Chapter Text
Remus John Lupin can hardly believe his luck. Then he wishes he'd never heard of the name Albus Dumbledore, or the magical school of Hogwarts.
When the thick, yellow envelope bearing a red wax emblem arrived one morning, Remus hardly knew what to make of it; he'd never received much post in his name before then, nor anything quite so official looking but his father reacted with excitement at the sight of it, so much so that is was hard for Remus to be anything other than excited too.
Of course, that was all quickly done away with the longer that letter sat on their mantelpiece, bearing the list of appropriate school items and an invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It began to feel like a burden instead, growing heavier each day. It showed in the strain in his father's face, in the murmured conversations his parents had when he was in bed and they thought he couldn't hear them, his mother's quiet sobs.
"How would they manage it, Lyall? It's a boarding school, there are other students there. Remus is - he's -"
"I know, I know. Dumbledore said he would visit, he said it's all taken care of. He wants to assure Remus personally. Strictly speaking, my love, I'd like to be reassured myself."
Remus had heard of Hogwarts, naturally. It had been a curiosity for as long as he can remember, his desire to know more burning even as he lay and listened to the worries of his mother and father from beneath his bed sheets. He knows magic can be a deadly thing, that it can sneak into your house and put fire in your bones and blood on your teeth with the fullness of the moon, and fills you with such loathing to make you wish that there was no such thing as magic at all.
But Remus knows it can be wonderful, too.
His father had attended in his youth, shared stories of ghosts and house cups and magnificent feasts with a bittersweet tang on his tongue; he wanted to tell Remus all about Hogwarts, he wanted to never breathe a word. He thought Remus would never be allowed to follow in his footsteps, not after the incident. Lyall Lupin feels responsible. He feels guilty. He can hardly look at Remus without a wash of regret for his run in with Fenrir Greyback and a yearning to turn back time for his mistake, for ruining his son's life irrevocably beyond a chance of repair. How can he ever look back at his own school days with fondness and sweet sighs of nostalgia knowing he has denied Remus the very same thing?
"Oh, but if anyone should find out - I couldn't bear for Remus to face that, I just can't."
His father's voice sounded tired and stretched thin. "Dumbledore swore it wouldn't be a problem. I trust him, love. In the wizarding world, Albus Dumbledore is a name you can rely on."
"I wish I had that confidence, Lyall."
Albus Dumbledore keeps to his word. He arrives a month before the school year starts, pockets spilling over with sherbet lemons and dressed head to toe in rich purple; the sight of him in their home beside the pile of dirty wellington boots and sweeping into the tiny sitting room after his father is enough to render Remus quite speechless.
He shows Remus those wonderful things that magic can do, ten times more extraordinary than anything Remus has seen before, and makes promises that he is as welcome at Hogwarts as any other student before and after him. He is a marvel to Remus, instantaneously turning his head with possibilities and a kindness he rarely feels from anyone except his parents. Remus looks into Albus Dumbledore's eyes and thinks he will never see a more interesting face, nor a more sincere one; he decides that if this is the sort of person Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has to offer, the least he could do is try.
His mother is a little less easy to persuade.
"I'm sure you received our letter? Remus has always been homeschooled ever since - since his accident. I'm worried it could all be too much for him, he's not had the chance to be around people his own age..."
Dumbledore patiently sips at the tea cup his father held out for him on his arrival, staring over his half-moon glasses at Remus and his mother beside him with measured thoughtfulness.
"I can assure you, we have made all the necessary arrangements so that Remus' time at Hogwarts will be as wholesome and enjoyable as his peers. If Remus were to ever feel overwhelmed by the experience, I - along with his head of house, I should say - will be more than willing to sit down and talk with him about his concerns. You may have my word on that, Mr Lupin." Dumbledore adds, nodding in Remus' direction.
"Yes, but Mr. Dumbledore, what about the moon - " Mrs Lupin breaks off and glances at Remus with a skittish look in her eyes. "Darling, why don't you go and have one of those biscuits we made earlier, hmm? Perhaps you can bring Mr. Dumbledore some?"
