CHARACTERNAMEHERE
DO YOU WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THE,
DEAL THAT I'M MAKING?



»» lyrics here , quotes , random nonsense.

I'D MAKE A DEAL WITH GOD,
GET HIM TO SWAP OUR PLACES
----»» OOC SHIZZ .

----»» YOUR NAME: Spider
----»» AGE: 21+, and you won’t get me being more specific than that.
----»» GENDER: Female
----»» CONTACT INFORMATION: PMs work just fine
----»» HOW YOU FOUND US: Pax on Neopets.
----»» DID YOU READ THE RULES: I did! Twice!
----»» ANYTHING ELSE?: I’ve never played this sort of game before, where it’s broken up by settings instead of chronological threads. I hope I don’t mess things up.
----»» RP SAMPLE:

COME ON BABY, COME ON DARLING,
LET ME STEAL THIS MOMENT
----»» BASIC INFORMATION .

----»» FULL NAME: Sirius Canopus Black.

Sirius, after the dog star, meaning ‘searing’ or ‘scorching,’ and Canopus, after the second brightest star in the sky. Also Canopus after a great-great uncle or aunt, but my family never was clear on the gender. What can I say. My family has a thing for stars, and as the first male of this generation, they wanted to give me a double-helping of bright and shiny star names.

Black just means black. It is the color of the souls of most of my family, as well as the color of my hair. Which is amazing. My hair, not my family.
----»» NICKNAMES: Mr. Padfoot, Padfoot, Pads, Siri, Dog Breath, and thousands of various cutesy names from whoever I’m dating at the moment. If I’m not dating you and you use one of those, I will not be happy.
----»» AGE: Seventeen. Or eighteen. Depends on the month.
----»» HOUSE: GRYFFINDOR!
----»» GENDER: 100% male. Even the hair.
----»» BLOOD: I have to say pureblood, don’t I? But I’m a cool pureblood, like Jamie, and not an evil pureblood, like those who revel in the Black name.
----»» ALLEGIANCE: James’ side. Whatever side he’s on. Unless he sides with my family. We might need to have a sit-down if that happens, talk things over a bit. Right now, I’m pretty sure we’re siding with Dumbledore and the Order.
----»» WAND: Eleven inches, ebony, unicorn hair. It’s as long as I am. I’ll let you check if you don’t believe me.
----»» SEXUALITY: Bisexual. Why limit yourself?
----»» CANON/ORIGINAL: Canon

OH COME ON ANGEL, COME ON,
LET'S EXCHANGE THE EXPERIENCE
----»» PERSONA .

