GRYFFINDOR!
‘Ackerley, Christopher.’
A small boy with dark hair stumbled to the front. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. After a few moments, the brim stretched into a mouth, and the hat shouted, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’
The table on the far right erupted into cheers.
‘Aubrey, Bertram.’
A blonde boy who looked distinctly sick almost tripped over the hem of his robes as he hurried to sit on the rickety stool.
‘RAVENCLAW!’ The table second to the right cheered as Bertram Aubrey rushed over to his new housemates.
‘Avery, Sabino,’ Professor McGonagall read.
A boy with a bored expression pushed past Remus, bumping into him as he did.
The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, ‘SLYTHERIN!’
The table on the far left broke into cheers while the rest of the hall remained silent. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw Oliver grimace.
‘Baddock, Diana.’
‘SLYTHERIN!’
‘Bell, Frederic.’
This time, it took the hat a few moments before sorting the boy with the flushed neck into—
‘HUFFLEPUFF!’
‘Black, Sirius.’
The black-haired boy who had joked about the Sorting strode to the chair, eyes fixed firmly on the hat.
His friend gave him a thumbs-up, grinning. Sirius Black didn’t seem to notice, but something flickered across his face for a split second before Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. Though he was easily one of the tallest first-years, the hat slipped over his forehead.
Like with Bell before him, it took a couple of seconds before the hat yelled,
‘GRYFFINDOR!’
Sirius Black’s sorting was not met with joyful cheers and applause. Some younger students clapped, but the applause quickly died when the rest of Gryffindor House remained silent. Even Professor McGonagall looked surprised for some reason. Only Sirius Black’s black-haired friend was obviously thrilled by the outcome, looking as though he was on the verge of jumping up and down.
Sirius leapt from the stool, landing silently on his feet, and ripped the hat from his head. He shoved it into Professor McGonagall’s hands and walked towards the Gryffindor table, where Christopher Ackerley smiled at him. A few seats down, an older student leaned in to whisper something to her friend.
The moment passed as quickly as it had come. Professor McGonagall glanced at her parchment and called, ‘Boardman, Isla,’ who was sorted into Ravenclaw.
She was quickly followed by a string of students. Remus had no idea how he was supposed to remember so many names—and these were just the first-years.
Cadwallader, Thomas.
Carmichael, Federica.
Catchlove, Greta.
Greta Catchlove stumbled on her way to the Hufflepuff table, nearly knocking her head against the tabletop. She resurfaced, her face so red it matched the scarlet of the Hogwarts Express.
Croaker, Malcolm.
Derwent, Juliet.
Dobbs, Mary.
The group of children waiting to be sorted slowly thinned. Sometimes, the hat decided in seconds. Other times, it hesitated, taking a minute or more.
Remus wondered why that was—and what would happen if the hat didn’t know where to put him. Would he be sent home?
‘Evans, Lily,’ Professor McGonagall said.
The small red-haired girl Remus had bumped into on the train walked to the front. Her hands and legs trembled as she sat down on the rickety stool. Her black-eyed friend watched her closely.
The hat had barely touched Lily Evans’ dark red hair before it shouted, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’
Her friend let out a tiny groan, but Lily simply took off the hat, handed it to Professor McGonagall, and hurried to the cheering Gryffindors. As she went, she glanced back. Sirius Black shifted on the bench to make room for her. She took one look at him, folded her arms, and firmly turned her back, eyes set on the Sorting.
Fawcett, Jacob.
Flume, Juliet.
Fortescue, Emma.
With every name Professor McGonagall called, Remus grew more uneasy. How was he supposed to remember all these people’s houses? They were all wearing black robes.
Gibbon, Janine.
Grimstone, Violet.
Higgs, Bertie.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of eyes watched whoever took the seat on the stool.
Remus’ heart hammered so loudly in his chest it nearly drowned out the waves of applause.
Hitchens, Tina.
Jordan, David.
Jugson, Elisabeth.
Slytherin. He would be sorted into Slytherin. He curled his hand into a fist, hidden beneath the hem of his sleeve.
Kirke, Andrew.
Remus drew a shaky breath. Surely there was another student whose name started with ‘L’?
‘Lupin, Remus.’