Remus unwillingly leaves the fascinating company of Dumbledore and retreats to the much more monotonous comfort of the kitchen, losing track of the conversation and only catching snippets as he removes the biscuits from the cooling rack and onto a chipped plate. Remus is an unassuming but attentive boy, reading situations better than most adults would. He knows his mother wishes to speak to Albus Dumbledore alone, so removes himself from the room until the headmaster is all but ready to leave.
When he eventually makes his way back into the front room, clutching a plate of neatly stacked biscuits, Dumbledore is standing up and smoothing wrinkles from the front of his robes.
"Ah, Mr. Lupin! I'm afraid you return just as I must go - would you indulge an old man and please accompany me to the door?"
Remus looks over at his mother, who is relatively calmer and appeased than before Dumbledore's visit, and catches the encouraging nod of her head, her hand seeking her husband's on her shoulder.
Together, he walks with Dumbledore through the small hallway and out onto the porch step, momentarily silent as they watch a lone bird fly overhead in the pale blue sky. Remus still holds the plate of biscuits, unsure whether to offer one now that he is leaving.
"Your mother wants the best for you, Remus." Dumbledore begins, turning to look down at him with a small, gentle smile. "I believe you will make an excellent addition to our school - that is, if you wish to attend. Our arrangements for your condition have been taken care of with the utmost attention; I hope you find them to be agreeable. I can only strongly urge you to consider and nothing more, the choice lies with you alone."
Out of his parents’ earshot, Remus speaks the words he would never dare to before them.
"But what if the other children make fun of me? I'm different. What if they don't like me?"
Albus' face softens, his eyes twinkling. "You have faced a great deal of hardship for one so young. Do not think that it makes you any less of a person than I am, Mr. Lupin. You will always find friends at Hogwarts, I can promise you that much. Goodbye for now, Remus."
Remus finds he can no longer hold his gaze and drops it instead to the plate of biscuits, a thought occuring to him as he hears the crunch of gravel as Dumbledore makes his way down the garden path.
"Wait! Mr. Dumbledore!"
Albus Dumbledore turns, politely expectant.
"Do you - do you want a biscuit?"
Dumbledore raises an eyebrow in surprise, chuckles and accepts one from the plate, "Perhaps I shall have one - for the road, as they say."
Remus watches Albus Dumbledore quietly snap the gate behind him as he leaves, purple robes swirling in a neat pirouette as he disappears into thin air. Everything slips back into being ordinary again, as if nothing incredible has happened; inside the house, Remus can hear the sounds of plates being set at the table, his father humming a tuneless song from the living room, ready to pick up their daily routine.
He loves his life, for the most part. He loves his parents, and their quiet mornings together, and the gentle pace in which they pass their days. He likes learning things from them and knowing that it's okay to get things wrong sometimes, and the closeness they have developed from being around each other every day.
But Remus is lonely. He craves friendship and the chance to feel like everybody else his age. He wonders at Dumbledore's promise of friends at Hogwarts and the opportunity seems too momentous to pass up. Remus decides that he is tired of his version of ordinary.
He's ready to try something new.
***
There's too much noise here for Remus. There's mewing and croaking and screeching and shouting, whistling and crying all assaulting his ears at once. Remus feels small and inconsequential on the long stretch of Platform Nine & Three Quarters, a tide of strangers threatening to flood the safe harbour of his little family.
"I don't think I want to go anymore, I want to stay home with you." Remus confesses, looking between the anxious faces of his parents.
His father drops onto one knee, hands heavy but comforting on Remus' shoulders. He feels the fingers there squeeze gently as his father leans in close to whisper, as if letting Remus in on a great secret.
"I know it feels scary right now." his father says softly, already lined eyes crinkling further when he smiles. "But you're going to be a great wizard, Remus, I know you will be. I look at you and do you know what I feel?"
Remus shakes his head, no.
"Pride." his father tells him simply. "Never doubt how proud I am of you. I count myself fortunate every day for having you. Hogwarts is going to teach you so many amazing, unbelievable things and you're going to take to it all like a duck to water."
"You'll be marvellous, darling!" his mother chips in, beaming widely. "You can write to me every day about all the things you're learning."
"I'd rather be with you." Remus whimpers, starting to attract curious glances. "I just want everything to stay as it is!"
