Chapter Text
Astronomy Tower, November 6th. 11:45 am.
Dearest reader,
Before we embark on this journey together, for which you no doubt are very eager, we’ll have to make one thing perfectly clear. This is not a diary! Even if it may appear so upon first glance, at least if you are an uninformed ignoramus, which most people are around here.
Diaries are for girls.
And I am a man. Got it?
At least, on my way to becoming one. Prongs is getting on my nerves, gloating because he grew a beard this summer (though it would be very charitable to call the three hairs of pubescent fuzz gracing his chin a beard). He accused me of lathering his shaving cream on my chin every morning, despite the only thing growing there being peach fuzz. The nerve. (Yes, he’s correct. It smells nice, so?)
But the joke’s on him. As of today, I am also 16 years old. Get that. One more year until I’m technically an adult, able to do as I please. My birthday won’t be a huge thing this year, as it coincides with the full moon tonight. Moony asked me if it would be a problem for me that we wouldn’t get to celebrate properly – he’s so silly sometimes. I told him already I’d much rather hang out with him and the gang, just the four of us, than drink copious amounts of firewhiskey in the common room in a forced performance of teenage carelessness.
My mother sent her usual howler for my birthday, telling me I’m a blood traitor, abomination, bane of her existence...etc. She’ll be happy to learn that I’m planning to rid her of my presence next summer.
But I digress.
What’s important for you to understand is that this is not one of those pink little booklets with plush ponies on the cover, into which little immature girls pour their heartfelt little sorrows (“Today, in the hallway, Sirius Black nearly glanced at me, but I would never stand a chance with him because he’s much too cool to ever consider me, etc. etc.”).
Okay then, I hear you asking. If this is not a diary, then what is it? Because it awfully looks like a diary.
Well, then. You asked, I deliver. These are the Annals of the Esteemed M. Padfoot.
(And no, ‘annals’ does not have anything to do with ‘anal’. Get your minds out of the gutter, kids.)
Here, in this delightful little volume that I found in the second-floor lavatories (it is truly astounding what people will throw away these days), I will narrate the heroic deeds of myself and my friends, Mssrs. Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail, for your pleasure and education.
If you haven’t heard of us before, don’t despair. You will know about us soon enough. And you should. For example, if you happen to be one of those fortunate creatures attending Hogwarts after Ms. McGonagall's retirement, you will not know tough times as we have done, future reader. Nor will you ever know such a team of troublemakers, or brilliant pranksters, as we have been. There is no doubt that we will go down in history.
Imagine us like the three musketeers, only that there are four of us, of course.
This will suffice as an introduction for the time being. We must begin with our plot, otherwise my hand is going to cramp and I’ll get bored.
Where to begin this epic tale, then? Well, probably right here, in the astronomy tower, where I’m currently sitting for my tutoring session. Wait – before you say anything – yes, I know, you can’t believe it. Extra tuition? Me, one of the most brilliant minds to ever grace the halls of this school? Let me explain: Of course, I’m not here because I need help with Astronomy. Astronomy is just about the easiest subject one could imagine. You stare at the sky and pencil in the stars in your chart, and the rest you can look up in your textbook. Or you can copy off of your pal Moony, should you be too lazy to do the former.
Anyway, it shouldn’t pose a challenge for the highest-ranking student in year four – okay, second-highest ranking student! James is very fussy about that one. Can you believe him? Only because I tanked in Divination last year. The new teacher, Trelawney, took points off my exam because she thought my far-fetched, completely fabricated prophecy wasn’t visionary enough. That lady is mad as a hatter.
James took his exam right after me, and so he lathered it up extra thick for her, predicting the deaths of several people we know, making up a magical war breaking loose, and, most far-fetched of all his prophecies, he told her that Lily Evans would agree to marry him. As if.
But you better believe that he got that A+! But rest assured, I won’t make it this easy for him in this year’s OWLs.
The funny thing is that Moony should be top of our class, because he’s much more hardworking than I and James. But he’s ill too often to actually get the grades he deserves. One thing you guys should know about my mate Moony – he’s not just any boring old bloke, like the other kids in our class. Nope. He’s got a secret.
We call it his furry little problem.
It is…a feral ferret he keeps as a pet, which ends up scratching him up quite badly.
Bollocks! I hope you didn’t fall for that one. Good. I’d hate writing all of this down for a bunch of idiots. For example, Ravenclaw’s Libby Jones believed the story about the ferret. And here I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be clever! The cow should remember not to eavesdrop on the wrong people at the library, is all I’m saying.
You know what? I’m not going to write down Moony’s secret. This book might fall into the wrong hands one day, and I don’t want to incriminate him. Also, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you guys to know. He’d be worried that you’d see him differently if you knew.
