“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!” James races into the hall, knowing that this could cost him his life and not caring, not caring as long as his wife and son are safe, as long as it is enough to save them…
Chapter 1.
By quarter till eleven, the platform is packed.
James drags his trunk past a gaggle of excited fourth year girls and stands it up on one end. His stomach is clenched with anticipation, and his eyes keep going back to the smoke stream pouring from the scarlet steam engine. He feels slightly guilty for wishing that he were already on the train.
Eleanor Potter’s bright blue eyes are wet as she hugs him and tousles his hair. “I could have packed you a proper lunch,” she says quietly. “A bit of pie, and potatoes, and some custard in a tin…”
“Mum,” says James patiently, “I made sandwiches. Besides, think how I’d look carrying around a tin.”
She sighs. “Take care of yourself, won’t you, James?”
“Only if you write loads, and send me things,” James tells her half-jokingly. She smiles weakly, but a tear streaks down her cheek.
Harold Potter claps a hand over his shoulder and steers him off to one side as his mum fumbles in her hand bag for a handkerchief. “I put a bit of a present in your trunk for you,” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth. “Take good care of it, and don’t get into too much trouble, okay?”
“What is it?” James demands at once, but the question is lost in the thunderous scraping of broken trolley wheels on concrete as a small boy passes them. A taller boy and an imposing witch in old-fashioned robes follow, arguing loudly.
“This isn’t necessary, Sirius! Why in Morgana’s name you can’t be more like your brother””
“Regulus?” Sirius asks contemptuously, shaking back his dark hair. James runs a hand through his own unruly locks self-consciously.
BANG!
Regulus has run his brother’s trolley headfirst into a cart being pushed in the opposite direction by a stout, blond first-year boy with watery blue eyes. Both trunks tumble onto the platform, and there is a noise like a firecracker going off from inside one of the trunks.
“Oh no,” says the blond boy weakly.
James has never seen anything quite like the apoplectic speechlessness that has come over Mrs. Black; she looks rather as if she has been force-fed a kneazle. He bites his lip, but the derisive laugh slips through.
Sirius notices James for the first time and stares, astounded as James fights to regain composure. He doesn’t seem to know whether to grin or to hit James. Somewhere on the platform, a warning whistle blows.
“You’d best go, James,” his dad murmurs.
He hugs his dad and kisses his mum’s cheek before he seizes the end of his trunk. “Love you both”don’t forget to write to me!”
“James, you’ve forgotten your scarf,” Eleanor says suddenly. She tugs off her own red cashmere one and drapes it around his neck, and then tousles his hair for good measure as the whistle blows again. “Now go, love! See you at Christmas!”
James gets on the train after Sirius Black, who helps him turn his trunk into the hallway. They pause, panting a little, as the train lurches forward.
“I’m James”James Potter,” he says, holding out his hand.
“Sirius Black.” Sirius looks at his hand warily, but doesn’t take it. “You laughed at my mother on the platform.”
“Sorry about that,” James ventures sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “but…she looked like she’d swallowed a kneazle.”
Sirius smiles back, a crooked smile that pulls slightly at the right side of his mouth. “She always looks like that,” he remarks, and shakes James’ hand. The hand-shaking thing is how adults introduce themselves, but James thinks it is awkward and weird. There is a bit of an uncomfortable silence. The train lurches again, and they both start.
“Come on,” says James impatiently. “Let’s get a compartment.”
The hallways are narrow and most of the compartments are full. They find a compartment halfway down the car, empty except for a girl with fiery red hair pressed against the window, and a mousy-haired boy snoozing on the near right seat with a book open in his lap.
“This okay?” James asks, and Sirius shrugs. Together, they heave their trunks into the luggage racks.
The last of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is slipping away beyond the window. James falls into the seat across from the girl, and Sirius sprawls over the two seats to her right. James prods her shin with the toe of his trainer and asks authoritatively, “Who are you?”
“Lily,” she says softly, not looking away from the window.
“I’m James Potter, and this is Sirius,” James offers cheerfully, gesturing with a thumb at Sirius. “You don’t really care, though, do you?”
Her silence is more telling than any sign of affirmation could have been. James doesn’t understand how anyone could be so unfriendly, especially to him. “Bright little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” says James scathingly, and slides over a seat to poke the mousy-haired boy in the shoulder.
He stirs and wakes abruptly, his breath catching in his throat as the book slips off his lap. He lunges forward but doesn’t manage to catch it before it hits the floor. Sirius laughs. Flushing, the boy reaches down to pick it up.
“Hullo,” James says brightly, turning in his seat to face the boy as he sits back up. The boy’s soft brown eyes widen in surprise; he leans slightly back into the wall as if to put a little more distance between himself and James. “I’m James”James Potter, and this is Sirius Black.”
“Remus Lupin,” the boy murmurs politely. “Pleased to meet you.”
“What’re you reading, Remus?”
Remus holds up the book so James and Sirius can see. In curling script across the top are the words, “Dreadful Denizens of the Deep.” Below it is a picture of a horse with seaweed in its mane, standing in a pond. James scrunches up his nose; he doesn’t know what a ‘denizen’ is, but he’s seen drawings of those horses before.
“It’s a kelpie,” Remus explains. “I think they’re fascinating.”
“Oh,” says James knowledgably. “Dad saw one of those in Gattonside once. That was a long time ago, though”back when he was still playing professional Quidditch.”
“What team, James?” Sirius asks interestedly.
