Chapter Three
Remus tugged his heavy trunk along effortlessly as he entered the platform with his father, a frown turning down the edges of his features. Lyall was exceedingly intent on Remus keeping his head down and avoiding drawing attention - that's why he was carrying his trunk now, instead of floating it. His mother, apparently, couldn't have taken him as he would have preferred. She had work.
Remus hadn't known his mother had started working, and was more than a little disgruntled by the information. Why was she working? Where was their money going? Why hadn't they told him? Why was she working at a magical bookshop - couldn't muggle money suffice?
"Remus, stop that," Lyall murmured under his breath as his son began to walk ahead of him. "That trunk is heavy," he muttered, speeding up to match his son's pace.
Remus hesitated, nodding as his dad sent him an agitated look, and slowed to a more sluggish pace reluctantly. He looked at the kids around him and noticed the majority of them struggling along and felt a stirring of anxiety. He had to remind himself to fumble over things more often.
Lyall clapped a hand to his son's shoulder as the two stopped outside of the massive scarlet train. It blew steam from the top, whistling noisily as the largest group of kids began stumbling inside, shoving for room as they did and shouting good-byes to their parents.
The Lupins blended seamlessly into a more patient crowd, waiting for the rowdiest kids to get on before relinquishing their children.
"I have to-" the man started, his words seeming to catch on a strong emotion in his throat as he stared at his son, "go now. I have to go. Be - good, okay Remus?"
Remus looked up at his father - who looked as if he hadn't slept in quite a long time - and nodded. Lyall offered him a quivering smile in response, a dry laugh escaping him as he leaned down and drew his son into an unexpected hug. "Owl your mother and I tomorrow, we both want to know what House you're in," he said as he drew away, a smile still brightening his sleep-darkened features.
"Of course," Remus promised, bobbing his head in acknowledgement and glancing back toward the train as some of the final kids began to board. He didn't want to be the last one in - there would be no empty seats, and he would have to ask to sit next to someone, which would involve talking to someone.
The very thought made his stomach churn with anxiety, and his eyes widened slightly as the realization of what he was doing hit him like a sack of bricks. "Dad," he mumbled in a quivering voice, turning back to face his father, breath short with anxiety.
"You'll do great," Lyall assured him in a soothing voice, clasping his son on the shoulder firmly. Remus started forward, dragging his father into a hug with unusual force for someone of his size before relinquishing him just as quickly. The young wizard darted off toward the train without another word, tugging his trunk along behind himself effortlessly once more.
Lyall laughed, the motion shaking his tense form slightly as he let out anxiety, exhaustion, worry and amusement in the gesture.
Remus didn't bother glancing back.
"Oof," a small voice muttered, drawing Remus's attention as he started down the hallway, looking left and right and peering in the windows, searching to no seeming avail for an empty compartment.
The sandy-haired boy looked behind himself in puzzlement. He'd been sure he was the last one to board the train. However, obviously enough, that was untrue. There was an awkward-looking, chubby boy who had just tripped over his trunk who seemed to have scrambled on some time after Remus.
"Do you need help?" Remus offered quietly, pausing in his compartment-hunt as the boy nearly tripped over his extra bag as he pulled himself to his feet again.
The chubby boy looked up in a sharp, jittery way, eyes wide with anxiety as he bobbed his head in a nod. "Oh - I - y-yes, please," the boy asked, offering one of his heavier bags to Remus. The werewolf accepted the proffered package and the awkward other boy was now able to maneuver back on to his feet, looking very relieved.
He extended a hand, accepting the bag back from Remus with a look of thanks. "My name's Peter," he said kind of breathlessly as he swung the bag back over his shoulder.
"Hi," Remus replied, blinking at him. He had no idea how the boy had managed to push his trunk along all this way - as he had clearly been doing, seeing as how the trunk was situated in front of him instead of behind him - considering they were meant to be pulled. It was a most impressive feat indeed. "You should try pulling that," he offered quietly, turning back around and making his way down the line, still glancing in windows briefly and hoping for empty compartments.
Remus ignored the sounds of the boy grunting and stumbling over his trunk, clearly having taken his advice, and his gaze finally alighted upon a seemingly empty chamber. Sighing in relief, the sandy-haired boy threw open the door and headed inside, shutting the door unthinkingly behind him.
