Sirius
We form a rather straggling line in the Great Hall. As the Sorting Hat sings its song, I look around me at the various house tables, and see my cousin Narcissa at the Slytherin table. She is looking adoringly at Lucius Malfoy, her fellow Prefect. I grimace. Bad taste, Narcissa.
The witch in emerald robes, who has introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, is now unfurling a long scroll. She looks up and says, "Now when I call your name, you shall come up front and put on the Sorting Hat."
I feel nervous as I stare at the Hat, who is now silent. My parents have told me loads of times that all the Blacks have been in Slytherin, and that I mustn't break this tradition. But I want to. I want to end up in any house other than Slytherin. Preferably Gryffindor, because of its famed rivalry with Slytherin. I don�t want to end up sitting at the Slytherin table with Narcissa. The idea is just too appalling.
"Anderson, Patrick!" Professor McGonagall calls. A boy at the back staggers past us, white and shaking. He puts on the hat and sits on the stool, and after a while, the Sorting Hat proclaims him a Ravenclaw. Beaming, he takes off the Hat and runs to the wildly cheering Ravenclaw table.
"Arching, Eliza!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Black, Sirius!"
I can't move. James, who's behind me, gives me a gentle push, saying, "Good luck, mate," and I stumble forward, past the other first years, past Professor McGonagall, grab the Hat, and sit down on the stool, before placing the Hat on my head. The brim drops down to my nose, and all I see is blackness.
"A Black, now, aren't you?" the Hat says. Its voice seems to be in my head. "Quite the rebel, I see. You've got a brilliant mind, no doubt!"
I smile inwardly. Being sorted into Ravenclaw isn't as good as being sorted into Gryffindor, but it will ruffle my parents' feathers for sure.
"Plenty of courage, too. You're fiercely loyal to those who matter to you... Rather die than betray them, yes? Well, then, better be GRYFFINDOR!"
I feel as though Christmas had come early. Wrenching the Hat off my head, I get up from the stool and walk to the Gryffindor table. There is no cheering; everyone is scrutinising me and there is a great deal of whispering, most of which are along the lines of, "A Black! In Gryffindor!" Narcissa looks at me in disgust. James, Remus and Dumbledore are one of the few who are clapping and (in James' case) whooping. I grin widely at James and Remus, and they give me thumbs-up.
As I sit down at the Gryffindor table, my new housemates give me a wide berth. I raise my eyebrows at them, and say, "You know, I may be named after the Dog Star, but I don't bite." It is one of the most cringe-inducing things I have come up with in my entire life, but in my euphoric state, it is the best I can do. However, it seems to break the tension; the people around me laugh, and start congratulating me.
I keep fidgeting in happiness, and it is a while before I can properly concentrate on the Sorting. When I have at last settled down somewhat, the person being sorted is the red-haired girl ("Evans, Lily") who was in the same compartment as us earlier on. She is almost instantaneously sorted into Gryffindor. She looks regretfully at her greasy-haired companion, who James has so wittily dubbed 'Snivellus,' before joining me at the Gryffindor table. I make space for her, but she recognises me, and refuses to look in my direction.
When it is Remus' turn to be sorted, the Hat takes a very long time to decide which house he should be in. But at last, he too is sorted into Gryffindor, to my delight. I clap exceptionally hard for him as he, blushing furiously and grinning delightedly, walks towards us, and I ruffle his hair as he sits between Evans and me. I've initially thought him to be a nancy boy, but after he'd defended Hagrid, I've changed my mind. Kelvin Macby, the boy who was with us on the train, is sorted into Ravenclaw.
So now the only person I know personally who has yet to be sorted is James. He hardly looks worried at all; in fact, he's jabbering away to the girl whom he'd introduced to me as Gemma, his best friend, at the Malfoys', and occasionally grinning at Remus and me.
"How does he manage to keep his cool?" Remus whispers to me, as 'Pettigrew, Peter!' is sorted into Gryffindor.
"Dunno," I say, shrugging. "He knows that he's definitely going to be sorted into Gryffindor, I guess. Look, it's his turn now!"
