Presented as the contents of an old shoebox under Remus Lupin's bed, The Shoebox Project tells the story of Marauders-era Hogwarts through letters, photographs, and diary entries.
"This story will lift you up and make your life a little better, and...
Part Eight: Mid-February, 1976 Six Pictures of Lily, Two Dates, Four Boxes of Chocolate, And Five Almost Valentine’s Day Cards.
Taken and collected by one James Potter in the first half of his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and later referred to as The Stalking File.
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"Potter, take your face out of that chair, you don't know where it's been." Sirius flips a page in his book, rocking his chair back on two legs with both feet thunked on the table, a position which every professor in the world decries.
"Mmpsuh mmmph," comes James's muffled moan from within the cushions.
"Sorry, mate, I don't speak pathetic bastard. Come again?" James, suffering from an obviously indescribable woe, has been in that bloody chair for about ten minutes, having stumbled in, given them a look of immense affliction, and finally having collapsed to his knees on the floor, face saved only by a brocade cushion. Sirius knows James well enough to know that he's just waiting for someone to ask him what's the matter, and that it will drive him mad not to be asked. Sirius crosses his legs, idly scratching the heel of his boot against the shining wood, and hears Remus make a small noise of pain from the next chair.
"I said 'What's the point?'" James emerges from the cushions, hair more insane than usual and rather red in the face from shortness of breath. "I might just as well die here as anywhere."
"I'm so glad you two came back from break. I've missed your incredible predictability." Remus scribbles something down on a piece of parchment and gnaws on his quill.
"Don't lump me in with him," Peter protests. There is a definite smugness in his voice that Sirius catches immediately and is strangely intrigued by. "We're in totally different categories, Prongs and me."
"Oh, do go on, Wormtail, they all love to laugh at my pain," James snorts bitterly.
"Tell them why we're in different categories. Please. I, for one, would love to hear it again."
