The Rhapsody of Youth

Friday 13th July, 1973

    London had to be a city which never sleeps; that was the only reasonable explanation for what Remus was seeing. The sun was just about to rise above the roof of Westminster Palace, announced by pink and yellow smudges blurred across the sky. The old wristwatch fastened on the boy’s skinny hand told him it was soon to be 5 a.m. Despite the early hour, the bridge was just as awfully crowded as during the rest of the day. It was the middle of the summer, which meant that the city was now swarmed by wild hordes of tourists more than at any other time of the year. Especially here, in the part of the city Remus and other kids at school would call a show-off. The boy always perceived the bridge and surrounding areas as a sort of a play pretend, really. Every time he would visit, it felt like pulling up an act in front of the tourists, trying to convince them that all they see is true. That was the real London, full of charming little cafes and crowded designer clothes stores, where everything, yes, was expensive, but not so much that an average londoner could not afford it. Oh, and the souvenir shops. Because in every London house there had to be at least three plates with the Queen’s face on it. 

    Well, let’s just say, the tableware in Remus’s flat back in Tower of Hamlet’s had nothing to do with her majesty. 

      Halfway through the bridge, the boy realized the crowd around here was nothing compared to what he was going to dive into back on land. A longing for the rapidly disappearing oxygen stirred something in his chest. 

    “Hey, wait.” He grabbed Eloise’s arm, then pointed out a spot by the bridge barrier. A pair of Asians was taking a photo of themselves against the Parliament building just a second ago. Now they left, leaving some free space, perfect for a breather. 

   The two kids made their way up there, breaking the river of people’s flow. As soon as it was possible, Remus took a deep breath and rested his elbows on the barrier. 

   His cousin gave him a sceptical look. “You alright?”

   He nodded, leaning more forward and glancing at the river below. Its water was muddy, not reflecting the colorful sky even a little bit. 

   “Then why are we making stops?” She folded her arms.”What time is it?”

    “About just after five.”

   Eloise sighed, and leaned on the barrier too. She stared into the horizon for a second. Some sort of a tour boat was making its way under the bridge, churning the water surface. 

“You nervous?” 

   “No.” Remus said quickly, wishing to prevent himself from the “it’ll be alright” talk. 

   His cousin turned her head slightly to have a better look at him. Her eyes told him she did not believe it, but he didn’t even expect her to. Luckily, the girl dropped it. “Come on then, you have a train to catch, you git.”

    The boy didn’t really have the time to confront her about it, but that day Eloise was really pissing him off. She had made him breakfast, without complaining, and she hadn’t thrown a fit when he forgot his recommendation letter from Professor Wilburough and had to go all the way back to the flat to grab it. She was too nice and that sudden kindness was really annoying. It made him wonder whether he had to start acting differently too and the boy did not really have an idea how to do that. Remus wished she would just go back to calling him a wally or a twat, but not in the friendly, bickering way. In the usual way, like she did when he annoyed her. Honesty, even her stopping to talk completely would make him happy right now. It still would be better than the comforting act she was trying so hard to pull up. That’s what the girl did in school anyway. They barely talked when passing each other in the hallway. Eloise was older and probably ashamed of her swotty cousin in front of her friends. The only time they interacted for more than two minutes, which Remus remembered, was when he got into a fight in the school canteen with an idiot named Anthony Abernathy. Just when he was finishing the prick off, leaving a solid black-eye on the other boy’s chubby face, El’s hand dragged him away by the back of his collar. She led him to the restroom and pressed a tissue against his bleeding nose, then made sure he got to the school nurse’s cabinet without getting in any more trouble.  

   That was it when it came to school, really. After the day of the fight they were back to acting like strangers, and Remus did not mind at all. At the lunch break he was usually too busy reading to talk to anyone anyway. They also walked home separately. The boy sometimes wondered how come they never bumped into each other on the way, considering that school was only fifteen minutes away from their flat. After sometime he figured out she had to be taking some other way, one that he did not know of. That realization made him feel jealous. He liked secret passageways and shortcuts. Eloise having some of her own felt like an invasion of the boy’s privacy. 

