By the Black Lake.
Mist was a permanent fixture on these waters.
It came uninvited, blurring the distant Forbidden Forest and the castle's spires into the silhouette of an ink-wash painting.
The air smelled of wet earth, threaded through with the faint, bitter bite of decaying water plants.
The first-years arrived on time.
They shed their robes.
In their place: a set of unfamiliar gray training uniforms, issued to every one of them. Standard Muggle design, rough fabric, built to last. On their feet were matching black trainers, also provided. None of it had been on their school supply lists. All of it came from Hogwarts.
Gone was Gryffindor's scarlet and gold.
Gone was Slytherin's silver and green.
Gone was Ravenclaw's bronze and blue.
Gone was Hufflepuff's bright yellow and black.
The lion, the serpent, the eagle, the badger , every badge and crest they had spent all of last night being proud of was locked away in a dormitory wardrobe.
They looked identical now.
A blurred, shifting mass of gray.
Remus Lupin stood at the head of the formation. He wore the same gray training uniform, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. The simple outfit made him look younger than he was. His gaze moved slowly over the faces in front of him.
A gray ocean. But not a unified one.
The boundaries were still very clear.
Gryffindors had gravitated toward each other on instinct, their voices carrying above everyone else's as they swapped stories about everything they'd seen in the common room. On the far right, the Slytherin students had claimed their own territory. Most stood with arms crossed, chins slightly raised, keeping half a meter of open air between themselves and anyone from another house.
Silent. Haughty. A separation that didn't need words.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had settled into the two spaces in between. A few Ravenclaws were already observing , studying the obstacles by the lake, reading Lupin's expression, quietly trying to work out what was coming. The Hufflepuffs looked uneasy, whispering among themselves, their eyes bright with equal parts curiosity and nerves.
Physical distance. Psychological borders.
Invisible walls, standing tall in a sea of gray.
Lupin cleared his throat.
His voice wasn't loud. It was steady and warm , like a shaft of morning light that cuts through cold air without effort, reaching every ear in the crowd.
"Good morning, everyone."
No professorial distance. No authority performed from a height. He sounded more like a seasoned guide. An older brother who'd walked this path before.
The murmuring died. More than a hundred pairs of eyes turned toward him.
"Welcome to Hogwarts First-Year Physical Training Week."
"For the next seven days, I am your head instructor. Remus Lupin."
"Physical training?" a Gryffindor boy whispered to the student beside him. "What's that?"
"Muggle thing," someone else answered. "Running, jumping. Apparently it's exhausting."
"Merlin's beard — we're wizards. Why are we doing Muggle work?"
Lupin gave no sign that he'd heard any of it.
He raised one hand and pressed it gently downward.
The noise stopped.
"I know many of you are confused." His gaze moved across the crowd, unhurried. "You want to know why you're doing this. Why any of this is necessary."
"For the next seven days, you will forget your wands. You will forget your spells."
He pointed toward the lakeside.
The obstacles had been set up while they slept. Wooden walls, taller than a person, built for climbing. A log bridge suspended in the air, shifting in the breeze. And an enormous rope net, strung from above, its lower end trailing into the mud.
They stood in silence along the water's edge , like the stripped skeletons of enormous beasts.
"The only things you can rely on are your own strength, your endurance, and your will."
He paused. His gaze moved across the formation one more time, settling for a moment on the invisible lines dividing it. Something shifted in his expression , brief, complex.
"And your teammates."
The word landed like a stone in still water.
Teammates? We already have teammates. Gryffindor with Gryffindor. Slytherin with Slytherin.
"From this moment on," Lupin said, his voice carrying a new edge of gravity, "you no longer have house identities."
"You are not Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff."
"You have one identity. A Hogwarts student."
He picked up a gray cloth bag from beside him.
"Inside this bag are numbered armbands. From left to right, come forward one at a time and draw your identity for the week."
His voice was calm. The crowd was not.
"T01 through T08: Group One. T09 through T16: Group Two. And so on."
The formation exploded.
"What?"
"That's not fair!"
"I want to be with my friends!"
The protests came from every direction.
Lupin didn't move. He stood holding the bag, watching, and waited for the first student to step forward.
It was a Ravenclaw girl. She hesitated, then walked up and reached inside.
She pulled out a small, smooth wooden tag.
"T05," she said quietly.
"Good. T05 — Group One assembles over there." He pointed to an open stretch of ground on his left.
With that single draw, the old boundaries cracked.
A tall Slytherin boy stepped forward next, reluctance written plainly across his face. Under Lupin's steady gaze, he reached into the bag.
T03.
He walked over to the Ravenclaw girl without a word, jaw set, brow furrowed.
A small Hufflepuff girl came next, drawing her tag with nervous hands.
T01.
She practically jogged to the front of the assembling group.
Gryffindor. Slytherin. Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw.
Red, green, yellow, blue , souls in four colors, pressed into identical gray shells, and then roughly churned together by an invisible hand.
"Instructor!"
A single voice cut through it all — loud, sharp, barely holding something back.
A tall, broad-shouldered boy stepped out of the line. He held his wooden tag in a tight fist. T22. He pointed at the slight Gryffindor boy who had just come to stand beside him, T24, and didn't bother softening what he said next.
"I'm not accustomed to standing with them."
No attempt to hide it. The contempt was right there on the surface, easy and natural, the way some things are when they've never had to be earned.
Lupin's gaze settled on him.
No anger. No reprimand. Just a quiet, steady look.
"T22. What's your name?"
The boy drew himself up, chin lifting slightly, as if stating his name were itself a small ceremony of pride.
"Derrick Flint, Instructor."
A classic Slytherin name.
➤ Next: The Instructor Demonstrates Himself? Thud! He Actually Fell!
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