Some things happened after that, but it was all kind of a blur to Remus. Dumbledore gave a speech. Food magically appeared on the tables—and, although it was undeniably delicious, Remus already missed his mother's cooking. He and Peter talked a little, but they couldn't think of much that they hadn't talked about on the train ride. And Puttle was very kind, but he was clearly only being nice to Remus as a formality.

Remus knew that he should feel overjoyed about going to Hogwarts. He was excited; he really was. He should be savoring every minute… but the truth was, he was completely and totally overwhelmed. And he couldn't stand all the looks that the teachers were giving him. It was quite tiring to avoid eye contact with them.

He couldn't have been happier when the feast ended and it was time to retire to the dorms. Puttle began to lead the Gryffindor students away, and Remus followed gladly. But, before he could get too far, Remus smelled lemons and whirled around.

Sure enough, Professor Dumbledore was standing directly behind him. "Remus. If I might have a word in my office," Dumbledore said.

"In trouble already? On your first day?" asked Puttle. "And you're on first-name terms with the headmaster already?"

"Remus didn't do it!" said Peter. "He was with me the whole time!" Remus felt a surge of gratitude towards Peter—although he was quite certain that he knew what this was all about. He didn't think that he was in trouble.

Well, he hoped that he wasn't in trouble, but he supposed that anything was possible. He started running through all of his actions over the past twenty-four hours in his head. Had he done anything wrong?

"He's not in trouble," said Dumbledore, effectively soothing Remus' anxious thoughts. "I'll bring him back to the dorm when I'm done. This way, if you please."

Remus followed Dumbledore down the corridor, feeling very small. Couldn't he even go to his dormitory normally? Why did he have to stand out so much? It had been stupid of him, he thought, to even entertain the notion that he was a normal eleven-year-old Hogwarts student.

"A penny for your thoughts?" asked Dumbledore quietly, and Remus flinched.

"It's nothing, sir; I'm only tired."

"I see. Congratulations on Gryffindor, by the way."

"Thanks, but..."

"But?"

"I don't think the Hat is very accurate."

Dumbledore laughed, leaving Remus feeling rather stupid. "It's as accurate as they come, my boy. What did it say to you?"

"It only put me in Gryffindor because of a comment that I made."

"Which was?"

Remus suddenly felt ashamed. "I... might have threatened to burn it with a candle, sir."

"Burn it... with a... candle?"

"And then feed it to the Giant Squid."

Dumbledore seemed as if he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Well. Perfectly understandable. What did it say to that?"

"It said that it didn't think I was capable of hurting a fly," Remus said, and then—before he could stop himself— "Ironic, isn't it?"

Remus wasn't looking at Dumbledore, but he could hear the smile in Dumbledore's voice as he said, "I don't think so at all, Remus."

Remus kicked a nonexistent rock. "It was stupid, Professor. I should be in Hufflepuff," he said, although he still thought that the notion of a werewolf in Hufflepuff was ridiculous. That said, a werewolf in Hogwarts was just as ridiculous, so Remus supposed that he couldn't really talk.

"The Hat has its reasoning. It simply has a lot of students to Sort and will not explain itself to every single one."

Remus suddenly felt selfish.

"I will tell you, however, that the Hat does not sort you according to what you are. It sorts you according to what you could be and, more importantly, what you want to be. I imagine bravery is a value of yours, after all you go through."

"I don't care! I wanted an identity apart from… that."

"Yes, and that identity is something you must figure out for yourself. Gryffindor, I believe, will help you to do that. Lemon lolly."

Remus thought perhaps that Dumbledore was offering him a sweet, so he shook his head—but it turned out that lemon lolly was a sort of password. Two rather ugly gargoyles moved away to permit Remus and Dumbledore into a mahogany door. "Follow me, if you please, Mr. Lupin."

Remus did, and was met with a woman upon walking in. She was very obviously the matron, judging by the smell of various potions that Remus, unfortunately, knew all too well.

"Remus, this is Madam Pomfrey." Dumbledore said gently, and Madam Pomfrey gave a tight nod. Remus wondered if she was afraid of him.