"Darling," his mother says calmly, kneeling down too, taking no care of her freshly pressed trousers - a special effort for their visit to London. "Darling, you only feel this way because it's new and you feel like you're thrown in at the deep end. I know exactly how you're feeling."
Remus tilts his head, dubious. "You do?"
"Of course! When I first met your father and he told me he could do magic, I thought he was completely off his rocker. When I found out it was all true, why - I had to learn everything you already know! It was dizzying and riveting and - oh, Remus, I know you're going to love it."
Remus stares up at the gleaming scarlet steam engine, at the faces pressed into its windows and the arms flung out for last minute goodbyes. He hitches his bag up higher on his shoulder and stands a little straighter.
"Are you ready, son?" his father asks with a smile that says he already knows the answer.
"I'm ready."
His parents walk him to the nearest carriage, helping him up onto the Hogwarts Express. Behind him, other children are bustling about excitedly, squeezing by him as he says goodbye to his mother and father.
"If you ever need anything, all you have to do is write, darling." his mother tells him. "And try not to worry too much. Everything is going to be fine.
"We love you so much, Remus." his father says, watery eyed and beaming. "Don't forget to have fun."
A loud whistle rises above all the noise, the doors of the train begin swinging shut of their own accord. Through the window, Remus watches his parents wave, trying not to panic as the train begins to pull away from the platform. He waits until his mother and father shrink away into nothing before he starts to look for a compartment; he has never been alone before, he has no idea what he's doing and the realisation almost topples him.
Every compartment he passes is full, the occupants already talking and forming acquaintances. He walks the length of the train searching for somewhere he would feel comfortable sitting but every time he stops at a door, he can't build up enough nerve to walk in and ask if he'd be welcome.
"This is stupid, Remus." he mutters to himself after half an hour of pacing the train. He peers inside the closest compartment, finding only two students in there. He steels himself. "Just open the door, you can do this."
He knocks before entering, not letting himself wait a second longer. The students look up, a boy who must be another first year and an older boy. They both have the same mop of dirty blonde hair and Remus surmises that they have to be related.
"Can I sit in here with you? The whole train is full and - "
"Of course. He can sit with us, can't he, Michael?"
The older boy nods and goes back to staring out of the window. Remus shuffles into the compartment and chooses the seat next to the door. He tells himself it's not in case of a quick escape if his new companions turn out to be a terrible decision on his part; he won't spend the journey sitting out in the corridor on his own. He won't.
"Michael is just mad because our mum made him sit with me on the way instead of his friends. It's my first year but Michael is going to be a third year." the boy explains, his sandy head nodding as he talks. "I'm Jeremy."
"Remus."
They lapse into an awkward few minutes of silence before Jeremy perks up again.
"Given any thought to what house you'll be in?"
Truth be told, Remus had never thought about it until that second. "My dad told me he was in Ravenclaw. Maybe I'll end up there?"
Jeremy carries on nodding, his head bopping up and down fast. Remus wonders if he'll ever stop. "It usually runs in the family. My brother is a Hufflepuff and my mum was before him. I can't wait to get there, I've heard loads of stories - I bet you have too, huh?"
"Uh - my dad sometimes mentioned - "
"I've heard there are merpeople living in the lake. Pretty neat, right?"
Jeremy, now apparent to Remus, is a great talker; this suits Remus just fine because he was starting to find out that conversation alluded him. Jeremy fills up the majority of their time on the train; he tells Remus all about what he knows of Hogwarts, of the place he was born, the day he got his letter and then everything in between. Even Michael stirs occasionally to offer his own tales, describing the vastness of the Great Lake for his brother's benefit, the sorts of lessons and its teachers for Remus.
By the time the Trolley Witch has come and gone - Jeremy resolute on sharing his pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans with Remus - they're more than comfortable with one another.
"Have you tried the green one, Remus? I swear it was bogey - yours is apple? I guess that's my rotten luck, isn't it?"
"Jer, we're pulling into Hogsmeade now. I'm going to go find my friends, okay?" Michael says, stretching his arms over his head. "You'll be going across the lake on boats so I won't see you until the Sorting. Good luck - you too, Remus."
Remus is sad to see Michael go. He found the presence of someone older than him quite calming and now, they have to fend for themselves.