The compartment door slides open. A boy with greasy black hair and a large, hooked nose wanders in, already dressed in his school robes, and takes the window seat across from the girl. James tears his eyes away from the super-extended, intimidating arch that is his nose as Sirius repeats, “James?”
“Yeah?”
“What team?”
“Oh! The Kestrels,” James says, just as the greasy-haired boy tells the girl, “You’d better be in Slytherin.” James blinks, incredulous, and blurts, “Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”
“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” Sirius comments coolly.
James looks around at him, surprised and a little indignant at the sudden infestation of Slytherins”who, as his dad always said, were “back-stabbing, inbred, hypocritical bastards”. “Blimey…I thought you seemed all right.”
Sirius’ crooked smile is back. There is something dangerous about the way he smiles, and it’s so far from being reassuring, but it makes James want to grin too. “Maybe I’ll break the tradition,” Sirius says. “Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”
He is among friends after all, then, and his enthusiasm is restored. James hoists an imaginary sword into the air. ‘“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!’ Like my dad.” The greasy-haired boy snickers. He is really starting to grate on James’ nerves”no one makes fun of his dad and his House and gets away with it. “Got a problem with that?”
“No,” sneers the boy, “if you’d rather be brawny than brainy”“
Sirius’ eyes flash. “Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” James laughs mockingly. He’s still angry, but it’s abated a bit and he can almost look at the greasy-haired boy without wanting to punch him.
Lily sits up stiffly. “Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment.”
James thinks briefly that this is a stupid name, before reacting instinctively in the most immature way possible. Fortunately, Sirius reacts the same way at the same time.
“Ooooo!”
Sirius and James exchange mock-horrified expressions, as if they are sad to see Miss Frigid and The Creepy Git exit the scene, and James puts out his foot as Severus passes. He doesn’t trip, but his ears flush as James calls out, “See ya, Snivellus!”
“Slytherin,” James repeats disbelievingly as soon as they are gone. “Who actually wants to be in Slytherin? You might as well, I dunno, sign up to marry Grindelwald, or something.”
Remus sighs. “I guess.”
“Well, where do you reckon you’ll be?” Sirius asks Remus sharply. Sirius has already put his feet up in Lily’s vacated seat.
“I don’t know,” Remus says very quietly. “Ravenclaw, I suppose.” He closes his book softly, but his fingers are tightly curled around the spine.
“You should be in Gryffindor, with me and Sirius,” James announces, clapping him on the shoulder as if that settled it. Sirius grins.
Remus shifts a little and ventures a timid smile. “That would be…nice.”
There is a thud outside their compartment as three tall boys pass by quickly. The blond one in the center has a prefect badge pinned to his robes and a sneer that James can see from the window seat. “That was odd,” Sirius says lightly, not looking in the least bit fazed. “Wasn’t that the Malfoy bloke?”
James frowns. “I don’t know. Why? D’you know him?”
“He’s my cousin Narcissa’s newest crush,” Sirius snorts. He imitates a high pitched, girly voice gushing, “Dear Lucius said to me the other day...Lucius let me touch his lovely hair…Lucius is so”“ James is laughing helplessly, and Sirius and Remus can’t help but laugh too, because James is so completely gone.
The compartment door flies open, and the blond boy they’d seen on the platform stumbles in, dragging his trunk. “Sorry! Can I hide”sit, I mean”can I sit in here?”
“Er…okay?”
The first-year beams gratefully at James and struggles to heave his trunk into the luggage rack. The others watch, bemused, as he pulls up the hood of his jacket and falls into the window seat, keeping his chin down. A few minutes later, Malfoy and the other two boys walk back the other way, peering into the compartments as they pass. Sirius leans forward slightly to shield the blond boy from view.
“Thanks,” says the boy breathlessly once Malfoy is out of sight. He doesn’t meet any of their eyes when he says it, and fiddles anxiously with a loose thread hanging off the cuff of one sleeve. “My name is Peter Pettigrew, but you can call me Peter…I mean, if you want to.”
James grins easily. Peter seems very nervous, but James is confident that if the older boy comes back, the four of them could probably hold their own”or else they could just lock the compartment. “No problem. Hey, I’m James”James Potter, and this is Sirius Black and Remus...”
James looks to Remus for a hint at the forgotten surname, but the mousy-haired boy isn’t listening; somehow, when James wasn’t watching, the book with the kelpies had come out again.
“Lupin,” Sirius supplies smoothly.
“What?” Remus looks up from the page.
The compartment door slides open, and Peter jumps, but it is only a cheerful young witch pushing a cart loaded with sweets. “Anything off the trolley, dears?”
“Oh yes,” says Remus enthusiastically, standing up. “Chocolate Frogs?”
James jumps up at once, Sirius rising gracefully a moment later to add to the list of desired goods. “Droobles! Bertie Botts Every-Flavour Beans, cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties!”
“Fudge Flies!” Peter adds shrilly.
There is an uncomfortable pause, and Sirius says incredulously, “You like Fudge Flies?” Peter shrinks back into his seat. Sirius shrugs. “Fudge Flies for Peter, then, if you have them, and let’s have some liquorice wands as well!”
They dig in odd pockets for sickles and pay up. The witch has actually started down the hallway when Remus leaps up, fishes a galleon out of his robes, and ducks out after her. He comes back clutching a large block of chocolate and looking quietly pleased.
“Need something to eat that with?” Sirius says, raising an eyebrow.