----»» LIKES:
• James, Remus, and Peter.
• Sex (see, I like my friends more!)
• Mischief, especially when aimed at evil purebloods
• Quidditch. Flying in general. Being off the ground and away from it all. Heights, I guess. Astronomy Tower isn’t too bad, either.
• Being an Animagus. As a fifth year. Boo-ya!
• My family, what’s left of them (Andromeda, Ted, and baby Dora. And Uncle Alphard, may he rest in peace. And I guess James’ parents. They’re like foster parents, really, after all they’ve done for me. It’s not easy keeping me fed during summer break.)
• Transfiguration. Even if I never pay attention, Minnie, that doesn’t mean I don’t like it!
• Salads with Italian dressing. Especially if it’s a special family recipe dressing. Yummy!
• Talking with Dumbledore. Because he gets it. Mostly.
• Regulus. But not really. I don’t LIKE him. I just… it’s complicated. Stupid git.
----»» DISLIKES:
• My family.
• My fam-oh, wait, we can’t put things twice? Okay… hateful, blood-obsessed, thick-skulled, moronic, inbred, can’t-see-past-pedigree purebloods.
• Lord Voldemort and the fear that he’s wrapping around everyplace. And the hateful, blood-obsessed, thick-skulled, moronic, inbreed, can’t-see-past-pedigree, arse-kissing purebloods that follow him.
• Being ignored.
• Being helpless. Or restrained. Or both.
• Purple. I don’t like the color. Sorry. Especially sorry to all you lovely purple-eyed ladies who keep trying to get my attention. I think it’s ugly. I also dislike violet and plum and any other fancy name that means purple.
• The moon. It hurts one of my friends, every month, without fail. I do not like it, no I don’t.
• Hangovers. I’m a wizard, I should be able to stop those. Pity I never remember until after I’ve begun experiencing it.
• Mornings. If I’m ever Minister of Magic, I will outlaw mornings.
• Slughorn. Because he’s cool, but obsessed with people like my family, and he’s an arse-kisser. But he’s cool if you need potions ingredients for an experiment, if you ask him right.
----»» QUIRKS & HABITS:
• Hmm… let’s see. I have a habit of playing with my hair when I’m thinking. And I tie it back really tight if I’m about to go pranking or flying.
• I growl a lot. Even before I became Padfoot, I growled when I was upset.
• I am prone to violence. I’m sorry, but if you’re annoying me, I will throw something at you. Probably nothing more than a quill, though, and the proper thing to do is to laugh when it goes all loopy and floaty because it’s a quill and not a parchment plane or something.
• Along those lines, I go berserk if I get pissed off enough. It’s not something I’m proud of. Usually, I’ll get angry, and then it’ll snap and BAM, I’m like some sort of Celtic blue-painted warrior (without the blue) and I’m blasting you to smithereens or saying things I shouldn’t be. And if you stick around, and James or one of the other Marauders doesn’t try to stop me, you will probably die. And then I’ll really be sorry. But not because you’re dead.
• If there is a window in my bedroom, I must sleep next to it. I must have the closest bed to it. Failing that, I must sleep farthest from the door. I don’t care if we’re in Gryffindor Tower and the window is fifty billion feet up while the door leads to a staircase that leads to a comfortable common room… Window. Is. Mine.
• If I want something, I will not hesitate to pull out the puppy dog eyes. I am not ashamed of the puppy dog eyes. The puppy dog eyes are the most bestest secret weapon in the world. Even my friends are not completely immune to the puppy dog eyes. They might think they are, but then WHY DO THEY GIVE IN STILL?
• I use first names or nicknames when referring to people, unless I hate them. The person. Sometimes the name. I hate my own surname, so I don’t want to assume that everyone is happy with their surname.
• I must have coffee within an hour of waking up, or I will be Mister Crankypants all day. Even if I have coffee two hours after, it doesn’t matter, Mister Crankypants will not go away. Unless I go back to sleep for more than two hours. Tea instead of coffee will tone down Mister Crankypants but will not scare him away.
• I sing in the shower. I do not sing badly, no matter what the other Marauders say. I have been classically trained, and while I know I’m not the BEST singer in the world, no way am I off-key. I might be too loud for them, though.
• I hate chocolate frogs. I think they’re gross. But I love the cards. My set’s almost complete. Now that I’ve met Remus, I can buy tons of frogs and give him the frogs and keep the cards.
• I love chocolate, even though I hate chocolate frogs. Go figure.
----»» BOGGART: My friends—James, Remus, and Peter—dead. Mostly James. Do I have to say why? Really?

I don’t want to be alone. Ever. With my parents… well, they gave me a really good idea of what could happen to one solitary wizard. And they’re pretty much not there for me anymore. The Tonkses… they can’t be there for me. I mean, Andromeda and Ted have a baby daughter. They can’t be parents for me. I’m seventeen, for fuck’s sake. I’ve got my friends, and no one else, really. James is… he’s always caught me, every time I fell. Every single time. And if he died… I don’t know. I just don’t. And Remus and Peter are more of the same. They’re my friends. They’re all I’ve got.
----»» PATRONUS: My Patronus form is… uh… kinda embarrassing. Kinda really embarrassing. It’s James’ mother. No weapons, not even a frying pan or a wand or a fly swatter. Not surprising, though, I guess, since my happy memory I use to conjure her up is the very first time I ran away from home, second year, during a break, and I ran to the Potters and hoped they wouldn’t turn me away, and she gave me a big hug and everything was going to be all right. Sheesh, you ask embarrassing questions!
----»» DEMENTOR: Running away from home for the last time. Having enough of my pureblood family. The last, final straw. The end. What they did… I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it. I can’t.

