Welcome to Gryffindor
The forest was dark and the night air cool as Remus rushed through it, stumbling a little on the uneven ground. A sharp tug kept him upright.
“Come on, be quick!” his mother urged in hushed tones through her gasping breaths. She was small, ever so much more so than he, but that didn’t stop her from practically dragging him behind her.
His ears strained to hear anything following them, but between his heartbeat, their footfalls, and the noise of their laboured breathing, he couldn’t hear much.
Finally, the cottage came into view, the candles still burning inside from Hope leaving in such a hurry. Now she tugged him to the door, flung it open, and pushed him through with more strength than he had ever known she had. She shut the door quickly behind them. He had known she was scared as they ran, but the darkness had prevented him from seeing her clearly and left him unprepared for the pure terror in her expression.
“What were you thinking?!” she cried, her brogue more prominent than usual as it always was when she was upset.
“Mam, do you honestly think I meant for–”
A strange sort of strangled gasp left his mother’s body, and she turned quickly to the door, seemingly bracing herself against it as she tried to catch her breath. A moment later, she made another sort of strangled sound–though this one sounded more like a sob–and one of her hands immediately clamped over her mouth. She stood there with her back to him, silently shaking. Remus realised he was shaking too.
“Mam, I–”
“You have to leave,” she said quietly, turning to him, her eyes far away. A calm seemed to be settling over her, and her eyes snapped back to his. “You have to leave, now.”
“What?” He wouldn’t have believed she meant it if her eyes weren’t so intense. “You– you can’t be serious.”
“You’ll have to leave town.” Her voice grew louder and more sure as she began weaving through the cottage grabbing… things and putting them together in a sort of pack. “You’ll have to go far. Very far. Somewhere people don’t know you.” She paused her bustling as an idea seemed to strike. “Gryffindor,” she stated decidedly, resuming her busywork about the house. “You will go to Gryffindor.”
“Gryffindor?” That was enough to shock him out of the stupor he had been standing in. “Gryff–? I’m sorry, but do you not hear yourself?”
She carried on. “I have a friend–well, an old frien–” She rethought. “...An acquaintance there. I’ll write a letter and hopefully that’ll be enough–”
“Slow down, Mam. I’m not–”
“You’ll need a job, too. I didn’t raise you to sit on your–”
“Mam!” Her large brown eyes were a bit teary when they met his, and he felt a tinge bad for raising his voice. He gently put his hands on her shoulders, looked her deeply in the eyes, and did his best to quell his emotions. It still took him two tries before he was able to say, “I’m not gonna leave you. I can’t, ‘kay? So let’s just–”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and stepping back. “You have to go. You have to!” she reiterated over his protests. “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll… think of some way to explain, but you–” She put her hands gently on the sides of his face. ”You have to go. You know you have to. This town was never gonna be big enough for you, Remus. You have greatness in you. You have a destiny that will last far and away beyond this time and these… small-minded people.” She shook her head again.
“I don’t know what that would even look like,” he replied, his voice quiet and empty.
She studied him for a second. Her eyes were gentle and discerning and always seemed to see right through him to his core, reading his emotions and drawing them through his layers until they were on the outside, exposed and unavoidable. Finally, she spoke. “No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, he must live and learn.” She pulled him closer until their foreheads nearly touched. “Live,” she repeated. “And learn. You have magic,” she whispered fiercely. “Remus, you are magic. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
His throat tightened. He quickly pulled her in for a hug, tucking her into his chest. She wrapped her arms around his bony frame and held him as tightly as she could.
He left before dawn.
The next day, he woke alone in the forest a little ways off the beaten path where he had plopped himself down to have a quick kip after walking for several hours. He thought of making himself some breakfast, tried, and remembered why he had given up cooking. He decided breakfast wasn’t that important anyway, packed his things, and headed along down the road towards his destination.
Gryffindor. Now that he was officially on his way with no angry villager pursuers in sight, he was actually a bit excited. He had a bounce in his step and took deep breaths, enjoying the new sights and smells. He hadn’t left his village much before and had been getting a bit stir-crazy, but he hadn’t realised just how restless he felt until now.
Eventually, his road met with another and together they became a nice, wide, well-worn road headed straight for Gryffindor. It must have been an oft used road to be so worn, but at the moment there seemed to be no one on it but him. Not a living soul for miles besides the birds chirping and fluttering from this tree to that.
