Records of Injustice,

Today I record a gross negligence on the part of formally revered and immeasurably trusted, Sirius Black. He, in cahoots with my son - my own flesh and blood! - abandoned me to the vipers nest, knowingly leaving my persons in grave physical and emotional danger. It is by purely chance I survived as I did.

After a daring attack upon the ruthless Slytherins, my escape was circumvented by the crafty labyryith devised by the enemy for just such an occasion. Normally, I would never fall prey to such folly, but a natural paternal instinct warned me that my son - the very same that would so soon betray me - was in need of my assistance. In my haste, I made a nearly fatal error.

Trapped in an oubliette, I stayed stoically awaiting whatever help may find me, alone and unarmed. Immeasurable time passed before I heard signs of movement outside my torment. Stealthily, I conveyed our secret password through the walls. Almost immediately, they responded. My spirit rose at my rescue, but then, oh cruel fate, they turned against me. they informed the snakes of my whereabouts and left.

My enemies left me there for time upon time, without food or water. Desperately, I searched my prison for any tools to free myself. After hours of searching, I found a passage, but so ravenous were the beasts inside that in my unarmed state escape would be impossible. (No matter what anyone says, there was not a second door in the back of the storage closet, and I didn't scream like a little girl over a pair of bats. There were at least five.)

My trial seemed endless as the black stretched on for an eternity. Then, low and behold, my trusty weapon returned to me! With one fell blast, I freed myself from my captivity! Now, alone in the world, I strive for vengence against those who betrayed my trust.

(I have a bruise on my ass where I sat on my wand. I'm sure there had to be a far less painful way to find it. Besides, why didn't I hear it fall when I first locked myself in the closet? It had to have been magic. There's no way I sat on that floor for hours and my arse missed it that many times.)

Account of King James,
Illustrious Ruler of All.

P.S. - Sirius, I WILL find Peter's old underwear. Old and moldy. Probably brown in disgusting places, too.

P.P.S. - If I can't, I'll steal Snivellus'!

P.P.P.S. - Or HAGRID'S!

mood: predatory music: Bamboogie tags: diary, james potter

Dear Wad of Paper Lilly-kin gave Me for 'Theraputic Purposes' When I'd Really Just Prefer Reviving the 'Pantsing Snivellus' Club -

Don't you dare tell her I said that. She's off kilter enough about this being dead and not being dead stuff that if I whisper one word against her preciously reformed Snape, she'll probably run away with his old greasiness and make babies. Eeeew, Grease babies. Oh MERLIN! Greasy LILY babies! Have I mentioned how eternally grateful I am to have her? Very, very, grateful. Eternally. Speaking of babies - Jesus, Harry's fat. Apparently, Jesus is a very important muggle baby. They use his name for swearing. I heard a few in the halls go about it. Funny kids these days.

Anyway, fat Harry. Not like, rolly polly, but he's hardly the twenty pounds I left him as. He's like.... quandrapiplted, or whatever. Much much, fatter than when I died. Dying is so damn inconvient. I don't think I'm going to do it again, any time soon.

Maybe I could ask Snivellus if I could make him little some way. Little, and gurgly, and puking on my shirt. Ya know, babies are oddly adorable while they puke. Sirius, though, is not. I should mention that to him, again. Haven't seen him drunk yet, but it's Pads, and he's a creature of habit.

Merlin, I want... I want... Damn wad of paper, tell me what I want! You're SUPPOSED to be therapeutic! ... Lily LIED.

Deep breath, James Potter. Think of this as a transfigurations test. After all, giant transforming cat lady WAS the one who asked. What DO I plan to do with myself? BEFORE, I'd planned to be a calm, gentlemenly, fellow and take care of my lovely little wife and bouncing baby while stabbing evil in the eye with a spoon. As it is, I become a far too calm fellow who died with his pretty little wife and left my bouncing baby while stabbing evil up the nose with my wand as I landed on the floor. Not particularly something you want to brag about, but effective for the most part.

Now? I have my pretty little wife, my bouncing baby is taller than I am, evil is still afoot like a yippy puppy in need of a kick, but really? Not a huge problem. So, with me and my pretty wife, what can I do with myself? What did I do before that I can still do? Uh...

Make... Babies?

Babies.

Yes, actually, that sounds rather wonderful. Let see. If I say -

'Lily, let's have a baby.'

She'll say -

"We've already done that."

and I can say -

"But I want one."

And she'll say -

"Then you can get fat and pop it out your ass."

Hmm... I need to work on that.

Wait... HOLY CRAP! Am I the only one to realize people with baby girls don't die horrible deaths? At least, not very often in ratio to those with boys.

Lily and I - dead

Remus and Nymphy - dead

Frank and Alice - positively crackers, so close enough.

Then look at -

Weasleys - Alive

... Uh

Other people...

Oh! That odd little chit, what's her name...

LOVEGOOD! - Aliveish, I think.

Patils - Still kicking, to my knowledge...

Actually, this theory isn't well thought out, is it?

This has been very, very theraputic in that way of absolutely not. But, at least I know I want a baby.

-

The Dashing Mr. Potter

tags: diary