Chapter Text
February 17th, 1976
Oh, so dearest uncle,
I am, of course, giving you the latest bavardage, as promised, or maybe just because my brethren have all found activities that somehow don't include me (I know, it sounds impossible, I doubt they're having any fun without me). Firstly, I must say something about the book you just so "smoothly" recommended to me (smoothly is in quotations because it was practically you winking as you summarized the story). I have seen through your disguise, uncle, and I am still perfectly fine with admitting to you I enjoyed it. I haven't read another like it, although I'm sure you know that. I found it relatable. Do with that information as you wish.
Secondly, I and Reg are managing just fine. Although, I figured you'd guessed so by the sheer fact that I didn't put it firstly in the letter. I have, as you've feared but also probably expected, been causing my dear mother a great number of headaches, which satisfies me so much I won't even pretend I have a drop of respect left for her in my great mass of a brain. Her letters, which I have begun calling "howlers", have not yet decreased in quantity, but have decreased in value. There are only so many ways you can call your son a disgrace that would make reading a letter feel less of a chore. Look at her, managing to take the fun out of yet another thing she touches. Fucking letters. To be frank, Reg begs me day and night to quit ignoring them and be "smart", but he secretly takes satisfaction, the smug bastard.
School's alright. James's new "pet" as it seems, that weird reptile he found in the forest near school, turns out to be a lizard! And a female one, which let's be frank here, is so much better than a male. Names have not been declared yet, but requests are being taken, so have your pick. Jamie suggested Olga, which is absolutely unacceptable, but the bar is extremely low at this point, so throw in a few suggestions. Preferably no space terminology, that would be extremely appreciated.
Peter claims I send you way too many letters, but he himself sends at least four to his parents every week. He thinks he's being smug about it. He will make a terrible spy.
Yours always, Sirius.
February 26th, 1976
Dear stranger named Sirius,
I am afraid I am not your uncle last I checked. And as far as I have searched, there isn't a person here that has a nephew named Sirius. It's a peculiar name, I will admit, but I have seen odder. Much odder, believe me.
I have tried tracking down the person this letter has been intended for but to no avail. I thought I should inform you so you don't worry about your uncle, as I see it he is a healthy chap living his best uncle life. What do uncles do on a daily, anyway?
But I did read your whole letter and I am sorry if it was private. As an avid book appreciator, I just must ask what that book that you've read recently is, because "never read anything like it" perfectly fits my criteria. I am bored of "dreamy women" falling in love with a wealthy man who isn't actually described as to be working for his money, and later finding out what we all knew from the beginning and that is that he is a downright dick. (I don't usually use such profanities in my letters, but since you allowed yourself one to express your immense dislike for your mother, I must do the same for these poor excuses of men.)
I am very sorry about your mother, she seems like a very unpleasant woman if that makes you feel better. I have a very annoying chemistry teacher Professor Carrow, who I'm pretty sure has a second job that is still tied to his current one but is just a tad bit more illegal. Did you know chemistry is, in fact, quite a useful thing to be a master in? I am still rubbish at it, I must admit.
Anyway, hope you find your uncle and he gets the letter himself. I will resend it alongside this one so it's a bit easier.
P.S. You said nothing is worse than Olga. Well, may I suggest Derfla for your reptile friend? It sounds quite lovely.
Greetings - stranger.