The Gryffindor Tower
September 1st, 1971
The Gryffindor common room was like something out of a dream. The walls were lined with tapestries and portraits, all bathed in the warm glow of the crackling fireplace. Plush armchairs and couches were scattered around the room, and groups of older students were already sprawled across them, chatting and laughing. The younger students filed in, their faces a mix of exhaustion and wonder.
Remus followed James, Sirius, and Peter as a fifth-year prefect led them up a spiral staircase to the boys’ dormitories. The room they entered was cozy, with five four-poster beds draped in rich red curtains, each adorned with a Gryffindor crest. Their trunks had been delivered and placed neatly at the foot of their beds.
“This is brilliant!” James exclaimed, flopping onto the nearest bed and bouncing a little on the mattress.
Peter immediately began rummaging through his trunk, pulling out pajamas. Sirius, meanwhile, sauntered over to his bed and dropped onto it with a dramatic sigh.
“I could get used to this,” he said, stretching his arms over his head.
Remus sat down on the edge of his bed, running his hand over the soft, red duvet. It was the nicest place he’d ever stayed.
As they began unpacking their belongings, Sirius suddenly dug into his trunk and pulled out a small, sleek box. With a flourish, he set it on his bedside table and opened it to reveal a shiny, black record player.
James whistled. “Didn’t know you had style, Black.”
“Of course I do,” Sirius replied with a grin. “And taste. Wait till you hear this.”
He reached into his trunk again and retrieved a stack of records. He flicked through them, muttering the titles. “The Beatles, Bowie, Queen… Ah, this’ll do.” He pulled out a record with a colorful, surreal cover and placed it on the player.
The opening chords of David Bowie’s “Starman” filled the room, the sound soft but clear, and the rich voice of Bowie carried over the hum of conversation.
Remus perked up immediately, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You like Bowie?”
“Obviously,” Sirius said, leaning back against his headboard. “He’s a genius.”
Remus hesitated, then nodded. “I have the Hunky Dory album at home. My mum loves him.”
Sirius sat up, his eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. What else do you listen to?”
“The Beatles, mostly,” Remus said. “We’ve got all their albums. And Queen—Freddie Mercury’s amazing.”
“Alright, Lupin,” Sirius said, grinning. “You might actually be worth keeping around.”
James snorted. “You’ve known him for, what, five minutes?”
Sirius ignored him, rummaging through his records. “What about this one?” He held up Abbey Road.
“Abbey Road is brilliant,” Remus said, unable to hide his enthusiasm. “Come Together might be their best opener.”
Sirius nodded in approval. “Alright, we’re playing it next.”
As the music played, the tension of the day seemed to melt away. Peter listened quietly, tapping his foot to the rhythm, while James hummed along, albeit slightly off-key. Sirius and Remus traded snippets of lyrics, their voices blending in a way that felt strangely natural.
“This is way better than what I’d be hearing at home,” Sirius admitted, his voice quieter now.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “What would you hear at home?”
Sirius made a face. “Stuffy old classical music. Wagner, Tchaikovsky—nothing wrong with it, but it’s all my parents play. This,” he gestured to the record player, “drives them mad. They hate it, so naturally, I love it.”
Remus chuckled. “My mum’s the opposite. She says music’s supposed to make you feel something, not just impress people.”
“Your mum sounds alright,” Sirius said, stretching out on his bed.
“Your mum sounds better than his, at least,” James added, grinning.
Sirius threw a pillow at him. “Shut it, Potter.”
The banter continued as the record switched to another track. By the time Sirius switched over to Bohemian Rhapsody, even Peter was singing along, his nervousness fading into the background.
For the first time that night, Remus felt like he belonged. He had spent so much of his life hiding, keeping himself at a distance, but here—in this small, messy dorm room filled with music and laughter—it didn’t seem so impossible to let his guard down, if only just a little.
As the final notes of the song faded, Sirius sat up again, his grin wide. “Right, tomorrow we’re starting the school year properly. Magic, trouble, and as much fun as we can possibly get away with.”
James raised a hand. “Hear, hear!”