Chapter 2 – When Seen by Starlight
Disclaimer: I own the plot, the whole plot, and nothing but the plot.
I started writing this story before the Order of the Phoenix came out, and I suppose that it's technically an AU now. I wrote these characters (James, Peter, Sirius, Remus, Severus and Lily) how I thought they would be, and that doesn't quite match the way Harry saw them in Snape's memory. From the beginning I had planned to write them as being cruel to Severus, but I never imagined them being as horrible as J.K made them out to be. So I will continue the way I started, because to me it seems that the characters I am writing would have grown up to be the ones in the book. I hope you can recognise them too.
Anyway…Onward! Please leave a review to let me know what you think. D
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At last the train came to a lurching halt, and Remus followed the three boys out of the carriage and onto a platform, unlit but for the faint glow of the stars. Suddenly the world seemed strange, hostile and unfamiliar; all the sights and sounds were distorted and offensive. Remus had no idea of where he was or what he was doing there, and although he knew his name, he couldn't remember who he was. Then someone in the crowd bumped roughly against him, and with a start he was brought back to reality, only to realise that he couldn't see his travelling companions. Feeling bewildered and disorientated, the werewolf looked up to find an older boy watching him. He was tall and very handsome, in a cold, untouchable way. His hair was an impossibly pale silver-blond, his eyes pale blue, and his skin alabaster. Standing there in the starlight he looked like a statue, his features perfectly sculpted and as hard as marble. He was poised with his arms crossed over his chest and his beautiful mouth twisted into an ugly sneer, cruel eyes sharp and cold as shards of ice. Remus felt like his heart had turned to lead and dropped into the pit of his stomach. He wanted to hide, but he was so cold he couldn't move. He felt physically sick and dizzy. The platform was being consumed by colourless mist, but it wasn't really mist, it was nothingness. All that remained was Remus and the pale, gleaming figure, and the mist was closing in on Remus, it had covered his eyes and was stealing into his lungs, he was going to faint, and a voice in his head was saying Don't fight it, don't fight, you are dark, you are d –
A warm hand seized him by the arm and the mist fell away like water. Sirius' face appeared in front of Remus, and the statue came to life at once, whirling around to be lost in the crowd.
"Come on, or we'll get separated from the other first years!" Sirius urged, pulling his new companion away. Remus followed him willingly and blindly; his consciousness had retreated to the familiar darkness behind his eyes, where it curled up on itself like a wounded animal.
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The sight of a thousand burning torches reflected in bottomless black water brought Remus to life. He was in a boat with the three boys he had encountered on the train, and before him loomed his future. It was a great castle, magnificent and utterly terrifying. For a moment it seemed to Remus as if it was not a building, but an ancient, powerful creature… something stirred deep within him, he almost identified it –
"Remus! Are you alright?" the words shattered any chance Remus might have had of interpreting what he felt, and the moment was lost.
"I'm fine, thank you," he replied, blinking at James in confusion.
"Okay," said James, his eyes narrowed, "you just looked as if you were about to throw up." Remus shook his head mutely, still looking dazedly at the castle.
'Well, if you do have to hurl, do it over the side of the boat,' said James with a grin, and returned to the conversation concerning the hairy giant of a man who had led them to the boats. But for the remainder of their trip across the lake, James carefully and guardedly observed Remus. There was something about the other boy that was hauntingly familiar, especially when seen by starlight, but the memory lurked stubbornly at the back of his mind and refused to reveal itself.
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Finally the magical boats reached the shore, and the first years clambered out, craning their necks to look up at the castle. Following the great, booming voice of the enormous man who had met them at the platform, they soon found themselves climbing the grand stone steps that lead to a huge double-door. Their guide, who had by now identified himself as Hagrid, thumped one great fist three times against the studded wood before suddenly blowing out the lantern he had been carrying and plunging them into darkness. Then a crack of light appeared, and the doors swung inwards with a friendly creak. The children poured forward into a spacious entrance hall flooded with soft yellow light and the doors closed behind them. Hagrid had disappeared.
For about a minute the first-years were thrown into nervous, chattering chaos, until a neat, authoritive voice caught their attention.
"I am Professor McGonogall," said the owner of the voice, a stiff-looking young woman dressed in long scarlet robes and a black pointy hat, "Head of Gryffindor House. I teach Transfiguration here at Hogwarts. In a moment I will return to lead you through to the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your different houses. They are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Gryffindor, and it is an honour to be selected for any of them. Please make yourselves presentable." With that she turned and left through another huge door, which opened only enough to allow her passage.
There was a buzz of chatter and a flurry of movement as the score or so of children nervously adjusted their robes and flattened their hair, all the while anxiously speculating on what was to come. No one seemed to actually know how students were sorted at Hogwarts, although there were some intimidating stories being passed around. It seemed like an age before Professor McGonogall finally returned.
"Form a line and follow me," she said, "and quietly! The Sorting Ceremony will begin."
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There was a swish as every head in the Great Hall turned simultaneously to face the arrival of the new students. With his sensitive nose, Remus could smell the anxiety of his peers as they stared in awe at their surroundings.
The teachers sat at a long table at the farthest end of the hall, while the students sat at four larger tables, one for each house. The vast room was lit by countless candles that hung burning in the air and never melted down, and when Remus lifted his eyes further, he saw only open sky where a ceiling should have been. The night sky was cloudless, and the stars glittered coldly in the void. There was no moon to spoil Remus' calm as they followed McGonogall up to the front of the hall, where they stood in a line before the teachers' table, facing away from their professors. McGonogall disappeared to the side for a moment, then returned followed by a small, sour looking man bearing a stool. He put it down between the line of first-years and the house tables before stalking off. The Head of Gryffindor house placed a ragged, floppy, once-black wizard's hat on the stool, then fetched a large scroll from where it lay before Albus Dumbledore on the teachers' desk. The first-years just stared at the hat in stupefied confusion. What was such an unremarkable, scruffy object doing at the Sorting Ceremony in the Great Hall of the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry? Their amazement only increased when a rip near the brim of the hat opened like a mouth, and it began to sing.