James is almost strolling to the stool. He serenely puts the Hat on his messy black hair. Of all the first-years I've seen, he is definitely the calmest.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat yells, and I hear some grumbling from Lily Evans.
Remus and I are, on the other hand, wild with ecstasy as we both clap James on the back and mess up his hair even more than it already is. For all his composure earlier on, James is now whooping as loudly as some of the other Gryffindors.
When Snivellus is called up, James nudges me. He is sorted into Slytherin, as he very much wanted to. "That's where he belongs, anyway," James says, grinning. He seems to be in a hyperactive mood. "What a slimy git."
And when "Spinnet, Gemma!" is sorted into Gryffindor, James cheers excitedly. I remember that Gemma is his best friend. He whacks her arm as she joins our table, sitting between him and Evans. I hear Evans say in a put-out voice, "He's your friend?" James smirks at Evans, probably just to infuriate her. I crack a grin.
When the Sorting ends at last, Dumbledore stands up. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," he says, beaming at all of us. "Now, I know your stomachs are probably painfully empty, so... bon appetit!"
The plates fill with food, and we tuck in eagerly. The food is delicious, better than anything Kreacher has ever cooked. We wolf down our food, chatting merrily about anything that comes to mind; lessons, teachers. It seems like a relatively short time when the plates clear by themselves and Dumbledore stands up to speak again.
"I presume that your stomachs are well fed, so I shall make a few short announcements before I send you all up to bed. First of all, our caretaker Mr Apollyon Pringle would like to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds. Secondly, a few of you might have noticed that there has been a Whomping Willow, newly planted, on the school grounds. Now, the Willow is quite violent; it has a - ah, tendency, shall we say, to grievously injure anyone who approaches it. So, if you value your intact body, kindly stay away from it."
"Sounds exciting," James hisses over to Remus and me. "We should try going near it some day."
Remus squirms uncomfortably. "It's dangerous, Dumbledore said," he whispers.
"Don't be a ninny, it'll be fun," I say. "What's life without a little excitement?"
James grins and reaches over to slap my palm. We turn back to look at Dumbledore.
"And let us give a warm welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alyssa Tillanders," Dumbledore says, and with a sweeping motion gestures to a relatively young lady sitting directly to his left.
We clap politely.
"And that is all. Prefects, please lead the first years to their respective common rooms. Good night!"
Everyone stands, and silence becomes noisy chatter again.
"Who's leading us back to our common room?" Remus wonders. At that moment, a boy calls very loudly for the Gryffindor first years. We trudge over to him and another girl.
"Form a line, please," says the boy. "I'm Frank Longbottom, this is Wendy Rhineley, and we're your fifth-year prefects. Now, I know you're all very tired, so if you keep up and don't get lost, we'll be at the common room in quite a short time."
Wendy heads to the back of the line, and we make our way to the Gryffindor common room, following Frank. We climb up flights of stairs and walk down endless corridors, Frank and Wendy each taking turns to tell us things we ought to take note of, like trick stairs, and walls that pretend to be doors. After a short time, my legs are like lead, and I wonder how short a time it'll really take to reach the common room. Then suddenly, people at the front of the line scream loudly.
"What happened, what is it?" James asks me, trying to look over my shoulder to see the commotion. He doesn't have to ask; the next moment, something swoops over us and drops something sizzling at us. We all dodge, and the next moment, the sizzling object blows up in a multihued explosion, quite like fireworks. The people around us scream, and the people in the portraits yell in fright, scurrying into the next frame.
"Whoa, cool," James and I simultaneously exclaim, and Remus is open-mouthed with awe, but most of the others aren't very happy.
"There're portraits in here, Peeves," Wendy shouts at the thing swooping around, which on closer inspection is a small, old man with a wicked expression on his face. "Imagine if those fireworks had damaged them!"
Peeves ignores her. "Why, here are the little first years!" he says gleefully.
Frank is stern as he reprimands Peeves, but his lips are twitching slightly. "When will you stop scaring the first years, Peeves? D'you want us to call the Bloody Baron?"
