Year One: Dorm Mates

They clambered out of the boats at the bottom of the cliff on which Hogwarts sat. James and Sirius excitedly hurried after the gamekeeper, Hagrid. Remus hung back and climbed the stairs with Peter, who was noticeably struggling.

The large castle doors were already open when they reached the top, and the steady stream of pupils was led through a large entrance hall into a side chamber. Remus and Peter crowded in with the rest of the first-years. It was hot and dark, the room lit by torches on the wall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” a tall, black-haired witch in emerald robes said. “I am Professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress.

“The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is an important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend your free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. While at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points; any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school.” She drew a long breath and looked around the room. “I shall return when we are ready for you,” Professor McGonagall said. “Please wait quietly.”

A low hum of excited voices filled the room. Remus shifted his weight. Peter, next to him, was shaking. Remus very pointedly did not look in his direction. He had a bad enough time dealing with the knot that formed in his stomach. Remus studied the high walls adorned with tapestries. A suit of armour guarded a door leading off toward the back. Remus wiped his hands on his cloak, straightening his collar. Static of voices, breathing and heartbeats buzzed in Remus’s ears. He could practically smell the anxiety, like acid streaming around the room.

Remus heard the door click, and the volume of voices suddenly increased. “You will exit the chamber in a neat line.” Professor McGonagall had returned, holding a scroll of parchment. “Follow me.”

Excited shoving ensued, and soon Remus followed a tall boy with brown hair into the Great Hall. They passed through a corridor between four long tables occupied by the older students. The space was lit by thousands of candles floating in mid-air and the procession halted in front of a fifth table where the teachers were seated.

The first-years huddled together, facing the rest of the student body. Remus quietly manoeuvred his way back into the second row. He didn’t need to attract unnecessary attention.

The hall fell into complete silence when Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched, frayed and extremely dirty.

Remus looked around, finally glancing up for the first time. He saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Remus flinched. Someone had started to sing. Confused, Remus turned his head until he saw in the space between two heads in the first row that it was the hat. Remus stood enchanted, and the hall broke into roaring applause when the hat had finished its song.

Professor McGonagall opened the scroll and said, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Arnold, Robyn!”

A black-haired girl pushed through the lines and stumbled to the stool. The hat fell over her eyes, and a moment later, it shouted, “Ravenclaw!”

Remus looked at his scuffed shoes, then took to studying the ceiling with more attention to detail. It was magnificent, sparkling stars strewn over the black canvas. Stray clouds floated around the edges, and Remus found it hard to believe that there was a solid roof over that, even though there had been one when they’d looked up to the castle from the lake.

Remus’s head snapped down when the deputy headmistress called, “Black, Sirius!”

Sirius strode forward, head held high, but before sitting on the stool, he cast a glance over his shoulder. Remus noticed James was a mere two people to the right of him and quietly pushed his way over. He felt terrible about abandoning Peter, but they would be called by order of their last name, anyway. Unsure about the course of action, Remus lightly tapped James’s shoulder. James turned and smiled when he recognised Remus.

Professor McGonagall placed the hat on Sirius’s head, and it was utterly silent for a moment. But the hat didn’t shout a house right away. Remus had a better line of sight and saw how Sirius gripped the wood—his knuckles turned white.

“Gryffindor,” the hat shouted finally.

There was a moment of stunned silence before the clapping came this time. McGonagall lifted the hat from Sirius’s head and gave him a small smile. Sirius stared at the Slytherin table, slowly turning away and walking over to the Gryffindors.

James looked at Remus. He seemed astounded, and, after a moment, delighted. Now that the pattern was clear, the kids whose names began with a ‘B’ or ‘C’ shuffled to the front. Slowly but surely, Remus’s sorting drew nearer. Remus’s stomach fluttered, and he straightened his tie for the seventh time as McGonagall called, “Leek, Hugo,” who was promptly sorted into Gryffindor. Remus tasted the faint remnants of the pumpkin pasties Sirius had shared with him on the train when, “Lunsford, Pug,” was called and sorted into Hufflepuff. What if the hat knew what he was and wouldn’t put him anywhere? Everyone would know, but Remus didn’t have time to worry.

