Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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Dearest Knittingshams,

So, where the hell should I begin? When I found out that I would finally be allowed to write you, my face became sore from intense smiling. Everything seems so far away now and I've missed you and everyone terribly. Hope you haven't forgotten all about me. There was no way I could ever forget my mishap mentor and all the mad adventures we shared. I can only hope that this letter finds you well, and that you'd share a little of your life with me. I imagine that you never found that way to reach me like you promised, even after attending Hogwarts.

So, let's get right down to it instead of endlessly dancing around. What troubles have you gotten into since my untimely departure? How I envy you, at Hogwarts, swimming in magic until your fingers become prunes. My father told me some of the, well, situations you've landed yourself in. Kind of like landing in a steaming Hippogriff pile- I believe those were the exact words he used. Seems your group rules the school. I can just picture the other cohorts you've diluted with your superbly foul pranks, and it makes me jealous even more. And of course you are a Gryffindor. Not that this is news - you always knew you would be. It is probably for the best that I never went there since I probably would have ended up in Hufflepuff.

And Quidditch Captain and all around Unbeatable Chaser?! Yes, surely I'm a bit biased, but I still cannot forget your first encounter with a regulation snitch. Not to mention your impeccable quaffle aim. And then I hear you're Head Boy? How on earth did you manage that? Are your ears flaming red yet from all this sunshine being blown up your proverbial bottom? Just thinking about you like this, well, it's making me fall off the bed with laughter. If only the other wizards knew you like I do…don't get your quills in a bunch, your secrets will forever be safe with me, darling Uncle!

As for me, well, I am trapped in the magically dry desert of muggle life. It's not really too terribly awful, I have found many friends of both the magic and non-magic persuasion. Just a sprinkle of teen drama, at least that's what Dad calls it.

Unfortunately, my fellow wizards and I are only allowed to use magic sparingly, and that's about all. At least we are all stuck in the same boat in the barren desert. Much to my enthusiasm, I have been privately tutored in all relevant practical magic and theory by a host of strange and wonderful wizards. And, yes, do be proud of this, I have been able to mess with the most pompous among them.

Otherwise, I attend a muggle school like all others my age. Unfortunately, advancing a few terms doesn't help much with fitting in here. As if I didn't already feel completely out of place. But, I have developed an extreme fondness for muggle sciences, and most importantly, animals. Mom and Dad even allowed me to help at a local wildlife preserve. Oh, it's so wonderful! I love the trees, and turning over each fallen rock or log to find a whole new world. How lucky you are to be able to venture in the Forbidden Forest…and I do know you do, Lord Shams. Otherwise, that just wouldn't be you, would it?

I hope one day to study more about magical creatures. Of course, Dad will have his say, and I will probably become a muggle animal doctor. I guess it's better than the people sort, couldn't stand that… really never understood how he does.

Well, I most certainly do not want to keep you from your academic pursuits – I realize that your NEWTS are an absolute priority. And I definitely wouldn't want to keep you from the dung bomb plotting! Best of luck with that, and remember, keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times…

Love,

Lady Stinkbugs



James allowed his eyes to completely absorb the words upon the parchment over and over again. He was supposed to be the one to find her, not the other way around. From astonishment to giddy contentment, his smile curled upwards almost touching his ears. Because he was not allowed to contact her by any means for the past eight years, the joy at hearing from her connected him to his young childhood. In his mind's eye, he could almost see the little waif of a girl dressed in a once white dress, caked with grass and mud. Her bare knobby knees were scraped far too red beyond that of a pristine little girl, and peeked out from underneath her ruined dress. Her deep copper brown hair was knotted and twisted with dirt and grime. Yet her eyes sparkled with light and wonder. That's how he remembered her.

The last time he saw her she was barely six years old and quite the precocious snapdragon. James was nine, and had already begun to show all signs of an emerging merry prankster. He had taken her under his wing to follow in his older and wiser footsteps, as any good uncle would.