   The two of them would meet no sooner than on the threshold of their flat. It was a tiny, stuffy hollow on the perimeter of East London, which they shared with Victor, Eloise’s father. It had an indoor bathroom, which was good, because some of the buildings on their street only had an outdoor one. A living room, connected to the kitchen, which was also the first room you entered when you walked into the flat. And two bedrooms, one belonging to the so-called man of the house, the other one theoretically shared by both of the kids. Theoretically, because even though Remus’s belongings were still stuffed into the bedroom’s drawer, the boy himself would spend the nights on the living room sofa. That arrangement was about two years old. El and Remus shared the room ever since the boy moved in, but as from little kids arguing about who’s toy is who’s they transformed into teenagers, the space turned out not to be enough for the two of them. His cousin never exactly asked or ordered him to leave. Even Eloise would not be that kind of rude. It was the boy. One evening while trying to listen to his music on the record player he saved up for, the girl was on a phone call with some of her girl friends, talking really, awfully loud. He decided enough’s enough, then stood up, took the player, a book, and his pillow. On his way out he shut the door behind himself. That evening he did not come back. It was the sofa ever since then. 

   As they entered the train station’s hall, Remus threw his hand in his pocket. It was empty. His heart skipped a beat. Had he left it at home? Or worse, lost it? He turned his head to have a look at the huge clock hanging off the ceiling. Fifteen minutes left until the train’s departure, ten if you consider the time the way from the hall to the right platform took. Bugger, he lost the bloody ticket, he will lose his chance to write the exam and he….

   A hand landed on his shoulder, patting it awkwardly. “Calm your tits, Lupin, I’ve got it.” Eloise waved the ticket in front of his face. 

   He exhaled with relief, which earned him a look of worry from the girl. That only made him more tense. “Be nice.”- he told himself, repeating the sentence in his mind like a mantra, “Be nice, be nice, be nice, be…” But she did not stop staring at him like that, and he just could not take it anymore. 

   “Will you stop?!” He snapped before he could prevent himself from doing it. The girl took her hand away. “I’m not some bloody child in need of special care!”

   Eloise frowned, then folded her arms. The apologetic expression disappeared. “What?”

   “You know what! For the whole day you’ve been acting like I’m going to faint any second, just waiting for the moment to catch me! Of course I’m stressed, but I am gonna bloody write the paper. Why are you making such a big deal out of all of this?” He exclaimed at one breath, almost running out of air halfway through the last sentence. Normally he would probably feel bad, screaming at El like that. But today? Honestly, he felt better than ever. 

   Eloise opened her eyes wider, clearly surprised with his sudden outburst. She stared at him for a minute, mouth slightly opened, forming a small, flattened letter “o”. To Remus’s confusion, when she spoke, the boy could swear there was an amused smile playing in the corner of her lips. 

   “Take the ticket and shut up, will you?” The girl handed him the small paper. Not having a better idea of what to do, Remus just took it, and scanned it with his eyes, searching for the place he was supposed to go now. 

   “Platform nine.” He informed. 

   Eloise nodded. “That’s a good number, innit? Not as good as seven, but will do…Shit!”

  “What?” The boy frowned. Had they forgotten something after all?

   The girl gave him a critical look. “You know, for someone who wants to prove they’re all grown up so bad, you’re doing terrible. Were you honestly planning on going there dressed like…” She waved a hand at his clothing. “Like that?”

   Remus looked down at himself. He was wearing rather smart clothes. That was, in his opinion. A simple, white shirt. Clean one, he made sure twice before putting it on. Some brown trousers. He would wear them at special occasions at school and no one ever complained. Maybe the trainers were a bit less official, but the boy did not really fancy any other of his second-hand shoes. They were the most comfortable ones, and he reckoned it counted when he was about to spend almost a whole day in them. 

