#mmkierkegaard

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill: The Forbidden Forest Pt 1

“I am pleased with this development,” James said, folding his hands together like he was some sort of distinguished professor.

“And… why, exactly?” asked Peter, raising an eyebrow.

“Because, Pete! Dumbledore’s left, hasn’t he? That gives us a chance to find out where’s he been going lately?”

Peter frowned. “But… if Dumbledore’s gone now… doesn’t that mean he’s out there now? I mean, doesn’t that mean he’s in the place that we want to explore?”

James frowned along with him. “Good point.”

“Oh, bollocks,” yawned Sirius, his body slumped over the arm of his favourite overstuffed chair. “He’s probably out at the Ministry doing some political bosh.”

Remus glanced at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. Peter saw him hesitate. “I don’t know, Sirius. If we’re caught by Dumbledore, or any other professor-”

“We could be expelled!” squeaked Peter. A fit of nervousness grew in the bottom of his stomach. The thought of Professor Dumbledore catching them sneaking out on the castle grounds after curfew was terrifying. And imagine if McGonagall caught them-!

Sirius was silenced for a few moments, but James soon came to his rescue. He bent over the side of his trunk and pulled out a bunched out ball of silvery material.

“That’s why we have this!” he proclaimed, waving it about his head.

Peter had almost forgotten about the Invisibility Cloak.

“Pete! “Pete!”

“Ugh… wha…?”

“Wake up, Pete!”

“Yeah, but mind you, keep quiet!”

“What?... Why?” Peter groaned and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. It was Saturday, he knew, and he usually slept in until at least eleven. But judging by the window above James’ and Sirius’s grinning heads, it wasn’t even 6 o’clock. In fact, it was still dark out.

“What time-” Peter began, but before he could finish, James slapped his hand over his mouth and heaved him upright.

“Hey!” Peter’s voice was muffled completely, and Sirius immediately shushed him.

“Steady on, mate!”

“What’s going-?”

“We’re going down Matilda’s passage,” whispered James, heaving the Invisibility Cloak over his head and shoving them all from behind. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Peter watched the Cloak flutter over their heads, but was a little assured as he heard Remus say by his ear, “Don’t worry, Peter. We’re just going to take a peek.”

They crept down the stairs to the Common Room. As they approached the Fat Lady’s portrait, Peter hesitated again; James hissed in frustration.

“C’mon, Pete!”

“W-what if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught, for God’s sake!” snorted James, annoyed.

“We will, if you two don’t stop gaggling like some godforsaken geese,” Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Sirius, I’m honestly impressed,” said Remus by Peter’s ear.

“Thank you.”

“Shut up!” said James, nudging the portrait open.

The Fat Lady was snoring soundly. Peter was suddenly glad that she was such a heavy sleeper.

"This way," said James hoarsely, prodding Peter's back.

"We know which way it is!" snapped Sirius.

"Stop it," interjected Remus. His pale complexion looked eerie against the silvery fabric of the Invisibility Cloak. "Both of you, just shut your mouths."

Peter was surprised to see that they obeyed. Their journey down to Matilda's passage was silent and heart-pounding, pausing for a full minute if the floor creaked or if they thought they heard approaching footsteps. Peter had never felt more stressed in his life; he thought that they would never reach the hall that contained the god-ugly witch.

But, an hour later, after many twists and turn-arounds, they finally found Matilda's passage.

At once, Sirius threw off the Invisibility Cloak and strode up to her. "Hullo," he said confidently, shaking his dark brown hair out of his eyes.

Matilda's smile was reminiscent of Mona Lisa's; Peter had expected her to be asleep.

"What do you want?" Out of the corner, Peter saw Remus frown, and he knew why. Her tone sounded different from when the last time she saw them.

“Thaumatrope,” said Sirius, brushing his hair out of his eyes again. He looked expectantly at Matilda, while she stared blankly back.

A minute passed. Then-

“No.”

“No?” asked Sirius

“No!” repeated James, shoving his way forward towards Matilda. “That’s the password: ‘Thaumatrope!’ You have to let us in, we’ve said the password!”

“That is not the password,” said Matilda haughtily, looking her nose down at them. “That was never the password; who ever heard of a word that absurd: thaumatrope, it’s simply ghastly. Run along, children, I have no time for your foolish pranks.”

And with that she turned around and hummed tunelessly.

“Oi!” said James. “OI! We can still see you!”

Matilda ignored him and started to play with her hair.

Remus sighed. “James, this is getting us nowhere.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Peter wondered, staring at the back of Matilda’s head. “She’s… different-”

“I’ll say!” snorted Sirius, sounding offended. “She’s didn’t even know who I was!”

James, still fuming, turned around to face the rest of them, the tips of his ears scarlet. “I’ll tell you what’s up,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Dumbledore’s found out we’ve been following him, so he’s put a spell on Matilda. Or changed the password. Or both.”

Peter felt a fit of nervousness grow in the pit of his stomach. “But- if he’s found out, why hasn’t he-”

“Told anyone? I dunno,” said James, his frown deepening.

“I don’t like not knowing,” agreed Sirius, scuffing his shoe on the stone floor.

“I don’t think I want to know,” said Remus all of a sudden. Peter turned towards him; Remus was clutching the Invisibility Cloak. His grey eyes looked strangely ominous. “Ignorance is bliss, as they say. Come on, Filch will be about, and we don’t want him seeing Sirius, not after that incident with Mrs. Norris and the Droobles.”

“How long did it take for him to notice Mrs. Norris was on the ceiling?”

“About five seconds, to be precise, but it took him four hours to figure out how to get her down.”

Sirius chortled as they draped themselves with the Invisibility Cloak.

James, Peter noticed, was still extremely upset, and decided not to speak to him about Matilda. For the next few days, James threw out not-so-subtle hints that they should return to the passage and interrogate Matilda, but Remus quickly shot him down, saying that if Dumbledore knew they were tracking him, and if he had actually warned Matilda about them trying to follow him through the passage, then Dumbledore would have installed heightened security anyways, and they shouldn’t be surprised if they came across Trick Jinxes or armed trolls.

“Shut it!” bellowed James, and retreated behind the curtains of his four-poster. Sirius rolled his eyes and followed. Peter gave Remus a helpless look, while Remus just shrugged and turned another page of his book.

Peter made a point of avoiding James for a time, as James and Sirius spent most of their time with their heads together, whispering over quills and parchment like a couple of teenage witches. He couldn’t help wondering what they were doing.

“Dumbledore couldn’t know, could he?” he asked Remus nervously one evening in the library.

Remus scowled for a second into his book, which surprised Peter. He’d never seen Remus scowl at a book before. “I don’t know, Peter. He could… he’s the greatest wizard to ever live, after all. But we’ve been very careful…. To be honest, I’m still finding it hard to believe that Dumbledore could be doing something as fishy as this - what is he doing in the Forbidden Forest?...” He paused for a very long while, then glanced up at Peter, looking startlingly worried. “You don’t think it’s anything illegal, do you?”

Peter replied that he didn’t know. He understood that Remus was a huge admirer of Dumbledore, though he didn’t know why. He pondered this… Remus looked rather forlorn, he thought. He wondered if it had anything to do with Dumbledore. Or… perhaps...

He spoke up. “D’you think-”

He was interrupted by a very loud bang; his view of Remus was abruptly obscured by a teetering mountain of books.

“Remus?” came an anxious voice from behind the quivering mountain.  

“Hullo, Lily,” replied Remus.

Huffing, Lily plopped down in the seat opposite him and gathered a few books in her arms. “You know, this is nearly impossible! It’s hard enough as it is to stay on top of classes-!”

“Er- what’s impossible?” Peter broke in.

“She’s trying to help us figure out what happened to Paige Vaughan,” Remus reminded him.

“Oh, right.”

Lily nodded over at Peter, who was very glad to be involved in this secret meeting. “It was a potion; Dorcas is a genius! We had to tell a few fibs to get into the Restricted Section of the library, but-”

“Wait.” Remus held up a hand, his brow furrowed. “The Restricted Section? What did you need to go there for?”

“Because,” said a new voice, pulling up a chair beside Lily; Peter could only guess that it was Dorcas Meadowes. She had a pale, narrowed face with a short, freckled nose. She also wore little bells on her ears. “We searched the library from top to bottom for hours on end every night for the past week, and we couldn’t find a thing - it was hopeless - but then I remembered Professor Slughorn mentioning the Restricted Section one class in October… he said that they had loads of Potions books there!”

“So you went there, snatched a few,” Peter deduced. “But how…” His voice faded as Madam Pince, the wizened and wrinkled caretaker of the library passed by them. She eyed the precarious pile stacked on their table, and, for a moment, she hissed and spluttered in protest. Peter lowered his voice. “How did you manage it?”

“Easy,” announced the boisterous voice of Marlene McKinnon; she was leaning on the back of Dorcas’s chair. “We asked Slughorn.”

“And Slughorn let you?” Remus’s voice was riddled with disbelief.

“Well-” began Lily.

“Are you kidding? Slughorn adores her,” gushed Marlene. “They should get married. All it took was one signature, and it was a cinch.”

Remus still looked impressed. “What did you find out?”

“Lily told you, it was a potion,” whispered Dorcas, biting her cheek. “I read up on it - there’s so many nasty books - I don’t understand it! There’s a lot of components, easy to find, I think, Hagrid told me he’s seen plenty of Fluxweed and Nightshade in the Forbidden Forest… lots of herbology, going by what Lily told me-”

“And we were in the Herbology Greenhouse,” muttered Remus.

“You don’t think it was administered in the Greenhouse?” Lily looked aghast at the idea, but Dorcas shook her head.

“No, she would have to drink it beforehand - two to three hours before! But if someone snuck it into her drink, I don’t know how she wouldn’t have noticed… judging by what’s in it, it’s bound to taste worse than Polyjuice Potion…!”

She stopped, suddenly, and turned white. Peter knew why. Madam Pince was stalking up to their table, hissing like an angry cat.

“Oh, God,” said Lily. She sounded more annoyed than frightened.

“What’s this?” choked Madam Pince, seizing a particularly fat book atop the pile. Holding it inches away from her square spectacles, she gave a shriek of horror that sent Peter tumbling off his chair onto the floor.

“Steady on!” shouted Marlene.

“Befouled!” Madam Pince screamed; to Peter she sounded like she was gargling marbles. “Beriddled! Bespoiled! Return those at once!” Immediately, she started scooping the books into her arms. Amidst the struggle, Peter managed to glimpse one of the covers of the books : Moste Potente Potions.

“No!” protested Dorcas, wrestling a couple away. “We’re not finished!”

“Absolutely disgraceful! Disgusting!” frothed Pince, yanking them away. She looked rather odd, with a mountain of books in her stick-arms, but she managed to stumble away, sagging under the weight of them.

“God,” muttered Marlene. “I hate her.”

There was a sudden crash: Remus jumped, and Lily yelped, and they all saw Madam Pince rush out the door like she was running a marathon, clutching a few books to her chest. In seconds, she was out the door.

Five mouths dropped open.

“Was she always that strange?”

“She’s a natural sprinter, looks like.”

“Batty,” mouthed Marlene, grinning. “She’s as mad as a bat.”

“Gone off her rocker,” agreed Peter.

Remus leaned into his hands, his elbow almost sliding off the edge of the table. “There’s something not right here,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead with the other hand. “Not right at all…”

[ao3feed-jily]

November 11th, 1981

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2Feunfh

by mmkierkegaard

Remus meets up with Sirius a week after James and Lily's death.

Words: 667, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: James Potter, Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew

Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter

Additional Tags: Sad, Tears

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2Feunfh

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill:

The first in a seven-part series about the Marauders' time at Hogwarts. James yearns to shame his archenemy Severus Snape, and gain the attention and affection of a certain red-haired Gryffindor; Sirius grapples with the abuse hurtled from his family and relatives; Peter struggles to fit in among his Hogwarts peers; while Remus wrestles with the weight of his long-kept secret.

The adventure begins at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12138376/1/The-Marauders-and-the-Hollow-Hill

Chapter 13 coming soon.

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill: Snivellus Snape (6)

James led the way across the still-damp grass, flushed with excitement. Finally, finally, he was going to be able to ride a broom again. He could feel his eye twitching as he was forced to halt when a witch was short white hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Alright!" she barked at them. James could see two rows of brooms laid neatly on the ground behind her; he felt himself grin. Sirius elbowed him hard in the stomach. The witch glanced down at them with her yellow eyes. "I am Madam Hooch - what are you waiting for?" she yelled again, causing the first-years to jump. "Go on, go and stand next to a broom. Hurry up now!"

Quickly, the first-years scurried to find a place next to a broom. James selected the one farthest away from Madam Hooch, a rather sad-looking one with a cracked handle a clumps of twigs missing from the end of it. He stared down at it. "You'd think the school would be able to afford better brooms," he muttered under his breath, turning to look at Sirius. "It doesn't even look like they can get off the ground."

Sirius frowned down at his broom, which looked even more disappointing than James'. "I hope so, or else we'll all look barmy," he muttered.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch was calling near the front of the line. "And say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" the first-years shouted. To James's delight, his leapt into his hand immediately, as did Sirius's. Peter's, however, didn't move at all, and Remus's wriggled pathetically on the ground. He didn't seem that perturbed; he just smiled rather tiredly."I think it knows I'm not that fond of flying," he explained.

Meanwhile, Madam Hooch showed them all how to mount the broom and grip it correctly - James knew he didn't need her help. He wanted to get to the part where they actually flew. He could feel his stomach writhing with excitement as he swung his leg over the side of his broom. Catching Sirius's eye, he grinned.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch sternly. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle!" James gripped the handle of his broom along with the rest of the first years and obeyed; he kicked off the wet grass and made sure to hover a bit longer and a bit higher than everyone else around him. Then they all sank back to the ground - James noticed that the red-haired girl, Evans, was wobbling a bit. He grinned.

"Excellent," barked Madam Hooch. "Now we'll try that again - a bit higher, this time-"

They tried again; James did as he was told. When it was time to descend, however, he rose another three feet in the air and stared down at them all, smirking."Alright, Evans?" he yelled down at the girl, who by now had swung off her broomstick and gone to stand by the pasty, greasy-haired boy James recognized once again as "Snivellus" Snape. Both were glaring up at him like he'd just killed their mum's cat.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch yelled at him. She grew smaller and smaller as James rose higher and higher. "Potter, you get down here this instant!"

James shook his head. Far below he saw Sirius, shielding his eyes from the sun and grinning. "See how high you can go!" he shouted.

"Mr. Black-" scolded Madam Hooch.

"James, maybe you should-" began Peter.

"Potter!" cried Evans angrily over all the hubbub. "You get down here right now, you'll get a detention!

"James snorted. "I'm too good for a detention."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Hooch screeched. "If you don't get down here right now-"

"You'll get in trouble!" Evans yelled. "You'll get Gryffindor in trouble!"

"Bollocks," James said. He urged his broom higher towards the castle roof.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch and Evans screamed at the same time, but they faded in the wind as it rushed past James' ears, he hollered with triumph as he soared towards Ravenclaw Tower - perhaps he could glimpse a couple little Ravenclaws… or, if he was lucky, even Celia St. Claire…

He glanced through the window and he felt his heart soar. There she was, sitting on a pouf in the Ravenclaw Common Room, deeply immersed in her Herbology textbook. Lightly, he tapped on the glass. She looked up, stunned for a few moments, then (his heart jumped again) waved, blushing furiously. Returning her wave, he decided to impress her, doing a loop-de-loop beside the window. He could hear his fellow first-years gasping from the ground below, but he didn't care. He was safe. He'd done stuff like that a million times.Celia St. Claire was applauding behind the glass. Grinning, he bid her farewell with a jerk of his head and zoomed straight back down towards the ground - he could hear some Gryffindors shrieking - at the very last second, he pulled out of the dive-

Something leapt in front of him, a green and black blur brandishing a wand. "CONFUNDUS!" shouted a voice. Startled, James tried to steer his broom away, but he felt the handle vibrate underneath him - instead of slowing down, it sped up, but it was only inches away from the ground now, and jerking violently, like a bronco trying to buck off his rider.

Thankfully, James kept his head. Forcing his sweaty hands to release the broom handle, he jumped away from it and rolled, coming up on his knees. The broom behind him promptly exploded.

Sirius, who was standing nearby, helped James to his feet. "That was wicked, mate!" 

James grinned.Madam Hooch, meanwhile, was all in a dither. "Now, really!" she yelled. The effect of her voice sent all the first-years stumbling backwards. "The Confundus Charm was unnecessary! A detention, perhaps, might do the trick!" She stared at the first-years with her hawk-like eyes. "Come now! Which one of you did it?"

No one stirred."Bet one Sickle it's Snivellus," James muttered.

"I'm betting Evans - you're on," murmured Sirius, smirking.

Sighing, Madam Hooch whipped out her wand. "I guess there's only one way to solve this - Prior Incantato!" She yelled, waving her wand over the crowd of frightened first-years. Gasping and shrieking, they tried to evade the spell, but it appeared to do nothing; that is, until the wand of an unsuspecting Slytherin was yanked out of his pocket and zoomed into Madam Hooch's hand.

"Aha!" she shouted. "Mr. Snape, is it?"

Snape nodded, apparently emotionless."Well, this will be your first detention at Hogwarts won't it?" Snape nodded sullenly. James stifled a laugh - Madam Hooch's head snapped around to look at him. "The same goes for you, Mr. Potter!" Then she cast her eyes over the rest of her class, who looked nervous and surprisingly shrunken. "Well, what are you all looking at?" Madam Hooch barked. "Class dismissed!"

The first-years anxiously gathered up their things and made their way back up to the castle. Remus and Peter fell in pace with James and Sirius at the back of the group."I can't believe you've gone and landed yourself in detention," Peter groaned.