Not many knew that James Potter had a much older brother who was married and living a muggle life across the ocean. For if people did, it would just add to the blood traitor gossip that abounded from the lips of those that despised such hideous ideals. Never was it completely explained to him why his own brother went away with his wife and young daughter, his only niece. No explanation ever satisfied the endless questions he plagued his parents with, and as time passed; he unwillingly accepted their vague answers. But here, right at this very moment, was a letter from her.

Perched upon the disheveled blankets of his unmade bed, James contemplated what she could possibly be like now. His black hair stuck out in every direction imaginable, and his glasses sat askew on the bridge of his nose. There was a warm afternoon breeze showering through the open windowpane, despite the final days of September at Hogwarts. The dormitory room was void of all noise and movement save for the wind that tasseled the young man's crazed cowlicks.

James received the owl right before lunch, and carefully scampered off before any of his closest friends could notice. He did not recognize the owl or the handwriting upon the envelope, but he knew the name, "The Lord of Knittingshams". Never did he expect to hear that silly title again, but there it was written boldly in blue ink. She actually devised that title after one of James' earlier pranks of toads in the iced tea. Quite clever for the little garden sprite, he thought.

A ground-shaking burst accompanied by a loud crunch, suddenly jarred the young man from his fond childhood memories. Within the dorm's oaken archway stood James' best mate, confidant and fellow Marauder, Sirius Black.

Still smoking parchment shreds floated down upon the young wizard, ashes falling into his long dark hair. He had the look of hilarious defeat, James noted, as he slid the letter underneath his sheets. Even before the last ash fell at his feet, Sirius professed, "And I suppose you felt that was absolutely necessary?"

James' hazel eyes lit up and he laughed loudly, his shoulders reaching up to his ears. "Sorry Padfoot – just didn't think you stalk after me and skulk behind the door. Honest mate," he managed to say between breaths, "had to have a bit of a private moment."

Of course, Sirius did not take the prank lightly, but strode across the room in a most dignified manner and flopped midair upon his bed landing with his legs gracefully crossed.

"Well I wouldn't have been 'skulking', as you so dubiously put it, if I hadn't seen the worried look on your face after you received your post. My intentions were honorable…especially after all that's been happening out there." Sirius had become a regular part of the Potter family, and worried deeply about them. James' mother adored him to no end.

"Your concerns are appreciated. Yeah, the world outside seems to be colliding headfirst into oblivion, even as we sit here. Only yesterday, Marjorie Gilliam's whole family was found dead underneath the dark mark. Heard she's probably leaving for good – "

"S'not right. Nobody has a right to destroy another life," Sirius said quietly.

"Certainly not. You know, we'll be leaving here soon…suppose it may be a reality we have to face," and with a sudden brave look James continued, "I intend to stand up to that challenge and throw every punch at it."

"There you go again, acting all honorable and brave…guess I'll have to too. Somebody's got to watch your back."

James smirked sideways at his best friend. If anything he knew Sirius had every intention to stand up against this new Dark Movement. Sirius had always fought harder than anyone else against pureblood bigotry. James reflected briefly upon the time in their first year, when Sirius took on a whole gang of Slytherin fourth years for hexing a muggleborn Hufflepuff. There and then, James Potter and Sirius Black became best friends.

"Aw, shucks, Padfoot, you really care!"

Just as Sirius began to open his mouth to ask what the mysterious owl could be about, and, more importantly, if everyone was safe, another explosive crunch shook the seventh year's dormitory doorway. And standing there was the frazzled round face of Peter Pettigrew. Peter still had his eyes closed while the other two slowly began to chuckle. Parchment was flying about, and a smoking piece landed in the boy's dishwater hair.

The stonewalls echoed their laughter, and it finally dawned on poor Peter what had happened.

"Hey – that was my Divination essay! I worked all night on that, you prats! Stop laughing – " Peter yelled as his hair continued to smoke.