Peeves makes a face, and swoops past us (we all duck) and through the wall.
"That's our resident poltergeist, Peeves," Frank says. "The Slytherin ghost is the only one who scares him."
"Do we have a Gryffindor ghost?" a small boy with mousy hair, whose name I think is Peter Pettigrew, asks up front. He sounds positively terrified of the idea.
"Yes, we do," Frank says, but upon hearing Peter Pettigrew's squeaks, adds quickly, "he's a very nice ghost. Extremely helpful."
We walk along a few more corridors and stop before a portrait of a very fat lady wearing a pink dress. "This," says Wendy, gesturing to the portrait, "is the Fat Lady. Her portrait conceals the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. To enter the common room, tell her the password, and she'll swing open. The passwords are changed regularly, and each time they're changed the new password will be made known to you."
"The password for now is Romulus," Frank tells us, and the portrait of the Fat Lady swings forward, revealing a round hole in the wall - the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Frank leads the way in, and we find ourselves in a circular, snug room full of comfy armchairs. I want to jump into one armchair and curl up to sleep, but Frank calls for the boys to follow him through a door, and Wendy tells the girls to follow her through another door. After an exhausting climb up a spiral staircase, we enter what is to be our dormitory. Five four-poster beds with dark red velvet curtains, lie in wait for the five new Gryffindor boys. Gryffindor boys. I am one of them. You would think that by now it's already sunk in, but I discover that the thought of being a Gryffindor first-year brings a kind of wild joy that causes me to lose my lethargy and makes me want to jump from four-poster to four-poster. I am on the verge to do just that, but I remember at the last moment that Frank the prefect stands by the doorway, and try to restrain myself.
"All right then, everyone?" Frank asks us.
"All right," a few of my new roommates murmur their assent. Frank chuckles, tells us that we can find him in the dormitory a few floors down if we need anything else, then leaves.
"Really amazing, isn't it?" James says delightedly, walking over to the windows and peering outside.
I look at the surroundings with a great big smile on my face, and then leap onto the bed which has my trunk beside it. Here I am, in the home of the lions, in the lair of the enemies of Slytherins.
"Amazing doesn't even begin to describe it."
Lily
It's strange being in a whole new environment without Severus at my side. Prior to my arrival at Hogwarts, I've always imagined the both of us being in the same house, and being almost inseparable at all times. But right now I'm in Gryffindor, a house totally at odds with Severus' house, Slytherin. Judging by the comments made by the noisy boys Severus and I have met on the Hogwarts Express, and a few of the remarks made by older Gryffindors during the feast, Slytherins are a shady lot. It looks as if my friendship with Severus is going to be a lot trickier now. My heart sinks at the thought that we may possibly not be best friends for much longer. However, I do not have that much time to wallow in self-pity, as we've reached the top of the spiral staircase, where our dormitory expects us. We enter, and I am somewhat stunned.
"So, here we are, the girls� dormitories," Gemma Spinnet, whom I've made friends with on the train ride to Hogwarts, remarks dramatically. Her theatrical comment is ruined by her bounding onto her four-poster bed, which is right beside the window and next to mine.
"At Hogwarts," adds a blond-haired girl who I know to be Mary Macdonald. She looks just as awe-struck as I feel, looking around at the room that is to be our home at Hogwarts for seven years.
"It's brilliant!" I exclaim. Walking over to my bedside, I realise that the cat basket containing Nightfall stood on my trunk, and I take her out. She's relieved to get out of that small confined space, and leaps onto my bed with a grateful mrrow. I hop onto my bed as well, and roll over so I was facedown. My next sentence comes out slightly muffled. "This bed's divine."
"Agreed," Gemma says. I sit up and hug my pillow. "I think we should introduce ourselves properly, in order of our beds. I'm Gemma Spinnet."
"Lily Evans," I say, seeing that I'm next.
"Alicia Steinwright," says the girl whose bed is on the other side of mine.
"I'm Mary Macdonald.'
