To some my life at first glance would seem very boring. I wake up every morning, get dressed, comb my dark hair, have a first class breakfast with my stuck up family while discussing the weather and possibly table manners on bad days, practice a bit of magic under the stern eyes of my parents who instruct me every single step of the way (this may sound helpful but not everything is as it seems. They get very annoying very quickly) get around 5 lectures from my mother about pure blood supremacy, try to keep my little brother away from our insane relatives (often in vain) then I have dinner with the family to discuss the weather (yet again) and the status of other rich snobs in the whole freaking universe on really, really bad days. Finally, I go to bed and listen as my mother tucks my baby brother into bed while singing softly about chopping house elves heads off. Joking, her songs are normally too high pitched and damage my ear drums – I can never pick up the lyrics.
Yes, at first glance, my life is exactly what children my age would categorise as a 'nightmare.' Children with a foul mouth would call it something else, I believe.
Beyond my day to day activities lies what I do in the evenings. Well, not every evening or else I'd never get any sleep and end up napping over breakfast, my face in the bacon as my great great great something or other mentions how the rain is falling slowly compared to yesterday.
Most of my relatives (I say most because there are one or two I quite like but hardly ever get to see as my parents have rubbish taste in company) wouldn't like it if they knew. After all, I'm supposed to be playing with their snotty little brats, not out in the streets with the muggle children playing football. Admittedly not as good as Quidditch but muggles don't have broomsticks to zoom around on so I suppose they did well with the resources they had.
I have to be careful not to mention anything to do with magic and extra careful not to call them muggles. I doubt they'd understand what I was going on about. Also, I didn't want to be labelled as a lunatic by people. I guess I wanted to be accepted. They did welcome me into their little group. Almost every evening I'd sneak out of my bedroom window (the walls were old and had plenty of footholds for my nimble fingers and feet) and run to the local park. There, a few boys played football and other games (usually tag or hide and seek) with their parents close by but not really paying attention as the roads were never busy and it was a pretty safe area.
As I got older, my Hogwarts days approached. I was sad to leave my muggle friends (I told them I was going to a private school which was really strict and I probably wouldn't be able to write) but excited because I'd be able to escape my family for a little while.
Well, I'd be able to escape the adults, anyway. The children were a little harder to avoid considering they were all going to the same damn school.
In the long run, it was a good thing I was sorted into the lion's den. My family might have been a load of snakes but that didn't mean I had to be one. Those muggles I had met believed you had to make your own way in the world which is what I decided what I wanted to do. Maybe that's why I hated Snape so much he was everything I could have been, if things had been different. The possibility I was even the slightest bit like him sort of scared me.
My evenings quickly changed after we discovered Remus was a werewolf. James and I studied hard (Lily couldn't believe how we passed our exams as we hardly ever did anything in class, well, that's because all the work was done at night, where no one could invade our privacy. Even years later when James told us the truth, she thought we had cheated somehow. Such is the low opinion that I had to live with) to become animagus. We had to help Peter a lot too because he was useless at practical things. Actually, he was useless when it came to theory. I'm sure his confidence got in the way of things but with friends like us (As Lily often shouted 'egotistical jerk faced morons') you'd think we'd have rubbed off on him a little. Apparently we didn't… But that bit comes later.
Change dosed me once again as we managed to become animagi. We were very proud of ourselves and couldn't wait to try it out. Many days, when it wasn't full moon, we'd run around the castle grounds as animals without a care in the world. Remus would run along with us, even in human form he had the speed of at least 3 men on his best days. On the night of the full moon, we'd accompany him and the fun multiplied.
Our fun didn't last.
Peter betrayed us and my evenings were no longer fun, they weren't dull (perhaps I would have been in better condition if they were) but dark. There aren't many words to describe being in the company of being in dementors for 12 years. Ah, that isn't a challenge for you to discuss insulting words. You know what? Feel free.
Back to my tortuous life in Azkaban, I spent my time there eating whatever they gave me (mouldy bread, gruel, the usual cheap alternatives to actual food) which made me miss the first class monotonous dinners and brooding over my life (some of it better spent than others) and it was wasn't a healthy 12 years, let's leave it at that. I did have my animagus thing keeping my mind reasonably sane so I was better off than the other prisoners (screaming in their sleep, crying, and laughing ceaselessly) so all in all my time wasn't entirely wasted. It's all about your perspective people.
Being Sirius Orion Black, I escaped the inescapable prison. I didn't appreciate their attitude or values, I just had to rebel in the system. Plus, the newspaper showed me where my traitorous ex friend was so, yeah…
Harry got involved then. He reminded me a lot of James and Lily too, it brought me comfort. He was a good kid, smart and kind. Shame about the whole 'I died' thing, we could've had more time together if I had been paying attention. Come to think of it, there are a lot of ifs in my life.
My final evening was when I fell through the veil. I blame my cousin, mostly. I also blame myself.