A/N: This is a little thing I recently cooked up; the Marauder Letters. This takes part in the summer before the sixth year; when the Marauders are separated around the globe, vacationing. So, to stay in touch, our friends are sending letters… among other things. This is just the first segment of my Holiday Documentaries, in which I will write fanfics for each holiday; Christmas, summer vacation, Easter, Halloween, you name it. And so, I'm starting at the summer; the beginning of the end. Each holiday event will take place in seventh year, just so I can add some Lily/James fluff to it. (Har, har.) Enjoy, and just wait for the next installment!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter. Or… Holidays, for that matter. Glad we cleared that up.
The Marauder Letters
Monsieur
Wormtail,
Letters for the Socially
Retarded.
That's
what we should call this... Era of letter-sending and picture
taking.
Either that, or James Potter: The Man Who Thinks
Howlers Are Generosity.
Did he send you a howler as well? I
think the muggles next door didn't
hear the screaming letter loud enough. I think they did however hard
I try to block the thought from my mind. It was worse enough with my
parents here, as well. Imagine James voice screaming in your
ear…
Hello
Padfoot! I regret to inform you that your knickers do not fit me.
Perhaps I am growing; or you are shrinking. Or quite possibly, they
are not your knickers at all, but the devious work of
COWBOYS FROM
SPACE!
Yes, knickers made by space cowboys, or how he
likes to put it, Cowboys from Space.
Either way, it's
fucked up.
Well, vacation here has so far been... entertaining to
say the least. Did you know the Eiffel Tower is three hundred and
twenty meters tall? Enough to make you wonder what kind of sound
Remus would make if you dropped him off it.
So, how are you in
your knicker-y world? I enclosed in this envelope a pair of biting
trousers.
You've
probably discovered them by now.
Anyway, I've
been so longing to meet up with you and the other Marauders…
To curl up on a loveseat and read Victoria Secret magazines and find
new cooking recipes…
Throw on some Kenny G…
Possibly soak up in a hot bath, just the four of us…
HAR
HAR HAR. Got you, didn't
I? I bet you're
sitting on your bed, disappointed that this is a joke. Joke.
Siriusly, this is a joke, so please stop drooling and imagining
me-
Soaking.
WET.
Maybe I should close said topic of
sexy wetness, because thoughts of you and cake and hot bathes are
entering my mind.
OH DEAR, THE INSANITY! I swear you want me to
think dirty things.
But do you want me to want to think of dirty
things? I think you do.
Whatever nasty way you choose, I'm
always in your heart.
I do not mean that literally, for if I were
in your heart, you would be dead and unable to appreciate my
WETNESS.
Wet, wet wet wet wet wet wet wet.
Lovingly yours, (but not really)
Padfoot.
Moony,
Did
you get my howler? Did you, did you, did you? I bet you did. I bet it
screamed nasty things in your ear when your family was in the room.
I
bet you drooled at the nasty things it said.
Anyways, my summer
vacation SUCKS. My mother said that Rome was one of the most
beautiful places in the world, yada yada yada. It is sooo not.
I mean, it's crumbling. And get this; the statues of guys?
They don't have weenies.
It's
really quite frightening, because it makes you wonder if they're
going to hack off your weenies as well. And add them to a secret box
of dismembered weenies located on Mars, kept under watch by
COWBOYS
FROM SPACE.
I don't want a circumcision, Remus… I need it
for Lily-love.
Speaking of Lily, I enclosed in said envelope a
bottle of Lily-fragrance. You allowed ONE INHALANCE. Then it must be
burned, for safety reasons. Who knows; thou that do smell thy
loveliness shall go crazy.
Or some weird thing like that.
I
smell tacos. You know who can't have tacos?
Sirius.
Because
he's IN PARIS.
The lucky sod. I could have brought Lily to the
city of transplants.
Or was it city of romance?
Either way,
it's all good, eh? Eh? You'd be surprised how many lover-ly women
there are here. They keep eye-balling me. And smiling. Like they know
something I don't.
Are they going to hack off my weenie
too?