   “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “They’re summer clothes, that’s what!”

  “But…” He gave Eloise a look, cocking one eyebrow. “...it is summer, El.”

  “They’re English summer clothes. It’s much colder in Scotland, you wally. Gotta figure something out…” She bit her lip, thinking. Her eyes scanned him from head to toes, then left his figure and focused on something behind him. A smile spread across her face. “Wait here and don’t you dare move.” The girl said, not even looking at him anymore, then stormed away. 

   He turned back, obviously, curious what she was up to, but there was no use in that. His cousin disappeared in the crowd within seconds, leaving the boy alone. The people around him didn’t even look like people, to be honest. Just a huge mass of colours, shapes and noises. He was not sure what to do now. Standing still felt stupid, but there was nothing else he could think of. 

   Suddenly, the sounds of music filled his ears. A guitar? He turned around, searching for the source of the noise. In front of some kiosk offering lighters with the face of every England’s monarch you could think of, there was a man standing. He had a guitar in his hand, a rock one. Remus walked over to the man. On top of the amp which the musician put on the floor, close enough to himself so people wouldn't step on it, there was a hat.  A newsboy cap, looking old and dirty. Remus reckoned that was what the eventual audience was supposed to throw coppers into. The hat was dishearteningly empty. 

   The boy had seen the street performers many times, of course, but he never thought that they would start their shows before six in the morning. He took a closer look at the man. Dressed in denim bell-bottoms and a green shirt, a bit too unbuttoned for a public place. After a careful but quick study of the stranger’s face Remus realized that there could not be much of an age difference between the two of them. His hair was long and messed up, the blonde curls dancing in the air as he shook his head to the rhythm. The guy looked sixteen, seventeen maybe. That explained the energy which made him able to get up in the morning, go to King’s Cross and sing at the top of his lungs. 

   “ She came in through the bathroom window, 

   Protected by a silver-spoon

  But now she sucks her thumb and wanders 

  By the banks of her own lagoon…” 

  He sang the opening lines to a Beatles’ song, looking like he was having the fun of his life. Remus noticed that the guy's eyes never landed on the hat, not even once while he sang. They were dancing around the hall, focusing on some people from time to time. Finally they landed at Remus. The boy felt strangely exposed when it happened, as there was no one else listening nearby. He threw his hands in his pockets.The singer grinned, still singing and winked at him. 

  Remus blinked, feeling some sort of an unpleasant heat washing over his face, but before he could think about what was happening to him, someone put a hand on his shoulder from behind, dragging him backwards. 

   “I told you not to move!” Eloise glared at him, arms folded. 

   Remus forgot about the singer in an instant. He scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. “Right, sor-”

   She interrupted him before he could apologise. “Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. Come on, we have like five minutes. Here.”

   The girl handed him some blue rag. Only it was not just some rag. He unfolded it. It was a flag of Britain. Wool-knit. But it had tassels…

   “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He was holding the most tacky scarf he had ever seen. She must've got it in some of the souvenir shops. 

   She grinned. “Take that as a thank you. So you won’t get cold, love .” 

   Remus rolled his eyes, knowing that there was not enough time for bickering now. That joke was definitely not funny, annoying if anything. Waste of money. He folded the scarf negligently and stuffed it into the bag he was carrying. “Let’s just go.”

   So they did. As they entered the platform, the guard's whistle welcomed them. Remus rushed towards the train and got on it, just seconds before the machine began to slowly move, leaving the station. The cousins did not get the chance to say a proper goodbye, but the boy could swear he heard Eloise hollering after him.

“You’re a smart kid, Lupin! Rub their posh noses in it!”

   Conductor closed the door behind him. Remus smirked to himself. Good ol’ El. 

   Luckily, he found an empty carriage. Its door creaked mysteriously when he shut them, cutting the world away. He did not have any suitcase or any kind of bigger luggage with him. The trip should take no more than a day. Hopefully, around nine p.m. he will be sitting in the same train once more, perhaps in the same carriage, only heading back home. The exam was supposed to take place at 9.30, and by his schedule he will arrive at the place about half an hour before. Then the whole day to convince some strangers he grew up to their standards. And back to London. Seemed like a decent plan. 

