The latch clicked once. It sounded like a warning I had learned to obey. No one was coming in. The carriage shuddered, and the corridor noise thinned to a steady hum.
For once I wanted the quiet to last.
We had the compartment to ourselves. Outside, the platform vanished and fields slid past: hedgerows, strips of stubble and short grass. A pale sky hung over them, with a few thin clouds hardly moving. When the wind angled the smoke, a blotch of soot crossed the glass.
The compartment smelled of old leather and beeswax polish. Velvet seats were rubbed smooth in the centre, and dust lay where the frame met the floor. My jumper still held the heat from the station, and the weave chafed at my wrists.
I sat by the window and watched. The wheels hit the rail joints at even intervals. I counted them without thinking, stopping at thirty. A cow lifted its head; an oak flashed behind a low stone wall, and the view closed again.
Remus set his case on the floor, took out a stack of parchment and three worn books, and wrote in a tight hand that left no wasted space. He reread the last line, pressed the quill between his fingers, and said without looking up, "Lesson plans."
He worked for a while, then lifted his head and told me small things about what waited at the end of the line. He never pushed the tone up to make it sound cheerful. He did not talk as if he were reading a brochure. He gave facts and waited for me to take them in.
"You know," he said, "many students come from families who've sent children here for generations. Some talk about the corridors as if they visit them every year with their parents."
He did not boast. He was not impressed by old names. He was describing a place he knew.
I nodded once. I had not thought about what other students would already know the first day they walked through the doors. Some would know that one staircase sticks on the fourth step if you go up too fast. Some would know a classroom that never warms, even when the fires burn high. Some would know which portrait repeats everything it hears. I did not yet know how the Houses worked in the day-to-day. I had not sat in a proper magical classroom. Most of what I had about Hogwarts came second-hand through stories and whatever Remus could drill into me between alarms. Some books were clear. Others were hard to get into. Arithmancy charts lost me. A few Charms diagrams wanted you to have done a drill in a classroom with four tables and a checking circuit that I had never used.
He saw me go quiet the way he always does. He laid the quill down and gave me his full attention.
"You do not need a crest or a great-uncle who founded a House to belong at Hogwarts," he said. His voice was even and firm. "You belong there because of who you are. That is enough."
I held his eyes for a second and felt my chest ease. He had not said I was special. He had not dressed it up. He had said what I needed and then stopped. That helped.
"Thanks," I said.
We let the train carry us then. We took the mid-afternoon service two days after we'd settled. By the time the carriage slid through the countryside, it was late afternoon and would be evening at the station.
I leaned back and let my head rest on the seat. I was not going to sleep. My shoulders and neck were tight from days of moving. I kept my wand in my pocket and my case by my feet so that my hand found both without looking.
"Did I mention the lake?" Remus asked. "It's large and very cold. There are merpeople and a giant squid."
"A giant squid?" I said.
"Rather friendly," he said. He smiled slightly. "He gets cross if people throw things at him, which is fair."
I laughed. "You are having me on."
"You'll see," he said. "He's fond of toast. Mind how you offer it."
A short laugh got out of me before I could push it down. A squid that liked toast sounded ridiculous and oddly plausible.
Remus turned the quill in his fingers and then nodded at the glass. "There is a village near the school. Hogsmeade. The only all-wizarding village in Britain."
"A whole village."
"Honeydukes for sweets. Scrivenshafts for quills. Dervish and Banges for odd devices. The Owl Office has cords in different colours that mark route and speed. There is a boarded house on the hill that locals avoid. They have reasons."
"The Shrieking Shack," I said. The name had reached me even with the gaps in my schooling.
He gave one short nod. "There's also the Three Broomsticks, which makes butterbeer."
"Are we allowed to go there?"
"Not in first year," he said. "You'll have time. There are old routes that do not sit on the main path. I am not meant to recommend them."
"How many?"
"More than Filch would like," he said. "Behind statues. Under floorboards. Do not use them to skip class."
"I would never." I tried on an innocent look and failed.
He looked at me as if he already knew me. "Greenhouses sit past the main lawns. Their panes steamed. Herbology meets there. Professor Sprout is kind and thorough. Do not underestimate her."
"How temperamental are the plants?"
"Some bite. Some tighten if you pull without warning. A vine wrapped three students last year when someone grabbed a tendril without warning."
"Right."
