three eights (ladyblack888) wrote in parchment_bits,
three eights

Sirius' diary

Dear Diary,


Stack of parchment sheets with a leather cover with my name on it, written in a very nancy way,

What in the world possessed you to buy me this crap? Motherhood is making you scary.

Diary, whose existence I'll probably forget in a couple of days, so the header doesn't matter anyway,

I'm Sirius Black, scion of the Decrepit and Most Deranged House of Black. Or at least I was until a couple of weeks ago. You see, I ran away from home. Not for the first time, mind you, but now it's for good.
It's not that I've issues with facing adversities. Hell, I'm a Gryffindor, facing adversities is what I'm good at, but sometimes facing them is like banging your head against a wall. Which is something I already do too often.
The main problem isn't my father. He never bothered me much, and I guess that deep down he does what he thinks is best. Shame, though, that he doesn't see how wrong his ideas are. I don't think we could be friends if he thought differently, but at least I wouldn't need to constantly hear that crap about the pureness of blood.
The main problem is my mother. Nothing I do is good enough for her. It doesn't matter what I do, anyway, because everytime I'd try to do things differently, either to please her, or to make her shut the fuck up, she'd say that the other way, the way I had done it the first time, was the right way. And, of course, even a house elf is better than I am.
And it's not like she's any good. I know for a fact that my grandparents thought for several years that she was Squib. And although she wasn’t one, they took care of marrying her right after she left Hogwarts, when she was still too pretty for her total lack of talent to show.
The thing is, she never managed to break me, control me and live vicariously through me. Like she does with Regulus, my younger brother the spare. And that's something she never was able to accept.
Sometimes I don't know if I bother to be good at things because I want to, or because I just want to rub it on her ugly face.

And that's where you come in, Diary.
Andromeda, one of my cousins and the only person I care for in that family (well, Andromeda and uncle Alphard, that is. He's all right. Too laid back to be around much, but at least he has the right ideas), gave you to me. She eloped to marry a Muggle-born, and held her wedding party at The Three Broomsticks, and told me that whenever the Blacks made her want to scream, she'd pour all her frustrations into a diary. She showed me a couple of very selected pages on the subject.
Cor, but that woman can swear! She had one page full of cunts. Well, not real cunts, but the word 'cunt' written several times all over the page.
So she decided it was probably a good idea for me to do the same

Currently I'm living at the Potters. James Potter is one of my best friends and the best brother I could ask for. And his parents just ace. I mean, they took me in, no questions asked, and Mrs Potter even went to my ex-home, demanding the rest of my stuff. How great is that?
The problem is that, before I ran away, I never expected much from my family. Sure, I'd get royally pissed whenever they started with their usual accusations, falling all over again in the same mistake, to the point of yelling at the unfairness of it all and trashing things, but that was as far as it would get me.
Now, the Potters took me in, they believed in me, and although I know that they only expect me to be happy, the idea of letting them down in whatever way scares the shit out of me. And I don't like that

Anyway, my other best friends are Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, and together with James we are the Marauders. It's awesome! Together we're invincible, no one can get to us, no one is better than we are. And we're going to leave our mark in Hogwarts, like 'The Marauders were here'. Like we're immortal, or something.
Remus is cool. He's quiet and observant (but just as mischievous as the rest of us), and while he looks fragile, he's in fact a werewolf. A big mean werewolf.
Peter's all right, too, and I know he means well, even if sometimes he means too well and ends up making a total arse out of himself.
And the best thing? James, Peter and I are illegal Animagi!
James is a stag (Prongs), Peter's a rat (Wormtail) and I'm a big black dog (Padfoot).
Remus is not an Animagus, because, like I said, he's a werewolf (Moony). And that's why we became what we are, because he has to endure really painful monthly transformations, and our animal forms can help him.
If you could just see his face the first time we showed him. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I mean, not Remus being beautiful. I mean, sure he's fit, for a guy, but that's not what I mean. Oh, bollocks! What I mean is that the sheer happiness on his face was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I never thought it was possible to do something so perfect. It's what magic is really about, you know? Not the everyday stuff we do with our wands. We were born with it, like the ability to walk on two legs. But that was real magic.
If someone ruins it, if someone makes Remus unhappy with it, I'll personally chase after them and kill them with my own hands in the most gruesome way possible. Because no one can break the best thing I've we've ever done.

Well, that was interesting. I ended up writing much more than I thought I would. But now I should try and get some sleep, because tomorrow James and I are returning to Hogwarts for our 6th year, and we'll be meeting Moony. And Wormtail.

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