Someone nudged his arm and whispered, ‘You got this, mate.’Remus turned his head. Oliver was smiling at him. A brief flash of gratitude surged through him.
Afraid his knees would give way, Remus walked towards Professor McGonagall, wishing he wouldn’t trip. He felt those hundreds of eyes pressing on his skin, drilling into his skull. As he sat down, he focused with all his might on fighting back the bile rising in his throat.
Just before the hat slipped over his eyes, he caught Peter’s gaze. His lips were pulled into a nervous smile, his cheeks a blotchy pink—somehow both pale and flushed.
The hall vanished. It all went dark.
And then, suddenly, a voice startled him.
‘Another Lupin. It’s been a while since I sorted your father. I put him in Hufflepuff, of course, though he would have made a good Ravenclaw. But you are not your father, are you? Let’s see what we find in that mind of yours.’
Remus tensed. He hadn’t taken the hat’s song literally. Why hadn’t his father warned him about this—told him the hat would read his mind? What good was ‘keeping your guard up’ if all it took was a bit of battered old fabric and the whole school would know—
‘Battered old fabric?’ The voice inside his head sounded amused. ‘I might not be pretty, but don’t judge on what you see. Take it from me - it’s what’s inside that matters.’
Remus’ hands tightened around the edge of the stool. The hat didn’t know, right? It couldn’t. How could a hat possibly know?
‘Oh, but I do know.’
Ice water trickled down Remus’ spine. Gone was the fear of ending up in Slytherin. Now he knew—the hat wouldn’t put him in any house.
He shut his eyes tighter, bracing himself for the hat to cry WEREWOLF across a hall full of people.
‘And I can see you’ve been through a lot. Mh…’
Any second now.
‘I’m sure you will prove yourself in... GRYFFINDOR!’
The hat shouted the last word into the Great Hall. Cheers erupted.
Professor McGonagall lifted the hat, and Remus’ eyes found Peter, who was still smiling that nervous smile. Remus returned it, though it didn’t feel like his face obeyed him. Slowly, he walked over to the Gryffindor table and sank down on the bench beside David Jordan. Relief washed over him.
‘Hi,’ said David Jordan.
Mary Dobbs and Lily Evans smiled at him. Now that the focus had shifted away, the Sorting seemed far less agonising.
The roll call continued.
Some students were sent to Slytherin, some to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. The Gryffindors were soon joined by Rebecca Madley and Susan Perks before—
‘Pettigrew, Peter.’
Peter looked as nauseous as Remus had felt. His cheeks were even blotchier now, and he shut his eyes before Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head.
For good reason, as it turned out. The hat took longer than it had for half the other students combined. So long, in fact, that Remus began to wonder if it was broken. Professor McGonagall watched silently, but after what had to be five minutes, her eyebrows drew together the tiniest bit. The hall grew impatient. Students started shifting in their seats, whispering to their friends.
Then, after an eternity—
‘GRYFFINDOR!’
Peter hurried to join them, just when Professor McGonagall said,
‘Potter, James.’
The boy with the messy black hair strode towards Professor McGonagall, shoulders high and a grin on his face. It made him look much taller than he actually was. When she placed the hat on his head, his grin flickered, but the hat barely touched James’ unruly hair before it cried, ‘GRYFFINDOR.’
Grin widening again, James drew himself up while the Gryffindor table exploded with cheers. He wedged himself between Lily, who shot him a withering glare, and Sirius.
‘Looks like you got your wish,’ said Sirius. Remus hadn’t noticed before, but compared to James, who looked completely at ease, Sirius seemed tense.
Saunders, Barron.
‘Looks like I was right about you,’ said James, grin splitting across his face. He attempted to ruffle Sirius’ hair. His hand was swiftly swatted away.
Savage, Niles.
‘Bugger off, Potter,' said Sirius, the corner of his lips twitching. He eyed James’ hair, lifting an eyebrow. ‘Not everyone fancies their hair looking like that.’
Selwyn, Constance.
James’ smile didn’t falter.
‘I knew it. We’ll do great things together!’ he said loudly, earning a small curl of Sirius’ lips. Lily, who was still watching the Sorting ceremony, shot another glare at James, pressing a finger to her lips as ‘Shingleton, Gaspard.’ was made a Ravenclaw.