"Just like Lily said you would," Remus said, shaking his head.

James elbowed him in the ribs. "Already on a first name basis, eh? You in love, Remus?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I am not. You're telling me you're not upset you got a detention?"

James grinned. "Don't try to change the subject. Nah, I don't mind. But Sirius owes me a Sickle now, don't you, mate?"

"Can't believe it," Sirius said, pretending to look solemn.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Snape enter the castle, walking in a way that reminded James of a spider. Peter followed his gaze."Who do you reckon he is, then?" he asked, looking after Snape.

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "That's Snivellus. Snivellus Snape."

"He's odd," Remus muttered, frowning. "I reckon he's lonely. Doesn't have many friends, does he?"

"He hangs out with Evans," Peter pointed out."Lads, he nearly killed James," Sirius said loudly.

"He couldn't kill me if he tried," James said scornfully. And without another word, he rushed ahead of them and back into the castle.

The next few days passed without incident. Lessons were almost always the same as the ones previous them; James found himself getting extremely bored and glancing up at the clock every five seconds. The only class he really liked that that had was Charms - he was absolutely rubbish at Potions and despised History of Magic, Astronomy was okay (Sirius was surprisingly enthusiastic about it), and he didn't even try in Herbology. Defense Against the Dark Arts was an entirely different story. He absolutely loathed it… perhaps he hated the teacher even more. Professor Lancaster was (if possible) even worse than his son. He was round-faced and thick-necked, like Martin, but he was surprisingly thin-mouthed, and had a hoarse, croaky voice that sounded somewhat like a frog that had a head cold. Most of the time, Lancaster paced the front of the room, lecturing them about curses and hexes while they took notes, tense and alert, like they were expecting someone to creep up behind them and whack them. Sometimes they divided into pairs and attempted simple charms and jinxes on each other, but not often. But Professor Lancaster docked Gryffindor points every class, and blamed Sirius for every point taken. He also seemed to insult Sirius every chance he got, and constantly mentioned the Blacks and their "honourable pure-blood heritage." Then he would glance at Sirius, obviously disgusted, and would continue with the lesson as if nothing had happened.

Thankfully, the rest of Gryffindor House had the same view of Professor Lancaster, with the exception of Martin and his cronies. To James's great surprise, Martin had more people on his side than James had thought he would. Not only had he swayed his roommates, but the whole of Slytherin House, though Sirius claimed they had always thought that way in the same place.

"But not all Slytherins can be bad," James remembered Peter muttering during one uneventful Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Remus actually stopped taking notes and turned to look at them, which was a great achievement, seeing as Remus was the only one of them who would pay attention during lessons. "He's right, isn't he?" he mused. "You can't just create a stereotype based off a few people you know, can you?"

"You don't know them," Sirius had murmured darkly.

"Mr. Black!" Professor Lancaster had snarled. "Is there something you'd like to share with all of us?" Sirius had raised his head and opened his mouth, but Lancaster continued before Sirius even had time to speak. "That's another five points from Gryffindor."

Sirius had sunk even lower in his seat. "You see?" he had whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Despite all of this, James found himself enjoying Hogwarts. He found the classes easy, even without paying attention, and he found learning the magic easier. He liked his dormitory, the meals they served in the Great Hall… he even grew fond of the moving staircases, which lurched every time they moved and had a tendency to make James fall over. Everything was almost perfect.

"When'd you think they'll let us try out for Quidditch?" said James as he swung his legs over the arm of a chair in the Gryffindor common room. It was late on a Friday; their first week finished at Hogwarts. But somehow they had managed to acquire a heavy load of homework to finish over the weekend - Remus had decided to get a head start on it. He was lying on his stomach in front of the fireplace, adjusting his reading glasses on his nose as he leaned further and further in towards his book. Sirius sat in the chair opposite James, shirt untucked and arm draped over the back of the chair. Peter, meanwhile, was sitting on the floor in between them, going through James's extensive collection of Chocolate Frogs, bleary-eyed.

"You know, I don't think first-years get to play Quidditch," said Peter, yawning. He shuffled through a few more cards. "How many Agrippa cards do you have? I swear I've counted at least fifty so far-"

James groaned loudly. "What? What about… ugh." He rolled his eyes. "I saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team practicing this morning."

"Yeah?" Sirius smirked at James. "And what do you reckon?"

James snorted. "I reckon they're rubbish."

Peter glanced up at them, eyes swiveling back and forth between James and Sirius. "Really? Are they that bad?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes," James said with an air of finality. "I even spoke to Ayres about it afterwards-"

"Ayres?" interrupted Sirius frowning. "He's the Captain of the Gryffindor Team, isn't he?"

"Yeah," nodded James. "I told him that his team wasn't aligning properly: there are a bunch of holes in their Advance Formation, the Chasers must be blind or something -"

Remus spoke up suddenly from his place on the floor. "Now, I don't know much about Quidditch," he said quietly, not bothering to take his eyes off of his book. "But I imagine Ayres wasn't too chuffed about that, was he?"

"No, he wasn't!" said James angrily. "He chucked me off the field, in fact!" Frustrated, he punched the chair, his tight fist sinking deep into the plush material. "I can't wait until I get into Quidditch… I'll outplay them all, the-"

"Shall we go to bed?" said Peter hastily. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Remus smile a little.

"No," scoffed Sirius, flipping his long dark hair out of his eyes. "It's barely ten -"

"And it's our first Friday at Hogwarts!" James added, glancing at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. Sirius grinned.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Whatever you guys are planning, I'll not be involved."

Sirius pretended to look shocked. "Why, Remus! What would ever make you think something like that?"

Remus rolled his eyes and pulled his glasses off his face, neatly folding them up and putting them in his pocket. "Well, I agree with Peter - I'm turning in… I'm finished."

"Finished?" James felt his mouth fall open. "With all of it?"

"The summary on wormwood isn't that hard James, I don't know why you were complaining so much about it - all you have to do is take notes on the chapter and look up it's properties in the index-"

"Alright, alright!" shouted Sirius, clamping his hands over his ears. "We've heard enough, we'll do it tomorrow. Happy?"

Remus smirked at them as he got to his feet; James noticed that he was shaking a little. "Right." And he disappeared up to the staircase leading towards the boys' dormitories. Peter was quick to follow, still clutching James's Chocolate Frog Cards.

Sirius glanced over at James again. "What do you reckon?" he asked quietly.

His inquiry took James by surprise. "What?"

Sirius jerked his head towards the staircase that Remus and Peter had ascended. "What do you think of them? You reckon they're decent?"

James stared at Sirius. It was an odd question to ask, seeing as Sirius had already seemed to have grown fond of both Remus and Peter. "Um… sure. Why?"

"Just wondering if you thought the same as I did," said Sirius, grinning forcibly. "I reckon they're good. Wouldn't have stuck with me this far if they weren't, would they?"

James frowned at him. "What do you mean?" Then something clicked in his brain, and a fresh wave of frustration seemed to flow from his head down to his toes. "If this is about you being a Black-"

Sirius went red. "No, of course not-"

"Sirius, how long will it take for you to get it?" said James, gazing right at him. "I don't care if you're a Black - I don't think Remus or Peter cares either… you're decent, all right?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I'm decent. Now I feel special."

James threw a pillow at him, and it smacked Sirius right in the face, who fell over laughing.

The weekend seemed to flash by, and James was soon wishing that he had done all his homework on Friday evening with Remus. It wasn't long before he and Sirius were sprawled down on the floor of the Common Room, scribbling randomly about bezoars and asphodel on long pieces of parchment on a cool Sunday evening. Peter, who had managed to finish all of his homework the previous afternoon, was anxiously checking his essay against James and Sirius's. Remus stood over them all, already in his pajamas, helping them when he could.

Nonetheless, James woke up the next morning grumpy and irritated. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed to be more energetic and enthusiastic than ever. Finally, he had seemed to accept the fact that none of his new friends cared the slightest bit about his heritage whatsoever.

"Can't wait for this afternoon." Sirius had said at breakfast as he poured ketchup over his sausages.

Peter frowned at him. "Why?"

"We have Potions with the Slytherins," replied Sirius happily. "Those wazzocks, they'll fail at everything, the stupid -"

"Actually -" Remus murmured, looking paler than usual. "We have Transformation with them in the morning…" He frowned a little, staring vaguely with the ceiling. "At least, I think we do."

It turned out that Remus was right. In fact, they had Transfiguration right after breakfast, and they were very nearly late. Flushed and panting, they seated themselves in tables at the back of the room, heaving their thick leather-bound books onto the desks. James squinted at it; he hadn't really bothered to look in his textbooks yet.

"A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, by Emeric Switch," he read, opening the book excitedly. "Wow! Look at all this!..." He practically dove into the book. The whole thing seemed very simple to him, a thought and an incantation, and you could change anything into… anything. James flipped through the book hastily, scanning the text, examining the illustrations. One of his favourites depicted a fabulously multi-coloured bird changing into a silver goblet.

Sirius, meanwhile, was tipping his chair back on two legs. "Wonder where the teacher is," he mumbled. "Who's our professor anyways?"

Suddenly, there was a loud noise up near the front of the classroom; someone was clearing their throat. Startled, Sirius almost tumbled out of his chair, while James looked up so fast he cricked his neck. Standing behind the large oaken desk in the front of the room stood the same witch that had placed the Sorting Hat on their heads - McGonagall, James thought. She looked ever the same: rather severe-looking, with a black pointed hat and square spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She stared down at them without the slightest shadow of a smile.

"As you all know, I am Professor McGonagall," she stated obviously. "And I will be your Transfiguration teacher during your time at Hogwarts."

James's hand shot up before he even realized it; McGonagall turned towards him, eyebrows raised. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

So she had a good memory. "What kind of stuff will we be transfiguring?" he asked eagerly.

"All kinds of 'stuff,' as you put it, Mr. Potter," replied McGonagall. James thought he saw her smirk a little. He watched her flick her wand - instantly, a lot of long, complicated notes appeared on the blackboard in front of the classroom. "Now, if you would… please copy these down…"

To James's extreme disappointment, the class wasn't nearly as fun as he had anticipated. After slowly copying all the notes from the board onto parchment, McGonagall handed them each a match and told them to try to turn it into a needle. James, to his immense surprise, managed to transform his match on the first try. McGonagall actually smiled and held up his needle for everyone to see - he saw the pale, greasy-haired boy he had met on the train scowl at him and wave his wand over his match; it promptly flew six feet into the air and exploded.

"I think McGonagall's taken a shine to you, James!" chuckled Peter as they left the Transfiguration classroom. Indeed she had seemed to, as she had gone on a ten-minute rant about how particularly talented and lucky James was, how a natural ability to transfigure was very uncommon, and how she looked forward to seeing him more in her class.

"Have you always been able to transfigure things easily, James?" Remus asked, leading the way down the moving staircase.

James frowned. "Well… not always. I turned my mum's wand into a giant slug once - it's not that funny," he added when Sirius sniggered. "I'm pretty sure my wand has something to do with it too… at least, that's what Ollivander said… he said mahogany's real good for Transfiguration…" He glanced down at it as he spoke, clutched tightly in his fist. "Anyways… what do we have next?"

"Potions," said Sirius immediately. "With the Slytherins, we're with them all afternoon."

"Joy," muttered Remus unenthusiastically.

Soon, they arrived at the Potions classroom, which was located in the lowest part of the castle - the dungeons. It was much colder there than the other rooms in Hogwarts, and seemed much more foul. It was dank and dark and multicolored blobs floated in jars on shelves. Thankfully, having had Potions five times the previous week, they were practically used to it. Their professor was already standing there - Horace Slughorn, red-cheeked, big-bellied, and beaming - despite the temperature.

"I can't wait to see this place in winter," murmured Sirius as he set up his cauldron.

"Welcome back!" Slughorn announced, grinning at them. "We'll be continuing to brew the Forgetfulness Potion today - your samples from last week are here on my desk, they'll need to stew for another ten minutes, and they still need sprigs of lavender and some dragon blood… well." His smile widened. "You'll find all the instructions in your books. Let the brewing commence!"

James rolled his eyes. "Who do you reckon will be his favourite today, Sirius?"

Sirius pretended to be concentrating and counted off people on his fingers. "Evans, Maddox… Lancaster," he added, making a face. "They don't really change, do they?"

"No," agreed James, retrieving his sample from Slughorn's desk and dumping it into his cauldron. Furtively, he lit a fire underneath it and glanced anxiously into his cauldron. "Remus?"

"Mmm?" said Remus vaguely, staring down into his Potions book.

"Is it supposed to be red?"

James grinned as Remus whipped around, and enjoyed watching his face turn the same shade of bright scarlet that the potion had turned, although he wished it had been shooting sparks and emitting a high-pitched whistling noise like the potion was.

Slughorn, to James's disappointment, hurried over. "Evanesco!" he yelled, and the potion vanished. "My dear boy, what happened?" Slughorn puffed, straightening his hat on his balding head. "Did you add the Tentacula Leaves? Because you are supposed to wait at least five minutes before-"

"Professor!" someone called from the other end of the classroom. Standing behind a simmering cauldron was the red-haired girl - Evans, James thought - and the bat-like, greasy-haired boy James had seen in Transformation. Snivellus, remembered James, smirking. From the train. "Professor!" Evans called again, waving her hand in the air. "I think we've got it; can you come take a look?"

Slughorn rushed over there so fast he might've be magicked by a Summoning Charm. But as he peered into their cauldron, James saw his face light up with delight. "My, my! This is absolutely perfect - the fumes are strong… I can feel myself forgetting what I had for breakfast this very morning!" He chuckled at his own joke. "Everyone! Come here! Look, Miss Evans and Mr. Snape have done it!"

The effect was almost immediate. In an instant, the whole of the class had gathered around Evans and Snape's cauldron, staring down at the potion. Professor Slughorn was still congratulating them, finally declaring that they had gained a well-earned ten points for both their Houses. James felt something hot like jealousy flare up in the bottom of his stomach. Thankfully, Sirius had stayed by his side. "They shouldn't have gotten points for that," he groaned. "I can't wait to see their smug little faces this next class."

James was a little alarmed. "Why?"

Sirius grinned over at him. "Quidditch."

Promptly, the stinging jealous feeling in his stomach disappeared, and he felt himself grin along with Sirius. He had been playing Quidditch practically all his life, riding a broom was almost second nature to James. Of course, being a first year, he'd been forced to leave his broomstick back in his trunk at home, but James felt like he would give anything to feel that wonderful, thrilling feeling he always got in his chest whenever he rode a broomstick.

He couldn't wait for the next class. Even if it was with the Slytherins.

James led the way across the still-damp grass, flushed with excitement. Finally, finally, he was going to be able to ride a broom again. He could feel his eye twitching as he was forced to halt when a witch was short white hair and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Alright!" she barked at them. James could see two rows of brooms laid neatly on the ground behind her; he felt himself grin. Sirius elbowed him hard in the stomach. The witch glanced down at them with her yellow eyes. "I am Madam Hooch - what are you waiting for?" she yelled again, causing the first-years to jump. "Go on, go and stand next to a broom. Hurry up now!"

Quickly, the first-years scurried to find a place next to a broom. James selected the one farthest away from Madam Hooch, a rather sad-looking one with a cracked handle a clumps of twigs missing from the end of it. He stared down at it. "You'd think the school would be able to afford better brooms," he muttered under his breath, turning to look at Sirius. "It doesn't even look like they can get off the ground."

Sirius frowned down at his broom, which looked even more disappointing than James'. "I hope so, or else we'll all look barmy," he muttered.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch was calling near the front of the line. "And say, 'Up!'"

"UP!" the first-years shouted. To James's delight, his leapt into his hand immediately, as did Sirius's. Peter's, however, didn't move at all, and Remus's wriggled pathetically on the ground. He didn't seem that perturbed; he just smiled rather tiredly.

"I think it knows I'm not that fond of flying," he explained.

Meanwhile, Madam Hooch showed them all how to mount the broom and grip it correctly - James knew he didn't need her help. He wanted to get to the part where they actually flew. He could feel his stomach writhing with excitement as he swung his leg over the side of his broom. Catching Sirius's eye, he grinned.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch sternly. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle!" James gripped the handle of his broom along with the rest of the first years and obeyed; he kicked off the wet grass and made sure to hover a bit longer and a bit higher than everyone else around him. Then they all sank back to the ground - James noticed that the red-haired girl, Evans, was wobbling a bit. He grinned.

"Excellent," barked Madam Hooch. "Now we'll try that again - a bit higher, this time-"

They tried again; James did as he was told. When it was time to descend, however, he rose another three feet in the air and stared down at them all, smirking.

"Alright, Evans?" he yelled down at the girl, who by now had swung off her broomstick and gone to stand by the pasty, greasy-haired boy James recognized once again as "Snivellus" Snape. Both were glaring up at him like he'd just killed their mum's cat.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch yelled at him. She grew smaller and smaller as James rose higher and higher. "Potter, you get down here this instant!"

James shook his head. Far below he saw Sirius, shielding his eyes from the sun and grinning. "See how high you can go!" he shouted.

"Mr. Black-" scolded Madam Hooch.

"James, maybe you should-" began Peter.

"Potter!" cried Evans angrily over all the hubbub. "You get down here right now, you'll get a detention!"

James snorted. "I'm too good for a detention."

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Hooch screeched. "If you don't get down here right now-"

"You'll get in trouble!" Evans yelled. "You'll get Gryffindor in trouble!"

"Bollocks," James said. He urged his broom higher towards the castle roof.