“I think I’ve got a hammer in my trunk,” James offers. Sirius and Remus laugh. Peter laughs too, a bit too late. He oughtn’t be afraid of them, James thinks, but he doesn’t think anymore about it, because he has better things to do than worry about how uneasy Peter Pettigrew is. Honestly, he hasn’t eaten in nearly four hours.
James doesn’t remember the sandwiches until Remus has set the block of chocolate aside and opened a frog, and then only because he shifts in his seat and almost squishes them in the jacket pocket. Chicken salad sandwiches are the best kind, and James refuses to be embarrassed about pulling them out.
“Anyone want a sandwich? I’ve got three.”
Sirius pauses, a box of Bertie Botts in one hand, and stares at James. “Your mum made sandwiches?”
James grins. “I made the sandwiches”well, Mum made the chicken salad, but I”oh, whatever.” He chucks one at Sirius’ head.
Sirius drops the Bertie Botts as he barely catches the sandwich. He stares at it as though it were a foreign object, but he unwraps it and takes a bite all the same. James thinks that his crooked smile is that of a chicken salad sandwich convert.
Sirius manages the whole sandwich in six bites, and then looks apologetically at Remus. “I was going to offer you half, ‘cause you look like you need it, but I sort of wanted it.”
“That’s okay,” James says, holding out one of the other sandwiches to Remus. “Peter and I can split one.”
They practically have to force Remus to eat the sandwich, as he seems unwilling to take food from James, but after the sandwiches are gone and James’ sandwich-making ability has been lauded, they attack the candy with renewed vigor. Sirius and James break into the Bertie Botts Every-Flavour Beans as if it were Christmas incarnated.
“Butterscotch?” Sirius says in a disgusted tone, holding up a pale yellow bean. He tosses it away. Peter dives for it, puts it in his mouth, and promptly spits it out.
“Bogies!” he yells.
“Ugh,” says Remus. Sirius laughs mockingly.
“Merlin’s pants,” James says. “I have a box of all green every flavour beans.” He holds it out for them to see. All the ones on top are the same vivid shade of green.
Sirius snorts deprecatingly. “So much for every flavour.”
“Sour apple?” Peter guesses eagerly, staring at the box.
James shrugs and puts one in his mouth. Remus notices his face change first and, suppressing a laugh, asks, “What was it?”
“Strawberry,” says James sarcastically.
“I got strawberry once,” Peter remarks, “But it was sort of a pink color. Some strawberries are green, though.”
They stare at Peter for a moment. “What kind of strawberries are YOU eating?” Sirius demands.
“It wasn’t strawberry anyway,” James says. “It was grass.”
“Ugh,” says Remus again.
James grins. “Not bad, actually.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sirius snickers, shaking his head.
“MM,” James says loudly as he eats a second.
Sirius pops a strange, clear-coloured bean in his mouth and gags. “Phlegm.”
“I think I got the better deal.” James reaches for another green bean. “Still, could have been worse. Could have been paint”or vomit”Dad swears he got both in the same box once.”
“So, your dad went to Hogwarts too?” asks Peter, who had not been in the compartment earlier.
“Yep.” James tosses up a grass-flavoured bean and catches it between his teeth. He used to do this with his dad all the time; sometimes his dad would throw them for him. Peter claps, but stops quickly as Sirius starts pegging him with every flavour beans. “He was the one who told me about the kitchens, and the passageways”and there’s supposed to be tunnels going out of the school, too.”
“Tunnels going out of the school,” Remus repeats warily. “Where to?”
James runs his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. “Oh, you know, the village and stuff. Mum wouldn’t let him tell me where any of them are, though.”
“I reckon we could find them,” Sirius says, sitting up straighter.
The flash of lawlessness in his eyes sends a thrill of excitement coursing through James, and he sits up straighter too. “And not just the tunnels! Everything! Shortcuts, passageways”“
“Common rooms”“
“Kitchens”“
“Broom sheds”“
“The Forest”“
“The Forest?” Remus says sharply, just as Peter squeaks, “The Forbidden Forest?”
Sirius smiles his crooked smile. “Why not?”
“Why?” Remus replies more loudly.
“Because we can.” James grins and runs a hand through his hair. “No one there to tell us we can’t”well, except the caretaker. Who is it, anyway?”
“Apollyon Pringle, he’s been there for ages.” Remus’ eyes were anxious. “He’s a tough one, he is, tough and fair, and he won’t take well to either of you sneaking around.”
“Thus the sneaking,” James points out. “We just won’t get caught.”
“I’m not listening,” Remus groans under his breath, putting his face in his hands. “This never happened, I know nothing”“
“Cheer up, mate,” says Sirius. “This is going to be so much fun.”
“If we’re all in Gryffindor, like you wanted to be,” Remus points out.
“I can’t remember all the Houses,” Peter says nervously, wringing his hands.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” James tells him. “After all, there are ever so many of them.” Peter pales, and Sirius smirks.
The sky outside darkens to a deep violet as the candy supply dwindles, the night swallowing up the forests and the mountains. The train seems to be slowing down.
A cool, feminine voice echoes through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school shortly.”
“We’d better change into our robes,” Remus says. He climbs onto his seat to extract his robes from his trunk. Taking his lead, Sirius, Peter, and James do the same. James stuffs his mum’s red cashmere scarf into the trunk before he closes it back up and pulls on his robes. Peter manages to put his robes on both backwards and inside out, and by the time Remus gets him sorted out, the train is slowing to a stop beside the dark platform.