I like my genital parts. They're so… sterile. And I
know how much you love it when I talk about my genitals, so I think I
shall continue this subject for hours and hours on end, until your
eyes are red and bloodshot from reading said subject and your mind
can do nothing but imagine the beauty that is my manly parts.
So I
hear you've got a visitor next week (AWOOOOOOO!) COUGH CHANGE OF
SUBJECT COUGH. Oh, my darling little Moony, you shall be a giant
furry animal with no sense control and LIKE IT. You know why?
It
frees your mind from everything… except me. I know you love me, but
I regret to tell you that I am with Lily now (she finally fell for my
charms) and madly in love.
So, how are your genitals?
Well, I hope you're well and all that, but I really have no time to
dilly, or dally, or any other word that doesn't really seem like a
word but is an excuse to fill up homework parchment. I must go stroke
my pictures of my dear Lily flower and perform my evening worship
ritual.
Your fellow Cowboy from Space,
Prongs (NOT Jamesie the Red-Nosed Reindeer, you retarded little wolf-beast.)
Padfoot,
Are
you alright? You seem a little more… mental than usual.
I am
going to tell you once, and hope you understand for eternity; I am
most certainly NOT imagining you wet and soaking. I never did, nor
will I EVER. Just to clear that up.
And
thank you for the FLESH EATING TROUSERS! Never before have I
been mauled by mystical, magical pants, but I am here to inform you
that next time you set them on me, you shall
ROT IN
HELL!
You
have no idea how much pain that just caused me to write all of those
exclamation marks, let alone flip through the dictionary to find out
how to spell exclamation. I would have strangled to death by those
trousers, had my mum not just entered the room with a pair of massive
scissors.
Which, by the way, her aim is rubbish.
As a
return gift, I have sent you pornographic pictures that will scream
and shout just exactly how pornographic they are for all to hear.
They are NOT pornographic pictures of me, and they do NOT have
anything to do with me.
They are wet, though. Bet you loved that,
didn't you?
You'd be surprised how similar Canada is to
Europe. Of course, the only thing I'm wondering is why we went to
Canada, the freaking CITY OF IGLOOS instead of, oh, I don't know, a
SAUNA!
No, there aren't really igloos here... I hear there are
up north, which I would LOVE to see. But, of course, I think Eskimos
are fake- I mean, really, who eats seal blubber? So far, my
family and I have gone to… the zoo, a gift shop, and the Niagara
Falls. You know… Niagara Falls? Loads of rushing, glossy clear
water?
WET? Oh yes, I was thinking of you the whole time.
You
can't see me, but I'm giving you the finger right now.
Anyways,
I hope you're enjoying yourself in the city of good food and
WARMTH.
Can't wait till this 'global warming' kicks in.
See
you back at school. Where it's dry.
Wormtail
Prongsie the Red-Nosed Reindeer,
As much as I love to hear you go
on…
And on…
And on…
…About genitals, cowboys from
space, and Lily (how she agreed to date you, I am clueless) I have
business to inform you that it isn't at all pleasurable talk. Even
though, as you read this, you're probably asleep and disregarding
every word I write.
We have other matters to clear up.
First of
all, the statues have no genitals (and in place, leaves) because-
well, think logically. Is the most religious city in the world, the
city of God, going to have sex bannered like movie posters?
Although
I can imagine you liking it…
Secondly, it is impossible to walk
on Mars… so far. So I doubt cowboys would be on it, guarding the
most sacred box of genitals to ever survive upon that planet. And
even though I love talking of manly parts as much as the next guy…
I'm afraid it's a sure sign of your insanity.
Not that it's
a bad thing.
And thirdly, I'm sensing that the reason behind
Lily 'falling for your charms' will forever remain unknown.
It's
been pretty uneventfully here in Italy. There's so
many…
…
Italians. So far, the most interesting part of my
vacation was watching a grown Italian man hand a stack of trousers
back to a saleswoman and declare that they are indeed not "leak
proof".
Which, I must tell you James, most trousers are not leak
proof and you would do well not to try this theory out on mine.
By
the way, James, I think I finally have an answer for your questions
as to why muggles admire guns more than women. If you admire a
friend's handgun and tell him so, he is likely to let you try it
out a few times. Just to get that out of the way.