"Potter!" Madam Hooch and Evans screamed at the same time, but they faded in the wind as it rushed past James' ears, he hollered with triumph as he soared towards Ravenclaw Tower - perhaps he could glimpse a couple little Ravenclaws… or, if he was lucky, even Celia St. Claire…

He glanced through the window and he felt his heart soar. There she was, sitting on a pouf in the Ravenclaw Common Room, deeply immersed in her Herbology textbook. Lightly, he tapped on the glass. She looked up, stunned for a few moments, then (his heart jumped again) waved, blushing furiously. Returning her wave, he decided to impress her, doing a loop-de-loop beside the window. He could hear his fellow first-years gasping from the ground below, but he didn't care. He was safe. He'd done stuff like that a million times.

Celia St. Claire was applauding behind the glass. Grinning, he bid her farewell with a jerk of his head and zoomed straight back down towards the ground - he could hear some Gryffindors shrieking - at the very last second, he pulled out of the dive-

Something leapt in front of him, a green and black blur brandishing a wand. "CONFUNDUS!" shouted a voice. Startled, James tried to steer his broom away, but he felt the handle vibrate underneath him - instead of slowing down, it sped up, but it was only inches away from the ground now, and jerking violently, like a bronco trying to buck off his rider.

Thankfully, James kept his head. Forcing his sweaty hands to release the broom handle, he jumped away from it and rolled, coming up on his knees. The broom behind him promptly exploded.

Sirius, who was standing nearby, helped James to his feet. "That was wicked, mate!"

James grinned.

Madam Hooch, meanwhile, was all in a dither. "Now, really!" she yelled. The effect of her voice sent all the first-years stumbling backwards. "The Confundus Charm was unnecessary! A detention, perhaps, might do the trick!" She stared at the first-years with her hawk-like eyes. "Come now! Which one of you did it?"

No one stirred.

"Bet one Sickle it's Snivellus," James muttered.

"I'm betting Evans - you're on," murmured Sirius, smirking.

Sighing, Madam Hooch whipped out her wand. "I guess there's only one way to solve this - Prior Incantato!" She yelled, waving her wand over the crowd of frightened first-years. Gasping and shrieking, they tried to evade the spell, but it appeared to do nothing; that is, until the wand of an unsuspecting Slytherin was yanked out of his pocket and zoomed into Madam Hooch's hand.

"Aha!" she shouted. "Mr. Snape, is it?"

Snape nodded, apparently emotionless.

"Well, this will be your first detention at Hogwarts won't it?" Snape nodded sullenly. James stifled a laugh - Madam Hooch's head snapped around to look at him. "The same goes for you, Mr. Potter!" Then she cast her eyes over the rest of her class, who looked nervous and surprisingly shrunken. "Well, what are you all looking at?" Madam Hooch barked. "Class dismissed!"

The first-years anxiously gathered up their things and made their way back up to the castle. Remus and Peter fell in pace with James and Sirius at the back of the group.

"I can't believe you've gone and landed yourself in detention," Peter groaned.

"Just like Lily said you would," Remus said, shaking his head.

James elbowed him in the ribs. "Already on a first name basis, eh? You in love, Remus?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I am not. You're telling me you're not upset you got a detention?"

James grinned. "Don't try to change the subject. Nah, I don't mind. But Sirius owes me a Sickle now, don't you, mate?"

"Can't believe it," Sirius said, pretending to look solemn.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Snape enter the castle, walking in a way that reminded James of a spider. Peter followed his gaze.

"Who do you reckon he is, then?" he asked, looking after Snape.

Sirius laughed humorlessly. "That's Snivellus. Snivellus Snape."

"He's odd," Remus muttered, frowning. "I reckon he's lonely. Doesn't have many friends, does he?"

"He hangs out with Evans," Peter pointed out.

"Lads, he nearly killed James," Sirius said loudly.

"He couldn't kill me if he tried," James said scornfully. And without another word, he rushed ahead of them and back into the castle.

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill: Sirius’s Remorse

Peter was the first person in his dormitory to wake. It was rather early, he supposed, but he was morning person and he guessed that that was one of those habits that never really changed.

Yawning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Daylight was streaming through an open window, but inside the dormitory, it was still quite dark, and the rest of his roommates were apparently all still sleeping. James was upside-down in his bed with his feet on his pillow, his broken glasses askew on his face; Sirius was snoring loudly, his head lolling. Remus, however, couldn't be seen, as the curtains around his bed had been yanked shut. Carefully, Peter listened. He couldn't hear anything, except Sirius's snoring. He wondered if Remus had even come to bed at all last night.

As if on cue, Remus appeared, stepping out of a small room adjoining to their dormitory; Peter guessed it was the bathroom (Remus's hair was wet). He had already changed into his robes.

"'Morning," Remus murmured, making his way towards his bed. "Sleep okay?"

Peter let out another huge yawn. "Yeah. You?"

"Fine… Dumbledore kept me a bit late - He had a message from my parents," he added quickly, noting Peter's curious expression.

Peter felt himself frown, then shrugged. He guessed that Remus was one of those people who always seemed mysterious… or perhaps, he wasn't telling Peter everything…

Sirius let loose another huge snore. Both Peter and Remus jumped. "Good Lord," Remus muttered, running a free hand through his own hair. "I'm surprised I slept at all last night."

"Me too." Peter smiled and hopped off his bed, scanning Sirius up and down like he was a room that needed furnishing. "Isn't there a Silencing Charm we could use...?"

"Good point," Remus said thoughtfully, now rummaging through his trunk for his wand. "Let me see… ah, here it is." He pointed his wand at Sirius. "Silencio."

Sirius immediately went quiet, but his mouth was still hugely open, looking very awkward and unattractive. Peter chuckled. "Does anyone have a camera handy?" he whispered. Remus snorted loudly through his nose.

A loud thumping noise interrupted them; James had fallen off his bed onto the floor. He sat up dizzily, looking annoyed and irritated, his broken glasses dangling off the tip of his nose. "Stupid… stupid bed..." he moaned, as Peter and Remus roared with laughter. "Oh, very funny," he said acidly. "While you two have been giggling like a pair of schoolgirls-" Then he caught glimpse of Sirius, open-mouthed, looking quite deranged. "What happened to Sirius?"

"This," Remus replied, raising his wand and removing the charm. The wall-shaking snores returned, and the whole dormitory seemed to tremble.

"TURN IT OFF!" James shouted, clapping his hands over his ears. Hastily, Peter rushed over and threw the covers over Sirius's head, while Remus yanked the curtain hanging around the bed closed. The noise was muffled slightly. James sighed. "Blimey," he said, tugging his robes out of his trunk. "That's like a foghorn, that is."

Peter watched as the lump in the blankets that was Sirius shifted a few inches. Then glanced down at his watch. "We have to go breakfast soon, if we want to get to our first class on time. Someone should wake him."

There was silence for a moment. Then-

"I'll do it," groaned Remus finally, approaching Sirius's bed. Pulling the curtains aside, he shook Sirius's shoulder. "Sirius. Wake up." No response. "Sirius, mate. It's time to get up." Nothing. Sirius stirred a little, but otherwise, nothing happened. "Sirius!" Remus said a bit louder, wrenching the sheets off of him. Sirius just turned over and snored louder.

"I don't know if I can take more of this," James said, his hands pressed over his ears again.

Peter came to stand by Remus. "Maybe he can't hear you," he suggested helpfully.

Remus took a few deep breaths. "Right." He leaned in towards Sirius so that his mouth was right next to his ear. He took another deep breath, then hollered, "SIRIUS BLACK!"

"AAAAHHHH!"

Sirius's eyes had snapped open and he had leapt practically five feet in the air, all while letting out a piercing scream and flailing his arms, barely missing Remus's face. He then toppled off the edge of his bed onto the floor with a loud, "ouch!"

"And I thought Sirius's snoring was loud enough," James grumbled.

"Steady on!" Sirius complained, clumsily getting to his feet. He stared at Remus, who was staring back with bemusement. "What was that for?"

Remus didn't answer. He just smiled like it was that was the funniest thing he had ever seen, and bent down to retrieve his schedule. "We have History of Magic first today," he announced formally.

Sirius frowned slightly. "Are you having a laugh?"

"Obviously not," James chuckled, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Let's go down to breakfast, I'm starving."

Together, they seized their books and hurried out of the dormitory and through the Common Room; a few students lingered there, either talking or eating or riffling through their new spellbooks. James led the way down a couple staircases before getting lost in a matter of minutes. Sirius led them from there - he had an excellent sense of direction.

Ten minutes later, they arrived in the Great Hall, which was very nearly empty except for a couple first years, who were hurriedly finishing their breakfast.

"We're going to be late," James said unnecessarily, flinging himself down at the Gryffindor table and helping himself to toast and a kipper.

"Yeah, but they ought to give us leeway on the first day, eh?" Sirius said, heaping his plate full of eggs. "Pass the marmalade, will you?"

Just as James predicted, they were late for their first class. By the time they arrived at the History of Magic classroom, they were all red and flustered and muttering excuses under their breaths. But as they entered, the professor took no notice of them. In fact, the professor didn't even look at them; he just kept on speaking about goblin wars and such in a dreadfully boring, monotonous voice. He had to be the dullest person in the world, Peter thought. But now that he looked closer, he saw that their professor wasn't even a person at all. He was a ghost… hovering a few feet above the floor, and completely and utterly transparent - Peter had a hard time keeping track of his movements. He knew that he ought to be surprised, but at this point, he wasn't. This is a magic school, with talking hats and moving pictures. Why couldn't it have ghosts as well?

Sirius and James seemed to be thinking the same thing as Peter, but Remus looked astonished. He didn't take his eyes of the ghost once during the entire lesson. How he managed it, Peter didn't know. The whole thing was very tedious and uninteresting; it was just the professor (Binns, he was called) giving a lecture, his voice never varying. Sirius, being as tired as he was, quickly fell asleep again, his snores muted somewhat with his face in his arms.

Their next class was Charms, a lesson they all enjoyed, taught by Professor Flitwick, a tiny wizard with white hair who had to stand on a stack of books in order to see over the top of his desk. That day, they learned a useful little spell Flitwick called, "Wingardium Leviosa," which was used to make things levitate.

"Now remember, it's swish and flick!" Flitwick said, demonstrating with his own wand. "Let's see you all try. It takes the incantation and the wand movements in order for the spell to work, so it may take some practice-"

Lily Evans (a fellow Gryffindor) however, had already sent multiple objects hovering in the air with the charm and was grinning broadly. James and Sirius attempted the spell and set each other's hair on fire.

Saying the spell aloud, Peter pointed his wand at Remus's quill; it gave a pathetic little twitch, but otherwise it did not move. Remus smiled. "It's in the wrist," he said gently, pointing. "Don't be afraid to flourish your wand - that's what the 'swish' is. See?"

And Remus performed the spell on his Charms textbook. Peter watched as it slowly rose a few inches of the desk. Swish and flick, Peter firmly told himself. He pointed his wand. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

To his great delight, the book shook a bit and rose about another foot, coming to a sudden halt inches above Remus's head. "I did it!" Peter exclaimed triumphantly. "Did you see that, I did it!"

"Well done," Remus said, grinning as he watched Professor Flitwick extinguish James and Sirius's flaming heads with a Water Charm.

The morning went by quickly. In no time, it was after noon, and Peter, Remus, James, and Sirius were seated once again at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, discussing their classes.

"I still think Potions is rubbish," Sirius said right away, grabbing a handful of crisps. "It's obvious that Slughorn's got favourites, ain't it?"

"So's History of Magic," said Peter dully. "I could barely keep my eyes open."

"I couldn't keep my eyes open," Sirius muttered.

"What about Charms?" James asked abruptly, his plate stacked high with sandwiches. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

"You and Sirius nearly burnt your hair off," Remus pointed out amusedly.

"So?" James demanded.

"Nothing," Remus said, grinning. "What do we have in the afternoon; does anyone know?"

Peter retrieved his schedule from his bag. "Double Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts," he read, squinting down at it. "We have Herbology with the Hufflepuffs - Greenhouse One, it says. Shall we go?"

"Sure," Sirius said, stuffing a spoonful of thick green stew into his mouth. He then let out a noise of great disgust and spit it out onto his plate.

James laughed, obviously delighted. "Gross."

Sirius was distraught. "Disgusting, that is!" he complained. "It's gone manky, I swear!"

"I like it," Remus said mildly.

They tromped out of the Great Hall and out onto the grounds, where five luscious greenhouses could be seen. A small, plump witch with flyaway grey hair stood nearby the one closest to the castle, smiling and waving gaily. She motioned for the first-years to gather around her.

"Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to Herbology! My name is Professor Sprout, and I'll be your Herbology instructor for your time here at Hogwarts. Now - has everyone got a copy of Phyllida Spore's One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?"

In response, they waved their textbooks in the air. Peter heard Sirius mutter to James, "Damn. I've gone and left mine in our dormitory."

Professor Sprout didn't hear him. "Alright, then! Let's head in!" And with a wave of her wand, the door to Greenhouse One swung open, and she strode inside, the first-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs following curiously behind her.

Walking into the greenhouse was like walking into a different world. Everywhere, there were plants of all shapes and sizes, all emitting some sort of strange noise. Some shrieked, some squeaked, and a particular cluster of yellow daffodils were honking loudly in the back of the greenhouse.

"Right." Professor Sprout said briskly, turning around so she could face the first-years. "This is Greenhouse One, where you'll be spending most of your Herbology lessons for your first year at Hogwarts… yes, Miss Millay?"

A skinny, pale-haired Hufflepuff had raised a shaky hand. "P-Professor… what are those?" he asked shakily, pointing a trembling finger.

Peter looked where she was pointing. Tucked in the right back corner of the greenhouse sat several bags of what looked like wriggling orange tubers, accompanied by bouncing, yellowish bulbs that looked vaguely like onions.

Professor Sprout chucked. "No need to be frightened!" She led the group towards the moving things. "We'll just be potting Bouncing Bulbs today; the worms will help with growth and'll provide some extra food for the bulbs -"

"Extra food?" Sirius muttered, obviously disgusted.

"Come on, each person grab a bulb and a bag of worms, it's not hard," Professor Sprout said promptly. Reluctantly, Peter, James, Remus and Sirius each grabbed some worms and an armful of bulbs and returned to their table, Sirius now edging away from the snaky orange tubers.

"What's your deal?" James asked, watching Sirius enjoyingly.

"Why do they move like that?" Sirius said, scooting further and further away from them.

"You serious?" Peter asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. He found it quite amusing; tough, rebellious Sirius scared of something like this…

"Yes. Yes, he is," James snorted.

Professor Sprout was now issuing instructions about how to plant their Bouncing Bulb; Remus had gone to get some dirt and fertilizer from the front of the greenhouse, and now the whole place was filled with excited sounds as the first-years rushed to get as many Bouncing Bulbs planted as possible. At that moment, a tall, tan muscley Gryffindor with a thick neck (his name was Martin Lancaster, Peter remembered from when Professor Sprout had taken roll call) approached their table, his eyebrows drawn together in a permanent scowl. Peter hated him the moment he laid eyes on him - he was the one who had jinxed Lily down at the dock. Despite this, he did his best to try and sound polite.

"Hullo, do you need something?" he asked.

"No," Martin replied stiffly. He gazed down at Sirius, who was staring back up at him with a stony expression. "I was just wondering how this moronic, bullying Slytherin spawn got Sorted into Gryffindor."

James got to his feet so fast he almost knocked the table over. The Bouncing Bulbs went flying. "Say that again!" James shouted, his fists clenched tightly in fists.

Martin looked at him, seemingly bored. "Oh, you don't know, then? Alright. Just wondering," he drawled, and wandered away.

James leaned over the table, breathing hard. Apparently it had taken a lot of energy to restrain his anger. "Prat," Peter heard James mutter. Peter had the feeling that James didn't like bullies very much. Roughly, he pulled James back into his seat. "Why does he have to be in our year?" James muttered, staring distastefully at the writhing orange worms.

"Do you know him?" Peter asked, trying to calm him down a bit.

James ran a free hand through his hair. "Nah," he said, relaxing a little. For a moment, he watched the other students milling around. "I just don't like bullies that much… still, every school's got one of those, eh?"

"Yeah," said Peter, not really listening. He was looking at Sirius, who looked positively grey. He was staring down at the floor underneath the table, not moving at all. He seemed to be blocking out the entire world.

"Er…" Uneasily, Peter reached over and tapped Sirius's arm. "You alright, mate?"

Slowly, Sirius raised his head and looked at Peter, who almost fell off the bench in surprise. Sirius's eyes… they looked dead.

"Yes," Sirius whispered. "Yes, I'm fine." He obviously wasn't, his voice sounded dead as well.

James turned to look at Sirius now. "No, you're not." There was an air of finality in his voice. "Don't listen to Lancaster, he's just a stupid -"

Sirius's lips moved soundlessly for a moment before he finally spoke. "I know Martin. He's a family friend."

"What?" Peter and James said at the same time. A family friend… Sirius was a Black, Peter had almost forgotten…. That was why Martin had called Sirius "Slytherin spawn"... But if Martin was a family friend, wouldn't he be obligated to the same insults he had given Sirius?

Sirius kept gazing at them almost mournfully, then stared down into his lap again. At that exact moment, Remus came back over, his hands soiled and carrying a huge sack of dirt. "I swear, I'll smell for weeks," he was complaining, setting the bag down beside their table. "I'm not exactly sure how we should do this, I heard Professor Sprout say that -" Just then, he noticed James and Peter with their mouths agape and Sirius staring sadly at the floor. "What…" Remus started, his voice fading.

"Lancaster," James said angrily.

"Ah. Was he the one throwing dragon dung at everyone earlier? Because I do believe that won't be Professor Sprout's preferred type of fertilizer for much longer."

Peter stared up at Remus, who was ruffling his hair and looking down at the top of Sirius's head. Remus probably had to be the weirdest bloke he'd ever seen. Not only did he speak oddly, like he'd never been around another human being in his life, but he had this very strange look about him. Like he'd been living a cave for the past ten years and he'd just decided to come out. Almost… shrunken.