‘Sorry for ruining the suspense,’ Sirius said.
Lily rolled her eyes at him but, instead of answering, began clapping for Linda Sloper, who had just been sorted into Gryffindor. Now, only a dozen people remained.
‘Snape, Severus,’ Professor McGonagall read.
Lily’s friend moved to the stool, sat down, and the hat was placed on his head. It took only the blink of an eye for it to cry, ‘SLYTHERIN.’
James made a noise of disgust, and Lily glared at him for the third time in five minutes, though she seemed disappointed herself. Her eyes followed her friend as he slumped over to the Slytherin table and took a seat beside a tall boy with a pointed face and some sort of medal attached to his chest. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall had already called, ‘Stebbins, Christopher.’
‘Predictable,’ said Sirius. His expression was blank, but his eyes flitted to where Severus Snape was sitting next to the boy with the medal.
‘Oh, what do you know!’ Lily’s face was flushed with anger.
‘Well—‘
‘In case I haven’t made myself clear, I don’t care what you think,' said Lily coolly and turned to catch Severus Snape’s gaze. But her friend was staring down at his plate.
The last few students were sorted.
Alexandra Timms and Arion Zeller joined Gryffindor. Oliver and Jonathan, from the train, went to Ravenclaw—Remus wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Then, Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair.
He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.
‘Welcome!’ he said. ‘Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. There is much to say, but I don’t have the heart to stand between you and your well-deserved feast a second longer. And, to be honest, I’m a bit hungry myself.’
A few people laughed and Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands. In front of Remus, all along the table, appeared the most delicious-looking dishes: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
‘Thank you.’ Professor Dumbledore sat back down. Everyone clapped and cheered.
Remus had never seen so much food at once. He hadn’t even known that food could be conjured with magic—at home, it was his mother who did the cooking. But of course it could. The other students were already tucking in. Across the table, James Potter was helping himself to anything within his reach.
Once the nerves had ebbed away a bit, Remus felt that he was indeed very hungry. Besides, it gave him something to do.
All around him, new and old Gryffindor students had started to chat happily, neither bothered by the noise nor the fact that literal ghosts were sitting among them. Just a few seats down the table, a pearly white ghost in a ruff was chatting to a freckled boy, and across the hall at the Slytherin table sat a horrible-looking ghost with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with something silver.
Probably not tomato sauce, Remus thought and helped himself to boiled potatoes and some sort of sausages—the only dishes he could reach by himself.
‘How does no one know about this?’ said Mary Dobbs, voice full of wonder. She had stopped eating, her gaze wandering through the huge hall. ‘This castle is huge!’
‘Magic,’ said Sirius. Looking up from his plate and catching Mary’s confused look, he added, ‘Muggle-repelling charms.’
James caught his gaze, raising his eyebrows. Something passed over Sirius’ face, and he gave a nod—so slight it was easy to miss—and resumed to pushing his carrots around his plate.
‘Muggle-repelling charms?’ Mary asked.
‘My dad says Muggles—‘ one of the other first-year girls with light brown hair—Remus had already forgotten her name—turned to Mary, ‘—um, Muggles, that’s non-magic folk, can’t get close to the castle. There are charms placed on the area to make sure of that.’
‘If someone gets close, they’ll suddenly remember something important and leave,’ a boy added. ‘And of course they don’t see a castle at all. Just some old ruins and warning signs.’
Remus skewered another sausage and caught Peter’s eye, who sat a few seats down the table. Remus flashed him a small smile, which Peter returned immediately. The heavy feeling in his stomach abated a bit.
Mary was still staring at the boy, whose lips turned into a small smile. ‘I bet they have a copy of Hogwarts: A History in the library if you want to learn more.’
‘There’s a library?’
‘A library, classrooms, there’s even staircases and bathrooms,’ one of the other first years said.
Lily Evans flipped her hair over her shoulder and glared at him. ‘And idiots, apparently,’ she said, turning to face the girl with the light brown hair. She pointed at the ceiling. ‘What do they do when it’s raining?’