They stumble onto the platform, trying to figure out which way to go and unable to see much of anything through the hordes of older and much taller students, when a gruff, booming voice called out, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! Follow me!” A giant man carrying a lamp is wading towards them through the sea of students. A few small, shivering first-years are already clustered around him, looking worried and more than a little awed.
“Come on,” James mutters to Sirius. They trudge through the crowd, Remus and Peter on their heels.
“All here?” the giant man calls. “Let’s go, then.” He turns off the platform onto a steep, narrow path leading down and away from the station. It is completely dark, except for the lamp, and Peter presses forward to be closer to the light. James rubs his cold arms and peers unseeingly into the darkness. Were they going to walk to the castle?
“Yeh’ll be able ter see Hogwarts in a mo’,” says the giant. He moves to one side, and James realizes that they are standing on the shore of a vast lake. On the other side of the black, glassy water stands Hogwarts Castle, its towers shadowy and windows shimmering underneath the clear night sky. James looks around and sees a small fleet of boats, stationary and un-tethered in the shallows.
“No more’n four to a boat!” the giant says. He takes up a whole boat by himself. Peter, who has pushed to the front for fear of being left in the dark, climbs unsteadily into the nearest one and waves James over. James and Sirius clamber in, Remus following uncertainly behind.
“That everyone?” yells the giant. “FORWARD!” The boats begin to move of their own accord, sliding smoothly across the lake towards the castle. Remus is staring up at the castle with silent trepidation.
“I heard there’s a giant squid in the lake,” James remarks casually, running a hand through his hair. Peter (who has somehow wriggled between him and Sirius) trembles a little, his eyes darting around at the water nervously. James can feel the boat rocking beneath them as Peter shifts uneasily in the seat.
James sees the mischievous glint in Sirius’ eyes and realizes what he is about to do half a second too late. Sirius pressing cold fingers to the back of Peter’s neck and hissing menacingly in his ear might have been funnier, however, if Peter had handled it better.
“AAAGH!” Peter leaps up, catching James in the face with his arm. James’ glasses snap, and they both tumble into the black lake.
“Peter!” James shouts, exasperated, but he is grabbing at James frantically, his white face petrified. James seizes him by the neck of the robes and flounders back in the direction of the boat.
“Sorry, mate,” says Sirius, coming to the back of the boat and leaning far out to offer him a hand. “C’mon, James”“
James grasps at his hand and pulls him over too. Sirius comes up spluttering, indignant, and dog-paddling in place. Peter is squealing between them, struggling to stay afloat. The other first-years are pointing at them now and shouting for someone to notice them.
“Help!” Remus calls, unsuccessfully attempting to paddle back to them using his hands as oars.
Peter is verifiably hysterical as the boat glides away without them, and his voice cracks as he shrieks much more loudly than Remus, “HEEELLLPP! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!” Then he is gone, plucked out of the water by a giant hand, and set back into the boat. Sirius and James are both lifted out of the water too.
“Whadda yer playin’ at?” the huge man roars. “Blimey, can’t yeh just stay in the boat ‘til we get there?” They gape at him, slumped, dripping, Remus looking sheepish and Peter positively shell-shocked, until the giant begins to laugh. He pulls out a pink umbrella, still chuckling, and taps his own boat, which speeds to the front of the miniature fleet. “Watch yer heads!” he calls as they approach a low-hanging cliff.
The cliffs narrow into a long tunnel, at the end of which is a stretch of rocky shore beneath the castle. They climb out of the boats and follow the giant man up a set of stone steps to an enormous oak front oak. This is it, James thinks. Beside him, Peter gulps.
The giant knocks on the door, and it swings open.
A witch is standing there, looking down on them all. She is wearing emerald-green robes, and her black hair is pulled into a smooth, tight knot at the base of her neck. James is somewhat intimidated, and she hasn’t even said anything yet.
“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” says the giant man.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take it from here.” She pulls wide the door and beckons them all inside. Sirius and James bravely trudge in first, water sloshing around in their shoes. The others wander in behind timidly. Professor McGonagall ushers them into a small room just off the entrance hall. The buzz of cheerful conversation emanating from the Great Hall is cut off as Professor McGonagall closes the door behind her.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall says. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but first you must be sorted into your Houses. The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.” Peter breathes an audible sigh of relief. James rolls his eyes. “While you are here, your House will be like your family,” Professor McGonagall continues. “Your triumphs here will earn your House points, but any rule-breaking will lose your House points. I hope each of you will be a credit to whatever House becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes. I suggest you all try to smarten yourselves up.”
Her hard eyes fall on the four of them. Remus is the only one of the four of them who isn’t soaked through, and he shuffles his feet incriminatingly and looks at the floor. James runs a hand through his hair and realizes that his glasses are half-hanging off his face.
Someone giggles. Professor McGonagall glares.
“I shall return when we are ready for you,” says Professor McGonagall. “You will wait here…quietly.” She strides from the room.
“Are you all right?” asks a brown-haired girl as soon as Professor McGonagall is out of sigh.
James shrugs suavely. “Oh, you mean after we fell into the lake? The giant squid didn’t get more than a few tentacles around my ankle, but I expect if Hagrid hadn’t come along…” He trails off with a significant look. The girl looks impressed, but Sirius snorts and Remus ducks his head so James won’t see his smile. Peter blinks, confused.
