Chapter Four

Remus was so grateful to be sitting among the Gryffindors that he almost missed the rest of the sorting entirely. The red-headed girl, who confidently sat down on the stool but held tightly to the rim of the seat was sorted into Gryffindor and sat down opposite Remus, giving "Black, Sirius" a cold look. She smiled sadly at the black-haired boy, who stared at her agape. When Professor McGonagal called Peter's name, he yelped audibly. The small boy's legs shook visibly and he clenched his hands in front of his little chest as if in a desperate prayer. In rapid, unreadable movement, he whispered to the hat and the fabric face scrunched in seeming thought. Silence hung in the hall for just a moment before the hat finally called out, "Gryffindor!"

Peter's eyes opened with pure shock and joy while the room cheered. Wobbling hurriedly toward the table, Peter sat down beside Remus who clapped him on the back excitedly. It would be nice to know someone in his house. He and Peter were not the last Gryffindors of the evening either. A "Potter, James" was sorted quickly, almost as soon as the hat touched his head, into the house of the brave as well. He smiled proudly and, Remus thought, and little smugly as he strode over to join the group.

Near the end of the night, the boy with longer black hair was finally called- a "Snape, Severus" and was immediately sorted into Slytherin. He didn't look surprised, but gave a sad, longing glance toward "Evans, Lily" before slinking over to join the cheering Slytherins. The same blonde prefect who had clearly been annoyed by Remus and Peter on the train greeted him, patting his shoulder.

After quieting the room, Dumbledore got up and greeted the students. He had kind, blue eyes that shone with a secret kind of knowledge, as if he could read the excited thoughts of every student in the room. "Welcome to Hogwarts," he said, in a soft, gentle voice that carried throughout the room. "We look forward to a wonderful year of learning, growth, and renewal. I have been asked to remind you to keep at least a fifteen foot radiance from the Whomping Willow at all times. As you will remember, and first years as you will learn, the Forbidden Forest is named as such for a reason- no student may enter there without teacher supervision. Now, I think it is time we eat," he smiled and raised a hand toward the sea of students. "Let the feast begin."

With that, the silver dishware that was already set on the tables magically filled with all manner of splendid food. Some of the serving plates were piled so high that Remus could not see the students across from him until large servings of potatoes, ham, chicken wings and the like were dished out on plates. Peter had to get up on his knees on the bench in order to reach everything, creating a mound of food for himself that was almost as big as he was.

The bespectacled boy with black hair that stuck in all directions, James, and the handsome boy called Sirius sandwiched Lily, who looked altogether put out by her current placement on the Gryffindor bench. She kept straining her head toward the Slytherin table, her eyebrows tilted concernedly down. As she began to eat and talk with her new house-mates, though, she began to brighten.

In an attempt to save her from the boys on either side of her, who were talking loudly and throwing rolls over the top of her head, Remus leaned forward and smiled widely.

"Are you happy to be in Gryffindor?" he asked kindly, flicking his eyes briefly toward the Slthyerins.

"Of course she is!" Sirius chimed, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

"House of the brave! The proud!" James yelled, sending up a chorus of cheers all down the table.

Crossing her arms, Lily leaned forward, ignoring the routines to focus on Remus, "I'm pretty happy about it. I have a friend in Slytherin. I think he might be sort of upset. Is it a big deal? Will I ever see him? Will we still be friends?"

Sirius pulled her shoulder back, taking a big bite from a chicken wing, "You can't be friends with a Slytherin. They're pure evil!"

"And why would you wanna hang out with stinky Snivellus anyway?" James asked, a bit of potato hanging on his lip. "We're much cooler."

Rolling her eyes Lily got up and walked around the end of the table to sit beside Remus, taking her plate with her. Peter wordlessly moved out of her way. "Is that true? Are we supposed to hate the Slytherins?"

"I don't think we should hate anyone," Remus assured her. "We'll have loads of classes together. I've read all about how it works. And in your free time, you can hang out on the grounds. It is true that Slytherins and Gryffindors don't normally get alone… but that doesn't mean that some of us can't be friends."

"They're not really evil, are they?" she asked and her bright eyes looked as if they might be beginning to fill with tears.

"Not all of them. Sometimes there's been a witch or wizard that goes bad- and they usually come from Slytherin, it's true. But they're more known for their cunning and intuition," Remus explained, already certain that Lily must be muggle-born.

"How do you know so much?" Lily asked, a genuine smile on her face now.

"I like to read," Remus shrugged.

Lily turned happily to her food, "Me too and I'm so excited to learn all about magic. I'm glad you're in my house. I bet you're as smart as our professors. What was your name?"

"Remus Lupin," he smiled. "And you're Lily, right?"

"That's right, Professor Lupin," she teased.

After the feast, the newly dubbed Gryffindors followed their fifth year head boy and girl toward the common room. Just as Remus had read, entry to the room required a password, given to a living painting called "The Fat Lady." The room was warm and deeply textured, aglow with firelight and smelled of cinnamon. Second years and beyond filed familiarly toward their rooms or sprawled out in the fat armchairs that were spaced generously throughout the room.

Remus could not stay long to admire the main room, as the group of first years were quickly guided up to their rooms. They're curly-haired Head Boy had a large, toothy smile and what sounded like a falsely energetic voice. From what Remus could tell, this front was for the benefit of the raven-haired Head Girl with bright, emerald eyes.

Inside the tower dormitory, Remus saw that his things were already displayed neatly by his four-poster bed. The bespectacled boy leapt onto his bed, hands folded underneath his head. "So you're smart, right?" he asked, shooting his eyes lazily toward Remus.

"I like to read," Remus answered, opening his trunk and rifling around until his hand closed on his moon cycle journal. Heaving a sigh of relief, he left it buried beneath his clothes, and sat on the edge of his bed, facing James. "I'm excited for the classes."

"Excellent," chimed in the other boy, who was standing on his bed and inspecting the top of his curtains. "I recond James and I will need at least one person with wits in our crew."

"Hey," James protested. "Speak for yourself, Black. I happen to be very gifted and bright."

"Having glasses doesn't make you intelligent," Sirius teased, chucking a pillow off his bed and landing it square in Jame's face. He turned his attention to Remus, who smiled through this exchange. "So why do you think the hat put you in Gryffindor?"

"Obviously, he's got to be super courageous," Peter broke in, who was halfway through pulling himself up onto the bed. "Just because you're smart doesn't mean you're not brave too, right?"

"So if your bravery outweighs your smarts, you're probably pretty brave then, huh?" James asked, getting up to smack Sirius over the head with the pillow.

Remus thought about the many times he had woken up alone in the forest behind his house. More often than not, blood soaked his body, and he was always cold. It was always better when he could find slashes on his body that told him the blood was his. His father would sometimes be the one to recover him. Together, they would walk back to the house in silence. When it was his mother, Remus would cry, holding tight to her midsection as she hugged him.

"Maybe it made a mistake," he said finally, turning back toward his trunk to busy his eyes and hands. "I'm not brave at all."

Author's Note: I so appreciate the incredibly detailed, thoughtful reviews. Your input definitely directs my storytelling. I apologize for any inconsistencies or spelling/grammar errors. I do my best to stay true to cannon and present clean, coherent chapter for you all, but in the end I am just writing for fun :) Thank you for reading!