    The station was left far behind the train, which was now rushing through the still sleeping London at full speed. With every minute the buildings were getting less luxury. Soon the red-brick working class houses turned into factories with smoking chimneys, hidden behind metal gates. The sun would probably be rising high above the roofs if not the gray, rainy clouds, slowly replacing the previous pink and yellows of the morning sky. Remus was not sure whether to perceive the sudden weather change as a good sign or a bad one. After a minute of thinking he decided not to perceive it as anything. 

    He put the bag hanging off his shoulder on the shelf above his head. The window’s glass was cold, a nice contrast to the sweltering temperature of the carriage. The landscape behind it began to change even more. Factories transformed into farms, farms into fields, fields into meadows, and meadows into grassy hills. Less english and more scottish with every second. About an hour into the ride, huge water drops appeared on the glass, announcing the downpour. It came soon after that, the rain washing over green summer grasses, making it look even more full of youth and life than they did before. 

    Remus wondered if it was now raining at Queen Mary’s too. He hoped not. He hadn’t got neither a raincoat nor an umbrella with him, and certainly didn’t fancy getting to the school looking like a wet rat. What would they say? 

   Wondering about the school was giving him a headache. He had absolutely no idea what to expect. For sure, Queen Mary’s will be much different from his public school, where most of the teachers were not even sure what subject they were teaching. He didn’t hate it. There was no reason to. Of course, some kids could be really cruel if they tried hard enough, but Remus was not the one to let others toss him around. The fights happened rarely, but if they did, it was him who would get up from the ground first. Apart from the unpleasant stuff, he did rather well in classes. Not excellent, but decent. Bit of a math problem, but he managed somehow. There was only one subject in which everyone considered him a top dog. That was English. And that was the reason why he had to ride the train all the way to rainy Scotland in the first place. After reading his essay on „The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”, Professor Wilburough, his teacher, told Remus to stay after classes one day. The boy was a bit confused, as he was recently doing rather well and had no idea what trouble he got in this time. To his surprise, none. The teacher told him that he had been impressed with Remus’s work in class for a while now, and that essay had only confirmed his convictions considering the boy. On the desk they sat by there was a brochure. „Queen Mary’s Boarding School”, said the huge, fancy looking letters on the cover. The boy picked it up and read it, not sure what he was supposed to think about all of this. Turned out it was a rather good, small private school in Scotland, where the highest class poshes would send their children, not having the time to raise them. A few famous names on the graduates list. Under the headmastership of Albus Dumbledore, who out of his kind heart offered a scholarship there for a few poor kids if they will raise to the school standards. That is, if they write the exams well enough. 

    The whole thing felt weird. The boy knew it was a huge chance for him. He was not sure what or who he wanted to be in the future, but being a part of the school gave him various possibilities for that. Professor Wilburough helped Remus contact the school authorities, introducing him. They also sent the essay there. Queen Mary’s responded, inviting Remus to write an entrance exam. To get in, he needed to get through a math paper, a latin paper (which they agreed to turn into a general paper, hearing the boy never had a chance to study latin in his life), and an interview, but it was the english paper that valued the most. The other ones, he just needed to pass. In English he had to score excellent, his scholarship was dependent on it. And Professor Wilburough seemed to really, truthly believe he could do it. 

    Before he left, the teacher told him not to revise anymore in the train. The ride was supposed to clear his thoughts. When Eloise heard those words she agreed immediately, and in the morning checked his bag twice, making sure he hadn’t sneaked some books while nobody was looking. In that case, now, sitting in the carriage, the boy had not got anything to do, except for drowning in his thoughts, watching the rolling fields and fidgeting his fingers. It was only a matter of time before he fell asleep. 