He waved his wrist once he was out of view, propelling the trunk magically into the air and setting it on to one of the luggage racks. Suspiciously, there was already another trunk sat just across from it, and another beside-
"How did you do that?" a wonder-filled voice gasped suddenly. Remus spun around, eyes widening considerably at the familiar - yet entirely bizarre - sight of James Potter's head.
The bizarre bit being that all he saw was James's head.
The bespectacled boy seemed to have misplaced his body and was now a floating head, chatting amiably in the middle of Remus's compartment - where moments ago, his head had clearly not been.
"Could you teach me to do it? I mean, you didn't even use a wand, did you? Come sit," he said. The sound of the patting of cushions - accompanied by no actual patting of cushions - only furthered Remus's confusion. Not sure how to respond to the situation, the werewolf hesitantly sidled into a seat next to James's head.
"Ouch! That's my foot," the boy's head cried suddenly. Remus then distinctly felt him yank his shoe out from where Remus had settled his foot, and it was then that understanding dawned upon him.
James was somehow invisible.
Well, for the most part.
"It's good to see you again Johnny," Potter said amiably, undoubtedly holding out an invisible hand as he grinned.
"Charlie," Remus acknowledged him with a nod, hesitantly reaching into the air and feeling around for his invisible hand, shaking it with a slight grin.
James barked a laugh and just then the compartment was thrown open, revealing a nervous-looking Peter.
"Hi, can I sit with you?" he asked in a near-whisper, directing the question at Remus and then anxiously to the floating head of James.
James looked around.
"Mm, nope, no room," he said sadly.
There was another bench on the other side that was clearly empty, which Peter then hesitantly looked toward, appearing very sad.
"My invisible friends are sitting there, and then I'm saving one spot for another bloke," James obviously lied. Remus felt a swell of guilt as he watched the awkward-looking boy nod slowly, looking as if he may burst into tears, and he jumped to his feet.
"I can stand. Take my seat, Peter," Remus offered, gesturing to where he had been sitting. Peter sent him a look that spoke magnitudes of thanks as he began struggling to lift his bags above his head, putting them one by one up on the luggage rack. As he made to lift his trunk Remus stepped forward, shaking his head. "Let me help," he offered, pulling it from the boy's hands as he foresaw him dropping it on to James's invisible foot.
Receiving a look of thanks as Peter slid on to the edge of the bench, Remus lifted the trunk effortlessly over his head and shoved it on to the rack, the compartment door swinging open behind him.
"Woah, you're really good at this Remus - oh, serious!"
Remus frowned as he spun around, not comprehending James's sentence but not bothering to try to make sense of the odd boy's words.
Standing in the doorway of the compartment was a very clearly puzzled, black-haired wizard.
His expression was almost completely blank as he observed the scene with striking grey eyes - they were devoid of any blue coloration, from what Remus's exceedingly acute vision could detect. There was a strain of worry on his features as his gaze landed on Peter, and then settled on Remus.
The two locked gazes for a moment, grey eyes boring into hazel. Remus wondered if he should blink, hesitating before deciding it would be silly not to. He blinked several times for good measure.
The black-haired boy blinked back, and Remus continued to scan his features. His hair was crow-black, with no brown undertone. He had high cheekbones and a pale complexion that reminded Remus of James - for a moment he paused, wondering if the two might be related in some way, but quickly dismissed the notion.
The boy's aura was entirely different that James. Remus was not often consciously aware of it, but he could feel the magical waves that he used to bend things, like when he floated the trunks. The aura that followed the newcomer was nothing like Peter's or even James's.
It did bear a disturbing resemblance to Remus's own, however. He could feel the magic's temper, which Remus himself had learned to account to his lycanthropy. Never until then had he encountered it in another wizard. The magic felt volatile, alive.
Shivering slightly, Remus felt a stirring of curiosity.
The boy moved to sit on the empty bench, and Remus spoke up without thinking.
"You can't sit there, James has invisible friends."
