The Hogwarts Express
Oh, my life is changing everyday
In every possible way
And oh, my dreams
It’s never quite as it seems
Never quite as it seems
‘Dreams’ by the Cranberries
Wednesday 1st September 1971
Remus wants to set this blasted train on fire.
For almost fifteen minutes now, he’s been searching for a compartment to sit in. So far, he’s found nothing. Every single one is full of either large groups of older students, catching up and gossiping after a summer apart, or new first-years, young and unsure, trying to make awkward conversation with people they don’t know. The corridor leading down the train is also packed with people moving between carriages and stopping to talk with friends, making the search for a seat all the more tedious.
Since March, Remus has grown increasingly bitter about this entire situation, and now, after a long car journey, an argument with his father and the full moon fast approaching, Remus has just about had enough. His head is pounding, his ears violently overwhelmed by the racket of the other students, and the jostling off the train is making his already wobbly legs feel particularly unpredictable.
It takes another five minutes until he finds a promising-looking compartment. Huddled in the corner is a small, round-cheeked boy with straw-coloured hair. He looks about Remus’ age and is munching on a Chocolate Frog, staring out the window at the scenery flashing past. Remus pushes the door open with a bit more force than is really necessary. The boy starts so hard he drops the remnants of his Chocolate Frog.
“Sorry,” Remus says bluntly. “Can I sit in here?”
“I—uh—yeah, sure, of course,” the blonde boy stutters.
“Thanks.” Remus hauls his trunk in behind him, slamming the door shut. He knows there’s no way he will be able to get the sodding thing up onto one of the luggage racks without dropping it on his head, so he settles on leaving it on the floor, propping his feet up on top of it as he sits down.
“Um, I’m Peter,” the boy, Peter, introduces himself.
“Remus.”
“Are you a first-year as well?”
Remus nods.
After that, Peter seemingly gives up, fishing out a Liquorice Wand from his pocket and going back to gazing out of the window. Remus sighs, relaxing back into the seat and thinking back to the rather uncomfortable send-off he had been forced to endure on platform nine and three-quarters. His mother had been crying … a lot; his father had just been indifferent, still giving him somewhat of a cold shoulder after their disagreement.
He knows that he’s being selfish, knows that after having to deal with the burden of his condition for the past six and a half years, his parents deserve a break. Logic doesn’t stop his chest from feeling like it’s on the verge of caving in on itself, and it certainly doesn’t stop him from coming to the conclusion that he has never felt so completely and utterly alone.
Outside the train, the landscape gradually shifts, the cramped London skyline giving way to the suburbs and eventually open green fields, and it is only about five minutes or so before the door is flying open again, making quite a loud bang, and two rather dishevelled-looking boys tumbling in, flinging the door shut again. They’ve got their backs to the window, but Remus can hear their heavy breathing, their hearts pounding in their chests, and see their shoulders heaving.
“Did you see their faces?” one of them asks excitedly.
“Bloody brilliant!” the other replies.
The pair of them dissolve into a fit of giggles.
“Um … hello?” Peter interrupts hesitantly.
Both boys startle, twisting around in shock and allowing Remus to actually see what they look like.
One of them is slightly shorter than the other, with bronzed skin and a shock of black hair sticking up every which way—Remus distantly thinks that he looks a little bit like he’s stuck his fingers in a plug socket. He wears a pair of wire-frame glasses over kind hazel eyes, and although Remus doesn’t even know him, he finds himself comparing this stranger to the sun, exuding warmth in a way that draws people in without them even realising it.
If the first boy is the sun, then the second can only be described as a storm, with thundery eyes and all to match. He’s just slightly taller and paler also, his skin the colour of porcelain, with his hair hanging in waves down to his shoulders, inky as anything and framing an aristocratic face.
The bespectacled boy breaks into a broad grin. “Hi!” he says. “Sorry to come crashing in like that. We didn’t really look to see if anyone was in here—would have knocked otherwise.”
“It’s fine …”
Remus remains quiet in the corner, pressed against the window and eyeing the two newcomers appraisingly. The stormy boy catches him looking and meets his eyes unshrinkingly, raising one haughty eyebrow. Remus looks away, brows furrowing.
“Are you both first-years as well?” asks the messy-haired boy.
Both Remus and Peter nod in confirmation.
“So are we,” he states, still smiling. “I’m James Potter.”
“Sirius,” the second boy adds, speaking up for the first time.
“Huh?” Peter frowns. “About what?”
