Behind These Hazel Eyes

You, James Potter, King of Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, the finest institution of magic in Europe (whatever that means, there are quite a few big words in that sentence) walk nonchalantly down the hallway. You grin at random girls and occasionally at a Slytherin, laughing internally as they glare nastily back at you. Life is going well. You are on your way to Quidditch practice, which is in a half-hour, taking a few detours as you go. After, a half-hour is a very long time, especially if it is the last half-hour of History of Magic.

You saunter along the Charms corridor, replaying last night's break-up in your head. Instead of feeling sad and depressed, you are elated. You, my friend, would burst out laughing if you weren't so mature and adult-ish.

She stood in front of you, tears spilling down her cheeks, brown curls falling limp, and looking pretty much dreadful as you broke the news to her. It was time you moved on, you explained. The relationship was going nowhere. She broke into frustrated sobs, asking you were things had gone wrong in between blowing bogeys into her hankie. You assured her it wasn't her fault, but yours. She didn't seem to notice as you spouted clichés like something that regularly walked about spouting clichés. She just ran off to the Girls' Dormitory, that place of mystery and intrigue, bawling about how you are such a pig-headed jerk and how she never wanted to talk to you again. You shrugged. It really was her, not you. As if you could ever be the problem. You are perfect.

You pass a supposedly empty classroom, when you hear something. Looking in, you see said ex-girlfriend being snogged to within an inch of her life by your best friend, Sirius. He catches you watching, then gives you that wink, that Sorry-mate-couldn't-help-myself wink. You chuckle and move along. Padfoot was never one to mourn a loss; especially if it was yours.

You continue along the corridor, dodging enchanted trashbins and the like, humming a random tune. You've never even heard it before, but it is quite a toe-tapper. Fittingly, you stop to tap your toe. Passerby stare at you like some hot, mad person doing hot, mad things.

You continue on your stroll, not really aware of the girls stalking you like a cheetah stalks a fluffy baby gazelle. Wait, hairy baby gazelle. Last you checked, gazelles are not fluffy, but hairy. Bunnies are fluffy. Or chocolately. Depending on the time of year, bunnies can also be drenched in gravy and stuffing. You lift a tapestry and walk through the hidden passageway behind it, vaguely remembering something about gazelles.

You are now strolling down the staircase, and you notice Wormtail is stuck in the trick step at the bottom, wiggling about and flapping his arms in a desperate attempt to look stupid. It is working. You stop to laugh at him in a very friendly way and tug him out. He thanks you with an admiring look, which you have come to expect from that lower-status rabble, and he promptly turns around to head up the stairs. He falls in again. You keep walking. One can only take so much of this maturity and adult-ish-ness.

Turning into the Transfiguration corridor, you again run into those hardly stealthy stalkers. You convince yourself to forget all about the bunnies and gazelles and instead focus on looking very sexy as you walk by. It works. A bold fifth year Hufflepuff tells you that you have a very cute butt that just won't quit. You grin. The cheetahs (remember them?) melt into a pool of feminine, lipglossy cheetah-ness, and you are glad to note that there are no baby gazelles around.

Moony comes dashing up to you, his Prefect badge gleaming in a very gleaming-ish way. He explains that the reason for your cheerfulness is that you have been hit by a Cheerfulness Charm. That Moony and his crazy ideas. Everything else he says blurs together, and you are vaguely aware that he is looking slightly ill. You note silently that the full moon that is steadily approaching, and that full moons have nothing to do with gazelles.

You are suddenly accosted by green eyes and a spitfire temper. She stands next to Moony, her Prefect badge gleaming just as brightly. Lily, incidentally, is neither a cheetah, gazelle, or bunny, but an innocent duck-billed platypus, flopping happily along and watching the conflict between the cheetah and gazelle and wondering what in the world bunnies have to do with anything. You stop for a moment to sort out all these confusing thoughts.

Lily and Moony quickly exchange words (which doesn't make sense, since Moony is clearly not a platypus and therefore does not speak platypus language) and then come to some sort of dramatic decision. Lily whacks you on the head with her wand and says some sort of spell. Suddenly, you don't feel so giddy. You try to kiss Lily as thanks, but she smacks you and walks off, Moony at her side. Grumpily, you stroll along the corridor, your mind on more important things than platypuses.

You now have somehow ended up on the staircase to the dungeons. This is very confusing. But you keep walking; feeling something important must be done about those poor gazelles. On cue, a small herd of young cheetahs approach, the smallest holding a lovely looking cake. She blushes like something that blushes a lot and hands it to you (the cake, not the blush. Is that even possible?) You smile and take a bite of the cake, feeling very hungry for something other than gravy-drenched bunnies. Suddenly, your head is filled with the face of the smallest cheetah and her name, Isabeau du Escargot (it's actually du Esquire, but Escargot rhymes) echoes through your mind. Your brain clutches onto that valuable piece of information for company, because it gets very lonely up there in your skull with no one to talk to. But you remember that brains can't talk, and wonder why all you can think of are cheetahs and snails.

You briefly wonder why Dumbledore has turned Hogwarts into a zoo.

Isabeau du Snails asks you if you would take her to Hogsmeade. You shout down the hallways about how precious her love is and buying her all of Great Britain and maybe a fluffy bunny, then bid her farewell and trot down the dungeon stairs without really knowing why. You have heard there are snakes in the dungeon.

The last thing you remember before waking up in the Hospital Wing is a black-haired boy jumping out from behind a statue and hexing you, shouting something about bud traders smolder-mores. You realize that smolder-mores must be the real name for s'mores. Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail all look at you very worriedly like there is something to look worried about. They ask you what had happened. You tell them about the cheetahs and bunnies and Isabeau du Snails and smolder-mores. After exchanging very silly looks with the other two, Moony hits you very hard on the head with a book and everything goes black.

You are still worried about the bunnies.