"It is not all dangerous. There are sloping lawns from the castle to the lake. Good to sit on in spring. The Astronomy Tower is one of the highest points. On clear nights you can count far more stars than from most towns."
"And the Forbidden Forest."
"It begins at the edge of the grounds," he said. "It is old and very much alive. Students are not to enter it. The rule is broken more than it should be. Centaurs live deep inside. They are proud and private. There are other creatures as well. Best to leave them alone."
I watched the fields slide past: hedgerows, plough lines, and a grey stone barn that slipped away. The sky stayed pale. Coal smoke rolled over the carriage roof and then cleared. The seat fabric scratched the backs of my knees through my trousers. The window glass felt cool when I rested my forehead against it.
The trolley rattled down the corridor, and a woman in a neat cap stopped at our door.
"Anything off the trolley?" the woman asked.
Remus cracked the door and passed a coin through. "Two Pumpkin Pasties and a Cauldron Cake, please."
"Pumpkin juice," I said.
He paid and shut the door. The pasties smelled of warm spice. I bit too soon, burned my tongue, blew at the seam and tried again. The filling was hot and thick with a little salt. The juice was cool pumpkin with a trace of cinnamon in the aftertaste.
"Eat," Remus said. "You'll want it later."
"For what?"
"Sorting. New faces. Many voices. It can be a lot if you haven't had crowds for some time."
I nodded and took another drink. The sugar steadied my hands faster than I cared to admit.
"At Hogsmeade Station older students take carriages," he said. "First years cross the lake to the school by boat. Follow the prefects."
The train slipped into a cutting. The sound got louder in a narrow way, close to our ears. When we came out, we crossed a slow river. The wheels changed tone on the bridge. A church tower stood too near the line and slid past. Rooks went up from a ploughed field and settled further on. My breath made a faint patch on the glass and cleared again.
"Harry," Remus said. "We arrive in the evening. We will use the staff entrance. Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster will meet us."
"Understood."
He closed the case and fastened both straps. "Be on your guard, Harry. Not tense all the time. That's different. Watch the moving stairs. Do not tell everyone everything. Say what helps you, not what people poke for."
"All right."
He studied my face and then lifted his wand. "Do you want to run a charm?"
"Which one?"
"Imperturbable Charm. Quick practice."
We stood. He pointed at the doorframe. "Grip higher. Wrist steady. No flourish." He cast the incantation and held the last note until a faint film of energy formed at the edge of the door. The air tightened for a second. He pressed his palm to the wood and felt the seal hold. He cancelled it with a tap and nodded at me to try. My heart juddered when the first failed. The second settled with a small click, and I let out a breath. He tested the seal with his knuckle and offered a small, real smile.
"Better," he said. "Again after we eat."
I sat. He handed me the Cauldron Cake and took a bite of his pasty. Crumbs fell on his robes. He brushed them off with the edge of his hand.
"Tell me more about the Houses," I said. "How do they work once you are there?"
"Four common rooms and four tables in the Great Hall," he said. "Each runs on its own set of habits. Each has its own board for notices and its own prefects. Your Head of House handles discipline and support. You will see how it fits. You will not be left to guess."
"What about subjects?"
"You will take Defence, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, and History of Magic to start. We will fill gaps where we need to. You know more than you think in some places and less than you want in others. That is normal. Do not worry about being behind. Ask when you need to. Practise every day."
I nodded. "Any staff I should avoid."
"Be polite to all of them," he said. "Listen to Professor McGonagall. Answer Professor Flitwick clearly. In Potions, keep your station clean and your knife sharp. When the professor counts out a potion, do not speak."
"Got it."
We let it go quiet again. I finished the cake and wiped my fingers with the napkin until they were clean. The train took a slow curve into higher ground. Fields fell away. Dark strips of forest took over the view. Wind moved in the trees, and the light dropped a little. The carriage leaned with the line. The air cooled. I pulled my jumper straight at the cuffs and rubbed a thumb under the seam until the skin warmed.
Remus watched the trees and checked his watch. "Half an hour," he said. "If we keep this speed."
"What exactly happens when we arrive?"
"We step onto the platform," he said. "We keep left. We do not block a door. I walk you through the staff room. We meet Minerva and the Headmaster inside the grounds. After that, Sorting, a quick tour, and bed."
"Straight to it."
"Yes."
I took my wand and turned it once in my fingers. The wood was smooth where my thumb sat. I put it away. The food reduced the tremor in my hands. My stomach felt settled and warm.