(this part should get fleshed out a lot more after I confer with other members of Sirius’ family.)
----»» MIRROR OF ERISED: I see my family. Mother and Father and Reggie. And they’re all happy. With me. They’re happy with me and proud of me and they’re glad I’m a Gryffindor and… this mirror can’t show what’s real.
----»» AMORTENTIA: I love… coffee. And sunshine after a rain. That does too have a smell! And the silver-red of our pack on a full moon, and used cat litter, and Christmas dinners. I love the smell of burning leaves and sweat after a quidditch game, and my pillow at Hogwarts and James’ mum’s jumper. And cookies baking, and clouds, especially when they’re so cold your nose freezes and that’s how you know you’re just about to go too high, and wet fur, and cedar.
----»» SECRETS:
I want to be loved. More than anything else in the world. I want to find my The One person, and I want that perfect first kiss (with The One) and that happily ever after. And that’s why I’m dating all of Hogwarts. I want to find The One. She (or he, I’m not picky, really, just give me someone who loves me!) has to be here. Somewhere. Right?

I could have been a Slytherin. The Hat said I’d be amazing as a Slytherin. It told me that in the Slytherin House, I would find my destiny and would become powerful beyond anyone’s imagining, that my name would be known in all wizarding houses throughout the country, that I would be surrounded by so many who would never betray me. And I almost said yes. Almost. But then I asked if the Hat was giving me a choice and it said that if I chose Gryffindor, I’d be in for one bumpy ride, but I’d never find truer friends or warmer love. And I said yes to that. But I’m still looking for that warmer love. Unless it meant James’ mother…