Confusion drew the girl’s eyebrows together for a split second before she smiled. 'Oh, no, it’s just a spell, isn’t it?' She looked around for confirmation, her gaze drifting across the other first years. ‘The ceiling just mirrors the sky, right?’
Remus had a hard time believing that there was any ceiling at all. It certainly looked as if the candles were floating in the open night sky, their light contrasting the velvety black and resembling the small dots above—stars.
'Yes, it’s just a spell,' the boy who had explained the Muggle-repelling charms confirmed.
Lily nodded, apparently pleased. She pulled in her bottom lip. ‘I’m sorry, what were your names again?’ she asked, looking around. ‘I’m Lily.’
<><>
When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later, the puddings appeared—blocks of ice-cream in every flavour you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…
Remus took a few of the strawberries, thinking of the jam his mum would make every summer.
At least three conversations were going on around him at once. Lily Evans, Mary Dobbs and—as it turned out—Rebecca Madley were still discussing Hogwarts castle. The rude boy and his friend were having a hushed conversation about their families. James Potter and Sirius Black were laughing about something only they seemed to understand. Peter Pettigrew, however, was munching on his doughnut as quietly as Remus was pushing strawberry after strawberry into his mouth.
He felt as if everyone else had been given a manual explaining how to behave—everyone except him. He had met pirates, thieves, adventurers through other people’s words (there hadn’t been much else to do). He had dived into their thoughts, even foreign worlds. And now that he had been thrown into this world where he should feel at home—he didn’t know what to do.
It was too real.
At last, the puddings too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent.
‘Ahem—just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices for you.
First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils.’
James Potter exchanged a look with Sirius Black, and in that moment, Remus made the decision to keep away from them. They seemed to be exactly the sort of people his father had warned him about.
‘I am also thrilled—and I know that Professor Sprout shares my excitement—to tell you that the school has been gifted a very rare and valuable tree. The willow has been planted on the grounds and is growing remarkably under Professor Sprout’s care. You are encouraged to marvel at its beauty, but I must kindly ask you not to disrupt its tranquility. As it happens, the tree is rather sensitive, and I would hate for future generations of students to lose out on the opportunity of studying it. I know you will understand this, thank you.’
James Potter looked utterly bored at the mention of ‘tranquility’, his chin resting on his hand.
‘I also have been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.’
James turned to Sirius. ‘Are you thinking what I think?’
Sirius’ lips twitched. ‘During classes?’
James opened his mouth but quickly closed it at Professor Dumbledore’s next words. All of a sudden, he straightened his back.
‘Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
And now, before we go to bed, let’s sing the school song!’ cried Professor Dumbledore.
Remus blinked, looking around. Lily and Mary were both staring at Professor Dumbledore, and even Rebecca Madley—who knew an awful lot about Hogwarts already—seemed surprised. The other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed.
Professor Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, rising high above the tables and twisting itself snake-like into words.
'Everyone pick their favourite tune,’ said Professor Dumbledore, ‘and off we go.’
Glancing at the other first years, Remus chimed in very quietly, but at least he tried—unlike the boy with the medal over at the Slytherin table, whose lips remained as sealed as Sirius’.
Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald,
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling,
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we’ve forgot,
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot.
The last tunes slowly died away. It seemed the students had taken Professor Dumbledore’s words at face value. Someone at the Hufflepuff table was the last to finish, singing in a very deep voice, and making strange pauses between the words. Professor Dumbledore waited patiently before he smiled.
‘Ah, music,’ he said, wiping his eyes. ‘A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime! Off you trot!’
Chaos erupted in every corner of the Great Hall as all the students rose from their seats at the same time.
A blue-eyed boy with faint hair and at least two heads taller than Remus yelled towards the end of the table where the new Gryffindor students were sitting,
‘First years, over here! First years to me, please!’
He waited until the small group of some sixteen students had gathered around him before he continued, ‘Welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Stuart Dingle, prefect of Gryffindor house. That’s my fellow prefect, Melinda Clarkson,’ he said, waving at the girl standing next to him. ‘Congratulations! I’m not supposed to say this, but between us, Gryffindor is by far the best house—Dumbledore himself was in Gryffindor, you know.’