“Here, give me your glasses,” Remus mutters. James pulls them off. Remus whispers something, taps them once, and hands them back to James mended. James fingers them with his mouth slightly open.
“Got something to get us dry?” asks Sirius, wringing out the hem of his robes.
“Er”I’ve actually tried a few simple heating charms, but I’m not any good yet,” Remus confesses.
“Try,” Sirius says, amused.
Remus waves his wand and brings it slashing back through the air at Sirius. There is a blast of heat, and the tail of Sirius’ robes catches fire.
The girls yelp and scamper away from them. Remus and James stamp out the flames, but Sirius is laughing so hard he can barely stand anyway, and his laugh is infectious. James can’t help but laugh as well.
“Sorry, Sirius, sorry,” says Remus hurriedly. At that moment, Professor McGonagall re-enters, and they fall silent, although James and Sirius are still grinning like idiots.
“All right now,” Professor McGonagall says sharply. “Follow me.” They traipse after her back through the entrance hall and into the Great Hall. James runs his fingers through his wet hair again.
James thinks bravely, Here goes nothing.
It is better than he could have ever imagined. Four long tables stretch the length of the hall, the golden plates and goblets illuminated by the flickering light of thousands of floating candles. If there is a ceiling, it is made of glass, because the hall seems to open to the clear night sky. All eyes are fixed on them. James is suddenly aware of the loud, squelching noise their water-logged trainers make against the stones, and the steady drip running off of their robes. Many of the older students and most of the teachers are eyeing them with raised eyebrows. James grins and lifts a hand in a casual salute to the hall behind Professor McGonagall’s back.
Professor McGonagall places a shabby old hat on a three-legged stool. Sirius elbows James and he stops waving just as Professor McGonagall turns back around. She glances expectantly at the hat. James stifles a yawn. What did she expect”the old hat to sing and dance?
Then, to James’ astonishment, the hat opens wide at the brim and sings:
”Wizards, witches, welcome
To this School of magic lore
Long ago established by
The Hogwarts founders four.
Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff
Found in each other kin,
And to their vision Ravenclaw
And Slytherin joined in!
United with a purpose to
Teach and shape young minds
The four realized they each preferred
To teach some different kinds
Gryffindor gathered those strong
And brave at heart
While Slytherin took those he
Thought found wiliness an art;
Hufflepuff, she sought those of
A steady, loyal nature,
And Ravenclaw selected those
Whose wit was their great treasure.
The founders chose one by one,
Handpicked them for their own
And elected me to sort
When they were dead and gone.
So put me on atop your head;
I’ll look until I find
The House in which you ought to be
And put you with like minds!”
The Hall rings with applause. “I wish I had a singing hat!” Peter whispers wistfully to James. “So what’re we supposed to do, exactly?”
Professor McGonagall is now unfurling a long scroll of parchment, and a hush falls over the Hall as she reads out the first name. “Aubry, Bertram!”
A frightened little noise escapes Bertram Aubry as he makes his way up to the stool. He looks at least as scared as Peter as the hat falls over his eyes. Then the hat opens wide at the brim and cries, “RAVENCLAW!” All the Ravenclaws cheer as Bertram Aubry scampers down and sinks into a seat at the Ravenclaw table.
“Avery, Varian.”
A boy stumbles past James, looks once to Professor McGonagall for reassurance, and sits down. He jams the hat on his head. There is a moment’s silence, in which James observes that the boy’s knuckles are clenched tightly around the edge of the stool, and then the hat shouts, “SLYTHERIN!” The table on the far wall rises, cheering Avery as he goes to take a seat.
Sirius and James grimace at each other. At first James thinks Professor McGonagall saw it when she calls, “Black, Sirius!” and then realizes she is just calling him up to be sorted.
Sirius’ eyes darken before the hat slides over them, but his disembodied lips quirk into a smile just before the hat shouts, “GRYFFINDOR!” The Gryffindor table rises in a wave of cheering as Sirius goes down to join them. He turns as he passes James and flashes him a thumbs up.
“Blekinsop, Barnabus!”
James chances a glance at Remus, who is twisting his hands anxiously and keeps avoiding looking at Sirius”who is watching them. Sirius winks at James, and James grins back easily.
“Catchlove, Greta” becomes the first Hufflepuff as James is struck by a sudden thought. Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, Potter…James will be the last one of them to get sorted. He feels an unfamiliar flutter of nervousness in his stomach and runs a hand through his hair again to calm himself. At the Gryffindor table, Sirius is bored already and toying idly with one of the golden plates.
“GRYFFINDOR!” James watches “Evans, Lily!” walk down to the Gryffindor table, her long red hair swinging down her back. He cannot help but smirk and glance over at Snivellus. The greasy-haired boy looks positively crestfallen that Lily wasn’t in Slytherin.
“Fenwick, Benjamin!” James turns away from the shaking blond boy approaching the stool and looks back to Sirius. He is moving over to make room at the Gryffindor table for the red-haired girl, but her eyes narrow inexplicably and she goes to find a seat further down the table. James grins and shrugs as Sirius cocks an eyebrow bemusedly.
Before either of them know it, Professor McGonagall is calling, “Lupin, Remus!” He stumbles forward rigidly. His face is chalk-white and tense, and his eyes are fixed on the floor before the brim of the hat slips over them.
The hat pondered Remus for a bit before declaring loudly, “GRYFFINDOR!” Remus jumps up and goes to join Sirius, followed thirty seconds later by “McDonald, Mary!” (the brown-haired girl who’d asked if they were all right.) “Mulciber, Eridanus!” goes to Slytherin.