"Come on, Remus, everyone is getting off."
Together, he and Jeremy step out on the drizzly platform. Everybody around them seems to tower over them, none more so than the man calling out to first years. He wades through the sea of students, waving a lantern above his head.
"Firs' years, this way! Come on, budge along!"
Remus would never say so but he's never seen any person quite so large. The man looks down at them with shining black eyes, a wide smile mostly obscured by his thick beard. He seems cheerful enough so Remus offers a tiny smile of his own, having to tip his head all the way back for the man to see his face.
"Firs' years? Follow me!"
They follow the man, collecting a few more straggling students on their way to a line of boats awaiting them at the edge of a large black lake. Michael certainly hadn't been exaggerating in his descriptions; the body of water stretched out before them into the night, so dark that you can't see where the sky begins and the water ends. At the other edge, thousands of twinkling lights shine like beacons in greeting - windows, Remus discerns.
"Climb on in, four ter a boat! No pushin', room enough for yer all!"
The journey across the lake is smooth, if a little damp from the rain. The closer they come to the castle, the more the scale of its grandeur dawns on Remus. It's breathtaking; turrets upon turrets, blue tinged stone in the moonlight and peppered with flickering candlelight, a lone owl glides across the crescent moon. Remus wants to stare at it forever.
"Alrigh', one at a time now. Don' want yer fallin' in, see?" the giant man instructs, helping them out of their boats in turn. "Beg yer pardon, I forgot to introduce m'self - Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper and Keeper o' the Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts, at yer service."
Jeremy prods Remus in the ribs and indicates to the boats and the lake beyond, "That was something, wasn't it, Remus?"
When they are all once again settled on dry land, Hagrid steers them through a passageway lined with brackets crackling merrily with fire. It's all so new and daunting, and although Remus is lucky enough to have an inkling of what awaits them, he has to clamp his lips together to keep his teeth from chattering.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I shall take over from this point."
An imposing witch stands at the top of a short flight of stairs before oak doors, dressed in emerald green and casting a dissecting eye over the newest residents of Hogwarts. Remus knows enough of people to recognise that this is a woman who shouldn't be tried; he shrinks at the sight of her, hoping he'll never get on her bad side during his time here.
"My name is Minerva McGonagall. You shall address me as Professor while you are studying here, " she begins, her glance sweeping over them all. "We look forward to having you here and hope you uphold our exceptional standards. If you excuse me, I will see if they are ready for you."
She slips trough the heavy doors; they can hear the murmuring of a large gathering of people on the other side and Remus' knees begin to buckle. What was he thinking coming here? He should have stayed at home with his mother and father where he was safe. He makes an effort to control his breathing, ignoring Jeremy who won't stop muttering to him under his breath.
Professor McGonagall reappears, adjusting her spectacles. The room behind her has gone deadly quiet. "It's time. If you may, follow me - two rows, please." she orders, marching through the vast doors without looking back to see if they are walking after her.
Remus gulps but manages to get his feet to move, although the rest of his body feels entirely numb. They come through into the Great Hall and Remus can't even appreciate the ceiling glittering above them with stars and swirling clouds because it's taking everything in him to focus on his steps.
Their group comes to a halt in front of a single stool and a grubby hat - the Sorting Hat, Remus recalls. He tries not to think about the whole school sitting just behind him.
"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and I shall place the Hat onto your head. You will then be Sorted and shall proceed to take your place at the appropriate table." Professor McGonagall informs them, holding a scroll of parchment in her hand. "Allen, Kenneth."
The Hat, it transpires, will not be rushed into making its decisions. Some students come and go before they can get settled on the stool. Others are forced to wait anxiously, hands gripping the side of the stool, as the Hat mulls over the contents of their head.
It's a jittery process for those waiting their turn. Remus doesn't know how much time has passed since they entered the hall but he starts to feel exposed in their rapidly dwindling pack. Jeremy is being unnaturally silent beside him, and Remus is at least a little relieved to realise that he's not alone in his apprehension.
"Leek, Jeremy."
Jeremy jumps at the sound of his name and races up to the stool, not even waiting for McGonagall to place the Hat on his head herself. He holds onto the brim of the Hat with an admirable determination until -
"Hufflepuff!"