Hurt me, and I don’t mind so much. Really. Hurt my friends, and you’re dead, but I won’t take it so badly if you hurt me. Despite that, though, there’s one insult that always hurts me. Blood-traitor. I’m not a traitor. I don’t do traitor. I don’t like being called a traitor, even if it’s to the blood that I hate. I’m not a traitor.
----»» STRENGTHS:
• Loyalty. Once you have my loyalty, you’ll be hard-pressed to shake me off. I would do just about anything for my friends. Just about anything…
• Exams. Without studying, with only doing the bare minimum of homework, I can walk into any exam and get excellent marks. Not flawless marks, but enough to keep me comfortably at or near the top of the class. I don’t fully understand these magical test-taking abilities, but I never question them. I don’t want to lose them! I have learned that studying makes me do worse than I usually do. Again, I don’t understand it.
• Magic in general. If it’s magical, I can do it. It might take a couple tries, but I’ll figure it out and master it. Bam. Pow. Woosh. I love magic. It loves me.
• Pranking. I’m not second-in-command of the Marauders for nothing! Without me, the Marauders wouldn’t be able to pull off half the stuff they do. Without me, the animagi transformations never would have happened either. Nope, they need me, because I’m a Prankster Prince.
• Looks. I don’t mean to be vain, but I’m gorgeous. I can’t help it. The Black family does care about looks, so prospective partners are chosen with genetics in mind. Every generation has been prettier than the last, far as I can tell from family portraits. I’ve got some good genetic stock in me, far as appearances go. Just ask anyone in the school, as long as they aren’t adorned in silver and green (but even they should agree).
• Stubbornness. Unless it’s another Marauder telling me to drop it, I don’t like giving up on things. Even if you think I drop something, I’ll come back to it. I’ll surprise you, in a week, a month, a year… I won’t give up. Unless James or Remus or Peter really want me to.
• Stealth. I am the quietest Marauder. Even when I’m human, I’m almost impossible to hear sneaking. Comes from growing up with house elves. I’m not Mr. Padfoot just because I turn into a dog, you know!
----»» WEAKNESSES:
• Belly rubs. God. Give me a belly rub (while I’m Padfoot!) and I will love you. Give me a good belly rub, and you will become my belly rub slave. I wish I could find words to explain how orgasmic without being sexual a belly rub can be. James and Peter don’t seem to get the same effect, though. Moony probably would, but I’m not so stupid as to belly rub a werewolf on a full moon. Even if he’d love it.
• My friends. If I can do something, anything, to help my friends, I will. Even if I don’t really want to do it (like back down from a fight with Snivvy because you’re scowling at me), I’ll do it, without complaint. Because you’re my friends. And I love you.
• My ankles. No, seriously, they’re a weakness. Seriously. Hit me with any spell there, and I’ll crumple. Even if it’s not supposed to do that. Seriously. (okay, not seriously.)
• Blind loyalty. Sometimes, I’m too loyal. Sometimes, I screw up when I’m trying to protect you. Sometimes I follow you to my own doom, or I make yours when I’m just trying to help. Sometimes, I get really stupid about making you happy.
• Rage. I snap, and when I snap, I go berserk. And it’s scary. For me. Scary for people watching, but scary for me too, because it’s… well, I kinda imagine it’s like being a werewolf, where I’m, my mind, that is, I’m just along for the ride, and my body is being run by desires and thoughts that aren’t my own. I can’t stop myself when I’m berserk. It doesn’t happen often, though, and it hasn’t happened at all since I left my family. Touch wood.
• Sex. Yeah, I like it. Lots. Who doesn’t? Wanna have hot, random, meaningless sex? I’m game. Let’s go.
----»» GOALS:
• To find The One
• Figure out what I want to do with my life
• Become Minister of Magic accidentally.
• Outlaw mornings. And Mondays. After becoming Minister of Magic accidentally.
• Cure Lycanthropy
• Defeat (or assist in the defeat of) Voldemort. They have until I graduate before I show them how it’s done.
----»» FEARS:
• Death of my friends.
• My family gets their hands on me again. For good.
• James dumps me for Lily.
• I do something really stupid and lose all of them but not because they die. Because I’m stupid. So they leave me behind.
• Being alone.
• Being locked up.
• Being buried alive
• Don’t find The One.
• Find The One and The One dies. Or leaves me.
----»» OVERALL PERSONALITY:
I wear masks, all the time. Around everyone. Almost everyone. The Marauders have seen me without my masks. Dumbledore has seen me without my masks. Pomfrey has seen me without them. Regulus may have seen me without them. I don’t know about him. I don’t know if he was sneaking around.

On the surface, I am a loyal Gryffindor. I’m loud and obnoxious, often annoying those who don’t know me (Ravenclaws especially), but I’m very good at grinning at the right time to make them, especially girls, swoon. I flirt with just about anything that moves, and I eat at every possible opportunity. I’m always grinning or laughing, and I’m always armed with a dungbomb or similar.

I don’t like Slytherins. Maybe it’s wrong of me to generalize, but Slytherin is the house that almost every blood-obsessed pureblood goes, where my entire family has been… and my family is evil. Slytherins have that evil in concentration. And the very few Slytherins who aren’t purebloods… bleeeh. By the time they get past their first year, they’ve pretty much been indoctrinated into the cult of blood-mania. So they’re all evil, and I don’t like evil. If they piss me off, I’ll fight back. And they can piss me off just by walking in front of me. Voldemort and his ‘Death Eaters’ are the same way. Bunch of loony purebloods, wearing masks and being evil. I’m not scared of them. I’m just pissed. I want my world to go back the way it was, thank you very much.

I think I’m a hopeless romantic, but that’s not exactly the best sort of reputation to have, so I hide it. But I really love a good romance story, and romantic gestures from my partner. But not overdone. Being buried by valentines or Christmas gifts from admirers is annoying, not romantic.

Around my friends, my close friends, I can be quiet and calm. I don’t know why. Their not having so many expectations, I guess, lets me stop grinning. I listen to my friends. I can talk to them about serious things. I like that. I like trusting them and having them there for me… but sometimes I can’t help but get clingy and scared. My family did that. I wasn’t scared when I was 11. I never thought they’d leave, but now… now, I just don’t know. I need them to stay. I can’t be alone.