"No, no, that's Sirius's seat. I told you I was saving one for a bloke, too. Besides, I was lying, I haven't gotten any invisible friends. You can sit too Johnny. Sirius - this is Remus. I met him at Gambol and Jape's. Since we're friends, I get to call him Johnny. Johnny - this is Sirius, the bloke I was saving that seat for," James explained as he shrugged off a sort of cloak, which had clearly been the source of his partial invisibility.
"Woah, where did you get that?" Peter breathed, admiring the sparkling cloak with wide eyes as James folded it up in his lap.
James looked at him with a pleased sort of smile. "I got it from my father who got it from his father," he explained proudly. "It's an heirloom."
"What's an air - um, hair, heir-?"
Remus watched the boy - who was apparently named Sirius - observe the entire interaction in relative silence. Eventually, Remus slid into the seat next to him. He received an unreadable look in response.
"Remus Lupin," the sandy-haired boy introduced himself quietly, fidgeting with his sleeve as he silently wished he'd gotten out a book before putting his trunk away.
"Sirius Black," the wizard responded.
Remus nodded.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Applause broke noisily throughout the Hall and Remus jumped from the stool, hands shaking imperceptibly as relief swept over him. His breaths came out short and quick as he strode across the length of the Hall, making his way toward the gold and red clad table.
Unthinkingly, the young wizard moved away from the widely smiling faces and inviting gestures, walking toward the far end of the table where the black-haired wizard from the train sat alone. At least four seats of space separated him from the rest of the Gryffindors.
Sirius Black. The Black Heir. Whispers were echoing across the hall from the green and silver table still, which Remus found impossible to miss.
"Blood-traitor."
"Don't speak that, Orion would have your head."
"Here comes Bella, shut up."
He looked up slightly as Remus settled into a seat a very short distance away from him.
Remus blinked at him, starting to offer a weak smile only to have Sirius avert his gaze and stare down into his lap.
Frowning, Remus fidgeted slightly, glancing back down to his plate as more and more students were sorted into the various Houses.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat roared the instant it touched the tips of James Potter's black locks. A playful smirking sort of grin spread across his features, the bespectacled boy hopped from the stool without preamble, dashing over to the cheering table and settling in among the most welcoming of the students.
Remus felt a small pang of loneliness but looked up, glancing at Sirius, and shrugged his shoulders. He hesitantly touched the edge of one of the spoons by his platter as more students were sorted, blocking out the buzzing sounds around him.
"These aren't real silver," Sirius spoke up almost unthinkingly, drawing Remus from his reverie. He tensed and glared as the sandy-haired blond pinned him with an inquisitive look. Remus felt a moment of panic, which he quickly buried upon realizing the other Gryffindor didn't mean anything by his comment.
Remus frowned slightly, nodded and looked back down at the silverware. He watched Sirius relax out of the corner of his vision.
The boy didn't seem shy, but from what Remus had gathered from the whispers, he was wealthy and pure-blooded. Which meant he probably knew that Remus wasn't.
At least he wasn't rude.
The chubby boy from the train - Pettigrew - was also sorted into Gryffindor, much to Remus's shock. He felt a pang of guilt for judging the boy so quickly, which quickly dissipated as he watched him slide into a seat beside James among the noisiest throng of students.
It was difficult to feel bad for someone he so poorly understood. The needy, clingy vibe Peter gave off was unsettling, and diminished any sort of empathy he might have felt for the boy beforehand. Remus silently scolded himself for feeling that way, knowing that he should be less judgmental.
Headmaster Dumbledore gave a small, nonsensical speech before dinner was laid out. Remus's eyes widened considerably.
Fillet, mashed potatoes, marinated chicken, rigatoni, garlic bread, lasagna, rolls, green beans, pudding, chocolate cake, pitchers of hot chocolate with sweet-smelling heat rolling off of them in every direction. The sandy blond felt his stomach turn hungrily as he swept his gaze along the table.
He glanced over to Sirius - noting the slightly different, more unusual array of food that was set up toward his end of the table - as he began filling his plate.
The two didn't speak at all throughout the meal, Remus considering it occasionally but always noting the way Sirius tensed up when he did.