"I talked to your mother last week, Mr Lupin," said Madam Pomfrey. "She told me that your injuries on Monday morning will be quite extensive."

Remus nodded, ashamed, and sat down in a chair. He wrapped his arms around his chest, but it didn't help the nausea rising up inside his stomach. He didn't like to talk about these things, but he knew that he'd have to—after all, there was no stopping the full moon. It was one of the only constants in Remus' life right now.

"I think that now is a good time to go over our plans for the rest of your stay here," said Dumbledore, "if that is all right with you, Remus. If you're feeling overwhelmed, then we can easily hold off until tomorrow afternoon."

Well, that would be impractical, seeing as they were all there in one place. "Now is fine," said Remus. "My dad is worrying himself to death. He'll want a letter regarding the arrangements as soon as possible before he melts into a puddle, which would be quite unfortunate to clean."

Madam Pomfrey's jaw twitched, and Remus wondered if he had said something impolite.

"The arrangements are as follows," said Dumbledore, unfazed as ever. "I have planted a tree on the Hogwarts grounds. It's known as a..."

"Whomping Willow," Remus finished, feeling ill. "That's for me?"

"Yes. It will, as you probably know... whomp anyone who comes too close."

"That's… sir, that's… not enough…!"

"I know, Mr. Lupin, if you would let me finish. The tree is planted on top of a secret passage that leads to an abandoned building on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The building is charmed extensively, I assure you. Nothing would be able to escape—not even a dragon. Come morning, Madam Pomfrey will come collect you and take you back to Hogwarts. I assure you, it's completely foolproof."

"How would I…?"

"The Whomping Willow can be frozen for about twenty seconds by pressing a particular knot near the base of the tree. Madam Pomfrey will show you."

"What will I…?"

"Tell your friends? Well, what were you thinking?"

Remus didn't have any friends yet (except maybe Peter? And maybe James?), but he had been thinking about that quite a lot. "Perhaps I could tell them that... someone in my family is ill... and I have to go home to visit them?"

"Good. How about your mother? You're close enough to her to make it believable, and she is not, as you know, a part of the wizarding world. People will be a lot less likely to recognize her name and see her in public."

Remus nodded. He didn't like telling lies about his mum, but he saw why it was necessary.

"What time should you be ready to go on Sunday?"

"Five-thirty or six," said Remus. "And I should be able to stick with that time every month; I typically don't… transform until… around eight, regardless of the season." Remus was still terribly nauseous.

"I think that's a little early, if the moon doesn't rise until eight," said Dumbledore. "Are you certain?"

"Yes, that's fine." Dumbledore was quiet, and Remus put his hand in his pocket to pet Bufo, who seemed to be falling asleep. "I don't like to rush, and I expect I'll want to look around. Plus, the hours leading up are a little unexpected."

"What does that mean?" asked Madam Pomfrey. Remus had almost forgotten that she was there.

"I don't know, Madam. It's unexpected." The truth was, Remus didn't really want to think about it, much less tell someone else. He immediately felt guilty. Lying to everyone was messing with his head, and Madam Pomfrey was doing so much for him. She had the right to know, if not every detail. "I get shaky. And... apprehensive. I can't focus. It's nothing too bad, but I like to be alone, and I don't want to walk anywhere like that. Plus, it really is different every time. Sometimes it's... worse."

Remus was referring to the episodes that sometimes happened in the hour leading up to the full moon. They only lasted a few seconds, and they didn't happen every month, but they felt horrible. He wasn't sure what they were, exactly. They were painful, terrifying, and altogether unpleasant. Madam Pomfrey looked as if she wanted to ask more questions, and Remus prayed that she wouldn't.

"Will you give me the run-down of your post-moon injuries so that I know what I'll be dealing with? Your mother outlined it for me, but, well... mothers have been known to exaggerate and I'd like to hear it from you."

Remus had been afraid of this. "It's different every time, ma'am," he said slowly. "But it's pretty bad, I think."

"You think?" repeated Madam Pomfrey.