I’m not an idiot. I’m loud and blunt and brash, and I’m almost never caught studying, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Look at my grades. I’m near the top of every class. Look at my pranks. They’re original, not just ‘chuck dungbombs and run.’ I’m an Animagus, for Pete’s sake! Did it in three years, without a mentor! No way am I a moron.

I’m athletic. I love quidditch, I love swimming, and running, and climbing. I’m trying to get a Hogwarts Castle Wall-Climbing group together, but no one’s interested. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that I meant to climb the castle’s walls.

I’m very doglike. Padfoot suits me. I love to run, play (fetch is amazing if I’m a dog, not so much fun if I’m a human), dig (into dirt if I’m a dog, into things said if I’m a human), bark (or laugh), and cuddle. Rub my ears and I’m yours. I get nightmares sometimes, and if that happens, I usually join James or Remus in bed, as Padfoot. At the foot of their bed, of course. I’m not just going to sneak in under their covers. They’re my friends. I wouldn’t do that to them. I don’t think they mind. They haven’t told me to stop, at least.

I’m very bad at doing what I’m told. James, Remus, and Peter, they’ve earned my respect, and thus, my obedience. But no one else. Not really. Pomfrey a little, cause she helps Remus after full moons, and I wouldn’t want to make him worse. And Dumbledore, because he’s amazing, and sometimes, when I talk to him… it’s like he understands. Everything. About me. And he knows. And it’s okay.

If there’s a god, I want him to be just like Dumbledore.

UNAWARE, I'M TEARING YOU ASUNDER,
THERE IS THUNDER IN OUR HEARTS
----»» APPEARANCES .

----»» PLAY-BY: Nicolas Bemberg. But with longer hair.
----»» DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: I’ve got no piercings, no tattoos. My body is perfect just the way it is, and no way in hell am I gonna mess it up. I do have some scars, though. Nothing really impressive, though. Nothing with a really interesting story, at least, or a funny shape.
----»» VOICE: Tenor. Not too low, certainly not to be mistaken for a girl. It cracked over the summer, too, couple years back.
----»» BODY TYPE: 5’11.75” and beginning a massive growth spurt. Since I’ve put on nearly two inches since the end of my sixth year and feel like my stomach has turned into a black hole of food consumption, I will probably never be the same height more than two days in a row. Unfortunately, this also means I’m forever lengthening my robes. I’m getting loads of practice. I’m really looking forward to being the tallest Marauder. At least I’m not shrimpy any more.

I am very solidly built. Years of being a Gryffindor Beater means I’m not a wispy little twig like so many of the guys in my classes. I’m not sculpted (yet… maybe when the war is over), but I’ve got broad shoulders and definite muscles. Especially in my arms and thighs. It’s hard work, flying a broomstick with your knees!
----»» OVERALL APPEARANCE: Hmm, let’s see… Tall, dark, and handsome? Yeah, that’s me. Except not so much the dark. Well, my hair’s dark, but my skin isn’t. I’m pale. Was sickly pale. Purebloodly pale. It’s been taking me years and years of staying in the sun, playing quidditch and stuff, until my skin retains a healthy-looking color even during winter. But I like it now. I’m nowhere near ‘tan,’ but I’m way far away from ‘vampire’ or ‘elitist pig.’

I’ve got the ideal face of the family. It’s scary how perfect it is. And this time, I don’t mean perfect like gorgeous (which it is), but perfect like Mother and Father sat down and figured out what their kids would look like if the best looks from both sides of the family joined up. And then they had me, and they knew everything would be perfect. But my god… I’ve got the traditional Black family nose and this one girl, Jo, said that my eyes are fathomless, which is fancy talk for grey and sparkly, as runs in the family (the Malfoys have it too. Apparently grey eyes is a pureblood turn-on). I managed to get my grandfather’s strong chin, even though Mother doesn’t have it, and I have the smaller Black ears, the non-protruding ones. That’s probably the only blight in the Black beauty line. Every now and then, someone’s kicked out with these wings stuck to their head. Lucky me, I dodged that bullet.

