***CDD: Pls enjoy the sorting song I had to write
***dialogue completely in italics (except for the Sorting song) is from Prisoner of Azkaban
From the playlist:
BVW 1059R - Bach, Lucie Horsch
MS 130 No.3, II. Petite Romance - Paganini, Apollo Ensemble
BVW 1059R - Bach, Lucie Horsch
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Ch. 14 - The Sorting
Standing at the threshold, he marveled at the candlelit sky in astonishment like he'd never seen the enchanted ceiling a thousand times before.
Home.
He dodged the swooping outline of the Bloody Baron as he began his trek to the staff table, hoping the students wouldn't stare long enough to notice his gait wasn't all that stable on the flagstone by this point in the day. He was pleased that he was able to recall the names of each face he passed - though he had yet to see the first years. He couldn't particularly say he was looking forward to it.
When he'd nearly reached the helm, someone addressed him from behind.
"Well, well, well."
Remus came to an unsteady halt, bracing himself as he turned to greet the distinctly adenoidal voice. He couldn't say he'd been looking forward to this either, but he made a concerted effort to be pleasant.
"Severus."
Yikes. Remus was too polite to let himself notice for much more than a fraction of a second that Snape hadn't exactly improved with age, either. He'd always appeared pretty…erm… troubled on the outside, but Remus didn't know why he'd expected him to perhaps grow out of it by now - or at least opt for clothing that didn't make him look like Nosferatu's greasier cousin.
"Remus Lupin, returned to Hogwarts," Snape droned with icy antipathy as he took in the sight of him. "I'm sure the Whomping Willow would be pleased to see you again, at least."
Off to a great start.
There was no point attempting to shake his hand, but Remus remained cordial. He felt he owed Snape more compassion than he probably deserved. "I believe thanks are in order for the…special little arrangement Dumbledore made between us."
"If it were up to me, your breed wouldn't be allowed anywhere near a school," Snape drawled.
Remus just smiled.
"Well then I shall be grateful it isn't up to you, and thank you anyway. Enjoy your dinner," he responded affably, turning his back and ignoring the ghost of Prongs's voice in his ear; which strongly encouraged him to hex the prat right between the eyes then go piss in his goblet. Snape was simmering behind him no doubt, perhaps having hoped to provoke him more, but he was a fool if he thought he could possibly compete with the voice in Remus's own head for his harshest critic. If a bit of vitriolic commentary was the price Remus had to pay to be here, so be it.
Many other familiar faces greeted him as he made his way along the staff table, since nearly all of them had been his professors, too. Not everybody seemed to recognize him: both Professors Sprout and Vector fixed him with an uncertain eye as he passed, probably trying to think of his name or recall whether he was ever one of their students at all. He nodded politely, and did not begrudge them for the lapse in their memory. He didn't wear the years very well, he knew it.
One individual did recognize him though, and raised a massive hand to greet him as he passed.
"Remus! Er-…Well, I should be callin' you Professor now, shouldn't I?"
"So lovely to see you again, Hagrid." His hand got lost in the enormity of the handshake, but he genuinely beamed. People often looked down on Hagrid (figuratively speaking) because he was a bit imposing and sort of rough around the edges, but Remus always thought very highly of him.
"Dumbledore tol' me this summer. I tol' him he couldn'ta picked anyone better," Hagrid's voice boomed.
With a cocked eyebrow, Remus peered over his shoulder at Snape, who was staring at him like he was trying to will his aorta to rupture.
"...Well, we'll see."
"I mean it! I reckon you might be the best Defense teacher yet. No doubt you'll be better fer the students than that numpty we had las' year."
"Thank you very much, Hagrid. That means a lot."
Then, Hagrid leaned in and spoke low. "That jinx on the job - it's all codswallop, I say. You ought to be the one to prove it."
At the opposite end of the Hall, Flitwick began ushering in the first years, sending Remus's gurgling stomach into chaos.
"Anyway, I'll let you get to yer seat n' all. I look forward to workin' with you." Hagrid winked.
"Likewise. Cheers."
Remus did take his seat, but wasn't afforded much time to appreciate the fact that he was at the staff table, or wonder what his younger self might say if he could see him now and whatnot; because despite all his efforts to turn a blind eye, he literally looked at the one face in the line he'd been determined not to notice.
Everything about her looked different to him now.
Flitwick placed the stool bearing the Sorting Hat before the Hall, and it broke out in its new song for the year:
"Though I may be wise and old,
I'm not adorned with silks or gold.
With patches sewn and seams ajar,
I lack the beauty of a star."
Upon first glance, Remus had thought she looked like Emmeline.
" But beauty's not in lace or twine,
It's in the wisdom time enshrines.
So let it be known in every chat,
You'll never meet a more clever Hat."
She did still really look like Emmeline, with her little round face and the configuration of her mouth.
"Through the tumult of your mind,
I seek to decide where you will shine.
I see your fears, your hopes, your dreams,
And guide you to your destiny."
But now, there was this odd mirror about her, too.
"To Gryffindor's grotto, where courage is king.
And brave-hearted warriors proudly sing.
With lion's roar and fiery might,
A symbol of courage, in the darkest night.
Or Hufflepuff's haven, where hearts are true,
Loyalty reigns through and through.