“Lupin, Remus,” McGonagall called. Remus was rooted to the spot. A soft nudging from James pulled him out of his trance. Remus shuffled to the stool. The last thing Remus saw before the hat sunk over his eyes were the expectant faces in the hall.

“Hmm,” a small voice said in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult.”

“Why?” Remus wondered, panic clawing at his throat. What if the whole hall could hear?

The voice simply continued, “Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes—so where shall I put you?”

Remus simply thought, “Gryffindor would be nice.”

“Are you sure?” the small voice said. “Well, if you are—better be GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat shouted the last word out into the hall, and Remus ripped the hat from his head, placing it on the stool, before walking over to the table under the red and golden banners.

Lily had also been sorted into Gryffindor. She sat next to Sirius and did not look at him, apparently still mad about the scene on the train. However, she smiled brightly at Remus when he sat opposite her.

Sirius dejectedly stared past Remus and only offered a half smile when Remus tried to congratulate him.

By the time the ‘P’s’ came around, Sirius had dropped his head onto his folded arms. Remus’s stomach grumbled loudly. He watched little Peter hurry towards the sorting hat.

Peter sat on the stool longer than any of the others. Slowly, a low murmur filled the hall, and even the teachers seemed to get nervous as the minutes ticked by. After more than five minutes, he was sorted into Gryffindor. So was James, albeit more quickly, and he strode over to the table with a massive grin on his face, catching up with Peter, who was squeezing himself next to Remus.

Lily looked straight ahead, her lips pressed since she was now crammed between Sirius and James.

“We all made it,” James said, bouncing in his spot. Sirius groaned, his head still in his arms on the table.

“What?” Peter squeaked. Sirius just shook his head. “I can’t believe it,” Peter muttered, eyes wide.

Luckily for Remus, the sorting was almost over. His stomach contracted painfully. He looked at the empty golden plate before him.

McGonagall called out, “Young, Robert,” who was sorted into Hufflepuff and then rolled up the parchment, which was hanging past her knees.

Professor Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms wide open. The chatter instantaneously stopped. “Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!”

He sat back down, and the dishes in front of Remus were piled with food. Golden roasted chickens, roast beef, pork chops and lamb chops, piles of crispy roast potatoes, boiled potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, plates of steaming carrots, peas swimming in butter, an enormous jug of rich dark gravy, and for some reason Sherbet lemons.

When they’d all eaten as much as they could, the main course vanished, and the puddings appeared in their place. Round-bellied as they were, they still helped themselves to treacle tarts and ice cream.

“Ahem.” Dumbledore stood again. “Now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, a very generous former pupil has gifted a rare Whomping Willow to Professor Sprout. Everyone who does not wish to die an excruciating death is cautioned not to approach the tree. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

James laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

“He can’t be serious?” Lily muttered.

“He is. They are very dangerous,” an older girl sitting to Sirius’s left said.

“First-years, collect yourselves here,” a boy’s voice called from further down the table. “I’m Fabian Prewett. This is Randal Weasley,” he pointed to a tall redhead beside him. “I’m Brenda,” the girl that had answered Lily said. “And I’m Cath,” a girl with ochre skin said, “We’re the Gryffindor House Prefects.”

The Gryffindor first-years followed the four Prefects through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. The people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed. He made a mental note of the size and shape of every door they entered, each painting they encountered, and which staircases moved.

Twice, they passed through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, when they came to a sudden halt.

A portrait of an obese woman in a pink dress hung at the end of a corridor. “Password?” she said.

“Noology,” Brenda said, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall. They scrambled through it—Peter needed a leg up—and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a warm, cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

The prefects led them up a staircase to a balcony overlooking the common room. The girls followed Cath in one direction while Fabian showed the boys up a spiral staircase, past the first landing onto the second. There, they found three doors with wooden signs with a big number one.

“All right, here we are,” Randal said. “These will be your dormitories for the following seven years. Your things have been brought up for you.”

Remus looked around. James and Sirius stood shoulder to shoulder. Peter was nervously pulling at his tie. They all stood there, a bit perplexed. Remus hadn’t expected that he’d have to share at all. In fact, he hadn’t given his sleeping arrangements any thought.