I love my hair. It’s black black black, so black it looks blue sometimes, like in the summer sun. And it’s always naturally perfect. That’s what I tell people, at least. Roll out of bed, run a brush through it, and it just falls into place, sexily hanging in my eyes and with just the right amount of wave in it. Hah. As if that perfection is natural. I mean, for hair, it’s pretty much perfect, but I do help it along with some styling products of my own devising, guaranteed to never turn my hair pink. It’s gotta be pretty durable stuff, because you know that whole wind-tousled look? Yeah, it doesn’t look so good when the wind actually gets a hold of your hair. And while my hair’s not the longest at Hogwarts (it’s only just around my shoulder blades!), it’s long enough to get wind-tousled the wrong way. And I keep messing with it, running my fingers through it and stuff. So my secret recipe gel makes sure my hair falls right back into place like those muggle hair commercials. And it’s soft. Soooo soft. I love my hair. I always make sure to tie it back if I’m going to do something messy, like pranking or potions or Care of Magical Creatures or flying.

I love my hair, but I’m not so picky about my clothes. I look good in anything. I’d look good in a burlap sack. I’ve got pictures to prove it (still need to burn those). At Hogwarts, it’s just black anyway, black robes, black jeans, and my favorite black dragonhide boots that go up to my knees. At least my feet aren’t growing anymore. I’d hate to not be able to wear them anymore. Dragonhide is amazing. And it protects my legs from the knees down from any unfriendly attacks. Stylish and functional (and bloody expensive)!

I like jeans. They’re sturdy and they keep you decent even if you get flipped by a stray Levicorpus or something, and they’re easier to run in than robes. But I grew up wearing robes and just robes, because that’s what elitist-arse purebloods do. I don’t really have that much of a muggle wardrobe, just a couple t-shirts, a handful of jeans, and some jumpers. I have some softer pants that I wear to bed, but I don’t like wearing shirts much. Not if I’m wearing a robe. Or in bed. But if I’m trying to pass as a muggle, I’ll wear shirts.

Black, red, and gold are my favorite colors to wear, and I hate that my family name is the same as my favorite color. Black is an awesome color. It is a sucky name.
----»» FEELINGS ON THEIR APPEARANCE: I love how I look. Being attractive makes life so much easier. I hate, though, how I look just like how my parents wanted me to look. And short of doing something drastic, like have Moony maul my face, I will always look just like how they wanted me to look. My face is part of the family legacy, and every time I look in a mirror, I will see what hundreds of years of carefully selected breeding was meant to produce. But only when I’m in a bad mood. If I’m in a good mood, I just see that I’m gorgeous. Siriusly gorgeous.

YOU DON'T WANT TO HURT ME,
SEE HOW DEEP THE BULLET LIES
----»» BURIED IN THE PAST .

----»» NATIONALITY: British
----»» BIRTHPLACE: 12 Grimmauld Place, London
----»» PARENTS: Walburga Black & Orion Black
----»» SIBLINGS: Regulus Arcturus Black (younger)
----»» OTHER FAMILY: The entire Black family and just about any pureblood alive is somehow related to me. The only family that counts is my cousin Andromeda, her husband Ted Tonks, and their daughter, Nymphadora. She loves me. Hurt her and die.
----»» PETS: One black eagle owl, Castor. Got him when I left home for the first time. We have a hate/hate relationship, but hey, what’s he gonna do if I set him free? He’d probably get offed for associating with a blood traitor, and it’s not his fault. He doesn’t understand blood traitorness, though, I don’t think, so he still delivers my mail and stuff. He’s always hated me, and I’ve always hated him, but hate for seven years, I guess, can turn into grudging acceptance.
----»» FULL HISTORY: I was born in November 1959, to Orion and Walburga Black, and I was perfect. I was everything they wanted in a child, from my bright grey eyes to my little nose to the ears that didn’t stick out to the dick between my legs. The first Black male of my generation. Sirius Canopus. They wanted me to shine so brightly.

