Pride and Pr—PRONGS!

Hey. Spidey here. (God I sound like Peter Parker) Another chap. I'm writing more cuz I'm finishing my other story. Check it out. No REALLY.—press blade onto belly—meh. I have a violent virtual personality.

It's a matter of natural selection who survives in this world or disappears eternally. This process depends on the strength and intelligence of the organism in question. I know this fact, however, that by no means suggests that I posses intelligence or emasculate strength, which is heartbreaking, really.

Then they say I'm arrogant , but can you not see my modesty? Smell it's thick and sickly sweet aroma that completely overwhelms the bitter underlying sarcasm? For , of course I am not the wittiest , but I can bet you my father has connections with him. And , although I am not the strongest , it is the reason why I carry a twelve inch ebony stick in my pocket.

It's my WAND you perverse excuse for an animal!

So that makes me the stronger species, bastards. Watch your silk-swabbed bottoms for I am whipping them! Protect your hanging testes, for I will impale them onto the correct location! Look out Wizarding world , James Potter is surviving and ready to watch you GROVEL AT HIS HOLY TOES!—

Heh. Perhaps I should cease this euphoric mental rant. I know I am surviving , but it seems that EVERY BLEEDING Knockturn Alley drunken and MASSIVE barman has decided to wobble and screech in tones of varying Helium-induced sopranos in my direction.

"Here comes yer—hic—bride , Here—hic—'ere come 'er bride, and uh , come to Jamai—hic—Jamaica and feel—hic—BLOODY SLOSHED!"

"Hehehehahahaheheheahhaa…Oh, BUGGER!"

"What 'appned—hic—Georgiiiiii?"

"I've Pissed on meself!"

" Aga—hic—in?"

"Yes!"

"Ish alright mate, don't cry! We'll er, dry the—hic—bastards again!"

Foine. You've caught me. Oh-Bloody-Whoop for your victorious arse, for the GREAT James Potter has lied…again…repeatedly. So the celebrating bachelors aren't barmen, though they are wobbling, and they weren't MASSIVE per-se, just rather large.

" Oi! Georgiiiiii—hic—iiii!"

"Yeah?"

"Stop pissing—hic—on that—hic—small lass!"

"Oh! I'll just move along then?"

"Oi! Georgiiiiiiii—"

"What?"

"There's a massi—hic—ve bugger up 'ead"

I saw that the teeny bastards were staring at me , or at least that one with the kilt was , the other was busy apologizing to the moving poster for BURSTING BUBBLES GUM ,whom was , shall I say…more than a bit vexed.

Being a man of my maturtite—oh bugger, what's the word? Maturute—maturitire? Matur—maturity! Bloody hell, my brilliance is great in times of need! Did I say I was modest? Heh, well, what can I say? I'm English that gives me enough reason to lord over all you punks! You should be grateful I haven't incinerated you! Though I admit, I lied. Shamefaced, mind you. Oh, fuck you! That's what I do, alright?

As I was saying, being a man of my maturity ( Using these words give you a rather tall and…powerful feeling (not that I don't always feel that way)), simply smiled socially and exclaimed

"RUN YOU DRUNKEN TWAT-SNIFFERS, DEATH EATERS!"

"NOOOoooooo—hic—oooo! Georgiiiiiii, Death—hic—Eaters!"

"I Shtill don't believe 'im."

"Fo—hic—ool!"

"What if hish lying, Patrick? Then we'd look lik—"

"OOOUCHHHH, PAIN! OH EXCRUCIATING PAIN!"

"LESH GOOO!"

Ha.Ha.HA. Always bloody works, it's like a damn mangle-proof technique, if I'm ever feeling generous, (highly unlikely) remind me to teach it to you , and I might consider it.

Now all I have to do is get out of this dodgy place. With my luck , I'll run into a randy Snape, and have to shove my wand up his—left nostril. Merlin knows it's big enough, and so do I. How does it feel to know someone as brilliant and more sexually active than the most, err, brilliant wizard of all time? Overwhelming, isn't it? That's how I felt after my first shag; she had to kiss my feet and all that hogwash (part of the ritual , you know. Since she felt so honored). Very entertaining.

First I must locate my purse. Odd phrase….nevertheless, the handsome James Potter has to be on his way out! Purse…purse….back pockets , robe pockets….undies…knickers

( They're comforting , alright?). Oh, bloody fuck. SHITE!

I loathe Knockturn Alley. I loathe it for a reason, it has very dodgy inhabitants , including, thieving NIFFLERS! Those bloody bastards will be so buggered , they wont know their arse from their filthy twats! I promise you! I'm English , and if there's one thing we can do , it's our bloody quests!

OoO

"Good Merlin! Can anyone spare some change for a blind wizard?" I gripped at the empty ground in front of me. Have I mentioned my talent for dramatics? Nay? Well now I have.

"Cant's you just charm your eyes back to normal, wizard?"

"You bloody unsympathetic bastard!" I made a grab for the boys throat, he looked like he'd just begun Hogwarts. Cocky kids , If I was teaching there, they'd realize they had nothing to boast about. With the exception of their microscopic willys.

