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Post by siriusblack on Jul 22, 2012 17:17:05 GMT -5
Sunny weather was a rarity for Hogwarts. The country had not experienced a particularly pleasant summer and autumn seemed to promise a particularly brutal winter. Today was no exception as Sirius rose to pouring rain and bitter cold.
It was much harder to force oneself to rise to such gloomy circumstance. The usual pattern for weekends tended to be Remus waking extra early for study and James for practice, whilst Sirius would follow late morning when the three would meet for breakfast. Peter would not emerge until sometime after noon, oblivious to this routine, and the four would then commence with organised chaos then. Breakfast always came first.
Sirius dragged himself out of bed reluctantly. The previous night had been a particularly late one pursuing a fifth year Ravenclaw girl in the library. It was one of few circumstances which would lead to Sirius being caught in such a place. He had actually gone to the trouble of completing his homework purely for an excuse for conversation after spotting her in the corridor. Sirius could not say if the effort was worth it in the end, but he knew he wouldn’t be bothering again anytime soon.
After a quick wash and throwing on some fresh clothes, Sirius headed down the stairs to the Common Room. Another irritating side affect of dismal weather was the vastly crowded living spaces and corridors. As Sirius began his decent to the Great Hall, he found it was highly necessary to brutally clear a path of lost, confused first years loitering the halls or jumping on and off staircases and giggling as they shifted beneath them. What should have been short journey dragged excessively because of this.
When he finally did make it he quickly grabbed a seat and cleared the surrounding first years who hadn’t quite grasped the age order of the table. Sirius didn’t mind specifically where he sat as long as it was in vicinity to one of the larger trays of bacon.
As he sat buttering toast and waiting on his close friends, he noticed several girls at the Hufflepuff table watching him, whispering and giggling. For Sirius, this was a regular occurrence. He had learned that girls like this came from all houses and tended to travel in packs, many of which had taken to following him around the school on occasion. The marauder’s map was an excellent resource for escaping them in such circumstance. Although he had no desire to encourage this behaviour, it could be entertaining to play with them every once and a while. This morning he treated them to a wink and a grin, which unsurprisingly lead to high pitch squealing and blushing and earned them a multitude of disapproving stares around the breakfast hall.
Quickly bored of that, Sirius grabbed a Daily Prophet and began catching up with some national Quidditch results.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2012 20:15:55 GMT -5
Trying to take extra care in not waking any of his fellow roommates, Remus realized that something was out of place. Namely – an empty bed. Sirius' bed. He was used to being the first to wake up – a master at maneuverings around the abandoned paraphernalia of the previous hectic days, going through a morning routine in relative silence although nothing short of a herd of galloping thestrals were likely to wake any of his friends up, particularly on the week ends. Occasionally, James might be out – but he was still the acknowledge early riser. Seeing that he wasn't the first to be up and wiping sleep from his eyes – well, it was slightly unsettling.
The clothes he had laid out the night before were still there, so he dressed as quickly as he could in the practised quiet (although he took care to check for any unrecognizable powders or items secreted into the pockets or dusted on the fabric – just in case). He almost forgot his book, on his way out of the door, but eventually he got everything together – slightly soggy shoes and all. He got into the common room, which was thus far populated with still-yawning students, and a pair of over-industrious seventh year's playing chess in the corner. Sirius wasn't among any of them.
He wasn't worried. Oh no, far from it. Sirius was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But he was slightly worried for other people. Depending on the moods of his friends, and admittedly himself, they could be unleashed terrors – but Remus of course was the only one who worried about getting back on that leash afterwards. As far fetched as it might be, he couldn't quite shake the idea that maybe he'd gotten up for a particular reason – causing havoc somewhere, at the very least for someone of the opposite gender, or a particular sect of Slytherins. It shouldn't have been his business – but last year he'd been given a job in the hopes that he could at least try to keep things under control; and he'd already failed it in so many was he wasn't eager to let it continuously slip.