Remus shrugged. "It's uncomfortable, but never life-threatening. I… wouldn't kill myself… on a full moon…. You know, instincts." He stopped talking, unable to go on. He didn't want to think about this.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Your mother was quite a bit more dramatic. I imagine you aren't being dramatic enough, though, from what she's told me. I know how young boys are. I'll prepare for something in the middle."

Remus' mother had spoken with Madam Pomfrey in Diagon Alley a few weeks before Remus went to school, and she'd babbled about how kind and understanding she was for what had seemed like hours. Remus still wasn't sure how to feel about Madam Pomfrey. He didn't like the idea of someone besides his father healing him after a full moon—he didn't really want anyone to see him like that. But Remus was thankful, at least, that she had likened him to other young boys. She didn't seem scared of Remus, just strict and somewhat quiet. She really did seem nice, if one squinted, though perhaps not as kindly as his mother had described.

"Anything else we should know?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"I don't think so…. Thank you. So much."

Dumbledore smiled, but his eyes did not twinkle this time. "It is the least that we could do. Now, why don't I walk you to your dormitory? I imagine your roommates have settled in already."

Remus nodded, but before they could start walking, Bufo woke up from inside Remus' pocket.

CROAK.

"Bufo!" scolded Remus. "Mind your manners!"

"Is there... something in your pocket?" asked Madam Pomfrey. Remus dearly hoped that she wasn't afraid of amphibious creatures.

"Yeah. My toad, Bufo. He's been sleeping." Remus pulled Bufo out of his pocket to introduce him to Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey blanched. Remus supposed that she was afraid of amphibious creatures after all.

"What a... lovely creature." Madam Pomfrey sounded weak in the knees.

"He's pretty ugly, actually," Remus corrected. "S'all right, you can say it—It won't hurt his feelings. I reckon he's proud of it. Say hi, Bufo."

Croak.

Dumbledore looked amused. "What a well-behaved toad," he said. "I don't often see them so complacent."

"I think he's just lazy," said Remus, "but thank you anyway."

The three of them began to walk down the corridors, Madam Pomfrey staying somewhat far away from Remus. Remus didn't know whether she was keeping her distance from him or from Bufo. He hoped it was Bufo.

They finally arrived at Gryffindor Tower, and Dumbledore bid Remus farewell. "I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast," he said. "Be sure to arrive on time."

"And I hope I won't have to see you until Sunday," offered Madam Pomfrey, "but you never know, what with Flying Class and all that. I've been begging Dumbledore to strike flying from the curriculum for ages—but alas, no avail." She gave Dumbledore a stern look, and Remus tried not to laugh.

"Thank you both," he said. He opened the door to his dormitory and stepped inside, doing an awkward sort of wave as he closed the door behind him and listened to the adults' footsteps fade away. He felt three pairs of eyes behind him and could pick out three distinct scents—Peter and James being two of them. He turned around.

"Peter! James!" he cried. Peter and James were indeed there, Peter perched on the leftmost bed and James on the wall near the door.

"Hullo, Remus! Still as pulchritudinous as ever, I see!" said James.

"Remus!" Peter said, grinning like a madman. "I can't believe you're here, too! Let me introduce you! This is James, but I think you already know him... how do you know him?"

"We met at Madam Malkin's," said Remus, "after Madam Malkin almost called me cute."

"Hm," said the other voice, whom Remus recognized to be the boisterous boy who had high-fived James after being sorted. "You aren't that cute. Got a bit of a rugged look to you. And you look tired."

"And who might you be?" asked Remus, pretended to be insulted. "I'll have you know that I am very cute."

Black laughed. "I like this one, James! Much more of a personality than Pettigrew, here."

Peter's face fell. "That's only because you don't know me very well yet," he said defensively. "I have plenty of personality."

"Of course you do," said Remus, a bit horrified at Black's thoughtless remark. "He does! I sat with him on the train."

"Well, if you say so," said the boy. "I'm Sirius Black - that's spelled S-I-R-I-U-S. Is your name really Remus?"

"Yes. I'm not Pureblood, if that's what you're wondering. I just have an odd name."

"Mudblood, then?"

There was a pause.

"Er… Sirius, you can't say that," said James cautiously.

"Say what?"

