Year One: A Tale of Ties

Remus skipped down the marble staircase to breakfast the following day. He’d woken earlier than the other boys and snuck out as they started turning in their beds. After going down the wrong corridor, having to turn around and losing about ten minutes, Remus was glad to see the only familiar room in the castle. The doors to the Great Hall stood wide open, and the smells streaming out were heavenly.

Remus settled himself at the Gryffindor table, which was already loaded with toast, porridge, jugs of orange juice, beans, sausages, bacon and eggs, boiled and fried. Remus filled his plate and dug in. He was already on his second helping when James and Sirius strode into the hall, followed by a heaving Peter.

“Where’d you go so early, Lupin?” James asked.

Remus shrugged. “I was hungry,” he mumbled, chewing a bite of toast.

“Just left us. You missed the prefect’s speech,” James said. “And we got lost three times. Isn’t that right, Sirius?”

Sirius sat opposite Remus and didn’t respond. He stared at his plate until James snapped his fingers in front of his face and said, “Oi, stop moping.”

Sirius glared and threw a look at Peter. “Someone insisted on taking the wrong set of stairs.”

The Great Hall was filling up with students, and the chatter grew louder. Remus shook his head. In the days leading up to the moon, he always got squeamish. Just then, the post arrived. Remus watched about a hundred owls stream into the Great Hall, circling the tables until they saw their owners and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Remus’s mouth dropped open.

“Your first time seeing owls?” Sirius asked, bemused.

Remus met his gaze, embarrassment staining his cheeks. “We don’t have one at home. My dad sometimes sends letters with one, but—”

“Why don’t you have an owl?” Peter asked.

Remus shrunk in his seat, his heart fluttering, trying to find a response, when a brown owl dropped a scroll in his lap. James skillfully caught a parcel before it smashed his plate.

Remus used the opportunity to read the note.

Mr Lupin,

I feel it is best we meet as soon as possible to discuss the details agreed upon during the summer. If you would be so kind as to hang back after your transfiguration class this afternoon. It won’t take longer than fifteen minutes.

Professor M. McGonagall

Remus stuffed the parchment into his pocket. He scooped a third helping of eggs onto his plate. He’d never eaten this much before. Chewing, Remus watched the older students at the table. He recognised Fabian a few people down, chatting with what Remus assumed was his brother. They looked exactly the same. The only thing distinguishing them was Fabian’s prefect badge.

Professor McGonagall was now walking past the bench, a stack of papers floating after her, distributing themselves. When she reached Remus, she stopped, looking him over. “Your uniform isn’t up to standards, Mr Lupin,” she said, her eyes cold behind square glasses. “Where is your tie? It needs fixing before class starts.”

She moved on, and Remus snatched the piece of parchment that had taken to tickling his cheek. It crumpled in his hand as Remus tried to ignore the giggles from his classmates.

“What a shame. Almost got away with it,” Sirius remarked, smirking.

Remus seethed. “I didn’t know about the stupid tie,” he said, rising from the table.

“I’ll join you,” James said quickly and nudged his elbow. Remus wasn’t in the mood for company. The looming full moon made him irritable, but he didn’t know how to say he’d rather be alone.

“Slow down,” James yelled, hurrying after Remus.

Remus was out of breath after the second flight of stairs, but when he looked at James, he didn’t want to show weakness and sped up.

“Lupin,” he called. “Blimey, you are fast.”

Remus stood coughing on the third-floor landing. The burning in his lungs felt good, although he winced, thinking that soon it’d be because of something else. Remus waited, albeit reluctantly.

“Don’t mind Sirius,” James said, continuing up the stairs.

Remus didn’t answer. He hadn’t been with other people since his family moved to a small village in Wales last year, and even before that, he’d had a hard time fitting in. “I’m not,” Remus said, waiting for the stairs to swing over to the landing they stood on.

“You’re a half-blood, right?” James asked.

Remus climbed the stairs two steps at a time. “I s’pose.”

“Have you ever heard about the Black family?”

“No,” Remus mumbled, pushing a tapestry out of the way.

“Well, they’re big on blood purity and all that.”

“What’s that?”

James smiled at having finally caught Remus’s attention. “I thought you were a half-blood?”

“My dad’s not home often,” Remus said.

“They don’t like Muggle-borns,” James said, staring past Remus. “Only purebloods are real wizards to them.”

“So he hates me,” Remus concluded. He’d expected that for being a mindless beast, but not for who his parents were.

“No, no, I won’t let him,” James said quickly. “We’re all the same. We’re Gryffindors.”

Remus said nothing to that. They quietly made their way down the corridor, and Remus said, “Noology,” before the fat lady could ask.

“Did we seriously not get lost once?” James asked, climbing through the portrait hole after Remus.

“I don’t like getting lost,” Remus shrugged.

They climbed the circular stairs to their dormitory. Remus looked over James’s uniform, slouched over to his chest of drawers, and rummaged through a huddle of fabric. Remus plopped on his bed, untangling the ties that had changed colour overnight. James shuffled about on his side of the room. Remus held his tie clumsily, trying to fathom how he was supposed to make it look nice.

“Do you need help?” James asked.