Needless to say, he was quite relieved to eventually find his friend in the relatively (hopefully) peacefully practice of setting down to breakfast. He hadn't seemed to have particularly bothered anyone either – although a few of the younger students were eyeing him with something akin to awe and fear, and a set of girls in yellow-trimmed robes were twittering away like noisy, preening canaries. But, as far as that went – that was just business as usual surrounding the errant Black.
“You're up early, arn't you?” He asked, as casually as he could, slipping onto the bench across from him. “Alright then? I thought you'd be dead to the world, with no classes on.”
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Post by siriusblack on Jul 23, 2012 13:07:39 GMT -5
After skimming through the mid-week results and reading up on stories surrounding games to come, Sirius flipped to the front and began reading the Prophet’s cheery outlook. To be fair to the paper, it didn’t have much choice. Random killings occurred with no reasoning, riots flared up all over the country and people continued to disappear. It wasn’t cheery material to work with; Sirius hadn’t seen a terrible pun headline for days as even the condemnation of political figures took a back seat to crime. Not the best way to start ones morning. He figured he’d stick with the sport section until the world brightened up.
When he heard a familiar voice he grinned and folded up his paper, happy for Remus to shelter him from view of the girls who had so conveniently placed themselves directly within his line of sight.
“Alright Moony?” he greeted cheerfully, he realized his friends tentative manor towards him. Sirius wasn’t too sure whether he was witnessing worry or suspicion in his friend but it amused him that merely waking at a decent hour would be cause for concern. Remus was fully justified in his suspicions of course, but this was one instance where that was not the case.
“Interesting, I thought you would have been up several hours preparing for our new modules,” Sirius joked, and offered his friend the copy of the Daily Prophet. “It may alarm you further to learn that the little homework we have accumulated so far I’ve already completed,” he continued, grasping the opportunity to wind his friend up. “I suggest we spend the day, and every Saturday to follow, engaging in mind numbing study.”
Sirius paused for effect, and for bacon, before continuing, “In other news, I have come across a sneezing hex which I propose we take to the kitchen elves for Slytherin dishes. Thoughts?”
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Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2012 21:51:33 GMT -5
There were a chorus of disappointed sighs and disgruntled, angry noises from the girls at his back – who were certainly not happy with their now-obstructed view – but it was an easy thing to ignore when you hung around with a certain sect, and Remus didn't take it too personally. Instead, in an attempt to keep neutral and to not immediately ask if Sirius had done something a prefect might want to be warned about, Remus busied himself with grabbing a roll off the table, tearing a careful slight along it's side with his fingers as he scanned the opposite side of newspaper. It wasn't the happiest sort of reading.
“Hmm?” He had fixated himself on a bold-printed headline summing up the disappearance of a banker's wife and their two children, when he realized there was something or someone else he was meant to focus on. “Oh, yes. Just...” He frowned, seeming to realize what exactly Sirius had said a moment later. “Can you please not call me that with other people are around? It's not exactly...” Normal? Flattering? He'd brought it up before, but it just seemed to pass by without any real acknowledgement. Frankly, he didn't mind it when his friends called him Moony – but he sometimes wondered what the general populace would think of his apparent nickname. He certainly didn't want them guessing the real reason – but any other reasoning seemed particularly lewd. Especially coming from the mouth of Sirius Black – who wasn't exactly well known for his own moral compass.
“I was – last night.” He had gotten particularly far in his studies, and it hadn't made sense to quit when he could just finish things and have a day to himself to get ahead or simply find some semblance of relaxation. “ Which is why I wasn't this morning. Good to know you've finally gotten things straight though – not that you've ever needed it. ” And here he was thinking the day his friends devoted themselves wholly to scholarly pursuits was the day pigs sprouted wings.