There aren’t very many students left now. James stares fixedly at the starry ceiling, ignoring the Sorting until Peter’s name is called and he slips from James’ side and staggers up to put on the hat. It is very quiet. Peter is clutching the sides of the stool and seems about to faint.
The hat had taken longer with some than others, but the second hand is ticking away on the lit face of James’ watch. One minute…two minutes…three minutes…Merlin’s beard, it not only feels like ages”it is ages. Hushed conversations start up around the hall, but cease when the hat announces at last, “GRYFFINDOR!”
Everyone claps loudly for Peter, who skips off to join Remus and Sirius, beaming, relief written all over his shining, sweaty face. James stands a little taller, expectant and determined.
“Potter, James!”
James steps forward, sits down on the stool, and pulls the hat onto his head. He can’t see anything but the inside of the hat. Then a little voice whispers in his ear, “So sure of yourself, aren’t you, even now?”
James waits. “You’re braver than even you know,” it says quietly, and then shouts to the hall, “GRYFFINDOR!”
“YES!” yells Sirius in the split-second before the Gryffindor table erupts in cheering, and a low rumble of laughter goes down the staff table as James trudges off, wet but triumphant, to join the others at the Gryffindor table.
“Professor Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of our time, even if he is a bit eccentric,” James’ mum had once told him. James still doesn’t know what “eccentric” means, but he likes the headmaster at once.
Professor Dumbledore sits at the head of the staff table, resplendent in violently purple robes and a feathered hat and watches the Sorting with an amiable smile on his face. When the scroll has been rolled up and the stool put away, he stands and addresses the Hall in a warm, carrying voice.
“Welcome! Welcome to our first years, and to our older students, welcome back! A few start-of-term notices before the feast, if I may…tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will start at the end of the first week of term. Students wishing to try out should check the notice boards for more information. The Forbidden Forest remains, as ever, forbidden, and for good reason. Most interestingly, I heard from a warlock in Stratford that the tea leaves shaped like a rapier in a flowering shrub have clearly foretold the birth of a future wizard rock star.”
James isn’t sure whether he is serious or not. Clearly, neither is anyone else.
“Without further ado,” Professor Dumbledore finishes, smiling benignly, “Let the feast begin!”
The golden platters before them are suddenly laden with food. There is pork and chicken, roast beef and lamb, carrots and mashed potatoes and pudding, rolls, stuffing, soufflé, some truffles, and a plate of peppermint humbugs. James and Sirius both reach for the chicken platter at the same time, and after a brief but fierce staring competition, James relinquishes his hold. His other hand had, of its own volition, seized the mashed potatoes and he couldn’t well serve himself holding both anyway.
“Hullo, Sir Nicholas,” says a red-haired sixth-year across from James. It takes James a moment to realize the boy is talking to the transparent man sitting across from Peter. “Have a good summer?”
“Dreadful as usual, Fabian.” The ghost’s dramatic sigh and sanctimonious little nod are enough to make his head flop off.
Peter stares at the ghost, his mouth slightly open and his face very green. James forks the last few slices of roast beef off of the platter Peter is holding without him noticing.
James is on his third plate before he realizes that he hasn’t yet had any of the truffles, and the dish has been passed down the table. He doesn’t see them again before the end of the feast, but by that time his sides are aching, and he wonders if that last serving of pudding was a good idea.
Students who have finished have begun to leave the Hall. James stands up, unsure where to go.
“First years this way!” calls one of the Gryffindor prefects. The silver badge emblazoned with a ‘P’ flashes on his robes. They follow him out of the Hall, through a gaggle of Ravenclaw girls, and up a giant staircase.
“What does the ‘P’ stand for?” Peter asks Sirius in a low voice.
“Pompous, pig-headed prat, of course,” Sirius whispers back.
“Are you sure?” Peter stares anxiously at the prefect until the older boy glances over his shoulder to check on them, and then quickly gazes around all on the pictures on the walls as though he had been fascinated by them all along. Sirius smiles evilly. James rolls his eyes and puts his foot straight through a trick step.
“Merlin’s beard!” James yelps. The prefect comes back down and seizes his arm, tugging to lift him out.
“Didn’t you hear me say to jump that step?”
“No,” says James defensively. Sirius pulls on his other arm, and James comes free, hopping up to the next step. Remus’ despairing glance mirrors the prefect’s expression uncannily as he shooed them on.
“Watch that step!” says a monk in the portrait next to James.
“Couldn’t you have said that sooner?” James complains, put off.
“Not you”him,” the monk says exasperatedly as Peter looks away from a painting of bathing nymphs and puts his foot through the same trick step. Remus doubles back to help Peter, as Sirius and James are laughing too hard to manage, and still chortling, they race to catch up with the rest of the group.
James memorizes the turns they take in his mind, the staircase landings (because the staircases are changing even as they climb them) and the corridors they pass. In no time at all they come to a stop before a vast expanse of wall, on which hands a single large portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
“Password?” she asks.
“Paracelsus,” the prefect replies promptly. With a broad smile and a wink, the Fat Lady swings forward to reveal a doorway in the wall. They scramble through the portrait hole after the prefect, staring around avidly at the couches, wing-backed chairs, tables, and blazing fire in the hearth. “This is the Gryffindor common room,” announces the prefect. “Girl’s dormitories on the right, boys’ on the left. You’ll get your class schedules tomorrow at breakfast. Right then, off to bed!”
Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James mount the staircase. The first-year boys dormitory is marked. James pushes the door open, and Peter’s breath catches loudly in his throat.
It is an air, circular room with four four-poster beds hung with deep scarlet drapes. Their trunks are already sitting at the ends of each bed. Talking excitedly, they dig through their trunks for their pyjamas. James had forgotten about his dad’s present, but it is right on top of his things, and James sits down on the floor with his back to his bed to unwrap it.
The strings are knotted tightly. He tugs at them until they are loose enough to slide off, wishing he knew a spell to untie knots. Something silvery glints inside of the paper; there seems to be a note tucked into the folds of”clothes? James thinks incredulously. His dad got him clothes? He slides his hand in to pull it out, and his hand disappears.
It is his dad’s old Invisibility Cloak.
James stifles a whoop of joy”it was like being given Hogwarts on a plate. He could do whatever he wanted, anything at all, and it would be impossible to pin any of it on him!
“You okay, James?” Remus inquires softly. Both he and Sirius are eyeing James strangely.
James shifts quickly, hiding the heirloom, and straightens his pyjamas. “Yeah, of course.” When no one is looking, he shoves the wrapping paper beneath the bed, and the Invisibility Cloak under his pillow.
They crawl into bed, not talking much. James can’t resist slipping his hand under his pillow every few minutes to run his fingers through the cool, silky material, or touch the note his dad had slipped in with it. He can still see the familiar handwriting in his mind:
James”
My dad gave this to me my first year. I want you to have it now. Use it well, kid, and whatever you do DON’T GET CAUGHT. (Oh, and don’t tell your mum I gave it to you.)
Remus falls asleep first. Peter drops off a few minutes later, his wheezy, whistling snores filling the room and echoing from the corners. James waits a bit longer, impatient with himself for unnatural caution, and finally can’t stand it anymore. He slips out from under the covers, snatches up the cloak, and tiptoes to the dormitory door. The staircase is deserted. James steps out onto the stairwell and goes to close the door, but there is a body blocking the way.
“Going somewhere?” Sirius asks. No one else”except perhaps Professor McGonagall”could have made those two words sound so accusatory.
“Thought I’d explore a bit?” James tries. The innocent grin number works on his mum every time, but he doesn’t think somehow that Sirius will buy it, and he doesn’t want to have to show Sirius the cloak.
Sirius crosses his arms. “It’s only the first night.”
“Yeah,” James admits, “but I wanted to try this out.” He holds up the Invisibility Cloak nervously and hopes he hasn’t made a mistake in sharing this secret with the other boy. As Sirius’ eyes shine and he touches the fabric reverently, James thinks that it wasn’t.
“Where did you get this?”
“Been in the family for a while,” James says, grinning. “So, you in?”
Sirius steps out onto the stairwell and closes the door behind him. His answer is two words. “Course. Where are we heading?”
James hasn’t planned past getting out of Gryffindor Tower, but the question evokes the image of a plate of truffles, and his mind is immediately made up. “The kitchens?” James suggests. Sirius nods and follows him down the staircase. They slink across the empty common room on tiptoe and glancing around nervously, as if expecting Professor McGonagall to pop up from behind an armchair and catch them.
Sirius pushes open the painting as James throws the cloak over them. As they pass, invisible, the Fat Lady calls loudly, “Who’s there?” Neither of them answers. They creep along the dark passage, around the corner, and back down the stairs they had come up, shuffling along awkwardly and bumping shoulders under the cloak. The fierce pounding of James’ heart was so loud in his ears he wondered that Mr. Pringle wasn’t bearing down on them already.
"Trick stair,” James whispers. They jump it together.
The entrance hall is abandoned, completely dark, and the huge front doors are pulled closed for the night. “Come on,” mutters Sirius, and he slips out from underneath the cloak and walks into the Great Hall.
The light of the stars brighten the Hall, but it is quiet as death”or maybe detention”and it makes James jumpy. Sirius’ shoulders are tensed as well, but he is peering through the shadows towards the front of the hall.
“I thought that maybe that door leads to the kitchens.”
James squints. “What door?”
Sirius points to a little wooden door on one end of the staff table, one James hadn’t even noticed during the feast. “Good thinking,” James says, and runs over to pull on the handle. It is unlocked. He pushes it open gently and pads inside.
It is not a very large room, nor is it well-furnished, and the ash in the hearth is stone cold. By any reckoning, it is certainly not a kitchen. Sirius frowns and runs his fingers over the nearest wall, knocking lightly every few feet to see if it sounds hollow. James crouches to examine the fireplace, but rises disappointed.
“I think it’s just a spare room, mate.”
“I was so sure”“ Sirius falters, shrugs, and follows James out reluctantly. He tosses the Cloak back over them before they shuffle back out into the entrance hall.
“The kitchens must be close to the Great Hall, though,” Sirius reasons, looking around. There are a few other passageways and staircases out of the entrance hall, but there is no way of really knowing where they will lead, or if they will be able to get back.
“The Slytherins went this way, coming out of the Hall,” James says, gesturing to one of the down-staircases. “The Hufflepuffs went this way.” He points to the other.
“And the Ravenclaws?”
James runs his fingers agitatedly through his hair. “I don’t know. I wasn’t watching that closely.”