"Did you want to be in Gryffindor?" Remus found himself asking without thinking, seeing some similarity in Sirius to a character in a book he'd read years ago. The boy had been brought up in the human realm, unexpectedly brought into the magical world as a dragon tamer when he was twelve. His family had never forgiven him, because they had despised magic.
"No."
Remus blinked at the numb tone, tilting his head slightly and nodding as he turned away in his seat.
"I'm going to be transferred," the dark-haired wizard continued. Remus's eyebrows rose into his hairline at the unprompted speaking from the other, and he frowned as he processed the sentence.
"You can do that?" he asked, feeling a stirring of hope. Maybe he could be transferred to Ravenclaw. The hat had definitely misplaced him, he thought as he glanced over to the table of quiet, reading and relaxed looking students clad in blue and compared it to James, who was now being boisterously cheered on as he floated pastries into a tower at least five feet high atop Peter Pettigrew's head.
"I can do anything I want," Sirius snapped in response, looking almost affronted. At the question, or the fact that Remus had become distracted by someone else while talking to him, he wasn't sure.
Remus glanced up to the enchanted ceiling as some of the students began to file out of the Hall, observing the constellations above. An unbidden smile played at the corner of his lips.
"You're Sirius, right? Like the star?" he asked, pointing to the brightest star in the faux sky and drawing a surprised look from the other first year.
The black-haired wizard smiled slightly, nodding as he looked up. He seemed to belatedly realize what he had done and quickly looked back down to his plate.
"You'll find your surnames - along with those of your dorm-mates' - on the door. After entering the first time, the doorknobs will be enchanted to open only for you and the names will be removed. Any questions, you can find me or a teacher. Any dorm problems, you will speak to Professor McGonagall, as she is acting Head of Gryffindor House."
Remus watched the prefect offer the first years a forced smile before making his way toward his own dorms without another word, ignoring the raised hand of one of the smallest first years.
Remus strode over toward a seat by the fire to allow the largest group of the students to find their dorms and shove their way through the halls. He much preferred waiting to wander around stupidly in private.
With that in mind, he fell into a seat by the crackling fire, sighing as his feet twinged in relief at the reprieve from standing. The sandy-blond watched sparks fly off of the burning wood, hitting the dark stone floor and the red and gold rug - which had a roaring lion embroidered on it.
He idly glanced around the common room, noting that maybe the Gryffindors weren't all so bad as he observed a chess game in the far corner. On the other side of the room, two Quidditch players were animatedly describing the last game of the year before with wild hand gestures.
After a few moments had passed, he picked himself up from his seat and maneuvered off toward the stairway to the first year boys' dorm.
Remus scowled to himself as he wandered down the long hallway. Most of the names on the doors had disappeared now, meaning that almost everyone had found their dorms already.
Except for him. Somehow, he hadn't exactly foreseen how he would be ostracizing himself when he had taken a brief nap by the fire. Groaning in frustration, he leaned heavily on a painting of a knight at the end of the hallway.
"Remus Lupin," the painting said proudly, startling Remus into jumping off.
"What?" Remus asked sharply.
The knight sent him an annoyed expression. "I am a door," the painting explained. "I read: Remus Lupin."
"You're a painting," Remus corrected unthinkingly.
The knight flexed his stubbled jaw, pulling down his helm to cover his face. "I am forbidden to challenge first years to duels. Consider yourself saved, boy," the knight spat angrily, his fist clenched around the hilt of his holstered sword. "I am a door," he said again, in a tone of forced politeness.
Remus blinked, nodding acquiescently.
He had hoped to find more than his name left on the - door. The lack of other names meant that his other roommates had already gone inside. Three strangers were waiting. Did Hogwarts have a form of hazing? It wasn't fair that they knew who he was but he didn't know them. What if they didn't like him? What if they were loud and rude? Not all of Gryffindor was bad, but they did somewhat resemble the 'jock' group displayed in muggle television shows.
"Do you know who's already gone in here?" he asked the painting hesitantly.
The knight rolled his eyes from underneath his helmet. "It's really silly of you to ask a door a question. As if I could answer!" he answered.
Remus sighed. "Please open, Door."
The knight nodded excitedly and the painting swung aside, revealing the dorm room he had spent the last hour searching for.