“No, Sirius—that’s my name. Like the star. It’s the brightest one in the sky, you know?” He smirks.
Of course it is, Remus thinks as Peter introduces himself to them. They both speak in the same upper-class, southern sort of way, every letter clearly articulated, and Remus begins to feel an instant dislike forming, heavy like a stone in the pit of his stomach. He’s acutely aware of his own voice, the Welsh accent lilting the words, and his clothes, faded and soft from use.
“And you?” James turns to him.
“Remus Lupin,” he replies shortly.
“Do you have a twin called Romulus?” the boy named Sirius asks slyly, the beginnings of a grin on his lips.
“Why would I have a twin called Romulus?” Remus’ forehead scrunches in confusion.
Sirius beams.
James is oblivious to his friend’s teasing, continuing on. “Nice to meet you, Remus.” Does this boy ever stop smiling? “Mind if we join you guys in here? We sort of ran into a bit of trouble a couple carriages along.”
Peter nods, and Remus simply shrugs, honestly having no idea what sort of ‘trouble’ a couple of first-years could possibly get into within half an hour of being on the Hogwarts Express.
“Thanks,” says Sirius happily, plonking himself down on the bench beside Remus as James takes the space opposite, next to Peter.
✶ ✶ ✶
Remus doesn’t particularly talk much once the two boys have settled themselves in the compartment, but James and Sirius have no trouble at all filling the silence, and Peter chips in every now and again, though he mostly just listens to the animated back and forth between them.
As of this moment, Potter and Black are busy recounting the events that led to their dramatic entrance: they apparently hurled a Dungbomb into a compartment full of older Slytherin students and subsequently had to make a mad dash through the train to avoid getting caught.
“And it went off right in his face!” Sirius says, eyes alight with a sadistic brand of mischief.
“He looked like he was going to chuck up,” James throws in.
Peter appears nonplussed. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Nah. I don’t think they really saw our faces properly. Too busy gagging,” Sirius answers. “I just feel bad that my only decent cousin was in there with the rest of them.”
“You’ve got a cousin in Slytherin?”
“My entire family’s been in Slytherin.” Sirius’ face goes carefully blank, his voice devoid of emotion, but Remus can see a muscle ticking in his jaw and his clenched fist on the seat between them.
“Really? My family’s got a bit of a tradition like that. Most of us Potters end up in Gryffindor. But Mum and Dad won’t mind what house I get sorted into.” The muscle in Sirius’ jaw ticks again. “I think Mum is more concerned about me behaving myself.”
“Wish I could say the same about my family.”
James looks thoughtful for a moment, before saying, “What did you say your surname is?”
Sirius hesitates before giving his response. “Black.”
“Oh.” James’ eyebrows climb his forehead, disappearing under tufts of dark hair that have flopped forwards.
Remus recognises the surname. His dad has mentioned them on a rare few occasions—mostly when he’s talked about work, always with a few choice words—but he doesn’t truly know anything about them, not like James seems to.
“What?” Sirius snaps, scowling deeply.
“Nothing!” Guilt is written all across James’ face.
“You recognise it.”
Peter’s eyes are flitting between them like he’s watching a tennis match.
“Maybe,” he admits sheepishly. “My parents both do work for the Ministry.”
“I know. I’ve heard my mother and father talking about yours.”
“Right.” James rakes a hand through his hair before continuing. “I didn’t mean to come across as judgemental.”
“It’s fine. It’s not exactly like I’ve heard the most positive things about your family either.”
“My family is marvellous, thank you very much!” he sniffs, turning his nose up in false indignation.
Sirius laughs, and it is with that that the duo resumes their previous banter, allowing Remus to zone out, too tired to keep up with the rambunctious exchange. He quickly begins to doze off, only coming to when he feels someone prodding at his knee.
“Remus?”
He opens one eye, peeking up at James.
“What?” he mumbles.
“I was asking what house you reckon you’ll be in?”
“Dunno,” admits Remus. “Haven’t given it much thought. I think my dad was a Ravenclaw.” Even now, after Lyall has told him all about the Sorting Ceremony, he can’t quite wrap his head around how a hat can read your mind and place you in the correct house.
“What about your mother?” Sirius asks. “What house was she in?”
Remus picks restlessly at a scab on his knuckles. “My mam didn’t go to Hogwarts. She’s a Muggle.”