‘Stuart,’ said Melinda Clarkson in a would-be reprimanding tone that somehow caved under her smile.
‘Just the truth, Mel, they’ll find out soon enough,’ Stuart shrugged. ‘Anyway, we’re happy to have you, and we’re always happy to help. Gryffindors stick together. Don’t hesitate to ask us anything that’s weighing on your little hearts.’
‘Or come to us when you need anything,’ Melinda added, more sincerely.
Stuart nodded, gaze sweeping over the small group of students as if expecting them to raise their hands and ask a question right away. No one did.
‘No? Great. Then let’s go see the best place in this castle. Our common room!’ he said with the air of someone offering a great treat. ‘Follow me.’
But Remus wouldn’t learn about the location of their common room. Not now and not from Stuart Dingle or Melinda Clarkson, anyhow.
A sharp voice called after him. ‘Mr Lupin, a word please.’
When he turned around, he saw stern-looking Professor McGonagall standing at the top of the aisle.
At once, the nausea was back.
They would tell him that a mistake had been made. That they had never actually intended to let a werewolf stay at Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and beckoned him to follow. She led him out of the Great Hall, up to the first floor, and into a small room. Red and orange flames danced in the fireplace.
‘Have a seat, Mr Lupin,’ she said, almost smiling now.
The door opened again, and in strolled Professor Dumbledore, followed by a woman around his mother’s age.
With a friendly smile, Professor Dumbledore raised his wand and— in thin air—drew two large, comfortable-looking chintz armchairs.
‘Do you find your first evening at Hogwarts enjoyable, Remus?’ he asked once they had all taken a seat.
‘Erm… yes?’ Three pairs of eyes stared back at him. Surely this wasn’t an inquisition about his well-being.
‘This isn’t a quiz,’ Professor Dumbledore said kindly, and Remus let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. ‘But I am pleased to hear it. I can see why you have been placed in Gryffindor. You are already carrying more than many wizards do in a whole lifetime. But, I am afraid, I must ask you to carry even more.’
They were getting to the point, then. In the end, it always came down to the same thing.
Remus swallowed around the knot in his throat.
‘We consider ourselves lucky to welcome you to Hogwarts, Remus.’
That didn’t sound like he was being kicked out?
‘But, of course, a few precautions must be taken to ensure your safety… as well as the safety of our other students, since there is still no cure for lycanthropy.’
Remus only nodded. If there were a cure, his parents would have found it.
Healers they had consulted, experimental potions his father had bought and tested on himself before giving them to Remus, magical rituals in languages Remus didn’t understand.
‘People with your condition still face prejudice,’ Professor Dumbledore went on.
Remus didn’t miss the word Professor Dumbledore chose not to say. But lycanthrope wasn’t the word they used in stories, wasn’t the word that evoked fear.
He hated the kid gloves, hypocrite that he was.
Remus switched between calling himself a monster in the days following the full moon and thinking of his condition as the L-thing on better days. As if this sort of detachment, reducing it to something clinical, would take him away from the truth.
The truth was that there was no line separating him from the wolf. But it was his life and his reality, so he could be a hypocrite about it. He could cling to the pretence of normalcy because even if he did there was no way he would ever forget the truth.
But he hated it when other people acted as if he didn’t know what he was. As if he were so fragile that just hearing the word would shatter him to pieces.
Of course, Remus didn’t say any of that. He only stared at Professor Dumbledore, silent.
He was being ungrateful. He shouldn’t get hung up on a single word. Professor Dumbledore was being so kind to him.
‘People like you are rare, and humans have always feared the unknown, I’m afraid. I think it is safest if the people in this room remain the only ones who know about your condition. The fewer who know, the safer the secret.’
‘The teachers don’t know?’ Remus burst out, confused.
‘I haven’t told the other staff,’ said Professor Dumbledore, assessing him over the rim of his spectacles. ‘It isn’t my secret to tell, and I don’t see why they would need to know. You are their student—that is all that matters. All that should matter,’ he amended with a sad smile.
Remus didn’t return it. He didn’t need reminding of people’s opinions of people like him. The so-called specialists his father had found had refused to meet his eyes, talk to him directly, or wiped their hands after touching him.