He quite liked the solitude. There was no one he had to worry about or hide from, no one threatening his secret or existence. It was just him and the open road.
“Hullo!”
He spun around to see a boy probably close to him in age but nearer his mother in height. He had a round face, blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a wide smile. His hand was outstretched, but once he saw Remus’ expression he retracted it sheepishly.
“Sorry, mate. Didn’t mean to startle you, just glad not to be alone anymore, y’know?” His smile returned, and he extended his hand again. “My name’s Peter.”
“Remus,” he supplied warily as he shook his hand, hoping to keep the exchange as brief as possible.
“Pleasure to meet you, Remus!” Whatever enthusiasm Remus was missing in the interaction, Peter more than made up for. “So,” he continued, rocking back on his heels and sliding his thumbs under the straps of the pack on his back, “where are you headed?”
“That way.” Remus nodded his head vaguely down the road, as he turned to continue his journey.
“Brilliant! I am too.” Peter jumped into step alongside him. “Mind if I tag along?” He bumped his shoulder into Remus in a friendly-type way. Remus did his best not to grimace.
It wasn’t personal. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with Peter; they were just… too close. Too close to Remus’ home. Too close to the rumours and gossip that may have spread to nearby towns. …Too close to any possible witnesses, his brain supplied, and this time he did grimace.
“How long are you on this road?” Peter asked, oblivious and chipper.
“A ways,” Remus replied. Then, feeling a tinge guilty for his unsociable behaviour, he added, “I’m heading to Gryffindor. And you?”
“I’m heading there too! What luck, we can go together the whole way.” Peter was positively buzzing. “My uncle’s a smithy there, and me mum decided it was about time I got out of the house. I did most of the metalworking in my village, and we’re hoping–me and my mum, that is–that he’ll let me on as his apprentice. I’ve always enjoyed metalworking, taught myself all I know mostly just from trial and error–”
He didn’t appear to be slowing down. Remus sighed. This was going to be a very long journey.
It turned out to be not so bad as Peter knew how to cook. Nighttime was the worst though, as Peter seemed to fear every living being and constantly required Remus’ assurance that no bear, wolf, lynx, wildcat, badger, or marten was going to sneak up on them in their sleep. Every owl's hoot was a threat and every snapped twig a sign of impending doom. At one point, Remus wished a bear would eat them as then he’d finally get some rest. Pete didn’t find the thought as comforting as he did.
And then, they were there, finally at the great gates of Gryffindor with stone walls climbing high into the sky. Houses and shops lined the streets with people spilling out and weaving their ways to their destinations–perhaps the butcher shop for her, or the market for him. As much as Remus didn’t generally care for people, something about the newness and energy of it all swept him away. Peter was beaming, and Remus found himself to be smiling too.
A bigger commotion than usual seemed to be happening in the main street. What appeared to be royal guards were clearing a path for a procession of sorts. Remus and Peter ended up pushed to the side as people pressed in to make way.
“What’s happening?” Peter asked, jumping a little in an attempt to see over the heads of those in front of him. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Really?” Remus replied nonchalantly. “A shame. I can see perfectly well.”
Peter sent him a dirty look. “Well, just because you’re the human equivalent of a ladder doesn’t mean we all are.”
“I can try to find you a ladder, if you’d like,” Remus stated, keeping his expression neutral. When Pete’s scowl deepened, he found he couldn’t completely keep the smile off his face.
He looked over the crowd to the street to see a squad of royal guards riding by surrounding a single figure on horseback. The figure had curly black hair, skin that seemed to have never seen the sun, sharp, angular features, and calculating grey eyes. He sat stiffly with impeccable posture and a decided air of coolness about him.
“It’s just some snooty nobleman, it seems,” Remus told Peter.
“Snoo–” the person in front of Remus nearly choked. She turned to glare at him, seemingly offended. “That is the king’s ward Regulus,” she said, giving the statement with all the airs and dignity she–apparently–deemed necessary.
Remus and Peter glanced at each other, then quickly looked away so as not to start sniggering. It wasn’t even that funny, but for some reason, if he looked Pete in the eye right then, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face.
The woman continued. “He’s been away the last two years studying in the monastery at Point Ivory.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” Remus remarked. He couldn’t help himself. The high-and-mighty air? The pale complexion? This boy was practically royalty and had spent the last two years in a literal ivory tower.
The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously as if unsure whether to take that as an insult to her beloved Regulus or not.
