Chaser, Seeker, Killer:

My Christmas to everyone! I'm sending gifts in return for all the lovely things I've received from everyone!

I've actually had a bit of my pranking mind back, so I think I'm getting better, but honestly, I've got my family, and I fear I'm rather too content to do much. Now if only a certain black dog would come down and spend the hols with us, and someone with a now absent furry little problem if he's feeling well enough after the full moon....

( Gifts for Sirius )

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( To Moony )

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( To Lily-Flower )

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( To Harry )

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( To Dumbledore )

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( To Grindelwald )

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( To Rose )

The universe has made a Moony out of me!

Today, I read a book.

Yes! A whole book! And it wasn't because I was upset or anything. Instead, it was because I wanted to and playing pranks just didn't seem fun. I had no desire to get into trouble, and thought it unwise to go chasing down Riddle and hurting him.

What is wrong with me? Unwise? Did I get some common sense tortured into me?

Hell, even peeing in Snape's shoe seemed too dangerous and time consuming and completely irrational, and I thought it would cause more harm than good. Irrational. Since when has that ever bothered me?

Universal calming draught. Oh dear Merlin.

I hate to say this, but...I miss the old me.

[Private to self]

I didn't go to the yule ball last night. I should have contacted Dumbles and told him, but my official story is that I was sick. I bet it's still going on, too. I feel like some insecure girl who got stood up to the halloween dance.

I know I promised bells and fun, and I apparated there, but then I saw Sirius. And it hit me that Moony would be there, and so would all these other people I knew who had the chance to grow up, and I thought that the longer I can avoid seeing them face to face, the longer I can avoid how awkward it will be. I really hate this. I've never felt uncomfortable or insecure in the history of, well, ever. But even my own son is more grown up than me.

And...and then there's Peter. What if he went? What if I had to face him again and I wound up puking on him? The thought makes me feel sick. He really betrayed us. He did this to us, and if he hadn't, then I could have grown up with them, and I wouldn't still be a young kid running around playing pranks and--

What if I irritate them? What if they decide they don't want to know me anymore? I already feel like if I meet Moony again, that'll happen. I always knew he'd eventually leave the marauder's behind for sweater vests and maturity. They've been through so much, and I'm still this; this figure suspended in time. And Padfoot...fuck, even Padfoot is an adult now! He's changed, and how can someone change that much and--

Maybe it's best I died when I did. I think I have just ruined everything with my best friend and my wife, and knowing me, I probably would have done the same with my son. If I can't make my friends happy, how could I ever make my son happy? What's wrong with me? How is it that Peter could hate me that much. What will happen when I lose Pads and Moony? I'm a horrible friend. A horrible husband. And I probably would have made an even more horrible father.

[/]

Dumbledore--
Sorry for not attending last night. I know I promised bells, but I wound up with snot. Sick as bloody can be. It's what I get for not holding my liquor well. You know how it goes!

[Private to friends--OBVIOUSLY Pettigrew not included--family, and Dumbledore, because James could really use some advice]

He's here. Worse than bloody Voldemort, it is. Peter Pettigrew. What am I supposed to do? This is...the cunt that tried to have Harry killed. And I hate him, but I can imagine how pitiful he is, and part of me still can't believe--

I still can't wrap my mind around him betraying us.

I want there to be a real reason for it. Some sort of real excuse. But how do you excuse what he did?

Why does this hurt so much now that he's here?

Hmmm...let us see if this works. I'm practicing a few charms, so if my journal explodes, I do hope it doesn't cause anything bad to happen to the rest of you. The most I believe may happen will a changing of the page color.

HA! I think I got it to work. Old friends my continue, with the proper password of our beloved map, of course.

{Charmed, so as to only be visible to those who know the password for the map}

I am moving back in with Lily, and I am going to be asking Harry to join us. I want to speak with Lily about a sort of reunion party, but I was also thinking of trying to find her a surprise. Something that she'll absolutely love. But you all know how horrid I am at gifts. So does anyone have a suggestion?

[/mischief managed]

{Charmed for friendly eyes only, with special wards against Snivelly for the time being}

I have decided to finally emerge from solitude.