Of course – he was praising his friend's change of heart too soon. He stopped in his careful preparation for buttering his bun, after he accidentally ripped off the end. “Really.” He continued dryly. “ Well, I suppose – so long as we're 'hypothetically' proposing such a venture – when are you planning this? For the entirety of the house? A particular target? And do you fully agree that if you are caught – again – that there will be no mention of help from a particular Gryffindor Prefect? Who, of course, will be denying anything you say against him with all the power of persuasion he possesses?”
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Post by siriusblack on Jul 24, 2012 14:24:49 GMT -5
“Call you what?” Sirius asked distractedly, by now it had become second nature to him to refer his friend by their ‘other’ names he hadn’t even noticed. He’d grown quite fond of his alter ego, a dog’s life was preferable at times and he and James had taken on their new nicknames easily where their friends firmly resisted. Having said that, Sirius could see why Padfoot and Prongs was a preferable code to Moony or Wormtail. He often wondered what eavesdroppers must assume.
“Mate, I was joking. Honestly?” He shook his head in disapproval at Remus’ study habits; at least his own late night study had been an acceptable pretence for romance. Both James and Remus were exceptionally intelligent, as was Sirius, but Remus excelled his two friends academically through sheer effort and study. Sirius on the other hand would rather coast with as little effort as he could get away with.
“There will be no mention of prefect assistance. The mere fact that you are one hurts me. In fact, if you mention your title again I may spew my breakfast back. As an officer of school law my health should be a concern for you.”
Sirius was joking of course, if anything he found Remus’ title hilarious. Yes, Remus was the voice of reason which stopped certain pranks from escalating. The Slytherin house had no idea how close they came to all simultaneously falling in love with Professor Slughorn one morning. But Remus was, as a general rule, highly involved in said mischief, yet his butter wouldn’t melt persona moved him from suspect number one to perfect prefect. It had come in handy several times already.
“I propose a mass target - that might be more achievable to begin with. They won’t know, of course, but we will,” Sirius plotted, with the trademark wolfish grin which came as standard with such a plot. “Unless it makes them severely ill,” he added as an afterthought, “in which case, bonus!”
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Post by Deleted on Jul 24, 2012 21:03:33 GMT -5
“Why would I lie to you?” Remus added, the slightest hint of a smile curling at the edge of his lips – despite the slightly downtrodden mood he had woken up with. “Or at least – lie about that? Give me some credit to some up with something a little more creative. Besides, not all of us are lucky enough to not have to decide between late-night trysts with girls of the week and passing class.”
Once an idea had gotten into Sirius' head, there was no way he'd have any real hope in shaking it out. James, perhaps – but he'd most likely to agree with it as being brilliant, so that didn't help him. Sometimes it was better to just take a back seat, and be there in case a simple sneezing charm ended up giving an entire house a serious, irreversible ailment. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to do much else now – just the mention of Sirius spewing anything made him take one look at his meagre meal and set the torn apart bread aside.
“In all honesty, Sirius? I've been worried about your mental health long before I ever became 'an officer of the law.' I think a significant factor in me being one is to try and protect everyone else's' well-being too.” Not that it had – because indeed, as much as he preached and nay-sayed many of the more outlandish ideas, he didn't stop half of them. Some of it certain was because there was no way he, as a single person, was going to stand up against his friends. But, admittedly – there was a good chunk of him that took pleasure out of causing a good bit of non-threatening fun. Sometimes he hated and became infinitely frustrated with that bit of himself – but it stuck on nonetheless.
So he gave in – not that he hadn't already budged significantly in the direction of lending his own expertise into this particular venture. “Since you seem so very eager – I'm guessing you'll want to implement this as soon as possible?” He kept his voice low, looking surreptitiously down the table to make sure that there weren’t any younger students close enough to listen in. Partly because they wouldn't want to give anything away to members of their own house outside their immediate band – partly because he still knew he had to show some semblance of being a role model, and discussing prank tactics on another house seemed to be quite counter-productive in that vein.