The bonds they forge burn ever-bright.
A sanctuary in the depths of night."
In addition to sharing the same hair and eye color, she seemed to have his hair texture and eye shape.
"And Ravenclaw's realm, where wit resides,
To unravel myst'ries with scholarly strides.
They've minds as boundless as eagle's flight
A beacon of knowledge in the darkest night.
In Slytherin's sphere, an ambitious repute,
For those cunning spirits, fierce and astute.
With allegiances few, and unerring insight
A legacy of power, in the depths of night."
And that was almost certainly his father's nose.
"So heed my words, as I search your soul,
To place you where you'll find your role.
Let the Sorting Hat decree,
Your house awaits you, come and see!"
He applauded with everyone else while his stomach tried to untangle the knots it had twisted itself into.
"Step forward when your name is called," Flitwick instructed, adjusting his glasses to stare down at the long roll of parchment in his hands. "Bexley, Ethan."
Remus would've liked to tear his eyes away, but now, for some reason, he couldn't.
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Brooks, Sheila."
He had no textbooks to pour over, no notes to distract him.
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Cadwallader, Miles."
And now that he could see her - and her eyes, and her hair, and her nose - pretending she wasn't who she was…was proving more difficult than expected.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Coote, Ritchie."
She doesn't know, and she won't know, so there's no sense in having a nervous breakdown.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"DeLeón, Olivia."
She looked…quite nervous, actually.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Duncan, Jena," Flitwick continued.
He'd been nervous at his Sorting, too; paralyzed with fear, more like. Particularly after the chilling bit about the Hat being able to see whatever was in your head. Each agonizing minute that had passed until his name was called was a minute spent trapped in a nightmare scenario crafted by his too-vivid imagination: one where he got up on the stool, the hat announced to the entire school that he was a werewolf, and subsequently, everyone threw food at him.
Seeing his features on that little face looking probably about as scared as he had was far more nostalgia than he'd signed up for.
"Hurst, Lucy."
Inadvertently, Remus sat up in his seat a tad.
Though she still looked uneasy, she approached anyway and wiggled herself onto the stool. When the hat was placed upon her head, Remus waited. And waited.
He noticed her jump ever so slightly. He'd done the same thing when the hat began muttering in his ear - it was unnerving.
But more unnerving than that was the brief moment that Lucy twisted back to look at him.
His eyebrows bunched together. Was it because she was seeking a familiar face? Or-…
Oh hell.
To some extent, the hat could sense family history, he knew that much.
But could it know a student's true parentage, even if they didn't?
And if so, would it tell them?
Remus felt himself starting to sweat again as the moments ticked by.
What the hell are you saying to her you manky old tam-?
"GRYFFINDOR!"
From his angle, he saw her face illuminate with that toothless grin, and she skipped merrily to join the cheering Gryffindor table without another look back. Remus deflated like a balloon on the verge of bursting.
When the Sorting ceremony concluded, it didn't occur to him that Harry, Hermionie, and McGonagall hadn't been present for it until he spotted them reentering the Hall. He'd written that request to McGonagall not expecting her to act so swiftly - which was absurd, in hindsight. He did feel badly that he'd made Harry and Hermione late. The moment they took their seats was the precise moment Dumbledore stood to address the school.
"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast. As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."
Remus had heard him speak enough times to catch that, as Dumbledore continued to explain the presence of the dementors, he did not sound pleased about the arrangement. He'd suspected that might be the case, but the way Albus's inflection lost all of its lilting whimsy was all the confirmation Remus needed.
"On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
The patches seemed to sear through the rest of his clothes as he hobbled up to be acknowledged by sparse applause, his knees creaking uncomfortably as they straightened out.
"As to our second appointment. Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs."
Good on him. He'd already lost a half of one to a drake by the time Remus was a student.
"However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."
Remus turned to Hagrid with a wide grin and the sincerest applause. There was no one more deserving.
"Well, I think that's everything of importance. Let the feast begin!
What happened next was one big blur, right up until the moment Remus reached the bottom of his empty plate. All he knew was that the entirety of his focus had to be devoted to keeping his table manners intact so that he wouldn't shove everything in his mouth at once, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd ended a meal feeling so uncomfortably full. He vaguely recalled acknowledging a few professors who'd spoken to him, but couldn't remember anything they'd said, or anything he'd said in response now. Harkening back to Scarlett O'Hara, he decided: he'd never eat toast again.
Dumbledore couldn't've have picked a more perfect moment to announce it was time for bed.
Before Remus had a chance to rise, he saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione approaching the staff table, veering to go speak with Hagrid. He considered joining the conversation, but felt held back by those pesky words he should have told Harry the second he saw him on the Express.
Hi, Harry. I'm Remus. Your father was my best friend.
He couldn't spit out the words, but he couldn't swallow them without choking, either.
And anyway, McGonagall shooed the trio away after a minute. Remus just stared gloomily after them.
Until:
"Minerva."
He glanced up at McGonagall, who'd come up alongside him. "...Pardon?"
"You addressed your note to Professor McGonagall. You may call me Minerva," she notified him, the slightest hint of a decorous smirk perceptible in one corner of her mouth.
Somewhere, Prongs was green with envy.