Well, I think
I'll leave you for now. The parents have turned on the television…
and are zoning out as I write.
What a world with
televisions…
Moony. (Commonly known as wolf-boy. sighs)
Wolf-boy,
James wrote to me about your little disliking of TV, and I must ask you: Excuse me? Have you taken a recent blow to the head? There is a reason we have televisions! And I was kind enough to write it down for you.
1. It is always possible to park directly outside any building you are visiting.
2. A detective can only solve a case once he has been suspended from duty.
3. If you decide to start dancing in the street, everyone you bump into will know all the steps.
4. Most laptop computers are powerful enough to override the communication systems of any invading alien civilization.
5. It does not matter if you are heavily outnumbered in a fight involving martial arts- your enemies will wait patiently to attack you one by one by dancing around in a threatening manner until you have knocked out their predecessors.
6. No one involved in a car chase, hijacking, explosion, volcanic eruption or alien invasion will ever go into shock.
7. When they are alone, all foreigners prefer to speak English to each other.
8. You can always find a chainsaw when you need one.
9. Any lock can be picked by a credit card or a paper clip in seconds, unless it's the door to a burning building with a child trapped inside.
10. Television news bulletins usually contain a story that affects you personally at that precise moment you turn the television on.
So you see, Moony, you have nothing to fear; the
television only provides knowledge! It's
how I got this critical information!
Italy, eh? Well, I suppose
it's
better than Wormtail's
trip to Canada…
Or Cantata…
either way, he's
got to be freezing in hell. With Inuit's
and the type.
Oh, have you gotten a letter from Peter yet?
WHATEVER HE SAID ABOUT WET STUFF IS ENTIRELY UNTRUE. Not that I would
know anything about that…
Or
that there even would be anything about wetness to talk about…
…
Is
that a plane?
When you introduced me to e-mail, Mr. Lupin, I
thought it was ingenious. Now, it's
bloody RUINED ME! I think someone hacked into my e-mail address- last
night, my mum called me to tell me that 'Pogdi',
my Pakistani mail-order bride, had arrived. POGDI! I KNOW NO POGDI!
I am single and shall remain so for the rest of my uneventful life,
no matter the cost! You, Moony, will have a price to pay. Oh yes. I'm
thinking of your punishment right now, and it involves a LOT of
water- HAR HAR HAR.
Anyways, I must be off. I need to devise an
escape route from my early marriage.
Your rabid angry dog,
Padfoot
James,
Ugh.
Get home already, you lucky sod. I'm stuck in the house listening
to my mother watch the Brady Bunch while Petunia comes up with
weirder and weirder nicknames.
She found one of my letters from
you, actually… Yes, she's been teasing me with the names
Lily-flower, Pumpkin, and Spaghetti-Head ever since. Please
James, just call me Lily?
Also, my family and I are devising new
and 'exciting' inventions- such as the water-proof towel, a solar
powered flashlight, submarine screen doors, pedal powered wheel
chairs and more.
None of said devices were mine.
How's Rome
been? Besides the… genital problem? Yes, I heard abut it from
Remus… And really, James, it's quite frightening what you panic
about. Like the fact there are no such things as cowboys from
space.
NO SUCH THING.
And, frankly James, I'm beginning to
become slightly tired of your… er… 'dating manners'. So, I've
written a little something for you.
I do expect you to read
it.
FINE
This is the word women use to end an argument
when they are right and you need to shut up.
FIVE MINUTES
If
she is getting dressed; this is half an hour. Five minutes is only
five minutes if you have just been given 5 more minutes to watch the
game before helping around the house.
NOTHING
This is the
calm before the storm. This means "something," and you
should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with 'Nothing' usually
end in "Fine."
GO AHEAD
This is a dare, not
permission. Don't do it.
LOUD SIGH
This is not actually a
word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A
"Loud Sigh" means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders
why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over
"Nothing."
THAT'S OKAY
This is one of the most
dangerous statements that a woman can make to a man. "That's
Okay" means that she wants to think long and hard before
deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.
THANKS
A woman is thanking you. Do not question it or faint. Just say
you're welcome.
I hope when you come home, you realize how
much this will come in handy.
Missing you,
Lily