    He didn’t dream of anything in particular. Blurry memories, some real and some made up. They appeared and disappeared, mixing with one another. The shapes of people, buildings and objects changed their sizes and colours. It felt similar to a fever dream, although not exactly. There was something too conscious in them. Too conscious for a sick person and too much even for a healthy one. 

    Noise from the door opening woke the boy up. His mouth was open, he had to be snoring. He straightened up quickly, closing it and shifting to see who interrupted him. 

    In the door there was a woman standing. She was comically short, sickeningly thin and her hair was enveloping her face like a halo. Bunch of coral necklaces were hanging off her neck, one more colorful than the other. Remus had never in his life seen an old woman dressed like that. The clothes she wore were hippie-like, decorated with various colours and patterns. Over her shoulders there was tied a golden shawl. At first she did not seem to notice him, her eyes focused on the window absentmindedly. When her gaze finally landed on the boy, something lightened up in her eyes. 

   “May I join you, young man?” She asked, clapping her hands together and collapsing into a seat opposite before he even got a chance to respond. She watched Remus for a second, blinking a few times and smiling. Now the boy was definitely uncomfortable. 

   “Er…sure.” He spoke, even though every possible amount of time decent for a response had clearly passed. That seemed to satisfy the woman, who nodded and shifted in her seat. For a few seconds nothing happened at all. Remus looked away, and turned to stare at the window again. Not much change outside, maybe the hills got more steep. Bunch of sheep here and there.

   Then something poked him. A finger. The woman was leaning forwards, a few candies on her opened hand. She gave him a smile, so sugary it made him feel dizzy.

“Fancy something sweet, love?”

   Remus swallowed, then shook his head. 

“No, I’m good ma’am.” He said, hoping to sound polite enough. 

    Her lips shifted, forming a thin line. 

“Are you sure?” Her voice sounded almost like she was about to cry. 

   The boy had no idea what to do. The woman was acting strange. There was definitely something wrong with her. A small voice inside his head was pretty certain. It was all good as long as she was calm though, right? What if his declining will push her into some actions? That was exactly why thirteen-year olds should not be traveling alone on a bloody train to some bloody school. 

    He sighed, leaning back as far as he was able to, keeping her at a distance. 

“Well, I’m not hungry now, but maybe for later…” He reached for one of the candies, taking it quickly and stuffing in his pocket. 

   The woman nodded, visibly not entirely happy yet, but a shade of smile passed by her face. She took her hand back. “Later. Later’s good, love. Yes.” She nodded and began to lean back and forth on her seat, like she was in a rocking chair. 

    Remus decided the best way out was to ignore the mad woman and wait until she got off the train. Unfortunately, the stations passed and passed, and the woman did not seem to plan to leave his carriage soon. She stopped the wobbling after a few minutes. Remus glued his gaze to the window, but he could not stop himself from giving her sideways glances from time to time. At least she started ignoring him too. When he looked about ten minutes later, her head was raised and she was staring into the carriage’s ceiling, eyes full of emptiness. 

   So until his station then. 

   Only to Remus’s horror, when they were about to arrive at the station, he was not the only one who got up from his seat. He almost jogged out of the carriage, but when he got off the train, able to breathe some fresh air for the first time in three hours, the woman was only two steps behind him. 

   The station looked like its canopy was ready to fall within seconds. It was in the middle of nowhere. He was surrounded by fields, huge open spaces.The only sign of civilization in sight was a couple of tall, castle-like buildings lurking at him from behind some trees. That, Remus thought, had to be Queen Mary’s. 

   It was raining. The boy realized the fact late, when his hair was already dripping wet. He hid under the canopy quickly, and so did the mad woman from the train. There was a barely visible footpath leading off the station towards the trees, and, he reckoned, towards the school. He looked down at himself, checking the state of his clothes. Unlike his hair, the shirt did not get wet much and still looked rather decent. Not a hopeless state, that’s good. He tried to think of ways to prevent himself from getting completely soaked in the rain, and finally reached out to the bag he was carrying. Luckily or not, the godforsaken scarf Eloise got him was still there. It was not too wide, but the boy didn't really have any other options. He pulled it out and raised it above his head, like some sort of an umbrella. Only long, handleless, woolly and er…British.