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Post by siriusblack on Jul 25, 2012 13:15:53 GMT -5
“It’s not luck my friend it’s a firm life choice with which I am highly committed,” Sirius answered rather seriously. He was very proud of many of his achievements which were the result of dedicated hard work. Mastering the ability to transform his entire body into that of a totally different species was his excuse for never having to invest any effort in transfiguration ever again. But he was also very much a believer in not taking life too seriously. “I would advise you to sample my life for a week,” Sirius proposed, “Aim for minimal study. If you do insist on excessive study sessions in the library you may as well add an attractive ‘study’ partner to the equation. And no, not me.”
Sirius’ grin widened as he witnessed Remus’ objections diminish. He had come to recognise the signs in his friend when he would argue to the end against an idea and when he could easily be convinced. This was certainly the latter and he knew he had just seen a tiny green light for this idea. Truthfully, Sirius had not expected such an easy battle.
“I had intended to wait for Prongs,” he admitted, James was excellent at those sort of spells and an extra pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt. “But I imagine his absence is down to chasing a certain red head.” James Potter, for all his wonderful talents, was guilty of an almost obsessive interest in Lily Evans. In recent years this had culminated in him taking every opportunity to impress the girl. “We may be waiting a while for her to send him away, the inevitable eventuality.”
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Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2012 16:12:00 GMT -5
“If only it were easy as that.” He was relatively content with his life – save for a few major things that he didn't have a hope of changing anyways. But although he would fiercely defend the merits of his study habits, there had been moments where he had wished certain things – schools, social attitudes – came as easily to him as it did his friends. It sometimes felt as if he were running along and giving in twice as much effort as it took Sirius in particular to breeze through a day.
“Besides, it's all habit by now – and not just for me. What would people think? I've gotten a reputation to uphold as much as you do. Of course, if you wanted to make it an even switch, then that would be interesting. I lay off the books, and we actually see you pick one up for once. That doesn't involve something extra curricular. Or Quidditch.”
“Of course – I wasn't planning on running off right away.” He had given in relatively easy – but after all a prank that left students sneezing didn't sound that bad. Minor inconvenience, at least. It would weigh less on his conscious – and besides it was a Saturday. It wasn't even likely to interrupt with anything major. But no matter what, they would be waiting for James...and Peter as well. It just wouldn't be traditional if they didn't.
“It could be – or maybe this is the day she gives in to...whatever it is he thinks she'll give in to.” He had about as much hope of that happening as someone managing to teach the squid to play chess, but there was certainly stranger things to have happened. Lily was a perfectly nice girl, too, so James could be chasing worse.
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Post by siriusblack on Jul 31, 2012 13:05:14 GMT -5
"Mate, it would be absolutely worth the odd study session to see that behavior from you. I'll happily pick up the odd book if you pick up the odd girl." Sirius knew Remus would never abandon his routine, but he did like to encourage a more relaxed approach in his friend. They'd barely started the year for goodness sake, unless a girl or a prank was involved the library should be well off limits for weeks.
"Don't be fooled by my highly vocal fan group," Sirius continued, nodding over his friend's shoulder and treating them to another wink-grin winning combination. They were still transfixed and this drew another string of giddy giggles, demonstrating his point. "That's just one niche of the audience I've been cursed with. You my friend attract the difficult, shy area of the market," he explained knowingly between bites of breakfast. Sirius firmly believed his ramblings. "Not a bad thing," he added, again chewing mid-sentence, "It's always the quite ones, after all. Plus you don't have to put up with too much of that." He nodded again towards the girls, lightly more subtly this time as he was already regretting acknowledging them a second time. It really was a curse.
