLETELY INSUFFERABLE PRATS!'  Because, you know, being with Regulus constantly TRULY takes its' toll.

That hat was awful though.  It was like it was strolling around my BRAIN, which was, you know, awkward to say the least, and I could almost hear it probing around in my thoughts.

'Ambitious?' it goes.  'Yes, I suppose...and headstrong, yes..'  and here I'm thinking, 'la dee dah, ho hum, Slytherin for me I suppose..' because, you know, for La Famille Noir, Slytherin is a complete no-brainer.

But THEN it starts  'But also very playful, loyal, a thirst for friendship and strong bonds..yes, yes..'  and I go 'Playful!' because I am not PLAYFUL.  Puppies are playful.  and butterflies and sunny meadows with frolicking deer.  Sirius Black is not playful.  What a bloody pretentious hat.

So anyways, there I am, grumbling to this ratty old hat, telling it how STOIC I am, how I come from an old PUREBLOOD family of UNTARNISHED REPUTATION, and the bloody hat, the bloody HAT goes,

'Gryffindor.'

That's it!  just, 'Gryffindor.'  Cool as you like, no questions or anything.  As if it hadn't seen my ENTIRE FAMILY IS SLYTHERIN AND THEY WILL MURDER ME WITH GIANT BLOODY AXES.

stupid bloody hat.

 

So, here I am now, pondering my fate and trying not to look at this bloke sitting across from me with this old grimy book he keeps leafing through.  I think he's getting the courage to speak!  Ah hah, We shall have a name to record in your dusty innards soon.  If he's not a sodding idiot of course.  I suppose I might as well make the best of this, eh?  Oh hell.  I'm a Slytherin through and through, who am I kidding.

I'd better put this diary away before I look like a complete wanker.

 


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