"Deborah Hallowell,' says the last girl. She is in the midst of tacking up a poster that says 'Tutshill Tornadoes.' "Anyone plays Quidditch?"
"I do!" Gemma and Alicia both yell, whereas Mary and I shake our heads.
I grin at Mary. "Muggleborn?"
She nods. "Mmm-hmm. You?"
"Same, but I do have a wizard best friend, and he tells me about Quidditch, but I've never actually played it before."
"You've never actually played it before?" Gemma asks the both of us in scandalised tones.
"Horrifying!" Deborah says, aghast. It's as if she is commenting on a murder.
"We'll have flying lessons this year, anyway," Alicia says.
"But we can't wait till then!" Deborah cries indignantly. "Mary, Lily, we're going to teach you the rules of Quidditch, whether you like it or not. It's the best game ever!" She looks at us, as if daring us to disagree. When we don't, she continues, "Merlin knows how you were able to survive for so long without knowing Quidditch - honestly!"
"Hey, I like your cat," Gemma says, coming over to my bedside and picking up Nightfall, who doesn't seem to mind her, to my surprise. Nightfall doesn't allow anyone to touch her; as of yet only Mum and I have managed to do so and remain unscathed. Gemma chucks her under her chin and she purrs loudly. "What's her name?"
"Nightfall," I say proudly.
"She's so tiny! Did you just get her?" Gemma asks, now cooing over my cat.
"Yeah, a few weeks back at Diagon Alley," I say, and bend down to fumble with the lock of my trunk. After a while, I give up and rack my brains for a spell that I've read before. I recall it, take out my wand, and say, "Alohomora!"
Gemma put Nightfall down. "That's a good one," she says, impressed. "Are you sure you're a Muggleborn?"
I beam. "Yeah. I found it in one of our spellbooks," I say, pulling out from my trunk my blanket. Almost everyone I know tells me it's tattered (though I prefer the term 'rugged homeliness'), but I've been sleeping with it since I was four, and old habits die hard. Nightfall didn't take too well with it a few weeks ago, but I've trained her, and now she's fine with it. Sniffing the blanket, I find with delight that it smells of home, and that smell gives me a sense of security so strong that I feel truly comforted since the moment Severus has been sorted into Slytherin.
"Security blanket?" Gemma asks. Her tone isn't mocking, but understanding. Still, I can't help but feel a little defensive.
"Yes," I say defiantly.
She smiles, and removes a worn little stuffed dragon from her trunk. "Security dragon," she says, giggling. I giggle, too, feeling a rush of affection for my newfound friend.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm tired," Alicia says. She's already undressed and put on her pyjamas, and now snuggles into her bed. "Someone put out the candles. G'night, everyone.
The rest of us put on our pyjamas, too, then murmur our goodnight's and retire for the night, dragging the deep red velvet curtains around our bed. Nightfall curls up beside my head on the pillow, and I sniff my blanket again, inhaling the soothing scent. This time, a pang of homesickness accompanies the scent, and I think of Petunia.
I'll write to her tomorrow, I tell myself. And then I'll deliver it to her. Then she'll forgive me. She has to.
And with that last thought in mind, I fall asleep.
James
The next morning, our dormitory is full of chaos as we stumble over one another or our trunks in our haste to wash up and change into our uniforms so we can go down for breakfast. The cause of chaos?
Oversleeping.
Back home, I can oversleep and I won't have to rush because every event will simply have to wait for me. But here in Hogwarts, no event will wait for me. I can't say I don't mind the sudden change. I race to the bathroom to wash up, and almost roar in frustration when I find that it is already occupied by someone else.
Back home, I have a bathroom in my room. This bathroom is for me to use, and at anytime of the day, it is left unoccupied. But here in Hogwarts, bathrooms won't be left unoccupied just for me.
"Oy!" I yell, hammering on the door. "Open the door! I need to wash up!"
"Why don't you change on your bed?" Sirius calls over to me, pulling on one of the Gryffindor ties that have been left on every bedside table.
"Good idea," I say, and throwing one last glare at the closed bathroom door, I march back to my trunk and yank my uniform out of it, messing up the orderliness. Just as I am putting on my tie, the door opens and a boy who I know is named Peter Pettigrew comes out.