Since Remus had agreed to the fairly innocent hex he'd suggested, Sirius wondered if it was time to admit he had slightly underplayed the magic he had concocted. Over the summers he had spent at home, Sirius had often been left out of meals and denied food by his family. He had very little money and tended to frequent a muggle cafe in which a waitress had taken a liking to him. Otherwise, he was at times left with rotten old food. He once devised a spell to mask the look and taste to be pleasant, but it still made him ill afterwards. Sirius later perfected the spell, but he had also devised a hex to both turn food into dangerously poor quality with a deceptively attractive taste. The result might just be sneezing, but it would probably be more serious than that. Not life threatening. Enough to cause the hospital wing over crowding.
"What if we were to use something stronger..?" he started, innocently and lacking eye contact. In his defence, his good friend should know better than to trust him by now.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2012 9:27:33 GMT -5
Since their second year at Hogwarts when James had made the Quidditch team, the four Gryffindor boys who shared the dorm had a certain order of rising. Habitually, Remus was awake first because he was both a morning-person and a keener. Next was usually James who, regardless of a scheduled practice or not, insisted on flying a lap or two around the quidditch pitch in the early morning breeze. Third came Sirius who would rouse himself sometime between nine o'clock and noon, depending on how late he'd been out the night before. Peter always woke last; he much preferred the afternoons to mornings anyway. Ever since they'd been about twelve this had been the order of happenings, so when Prongs woke up to find both Sirius and Remus' beds empty he was highly confused.
As quidditch captain he didn't have time to ponder those things. He'd already slept in more than he'd been anticipating and he had a practice to run. Running to the bathroom and quickly brushing his teeth and splashing cold water on his face, James looked at his dishevelled, clearly-just-woke-up appearance and decided that it was good enough for quidditch practice. Careful not to rouse a still snoring Peter, James changed into his robes, grabbed his broom and hastened from the dormitory. The common room wasn't too crowded, the regular crowd of early risers who had been kept in by the rain were lounging about, but otherwise, most students weren't up yet. Of course, if they didn't have commitments (such as quidditch), sleeping was probably a reasonable thing to do.
England is a notoriously rainy country. Anyone who has ever lived there will confirm it. James Potter, who had lived in England his whole life, swore that it always rained the worst on days where he booked the quidditch pitch. Standing in the change rooms with the rest of the groggy, sleep-deprived Gryffindor team, he cursed the bad weather. Practice had been pushed back almost a full ten minutes and James was less than thrilled about it. When the downpour let up enough to no longer threaten drowning James hastened all of the reluctant students out of the comfort of the warm tent and into to icy cold storm.
The particular broom James rode was the newest nimbus model and it was the marauder's pride and joy. Few things even held a candle to the affection he felt for that broom, and when he took off on it, he swore that nothing could compare. Whizzing around the pitch with the rest of his crimson and gold clad teammates for warm-up, he hardly felt the rain that pelted his face. Evidently, some of the others didn't quite feel the same way, because he'd hardly run three plays when one of the chasers, a scrawny third year piped up that she was cold. The remaining team members chorused that agreed and that none of the other teams ever had to practice in this weather. It was absolutely ridiculous. Gryffindor was a winning team, and to live up to those expectations, they had to behave and practice like a winning team. "I'm not cold," he shrugged and kept on explaining plays. The beginning of the year was hard enough on the team without them dropping practices. Rosenfeld, their former seeker, had graduated last year and they were now left very much seekerless. This meant that he would have to hold tryouts and he hated holding tryouts. Trying to find a beater last year had been nearly impossible. Even though he specified that the team only wanted second to seventh year Gryffindors, there were inevitably three or four Hufflepuff first years who would show up eagerly with their brooms. The worst was that sometimes they were the better players. From past experience, he was of the opinion that their new seeker would be weak and therefore the team had to be stronger than ever. James' philosophy might've been a pinch different than that of some of his teammates.