“Are there any problems?” Fabian asked. “We’ll be downstairs. Randal right below the landing, and me another floor below him.”

The two prefects left them to sort out the rooms. There was a moment of quiet before they dashed for the doors.

Remus, standing right in front of one door, simply turned and pushed it open. He stopped on the threshold. Five large four-post beds with thick crimson curtains were evenly spaced out in the circular rooms.

“Those aren’t my things,” a boy called from the room next door. “Anyone know who the tiny box belongs to? It’s got a belt around it,” another called from the room the farthest on the left. Remus went pink.

Someone nudged Remus. “Mate, you’re blocking the entrance.”

A blond boy was staring down at him. “Sorry,” Remus muttered, “My things aren’t there, anyway.”

He followed the voices to the last dormitory on the left, assuming he was the only one whose suitcase was held together by a belt. To Remus’s great surprise, there were only four beds in this one. James already lounged on one, and Sirius was stroking the crimson curtain, his head hanging. Remus recognised his suitcase at once. While the other boys’ heavy trunk seemed to double as a bench at the feet of their bed, Remus’s suitcase was neatly propped up against the mahogany frame. Next to it, his rucksack had folded in on itself.

The fourth bed beside the door was still empty, but Remus immediately recognised the trunk. It was Peter’s. Remus lifted his case and deposited it on his bed. He loosened the belts, and as expected, the case snapped open. Remus had barely enough time to pull his hand out of the way. The majority of his clothes, however, were blown out and strewn across the room.

Remus cringed, and his face turned pink. Sirius hurried over, his eyes wide. Remus hastily peeled his underwear off his shoulder and shoved as many clothes back into the case as he could.

“Is that an enchanted trunk?” Sirius asked. James poked his head past the curtains, too, now interested.

“No,” Remus mumbled. His cheeks were hot.

“I’ve heard of self-unpacking trunks, but I’ve never seen one,” Sirius said.

“It’s not. My case is just old and kind of broken,” Remus said, his voice quiet.

Sirius looked like he was about to say something else when Peter shuffled into the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw the three boys standing by Remus’s bed. “I can’t believe I’m in Gryffindor,” he said.

Remus saw Sirius roll his eyes, but James grinned widely. “It’s the best, right?”

Remus looked around and seized the opportunity to put away his clothes with little fuss. A chest of drawers stood by the wall to the right of Remus’s bed, so he figured it was his. Sirius seemed to have one, too. He pulled open the middle drawer and stuffed his clothes in at random. He stacked the books on top of the dresser. The potions ingredients, rolls of parchment, and loose items he’d brought, Remus dumped into the top drawer. The two inkpots clattered when he slammed the drawer shut. The cauldron hadn’t fit, so Remus left it next to the chest.

Sirius had reclined on his bed, and Peter was sitting on James’s trunk, listening to him blab about his broom back home. Remus collected his pyjamas and disappeared into the small adjoining bathroom to change. He was conscious of the scars that adorned his back and most other parts of his body, a silver net of lines on pale skin.

When Remus emerged, James was topless, just about to pull a t-shirt over his head. Peter was already tucked in, and Sirius’s curtains were drawn. Remus looked at them, puzzled, but James said, “Don’t mind him. He’ll calm down.”

Remus pulled back his comforter, climbing into the massive four-poster.

“My parents are going to kill me,” Sirius groaned, sliding his curtains open. He, too, was in his pyjamas now—emerald green, contrasting the crimson curtains. His hair fell in his eyes.

“Why?” Remus asked.

“I was supposed to be a Slytherin,” he said, staring into space.

“But you’re not,” James said, coming closer. “Isn’t that amazing? I dunno what I would’ve done if I were one. Didn’t you want to end up there?”

“No,” Sirius picked at his blanket. “But still. It won’t blow over. I’m the only one.” Sirius turned his head and met Remus’s eyes. Remus looked away, conscious he’d been caught staring. “You lot don’t understand,” Sirius mumbled, his focus back on his blanket.

The image of the tall woman flashed before Remus’s eyes. She’d looked unpleasant. Remus reclined, trying to ignore the hammering heartbeat and Peter’s low murmur.