Remus blushed. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Give it here.”

James had his hand outstretched. Reluctantly, Remus handed it over. In a matter of seconds, James had the tie securely knotted around his neck, promptly removed and handed it back to Remus.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Don’t mention it.”

Remus fumbled with his tie, acutely aware of the grey blazer scratching his neck. “What’d we do now?”

“Classes, obviously,” James said, pulling a piece of paper from his pockets. “First thing’s charms today,” he said. “Then history and transfiguration after lunch.”

Remus crammed for his own schedule. It was crumpled, and he hadn’t bothered to look at it yet.

“We should take our books,” Remus said, studying the parchment.

“We can take Sirius’s as well,” James added.

“And Peter’s,” Remus added.

The pair hurried out of Gryffindor Tower, each with a stack of books in their arms, clutching two quills and their schedule, inkpots clattering in their pockets. They caught a seething Sirius with Peter in tow on the first-floor staircase, relieved they could hand over the books. Remus wondered how they were supposed to figure out how to get to their classrooms.

“Coming?” James asked, already descending.

“How do you know where the class is?” Remus asked.

“By the astronomy tower,” Sirius said. “Prefect’s told us.”

They set off toward the north part of the castle, the rising sun shining through the windows behind them. James pushed open a door when a pearly white man glided out of the wall. Peter gave a shriek, and Remus nearly dropped his books.

“Ahh, first-years, are you?” the ghost asked. “And Gryffindors, too. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower,” he said.

“James Potter,” James announced. “You couldn’t point us to the charms classroom, could you?” he asked.

“But of course,” Sir Nicholas said. “Straight down that corridor, to the right and up the stairs. Careful on the seventh step,” he said, waved and floated away.

Peter whimpered, and Sirius, who’d been leaning against the wall, rolled his eyes. “We better hurry,” Remus muttered. Most of the students that had occupied the halls so far had disappeared into the various classrooms. Remus supposed they were cutting it close.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. Remus strained excitedly, but the lesson turned out to be fairly dull. Instead of learning spells, they spent most of the morning copying text and diagrams from a large blackboard behind Flitwick’s desk. At least the chalk was moving on its own, which Remus found fascinating and made up for much of the relatively dry theory Flitwick jumbled down.

The Gryffindor students hurried down to the first floor, getting lost and having to turn around. When they reached the History of Magic classroom, the teacher was already droning on about Emeric the Evil and Uric, the Oddball. The Slytherins with which they shared this class snickered as the Gryffindors shuffled through the rows and took their seats. Remus was surprised to learn that a ghost taught the class.

Most of the morning, Remus spent, his knee bouncing beneath the desk, trying to keep up with Professor Binns’ ramblings, ignoring the low chuckles and murmurs from all sides. Few students could be bothered to pay attention. Instead, they passed around intricately folded paper figures of tiny dragons.

When the bell rang, the professor simply floated through the blackboard, much to the shock of Lily Evans, who’d hurried to the front, clutching her roll of parchment. Sirius snickered.

Transfiguration was again different, and Remus gathered the distinct impression that Professor McGonagall wasn’t a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn’t wait to start, but soon realised they wouldn’t be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of detailed notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

By the end of the lesson, only Sirius had made any difference to his match—Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver.

The students darted out of the classroom, excited to enjoy the warm September afternoon. Remus hung back, dutifully straightening his chair.

McGonagall sat behind her immaculately tidy desk. She smiled thinly and motioned for Remus to sit in the first row. She pushed her square glasses up the bridge of her nose, straightening a roll of parchment.

“I thought it best to speak with you as soon as possible about your condition,” she said. “I’m sure the prefects have informed you I’m the head of Gryffindor house.”

Remus didn’t say anything.

“I must let you know that people with your particular problem face a severe stigma. Do you know what that means?”

Remus nodded. His parents had repeated often enough what would happen if anyone found out.

“I want you to know that as long as you are in my house, I will not tolerate anyone treating you differently or unkindly.” She cleared her throat. “It may be wise to exercise caution.”

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone,” Remus said.

Professor McGonagall nodded. “The next full moon is on Sunday. Professor Dumbledore has made some arrangements. You will be perfectly safe.”

Remus couldn’t stop himself. “What about the others?”

“Others?”

“The other students? Teachers? I can’t be near anyone.”

“Don’t you worry about that. No one will be able to get near you while you’re transformed. That brings me to another question—there isn’t much research about lycanthropy. Do you suffer any side effects before the moon rises?”

Remus shook his head. He’d never noticed that he was dangerous before nightfall, and McGonagall surely wouldn’t care about minor aches.

“If you could report to me after dinner, I will show you where to go. One of the prefects will take you to my office.”

Remus nodded. “Will I be able to go to class on Monday?”

“That will be up to your condition and at Madam Pomfrey’s discretion.”

“Won’t the others notice if I go missing once a month?”

“Certainly. Just like it will arouse suspicion if you aren’t in your dormitory. Perhaps you could tell your friends you’re visiting someone at home?”

Remus shrugged, wondering how long he could keep this up. Perhaps if he just stayed away from everyone, they’d pay no attention if he disappeared from time to time.