By the time James had to let the team go, they were all soaked to bone. Most of them didn't even bother to shower seeing as the trek from the pitch to to the school would just see them once again caught in the torrential downpour. Filch nearly had a heart-attack when the whole water-logged and mud-covered Gryffindor team trudged into the school. During his time at Hogwarts there were very few times that James had ever seen their uptight caretaker at a loss for words, but at this point all he could utter were squeaks and growls of disapproval. Most of the team returned to their dormitories to tidy up before breakfast, but James' stomach always took precedence, so covered in mud and in an absolutely foul mood about their practice being cut short because of uncooperative weather he plodded into the Great Hall. Instinctively he marched over to where he and his mates usually sat and plopped down beside the two boys. Remus looked mildly amused and Sirius was grinning, usually a sure sign that the latter had caused, or planned to cause mischief. James simply couldn't concern himself with this, he was still too upset over the lost time on the pitch. "I hate England," he complained nearly as soon as he had taken a seat. Then, as an afterthought, he greeted his friends with an almost chipper: "Morning Moony, morning Padfoot." He proceeded to pile bacon onto his plate because nothing works up an appetite more than quidditch.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 2, 2012 21:04:03 GMT -5
He hadn't even realized how close his words had sounded to making an actual bet with Padfoot until they were repeated back to him. For a moment, he debated with himself that it would even be that bad of an idea. Could he manage a week out of his usual habits just for the novelty of seeing Sirius work for something for a change? Picking up 'the odd girl' seemed like a very crass way of putting things. Remus wasn't a romantic, but he wasn't one of his mates either. The problem was, Sirius treated most of 'his' girls as Remus treated his books – usually on loan, due back within a week, so best to digest them fast. He couldn't do the same thing, no matter what the wager was.
“Of course I'd always attract the difficult...” He knew quite well that there was a totally different group of girl. He knew plenty of shy girls, quieter girls, girls who frequented the tables in the library as much as he did. Not to say he wasn't interested, but...he was never comfortable with that sort of thing. Sirius could find a girl in this school who was in to scrawny, pale dark creatures with a thing for literature and an insatiable desire that involved simply starring at one another for hours on end and still he'd been unlike to find any sort of comfort in that sort of attention. “I have no idea what you mean by quite ones – and no thank you I don't want to know what you mean. Seeing as it's you that's coming from I suspect I'd rather not know. But...I don't know...we'll kept that idea as an option if you keep badgering me like last year.” He tried to catch a glimpse of the girls at the opposite table out of the corner of his eye, noting that, far from disappearing, they seemed to have grown in number – a small cluster of fawning, dew-eyed girls that just...honestly, wasn't fair.
Worrying about girls or what to do with them shouldn't have been at the forefront of his mind, thought. There was the other issue – that of a Sirius-planned prank that he had agreed too, though hoped to waylay until another of their band arrived and he could possibly petition to make sure their fellow Marauder stayed in line. With a slightly sinking heart, he realized that, once again, he probably should have been more suspicious of such a seemingly 'simplistic' idea coming from the astounding, almost criminal genius of the former Black heir. “What exactly do you mean, 'something stronger'...” His guard rose ever so slightly, but he was saved from any elaboration by the arrival of a dripping James, who looked like he'd been having some sort of secret rendezvous with the Giant Squid, not Evans.
“How patriotic of you.” He commented. Quidditch season. Right. Neither rain nor sleet nor dark of night would keep an insane sportsman like James off his pitch. More than ever he was glad he hadn't any sort of knack for athletics. He frowned slightly at the second time today his nickname was used in public, but didn't say anything. Why fight a losing battle. “Near drowning yourself works up an appetite, I see. Where's the rest of the team.” As far as Remus could see, there were no other Gryffindors walking into the great hall who looked like they'd come fresh from the lake. “You didn't kill any of them, did you? Season's just begun.”
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Post by siriusblack on Aug 3, 2012 13:06:20 GMT -5
"I am merely looking out for your best interests," Sirius responded, defensively. It was true that Remus often seemed more on edge then the average care free student. Understandably so, of course, but Sirius felt it was one of his duties to soften his friend's approach to life, even if he had to do so forcibly.