Peter watched as Remus squashed himself between James and Sirius. "Feel alright?" he asked, like Sirius had just stubbed his toe.

"Is he bullying you because you're a Black?" burst out James furiously; Peter gave James a warning glance. Obviously Sirius was uncomfortable speaking about his family. This probably wasn't the best time to bring it up…

Sirius seemed to think so as well. But nonetheless, responded. "Yes." He looked worried, yet angry.

"Well, why would he do that?" James asked indignantly. "He's just as bad as you are, worse, I'd say -"

Remus frowned. So did Peter. "That's not helping," he pointed out.

"I hate them," Sirius said suddenly, shaking with fury. "My family, they're a bunch of self-righteous prats-"

"So is Lancaster, what difference does it make?" spat James.

"The Blacks are more… well, obvious," whispered Sirius, wringing his hands in his lap. "They're pureblood obsessed, they're violent, they're vicious and hate anyone who isn't -"

James interrupted. "But you don't, do you?"

Sirius was startled. "What?"

"You're not pureblood obsessed, you're not violent - well, you are sometimes -"

"You've haven't even known me for a full day!" Sirius protested.

James held out his broken glasses for Sirius to see. "Look what you did yesterday!"

"Here, let me." Between James and Sirius, Remus was smiling, though his face was rather blank. "Occulus Reparo."

Peter watched as the glasses magically mended themselves. Beside him, James grinned brightly and slammed the glasses back onto his face. "The point is, Sirius, you're not like your family. You're not a Black, not if you don't want to be."

Sirius's eyes got wider and wider as he began to process just what James was saying. Peter could imagine what Sirius was thinking: He didn't have to be a Black. He didn't have to be a puffed-up, power-crazy lunatic who always stuck by the rules and was obsessed with petty, unimportant things… He didn't have to be a Black!

Sirius then leapt to his feet, shouted some garbled nonsense, and flung the bag of wriggling orange worms at Martin Lancaster - it hit him smack in the face and burst, causing putrid, jelly-like sludge to leech out, staining his robes.

"That was bloody brilliant!" James roared as they trekked back towards the castle. Sirius's sudden act of rebelliousness had taken its toll - ten points from Gryffindor - but it had been worth it, seeing Martin's look of disgust as he pulled the writhing orange things from his robes; they had small, sucker-like mouths, and had refused to come off of him. James had been laughing for five solid minutes, and even now his laughter had not ceased. Sirius was grinning broadly, while Peter felt himself smile as well, feeling happy that one of his close friends was happy. Remus, however, was the only one was recalled a serious demeanor; he was searching around in his bag for his schedule.

"What have he got next?" he wondered aloud.

Sirius glanced over at Peter. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is what you said, right?"

"That's right."

They made their way through the Great Hall and down another corridor, soon finding themselves in classroom that was totally bare. No sort of picture or poster hung on the walls, the floor was wooden - creaky and unfurnished - only tables, rickety and unstable (only able to seat two), stood there, accompanied by equally uncomfortable-looking straight-backed chairs.

James looked around for a moment, confused. "Peter, check the schedule. Are you sure you've got the right room?"

Bemused, Peter tugged out his schedule. "Yes… it's correct," he murmured. Then why did this room look so… ancient? And unprepared?

Sirius yanked the same schedule out of Remus's bag and checked it against Peter's. "It's the same," he announced after a few moments. "What do you reckon?"

"Either we're mistaken, or the professor's taste in creativity is rubbish," Remus muttered, glancing down at the schedule with Sirius. "Come on, let's get good seats."

They grabbed the chairs in the front of the room and placed their books and bags there, wandering aimlessly around the place. By that time, the rest of the first-years had arrived and were asking the same questions as they had. As more and more students arrived, the classroom gradually got louder and louder. Soon everyone was practically yelling at the top of their lungs.

There was a flash of movement near the door; for a moment, Peter thought that the professor had finally arrived, but soon saw that it was just another student. Lily Evans stood flushed against the doorway, her cheeks red and her clothes rumpled.

"I'm sorry I'm late Professor, I was -" She stopped when she noticed there was no teacher there, and that she was, in fact, addressing the whole class, which had fallen silent. Furtively, she blushed with embarrassment and hurried towards an empty table at the back of the classroom.

Peter watched her unpack her things, her face a deep set red, the exact same colour of her hair. Remus, who was sitting beside Peter, shook his head, stood up, and slowly made his way towards the back of the classroom. The moment he reached her desk, he smiled. Peter saw him speak to Lily for a minute, but he couldn't make out the words. Then he pointed to the front of the room; Peter saw her glance distastefully at James and Sirius and shake her head. Remus spoke quietly to her for a few more seconds - she sighed loudly, picked up her things, and brought them to the front of the classroom, where she sat down at the table next to Remus and Peter's. Remus followed her and took back his seat, still smiling.

"What happened?" hissed Peter as Remus tugged his textbook out of his bag.

"Lancaster," Remus murmured softly. "He's - er… trying to get her attention."

"We're only in our first year!" said Peter immediately. Remus stared at him, bewildered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

At that moment, the door to the classroom flung open once more, and this time, a very tall, very thin man strutted inside, closely followed by Martin Lancaster.

"Excellent!" he heard Sirius mutter excitedly to James. "The professor's caught him, now we're going -"

"Please take your seat, Mr. Lancaster," drawled the professor, sounding suspiciously like Martin. While James and Sirius exchanged puzzled looks, Martin smirked and took the seat besides Lily. She groaned audibly; at once, the professor noticed.

"Please refrain from complaining in my class Miss Evans. Five points from Gryffindor."

Sirius let out an obvious cry of protest, despite the fact that he had been docked earlier as well. "The class hasn't even started yet, why should you take points from her?"

"I am at complete liberty to take points from whoever and whenever I like, Mr. Black," the professor sneered. "To prove my point… five more points from Gryffindor… for not living up to your family standards."

After hearing this, Sirius was quiet and grew very pale. He stared down into his lap again and did not say another word.

Peter felt something like hatred twist in the pit of his stomach. How unfair! Yes, the professor was at liberty to dock points from his students, but certainly not as freely as this! Peter felt like he should speak up about this, but he kept quiet. He would only lose even more points for Gryffindor.

The professor looked out at them all, unsmiling. "I am Professor Lancaster," he snarled. "And I will be instructing you on how to defend yourselves against the Dark Arts this term. However, I regret to inform you that I indeed will be leaving after the Christmas Holidays, as I have urgent business to attend to." He stopped suddenly there, eyes narrowed, glaring unpleasantly at them all. "Well? What are you waiting for? Take out your books and read Chapter One. Chapter Two will be assigned as homework."

It was quite possibly the dullest thing Peter had ever read. Perhaps, he would've found it interesting if the class hadn't been at the end of the day, when his stomach was growling, or that he just wanted to go back into his dormitory and collapse on his lovely, soft, four-poster bed…

"Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't nearly as good as I thought it would be," Remus murmured quietly as they set off for the Great Hall for supper. "But then again - he isn't a very pleasant person, is he?"

"Be careful," muttered Sirius darkly. "I wouldn't want to be you if little Marty caught you saying that about his dad."

Remus grinned. "You're right. But Martin isn't very little, is he?"

"Not at all," Sirius replied, smirking. Peter heard himself sigh with relief. Sirius no longer seemed to care what his family thought, despite the fact that the Lancasters were a Black family friend, and they were very likely to report Sirius's behaviour to his father and mother. Peter, however, decided not to say this. Sirius was happy, and that was all that mattered for now.

James, like Peter, seemed to be pondering all of this as well. But instead of keeping quiet, he said, "Why didn't you tell us before, Sirius?"

Sirius looked rather alarmed. "What?"

"Why didn't tell us before?" asked James. "That you were a Black?"

Sirius suddenly became interested in the floor; Peter could practically feel the air around them become tenser. "I thought that… well, you would… I mean - you wouldn't like -"

"If you think we wouldn't like you just because you were a Black, you're bloody barmy!" James exploded. Peter watched as Sirius smiled bleakly, then suddenly said,

"You didn't have to hold out on us, mate."

Sirius's smile gradually got wider. "Sorry." Remus, meanwhile, was watching them both with his mouth slightly open.

James sighed, sounding almost relieved. "Today was quite possibly the best and the worst day of my life," he murmured faintly, running a hand through his hair.

"But you haven't had a very long life, have you James?" Sirius pointed out smartly.

"You won't either, Sirius, if you keep being so cheeky," James chortled.

Sirius hit him.

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill: Dumbledore’s Plan (4)

Remus didn't want to put his book away. As the train whistled and shrieked louder than ever, found that his stomach was twisting with nervousness. His shoulder seemed to agree with the pang - his shoulder ached - but then again, his shoulder always ached.

He was tempted to pull down his shirt and glance at it, hoping halfheartedly that he would see nothing there, just smooth skin, like there should be. But he knew there wasn't. His left shoulder was practically mauled; three deep gashes right down to the bone, torn flesh and popping veins. It seemed to bleed regularly - once a month. At the full moon.

Remus frowned as his shoulder twinged a bit more. It always seemed to when he was nervous.

Sirius, meanwhile, was staring out the window, a combination of eagerness and edginess etched on his face. "We'd better get our robes on," he said, his lips pursing. "Ah. I've gone and left mine in the other compartment."

"Mine's in my trunk - in the middle of the corridor," James muttered, almost embarrassed.

Remus heard himself laugh. "How'd you do that?"

"It was Sirius's fault!" James prompted.

"Was not!"

"I'll change here," Remus said quickly, trying to look as casual as he could. But Sirius and James just shrugged and wished him farewell as they left the compartment, slamming the door shut firmly behind him. Remus watched them leave, then practically collapsed, sighing with relief. He was glad he had been acquainted with some of the boys in his year, he really was, but... it scared him that they had been so friendly. Shouldn't they be frightened of him, shouldn't they shrink back with fear?

They don't know, Remus thought sadly. And he couldn't let them know. Not ever.

Slowly, he got to his feet, hissing with pain as he rolled his sore shoulder. It wasn't agreeing with him, not like it ever did. It ached and burned, feeling as it always did - like it was going to fall off. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to examine the windows of the compartment facing the hall. Thank God they had shades. He yanked them down with unnecessary force, causing them to snap and fall to the floor; he repaired them with a wave of his wand. To be honest, he felt odd, having to wave a wooden stick in order to do magic. Remus had grown up around magic, of course, but his father refused to use his wand, as they were living like Muggles. Remus, however had used "extraordinary magic," Dumbledore had said, well beyond the Ordinary Wizarding Level since he was three. Both wandless and non-verbally. Dumbledore was very impressed.

"Wonderful!" he remembered Dumbledore exclaiming, watching as Remus lit his father's cigarette from across the room. "But of course, once you know the incantation, the spell will be stronger, you know..."

Remus, in turn, was very impressed by Dumbledore. He had come all the way from... wherever he came from, just to see Remus and personally give him his Hogwarts letter! Remus recalled flushing with pride. He had felt like he was meeting a celebrity.

"Well, I am on a Chocolate Frog card..." Dumbledore had started, winking.

Remus turned round now, tugging his robes out of his duffel bag. They were remarkably shabby and ancient; his parents hadn't bothered to hide the fact that they couldn't afford new ones. But Remus was honored to wear these to Hogwarts. They had been his father's when he had gone to school there. But he had been bigger than Remus was. And by a lot, Remus thought as he pulled on the robes. Yes, he had been about the same height, because length wasn't a problem. The sleeves, however... They hung about two inches below his hand - he had to roll them up three times. But Remus wasn't bothered much by this. After all, they hid the scars and cuts crossing over his wrists and hands.

There wasn't a mirror in the the compartment, and Remus was grateful. He hated looking at his reflection. His mother always told him what a handsome little boy he was, but he never had believed her. His blonde hair, always scruffy and rumpled, hung in misshapen curls around his face, and his face was just as scarred as his hands - perhaps worse. There were long, unhealed scratches that rode along his cheekbones, which stood out unnaturally far. And his eyes - to him, at least - were the worst of all. They were the features he despised, because they... in a way... revealed him...

They were abnormally large, and grey, a deep grey. His mother always said that she saw bits of blue in them. But flecks of bright amber stood out in them, not noticeable at first. But as the day of the full moon approached...

Remus shoved his Muggle clothes back into his bag and strode out of the compartment, trying not to wince as his shoulder twinged. The last full moon had been his worst yet...

Screaming. Scratching. Heavy thuds and bangs. Howls. Blood.

Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

He kept his head down as he passed the other compartments, as he didn't want to draw attention to himself. He didn't want anyone to look at him, he didn't want anyone to come near him. If they were smart, they would know already, the symptoms were too obvious. September 1st was only a week after the full moon, and Remus was still struggling to recover from the torturous night, shackled to a cabinet, all alone in a tiny, dug-out basement.

He shuddered just thinking about it.

The train screamed again, its whistle shrieking like an irritated banshee. Hastily, Remus left the Hogwarts Express, the scarlet, smoke-bellowing steam engine. But he had entered, quite unknowingly, into a large pod of very confused first years. They clumped together, practically frozen, staring up at the other students leaving the train, leaving the platform -

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

A giant of a man was standing a few feet away from Remus, with a wild matted mane of dark hair and bright, beetle-black eyes under bushy brown eyebrows. From the looks of it, he seemed to wear a huge, weather-beaten old coat, and carried a lantern about as big as Remus. Some girls standing behind Remus squealed with fright. The man just chuckled. "No need ter be frightened!" he laughed. "I'm Hagrid - Keeper o' Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts. Now you'll want ter follow me - we'll be leavin' for the boats in a few..." His voice faded as he pulled out a rusty pocket-watch that was more square than it was round. "That's them! Let's go," Hagrid declared, and, raising the lantern a bit higher, descended from the platform and headed towards what looked like a dock. The first years obeyed, but ruefully. For a moment, there was just the sound of robes swishing through grass and wind whistling through hair. Then the almost haunting noise of water lapping the shore...

"Aright, head in, no more than four to a boat!" Hagrid bellowed; the first years jumped and swarmed the rickety old boats tied up beside the dock. Remus glanced around nervously for a nearly-empty boat, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius and James already seated in one, beckoning. Well, James was flailing more than beckoning, but still.

Suddenly, he felt a hand slap his shoulder - a hand the size of a dustbin lid. Remus almost fell over. Startled, he turned round to see Hagrid standing there, somehow managing to look both fascinated and concerned at the same time. "Yer Remus, aren't ya?" he asked, in an unusually gentle voice.

"Y-yes," Remus squeaked, staring up at him. True, he was very large and rather intimidating, but there was a flicker of kindness in his beetle-black eyes.

"I've heard 'bout ya."

Remus nearly choked on his own tongue.

How did he know? How could he possibly know? Remus tried to relax himself. He hid his panicked expression with a mask of calm. "What?" His voice was still shaky.

"I know what ya are."

Oh, no. Oh, no. Here it comes, Remus thought, with the all-too familiar feeling of oncoming dread. This giant of a man had discovered his secret. Now Remus was going to be forced to leave the school no doubt... his mother would be so disappointed... she had believed he'd finally found a place where he could learn and make friends... at Hogwarts...

This had to be a new record. Hagrid had found out his secret in five seconds flat.

Remus felt himself sag with disappointment. "I'll go now," he muttered, turning round against the sea of first-years. Behind him, Hagrid made a strange sound in his throat as he whipped Remus around again, almost sending him straight into the water.

"Hold on ther'! Yer not goin'! I just... well-" Hagrid paused awkwardly, then said hurriedly, "If yer ever are lonely, ya know, feel free to come on down and have a cup 'o tea."

As Hagrid turned away, Remus frowned at his retreating back. So... he wasn't going to be sent away? But... he knew! Hagrid knew!

The whole staff must know, Remus thought painfully, and something like fear jumped in the pit of his stomach. But the man... he didn't seem to be scared of Remus at all. It was almost like he was pleased. In fact, when he had just invited Remus to tea... there was something like understanding in his voice.

"Come on, budge up, make a space!" Hagrid bellowed at some frightened-looking first years, who quickly cleared a path for him as he made his way towards his own boat. Remus, surprisingly, found himself smiling after him.

At that moment, someone smashed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground. The dock, scratched and wooden as it was, scraped Remus's hands even worse. He winced as he felt new wounds rip the old ones open, blood slowly running down between his fingers.

"Move it, runt!" A thick-necked, muscley boy sneered. He and his cronies, each one just as big as he was (or bigger), pushed themselves forwards, shoving other first-years out of the way. No one stood up to them - that is, until they came face to face with a very short girl with thick red hair and bright green, almond-shaped eyes. Even from his place on the ground, Remus could see that freckles dotted her thin face. He recognized her... she was the girl who had been crying in his, James, and Sirius's compartment.

The girl didn't move. A stubborn look of resilience was on her face; it didn't twitch a bit. The girl behind her, however, looked very frightened. She tugged on the girl's arm, her straight brown hair flapping limply around her face. "Leave him be, Lily, he's not worth it!" she cried desperately. But the red-haired girl stood her ground.

The boy who had pushed Remus over (obviously the leader) got a sick, twisted smile on his face that made Remus's stomach turn. "Look lads, here's a catch!" he laughed, flicking a stray hair out of Lily's face, leaning in close. Immediately, Lily shrieked and did the first thing that came to mind - she slapped him. He was sent flying backwards.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed. The boy snarled - his hand went into his robes for his wand and brandished at Lily. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then -

"Flipendo!" he shouted. There was a loud bang, and all of a sudden, Lily was gone, and there was a loud splash. It all happened in seconds - Lily had fallen into the lake.

"LILY!" The boy with greasy-hair and a hooked nose (Snivellus? Er... Severus) dashed to the edge of the dock, peering down into the depths. James, Remus could hear, wasn't worried at all. In fact, he was laughing.

"What's the matter, Snivellus?" James called loudly. "Have you lost your girlfriend?"