Remus watches Jeremy seat himself at his house table, immediately lost within the shifting bodies of his fellow Hufflepuffs as they reach out to greet him. Now all on his own, Remus begins to feel sick.
Professor McGongall clears her throat to regain attention, "Lupin, Remus."
The nausea doubles and it takes a moment for him to summon the courage to make towards the stool. He casts a longing glance at the Hufflepuff table as he passes by, thinking that if he could at least be sorted into there, he'd know one person and it wouldn't be so bad. Jeremy, seated beside his brother, gives him a friendly thumbs up.
"I can do it." he thinks to himself. "I can do it."
Remus mounts the first step - and trips. He trips in front of the whole school and wishes the ground would eat him up even as he pushes himself to go on; he can hear a few titters from the hall behind him, a sardonic snort, and then the severe shushing of a teacher.
He chances a peek at the staff table, instantly catching the twinkling blue eye of Albus Dumbledore, who inclines his head ever so slightly as if in encouragement.
With a deep breath, Remus hoists himself up onto the stool, wishing that his feet wouldn't dangle so uselessly below him; it makes him feel younger than he is, it makes him feel helpless. The rest of the school watch furtively as the Sorting Hat slips over his entire face, the scent now filling his nostrils musty but not altogether unpleasant.
"Ah," a voice mutters in his ears. "I see, I see. Quite conflicted for such a young mind..."
Remus automatically tries to clear his head of thoughts, jumping a little when the hat speaks again.
"There's no use in that, I see everything right here. All your hopes...dreams...fears..."
Remus waits, breathes, trying to calm his hammering heart. He tells himself that he deserves to be here, he remembers Dumbledore's words from his visit, he remembers the way he felt before boarding the train, of stepping into the unknown for the first time. He's no longer a boy standing at the edge of a life he's always wanted: he's living it.
"Ah, there it is. I know exactly where to put you...GRYFFINDOR!"
The noise that erupts from the table where the Gryffindors are seated is deafening. Remus almost stumbles back into the stool when he jumps off of it, the cheering is so loud. His feet move without command and when Remus falls onto the bench, suddenly converged by claps on the back and strangers hands wringing his own, he sees another first year amidst all of the din.
The boy seems to be already bored of the ceremony, his scruff of dark waves falling into his eyes as he idly fiddles with the spoon in front of him. Remus thinks it strange that the boy can act as if all of this doesn't matter to him; he can't stop looking around and taking it in, he has to keep from pinching himself, from gawking at all these new faces.
Unburdened from the anticipation of waiting to be Sorted, Remus is free to relax and watch the rest of the ceremony. He claps just as loudly as the rest of his house when new members join them at their table and excitedly scans the rest of the Great Hall, taking in his home for the next seven years.
The last name is called - the final Ravenclaw of the year - and Dumbledore stands, tapping the side of his goblet with his wand. The students fall silent, craning their necks to gaze up at the headmaster.
"Welcome, new and old! I trust that after a little time away, you are all eager to resume your studies. I have just a few words before we indulge ourselves in our excellent feast: I am sorry to harangue you all over this detail but alas, I must repeat myself once more; students are absolutely prohibited from entering the Forbidden Forest. It is residence to many a magical creature who respect our shared home and I ask that you pay them back in kind. Also, our caretaker Mr. Filch would like to stress that dungbombs, though exceedingly good fun, are not permitted within school perimeters. Any student found in possession of such an item shall be duly disciplined."
Dumbledore surveys the waiting crowd with a pleasant smile, "Now that formalities are out of the way, one last thing: enjoy!"
The golden plates and platters laid out along the entire length of the table are suddenly filled with more food than Remus has ever seen in his life. Every hand reaches out to stake their claim and Remus can't help but grab one of everything. He listens enthusiatically to the chatter of his fellow Gryffindors but keeps his head down, overwhelmed by the non-stop rush of jokes and catching up and friendly greetings.
By the time the Prefect stands up at the end of the feast and calls out to all the first years to gather around, Remus is yet to speak to a single soul. He lurks at the back of the group and absorbs his surroundings, gaping in wonder at the portraits scrabbling to catch a glimpse of the new students, head spinning at the magnificent moving staircase which goes higher than he can see.