Before she could make up her mind, Remus clapped his hands together. “Well, we best be off, Pete.”
“Right!” Peter chimed in. They began winding their way out of the crowd as Peter called a “cheers!” over his shoulder.
When they found their way to a less crowded street, they slowly came to a stop as they realised they were about to go in different directions.
“Well, I’ve… got to go find my uncle,” Peter said slowly, shifting his weight back and forth.
“And I’m… heading to the castle.” Remus wasn’t sure why he found himself reluctant to part ways now. Suddenly, he felt Pete wasn’t all that bad to have around. “Guess I’ll… see you around, Pete.”
“Yeah.” The blond boy gave a sad sort of half-smile, then bucked himself up and stuck his hand out to Remus. “See ya, Remus.”
He took his hand but was then pulled into a half-hug which was… a bit much, if Remus was being honest, but he decided to let it slide when he saw how choked up the other boy was. Peter let him go, eyes a bit watery, and took a deep breath through his nose to disguise his sniffle. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to get a word out, so he just closed it, gave another close-lipped smile and a half-wave, and walked away.
Remus was terribly fond of him.
Regulus was nervous about coming home. He sat tensely on his horse, trying to prepare himself mentally for every person and situation he would come across.
They would all probably be waiting out front when he arrived; King Charlus liked things to be just so. Perhaps he should tell King Charlus of some of the things he had learned since seeing him last–a progress report of sorts to show he had spent his time wisely and gaining knowledge had really been his only reason for going. He would probably get laughed at, though. Especially by Sirius.
Ugh, Sirius. Regulus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His older brother probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone and would probably make some remark on how small he was (when he wasn’t even that much taller) or do something else belittling like mussing his hair–which Regulus put a great deal of effort into. Not everyone could have as effortlessly perfect hair as Sirius.
Pandora will be there, he reminded himself. Oh, Pandora, he thought fondly. Being without her had been the hardest part of this whole plan. He had tried to convince Charlus to let her go with him, but Charlus refused to let her out of the castle, much less across the kingdom. He hadn’t seen her since his last hols. Being apart from her was like having forgotten something but not remembering what it was you’ve forgotten. It was a constant lostness, a sense of being incomplete. He was happy to be coming home to her.
And James… Well, he had been mentally preparing to see him again nearly the whole trip. He was going to be cool. Calm. Collected. Aloof, even. He would not be flustered, because there was nothing for him to be flustered about. He was fine. James was fine. In more ways than one, his brain piped in unhelpfully. He quickly and quietly took the rogue thought to the back of his head and stifled it. There was no place for stray thoughts at a time like this. He had to be completely in order if he was to stand a chance.
The knot in his stomach tightened, so he focused on breathing deeply and maintaining his cool composure. He would speak only to Pandora. And King Charlus, of course, to be polite. He supposed he would also have to say a word of recognition to his brother–again, to be polite. But that was it. He could do this. He wasn’t the fourteen-year-old boy who had fled to a monastery across the kingdom to avoid his feelings. He had spent the last two years learning to get a handle on this. He was calm. He was cool. He was confident.
He could do this.
James was bored.
Yes, he knew Regulus was coming home, and yes, he would be glad to see him again, but… honestly. How long were they supposed to stand around and wait? The sun was beating down on him, and his ceremonial robes were hot and itchy. He stood as still as he could, trying his best not to fidget or shift his weight, but his hands and feet twitched with the effort. If he didn’t get to move soon, he worried his body would simply burst out of his skin. As of now, his mind was the only part of him that was free, and it kept bouncing between all the people standing with him on the dias.
Sirius was standing to his right and a step behind him, which, honestly, James had tried to change. Given that it was his brother returning home after two years, he had felt it was only right that Sirius should be positioned nearer him, but Uncle Charlus had dismissed the notion. He said that, as James was Crown Prince, he should be in the position of honour at the right hand of the king. James understood the sentiment–and, of course, honoured the King’s wishes–but still felt it to be somewhat unnecessary.
Speaking of unnecessary… A bead of sweat was trickling down the back of his neck and his crown felt heavy and awkward. He could wear a helmet all day and be perfectly content, but apparently he couldn’t stand still with a crown on for half-an-hour. Perhaps because when he was wearing a helmet he was doing something. Not just stuck. Standing. The town crier had already announced Regulus’ return so what was taking so long?!