"I expect she's gone to go out with the giant squid - I would, rather than go out with you," hollered Sirius, roaring with laughter.

Wiping his bloodied hands on his robes, Remus pushed himself to his feet and went to stand beside Severus, who was staring down at the water anxiously.

"What do you want?" Severus murmured angrily; he sounded both furious and panicky.

Remus was silent for a moment. But suddenly, someone spoke on the other side of Remus.

"Er... isn't someone going to go get her?"

Remus turned. A second boy was standing off to his left, staring up at Remus expectedly. He was wider than Remus, and about a head shorter, but his small, watery eyes were wide and eager, in a way.

Severus heard him. Embarrassed, he lowered his head and muttered something about not being able to swim. Remus ogled him. "You can't swim?" He was honestly surprised. Even his parents had managed to find time to teach Remus how to swim; he remembered being confused and asking his mother why it was so important.

"It's an essential part of childhood!" she had replied playfully, slapping him with a dish towel. That had been one of the better years. They didn't have to move away for the best part of six months.

The boy on Remus's left ran a hand through his thick pale hair. "I can't swim either," he said pointedly.

By now, Severus was practically hopping up and down. "Someone has to get her, she's going to drown!" he screamed.

Finally, Hagrid glanced over at them. "What's goin' on here?" he grumbled, lumbering towards them.

"Lily's fallen in the lake - " Severus started.

"I'm getting her, sir," Remus heard himself state. Calmly, he pulled off of his robes, still wearing his loose white T-shirt and brown slacks underneath. He stepped out of his worn but warm sneakers - the cold wind ruffled his hair and bit his nose, causing his arms to erupt with goosebumps.

Severus eyed the scars on Remus's arms warily. "What happened?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing.

Thankfully, Remus was used to people asking about his scars, that is, if they ever saw them. "I have a cat," he said convincingly, and with that, dived straight into the lake.

He regretted it the moment he'd done it. The water was absolutely freezing - his hands and feet were completely numb. He couldn't even feel his own face. The blood in his veins seemed to have turned to ice.

Focus! Remus told himself firmly. He had to find Lily, and fast. He didn't have much time; either he would run out of air, or she would. He suspected the latter, as she had been underwater longer than he had. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

But Remus was in luck. Far, far below, he noticed a flash of red hair. It was her! But she was very pale, she wasn't moving, and her lips were blue. She floated lifelessly, her eyes closed and her mouth slack.

She was unconscious. That was never good. Furtively, he swam towards her and seized both her arms, dragging her behind him in a tow. As quickly as he could, Remus turned towards the surface of the lake and paddled upwards. At first, he had thought that this would be much slowly, as he was not able to use his hands because he was carrying Lily, but in fact, Remus found himself swimming faster than he normally would've been able. Bemused, he turned to look behind him, and was startled to see a huge, sucker-covered tentacle gently pushing Lily and Remus forwards, moving them along. Remus had heard rumors of a giant squid in the lake near Hogwarts, but he would have never believed it to be true…

Splash! He broke the water's surface, panting and choking and gasping for air. Lily, however, remained limp and lifeless, like a rag doll.

"Get outta the way!" roared Hagrid, who had seemed to take charge at last. One-armed, he tugged Remus and Lily out of the way. While Remus tumbled clumsily onto the dock, Severus hurried forwards.

"Will she be alright?" he yelled anxiously. Nearby, James and Sirius sniggered.

Hagrid didn't answer; he merely reached inside his moleskin coat and whipped out a large pink umbrella - he pointed it at Lily - she coughed - water came gushing out of her mouth -

"LILY!" Severus leapt forwards, rushing to her side. "Lily! Lily, are you alright?" Remus watched as Lily furtively flushed a bright pink, obviously embarrassed. But she clutched Severus's arm for support as she struggled to stand.

Hagrid, meanwhile, glared angrily at the boy who had jinxed Lily. "And I'll report ya later," he was saying. "I'll make sure to have a word with yer Head o' House once yer Sorted." At this, the boy's stubborn expression flickered; Remus chuckled a little as he reached down to retrieve his robes. No doubt the boy was frightened about the Sorting. He had probably heard that each first year had to battle a mountain troll in order to be Sorted. But Remus knew better. Dumbledore and his father had filled him in.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, right on the place where he had been bitten. Instinctively, he jerked away, almost falling over, only to see the girl with the red hair standing there with wide eyes. Now she was wrapped in Hagrid's jacket, looking very small in the oversized coat. She was frowning slightly, staring down at Remus with those big green eyes.

Remus might've thought she was pretty if he wasn't so scared. "What?" he asked. His shoulder burned.

To Remus's surprise, her frown melted right off her face. "Thanks," she murmured, her gaze dropping. "For saving me, I mean."

Remus laughed a bit and stooped down to pick up his robes. "That's alright. It's these robes, isn't it? They're so heavy; it's impossible to swim in them, am I right?"

It took her a moment to realize that he was sparing her from embarrassment. "Oh…" She took on a serious expression. "Yes. Well."

"Yes," Remus repeated, lips pursed.

"Yes," she said again, trying her best to keep a straight face. Then, at the exact same time, they burst out laughing - she looked quite strange, flapping her arms in the too-long sleeves of Hagrid's moleskin coat. She smiled at him, extending a freckled hand. "I'm Lily. Lily Evans."

He saw himself grasp her hand and shake it warmly. "Hullo, Lily. I'm Remus."

"Remus what?" she asked jokingly.

"Lupin," he said, grinning. He noticed how small her freckled hand was in his pale, scarred one.

Just then, he heard James shout nearby. "Oy, Remus! Are you coming over here, or are you going to get married?"

Remus noticed Lily wrinkle her nose and depart for a separate boat with Severus while Remus headed over to Sirius and James; James's glasses were broken and Sirius had obviously been hit with a Tickling Charm. He was bent over, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Remus came over. "What happened."

"What happened?" James asked angrily, fingering his broken glasses. "Sirius is a prat, that's what."

"Finite," Remus muttered with a wave of his wand, pointing it at Sirius. He ran a hand wearily through his hair. "Something tells me I'm going to regret being friends with you two."

Sirius sat upright, grinning like a crazy person. "Nah," he said convincingly, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes. "Come on, get in, we'll be leaving in a second."

Remus stumbled into the boat and seated himself between James and Sirius ("So you won't kill each other," he told them.). It was hard to believe that the boats were magical; they were extremely rickety and looked like they might fall apart any second.

"Excuse me," someone murmured behind them. "Is there any - I mean, could I sit with you?" A boy stood there, the same boy who had spoken to Remus earlier. Quite short. Pale, blonde hair. Small watery eyes.

Remus smiled. "Sure." He watched as the boy clambered into the boat with them. "What's your name?"

"Peter," the boy said, returning Remus's smile. "Peter Pettigrew. Yours?"

James grabbed Peter's hand and shook it with both of his. "Pleasure to meet you, good sir. My name, which is much better than yours, by the way, is Sirius, after one of the stars in the noble constellation Canis Major-"

"I don't sound like that!" Sirius yelled, roughly shoving James, who was still talking.

"... and, if I might add, is the most admired constellation in the entire universe-"

Peter glanced at Remus. "Are they always like this?" he asked unnecessarily.

"Yes," Remus groaned.

Peter's grin widened, and he laughed a little. "Then we'll have to put up with them together, won't we? At least, for the time being."

Remus laughed too, a bit unnerved that everyone was being so friendly. But, as Peter had said before, he could enjoy himself… for the time being…

"I'm Remus," he said with an air of finality. "That's James, and he's Sirius, if you haven't figured that out already."

Peter smiled, Sirius grinned, and James chuckled. Remus leaned back, resting his hands on his knees. Perhaps this friendship would last longer than customary - for him, at least…

Hogwarts loomed over them. To Remus it seemed quite solitary, a huge, dark thing hidden in a shimmering cloud of mist, almost like it was waiting to be discovered. But despite looking cold and gloomy, the small windows and holes dotted around the castle's pointed towers glowed cheerfully, welcoming them to the magical school.

Remus had a sudden thought. I belong here.

Sirius, meanwhile, was complaining.

"I'm freezing," he muttered, folding his arms over his chest. "Could do with a hot water bottle right now, eh?"

Remus turned to him. "At least you didn't fall in the lake," he replied, just then realizing how cold he was. His teeth were chattering.

Peter grinned at him. "Blimey, looks like you just swallowed a whole box full of Ice Mice! Don't worry-" he added hastily, after seeing Remus's unamused expression. "I'm sure someone will dry you off before the Sorting."

They were interrupted by a loud knocking; Hagrid was pounding on a great door at least four times taller than he was. He banged three times on the huge oak door, and on the third time, it opened. A tall, severe-looking witch stood there, with spectacles perched on her nose and a black pointed hat sitting atop her head. "Yes, come in," she said, and the first years trickled inside, gazing around in awe at the entrance hall. The tall witch led them towards a second door, just as large as the first. She motioned for them to halt, and looked around at them with an expression that suggested extreme impatience.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said shortly. "I am Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, and it is my duty to inform you about the Sorting. Hogwarts is divided into four houses - Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin (she paused dramatically after each one). Each House has it's own strengths and weaknesses, and I assure you, there is no "best House" or anything of the sort."

James snorted obviously; McGonagall glared at him. "Your House is to be like your family ("I hope it's not like my family," Sirius murmured.). And here at Hogwarts, we have a points system. Each triumph you achieve will gain your house points; any rule-breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will be awarded the House cup, which is a great honour."

Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Sirius lean over towards James. "Five Galleons I can get more detentions than you by the end of the year."

"You're on," James said, his face oddly slack.

Peter frowned at them. "But you don't want to lose points, you want to get points! Didn't you just hear-"

"Yeah, but what fun is that?" Sirius said, grinning.

McGonagall cracked the door open and peeked through the crevice. Then closed it, smiling slightly. "We are ready for you now," she announced. Throwing open the door, she marched forwards, the awed first years trailing behind her.

What a sight. A gigantic, enormous room, ten times bigger than Remus's entire house stretched out before him. On the tiled marble floor stood four long wooden tables, each one seating several hundred students, and each one decorated differently. The one farthest to Remus's left was bedecked in green, then bronze, then blue, then red. Candles hovered above, shedding light upon the hall, illuminating the enchanted ceiling which appeared to look like a starry sky. The students seated at the tables, all different ages, whooped and cheered as the first years approached the front of the room, where a lone stool sat. Resting atop it was a very old, very wrinkled-looking hat.

Most of the first years stared up at McGonagall in surprise, and she stared back down at them. "Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words." Right on cue, an elderly man rose from the main table and glided towards the podium set feet behind the stool with the hat. Remus recognized him immediately. It was Albus Dumbledore, no mistake.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. " I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. The first years please note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly…" He smiled. "... forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch-" He signaled towards a very ragged, very grumpy looking man clutching an equally testy-looking cat. " -would like express his feelings about the behavior of students past curfew. Unfortunately, I am unable to tell you this, as most of the words he uses are inappropriate. But as a matter of fact, I found the whole situation extremely amusing-" Dumbledore broke off, his eyes twinkling. "Thank you."

James watched as Dumbledore descended from the podium. "Is he always like that?" he asked. He sounded a bit worried.

"Yes," Remus said immediately. "Yes, he is."

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but abruptly, a burst of song was heard from the front of the hall. A large rip in the rim had opened widely, almost making the hat appear like it had a mouth - apparently it did, because it was singing gaily now perched atop the stool.

There once were two wizards

Two witches there were too

They brought themselves together

And made a magic school.

Each founder's goals were different

As was how they achieved their ends.

Born was Gryffindor, Hufflepuff,

Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.

The lion's house is Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart

Ravenclaw is for the clever ones, the logical, the smart

The badger claims the loyal, the friendly and the true

While Slytherin takes the cunning, no matter what you do.

This is my job, my work, you see

To Sort you, through thick and thin

And with these four Houses noble

Let the Sorting now begin!

Tentatively, the first years applauded, while the rest of the school cheered loudly. The hat, in response, bowed, then went back to looking like it was supposed to look like - an old hat. Remus was quite unnerved. Dumbledore had informed him about the Sorting Hat, of course, but it was still a hat. It wasn't supposed to talk.

McGonagall came forward again clutching a long piece of parchment; this time, she snatched up the hat and held both the hat and the parchment aloft. "When I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your Houses." Casually, she glanced down at the list. "Albright, Priscilla!"

A very frightened little girl went to go sit down on the stool; McGonagall neatly place the hat on her head and stood back. For a few moments, everything was still. Remus watched the girl closely. Her mouth was moving, but her eyes were tightly closed. It looked like she was talking to herself. But suddenly, the hat sitting atop her head twitched.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted. The girl smiled, obviously relieved, and went to sit down at the table clad in bronze. The students seated there shook her hand and patted her on the back, welcoming her to their House.

McGonagall peered through her square spectacles at the parchment before her. "Black, Sirius!"

Beside Remus, Sirius paled visibly and slowly made his way towards the Sorting Hat. James watched him go, frowning.

Peter noticed. "Did you know he was a Black?" he whispered.

"No," Remus and James said at the same time. Even Remus had heard of the Blacks; his father had often raved angrily about them. They were pure-blood obsessed, snotty, and extremely disrespectful to anyone who wasn't a pure-blooded witch or wizard. The Blacks were horrible, terrible people. At least, that was what his father had said.

"What?" James said hoarsely, staring after Sirius. "He can't be a Black; the Blacks are evil!" Apparently, James's parents had filled him in too.

Sirius slid awkwardly onto the stool, now looking as white as a sheet. Peter watched him, one eyebrow raised. "He doesn't look -" He paused. "Well, he isn't nasty, is he? Like a Black?"

James shook his head. "No." Then said darkly, "But he might turn out to be."

McGonagall set the Sorting Hat on Sirius's smooth black hair and swiftly stepped backwards. An argument had seemed to erupt between Sirius and the Hat: Sirius had his eyes screwed shut and has murmuring something very fast; the Sorting Hat was muttering audibly, though Remus couldn't make it out. Finally, the Hat nodded. It's rim opened wide-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Suddenly, the hall was very silent. Frantic whispering broke out among the four tables, while the one farthest to the right, decorated in red, exploded with hollers of triumph. Sirius's grin couldn't have been wider as he descended from the stool and dashed towards the Gryffindor table. He took his seat quickly and waved at James, who seemed to have forgotten that Sirius was even related to the Blacks.

"He's gotten into Gryffindor! Well done, mate!" James called from across the hall; Sirius gave him the thumbs-up.

"He must have swallowed those Every Flavor Beans after all," Remus added, smirking.

Meanwhile, the Sorting continued.

"Braithwaite, Noah!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Barclay, Olivia!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Calveley, Ava!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The first Slytherin. But the applause remained as loud as ever; the mass of green sitting at the table farthest to the left cheered the loudest. Remus watched Ava hop off the stool and go join the Slytherin table. He wondered whether or not she knew about Slytherin's notorious reputation.

"Dolan, Harper!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Evans, Lily!"

Lily flashed a wide smile at Remus and practically sprinted up towards the Sorting Hat; she wasn't wearing Hagrid's coat anymore and she seemed almost dry, though her hair still looked a little damp.

The hat barely touched her dark-red hair. "GRYFFINDOR!" it announced. Lily grinned as the whole hall exploded with applause.

"Garrad, Logan!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Halliday, Sebastian!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Kilbee, Addison!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Lupin, Remus!"

Remus's heart leapt up into his throat. His turn, already? His gaze locked onto the Sorting Hat, sitting there helplessly atop the tall wooden stool. Now that it was his turn… he was scared. He didn't want to be Sorted. What if he was Sorted into Slytherin?

Your House doesn't define who you are, Remus told himself defiantly, and advanced towards the front of the hall. It was then when he noticed that something odd had happened. All the wizards and witches seated at the staff table had swiveled round towards him, craning their necks and squinting, attempting to get a good glimpse of him. One tiny wizard with a shock of white hair was practically hopping up and down, trying to see. Remus felt himself go red. The whole teaching staff knew. Worriedly, he caught Dumbledore's eye; he just nodded and winked. Swallowing hard, he stepped up towards the Sorting Hat and clambered up onto it. Wringing his hands in his lap, Remus felt McGonagall place the hat on his head. It was so large it slipped down until it covered his eyes.

"Ah," the hat said immediately; Remus almost jumped. The hat was speaking to him! "Well, well, well. This is a first."

Remus didn't know what to say. "You know -"

"Of course I know," the hat snorted. "I can see inside your head, how else am I supposed to Sort you?"

Remus said nothing. He was embarrassed that he had been outspoken by a hat.

"Cleverness, lots of it, I see… Very talented for your age, but… hmm, not there, no… ah, there's something there, I see it, so perhaps… yes…

Remus's hands grew sweatier and sweatier in his lap. He gripped his wrist so hard his whole hand turned white.

"Good luck," the hat muttered suddenly, in a very different tone of voice. "You'll need it."

"Wait," Remus started. What did the Sorting Hat mean? Was it trying to warn him? "Wait what - ?"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat proclaimed. Remus heard himself gasp with relief; he had been Sorted into the same House as Sirius and Lily! At that very moment, Sirius stood up at the Gryffindor table and, putting two fingers in his mouth, whistled. Lily stood up too, clapping and beaming.

Remus went to go sit beside Sirius, who had recalled a solemn demeanor. "Did the Sorting Hat say anything to you?"

Sirius paused for about a minute before answering. "Nah."

"You're a bad liar," Remus pointed out, turning back towards the Sorting.

"Mann, Lucas!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Am not," Sirius shot back loudly.

"Shh!" Lily scolded, applauding as Meadowes, Dorcas and McKimmon, Marlene both joined the Gryffindor table. They seated themselves next to Lily, who promptly struck up conversation.

"Nesbitt, Carter!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Ottley, Scarlett!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Pettigrew, Peter!"