Oh, Moony Moons. He’s such a good guy. A real sheep in wolf’s clothing, if you get me – enough! Back on topic: What in Merlin’s name is somebody as smart as Sirius Black doing being tutored in Astronomy?
Well. There’s a simple reason for me being here. I’m not here to study, of course. I’m on a secret mission. And the objective of said secret mission is making her way towards me as I’m writing this, looking rather stern…uh-oh….
Phew, I saved that one by a whisker’s breadth. Josephine was clip-clopping her way towards me in her heels (yes, I am aware that the Hogwarts dress code does not approve of students wearing heels, but she gets away with it, because she’s French and special), and I thought, welp, this is it. Now I’m done for.
“Sii-rius,” she said in her adorable accent, scowling at me. “What ze ‘ell are you doing? Ou-where is your star chart?”
Even upset like this, she looked beautiful and crazy hot – maybe even more so than usual. I got lost staring in her eyes (okay, maybe her eyes and a few centimetres below, but she has freckles in her décolleté, have you ever seen such a thing before?) and was about to forget about her question, but then she noticed the diary on my desk – not the diary, of course, but the Annals of the Esteemed…etc., well, you get the gist.
She grabbed the book before I overcame my temporary stupor and started reading it!
“Stop,” I yelled and grabbed the book. “That’s private!”
She pursed her ruby-red lips. “Private, he?”
“Yes,” I hastened to explain, “I don’t want anybody to see it. It’s, um, my poetry.” I lowered my head, which felt like a tomato about to explode. Poetry! I could have thought of a better excuse than that. But in the vicinity of this divine creature, thinking fast does not come as naturally to me as it usually does.
Josephine seemed to like my story about the poetry, though, because she gave me a quick, dry smile. She also told me to finish working on my poetry during the break and get started on my star chart (marking the southern constellation, a task that would bore a three-year-old to tears).
Josephine, by the way, is an exchange student from Beauxbatons, that wizarding school in France, that only hot girls seem to attend. I don’t know what they do with the boy wizards in France. Maybe they get sent to Holtzhausen, that strange Academy for Witchcraft in Germany. I met some people from there on holiday with my parents, and all of them looked like dudes, even the girls.
Anyway, Josephine is in year seven and super smart, which is why she was allowed to be our first exchange student in five years, and also why she ended up offering tutoring for us younger students. And did I mention that she’s fit?
Listen, the first time I saw her, back when Dumbledore introduced her to the student body in the Great Hall at the beginning of term, I was already smitten. I’ve never felt like that about a girl before, ever.
And of course, she wouldn’t usually look twice at me, an ordinary bloke from year five (though even the mere sight of her backside is delightful, too, if you get me). Not accounting for a few disciplinary hearings, I haven’t made a name for myself yet at this school. I’m too lazy for Quidditch and also not likely to be found in the higher social circles of Hogwarts – like that bore of a Slug Club, for example. But I wouldn’t be Padfoot, daring hero and conqueror of hearts, if I hadn’t made a plan. A plan to get closer to the object of my adoration. And that plan was to sign up for extra tutoring with our new exchange student, Josephine Debonair!
It's genius, I know.
Okay, so far, she hasn’t spoken more than a few words to me, and those were about class. But that’s enough for me for the time being. Even just getting to look at her for 60 uninterrupted minutes is pure heaven…
Well, I’ve written enough now. Tutoring is over, and it’s time to get back to the real essentials of life:
Roast potatoes, sausages, pudding, chocolate cake, pumpkin juice…you know. Lunch.
History of Magic. Same day, 2 pm.
After lunch, my buddy Prongs and I took some time before our next class to indulge in our greatest passion – chatting up girls. Well, he tried to chat up a girl, and I went with him for support – and for the entertainment. My buddy Prongs is an amazing pickup artist – it is always a privilege to witness him in action.
“Hey, Evans,” he yelled across the hallway to Lily Evans. “What about a date tonight?”
She just looked at him and pretended to barf. I have to hand it to him, his charm is undeniable.
James has been convinced that Lily Evans is the love of his life ever since our old Divination teacher gave him the prophecy that he would marry a ‘lady with auburn tresses and emerald eyes’. But on the same day, that old nutter told me that I’ll end up in prison for 13 years, being framed for a crime I didn’t commit – complete bollocks, if you ask me. But ever since, James has been undeterred about being irrevocably in love with Lily Evans – though she has shown no signs of ever returning his feelings.
So yeah, things aren’t going too well for Prongs in the ladies’ department. Me, on the other hand? Well. Everybody seems to have this idea that I’m this Casanova. But I don’t know why, because right now, there’s not much going on in the ladies’ department for me. Nothing, to be precise. Crickets.