"Pipe down there son. You can always nick Remus' again," Sirius said but also immediately noticed Peter had been carrying a blueberry pie. The fruitier pies Sirius adored more than a heated broom closet meeting. Of course, chocolate pudding was lovely too, especially when mixed with butterscotch, and his vivid mind began to trail off. Pies and pudding were only a few Sirius Black's guilty pleasures. His eyes went wide and wild with the tempting pastry.

"Where'd ya get the pie, Peter?"

"Oh no way. Get your own, I nicked mine from the kitchens."

Now was the time for some quick distractive strategy Sirius thought. "Hey, you do know that your hair is on fire, yeah?"

"Shite!! Now, I'm going to have a bald spot," Peter cried with such worry and sped off into the nearest bathroom. "I'm too young to go bald!" he shouted back like a middle-aged man in severe crisis.

"Well, you knew it was only a matter of time, Pete," James called out after him as the sound of the shower screeched on. But of course in his frightened frenzy, he did not hear his friend. Nor did he remember what he left behind. Peter left his coveted blueberry pie alone with Sirius Black.

Of course, James fully understood, at least most times, how Sirius' mind worked. And he realized that it couldn't have been the more perfect distraction for dear old Padfoot. Truly, Sirius would probably pick a pie over the hottest blonde tart. Hopefully now Sirius would forget all about his letter, and he wouldn't have to lie to his best mate. The only post Sirius did receive was either a howler from the Black family, or an occasional letter from his equally disowned cousin Andromeda. James always shared everything with him, but in this particular moment, he wanted the letter to be all his own.

Sirius took his chance to spring into action, and captured the sweet treat. "Want some?" Sirius asked as he conjured two forks.

"No mate, it's all yours," James graciously said. He was still upon his own bed, fingering the edges of the letter's pages.

"Thanks!" And with a huge mouthful of the blueberry-encrusted prize Sirius mumbled, "Oh man – this is soo damn good…"

James sniggered and he quickly stuffed the letter in his robe pockets while Sirius concentrated on another forkful, seemingly unnoticed. Or so he thought.

Peter came back out of the bathroom wet from head to toe. A patch of hair the size of a galleon was missing from his pin straight locks. Dripping in metaphoric defeat, he sighed hopelessly.

"I was planning to ask out Alana Wenning at supper. Just look…" and Peter broke off noticing the fork protruding from his friend's blue stained lips. "Hey you old mangy mutt, that was my pie!"

Grinning with blueberry teeth, Sirius commented proudly, "Guess you can't teach an old dog new tricks."

"First my essay, then my hair, then my pie!"

"We'll get you a new pie mate. And Remus is probably in the library, so you can catch him before class starts. As for your hair, well, there are a few spells we can try. But Alana Wenning? You should talk to Sirius about that first," James pushed his glasses further up his nose.

"Hey," Sirius finished another scoop of pie, "I resent the fact that all of you think I have snogged or shagged every beautiful girl gracing in these halls…"

"Were you with her too?" Peter's light eyebrows drew together with questioning concern. Sirius shrugged. After all, that was way back in fifth year, he silently recalled.

"Whatever. Black, put the pie down." James directed and he performed a quick dry spell upon Peter. "Come on Pete, we'll go find Moony before class and sort out your essay. And after class we can nick you another damn pie."

Peter smiled like the little boy who was told that he could have dessert before his dinner, which was exactly what was going to happen. He really did appreciate how much James always looked out for him. Comically bringing his hands to his head, he smoothed down some hair over the bald spot and whistled as he walked out the door.

Sharing a few amused glances, Sirius and James grabbed their books.

"Do you think he stands a chance with Wenning?"

"No," Sirius said in complete candor, "but maybe I can help him. I have a plan."

"Don't you always?"

As they left their room, Sirius leaned into James, his eyes devilishly burning, and whispered, "Never you mind. And don't even think for a moment that I've forgotten about your mystery letter."

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