   “Good morning, Professor Trelawney.” A voice spoke, one that belonged neither to the woman nor to him. 

   Remus turned in the direction it came from. There was a boy sitting on the station bench, cross legged. Young man, more like. Strangely, the boy did not notice his presence in the first place. It had to be the woman’s fault, and his thoughts of escaping from her. The stranger nodded at the woman, who was standing on the grass two feet away from the station, soaking wet. She seemed to be drifting away in her thoughts, but at the sight of his voice she blinked, like someone woke her up from a trance, and gave him a smile, similar to the one she gave Remus back in the carriage. 

    “Oh, Mr Longbottom, how good to see you. Your sister broke her leg, didn’t she? Those kids on their bikes…” She began to walk away, still mumbling something to herself. Soon she melted into the forest through which the footpath led. 

    The guy just shook his head, a smile playing in the corner of his lips. 

   “Fucking bonkers.” His eyes landed on Remus, and he instantly raised an eyebrow. “And what the hell are you doing?”

    The boy realized he had been holding the scarf above his head the whole time. He put it down quickly. “Er…nothing, just don’t want to get wet and…”

   The guy snorted. “That’s what umbrellas are for. Didn't they teach you that one in that London bog standard comp of yours?” He stretched, then stood up and got down again, grabbing the umbrella he had to stuff under the bench. It looked fancy. Black, with a wooden handle and something written on it in golden letters. His free hand he threw forward, for Remus to shake. “Frank Longbottom.”

   Remus shook his hand. The guy had a bloody strong grip, almost crushing the boy’s fingers. “Remus Lupin.”

   “That’s what I hoped for. Shall we?” He pointed at the footpath with his finger and opened the umbrella. They left the station. Remus hoped the mad woman was not waiting for them somewhere in the forest. 

    “Right, so,” Frank started, glancing at him. “I’m a prefect, they told me to get you. I should probably say something like “Welcome at Queen Mary’s”, or “I’m delighted to welcome you to this wonderful place I am grateful to call my school”, but we’re not even there yet, so…” He shrugged. 

    Remus glanced at him, then let out a small laugh he just could not stop. The older boy seemed to be satisfied with that kind of response. 

    “Yeah, so good ol’ Dumby sent me to come and get you, so you won’t get lost in the forest or anything. And the school too, it’s easy to get lost between all of those…buildings and er… you know, all of that. S’not that big though. You’d be fine, if you ask me. But well, they didn't, so here I am. Oh, and if you want to know anything, just shoot.”

He had to lower a bit to fit both of them under the umbrella. Remus was much shorter. The two of them followed the footpath, soon they entered the small forest behind which the school was hiding. That reminded the boy of the strange woman.

   “Frank? Can I ask you something then?” 

   The perfect shrugged again. “That’s what I’m here for, aren’t I?”

   Remus looked around, making sure they were alone. “Who was that on the station? The woman?”

   Frank raised his eyebrows. “You mean Trelawney?”

   “I think?”

The prefect stopped, as if he just realized something. “Oh, right. You got off the same train, didn’t you? She’s teaching psychology in sixth form.” He began to walk again and Remus followed him. “Which pretty much means she’s mental. Don’t ever tell her anything about yourself, she’ll make a trauma out of it.”

   The boy frowned. “A trauma?”

  “Yeah. Once in class she overheard one dude talking about how he can’t find his math book anywhere in the dorm, and for two full months she would not stop going on and on about how him losing stuff is an obvious metaphor for him losing himself. Oh, and she ends every single one of those speeches with a “remember, you can always talk to me, if you want, love.” Surprise-no one ever wants to. And the “love thing”! I’m sure that in any other place it would be considered child molestation.  