“Ah,” James nods his head in understanding. Sirius just studies him curiously, making Remus shift in discomfort as his eyes find their way down to his hands and the scar that stretches across his left one. It spans from between his index and thumb to the place where his wrist bone juts out, pulling at and marring the once smooth skin—one of the many unfortunate results of his monthly wolfish frenzies. He glowers, yanking the sleeve of his jumper down and turning towards the window instead.
✶ ✶ ✶
At some point during the journey Remus falls asleep, legs tucked up on his trunk and temple pressed against the cool glass, and when he wakes up, it’s only because James is vigorously shaking his shoulder.
“Ughhh, sod off,” he grumbles, slouching down further on the compartment bench and squeezing his eyes shut. He hears someone that he thinks must be Sirius snort.
“Remus, we’re nearly there. You need to get up and put your robes on,” he says gently, paying no heed to the smaller boy’s ill manners.
Remus groans groggily, his eyes opening with a great amount of effort, crusted with sleep dust, and stretches his limbs out before him, listening to the satisfying popping of his joints. Sirius and Peter are stood by the door, already dressed in their school robes, and outside the window, the sky is dark and clear, adorned with an abundance of stars. He unfolds himself from his comfortable position on the bench, before dropping to the floor and facing the challenge of extracting his robes from his trunk.
By the time he’s pulled the black garment on over his Muggle clothes, the train has fully stopped, and he can hear the hubbub of doors opening and people stepping out onto the Hogsmeade platform.
“What do we do with our luggage?”
“Just leave it here,” James responds as he straightens his own clothing. “It will get brought up to the castle.”
He stands up, and Peter pulls open the compartment door. Outside, the platform is swarming with students, all of them moving in one direction, nearly sweeping the four boys away with them.
It’s grown a lot windier since the Hogwarts Express left King’s Cross, and the trees surrounding Hogsmeade Station are being clobbered by the strong breeze, their branches bowing with the force of it. The moon hangs low in the sky, not far off being full, casting its ghostly pale light over them. Remus shivers. His father never has been able to explain to him how the lycanthropy knows the difference between a full and an almost-full moon.
“Firs’-years over here! All firs’-years over here please” an unbelievably burly man calls out over the sea of students, located a bit further up the platform.
“Come on, let’s go.” James grasps hold of the sleeves of Sirius and Peter’s robes in one hand and Remus’ in the other, so as to not lose them in the chaos, and makes a beeline for the man.
They eventually make it over to him, and Remus can’t help but be amazed by the sheer size of him. He towers over the first-years gathered around him, standing at what must be over eight feet tall. He has thick bushy hair and an equally bushy beard which hides a good portion of his face. There’s a clipboard in his hand, and he’s ticking off names as more eleven-year-olds join the group.
“All righ’, then, that’s everyone,” the bear-sized man starts, putting his clipboard away after ticking off the last name. “My name’s Rubeus Hagrid. I am the Keeper of Keys an’ Grounds at Hogwarts, and I will be accompanyin’ you to the castle. We’ve got about a ten-minute walk ahead of us, so we better get goin’. Stick close, and don’t go wanderin’ off.”
Following this introduction, Hagrid leads them away, out of the train station and onto a dark, narrow path that veers downwards. Trees loom overhead and form a sort of tunnel, blocking out much of the sky and the light that the constellations provide them with. Aside from a few hushed whispers, nobody really talks, and after the promised ten minutes of trudging down the dirt track, they emerge on the shore of a vast lake. On the other side, silhouetted against the sky, is Hogwarts Castle, windows illuminated and towers reaching for the heavens. Several of the first-years let out small noises of awe.
Remus had been amazed at the sight of platform nine and three-quarters, but this is something entirely different, and he’s not quite sure what word to use to describe how he feels now. Gobsmacked perhaps? Remus’ gob is definitely smacked.
Where he grew up—a small village in Wales named Tintern—there are the ruins of an abbey that was built over eight hundred years ago. His dad used to tell him stories about Hogwarts, and although he promptly stopped after the attack, realising his son would likely never get the chance to attend the school, Remus would still play among the ancient remains, pretending he was a student and wondering if it actually looked anything like the real place.
Nothing could have truly prepared him for what it is like, seeing the castle for the first time, with its turrets and and surrounding mountains, and he finds himself breathless, like all the air has been stolen from his lungs.
There are boats close to the water’s edge, swaying gently on the lake’s surface, and Hagrid instructs them to climb aboard, four to a boat. Remus, James, Sirius and Peter all clamber in together, and once everyone has found a place, Hagrid claiming the front one for himself, he calls the command ‘FORWARDS!’ and the boats jolt into motion, drifting across the lake in the direction Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.