Aristotle, 25 Notes, and Three Bad Drawings
August 5th, 1976
Somehow, when James wasn’t looking or was half asleep and too incoherent to do anything about it, his mum talked him and Sirius into going to a lecture at the Muggle library in their neighbourhood. Something about, “So your brains don’t go all squashy while you are busy lazing about and eating all the food in the house.” However it happened, they are now sitting at a table in the library, which is hot and stuffy, doodling on a stack of lined paper with stubby little yellow pencils. Sirius stares into space, watching the leaves of a tree fluttering outside the window. He wishes he were outside with that breeze. Neither one of them is entirely sure what the lecture is about. Something to do with Aristotle-they’ve heard his name several times, in the brief moments when they are actually listening.
Sirius showed up on James’ front porch yesterday, dragging his school trunk, looking windblown and tired. “I moved out,” he said. “Can I stay here?” And of course, James and his parents have been only too happy to rename the guest room Sirius’s room. James has not yet asked why exactly Sirius had left home, though he has seen it coming for a good while-years, maybe.
He grabs a piece of paper and scribbles a note to Sirius.
Sirius grins roguishly and eyes the woman, who is of a stout middle-age, and who has been facing front the entire time.
James snorts, and fashions a silly little dunce cap out of a piece of paper. The lecturer glares at him. It’s not as though he has anything against Aristotle, really, it’s just that no one should be made to hear about him on such a lovely day as this, when they could be outside romping and being festive, and shocking the neighbours.
James writes his response, and wonders whether Aristotle ever imagined two teenage wizards would be one day listening to (by which we mean ignoring) a lecture about him and plotting to prank the Slytherins. Probably not.
Every year since they were twelve, the four Marauders have pulled a Great Back to School Prank of Doom and Destruction, outdoing themselves each time. Last year’s prank, which involved all the fifth-year Slytherins’ trousers and many many mashed potatoes, resulted in three weeks of detention. Of course, this year they have the benefit of being animagi, an asset which they have yet to really use for the furthering of Chaos and Disorder.
Sirius grins and nods, and doodles their faces in the margins. Moments later, he writes another note.
James gapes at him, and shakes his head. Sirius thinks vaguely that he looks rather like a fish.
Sirius looks faintly miffed. James can’t tell if it’s because he got drunk without him, or because he nearly snogged Frank Longbottom.
The concept of Sirius “just wondering” is unusual. Sirius either thinks too much, or not at all. Really, this is true of Sirius in all respects. He embodies extremes, and never does anything halfway.
Somehow, when James wasn’t looking or was half asleep and too incoherent to do anything about it, his mum talked him and Sirius into going to a lecture at the Muggle library in their neighbourhood. Something about, “So your brains don’t go all squashy while you are busy lazing about and eating all the food in the house.” However it happened, they are now sitting at a table in the library, which is hot and stuffy, doodling on a stack of lined paper with stubby little yellow pencils. Sirius stares into space, watching the leaves of a tree fluttering outside the window. He wishes he were outside with that breeze. Neither one of them is entirely sure what the lecture is about. Something to do with Aristotle-they’ve heard his name several times, in the brief moments when they are actually listening.
Sirius showed up on James’ front porch yesterday, dragging his school trunk, looking windblown and tired. “I moved out,” he said. “Can I stay here?” And of course, James and his parents have been only too happy to rename the guest room Sirius’s room. James has not yet asked why exactly Sirius had left home, though he has seen it coming for a good while-years, maybe.
He grabs a piece of paper and scribbles a note to Sirius.
Sirius grins roguishly and eyes the woman, who is of a stout middle-age, and who has been facing front the entire time.
James snorts, and fashions a silly little dunce cap out of a piece of paper. The lecturer glares at him. It’s not as though he has anything against Aristotle, really, it’s just that no one should be made to hear about him on such a lovely day as this, when they could be outside romping and being festive, and shocking the neighbours.
James writes his response, and wonders whether Aristotle ever imagined two teenage wizards would be one day listening to (by which we mean ignoring) a lecture about him and plotting to prank the Slytherins. Probably not.
Every year since they were twelve, the four Marauders have pulled a Great Back to School Prank of Doom and Destruction, outdoing themselves each time. Last year’s prank, which involved all the fifth-year Slytherins’ trousers and many many mashed potatoes, resulted in three weeks of detention. Of course, this year they have the benefit of being animagi, an asset which they have yet to really use for the furthering of Chaos and Disorder.
Sirius grins and nods, and doodles their faces in the margins. Moments later, he writes another note.
James gapes at him, and shakes his head. Sirius thinks vaguely that he looks rather like a fish.
Sirius looks faintly miffed. James can’t tell if it’s because he got drunk without him, or because he nearly snogged Frank Longbottom.
The concept of Sirius “just wondering” is unusual. Sirius either thinks too much, or not at all. Really, this is true of Sirius in all respects. He embodies extremes, and never does anything halfway.