My childhood was nothing too extraordinary. I went to Madame Cleo for tutoring before Hogwarts, to learn reading and writing and etiquette and singing and foreign languages and dancing and all the stuff a good pureblood wizard should know to be prepared for the true magical world. I got my wand when I was seven, and Mother and Father loved teaching me spells. I know, I know, no underage magic, but it’s not like the Ministry would know it was me casting the spells and not my parents.

I played a lot with my cousins. Andromeda was my favorite, even though she was older than me. Bellatrix was always scary. Narcissa was pretty weird too. But I always just figured that was because they were girls.

Regulus didn’t play much with us. He wasn’t allowed to. He was sick a lot. He wasn’t fun to play with, because he couldn’t run as fast or anything, but he was a lot more fun when he was in his bed. We’d play with toys or I’d read stories to him. I used to write my own stories. They were crap, but he seemed to like them.

When I was six, I was mad at my mother for something. We were in the Leaky Cauldron, after a day of shopping. I don’t even remember what it was anymore. I think she wouldn’t buy me the newest broomstick because I was just a child and didn’t need a full-sized racing broom. So I pulled away from her hand and ran out into the street. Except I ran the wrong way. Into the muggle street. And I got lost. When I realized that, and I couldn’t find my mother or the Leaky Cauldron, I looked for her. I ran all around central London, shouting ‘Mother!’ It must have looked so strange to the muggles. I was a little long-haired boy in a robe calling for my mother. I was also terrified, because muggles were supposed to be these brutish thugs and they’d hurt me if they ever caught me, so I wasn’t supposed to do anything with them.

One of them caught me. He was a boy a little younger than me, and he had a lollipop. It was red. He gave it to me and took me to see his mother, and she took me to the police. That was a headache for everyone, I’m sure. I knew exactly where my mother was (The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley) and exactly where I lived (Number 12 Grimmauld Place, with Mother and Father and Reggie!). Unfortunately, both those places had anti-Muggle spells on them, so the police couldn’t find either. They were getting frustrated and I was getting frustrated (and scared), but they were very nice and gave me orange juice and cookies and asked me questions about my family and pets and what books I liked to read and stuff, little things to keep me distracted.

It took hours for Mother and Father to find me. They looked in all the magical places before someone thought to look in the muggle places. Someone at the Ministry thought that. They used to care so much about me that they went to the Ministry of Magic when I ran off, and probably slipped enough gold into hands to find someone who cared and who would help. They’d probably laugh if I got lost among muggles now.

But I wouldn’t get lost among muggles now.

I did get scolded for running away, but that was the worst punishment I received before going to Hogwarts. I was their golden boy. Why on earth would they raise a hand against me?

But that incident changed me. Those muggles had been nice, all of them, from the boy who gave me his lollipop to the mother who took my hand, to the police who kept me entertained and fed while I waited. None of them were brutish thugs, and none of them tried to hurt me. It was the first time I realized that Mother and Father weren’t right about everything. They had always done such a good job keeping me sheltered… I never even realized…

I wanted to find out what they were wrong about, so I went to Diagon Alley a lot, and I kept staying at Flourish and Blotts. Every time Mother went, I went too, and I asked to just stay and read. She was fine with that, and after she’d leave to run errands, I’d go to the Muggle Studies sections and read everything I could get my hands on. It was hard at first, but as my vocabulary grew, so did the amount of books I could understand. And from Muggle Studies, I went to the next logical subject—blood purity.

By the time I headed to Hogwarts, my mind was reeling with all of the things I now knew about Muggles and intermarriage and mudbloods… and I didn’t like my family all that much anymore. I still loved Mother and Father and Regulus, but my family as a whole, the Black clan… they used mudblood even though it was a bad word, and hurt people who were different, and insisted on robes all the time… By the time I headed to Hogwarts, I knew that house elves who aspired to get their heads chopped off were not normal accessories in a wizarding house, nor was a tapestry with your entire family on it, with holes here and there were impure bits were blown out. And I was feeling a little shaky. I didn’t know what I could trust from my past. Was Slytherin really the house I wanted to be in? On the train, James Potter did a great job of selling Gryffindor, and I was debating Ravenclaw too. Hufflepuff’s a load of duffers, from everything I’ve heard, and it seemed like that was something my parents were right about.