His mother grabbed his head before I had a chance to twist it off his shoulders. Bugger.

"What are you doing?" she screeched, petting the kid's abnormally round head as he squeaked in fear.

I started grabbing the ground before me "I'm just trying to survive, mam. Your small and pathetically endowed girl—"

"Boy—"

"It's of no consequence. She tried to steal me hat."

"You have no hat you blind fool" she spat , viciously I might add, her toxic saliva made indentations in my cheeks.

"I have not?" I said meekly , feeling the cobbled street around me, "Your daughter—"

"Son—"

"Must've stolen it!" I tell you my brilliance sometimes scares me, I started screeching in pain like a wounded alley kneazel , and the woman started looking about her and exclaiming loudly about the honor and credibility of her ancient family. As well as the ridiculousness of the idea of her son Billy (rich and handsome despite his early age)would steal a beggar's hat! She pressed her unpleasant son to her skinny breast as people started to gather. I made no comment on the amount of audience( though I did start yelling a bit more loudly) I was blind at the time.

"—He's a wonderful son, and devoted Quidditch player—"

"LIES! Filthy lies! The thieving lass stole my month's savings!"

"I thought you said he stole your hat—"

"They were in the hat!" I added quickly , praising my immense brain quietly.

"Fine! Fine!" she reached into her purse "Here!" she threw a couple coins onto the ground , grabbing the pouting child by the neck and dragging him away. Ha, James Potter, con-man extraordinaire. Please , control your appraisal until after the show.

I pulled my sunglasses off and buried them in my hair, they were pink and frilly , and occasionally they buzzed with sound ("Lookin' Good Girlie!") but I couldn't complain, I'd just stolen them a couple minutes before from a lass's pink and frilly and occasionally buzzing purse. I counted the coins , my eyes blinking in disbelief.

"Seven Sickles!" I whispered "SEVEN SICKLES!" a bit more loudly.

"How can you expect me to survive you cheap Heffner?" I yelled at the woman, throwing rocks , cats and small children at her retreating back.

" YOU JUST KEEP RUNNING!"

My third day in Knockturn Alley. It's been complete bollocks. Begging by day, whoring by night. I think I've run into a couple of mum's old friends, couldn't be sure though, there's been way too many. I even got into a fight with that bloody squib yesterday 'cause she said I was standing on her corner, and I says , what are you , Bloody Morgana reincarnated? She says she's not , but that I still had to get off her corner. Bloody squib, I think she likes getting smacked. I took her money again, which got stolen this morning , so I wasn't lying completely when I said I didn't have my savings. They just weren't in a hat. Hahaha, brilliant.

Which brings me back to my current predicament. I don't have enough bleeding money to feed myself.

" Aren't you supposed to be blind?"

Bloody cocky pre-adolescents .

"Erm…..Oh, Merlin! I can see! Thank Agrippa! Praise Magic!"

"I gave you two sickles!"

"And Merlin will praise your kindness good sir, as well as my stomach."

"Give 'em back, you thieving wanker!"

"NEVER!" I ran up the cobbled alley , dodging dodgy characters with a lack of ease and grace. But I'm male and that's excuse enough for my deficiency in those departments. Up I went and finally out of the soot-covered storefronts and miniature drug dealer headquarters and into Diagon Alley. I was running very quickly , people streaming past ( or perhaps that was because they were running too) , and finally the cries of hurt arrogance and cheap-ary were lost in the Hogwarts crowd. I was still running.

I was gaily sprinting past Gringotts like a gazelle inhaling Nitrous Oxide , when I pushed down a light body with an almighty roar of manliness (you can tell I'm being sarcastic, right?)

"Sorry." I grumbled "I'm sorry you had to be a blind bastard getting in my way!" I quickly got up , cursing the man and feeling my robes for my wand.

"Mister Potter?"

" Dumbledore?" I squeaked "Shite"

Dumbledore raised a brow and nearly looked indignant but his expression quickly returned to the normal placid and somewhat amused look , which I was glad for.

"Would you be so kind as to help me up Mister Potter?"

"Ahh , of course , professor" he grabbed my hand and I tugged on it strongly, he staggered a bit , then smoothed out his robes.

"I've been looking for you everywhere , Mister Potter"

I must've looked willy-smacked because he chuckled in that you-foolish-child-I-am-so-much-superior-to-your-minute-brain way and motioned for me to follow him. As we got out of the middle of the alley , I saw an angry mob of shady personas stream past. I smirked. Damn, I am one lucky dog—stag.

"Would you join me for an early tea? I have a preposition for you" he smiled , as if saying Go on, ask , It'll just make me look smarter when I deny you the knowledge.

I smiled widely , my stomach flipping in joy. Finally I found my wand and performed a quick cleaning spell on my robes (and myself), then replied,

"Sure, that'd be lovely Professor" all I was missing were the angelic golden locks and halo (not to mention the actual good intentions).

Sup. How'd you enjoy the last batch of virtual condoms? Useful? Good. I have a stash somewhere in my virtual universe, I could give you some, if you asked politely, kissed my toes and reviewed.