"About time," I say, and duck into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
"I'm sorry," Peter says apologetically. "I was taking a quick shower."
"You still needn't have closed the door, I wouldn't want to peek at you," I mean to say, but through the toothbrush in my mouth what actually comes out is a lot of mumbling and some toothpaste.
Remus ducks into the bathroom to wash his face.
"You ready to go, James?" he asks, as he wipes his face with a towel. "Sirius is waiting for us in the common room."
Spitting out the last of the toothpaste and gargling water in my mouth one last time, I wipe my face on another towel and survey myself in the mirror. I look fairly presentable, with the slight exception of my forever-messy hair. "Yeah, I'm done," I say, and we race downstairs to the common room, where we join Sirius and go to the Great Hall together.
Most of the students are finishing their breakfast, and the three of us are a few of the last students to enter the hall. We take a seat near the end, and I call "good morning" to Gemma, who calls back to me. Professor McGonagall, who is giving out timetables to the various years, looks at us disapprovingly as we gobble down our food like starved trolls. I half expect her to give us a talking-to, but all she says is a sardonic "Be careful you don't choke" before she turns to help the seventh years fix their timetables.
One of our roommates, Stewart Kavanagh, passes us three first-year timetables. He and Peter have almost finished their breakfast. "We've got Charms first with the Hufflepuffs, followed by Potions, then lunch," he tells us.
"Where's the Charms classroom?" Remus asks, somehow managing to speak politely through his mouthful of scrambled eggs.
"Dunno," Stewart shrugs. "Peter and I'll wait for you so we can go together if you want to?"
"Yeah, that'll be good, thanks," I say as I sink my teeth into the heavenly toast after finishing my eggs.
"Hey, James, want me to wait for you?" a voice comes from behind me. I look around and see Gemma. Next to her stands Lily Evans, who is determinedly looking everywhere but at us.
"No, it's okay, you go ahead first."
"Right, see you in Charms, then," she says, waving, and then she's gone.
"Done," Sirius says, shoving the last of his toast into his mouth and pushing the plate away. Remus and I gape at him; we are only halfway through our toast. "Hurry up, we're going to be late."
"You can go ahead first," I say, like I've said to Gemma a few seconds earlier.
"No, I'll wait," Sirius says, so defiantly that Remus and I stare. "I mean," he hurriedly amends, "since we've been late together from the start."
By the time Remus and I are done eating breakfast, most of the students have left for their respective classes. I look around for Gemma in hopes that she can possibly lead us to the Charms classroom, but she has already left.
"C'mon," Peter urges, antsy to move off. "We've still got to get our stuff for Charms and Potions."
"What do we need to bring?" Sirius gasps between breaths as we race to our dormitory.
"I dunno, quills and parchment to write notes on, I suppose," Remus replies. "We haven't got any books specifically for Charms, do we?"
"I dunno," I say, as we sprint into our dormitory, "I thought The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One was sort of a Charms book. Oh, and One Thousand and One Magical Herbs and Fungi is for Potions, I think." Gathering parchment, stationery, and the thick spell books in our arms, we go back downstairs to the common room, where a basic directory for the various classrooms is tacked up to the notice board and rapidly scan through it for a sign of the Charms classroom.
"There it is!" Sirius crows triumphantly, prodding a little box on the directory excitedly. "It's on the third floor. Right, let's go!" We dash out, tearing down four staircases. Peter gets his leg caught on a trick stair, and we have to pull him out and gather his fallen things, which wastes us some more time. By the time we reach the classroom, gasping for breath, lesson has already started. We look at each other in panic, wondering what we ought to do.
"I think we should just go in," Remus says, chewing on his bottom lip nervously and looking at the rest of us.
"No, I vote we just skive off the whole lesson," Sirius says, looking all ready for a nice romp in the grounds, and I can't say I'm against that idea, either.
"Better late than never," Stewart insists. I imagine what Mum will say if she hears that I'm skiving off my first ever lesson at Hogwarts.