The Hat said I’d be bored out of my mind in Ravenclaw, and it gave me a choice between Slytherin or Gryffindor. Choosing Gryffindor was probably the single hardest thing I’ve ever done. I must have been sitting on that stool forever, trying to work up the courage. But I did. And the Hat shouted out GRYFFINDOR and there was mostly silence. Everyone who knew what the Black name meant was silent. Even the teachers were silent. But then the Hat was off my eyes and the Gryffindor table started cheering and… I grinned. And whooped. And I became a Gryffindor.

My first year was the easiest. My parents were distraught, but they weren’t hateful. Not entirely. But as the year went on and I didn’t try to act on their letters encouraging me to ask to be resorted and I got mad at them for trying to make me a Slytherin, and I got madder at them for insulting my new friends, most of whom were not elitist purebloods… well, the whole family is a bunch of snakes. And their venom rose. I had to go home for every holiday. They wouldn’t let me stay. Any time I did, they’d Floo in and drag me home. The first time was embarrassing. After that, I went when they just threatened it.

Holidays were always horrible. They were doing everything they could to show me how wonderful it was to be a Black, but the more they pushed, the sicker I felt about everything. Didn’t they know what they were doing to non-purebloods? Couldn’t they see how pointless it was to wear robes? Wasn’t it obvious that being nothing more than your family name was a ridiculous way to live? And I’d try to point out the flaws in their thinking, and they’d get mad and point out my own flaws, and we’d get louder and louder, name-calling and insults and hexes… Christmas was the worst, when the whole family came over. “Gang up on the Gryffindork” was a favorite game.

They did get physically abusive. It took a while, a long, slow build up, but as it became more and more apparent that words wouldn’t shut me up, they’d turn to slaps. The first time Mother slapped me, I was shocked. I fled to my room and didn’t come out for the rest of the day. She’d never hit me before. None of my family had ever hit me. And it just got worse from there. I’d hang out in the hospital wing after full moons when Remus was recovering and ask Pomfrey to teach me some basic healing things, especially cures for bruises. Those spells came in handy during the holidays, and I’d always return to Hogwarts without a mark on my face and with a bright smile, happy to be reunited with my friends.

It was only too obvious, though, that something was wrong. I got angrier. So much angrier. I scared myself with my anger. I’d hurt people. When I did pranks, or picked on Slytherins… I’d try to hurt them. I took to drinking in my fourth year, and I spent most of the first months of my fifth almost always with a bottle of firewhiskey hidden in my robes. That wasn’t a fun time. I learned of my berserker rage at the end of my fourth year, and it kept showing up through my fifth. Early December, though, right before Christmas holidays, that was when things were the worst. Because I told Snape about the Willow. And I hurt my friends. I went home for Christmas that year with their hurt hanging over my head. I didn’t know if they’d ever forgive me. And then the family came over, and ‘Smash Sirius’ became the game of the month, and I… I just had it. I ran. Managed to take the Knight Bus to the Potters’, and Mrs. Potter just took one look at me and gave me a hug and said I didn’t have to go back.

I haven’t ever gone back. Last I heard, I was officially disowned. Blasted off the tapestry. Means they can’t come flooing in to drag me home for the holidays. Doesn’t matter. I’m seventeen now, anyway. They can’t legally drag me back. If they tried, anyway, I’m ready for them this time.

BE RUNNING UP THAT ROAD,
BE RUNNING UP THAT HILL
----»» okay, listen up! this application page was made by OPERATIC SKELETON , of CAUTION 2.0. Inspiration came from everywhere, lyrics from running up that hill by kate bush, which is a good song so i suggest you listen. this is my first ever template, so be nice... feel free to tweak things, but leave the credits on, else i shall have pete wentz and his band of rebellions hunt after you and kill you in your sleep.

The sun is overrated.

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((In response to:: message saying that RiH isn't quite for her.))