Peter squirmed uncomfortably on the stool as the Sorting Hat was set atop his head. A full three minutes passed before the hat finally reached a conclusion.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Thus Peter joined them at the Gryffindor table.

"Potter, James!" James, now visibly pale, strode forwards. Only a few seconds later -

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"YES!" James shouted, pumping his fist. He dashed over to the Gryffindor table and smashed himself between Remus and Sirius. "I knew it, I knew it, I just knew it!"

"Snape, Severus!"

The hunched, bat-like boy Remus had seen in their compartment loped forward. The Sorting Hat was placed on his greasy black hair.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"No surprise there," Remus heard James mutter.

Peter grinned at them all from across the table. "Fantastic, isn't it?" he asked Remus, watching as Spack, Craven was Sorted into Ravenclaw. "We all know each other, and we've all been Sorted into Gryffindor. It's like fate, eh?"

"HO!" James said loudly before Remus could answer. "There's a looker - see her, Sirius?"

They all looked. St. Claire, Celia had just walked up to be Sorted, and McGonagall was now placing the Sorting Hat upon her blonde curly head. James was right, she was very pretty. Red lips and sapphire eyes that seemed to glimmer brightly, like two stars.

James spoke first. "She's mine."

"Is not!" Sirius objected.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat burst out. James swore under his breath as he watched the girl smile happily and flounce over to sit at the Ravenclaw table.

The Sorting quickly passed after that, and after Vance, Emmeline was Sorted into Gryffindor, Dumbledore returned to his place behind the podium once again. He was smiling broadly.

"If you are all as famished as I am," he started, winking. "There is no more need for words. Let the feast - begin!" With this word, he lifted his arms into the air; suddenly, all four House tables were groaning under what seemed like pounds and pounds of food. Whole roast turkeys sat on platters, soups and stews simmered in silver tureens, fruit, vegetables, all kinds of crisps, pitchers and jugs of sparkling drink… Remus felt his mouth fall open. He'd never seen this much food in his entire life.

James, Peter, and Sirius, meanwhile, were cheerfully helping themselves.

"I can't believe it - I wasn't Sorted into Slytherin!" Sirius shouted triumphantly, helping himself to onion stew. "I can't wait to see what Mother and Father will say-"

"Congratulations, mate," James said, a very odd look on his face. Remus caught his eye; he was still pondering Sirius's pure-blood relatives, Remus could tell.

Peter, however, had noticed nothing, and had dived into the small mound of potatoes heaped on his plate. Remus watched him for a smile, slightly amused, but in the end decided to take a bit of soup and what he thought was a peach. He scanned the hall. Everyone, unsurprisingly, was helping themselves to food and drink. Snape was looking around at the table with wonder, just like Remus. Celia had made friends almost immediately at the Ravenclaw table; she turned to look over her shoulder, caught his gaze, and smiled. Remus felt himself blush and dropped his peach into his soup.

The feast vanished and desserts appeared. Remus abandoned his soup-soaked peach and took a sponge cake. "What do you think happens after we're done?" he asked the others, taking a bite.

James waved one airy hand, the other being covered in treacle tart. "My dad said that we follow our House prefects to the Common Rooms, then our dormitories. Five to a room, I think he said?"

Remus could feel his smile vanish. Dormitories. He would be sharing a room with four other boys for the rest of the school year, no doubt through his entire time at Hogwarts. Remus's mind raced… he wasn't sure he could keep his secret if things were kept like this…

Mouth still full of food, Peter leaned across the table towards Sirius. "Oy, who's that?" he asked, nodding at the back wall. A pale girl with wavy brown hair stood there, still dressed in her Muggle apparel and looking distinctly out of place. "She's looks a bit old to still be going to Hogwarts, doesn't she?"

James turned. "Andromeda!" he said brightly, waving. She saw him and waved back.

"That's 'cause she is," Sirius murmured, somewhat cross. "My cousin - Dumbledore sent her a message along with my Hogwarts letter - urgent, apparently." He stabbed a baked potato with his fork. "I think he wants her help with something."

So Sirius disapproved. Remus didn't know why. He might've been protective of her, but she was well older than he was. Perhaps Sirius had a grudge against Dumbledore…

"Alright, that's the time!" A very tall, big-eared boy called near the end of the table. He stood, and the rest of the Gryffindors stood with him; Peter, James, Sirius and Remus all stumbled to their feet. "Gryffindor first-years, follow me! The rest of you - well, you know where you're going!" The hall echoed with laughter as three-fourths of them departed.

The big-eared boy spoke again. "My name is Liam, Liam Haverstock. I'm one of your House prefects, and I'll be showing you your dormitories along with the Gryffindor Common Room, where you'll be spending most of your time."

"Told you," James hissed elbowing Sirius in the stomach. Sirius hit him.

"Right then, follow me!" Liam announced, and promptly turned on his heel, leading them quickly towards a spiral staircase. The gaggle of first-years noisily followed, but Remus felt a warm, long-fingered hand tug on his shoulder and spin him around. Professor Dumbledore stood there, smiling once again.

"Do you mind, Mr. Lupin?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"Not at all," Remus began, a bit confused. Peter, James, and Sirius were as well. But Remus shoved them forwards, muttering out of the corner of his mouth, "It's fine," and followed Dumbledore up a different spiral staircase, made of marble and decorated elaborately with decorative carvings. Suddenly, the staircase seemed to lurch, Remus toppled over, and everything shifted, everything seemed to be moving, everything was spinning - !

"Professor!" Remus shouted, panicked.

Dumbledore was still standing beside Remus, hands folded in front of him. "Not to worry," he replied calmly. "It's just the staircases, they like to move. We'll be there in a moment."

Moving staircases and talking hats! Remus couldn't believe it.

After ascending another moving staircase, Dumbledore and Remus found themselves standing before a rather ugly gargoyle in front of a blank wall. No other students were in sight.

Dumbledore leaned forwards as if to speak to the gargoyle. "Pear drop," he said, very slowly and clearly.

"Correct," the gargoyle muttered hoarsely, and, to Remus's astonishment, shifted aside to reveal a huge oaken door. Dumbledore pushed open the door without hesitating and marched inside.

"Come in, Mr. Lupin. This is my office."

"Your office…" Remus strode inside after him; the door shut by itself - very gently, but he could hear the resounding click! that seemed to echo all around him. Dumbledore's office, was, in fact, very large and circular, and was no doubt one of the most fascinating rooms Remus had ever been in. It was a beautiful place, with gold-trimmed portraits on the walls and a floor made of marble. It was also full of odd little sounds. Many curious silver objects sat on short, flat tables, whirring and spinning and emitting puffs of smoke, each one shaped differently. Tucked in the corner was an enormous claw-footed desk, made out of a wood that looked very expensive. On that desk lay a large piece of parchment, obviously written upon earlier that day.

Dumbledore was standing in the center of the room, watching Remus very closely. "Do you know why you're here, Mr. Lupin?"

"Yes," Remus said immediately. "Er… actually, no. Well…" He paused embarrassedly. "I have an idea." His secret. His… condition.

"You are correct," Dumbledore said without questioning Remus further.

At that moment, the oaken door sprang open again and two women hurried inside - one, tall, and dressed all in white and carrying something heavy in her pocket, the other, dumpy, with flyaway grey hair and a patched, frayed hat. There was also an excessive amount of dirt under her fingernails.

"Ah, Poppy, Pomona!" Dumbledore said, smiling cheerfully. "I was just speaking to Mr. Lupin here-"

Both women's pleasant expression's melted, and they gazed at Remus rather sadly. He felt himself frown.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "This is Madam Pomfrey, Mr. Lupin - the Head Nurse here at Hogwarts - and this is Professor Sprout, your Herbology Instructor. These are the people who will be helping you with your transformations during the school year."

Remus's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. "What?"

"Oh, don't worry." Dumbledore took on a more serious tone. "You won't be transforming inside the school." Silently, he crossed the room and turned to face an open window; he motioned for Remus to come closer. "You see here?"

Remus looked. The fogged glass and the misted grounds made it hard to see anything, but he managed to make out a huge, looming shape nearby. He could see roots about as thick as his own body, a mammoth trunk, and branches that were twisted, but looked surprisingly limber.

Remus frowned. "It's a tree."

"But not just any tree!" Professor Sprout piped up eagerly. "That's a Whomping Willow."

"A Whomping - ?"

"Willow," Dumbledore finished, yanking the curtains shut, blocking the tree from view. "It was planted solely for you, Mr. Lupin. On the evening of the full moon, Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey will lead you out of the school and towards the Whomping Willow."

"The tree will react, of course, it's in its nature-" Professor Sprout began again.

"Er - how, exactly?" Remus asked nervously.

Madam Pomfrey frowned over at Sprout. "It's called "whomping" for a reason," she murmured; Remus gulped.

"Professor Sprout has devised a way to calm the tree momentarily. When she has, Madam Pomfrey will lead you down into a tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow," Dumbledore continued, locking eyes with Remus. "She will lead you into a shack in a small village near here - Don't worry, it will be perfectly safe," he added, when Remus opened his mouth. "We've taken all the necessary precautions."

Remus could feel himself getting warmer and warmer. He had never heard a plan where so many things could go wrong. What if they didn't get to the tree in time? What if Sprout couldn't calm the Whomping Willow? What if He broke out of the shack and attacked someone? Remus shuddered. He could barely think about it.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, was steering Remus towards the door. "It's late, you ought to get off to bed," he said coolly. "Gryffindor, yes? The password, I believe, is 'Dictum Factum'... true, very true indeed…" And just like that, Remus found himself on the opposite side of the office door, standing there, startled and quite confused.

He headed up the next staircase in a dreamy state; it took him a while to realize that he actually didn't know where he was going. And he didn't until a portrait of an irritating monk screamed at him and gave him directions, demanding that he stop clumping up and down the stairs like an elephant. Flushed and sweaty, Remus finally arrived at the so-called Gryffindor Common Room entrance - a framed painting of a Fat Lady. She frowned down at him, her brown acrylic eyes narrowing.

"Password?" she demanded.

Remus was breathless; he had ran up and down several stairs. "Wha - oh, yeah, Di- Dictum Factum."

The portrait swung open and Remus rushed inside. How late was he? Late enough, apparently, because the Common Room was completely empty. The squashy, red armchairs were bare, and the fire in the fireplace had gone out - it was still smoking. Remus found the whole situation rather sad.

At that moment, Sirius came sliding down something out of nowhere; a banister of a staircase, leading up to somewhere Remus couldn't see. Sirius, of course, wasn't looking where he was going, and didn't bother to slow down. He fell right on top of Remus.

"OOMPH!"

Sirius glanced down. "Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you'd gone to."

"So was I," Remus muttered, pushing Sirius off him and getting to his feet. "Is this the Common Room? Do you know where my dormitory is? Who are my roommates?" He did his best not to sound anxious while asking all these questions, but he knew he failed miserably. Sirius, thankfully, did not seem to notice. His face lit up like a beacon.

"OH! Yeah, I know who your roommates are. In fact, they're the best people ever, and… oh, oh, there's this one guy who's really good-looking, and I think his name is Sirius - !"

Remus groaned. "Are you kidding me?"

Sirius frowned. "No! I swear, he's really good-looking!"

Remus found himself smirking. "Fine. Let me guess - I'm sharing a dormitory with you, James, and Peter?"

"Yep."

Remus counted on his fingers. "Then… who's the other one? Didn't James say that there were five to a dormitory?"

Sirius's grin, if possible, got even wider. "That's the best part! See, James was right, there are five to a dormitory. But the thing is - we got the very last room, and that one only has space for four…"

"I'm not going to survive the first semester," Remus murmured, beginning to ascend the winding staircase leading to his dormitory. It was, in Sirius's case, a joke, but Remus meant it literally as well. He was already friends with the four boys in his dormitory… no doubt they would tell everything about themselves… no secrets, no lies…

Remus swallowed. He just had to make sure they didn't find out his biggest secret of all.

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

“It is human nature to think wisely and act foolishly.”

Anatole France

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill - Of Catherine Wheels and Cauldron Cakes

An unfamiliar, tickly sort of rush ran through James as he dashed forwards. He was nervous, true. Who wouldn't be? He was sprinting full-speed towards a very solid-looking brick barrier. But his parents were behind him; he could hear their heavy footfalls, jogging at a slower pace. If he was going to crash violently into the barrier, at least he wouldn't be heading to the hospital alone.

Magic was an odd thing. It was truly a wonder, such a thing practically dangling on the edge of non-existence. Not everyone had magic. It wasn't exactly common, but seemed common enough...

James frowned. All this thinking made his head hurt.

The important thing was: he had magic. His parents had magic. His future friends and professors would have magic.

I love magic! James thought delightedly. Just seconds before he reached the barrier, he let out an exhilarated whoop and picked up speed. He knew deep down that the magic would kick in.

And he was right. Passing through the barrier was easy; it was as if he had simply stepped through a porthole into another world.

Indeed he could have. Platform nine and three-quarters seemed like an entirely different universe. The drab Muggle train station was so... well, boring compared to the pure excitement and bustle in this magical place. Everywhere, there were people, all witches and wizards, all crowded together on the platform, some trying to board the train, some attempting to leave it, some forced the crowd to part so they could walk through (there weren't many of these), while others simply wandered around aimlessly in circles, quite lost and unsure of what they were doing there.

James resisted the urge to laugh. It reminded him vaguely of a large school of fish, all trying the head different ways, but giving up eventually and just going along with the tide.

Something small and warty hopped near his foot, and he drew back quickly. A toad. Now that he thought about it, James realized that animals occupied at least half the platform. Rats scuttled by, the hairless tails whipping around in the air behind them. Bandy-legged cats, of all shapes and sizes, howled and meowed in their cages, scratching the metal bars with their claws, their bright eyes following the skitter rats hungrily. And the owls. Great-horned, moon-faced, snowy, speckled... absolutely everywhere. Nestled in cages, beaks under their wings; resting comfortably, perched on their owner's shoulder, or soaring overhead, hooting and screeching and shedding feathers and droppings. There was quite a racket.

James felt himself grin. He thought it was brilliant. He wondered if he could get away with dropping dung on someone's head.

His thoughts were interrupted by a very loud, very long whistle that obviously emitted from the giant red and gold steam engine that rested impatiently by the platform, almost like a restless cat, ready to spring and pouch on its prey. A middle-aged, portly man with dark hair and a darker cap (who James guessed was the conductor) patrolled the station, pointing at his watch and shouting something James couldn't hear. His father, however, could. James felt him squeeze his shoulder.

"It's leaving." James could barely hear him murmur. "Come on, you'd better get on."

Gently, he guided James towards the train, towing his belted trunk behind him. In it contained everything James would need: extra clothes, socks, shoes, underwear, snacks, his schoolbooks, extra parchment and ink, photos of his parents if he got lonely...

"I still don't see why I can't have an owl," James complained as they neared the train's boarding doors.

His father grinned slightly. "If you pass first year..." he said, with an air of sarcasm. "... with no detentions. Then, perhaps."

James pouted. "Please?"

His father's grin widened as he ruffled James's hair. "We'll see."

James's mother pushed through the crowd, finally reaching her son and husband. "Have you got everything?" she panted breathlessly. "Your books, your robes?"

"I seem to have forgotten my owl," James replied calmly. His father groaned and nudged James forward, who just grinned and began ascending the steps to board the train.

"Wait!" his mother shouted suddenly, rushing forwards. Hastily, she crouched down and planted a kiss between James's eyebrows. "Good luck, my darling," she whispered. James felt himself smile.

Whheeeeee! The whistle blew again, louder this time, following by a series of ringing bells. Smoke began to pour from the smokestacks; the conductor was shutting the doors of the passenger cars.

"Goodbye, son," his father said, almost proudly, and extended his hand. James took it, smiling broadly and he shook it. It made him feel like a grown up.

Then he wasted no time. He clambered aboard the Hogwarts Express, grunting as he towed his trunk in behind him. And just in time. The conductor had arrived at the door of his passenger car; with a bang, he slid it shut, locked it, and moved on. For a moment, the train remained stationary. James watched his parents embrace each other, kiss, and stare at James silently through the glass windows. James stared back, equally silent.

There was an abrupt clanging noise, then a sound like a gun going off. Almost immediately, smoke and sparks covered the whole exterior of the train from view. But James could hear metal starting to grind against metal, levers clanking, pistons pumping-

Another whistle. The train lurched forward, none too gently, and began to move. James's eye twitched. He still couldn't glimpse his parents through the thick haze of smoke. Desperately, he lunged forwards, pressing his face against the window, straining to see. He wasn't the only one. A few others had glued their noses to the glass as well; one boy had quite literally face-planted it.

Thankfully, the witches and wizards still on the platform had made way for the parents and guardians of those who had boarded the train; they knew that September the first was a very busy day for most. The start-of-term. The day they would board the train. The day anxious parents would crowd the station, searching for suitcases and spellbooks and lost wands.

Now, all the witches and wizards on the platform stood, waving cheerily, wishing good luck, to every single one of them. One energetic little wizard decided to actually set off fireworks - brilliant burning gold fire, silver sparkling lights and shocking ruby Catherine Wheels. Just as the train was rounding the bend, James saw that the fireworks drew all together in the cloudless sky, merging to form a shimmering black "H."

H. Hogwarts.

James grinned. For some reason, he felt special.

Clumsily, James stumbled through the cramped passageway, dragging his large over-stuffed suitcase and trunk. Why had his mother insisted that he practically take his entire room with him? Oh, well. At least he wouldn't get homesick.

James scoffed to himself. Homesick, him? What a laugh! He was on his way to Hogwarts! The best school in the world, his father had said. Just wait. It's just brilliant. The Great Hall, the dormitories, Hogsmeade, even the classes… it's all worth the wait. Trust me. James could already feel his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. He didn't want to wait! He wanted to be there now!