Okay, last year, at the Ravenclaw’s fancy dress party, I may have snogged three different girls on the same night. But one of them was Stefanie Maier, our German transfer student. She’s been after me for ages – she gives me the creeps, to be honest. And she just pushed her tongue down my throat!
Well, I didn’t exactly complain, at least not that night. Because she did look kind of cute in her fairy costume. But she’s actually horrible! She should have been sorted into Slytherin, really. She’s got a sharp tongue – not literally, I’d have noticed – but generally? I make sure to give her a wide berth, especially since that night. Whenever I cross her in the hallway, she’ll stare at me like she’s fantasizing about drinking my blood or something. She might be a vampire, coming to think of it…
Welp, Moony just told me I should stop spreading rumours about people. Even though he admits that Stefanie Maier would not be his first choice among the ladies of Hogwarts, he does remain open to the possibility that she might actually be nice once you get to know her properly.
Well, I told him that is drivel. Stefanie Maier is evil; you can tell by looking at her.
Moony is being way too diplomatic, as usual. That might be because he always had to struggle with rumours about himself, too. We’ve all kept his secret under wraps, but every now and then, there will be a few incorrigible people who feel the need to ask dumb questions, like how he got all those scars.
And then we tell them that story about the ferret, and if that’s not enough to shut them up, we make them shut up with a few spells. And by spells, I don’t mean ‘Silencio!’, if you get me…But I should stop writing stuff like that down. Moony’s been reading along over my shoulder, and if he finds out what we did to Dennis Fortescue last night, he’d get all sad because he’d have to deduct points from Gryffindor for us having hexed Dennis so he’d end up with all those spots in his face.
But Moony, the guy deserved it! You didn’t hear what he said. I think I’ll wait for his spots to heal and then I’ll hex him again.
Hah, imagine if somebody hexed Stefanie Maier like that, people wouldn’t even notice. Or can you have spots on top of spots?
Yeah, yeah, you’re right. We should be concentrating on our lesson. History of Magic. My favourite subject right now. I find it fascinating. I could watch for hours as Binn’s mouth keeps moving without adding up to anything intelligible. My favourite thing about the OWLs this year is that I’ll get to drop this subject afterwards. It doesn’t help being sat next to Moony, the only person in school already worrying about the OWLs. The school year barely just started, for Merlin’s sake! But try to get that into his thick skull.
Also, who even needs an OWL in History of Magic? James and I sure won’t. We’ve already made a perfect plan: After school, we’ll get drafted into the Ministry and become Aurors. That way, we’ll get to legally blow out the brains of all those dark arts fanatics! Awesome!
Like Snivellus, for example. I’m telling you, that guy is getting more and more loathsome by the minute. You never see him without his greasy nose buried in his potions book these days. He’s probably trying to come across as an intellectual, but he’s got all the charm of a fat, hairy spider. And now he’s stealing books from the Restricted Section of the library, too!
I know he does because I found one of his notes he forgot inside one of the books he returned. His handwriting is easy to spot – thin and spidery like he is, and also, there were those spots where he drooled on the paper whenever he wrote down a curse.
The nerve of that guy! I mean, stealing books from the Restricted Section was our idea, first! Not that we’d ever use the books from there to teach ourselves dark magic. We use those books to expand our knowledge, which we in turn use for good causes. (Well, Prongs and I do that. Wormtail only ever touches those books to pile them up so he can step on them to reach Moony’s secret chocolate stash. Moony hasn’t caught on to that yet.)
The good causes that we need our Restricted Section knowledge for, you ask? My, you need to be aware that the Restricted Section doesn’t only contain books with Dark Magic. They also put books there because they include spells that are considered too advanced and dangerous for students to know about.
Obviously, that isn’t true for us.
It all started in year three, when Prongs, Wormtail, and I found out that our good friend Moony is actually a W------. Well, you can imagine the kind of shock that was – for Moony. The poor guy had been hoping that nobody here would ever find out about his condition, but of course, he couldn’t hide it from us forever. We’re much too smart for that. Poor Moony was convinced that we’d kick him to the curb after finding out, for reasons which still remain a mystery to me. I mean, I thought he was cool before. But now? Knowing that once a month, he becomes a fully fledged, ferocious…well. Super cool!
After he realized we weren’t going to ostracize him, he ended up telling us everything. He told us about how he has to spend the night all by himself in that hut, about the pain and the danger… and immediately, we were set – we wanted to tag along!
So, James and I got to thinking. How could we accompany Moony during those nights without risking being ripped to pieces by him? We found the solution within a few nights of research, using the cloak James so conveniently inherited from his Dad. Well, we found the solution in theory. Practically, it took us another two years. But now, in year five? We did it, ladies and gentlemen! We are no longer Remus, James, Peter and Sirius. Nope. We are the esteemed Mssrs. Moony, Prongs, Wormtail and Padfoot!
And it’s pure bliss.