Sirius caught his friends glance and grinned. It was a highly comical sight for him, particularly for some reason at this time in the morning, to see such blatant fixation. "Once again, not always a bad thing to attract a quieter and frankly less scary fan base," he reiterated, in the firm belief that not many would put up with it. His ego certainly entertained the attention but it wasn't always worth having the odd obsessed stalker and or constantly avoiding love potion-drugging attempts. "Nah mate you're better off. Doesn't mean all those girls you're seeing in the library are there by chance. I guarantee several time their visits to your schedule."
Before he had to explain his intentions, James joined them. This only worsened the situation one table across. If there was any ground Sirius hadn't yet covered amongst the blushing ladies, his star-Quidditch-player best mate had swept in to rectify that. Covered in mud and piss wet through, James clearly still had his own loyal fan base.
"Ah, Prongs," Sirius began as their friend joined them. He used a triangle cut of toast to gesture as he spoke, "You'll support me on this. Is it unethical to poison the lesser quarter of our peers for the purposes of magical innovation?" Sirius posed the question in a rather bias way but his audience was equally one minded.
It was only after Remus made a point of it did he think to comment on the state of his friend. Judging by his confession of bitter dislike towards his home country, Sirius could only assume the weather had once again got one over on the inhabitants of Great Britain. Sirius often wondered why anyone had ever settled here in the first place. It usually had to be pretty dire to stop practice though, he couldn't imagine that James had resigned willingly.
"How's this years team looking? Not afraid of a casual storm are they?"
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Post by Deleted on Aug 26, 2012 22:29:41 GMT -5
James frowned into his plate, adding even more bacon to the ever growing pile accumulating there. Being both frustrated by the shortened length of his quidditch practice and the lack of food in his stomach, he glared at the eggs as though they'd deeply offended him. Honestly, the only thing the eggs had done wrong was that they hadn't yet made their way into James' stomach. He loved scrambled eggs too; they definitely didn't deserve the crossness he was giving them. Honest, this was more directed at his lack of a seeker this season. Rosenfeld had graduated last year, leaving the trouble-making fifth year a first time captain with no seeker. Everyone knew that tryouts were awful too. Last year, he'd been asked to help out when they were looking for a replacement keeper. Being nice, James would have said that they were all rubbish and didn't have an athletic bone in their bodies. Even the boy they picked was mediocre at best. With some training he'd improved enough to be acceptable on his house team. Unfortunately, he'd had to resign himself to the fact that there was no way he would find a seeker who was up to his standards.
Fortunately, however, James' practices were intense and high energy. Over the summer he'd begun a rigorous schedule that started with on the ground training, segued into flying drills, then to plays, and ended with sprints on the ground. These were the sorts of practices made to build a winning team from the scraps Gryffindor had managed to collect. Not to say they had no talent, James had enough ability for the entire, team. Fair enough, the others weren't completely rubbish. The whiny third year girl was a fantastic flyer and she had impressive aim (not a very tough skin, but you can't have everything). The two beaters weren't very accurate, but they worked hard, so James was certain he could whip them into something reasonably capable before their first match. As for the rest of the team, they were perfectly unexceptional. He reckoned that this was because they'd been going soft over the summer. A few good practices was really all it took to get them back into shape. Well, maybe more than a few: first practice that third year girl had thrown up the entire contents of her stomach afterwards. Weakness leaving the body, he'd told himself, resolved not to feel bad about it.
Now, sitting at the table in the great hall, sopping wet and very hungry, the Quidditch cup seemed pretty far off. Much as he loved Sirius and Remus, they could be so thick about the importance of the wizard sport sometimes. He was utterly melancholic over the loss of their practice space and Padfoot was waving around his toast as though it were a bloody flag. "They'll be in soon," he sighed, referring to his teammates, "Don't reckon anyone got sick this time. They complained me off the pitch." can't handle rain, don't play quidditch, he added to himself as he shovelled a forkful of eggs, sausages and what may have been mayonnaise into his mouth. "Pass the pumpkin juice, would ya' Moony?" he asked as politely as he possibly could through a mouthful of food. Mayo mixed with all of the other breakfast foods simply doesn't taste as good and he sort of wanted to rise the taste from his mouth.