It's been so long since my eyes first opened here in this strange place. Immediate thoughts assaulted me--the home I saw that I was to live in was not my own. Yet I knew it was to be mine. It reminded me of the summer house my parents owned out by the lake, hidden and tucked away nicely in the forest. The place I always dreamed of living, as a youth. Free in the wild overgrown forests and randomly placed clearings to play. The waterfall it was by seemed perfection incarnate. But there was no peace. There was nothing for me there. I looked around and all I could think was Lily and Harry were gone.

I had wandered through the home, found this journal...learned that there were places and things here, but I could not bare the guilt and the thought of joining with the rest of the world. Though finally I do suppose it is time that I write in this blasted thing. Though what is time, now that there is no life? What is the matter of seconds, minutes, hours, or years in the whole spectrum of eternity? I could live my [life? Afterlife? Anti-life?] forever in the self imposed silence that I’ve cast upon myself and still not find respite from my guilt. I think mayhap it is time that I found a way to alleviate myself of my own sins committed. I wish I had forgotten how I died. Chosen to leave that behind. But no—I was stupid enough to say it was the right thing to do. To remember my sins. To remember that it’s all my fault. If only I had my wand. If only I hadn’t trusted Sirius to make the right choice in using Peter as Secret-Keeper. If only I had let Dumbledore be it instead.

If only. A thousand and one if only’s, and still there remains this reality of this…anti-life.

I’ve noticed other writing in here, but I’ve feared to read. I’ve seen names I never thought would die. Dumbledore, being one. Riddle. What a joke. But I fear to look further. What if I find Lily? What if I find Harry? Sweet Merlin, have I killed them both through my stupidity of trusting a rodent?

I can’t die here, I've realized. It’s not like I’ve made any attempts on my…well…my death? My absence of life to make me more absent of life? Fuck, this poetical thing really doesn’t work. Heh, I just said poetical. I wonder if that’s a word. I think it is. Poetical verse, correct? Now, if I had said "Poeticality", that would be a non-word. If I ever find Moony here, I'm assaulting his ears with improper grammar. The horror!

ANYWAY. I was being melancholy and pitiful, wasn’t I? Yes, yes I was. Back to that, shall we?

Okay? Where was I again? Oh yeah, I can’t die. I find that interesting. As I was saying, I didn’t attempt to re-kill myself. Although that might be an interesting prospect….

I’ve been avoiding the places where I’ve seen other people. Trying to figure out what’s going on. Why I haven’t aged past 21. I know the rules, I know the truths, all somewhere inside of me like the ingrained knowledge that I’m a male, but on the same note, I just can’t believe them. Probably because there's nothing so obvious as a penis sticking out from my body saying "HEY! IT'S MORE THAN JUST INSTINCT!" It seems so…surreal. I’ve been in the forests, or anywhere else I can find in this strange fog, unable yet to face Lily, or…or Harry.

Please don’t let me have killed Harry.

I find I’m still as prone to pain and general hurting. Falling off the side of a cliff, for example, while trying to discover if one can fly. (Okay, so it was more of a graceful leap. I flew until I hit the floor, as an old friend may once have said.) And I’ve learned that while there are spells to help SLOW the fall, they don’t remove the overall agony of impact.

Lesson learned.

I’ve also discovered that one can’t necessarily breathe under water.

So I’ve been bored. Forgive me.

But I think my own self pity is even starting to bore me. I’ve never been this focused on one thing for so long (Lily not withstanding of course). So I’ve decided…decided to return. To see if I can seek out Lily, or Dumbledore…perhaps discover someone who I knew to tell me what occurred in that horrible thing known as after. To learn what became of life after I stopped living. Part of me claims that I know...part of me fears I’ve gone insane in this solitude. (I can hear you all laughing, laughing I say! Inside my head! GET OUT OF MY BRAIN!)

Well, to whomever I so know who reads this or responds, c’est la vie…or perhaps that is c’est la morte?


Yours forever (I suppose without throwing dung bombs at angels, drat that now apparently impossible plan),
James Potter.

PS. Does anyone know where I can find some chocolate frogs? Or pie?

[Private]
Note to self:
FIRE STILL BURNS
[/PRIVATE]

[Private]
If two negatives make a positive, then if I die while dead, will I live? Great questions of the universe. I should have been a philosopher![/private]

(My verbosity astounds me! Apparently, solitude has done nothing to sway my talkative...er...writer...er...ness....)