The Marauders Guide on How to Have a Good Time At Hogwarts - Story Edition

We are not allowed to give tattoos.

"I'm going to become a tattoo artist," Sirius announced proudly, as he sat on his bed with his pillow held firmly in his lap.

None of the others in the room replied.

He turned to see what each of them were doing, unclear why they were paying attention to something other than him, when clearly he was the most interesting thing in the room.

Remus and Peter were huddled over a book, discussing in low tones an assignment they had to turn in the next day. It was something that Peter had procrastinated doing, and then begged for Remus' help to complete at the last minute.

James had several papers sprawled out on his bed, pouring over them with an intense amount of concentration.

Sirius suspected that they were his plans for Quidditch this upcoming year, as he took his captaincy very seriously.

"You guys," Sirius whined with a huff, "Was anyone even listening to me?"

"Of course," Remus answered without a beat, "You're going to try to give people tattoos."

"Not try," Sirius corrected, "Succeed."

James snorted in response, "Hate to break it to ya, Padfoot, but there's a lot more to giving tattoos than just drawing on someone's skin."

"Psht," Sirius waved his hand dismissively, "It can't be that difficult."

Remus and James looked up from their books, shooting each other a knowing look before returning to their tasks.

"In fact, I'm going to start right now!" Sirius decided, jumping up from his spot and looking around.

Realizing that it was well after midnight, and most everyone else would be asleep, he plopped back down on his bed and revised, "On second thought, I believe I will be much more successful in the morning."

"Sure you will," James answered placating.

Sirius folded his arms and pouted.

He'd prove him wrong.

-
Sirius stepped back proudly as he looked at his entire set-up.

It was perfect.

He had a chair for his client to sit on to receive their tattoo and a stool with wheels for him to do his work on.

He sat on the stool with a satisfied sigh, turning to the unsuspecting fourth year who was waiting patiently.

"Alright, then," Sirius said, reaching over to grab his needles in the sleek black leather case they had arrived In just the day before. Not wanting to waste any time, he had special ordered them from a shop in Knockturn Alley, paying extra for it to be delivered immediately, "Let's get started, Marvin."

"It's Martin," the young boy replied immediately, his once assured gaze suddenly turning nervous.

"Sure, sure," Sirius answered, waving his mistake away, "And you wanted a kneazle on your leg?"

"A dragon," he corrected, his eyes wide as they turned to look at the other boys in the room, "I wanted a dragon on my arm. Not my leg."

"Of course you do," Sirius cooed.

He shot a smirk at James who merely rolled his eyes in response, but his slight quirk of his lips showed he was amused.

Sirius took a deep breath, knowing this was his moment to prove himself.

To finally live his dream.

He unzipped the bag slowly, taking the moment to appreciate the tone of the zipper in the nearly quiet boy's dorm room.