The higher they go, the quieter the castle grows as voices fade to a mere echo below. Just when Remus' legs start to stiffen from their relentless climbing, the Prefect stops them before a portrait of a lady in a pink silk gown. He introduces her to the new students and she inclines her head in acknowledgement, her low throaty voice uttering a single word.
"Password?"
"Carpe Noctem."
The portrait swings forwards, revealing a brightly lit passageway. "Enter."
They all clamber in after one another, keeping together in a closely knit pack. Remus manages to get the impression of a roaring fire, cosy wingback armchairs in obligatory red and gold, and intricate tapestries bearing lions hung from the walls before two older students accost them as they cluster into the middle of the room.
"Ooooh, fresh blood. Hey, have you told them about Nearly Headless Nick yet?" asks the taller of the two. She beams down at them in welcome, her school tie already pulled off and slung over her shoulder, shoes lost to the common room.
One first year is brave enough to speak up, "Who's Nearly Headless Nick?"
"He's our ghost. Hufflepuff have the Fat Friar, Ravenclaw have the Grey Lady, Slytherins get the Bloody Baron - rather them than us though."
The short one flops down into one of the armchairs, tucking her feet beneath herself. "If you don't spin in a circle three times and clap your hands while standing on your head, Nick'll hover over you while you sleep and recreate the day he was beheaded - "
The first years gasp in horror and clutch at each other, wide eyed with fear. Remus has never seen a ghost before; he finds himself gazing about the room with interest, wondering what a ghost with a severed head would look like.
"Technically nearly beheaded." the tall girl corrects, grinning when the Prefect rolls his eyes and pushes her away.
"He will not. Please, Nick might occasionally come into the common room but it's rare we find him in here." the Prefect lowers his voice and leans in, as if afraid the ghost will descend upon them at any moment. "Just maybe keep an eye out for him when he does show up - he just won't stop talking about that bloody Headless Hunt. I tell you, I'm absolutely sick of hearing about it. He just goes on and on and - what was that, Connie? Oh, yes - ahem - first years, if you just look here, these staircases will lead you to your dormitories. Why don't you get yourselves acquainted with the common room before everyone else arrives - "
Remus is the first to reach his dormitory, slipping away early from the group for a quiet moment of reprieve and explore in solitude.
The room is large and circular, every inch covered in smooth stone and tapestry, safe and comforting, wrapping him in a bubble of tranquility. All the school trunks have already been brought up but Remus doesn't bother with his yet, only locates his bag and pulls out a chocolate, popping it into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully looking around the dormitory, silently impressed and approving.
It's peaceful, the quietness reminding him of home. He feels a dreadful pang of longing for his parents at that, eats another chocolate, then another. Remus drifts to the window and places his bag on the nearby bed, thinking how he'd enjoy being so near a place where he can look out at the night sky without fear. Outside, an owl hoots serenely. It might even be easy to love the moon living here.
"I've already claimed that."
Remus starts, not having heard anyone enter the room. It's the boy from the feast, the one who was bored. Up close and with his full attention fixed on Remus, he seems to be lit from within, a defiant fierceness. Remus has to fight not to squint looking at him, squirming under the intensity of his steel grey gaze, an authority in his gait that demands respect.
"S-sorry?"
The boy gestures at the four poster bed near the window, the one where Remus' bag lies atop of. "The bed. It's mine." His voice is distinctly polished, clipped, and very upper class. It has a way of making Remus think that he is snapping his fingers at him without actually doing it. Remus has never heard a voice like this in real life.
Remus suddenly wishes, as he often does, for his mother's beautiful lilting Welsh accent. She has a knack of calming people, making even the most mundane of sentences sound like a song. Instead, Remus' accent is a muddle of English and Welsh, a product of their constant moving around after he was bitten.
"It is? I didn't realise - there was no trunk on it, I just thought - "
"I claimed it before I even got here. As soon as I got on the train, I declared that the bed closest to the window - if there were any windows at all - shall be mine. It's just the way it is." he explains with an air of inherited bossiness, kicking his shoes off and hurling them under the bed.
"Oh, okay. I'll move over there..."