He folded his notes and slid them into his case. "One last thing. The portraits talk. If you do not want them to pass your words on, lower your voice and do not argue in front of them."
"Understood."
Someone tried our door. The handle turned. It met the seal and stopped. My second Imperturbable Charm put a thin vibration under my palm through the wood. A heavy step shifted outside and moved away.
Remus lifted an eyebrow. "Good," he said. He tapped the frame and released the charm. "Again before the station."
We looked out together. The trees opened to a flat valley with low buildings next to a dark run of water. The whistle sounded long and even. The wheels eased. The corridor lights came on. I tightened the laces on my right shoe and checked the clasp on my case.
"Harry," Remus said. "Wands ready when we stand."
"Ready."
I sat forward and set both feet square. My thoughts tried to run off in four directions, and then they lined up. I did not have to be anyone on the train but myself. I would have to choose what to show at the castle. The Memory Charm meant most people had no weight to put against my face, but one wrong word could put a watcher on me all the same. I felt my mouth go dry, and I swallowed it down.
We slowed again at a signal and rolled on. Roofs of a town showed in the distance, and smoke rose from several chimneys. I pressed my fingertips to the glass; it felt cool. The sky kept its pale colour and took on a touch of evening.
Remus closed the case, stretched and sat again. His shoulders made the small noise they do when he pretends they do not hurt. He kept his face steady. He did not put fear on me if he could help it.
"You will not answer every question," he said. "You will choose the ones that help you belong and keep you safe. Curiosity is not a right. You can say, 'not now.'"
"Not now," I repeated.
He nodded. "Good."
I took a slow breath. The air smelled faintly of polish and coal smoke. I watched five fields pass. A boy by a gate counted carriages with his finger. I thought of the first night we left the last safe house: Remus had said, 'walk', and I walked; he had said, 'stop', and I stopped. Today he had said, 'belong'. I would try.
The whistle went again. The track widened to a small yard with a signal box and a water tower that had seen better years. The engine worked harder for a short stretch and then eased. I could feel the change in my knees where they touched the seat. I rubbed a mark on the window with the edge of my sleeve until it cleared.
"Do you want one more go?" Remus asked.
I stood and raised my wand. The charm set hard this time. The air at the door edge went tight without a tremor. He pushed against it with his palm, and it held. He cancelled it with a neat movement, then pointed at the ceiling light.
"Simple Lumos and Nox to clear your tongue," he said.
The little light spells were a trick Remus used: lighting then extinguishing them steadied my breathing and set my voice right. The carriage floor rattled under our feet as we crossed points.
"Right," he said. "We go in, we meet them, we get you fed, and we sleep. Tomorrow we sort the rest."
"Tomorrow," I said, and kept the word in my head so it did not slip.
He reached to the rack and took down my case for me. I took it from him and felt the handle bite my fingers. It was a clean pain, the kind you can measure. I kept my wand in my other hand, low, ready without showing it off.
The train curved one last time through trees that had kept their leaves. The light outside the window took on the colour that comes before evening when the sun hangs low without glare. I could not see the castle yet. I could feel it coming, the place we were heading and the way the train slowed for the approach.
I wiped my palms on my trousers and checked the latch on my case again even though I knew it was shut. Remus watched me do it and said nothing. He looked out of the window with his mouth set easy. He kept his face steady; it was a habit rather than simple ease.
The carriage leaned and steadied as we crossed points. The wheels sang on a curve, and then the brakes ground us to a slow stop. The corridor filled with soft voices as people stood and lifted cases from racks. Someone laughed in the next compartment and then hushed when a prefect told them to save it for the platform. The air shifted from warm to cooler as a door opened at the end of the coach.
Remus stood. "Now."
I stood with him. My case in my left hand. My wand low in my right. My heart beat fast but not out of control. The latch on our door clicked cleanly when he turned it. The corridor carried the smell of cold air that had moved through open doors and a sweetness from someone's bag of sweets. We stepped out into the line and held to the left the way he had said.
I felt the train come to its final slow roll and stop. The last vibration ran through my shoes and eased away. Voices on the platform lifted and then settled. I tightened my grip on the case handle until the skin pulled across my knuckles. I let it go a fraction so I could feel the blood come back.
"Ready," he said, without looking down at me.
"Ready," I said back.
The compartment door behind us thudded shut. A prefect up ahead raised a hand for quiet. The carriage door slid. Cold air reached in and touched the skin under my jaw and my wrist where the jumper did not cover. The smell of coal and wet stone came in with it. I stepped forward when the line moved.