Sirius and his toast brandishing did have a point to make, poisoning lesser students. "Slytherins, right?" he confirmed. Of course it was the Slytherins. Merlin, no one was "lesser" than them. Perhaps the Hufflepuffs were easier to pick on, but you didn't have to deal with the guilt factor when it came to those snakes; generally, they deserved what they got. "And I'd say so. So long as it's not the we'll-go-to-Azkaban-for-this type of poisoning." he shrugged at his best mate, managing to crack a grin despite the rotten mood a shorten practice had put him in. Though maybe not the nicest of pastimes, it was easily one of his favourites: jokes at the expenses of his fellow classmates, that is. Once in fourth year, he and Padfoot had successfully flooded the dungeons. Not only could no one go to potions, but the Slytherins couldn't get out of their common room. The memory alone was enough to spread a smile across his face. As he spooned porridge (which he'd never liked, he was just hungry) directly from the pot into his mouth he motioned for Sirius to elaborate. "Go on then, mate. How's it gonna work this time?"
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Post by Deleted on Oct 15, 2012 19:02:29 GMT -5
Remus was quite glad he didn't have even the slightest inkling for athletics – he had a feeling that if he and James had ever been forced to cross paths on the Quidditch pitch one of them would have ended up severely maimed long ago. And, given that his odds in that sort of venture were piss-poor at best, well...it was just best for the both of them. Let James have his sport – he'd pity the sorry bastards under his tyranny from the stands and pray to the powers that be that they picked up the season with at least a few good games. He didn't want to think about the likely messy murder-suicide to come from a bad one.
“That's absolutely disgusting.” He commented mildly as he dutifully handed over the jug of cloudy orange liquid to his bespectacled friend as she shoveled in food whether it was on his plate or not. He refrained from reminding him that the porridge was supposedly for everyone, and simply reached across for another roll. “Well, if anyone's going to whip them into shape, it'll be you James. Just...refrain from literally whipping them or something ridiculous – parents'll likely complain. And can we not refer to this plan of yours as a mass poisoning? It's sounding more sinister by the minute. Even if they are the Slytherins, it's only the start of the year. Let's not start off the second week already in the negatives...”
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Post by siriusblack on Oct 16, 2012 12:42:42 GMT -5
Sirius stayed out of competitive Quidditch. He wasn’t bad at it. On the contrary, he had grown up playing it and he certainly had enough energy to knock about some bludgers for a few hours. But the idea of committing to those early practices repelled him somewhat. A bunch of soft fresh meat crying themselves out of practice simply justified his decision in his own mind. Besides, he was happy enough watching the matches and keeping up with the league. “You need to be harsher,” he suggested, “Scare them until the alternative is worse than a bit of rain.” If it was up to him they’d be bludger targets.
“I’m merely calling it what it is, friend – if you want to make it more sinister, I’m very much open to suggestions. What were you thinking - arsenic?” he quipped, analysing the worried expression on Remus’ face and wondering just what he thought of him. Sirius was hardly going to murder a good fraction of the school. If he were, he would at least refrain from discussing it in broad daylight, in a room full of witnesses, over breakfast. Food poisoning wasn’t .. real poisoning. If those slimey bastards couldn’t handle a tummy bug they were more inferior than he had thought. “It’s just a bit of joke, not my problem if they don’t see the funny side.” He shrugged, taking another mouthful of the large creation that was his breakfast butty.
With the invitation from James to elaborate, Sirius launched into his plot – explaining the key jobs of elf distraction, food hexing as though they were that simple. “Basically, food goes foul, still looks amazing, greedy bastards get sick. Thoughts?”
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