Pandora was getting restless too. James could see it by the way she twirled her hair and pressed it to her lips in her spot in the shade at the other end of the dias. Uncle Charlus had allowed her to move there; he always let her do what she liked and doted on her tremendously. As did the rest of them. Pandora was adored by all.
Even Minerva–the king’s advisor, with hair tightly pulled back and a tendency to be rather severe–had a tenderness for Pandora and merely said gently, “Milady” by way of a reprimand. Pandora quickly released her fair hair and dropped her hand back to her side, looking quite ashamed. Minerva’s gaze softened further, but then she resumed her posture and air of severity.
Pandora really was quite lovely. She seemed to have been born without much colour, leaving her skin and hair nearly the same pale shade while her eyes were a deep blue. At that moment, she wore a light purple dress with matching ribbons woven into her hair.
Lils–er, Lily, Pandora's maid–was standing behind her. As Minerva looked away, she shifted forward ever so slightly and threaded her fingers through Pandora’s, shifting again so their skirts would keep their hands hidden. The tension bled out of Pandora’s shoulders, and she looked to Lily gratefully.
Good on ya, Lils, James thought warmly.
Sirius leaned closer to him and whispered, “What is taking him so long? Did he decide to take a few laps around the city first? He probably did, the dramatic git.”
James snorted.
Uncle Charlus cleared his throat, and the boys quickly straightened and sobered.
James’ mind was brought back to the reason they were all standing, hot and uncomfortable, in the sun: Regulus. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really seen Regulus in two years. Sure, he had come back for holidays, but James was just realising he had somehow missed seeing him … for every holiday in the last two years? That couldn’t be right. After all, it wasn’t like Regulus had been avoiding him–
Trumpets sounded and–finally–the procession bearing Regulus began coming through the gates, starting with some of the royal guard. Under the cover of the cheers and trumpets, Sirius leaned closer to James again and whispered, “Take a look at Marlene.”
James glanced over at one of the knights standing off to their left near the dias. She had dark circles under her eyes and was clearly having a hard time standing up straight.
“That’ll be the last time she ever challenges me to a drinking contest,” Sirius continued. As he spoke, she swayed a little too far and nearly fell over–earning sniggers from James and Sirius.
“James,”–at the sound of his name, he instantly fixed his posture–“come. Our Regulus has returned home!” the King announced to cheers as he slowly descended the stairs to the courtyard.
James followed with Sirius falling in place a step behind him. He was halfway down the steps when he looked up and found himself slowing to a stop on the final step.
Regulus. James’ eyes–and mind–seemed to get caught on him and couldn’t look away. He looked so… Well, he was taller now, his face more angular. His hair still fell in curls on his forehead and around his ears, but now it looked more purposeful. Teasing, almost. He was standing next to his horse, talking to Uncle Charlus, magnetic grey eyes fixed. He hadn’t looked at James yet.
Pandora’s patience must have run out, because the next thing James knew she was rushing past the king to throw her arms around Regulus and hold him tight. For a brief second Regulus was wide-eyed and tense, but soon enough he melted, holding her as tightly as she held him, the softest smile James had ever seen on his lips.
She pulled away, then leaned in again to whisper something in his ear, her eyes glittering. Regulus shot her a wry look, then turned and–
There. Hello.
Their eyes met, and James felt oddly relieved and terrified at the same time.
“–Yes, of course,” Uncle Charlus was saying, “Come say hello to Prince James.”
Regulus hesitated, looked to Uncle Charlus briefly, changed his mind, and walked forward to the steps. “Prince James,” he said, bowing.
“Oh, please,” James blurted out without thinking. “It’s James, it’s always been James.”
Regulus’ eyes swept up to his and–
James’ brain stopped working. Not that it had ever been much good to him anyway.
“Hey, half-pint,” Sirius said, stepping in front of James and mussing Regulus’ hair. The younger boy tried to duck, but he was too late. His perfect curls were rumpled about and… and somehow more tempting than ever.
Regulus swatted away his brother’s hands, grey eyes glaring daggers, and James felt something warm curl in his chest. That’s the Reg he remembered.
“Come inside,” Uncle Charlus said to Regulus, drawing all their eyes–though James’ were admittedly a bit slow. “Let’s get you settled in.” The King led the way to the great doors and Regulus began following, Pandora fluttering to his side.
James still had that warm feeling twirling around inside him, and–wanting to draw the moment out just a touch longer–he called out, “Reg!”
Regulus froze at the top stair for a half-second. Slowly, he turned back to James, an eyebrow raised, distant and cold as a statue.