"Remus! You're here!" James Potter cried, startling the werewolf into freezing, panic-stricken in the doorway. "I was just about to go looking for you," the bubbly, bespectacled wizard said cheerfully. He kicked off his shoes - expensive trainers - and threw himself back on to what was clearly his bed, fiddling with an anti-gravity yo-yo and sending it flying into the air from his fingertips.
"The painting thinks it's a door," Remus said unthinkingly after a pause of watching the enchanted toy and feeling a twinge of irritation at Peter's blatant awe. The chubby boy really did try too much to flatter.
"The artist painted a door, then painted a knight overtop it a few years later," Peter clearly recited something he had been told, taking a break from his fanfaring for James.
Remus nodded slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he ran out of things to say. He wandered off toward the left end of the room, where his trunk was pressed up against the bed.
He observed his surroundings silently as James continued some conversation he'd been having with Peter about Quidditch.
Right next to Remus's bed was a bed without a trunk or any other personal belongings next to it. James's and Peter's were on the right end of the room. "Whose bed is this?" he spoke up suddenly, accidentally cutting off a rambling story from James about how he could be a Seeker, Keeper, Beater and Chaser all at once.
"I don't know, it was empty when we came in," James said, spinning around on his bed to kick his feet over the edge and settle his chin in his palms thoughtfully. He wrinkled his nose to push his glasses back up the bridge, blinking.
Remus drew in a slow breath, tilting his head slightly. He felt a surge of magic, his mind shifted slightly, blotting out the language and noises of James and Peter as he observed the traces of scent in the room.
Faintly, just on the edge of the empty bed and trailing through the air and out the dorm, was the hint of scent of the wizard from the train and dinner. Dark-tinged, light and faint - though perhaps that just spoke of the age of the trail, as it had clearly been several hours now.
Sirius Black stormed into the dorm looking rather irritated, glancing left and then right. Remus blinked rapidly, switching his focus again.
"Sirius!" James cried, sitting upright. "Mate, where have you been?"
"We are not mates," Sirius snapped in response in a surprisingly aristocratic-sounding voice.
James shrugged. "Not yet, but we could be," he said optimistically, the cheeriness dropping from his tone.
"No," Sirius replied sharply. "I don't like you."
"Fine," James snapped in response, getting to his feet with an angry look on his face. "I don't like you either," he spat, a mischievous light burning in his eyes.
"Leave me," Black said, hands flexing and then clenching into fists as he stepped reluctantly toward his bed.
"But you know what they say - keep your friends close," James said cheerily, "and your enemies closer," he said as he stepped toward the taller boy despite the prior warnings. He gave Black a slight shove.
Sirius's grey eyes flashed and before Remus could really discern what happened, the two were having at it, punches being thrown in either direction and excited, keyed-up laughter bubbling from James, only to be cut short with a grunt of pain.
"You're a wanker!" James cried indignantly as the two fell to the ground, wrestling and kicking. Sirius pinned James after a moment of struggling and pulled back, clearly intent on decking him in the middle of the face.
Remus stepped forward unthinkingly, prying Sirius off of the other boy by his shoulders effortlessly and looking to James split lip with a flash of concern.
James looked gleeful as he scrambled upright, blood trailing down to his chin. He pulled back his fist and prepared to punch before Remus scrambled in between the two, holding Sirius back with one hand and giving James a very sharp, startled look. "James, stop!"
James paused momentarily, jaw falling slack slightly and his fist falling into his lap. "How did you do that?" he asked suddenly, tilting his head.
Sirius's breathing began to slow before he too frowned slightly, looking down at the single hand that had managed to restrain him. Remus drew back, flinching slightly under the inquisitive looks and shrugging.
"I, um, do push-ups?" he suggested.
Three sets of laughter responded in kind to Remus's shock, and he ran a hand slightly through his sandy-blond hair as he watched a smile spread across Sirius's features for the first time, crinkling the edges of his grey eyes as he got to his feet, unthinkingly helping James up off the floor.
James darted out a tongue to swipe off some of the blood stuck to his lip and motioned to Sirius's face. "You look a right-side better now," James offered.
Sirius gave a barking laugh in response, head tilting back slightly with the movement.
Review what your favorite color is.