The Journal

Summary: James recieves a journal for Christmas from an anonymous sender. What better to do with it, than write? Seventh year, JP pairing. R&R please!

A/N: Nothing belongs. Thank you for all of your reviews:)

December 28th, 1978

Isn't it amazing when you don't have to do anything at all, things start to get boring and then you miss the usual schedule? For me, that's wake up at 7:20, get dressed, do left over homework from the previous night, pack everything, wake up Padfoot, wake up Wormtail, and then, depending on the day, wake up Moony. Moony is...lets say a lot more delicate than the rest of us. I mean, being a werewolf isn't exactly a picnic. Of course, if he wasn't, then we wouldn't be the Marauders, and who knows what I would have been.

Some days, you really have to admire Remus. It isn't easy to be afflicted with lyncanthropy - that's the scientific name. I wish I knew who had bit him...I'd give the bastard a piece of my mind. Moony doesn't exactly talk about it all that much.

Who am I kidding? It's six thirty in the morning, and I'm awake and writing in this stupid journal of all things. I could have tracked down Flitwick for help on my essay or something! Oh well. Wow, that's a really blue sky. Perfect Quidditch conditions today...maybe I can persuade Evans to come with me while I give her a ride on a broomstick? Eh, she's scream and give me detention. Not worth the risk. Wait a minute, James Spartacus Potter, saying that having your face cursed off by Evans for simply taking her for a broomstick ride is NOT WORTH THE RISK?!

Oh boy...I wonder when I suffered brain damage. If Sirius were here, he'd knock some sense into me. Litterally. But he's not here, and thank god for that, because if he ever found out my middle name was Spartacus, that'd be the end of me. How on earth that my grandfather survive with such a stupid name?! Why couldn't it have been something, like, Orion or something like that. But, I don't exactly envy Sirius...his initials are S.O.B. Sob. Boo hoo. Compared to that, Spartacus is a lovely name.

James sighed and glanced at his watch. Seven thirty seven. He'd need to call a Quidditch meeting today. Sure, the season wasn't going to resume for a while yet, but they needed to discuss some tactics.

I'd better go. I need to call together my fellow Quidditch nuts. Namely, Weasley, Patil, Patil (twins), Black, Potter (me), and last but not least, Finnigan. I'm quite sure that I'm going to be amputated today for some reason.

Bye,

James Potter.

Later

You'll never guess who was in the Quidditch pitch today. Wait, wait, I'll tell you. It was EVANS! I know, I couldn't believe it myself, until I came closer and saw her finely defined features for myself. It was indeed the love of my life, Lily Evans, in the flesh. AT THE QUIDDITCH PITCH. My first reaction was to ask her what she was doing there of course. I was under the impression that the only girls that played Quidditch were one of the Patil twins. But no, she was there, broomstick at her side, book open, obviously reading. Her answer? Well, it was a simple, "I came here to read, Potter." to which I replied,

"With a broomstick?"

Yeah, not exactly the best time to be making jibes or displaying sexism. She raises her eyebrow, as cool as you please, and tells me that she doesn't mind flying every once in a while. I shrug and tell her to put the broom back in the shed. Surprise, surprise, it's her OWN BROOMSTICK. The newest model too. Nimbus 200.

And here I am, flying with a dusty old Cleansweep -10.

So, I turn my back to her, and the rest of the team files out. After some minor jinxing and shouting myself hoarse, we practice what we talked about and headed in after about half an hour. I change and come out to find Lily waiting for me.

"This is a surprise," I said to her. She just shrugged and informed me that Flitwick wants to see me.

Why do I have the feeling that someone handed my essay in early?

I think I'd better compose my will now. Just in case I don't come back alive.

James.

The Last Will and Testament of James Spartacus Potter

To Sirius Orion Black, I give my Marauders Map with hopes that he will use it well and with responsibility.

To Remus John Lupin, I give my book Werewolves that made History in hopes that he will know to always follow his heart and never lose hope.

To Peter Pettigrew, I give my broomstick, and hope that he will learn to recognize both ends.

And lastly, to Lily Marie Evans, I give my heart, in hopes that she will understand my undying love and affection, and sorrow that she could never return those feelings to me.

This is the last will and testament of James Spartacus Potter.

A/N: I hate the stereotype that James is the Quidditch hero, while Lily despises the sport. Just because she tells James off for messing up his hair to look like he got off a broomstick, DOES NOT MEAN THAT SHE HATES QUIDDTICH! That's been bugging me for a while now.

R&R please!

Much lub,
BookWyrrm