"The term is Muggle-born. That... word that you used is a bit of a slur."

"Oh. Really?"

Remus, Peter, and James nodded vehemently.

"Sorry, then. My family uses it all the time, but using a slur like it's common language does sound like something they'd do." Sirius grinned. He really didn't seem all that apologetic. "Muggle-born, then?"

"Half-blood. My mum's a Muggle." Remus was determined not to judge Sirius based on blood alone. The same thing was done to him often enough, and he knew how it felt. "You haven't got anything against Muggle-born wizards, though, have you?"

"No, of course not!" said Sirius. "It's just how I was raised."

"Then we've nothing against you," James said brightly. "Sorry, Remus, but we've already claimed our beds. There's one left, by the window. I don't know what happened to that bed," James gestured to a completely decimated bed, "but it clearly can't be slept in."

Remus looked at the bed near the window and felt his breath grow short. The bed was fine. A little smaller than the others, and the curtains were frayed. Remus could see why it had been the last choice. But Remus hadn't slept near a window since he was four years old. After what happened last time...

"Are you sure I can't switch with one of you?" he begged.

"Sorry, mate. First come first serve. Right, Pettigrew?" said Sirius.

"Right!" said Peter happily, and Remus knew that there was no chance of switching with anyone now.

Remus managed to change clothes in the small lavatory attached to the dormitory with minimal teasing from his roommates. Apparently, Peter had done the same thing—but Remus rather suspected that it was for a different reason.

Curfew came and went, and Remus tried to ignore James' and Sirius' whispering. This proved difficult when Sirius did a spot-on Dumbledore impression, and Remus couldn't hide his laughter.

"Remus! Come join us, we're not going to bed anytime soon!"

"No, I'd better sleep. Don't want to be falling asleep in class; I think McGonagall would kill me."

"Good point," said James seriously. "She does look like the type of woman to cast a mean Bat-Bogey Hex. I'm going to sleep too, Sirius, if you don't mind. I am rather tired after all that."

"Right, then. Night, James and Remus. Night, Pettigrew... oh, he's fallen asleep, hasn't he?" Peter had indeed fallen asleep; he was now snoring at a volume Remus hadn't thought possible.

"Night," Remus whispered back.

He drew his curtains shut tightly, rolled over on his side, curled up under the sheets, yawned massively, and tried to fall asleep.

It didn't work.

After a while, he heard James' and Sirius' even breaths and knew that they had fallen asleep… but he couldn't. The window right next to his bed occupied his every thought. Even when he closed his eyes, he could still feel it there—and every time he thought of it, he thought of the glass breaking, a werewolf with fangs and fur and claws, pain in his left shoulder—pain everywhere...

Remus tried to think of Dumbledore and his twinkly eyes. He tried to think of Bufo, who was sleeping next to his bed. He tried to think of his mum and dad. Nothing worked.

Two hours later, Remus was thoroughly frustrated. He threw back his curtains and stared at the wall, seriously considering throwing something.

"Hey, Remus. Still awake?" asked James.

"Did I wake you?" Remus asked quietly.

"No worries, I'm a really light sleeper. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing, it's just been a... long day."

"Tell me about it. I'm going back to bed. Sleep well."

Remus nodded and returned to the futile battle with sleep.

He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, but he woke up sweating. No, that wasn't sweat, those were tears. Or maybe it was sweat. Remus didn't know, but he felt altogether awful. He put his hand on the window, as if to make sure that it was still in one piece. It was. So it had been a nightmare, thank goodness.

James was awake again. "What the heck, Remus. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Nightmare. James, may I..." Remus considered asking to switch beds again, but decided against it.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing."

"Go to sleep, mate."

And Remus did, but his dreams were full of fear, his heart was full of homesickness, and overall, the sleep turned out to be a very uncomfortable one.

Stupid moon.

AN: I've written a contemplative little one-shot about the Sorting Hat if anyone's interested. There's no plot, really, but I needed to flesh out my thoughts on the process of Sorting just a little bit. If you really want to know my thoughts on the subject (though I'm sure they're dreadfully boring), then you can hop on over to my profile and find "A Chat with the Hat".