Gryffindor Tower
The morning sun was slowly creeping out from behind the mountainous horizon, trickling cool light into the dormitory. Remus Lupin lay on his back, his hands knotted over his stomach as he watched the canopy above. It was only moments past dawn, and he had been watching that same stitch of frayed red draping for the past hour. To his left, James Potter breathed muffled snores into his pillow, twitching slightly as his messy hair tickled his face. Peter Pettigrew slept opposite, continuously kicking his blankets off and yanking them back up again in a dreamy state of distress. But it was the quiet whimpering coming from Remus' left that captivated his ears above all else. Sirius Black sounded as though it was causing him physical pain to sleep as he was, and with each deep breath, he released a helpless whine.
Remus lay and wondered what horrors were hypnotizing Sirius' mind. He thought of fire and knives and all manner of agonizing curses, but nothing seemed to justify the almost verbal cries the boy gave.
Finally, Remus could endure the twitching, shifting and whining no more. He swiftly threw the covers away and pulled himself upright. Taking a moment to rub a tender hand over the scar on his neck, he jumped lightly out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.
As he padded barefoot across the room, he took care to dodge the messy upheaval of his roommates' trunks. Their scattered clothing had managed to carpet the floor within the night. Remus pulled his mouth to one side in disapproval, breathing heavily to prevent the annoyed expression reaching his eyes. As he walked, his leg continued to pain him. It had been almost a month since the wound was struck, but the limp it produced was still noticeable.
Once in the bathroom, Remus quietly shut the door behind him. He changed into his school robes as rapidly as his multitude of injuries would allow, before stepping over to the mirror. The scar that ran from his neck to his shoulder was as red and inflamed as it had been the night of its infliction. You should see the nurse, Lily had said, she'd be able to heal that up right away. Remus traced his fingers over the ridge, wincing slightly. He sighed and pulled his collar tighter. It had been six years, nothing would heal it up.
Crossing back through the dormitory, Remus glanced at the rising sun. It had just reached five thirty, and the light was beginning to warm as it rose in the sky. It was casting eerie shadows about the room, urging him to leave. Soundlessly, Remus made his way to the door, descending the spiral stairs into the deserted common room below.
Bathed in warming sunlight, the cosy circular room was completely still. Save for the muffled snores of the resident portraits, nothing made a sound. Remus breathed in the peaceful quiet, running his hand across the rough stone walls. The scent of ancient furniture and dying fire hung thick in the air. He loved this time of the morning, when everything was pressing with silence. He adored the utter tranquillity of empty corridors and the soft light of the rising sun.
With a small smile on his little face, Remus crossed the room in eager strides. He reached the portrait hole swiftly, pushing it open and stepping out into the deserted corridor.
/
The sun sat high above the rocky mountains, pouring harsh light onto James' face. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed, moving his hand to his face and squinting hard. It was well past eight, and in realising this, James snapped upright with wide eyes. He glanced to the clock by his bed to confirm: eight forty-six.
"Blast!" James cried, hurling his sheets away. They'd missed breakfast. "Black!" he called, scrambling out of bed. "Black, Peter! Get up!" He was hunched over, wading through the mess of clothes strewn across the wooden floor. In finding his robes, he raced to the bathroom to change.
Sirius snuggled comfortably into his bed, the remnants of a dark nightmare all but forgotten. Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The startling shades of red and gold that greeted his bleary sight snapped him awake. A moment of disorientation sent cool chills down his spine. Hogwarts, he reminded himself, Gryffindor tower. He blinked and rubbed his hands to his eyes. They felt hot and heavy. Had he been crying?
"Get up, Black!" James shouted, running from the bathroom with his school robes in shambles. "We're late!" He skidded to his four-poster, diving into his trunk at its foot.
Sirius turned frantically to the clock beside him: eight forty-nine.
"Damn!" he cried, throwing himself from the bed and gathering whatever resembled robes from the floor.
"Hurry!" James demanded, as Sirius practically flew to the bathroom door. He continued to rummage through his trunk, throwing all manner of items onto the already chaotic pile he'd created. "Damn it," he muttered, "where is it?"
Sirius heaved the door open, his uniform just as dishevelled as James'. "What're you doing? Come on, let's go!" he called, racing to the door.
"Wand!" James shouted back, his head buried deep in his trunk.
"On the canopy," Sirius instructed, pointing to the top of James' four-poster. The pair looked to the place with cocked heads and confused expressions.
"How'd it get up there?" James wondered, frowning to recall when he'd thrown it up there.
"Never mind that!" Sirius cried, "Just grab it and let's go!"
James nodded and jumped to retrieve his wand. "What about Pete?" he asked, following Sirius to the door.
Sirius grumbled, grabbing the clock from his bedside table, giving the winder a twist, and hurling it at the sleeping boy. Peter didn't so much as flinch. "There," Sirius said, "happy?"
James shrugged, racing ahead of Sirius and out the door. "When'd you set it for?" he called, taking the spiral stairs three at a time.
"Some time soon," Sirius replied, before adding an uncertain, "I hope."
They reached the portrait hole without faltering, heaving it open and racing through at a gallop.