“Well, let’s try one of them,” Sirius says. They start down the Slytherin side, but halfway down find themselves in near complete blackness, a musty smell reminiscent of dungeons heavy in the air.
James falters on the steps. “Blimey, I can’t see a thing. We need a light.”
“It’s cold down here, and it smells bad.”
They look at each other”or where they think the other is”and say at the same time, “Other side?”
James knows when they reach the bottom of the Hufflepuff staircase that they must be close. The corridor is long and warm, and the flickering light of the torches casts shadows all over the paintings of food lining the entire passage. They come out from under the cloak incredulously, staring around and daring to dream that the secret to the kitchens is within their grasp.
“Maybe it’s like the Fat Lady,” James suggests. “You know, the painting opens up, and everything.”
“Yes, but which one?” Sirius goes to one wall and touches the nearest painting of fruit and wine gently before running his fingers over the frame and attempting to pry it from the wall.
James walks slowly down the corridor, thinking to himself and dragging his fingertips across the canvases, like a child running his palm over a handrail. There are meats and fruits and vegetables and breads, and an entire painting that consists of a sole, forlorn muffin. As his hand skims over yet another bowl of fruit, something in the painting squeaks. James does a full turn-around and repeats the motion.
He could have sworn the pear snorted.
James strokes it hesitantly a third time, and it giggles softly.
“Sirius!” James calls. Sirius comes flying over, excited, his face intense, and comes up short.
“It’s…a bowl of fruit,” he observes dryly.
“Yeah. Look, this is funny. I think the pear is ticklish.”
“What?”
James rubs the back of his hand against the pear, and it giggles again.
“That’s pathetic,” Sirius says disinterestedly.
James thinks it’s amusing. He rubs a little more firmly, and then turns over his hand and tickles it until it gives a full-fledged laugh.
“Someone’ll hear”oh!” Sirius stops mid-rebuke and dives for the door handle that has appeared on the face of the painting, fumbling until before it swings open”
“Merlin’s beard,” James says.
They are in the Hogwarts kitchens. In the center of a large stone room are four long, depressingly empty tables with a fifth at the head, all lined up like their counterparts in the Great Hall”perhaps even right underneath them. It smells delicious, even though the kitchen is practically deserted.
“Hello, sirs,” says a high-pitched voice level with James’ waist. “Yaler is wondering what he may do for you, sirs.”
Sirius yells and jumps back in surprise, clapping his hands to his mouth to stifle his shout. A small house-elf with large, bat-like ears and large blue eyes has practically materialized behind them. The tea towel it wore like a toga was stamped in one corner with the Hogwarts crest. James thinks briefly that he much prefers the student uniform.
“Erm…hullo.” James isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say, and certainly doesn’t want to be self-incriminating. “We didn’t mean to disturb you at this late hour, but Sirius here and I wanted to become acquainted, and er…um, mostly I was wondering if there were any of those truffle-things left.” Sirius laughs.
“But certainly, sirs, Yaler and Nolly will get you some!” cries another elf, who too seems to have come out of nowhere. Suddenly there are yet another six or seven elves bearing down”or perhaps bearing up”on us with a large tray of truffles, and also two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.
“Excellent,” says Sirius enthusiastically. The house elves bow so low their noses are almost touching the floor. Sirius takes a mug, but James goes right for the long-awaited truffles.
“Zeersebeztreser!” James announces through a mouthful of chocolate truffle.
“Didn’t catch that, James,” Sirius says brightly, clapping him on the back. There’s a bit of chocolate foam just above his upper lip, and also on the tip of his nose.
James swallows hard before repeating “these are the best truffles ever!” The house elves flush and bow again, but James is still talking. “After Remus had all that chocolate on the train I thought I’d never be able to eat chocolate again, but”“
“Right, sirs, we have much chocolate!” Nolly squeaks.
“No, it’s all right,” James protests, but the second tray is already at his elbow and laden with Honeydukes Chocolate, Chocolate Frogs, and little chocolate candies with a cream filling.
They leave ten minutes later, stooped under the cloak and carrying more chocolate than James has seen in a long time. Most of it ends up in his arms, with Sirius steering him by the elbow around the corners. Halfway down one of the corridors James trips into him and knocks them both through a tapestry. James catches the chocolate, and Sirius catches James; when they are both steady on their feet again, they are staring down a long, dark passageway. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know, but let’s come back another night,” Sirius yawns. He pulls the cloak back over them, puts a hand on James’ shoulder, and helps him past the tapestry. When they finally make it back to the Fat Lady, James is unsure whether of not to wake her, or even if they should take off the cloak.
Sirius leans close to the painting and hisses, “Paracelsus!” With a little snore, the Fat Lady swings open.
They hurry back up the staircase and into the dormitory. There’s not really a place to put all the chocolate, but Remus’ bedside table is tidy, so they dump it there for the time being.
James puts the Invisibility Cloak back in his trunk before he slides between the sheets. Sirius has already burrowed under a mound of blankets. “Sirius?” James says quietly.
“Yes?”
“Do you think we should tell them in the morning where we got all the chocolate?” There is a long pause in which James stares up into the dark canopy and waits for an answer. “Sirius?”
He is asleep. Stifling a sigh, James pulls the covers up to his shoulders and settles into the mattress.
*Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Bloomsbury. London: 2007, p538-9.
*Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Scholastic, Inc., New York: 1997. (A lot of the dialogue and descriptions are adapted from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone to recreate the first year experience for the Marauders…with a Marauders-style twist.)