"'Scuse me," he grumbled, squeezing past a tiny blonde girl with a thing that looked like a fluffy pink marshmallow on her shoulder. The girl rolled her eyes. The pink creature made a soft growly noise, then continued purring vibrating softly near her chin. James carefully edged past.

Silently, he scanned each compartment as he passed, still pulling his remarkably heavy luggage. Each carriage was filled, practically to the brim, with students. All from Hogwarts. However, they could've passed as normal, ordinary kids, as they were dressed in their Muggle attire. But several of them were brandishing their wands, performing small acts of magic: making their shoelaces dance and turning their friends' hair bright yellow. In fact, most of the compartments were littered with colourful bits of paper. Sweets, James realized. The witch with the trolley must've been there; he had scrambled past her in the train corridor (she had tripped over his suitcase). Chocolate Frogs, Sugar Quills, Licorice Wands… the trolley had it all. Sweets and treats, beyond your wildest dreams.

His stomach growled loudly, not unlike an angry dog, and he looked down at it with surprise. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was. Thoughtfully, James pondered his options. He had money; a great sack of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts right there in his pocket, in fact. He'd need to find a carriage first, though. There he could relax, tell some cool jokes, throw around a little money, impress the girls. Like always.

James laughed a bit to himself. The people lounging in the compartment he was passing gave him a look; he flushed furiously with embarrassment and moved on.

Grunting, James towed his trunk towards the next compartment. Was it getting heavier? It certainly seemed so. After a few more seconds of straining and tugging, he eventually gave up. Then he had a second theory: what if he pushed it instead of pulling it? But that idea failed as well. He pushed and shoved with all his might. It wouldn't budge. It was like it had been glued to the floor.

James stared at the trunk in disbelief. "How is this possible?" he wondered aloud. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a couple slender girls (he guessed sixth-years) passing him on his right. Thinking fast, he raised his voice a little. "How is this possible?" he practically yelled. "I mean, I worked so hard this summer on my upper body strength! I could almost lift my entire house!"

One of the girls giggled. The other girl, a sullen-faced blonde, just rolled her eyes and yanked her friend back into their compartment; James grinned winningly and waved.

Then someone spoke behind him, so suddenly James tripped over his own trunk and onto the carriage floor. "Wow. Flirt much?" the person chuckled sarcastically, clearly unimpressed.

James groaned as the glasses slipped off his nose. The person standing above him was all blurry, no more than a dimly-colored blotch, like someone had spilled paint on an already-destroyed canvass.

Nonetheless, James did his best to recover. "What's it to you?" he said confidently, seizing his glasses and slamming them back onto his face, almost snapping them in half. He watched as the person slowly came into focus - a boy about his age, maybe a little older. Long dark hair, tan skin, and a cheeky grin that stretched right up to his liquid-brown eyes. The boy shrugged; his smirk didn't fade.

"Oh, nothing. It's just… well." Now the boy's grin wilted a bit. "Bad luck, mate. Both of those girls are already seeing someone."

"Oh, yeah?" James muttered, slowly getting to his feet. Something like hot fire was growing in his stomach - it took him a while to realize that it was the wrenching pull in his gut that he felt entirely too often - competition. He growled at the boy. "How do you know?"

The boy frowned, obviously disliking James's attitude. "They're my cousins." He sounded so bold it made James jealous.

"Oh?" James felt sick. He didn't like this boy. "Sucks for you, then."

"Who are you, anyways?" The boy snapped back. "Nothing you say makes sense!"

James found himself shouting now; he didn't know why. The hot fire that was competition had grown in his stomach, roaring to life like a full-grown lion. He advanced, and leaned in towards the boy, almost spitting right in his face. "I'm James Potter, and I'm better than your sorry ass!" he screamed.

To James's severe disappointment, the boy wasn't even fazed. "My ass is wonderful, thanks very much," the boy replied coolly. "Although I must congratulate you, that was quite a good speech you said there."

James frowned. "Huh?"

"'I'm James Potter, and I'm better than your sorry ass!'" the boy mimed squeakily, waving his hands around his head in mock imitation of James. "Quite good. But my comeback was better."

The lion was shrinking now, quickly being replaced by awe and utter confusion. James swallowed; he felt his cheeks redden. Had he really acted so rambunctiously? "Yeah…" he murmured embarrassedly.

The boy's frown deepened for a moment, then took a few steps back, examining James from head to toe. "What did you say your name was?" he asked. James frowned right back at him.

"James," he responded, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "And you are?"

"Sirius."

James raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

The boy glanced up at him, startled. "What?"

"What are you serious about?" James questioned, perturbed. Was the boy pulling a prank? If so, he really was very good. He looked genuinely confused.

"Serious about… oh, wait." The boy scratched his head. "This happens a lot. Sirius. It's my name. S-I-R-I-U-S. It's a family name."

The boy looked mildly humiliated as he grinned.

Sirius. What kind of name was that? James had absolutely no idea. He had never heard anything like it before.

Countryside rolled by. James could see it through the windows. For several seconds, the two boys just stood there, smiling awkwardly at each other. What time was it? James didn't know. It seemed awfully late; he should've found a compartment by now. Instead, he had collided - rather randomly, he might add - with this strange boy, who, James realized, seemed oddly like him...

Furtively, James scanned the boy - Sirius. Long, chocolate-brown hair that almost reached his shoulders, quite well kept, unlike James's, which stuck up in the back no matter what James or his mother tried. Strong jawline, straight nose, very white, even teeth. Dark eyes - the same color as his hair. Tan skin.

But not as dark as mine, James thought proudly. But Sirius wore nicer clothes than James did - even James thought so. Black dress shoes, black suit pants, and a wrinkled white Oxford shirt, recently untucked. James could tell. He had experience.

Still, he made James feel very underdressed in just jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt.

It's a nice T-shirt, his brain argued.

Finally, Sirius spoke up. "What're you doing in the middle of the hall anyways?" Then he rolled his eyes. "Did you fall over on purpose, trying to get Narcissa and Andromeda to notice you?"

"Who?"

"My cousins. You were making googly eyes at them earlier."

"No, I wasn't," James replied stubbornly. "My trunk is too damn heavy, and I can't find a damn compartment because they're all too damn full."

Sirius's leg shot out as he aimed a powerful kick at the trunk lying there; it didn't move. "Damn right," Sirius muttered, rubbing his sore toe. He scratched his head again.

"BOYS!" Someone behind James scolded. Once more, James tumbled over his trunk in surprise, then groaned, seeing the witch with the trolley standing there. Abruptly, Sirius burst out laughing as James struggled to his feet, swearing angrily.

"Boys, really!" sputtered the witch, shaking a long, gnarled finger at them. "Using language like that - here, on the train! Why, I ought to report you-"

"Excuse me!" A dreamy, yet quite urgent voice interrupted her. James turned. His jaw dropped. An extremely pretty girl had poked her head out of the nearest compartment - the girl who had giggled at James earlier. His heart fluttered when he saw her, despite the fact that she was well older than he was. Still... her features were so soft. Straight brown hair and big brown eyes that drank in everything they saw. Full red lips pulled up in a gentle grin.

"Excuse me," she said again, this time sticking her hand out into the corridor. In her fist she clutched a few golden coins. Galleons. "Could I have a few dozen Cauldron Cakes, please?" She flashed a hopeful smile at the witch with the trolley. "Cissy just can't get enough of them."

The witch was happy to oblige; James and Sirius did their best to appear as preoccupied as possible: brushing at their clothes, bending down, pretending to tie their shoes (Sirius's shoes didn't have any laces), and whistling as obnoxiously as they could. It felt like forever, but the witch finally disappeared, along with the trolley. The girl turned towards them, her arms positively stuffed with Cauldron Cakes.

"Take them, quickly!" she hissed.

"What?" James never passed up free pastries, but now he found himself hesitating. "They're yours!"

"I bought them for you two," she whispered loudly. With these words, she hefted the pile at them, and promptly vanished.

For a few moments, it was simply raining Cauldron Cakes. Then, it stopped, just as suddenly as it had began, and James and Sirius were left standing ankle-deep in pastries.

Sirius broke the silence. "Good old 'Dromeda," he murmured happily, picking up a cake and examining it from end to end. "Always there to get you out of a pinch."

James was speechless. The past events seemed to have gone by in a matter of minutes. "That your cousin?" he found himself inquiring, more curiously than he would have liked. He earned a knowing smirk from Sirius.

"Yep. She's my favourite. Rest are prats." With that, he stuffed a whole Cauldron Cake into his mouth and proceeded to shove the rest of them into James's suitcase. James opened his mouth to ask Sirius just what he meant by that, but he decided not to press him. Sirius was clearly attempting to avoid the matter.

It took them a while, but finally, they managed to stuff every single one of them into James's suitcase, now nearly bulging with treats.

"That's the lot!" Sirius shouted cheerfully; to James, it sounded like garbled nonsense (Sirius had shoved several pastries into his mouth, with the excuse, "Storing them for the winter!"). He couldn't understand a word he was saying.

"Let's go find a compartment," Sirius said suddenly, swallowing with difficulty. "There has to be an empty one somewhere."

James stared at Sirius in disbelief. "What about my trunk?" he complained. It was still sitting there in the middle of the corridor, along with his suitcase simply stuffed with Cauldron Cakes.

Sirius shrugged dismissively. "They'll pick it up one way or another - Hogwarts, I mean." With the air of finishing an important lecture, he peered carefully down the hall. James watched him, finding this all very hard to believe. Just moments before, he and Sirius had been spitting insults at each other. Now he wanted to find a compartment...! It was possible that Sirius was just trying to be friendly, but he didn't strike James as the "friendly" type. More of the "clever, sadistic, sarcastic" type, with just a hint of pride. Well, more than a hint.

James felt himself grin on the inside. Just like him.

James struggled to find something to say. "But... haven't you already got a compartment?"

Sirius rolled his eyes in reply. "Uh, yeah." He thrust a thumb at the carriage behind him; James could see several dark-haired sitting in there, all with the same snooty expressions on their faces. The only one even slightly smiling was the one who had given them the sweets - Andromeda. She waved gaily at them through the window.

"I'd rather sit with you, though," Sirius grumbled resentfully, running a hand through his silky brown hair.

"At least you know how to laugh."

James smiled rather weakly. He didn't know what to say. The way Sirius spoke suggested that he didn't like his family very much - or maybe, perhaps... his family didn't like him. James took another glance at the people in the nearest compartment. Andromeda was now trying to engage Narcissa and the rest of her companions in a seemingly entertaining conversation, but they weren't amused. In fact, most of them were practically ignoring here, gazing out the windows of the carriage and pretending she wasn't there. James watched as her face fell, and he felt a tugging pang in his stomach. He didn't know what it was like to have a family like that - he wouldn't know. As far as he knew, James's mother and father loved him with all their hearts. They gave him anything he wanted (most of the time) and gave the attention that he desired (all of the time). He wondered about Sirius's family, whether or not they loved him, gave him things he would like for Christmas, or provided him with the attention that he obviously needed. Judging by the look on Sirius's face, he doubted it.

James's mind raced. "Okay!" He said this in a purposely squeaky, cheery voice. He held up his arm like he and Sirius were supposed to go walk down the aisle. "Let's go."

Sirius stared at James like he was crazy, but a twinkle in his eye suggested otherwise. "You're weird, mate," he muttered, grinning slightly.

James took this as his cue; he began to skip in frantic little circles around Sirius, still offering him his arm. "I know," he said, now hopping on one leg around Sirius. "My mum says that a lot."

Sirius frowned, or at least, he tried to. "Well then, she's right."

"Says you, pretty boy."

Sirius took up a tone that suggested mock surprise. His hand leapt up towards his mouth as he let out a huge gasp. "James Potter!" Sirius managed to fan himself with his hand and flip his hair simultaneously. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Were you expecting-" But James couldn't take much more, he could barely contain giggles, what with Sirius flipping his hair and fanning himself like some expensive lady - James burst out laughing. Sirius did too. They very nearly fell over each other, screaming with mirth. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw one of the blonde girls in Andromeda's compartment - Narcissa, he remembered - give them a disgusted look. But James couldn't have cared less. And he could tell that Sirius felt the same way.

"Oh, James!" Sirius simpered, still managing to stay in the act. He batted his eyelashes and attempted to constrain violent bouts of laughter.

James chortled in reply, then choked, causing his glasses to slide halfway down his nose. Smirking, Sirius reached over and flicked James's glasses right off his face.

"Hey!" James protested, still chuckling. But Sirius held them out of reach, now getting to his feet, still chuckling. "Come on, give 'em back," James whimpered. Without his glasses, he was staring up at a white and black coloured blur standing above him.

Sirius laughed. "Gotta catch me first, Jamsie." And with that, he took off, faster than James had thought he would. He ran, screaming as loudly as he could, still clutching James's glasses in his fist. He knocked passengers and paraphernalia aside, trying to block James's path. James grinned widely, pushing himself to his feet.

"You asked for it," he murmured, dashing after Sirius. But with slightly less grace; he slammed into the passengers and fell over the paraphernalia as he went.

[harbourstarwilling-blog]

The Marauders and the Hollow Hill - The Beginning

"Accio."

Through the window, she watched the mailbox rattle. A long silver thing, more decorative than most, perched precariously atop an iron rod bent strangely in different directions, like some kind of animal spent it's free time bashing its head against it. She felt herself smile. True, her little boy spent most of his time zooming around on his toy broomstick, and, yes, most of the time, he found himself smashing into the rusting rod more than he would like.

She was proud, of course, very proud of her son. Her only child. For a very long time, she feared that she wouldn't be able to bear children, but, sooner than she expected, her and her husband's wishes came true.

She remembered the day he was born. A Thursday. A drizzly March evening. She didn't remember much, besides distant claps of thunder and a baby crying. Her baby.

Her husband had burst through the double doors leading to the bedroom, delayed by the gaggle of midwives attempting to hold him back. But she had dismissed them with a weak but thankful smile. Her husband had pushed his way forward anxiously. He was worried, frightened, even. She could tell. But she watched his gaze fall on the bundle wrapped tightly in her arms, and all the age and worry seemed to melt from his face. He had looked younger than he ever had.

She felt herself grin wider at the memory of passing the baby to her husband's arms. A tiny thing. Chubby arms, bright hazel eyes. Like his father's. She recalled gently stroking the baby's head. Delicate, thin hair grew there. Black. Like his mother's.

Her husband smiled with delight and excitement, watching the baby stare up at him, cooing softly. Then looked up at his wife, crying silent tears of joy.

She met his gaze, crying too. "We have a son, Fleamont," she remembered whispered. Then he had kissed her, whispering her name in her ear, "Euphemia darling, thank you, thank you, Euphemia…" She had returned the kiss, for she was equally grateful. For a moment, they just sat there, embracing, sobbing into each other's shoulders. The rain pattered lightly on the windowpanes, while the baby let out a cry, seeking some kind of attention.

Finally, Fleamont had pulled away, and glanced down at the child in his arms, who was waving his fat fists frantically. "He's an energetic little fellow, isn't he?" he had said.

She remembered smirking at him. "Just like his father," she replied fondly.

He looked up at her again, eyes sparkling with the tears that shone there. "You're so beautiful," he had murmured, reaching out to stroke her face. The baby wailed again, clawing at Fleamont's jacket, who glanced down at the baby in surprise. "You won't give us a moment's peace, will you?" The baby howled again.

Grinning slightly, Euphemia had eased the child back into her lap. "Not for a while, he won't." She watched affectionately as the baby yawned, stirring a bit in the blankets. "What shall we name him?" Her gaze had flickered up to her husband's. "After your father?"

"Henry? No," Fleamont had said immediately. Then he chuckled. "To be honest, I've never really liked the name." He paused for a moment, keeping his eyes fixed on the child in her lap. His son. "What about your father…"

"James?" She had been startled for a second, then relaxed. Almost relieved. "James," she had said again, in a light whisper. She reached out and grasped her husband's hand. James. Their son had a name.

James Potter.

She felt something warm and wet slipping down her cheek. A tear. She was crying.

Quickly, she wiped it away. Their son. It was a miracle, of course. They had almost given up hope on ever having children. They had been prepared to accept that the mansion Fleamont had inherited from his father would almost always be empty. No longer.

James grew quickly. He was a skilled little boy, quite gangly, but fast, both on his legs and on a broomstick. Neither his eyes nor his hair changed color; his eyes remained as bright as ever, while his hair seemed to grow alarmingly fast in different directions. She had difficulty making it lie flat.

But he was their son. Their only son. With hazel eyes behind thin glasses, a big smile, and very untidy jet-black hair. James Potter.

The mailbox shuddered again, this time, spitting out a series of envelopes that zoomed flew towards her in a great cluster of parchment, each letter attempting to reach Euphemia first.

Sighing, she hurried towards the window and threw the window open. "Alright, one at a time, one at a time!" she shouted. Promptly, the letters halted, rearranged themselves according to when they had been delivered and continued towards the window in a floaty, dreamy fashion as if nothing had ever happened.

"That's better," she muttered, seizing the first letter and tearing it open. A magazine, for Sleekeazy's hair potion. She rolled her eyes. Henry Potter, Fleamont's father, had invented the stuff, and they received ads and notifications about the potion almost daily, despite the fact that Henry had sold the company almost ten years ago.

She tossed the magazine aside, and ripped the next one open. From her sister. Euphemia felt herself smile as she scanned the letter. Then sealed it again and stuffed it into her pocket. She would reply later.

Two more Sleekeazy magazines. A letter from the Ministry for Fleamont. A large mysterious envelope addressed in green ink…

Addressed to James Potter.

She felt her breathing quicken as she flipped the envelope over, her heart practically in her throat. Could it be…?