James paused for a moment, not having actually planned anything to say. Eventually, he gave the brightest smile he had and said, “I’m glad you’re back.”
He couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly it was, but something about Reg softened. He was sure of it. He could feel it. His chest grew a little warmer, and his smile followed suit.
Reg gave a courteous nod, then hurried the last few steps into the castle which only enforced the notion that Reg had softened a touch for James. He had been sure before, but now he was REALLY sure. The thought made him far too pleased with himself.
He had been a little shocked to see Regulus again looking so… er, yes, but he was sure in no time they’d be back to their old familiarity. He really was very glad Regulus was back.
“Hey.” Sirius was nudging his arm. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he nodded towards an entrance leading outside the courtyard. The message was clear: Let’s get out of here.
James did not need to be asked twice. The two of them slipped away to the passage, then broke into a run, shedding ceremonial robes as they sprinted to glorious freedom.
Remus quickly came to be a firm believer that cities should have their own maps on display all over the place to help hapless travellers who wander into their midsts.
When he reached the castle gates, he was surprised to find the courtyard was bustling with activity. Preparations seemed to be under way for a festival of sorts. Entertainers were practising their crafts. Some servants decorated the courtyard, while others were carrying food or bringing livestock. In all the movement and noise and generally cheery mood, there was one thing that seemed out of place.
In the very centre of the courtyard, there was a slightly raised platform, and there on the platform was a wooden block. Two castle guards stood next to it, talking to each other in hushed tones. Remus had never seen anything like that block before, but something about it felt ominous. He somehow knew it was tied to something dark.
Suddenly, a flurry of whispers swept past him. He barely caught the words ‘the king’ when he noticed a figure coming out of the castle onto a balcony overlooking the courtyard. The man was tall and sturdily built with a square jaw and hair that had once been brown but was now mainly grey. He wore royal robes, gold chains around his shoulders, and a crown upon his head.
King Charlus, Remus supposed. He had always wondered what the man who had ordered the deaths of so many people with magic looked like. Now, he knew.
Beside him was the same boy from earlier who rode by on his horse, a ward of the king. He couldn’t remember his name; it was something that sounded like Ridiculous. There was also a pale, wisp of a girl, who stood in the boy’s shadow. Knights were lined across the back of the balcony.
“My people,” the King began. “It has been 17 years since the capture of the Great Dragon when the war on magic was won. That is why every year, on this day, we celebrate our great Festival.”
Cheers arose from the crowd.
“But today!” The king continued, his voice rising to be heard. “Today, we also celebrate the return of my ward Regulus!”
Regulus, Ridiculous… close enough.
The boy gave a polite wave to the crowd as they cheered, the girl latched to his arm and beaming up at him.
“However!” The crowd hushed as the king’s voice rang out once more. “There are still some who would return us to the old days–the days of fear and chaos.”
The King gestured to the other end of the courtyard, and two guards stepped through a doorway dragging a ragged, thin, wild-eyed man between them. His breathing was quick, his body twisting in their grips. They dragged him to the platform in the centre of the courtyard.
“Let this serve as a warning to all. This man is adjudged guilty of planning to use enchantments and magic, and I, King Charlus Peverell, have decreed that such practises are banned on penalty of death. In accordance with such decrees and pursuant of the laws of Gryffindor, I hereby sentence this man to death.”
The guards forced the man to his knees by the block.
The girl on the balcony gasped, covered her face with her hands, and ran back into the castle. The boy–Regulus–stood still as stone, his hands gripping the parapets so hard his knuckles turned bone-white.
The executioner–who Remus had somehow missed, being so distracted by the man judged guilty–stepped up on the platform, his face covered, axe in hand. He took his position, raised his axe, then looked to the king.
Remus looked again at the man, who hadn’t said a word in protest. He simply lay limp as a rag against the block, his head resting atop it, breathing erratically and making a noise that was somewhere between hysterical laughter and whimpering. His pleading eyes darted over the crowd as if looking for a friend. His eyes caught on Remus’ and Remus was hit with a sudden feeling that he knew.
No. That’s impossible. He can’t know; no one knows, Remus reassured himself, but the feeling remained.
Then the axe dropped.
Remus didn’t realise it was happening until it was too late, and he watched as the head rolled off the block onto the platform. The dead empty eyes seemed to still stare at him, as if sending a message from one dead wizard to the next:
Welcome to Gryffindor.