"All right, we'll just go in," I decide, but no one wants to knock the door. In the end, it's Peter Pettigrew who actually knocks on the door.
A squeaky voice floats out of the classroom. "Come in."
We stare at each other. "That's supposed to be the teacher's voice?" Sirius says incredulously. I shrug, but already Remus is opening the door and leading the way in.
"We're really, really sorry for our tardiness, Professor," he says, hanging his head.
"Yeah, we're really sorry," we mumble after him, but not before Sirius and I catch sight of our teacher - an extremely short man sitting on a pile of books on his chair. He nudges me and I nudge back, and we both have to stifle our laughter.
"Ah, our four missing students," the teacher squeaks, peering down at us kindly from atop the mound of books. "No matter, no matter, it's the first day of school, it's expected that you'll be late. Got lost, did you?"
That's not the truth, but we nod hastily and say, "Yes, Professor."
"Well, take a seat, boys," he says.
The unoccupied seats are scattered far and wide, which means I'm not able to sit with any of my roommates. Also, none of the unoccupied seats are right beside Gemma. My friends file past me, and the only remaining seat is the desk beside Lily Evans, the red-haired girl we'd met on the train. She throws me a look of great dislike. I give her what I hope is an innocent smile; it'll probably infuriate her more than a glare.
"Hey, Evans," I whisper, in hopes of irritating her further.
She tries to ignore me at first, but I whisper her surname some more.
"What?" she finally snaps, and is shhh-ed by our classmates.
I grin to myself. "What's the teacher's name?"
"Professor Flitwick," she says brusquely, before facing front again.
Professor Flitwick squeaks about the various charms that we will learn in the coming days and years at Hogwarts, and about how charms can actually be discovered sometimes. He also says that we're not going to be doing any practical spellwork for today, and this somewhat slackens the focus of the class. By the end of the lesson, Sirius and I are carrying on a mouthed conversation, and a few students are passing notes to one another. Lily Evans, however, listens in rapt attention, taking down notes. When the bell finally rings, I am one of the first out of the classroom, and I wait for Sirius and Remus to come out, too.
"We've got Potions next, I remember. Where and with whom?" Sirius asks, as we follow a clump of our housemates along the corridors.
Remus checks his timetable. "Potions is in the dungeons," he informs us. "With the Slytherins."
"The Slytherins?" I ask, recalling a particular Slytherin from yesterday. "We're to meet ol' Snivellus again, then?"
Sirius starts to grin, but before he can say anything a furious voice comes from my other side.
"You think you're so great, Potter - calling people names, I suppose you think that's awfully smart of you."
I turn in surprise, and realise that it's Evans. "In case you hadn't noticed, Evans, it was your dear friend who insulted Hagrid. 'Oaf,' I believed he said," I shoot back.
"It's his mother who told him that, he's just parroting what she said," Evans says, flushing pink. "Oh, forget it, why do I even bother?"
"Yes, why do you?" I taunt, and she barrels past me in fury.
"James, you didn't have to do that," Gemma says, sighing, and I start, not realising that she's been behind us all this while.
"What, it's my fault that her friend's a jerk?" I demand.
"No, I'll admit that it's Snape's fault, but - oh, never mind, see you in Potions, James!" And with that, my best friend runs off after Evans.
I have to admit that I am rather peeved about this. Gemma's supposed to be my best friend, and now she's siding with Evans!
"I thought she's your best friend," Sirius says, rather gleefully.
I look at him in surprise; he seems to have read my thoughts. Remus also gives him a glance. If there's one thing I observed about Remus from almost a day of knowing him, it's his gaze. They're very piercing, and make you feel as if he knows exactly what you're thinking. I can't blame Sirius for feeling guarded and wary.
"What?" Sirius says defensively. "I was just making a remark."
"Nothing, nothing. Hurry, we're going to be late," Remus says, herding us to the dungeons, and that is that.
A/N: What do you think of this? Your thoughts are much appreciated, so if you don't mind... (Points down there. And also, hopes that you get the hint). Thanks!