The Hogwarts crest stared back up at her. A swooping feeling in her stomach made her swell with pride and glee. In all her eagerness, she was filled with a desire to open the envelope and read it herself, but she instead stowed the letter in her pocket. They would read it together, as a family, once Fleamont got home from work. But she couldn't stop smiling as she turned away from the window. Her little boy… going to Hogwarts at last.

Further north, a similar situation was occurring. But not nearly as pleasant.

"Your Hogwarts letter arrived today," Orion Black said stoically, glancing over at his son from across the table. The boy didn't even look up as he pushed the vegetables around and around on his plate. He seemed extremely disinterested.

Orion cleared his throat, and exchanged a dark look with his wife, Walburga, who just rolled her eyes. "Your Hogwarts letter arrived today," he said again, a bit louder.

The boy sat upright, so fast his elbow sent his pumpkin juice flying, staining the drab wallpaper a deep orange. Shaking his long dark hair out of his eyes, he shouted, "Let me guess. You've burnt it. Or you're going to send Regulus to Hogwarts pretending it's me. I expect you will."

Regulus, the boy's younger brother, flushed a deep maroon and picked at his sprouts, pretending he had heard nothing. His mother, however, practically swelled with fury. "How dare you speak to your father that way!" she screamed, raising her hand as to slap the boy across the face. Orion spoke quickly.

"No!" he boomed; Walburga caught his gaze and lowered her arm, her face still contorted with anger. Orion turned once again towards the boy. "No, we haven't burnt it - and we are not going to send Regulus to Hogwarts a year early." His tone suggested otherwise. "You're going to Hogwarts this year."

The boy's eyes widened, then narrowed with suspicion. Something wasn't right.

"Here is the letter," Orion said quickly, reaching inside his robes, and pulling out a slightly wrinkled envelope addressed in green ink. The boy took it and read in wonder.

Sirius Orion Black

12 Grimmauld Place...

He wasted no time. Hastily, he flipped over the envelope and tore open the seal, which, surprisingly, hadn't been broken yet. He unfolded the letter as fast as he could and eagerly read aloud.

Dear Mr. Black,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Sirius didn't even bother to hide a shout of excitement. Finally! Off to school, off to Hogwarts, off to a magical place where his despicable parents could torment him no longer. If he shut his eyes, he could just imagine it... he could spent Christmas and Easter there, away from his family... perhaps the headmaster would even let Sirius stay for the holidays! He could only dream of it. Seven blissful, uninterrupted years away from the disgusting monstrosity his parents called home...

"Sirius," Orion muttered impatiently. Then shouted. "SIRIUS!"

Sirius nearly fell out of his chair, still grasping his Hogwarts letter like it was a lifeline. "Yes, father?" Cool, collected. He might've never been startled.

"Now, before we head to Diagon Alley and buy your things," Orion started. "I want to set a few things straight."

Sirius tensed, rigid in his seat. Something was wrong. Very wrong. It tended to be that way when his parents were so nice. Especially to him.

He watched his father twirl his fork between his fingers. "First of all, you shall not accommodate or associate yourself with blood traitors, half-breeds, Mudbloods, or anything of the sort," Orion began.

"Especially Mudbloods," Walburga hissed, shuddering obviously.

Sirius's mouth was a thin line. He bit his tongue, but said nothing. His parents had gone on about this for ages, it seemed, perhaps their whole lives. They were, the whole Black family, in fact, purebloods, which meant they didn't have a single drop of Muggle (non-magical) blood in their veins. And they wanted to keep it that way. For some reason, they seemed to think that having even the tiniest bit of non-magical blood was a disgrace to wizard kind. "Half-bloods are to be avoided," his mother always said. "And Mudbloods should be ignored entirely." Perhaps, if his mother had his way, she would have all the half-bloods tortured, the Mudbloods killed, and all the Muggles utterly destroyed. And he couldn't even imagine what she would do to the Squibs. God knows.

The pureblood tradition had been passed down through generations of Blacks, and not once had a single person broken the wizard line. Not once had a single half-blood, Mudblood, or Muggle entered the Black family tree.

His mother and father were determined to carry on this tradition.

And Sirius was determined to desecrate it.

All this ran through his mind as he turned to face his parents. "Yes, father," he agreed solemnly.

"You are to treat the Hogwarts teachers and staff with the utmost respect, unless their blood-status proves otherwise," his father ordered, staring down at his son.

Sirius stared right back. Fat chance. He had an eye for pranks, a talent for trouble, as it was often called. He would treat the Hogwarts professors the way he thought they deserved to be treated. And, by God, if any of the teachers were anything like his parents, he would make sure that they would retire in less than six months.

He smiled sweetly at his father. "Alright."

At that moment, his mother jumped in. "And you must be sorted into Slytherin," she demanded, an almost evil smile forming on her lips. Sirius felt the smile melt from his face; he saw his mother sneer distastefully. "Oh, yes," she snarled. "Every single person in the Black family has been sorted into the Slytherin for the past one hundred years. You will not break this tradition, do you understand me?"

Sirius's mind raced. Of course he would break it, along with every other Black tradition that ever existed. What could he say? It was practically his destiny. But.. perhaps this would be something that he couldn't change. His family's house. Slytherin. Every single person in the Black family. Slytherin. One hundred years. How could that be something he could change? He was just a kid. A kid whose parents hated him and whose whole family despised him.

Sirius felt himself grin, and he shoved some potatoes into his mouth. It was perfect. But what house to be sorted into? What house would embarrass his parents the most...?

His grin widened as he swallowed. If he could just convince the Sorting Hat to put him in Gryffindor...

Another letter was received just south of London.

"Peter! PETER!" A crash and a bang as a short, round woman with pale blonde hair ascended the steps of her cottage. It was a fairly-sized cottage by normal standards, with too many rooms and not enough windows. It seemed large, sometimes, especially during the holidays, since there was just Peter and his mother to occupy it. Peter's father had abandoned the family some time ago, but they had done well ever since. Better than they thought they would.

"PETER!" His mother shouted again. Furtively, Peter dashed out of his room towards the stairwell, smashing into almost everything as he went. Peter was clumsy, and both walked and ran heavily, due most likely to his size and statue. He was plump for his age, not fat, with small watery eyes and mousy brown hair. Peter often stated that he was unhappy with his appearance. His mother often replied that she thought he looked adorable.

Finally, he slammed up against the railing, panting hard. "What is it, mum?"

"There's a letter for you!"

"A what?"

"A letter!"

"A WHAT?"

"A - oh, for goodness's sake-" He saw her yank something out of her pocket - her wand, he guessed - and point it at the flat, white object she was holding in her opposite hand. Abruptly, it zoomed upward with the speed of a bullet and smacked Peter hard in the nose.

"Ouch!" he hollered, stumbling backwards and landing hard on his backside. The white thing (an envelope) however, fluttered gracefully to the floor beside him.

Swearing under his breath, he picked it up. Addressed to him. Curious. He almost never got letters. He turned it over. A strange seal was stamped there, a large "H" surrounded by four animals: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake. Peter frowned at it, and racked his brains. Nothing there. But he swore he had seen that seal before...!

Eventually, he gave up. With a loud snap, he broke the seal and tugged out the letter.

Dear Mr. Pettigrew...

With every word, his eyes grew wider and wider, until finally, he couldn't contain himself any longer. He let out a scream of mirth and sprinted downstairs to celebrate with his mother.

The final letter was to be delivered out west, to a tiny little cottage on the outskirts of one of the largest forests in Great Britain. Unlike the Pettigrew's cottage, this cottage was practically a shack. There were only six rooms, and a small basement dug out below the house. From the outside, it looked about ready to fall apart. Made of wood and bits of metal, it gave the impression of a very tired and very exhausted man that was ready to give up. Just like the man who was living there. Lyall Lupin.

Lyall sat outside the door on the dewed grass, not bothered by the wetness of it. As long as there was no one around him. No one at all. He just wanted to be alone.

He tugged his pipe out of his jacket pocket, and, instinctively, reached for his wand in order to light it. Then stopped himself. No. He and his family were using Muggle things now. Muggle devices. Uneasily, he brought himself to bring out a pack of matches instead. He struck one against his boot and lit his pipe, watching the flame flicker before his eyes.

"Fascinating," Lyall heard himself say, as he gazed at the fire, watching it dance. Almost like it was taunting him.

Monster, monster, monster, monster-

With one breath, he extinguished the flame. But he knew it was right. He was a monster. Along with his son.

Forcefully, he brought the pipe to his mouth, inhaling the thick fumes of tobacco. His life was ruined. His son's life was ruined. Only because he had tried to do the right thing. He exhaled; smoke furled from him lips into the colourless sky. He watched it dissipate, angry with himself. He had tried everything, but there was no cure. No spell, no potion that could rid his son of that... disease. It had contaminated him. It would drag him down, stay with him. Forever.

Lyall puffed on his pipe again. He felt cursed. His only son could never be fully healthy. He could never go to school, he could never make any friends, real ones, anyway. And with every year, his son's condition worsened. Now, at age eleven, he couldn't even leave the house. No one could see him. Then they might suspect, and Lyall, his wife, and his child would have to pack their things and move away, for the fifth time in three months.

He hates you, Lyall told himself, watching the smoke vanish again, blending in with the clouds hanging over him. He doesn't know, a voice in his head told him nastily. Lyall shook his head, trying to clear his mind of these thoughts. He couldn't argue with himself, not now, not with everything going on-

At that moment, he noticed something white hovering near the edge of the forest. He squinted. A figure. A person. How long had they been standing there? Was it a Muggle? Or, worse, a wizard, who knew of his son, Remus's condition? Had he come to drive them away?

Remus! Lyall thought. Hastily, he pushed himself to his feet and sped into the house, shutting the door firmly behind him. With a wave of his wand, a series of complicated locks locked themselves.

"Lyall?" His wife, Hope. At his side in seconds. He would've thought she would be in tears by now what with everything that had happened, but her face was surprisingly set. "What is it?"

"Dad?" His son called from the other room. "What's going on?"

Lyall grabbed his wife's arm. "Get Remus to the basement."

"What's happening?" Hope was bewildered.

"Someone - outside - watching us - get Remus to the basement," Lyall panted, all in one breath. He was suddenly exhausted.

Hope protested. "Lyall, it was only yesterday... he's very weak-"

"Get him to the basement NOW!" Lyall roared. White-faced and worried, Hope obeyed. Lyall watched his wife rush away. He knew she would've argued more, but they didn't have the time; he often didn't always have enough explanations. She was a Muggle, after all, and sometimes didn't understand all the things that went on in the Wizarding World... but he loved her with all his heart...

Through the window, he could see the figure advancing. With the glass dirty and cracked as it was, Lyall could make out only so much. Pale clothes. White hair and beard. Brandishing a wand.

A wizard! From the Ministry, perhaps. Coming to take his son away from him. Lyall's grip tightened on his wand. He couldn't. He wouldn't let him.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Pounding at the door. Lyall stayed where he was, pointing his wand one-handed at the center of the door. "Leave!" he shouted with as much bravery as he could muster; his voice cracked.

"Just go, and you won't be harmed. I say this for your own-"

Crack. Startled, Lyall almost dropped his wand. Then listened. Silence. Furtively, he hurried towards the window to glimpse the wizard standing outside his door.

No one. Nobody there.

Remus's voice drifted in from what Lyall guessed was the sitting room. "Would you like a crumpet, sir?"

Reading aloud again. Damn the boy! Won't he listen to his father for once and just do as he's told? Didn't he realize that he endangered everyone around him, every second, every minute, every day-

A different voice, unfamiliar to Lyall. "Why yes, Remus, thank you."

Lyall's heart pounded so heart, bruises must've been forming on his chest. Someone else in the house! How? There was no back door. All of the windows were locked and barred; he had heard no sound of breaking glass anyway. Not to mention that the whole cottage was surrounded by powerful protective enchantments! Lyall advanced cautiously, carefully peering into the sitting room. Horrified, he saw a tall, white-haired stranger in a pale traveling cloak sitting on the floor with his back to Lyall. Nearby sat a plate of half-eaten crumpets, the ones Hope had just finished making that morning. And facing the stranger was Lyall's son, Remus, lying on his stomach and staring at the space a couple inches in from of him. Anxiously, Lyall shifted a few feet... in order to see what he was looking at...

Gobstones. Lyall's mouth fell open. A stranger and Lyall's son were on the floor of the sitting room, eating crumpets and playing Gobstones.

Lyall let out a squeak of surprise; Remus's head was up in a flash. "Dad!" he exclaimed, both in relief and surprise.

The stranger turned round. Lyall's heart leapt up into his throat...

"Dumbledore?" he thundered, nearly falling over from surprise and suspense. The stranger just smiled, his eyes twinkling cheerfully behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Lyall!" he said, taking a step towards him with his hand outstretched. "Long time, no see..." He paused. "I believe that is the Muggle phrase; am I right?" He looked questioningly over at Hope, who was sitting straight-backed in a rickety armchair, grinning painfully. Lyall could read the bewiderment written all over her face.

Lyall stared down at Dumbledore's hand, but didn't shake it. "Er," he said.

"And this time, the phrase shall be taken literally," Dumbledore said airly, taking Lyall's hand and shaking it gently. "It has been a long time, in which I have not seen you."

Lyall did not reply.

Dumbledore frowned vaguely at him. "Are you aware that the Hogwarts start-of-term is drawing nearer?"

Lyall gave a start. What was he doing, Dumbledore, here? And where were Lyall's manners? "I am," Lyall murmured, wringing his hands nervously behind his back. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you," Dumbledore replied, taking back his seat on the floor. Lyall stared down at him.

"Er - will you be wanting a chair?"

"Very soon, perhaps, but not now, thank you," Dumbledore twittered brightly, almost like a bird. Then his expression turned stony. "And you are aware that you have requested that young Remus here not be enrolled in Hogwarts this year?"

Remus leapt to his feet, looking utterly betrayed. "Dad!" he almost yelled. "Dad, is that true?"

Lyall felt his cheeks flush red with shame. He found himself unable to speak properly. "I-it..." He hesitated, wearily running a hand through his own hair. "It was... for your own good. To preserve - the safety of the other... other students..."

Remus's face fell, but Lyall could see that he understood. And even if the other students and staff didn't discover his secret at the beginning of the term, they would more than likely guess it by the end. It was like fate. They would be constantly on the move, constantly on the run. Remus would never get a proper magical education. In the armchair across the room, Lyall saw Hope's face whiten. She had realized it too. For a while, she had refused to give up, always telling Remus that it would be alright, that a time would come where he could go to school, make some real friends. But now… everything was revealed to her. He watched as her gaze sank towards the hands in her lap. With a start, he realized that he hadn't told her that he had forbidden Remus to attend Hogwarts. He wished he had. Lyall and his wife were drifting further and further apart. And Remus stood in the midst of it.

"Now, now," Dumbledore chided softly, clearly aware of the tension between Lyall and his family. Despite this, his eyes still sparkled like two stars behind his half-moon spectacles. "Things aren't as dark as they seem." He turned towards Lyall, his face completely unreadable. "Remus will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Lyall's gut wrenched. He felt his breakfast threaten to make a reappearance. "Wha- no… n- he can't…" His words faded as his gaze fell upon Remus, who was sitting there on the floor, staring wide-eyed at his father, clutching a Gobstone in one hand and a crumpet in the other.

He might've been good-looking once, perhaps even handsome. Hope always said that he was the spitting image of his father. Wavy gold hair, huge gray eyes that seemed to absorb everything they saw. But ever since the accident, his features seemed more… sunken. His hair looked like it had gone through a blender, and his eyes were now lifeless, but moved constantly, up and down, side to side, over his shoulder again and again. Always anxious, always nervous. Always fiddling with the hem of his baggy T-shirt that hung too loosely on his tiny frame. Remus had been small ever since he was born, but his condition made his body seem smaller than it actually was. And the scars. Cuts, bruises, and scratches covered Remus's body. Hundreds of them. Cursed wounds. They would never fully heal.

Lyall actually had to turn away from his son. It saddened him.

But Dumbledore, to Lyall's astonishment, just chuckled. "I assure you, we have taken all the necessary precautions."

Lyall noticed his wife perk up in her armchair. "Really? What would-"

He was quick to shoot her down. "No!" he yelled; Hope shrank back; Dumbledore's frown deepened.

"Lyall, please refrain from shouting at your wife," he requested, giving Lyall a dark glance. "I am doing this for Remus."

Everything was happening so fast. Lyall collapsed clumsily onto a stool, hiding his face in his hands. Hot and wet tears were streaming down his face. He couldn't tell if he was sobbing with fear or joy.

"Dad?" Remus took a few hesitant steps towards his father. Lyall opened his eyes, revealing his son's white heart-shaped face, framed by shredded golden hair. His eyes were pale, almost transparent, but somehow, still full of feeling. Remus was worried. Worried about his father.

Lyall felt Dumbledore's warm hand on his shoulder. "Do it for the boy, Lyall," he whispered softly, so that only the two of them could hear. Lyall's heart was beating so fast. Had Dumbledore found a place? A place where his son could live in peace…?

He nearly choked. "W-what about the other students?" Lyall muttered, his chin pressed into his cloak. "The teaching staff?"

"All the precautions have been made," Dumbledore repeated calmly, patting his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "And the staff shall be informed."

Remus was looking from Dumbledore to his father in bewilderment. Hope, however, understood almost immediately. She let out a cry of relief and covered his mouth with her hands, not bothering to hide her grateful tears.

"What's going on?" Remus cried, still aware of the whole situation. Dumbledore just smiled, and tugged something out of his traveling cloak and handed it to Remus. He took it, examining it thoroughly. A slightly worn, yellowed envelope. Addressed in green ink.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Dumbledore proclaimed cheerfully. Then turned once again towards Lyall. "I believe a 'thank you,' would be in order…"

"Thank you," Lyall whispered shakily, slowly getting to his feet.

"Don't mention it," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Do you have any more of those crumpets, Hope? They're absolutely marvellous…"