    Remus had to listen with his eyes open comically wide, because Frank laughed as he glanced at the boy. “Don't worry, not every teacher is that…mad, around here. There are good ones too. And normal ones. Some of them.”

    Well, it was a castle. A real fucking castle. As they got through the woods a tall, bricked wall which parted the small forest from the school appeared. Its gate was wide open. On their way, Frank explained that it normally would have been closed in the summer, but because of the scholarship the whole place was running. He also told the boy that he was the only one who arrived today, as the rest of the candidates were already settled, using the school's staying-overnight offer. Remus shrugged at that. He remembered reading something about that option in the letter he received, but decided it was senseless. Even if it was free, staying longer could make him like the place, and that was something he truly wished to avoid. Chances he won’t get in were much bigger than the ones he will. Why disappoint yourself? And with every step the boy was proving himself right more and more. If he waited until tomorrow, he would definitely develop some sympathy for the place. 

    “Alright,” Frank stopped and Remus did too. The two of them stood in front of a massive, wooden castle door, bursted open. The hall behind it looked a bit too superlicious for the boy’s liking. “That,” Older prefect pointed out to the building. “Is the main part, Mary’s Eye as we call it. Headmaster’s office there, and the more important classes take place.”

   Remus nodded. 

   “Gotta go there now, Dumby asked to see all of you before the exams.” Frank continued as they entered the building. The boy was only half-listening, busy staring in all possible directions, absorbing the surroundings. The main hall had probably the highest ceiling he had ever seen. Portraits of some people he didn’t know but had to be important, were shooting glares at the boys, most of them looking like they just ate a whole lemon. The corridor ended in a split, dividing into four directions. One could either turn left or right to stay on the ground floor, or take one of the staircases - left or right - to go up. In the middle, in front of the wall separating the stairs, there was a statue on the pedestal. Bust of a man. 

   Frank noticed Remus staring at it. “Gellert Grindelwald. He was the headmaster before. Bit, er…controversial.”

   The boy frowned. “Why?”

   The older prefect glued his eyes to his shoes, like they suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. With amusement Remus thought that it was the first time since they met when Frank was not eager to talk. “Let’s just say he is not the school’s pride. But for some reason Dumby insisted on the statue. Only makes the whole thing worse, if you ask me.”

   The boy decided not to ask more questions, seeing Frank’s face. 

  “Let’s go, kid.” The prefect said, and they began to climb the left staircase. It was a bit claustrophobic, too narrow, and went around in circles. By the time the two of them reached the cabinet’s door, they were both panting. 

   “Behave, so you don’t ever have to climb the bloody stairs, remember.” Frank said, leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily. 

   Remus chuckled, then looked forward, at the door in front of them. He thought that they looked a bit scary. There was something strange about them, something that made him not want to come in. 

   But before Remus even knew, Frank reached to its handle and opened them wide. A loud, soft voice of an old man welcomed them. 

   “Ah, Mr Longbottom, I see you brought me someone.”

   The prefect pushed Remus into the room gently. He entered too, asking if the headmaster needed anything else. The old man shook his head, so Frank nodded and left, quickly showing Remus a thumbs up before closing the devilish door. 

   The boy swallowed. He was standing in the middle of a strange, old fashioned room, staring at its owner, who sat by a huge, wooden desk with papers tossed around on it. The old man stared back at him, smiling, clearly amused by something. Remus straightened up, realizing he had to look stupid. With the corner of his eye he glanced at his bag, making sure the idiotic scarf he stuffed in it was not visible. It wasn’t. His eyes focused back on the headmaster. 

   “Good morning, sir. I’m Remus Lupin, here for the entrance exam. Er, the scholarship.” 

   The old man’s smile widened. “Oh, I know who you are, Remus Lupin. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and, as I hope you’re aware, I’m the headmaster of this school. Please, take a seat.” He pointed out to a chair standing on the other side of the desk he was sitting by, close to Remus. 

   Well, that is just the most idiotic name I’ve ever heard, thought Remus, and took his seat.