"It's nothing personal, you know. I just already planned it. " the boy says breezily, moving to where Remus had previously stood at the window. "You're that boy who tripped, aren't you? I'm Sirius, by the way. Sirius Black." he adds, staring pointedly as if waiting for Remus to react to his introduction. He speaks as if his name means something.
Before Remus can blink, the dormitory door opens with a loud creak, so loud that Remus can't believe he hadn't heard it before and a boy with glasses too big for his face and truly unruly hair marches into the room. He doesn't say a word, only locates his school trunk and hoists it up with both hands, dumping it unceremoniously onto the bed closest to the door, the glasses on his bony nose slipping down slightly.
"Make yourself at home, by all means." Sirius pipes up, finally gaining the attention of the boy.
"Black." the boy says. The word sounds like a statement rather than a greeting and it's met with a twitch of an eyebrow from Sirius. He merely tilts his head to the side and loftily scans the other boy from head to toe, all the way back to his face again.
"Potter, isn't it?"
"I'd rather you call me James seeing as we'll be sharing a room for a while." the boy replies coolly, looking across and noticing Remus half in shadow. "Oh, hullo! I didn't see you there."
James Potter puts Remus at ease immediately. His broad West Country accent seems to boom through the dormitory, somehow perpetuating a warm, genuine friendliness despite the new acquaintance.
"I can't believe I'm going to have to listen to that voice for the next seven years." Sirius says with no attempt to hide his horror.
"Well, not all of us can sound like we've sucked on a lemon, Black."
"I'll ask you to call me Sirius, if I'm to call you James."
James steps over to him, holding out a hand. "Let's start again then, shall we? Hullo, I'm James. I'm looking forward to sharing a room with you."
Sirius looks down at the hand extended to him, surprisingly taking it with a firm grip after only a moment's hesitation. "Sirius. Pleasure."
"Good. Now that that's over with, if you excuse me - "
James takes a running leap and dives onto his bed, shaking the entire structure. He starts to bounce on the mattress, nodding his head in satisfaction after a few minutes of this demonstration.
"What in the name of Merlin are you doing, Pot - uh, James?"
"Testing out the bed, of course. I was worried about it.I'm not very good sleeping in a different bed but this is alright, isn't it?"
"I suppose." Sirius appears to not know what to make of James Potter. He spares a glance at Remus before tugging his trunk to the foot of his newly acquired bed, pulling it open with a loud click. "I'm just glad that ceremony is over with. I thought I was going to die where I sat if it took any longer."
"It wasn't that bad."
"Your last name doesn't start with a B. I was right at the beginning, I had to sit through the rest of you. If that wasn't bad enough, that hat itched worse than Wartcap powder." Sirius sniffs haughtily. "I couldn't wait to get it off of me."
"I thought it was creepy, the way it got inside my brain. It took its time Sorting you, didn't it?" James says, peering over his glasses to look at Sirius. He folds his arms up behind his head and stifles a yawn. "You looked annoyed the whole time it was on your head."
"Only because I kept asking the thing if it was sure." he replies shortly, examining a hole in a sock before tossing it back into his school trunk. "It insisted I was a Gryffindor and I wanted to be certain it was right because my family - "
"What?"
Sirius shrugs, "Nothing. Anyway, I can't do anything about it now, even if I wanted. I suppose your parents were gunning for you to be in Gryffindor."
"So what if they were?"
Sirius ignores him and glances over at Remus, who is perched gingerly on the edge of his second choice of bed. "What about you?"
Remus starts. James and Sirius are both staring at him and his mind goes blank, "Me?"
"No, the hippogriff behind you. Of course you. Did your parents want you to be in a specific house?"
"They're just happy I'm here at all." Remus confesses, turning bright red when he realises he's implied too much. "Uh - what I mean is - Hogwarts is a great school, from what I've heard..."
Sirius appraises Remus but doesn't say anything beyond, "Huh. What's your name again?"
"Remus Lupin."
"Nice to meet you, Remus. Something tells me you're going to love me."
None of them realise when their final roommate sneaks into the dormitory to join them. Peter Pettigrew takes one quick, sweeping glance around the room, locates the sole free bed and climbs into it without breathing a word to anyone, leaving his trunk forgotten in the corner until morning.