‘We don’t want to risk anything, of course. Madam Pomfrey is a very capable healer, in charge of the Hospital Wing. We are fortunate she agreed to come and work at Hogwarts. She will escort you to a place that has been specifically designed for your needs. You will meet her here, in Professor McGonagall’s office, an hour and a half before sunset. She will also collect you the next morning at sunrise.’
Madam Pomfrey flashed him a kind smile. She looked nice enough, but Remus didn’t like the sympathetic expression glued to her face. It made him feel even smaller than he was.
‘I won’t lie to you, Remus. We can’t stop your transformations from being as unpleasant as you know them to be. Nothing known to wizardkind can change that.’
Remus shrugged—a small rise and fall of his shoulders, his hands still firmly clasped in his lap. He hadn’t expected anything else. That would have been too good.
‘But you will find that you are in the most capable of hands. With Madam Pomfrey’s care, I am confident you will be able to attend your classes.’
A small, incredulous laugh escaped Remus’s mouth, and he tried to mask it with a cough. But Professor Dumbledore’s piercing blue eyes pinned him down.
‘Yes, Remus, even after a full moon,’ he said, as if reading his mind. ‘We will do everything in our power to ensure there is no more pain than necessary. You are at Hogwarts now. We are rather good at working our magic…’
Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, and for a moment, Remus wasn’t sure whether he had seen him wink, but then the moment was gone, pushed aside by Professor Dumbledore’s next, more sincere words.
‘Is there anything you would like to ask, Remus? Anything at all?’
He quickly shook his head. Even if the presence of the three people in front of him hadn’t robbed him of the courage to ask, his throat felt impossibly dry.
His nod was a lie. His mind was racing with questions.
Where was he expected to go? What did designed for his needs mean? What did it look like? Who had designed it? Professor Dumbledore? How did they know it was safe? What did this healer know about werewolves? Had she ever treated one before? Had there been other werewolves at Hogwarts?
No, he knew the answer to that last one—Professor Dumbledore had told his parents when he visited months ago.
Professor Dumbledore’s eyes lingered on him for a moment before he smiled.
‘If this changes, please know my door is always open to you. And I’m surely not mistaken if I say Poppy and Minerva’s are as well.’
The two witches nodded.
‘I shall expect you to meet Madam Pomfrey on Sunday evening, then. Do you need a timetable or a lunar chart for the time being?’
Remus shook his head. A vision of his father folding a chart listing the full moons and sunset times flashed before his mind. He had stored it somewhere in his trunk.
‘Very well. Enjoy your first day of classes, Remus,’ Dumbledore said, rising from his armchair.
‘Poppy, Minerva.’ Professor Dumbledore stepped into the fireplace and, with a swirl of green flames, was gone. Madam Pomfrey followed quickly, and Remus was left alone with Professor McGonagall.
‘I assume you don’t yet know how to get to the Gryffindor common room, Mr Lupin?’ she asked. But without waiting for an answer, she continued, ‘Of course you don’t. I will show you.’
Remus followed Professor McGonagall back into the hallway.
They climbed what felt like at least a hundred staircases. The castle’s hallways were lined with suits of armour, and the walls were covered in portraits. The inhabitants moved, like the pictures in his father’s newspaper, The Daily Prophet.
When Remus was almost out of breath, they finally stopped in a corridor several floors above the Entrance Hall. At the very end hung a portrait of a large lady in a festive pink gown.
‘The Fat Lady guards the entrance to Gryffindor common room,’ said Professor McGonagall, nodding at the portrait. ‘She will open for you when given the correct password. Which, at the moment, is Shepherd’s pie.’
With that, she reached out as though to pat Remus’s shoulder, but seemed to think better of it. Her hand fell away.
‘I will see you in class, Mr Lupin.’ With the hint of a smile, she swirled around and left.
Slowly, Remus crept towards the portrait. He felt a bit stupid about it—the corridor was empty, after all.
‘Password?’ the Fat Lady asked.
‘Um… Shepherd’s pie?’ he said reluctantly. It sounded more like a question than anything else.
‘Indeed,’ she said.
The portrait swung open to reveal a circular room.
For the first time in his life, Remus climbed into Gryffindor common room.