Things I had carried for years moved a little out of the centre of my thoughts. I was a boy with a wand and a case and a place to reach that had been a picture in my head for most of my life. I kept my chin level and eyes open and followed Remus onto the platform to meet the life we'd chosen and the work that followed.
We stepped down to the platform. The stone slabs were damp and cold through the soles of my shoes. Yellow carriage lamps showed a line of light along the train. Owls hooted in short bursts; a cat hissed and went quiet. A small boy dragged a trunk too big for him and knocked it into my shin; he mumbled an apology and pulled harder.
I kept close to Remus. He checked behind us once and then set a steady pace. "Staff entrance," he said under his breath. "Keep your wand put away. We are not the first ones off the train."
We crossed to the end of the platform and joined the flow. The path led away between low banks. Torches burned on iron hooks at regular gaps, the oil scent carrying on the wind. Gravel crunched underfoot. Carriages waited in rows beyond a bend. The shafts were harnessed to winged horses with black coats. Their ribs stood out through the skin. Their wings stayed folded and still. I watched one turn its head; the eye was pale and clear. Its breath showed in short clouds. The leather fittings creaked when it shifted, and the metal rings clicked against each other.
"First years, this way!" Hagrid's voice carried from the far side of the path. Lamps bobbed around him. Small figures gathered and peered into the dark towards the lake. The rest of the students moved to the carriages. Prefects counted off and checked names.
Remus angled us past the carriage rank towards a side track. "Over here," he said, low. I followed. The path rose through a stand of trees and levelled out at a set of gates.
Stone pillars flanked them with carved boars on top. The iron bars were thick and cold to the eye, with points set along the top. Runes ran along the crossbar. A narrow wicket gate sat to the left with a small watch box beside it. A lantern hung on a short chain over the door. A draught blew through and moved the flame.
I stopped a couple of paces short of the line where the gate's shadow fell. My chest tightened, the skin on my arms prickled, and the hair along my forearms rose. I took another step and felt a thin pressure across my face. It faded.
Remus looked back. "Everything all right?"
"Yes," I said. "I'm taking it in."
He did not push. Students streamed past us toward the carriages, greeting each other, falling into groups. Some yawned; a few argued over a missing cage or a cracked trunk hinge. They moved with ease. Their feet found the gaps in the stones without looking.
"I don't know if I belong here," I said, very quietly.
"Most people feel that at a gate," Remus said. "It goes."
I looked at the ironwork and the runes cut into the crossbar. Lichen sat in the grooves, and weather had smoothed the edges. The boars' snouts showed marks, and the hinges sat tight in the stone. The place felt old and cared for.
My fingers tightened round the strap of my bag until they hurt; I forced them to loosen.
"Ready?" Remus asked.
"Yes."
We went to the wicket. A wizard in dark robes stood inside the watch box with a ledger. A second lantern hung above his desk. A wand lay beside an ink bottle, and a square brass plate held a small crystal. The crystal glowed faint red, then faded.
"Name," the gate wizard said.
"Remus Lupin. Staff. Guest pass for my ward," Remus answered.
The wizard held the sealed note to a small crystal; it flashed pale blue and chimed. He brought a brass rod close to my wand; it gave a low tone, and a number glowed on its face. The number marked a temporary gate token linked to my wand signature. He noted it in the ledger and said, "Paper checks. Wand signature checks. Ward's clear."
I guessed that the castle's wards and books were sealed the way Remus had described: records that did not answer to the world beyond the walls.
A witch from the back of the box checked the hinge above the gate and loosened a ward with a dry click. A faint pressure brushed my scalp and shoulders and eased. She opened the wicket and stepped back. "Through. Keep to the left until you meet the main drive."
Remus thanked them. We walked under the iron. The air on the other side felt cooler and cleaner. I took a breath into the back of my throat and held it before I let it out.
The path joined the main drive that climbed to the castle. Gravel gave way to packed earth and then to flagstones. A damp stone scent rose from the ground. The sky had gone from pale grey to a darker shade, and the last light clung to the horizon in a narrow band. Bats moved above the lamps. I heard carriages below and the lake beyond the trees.
Remus slowed. "From this bend," he said, "you can see most of it."
We reached the bend, and the view opened. The castle sat on high ground. Many windows were lit; the light was warm and steady through the glass. Towers rose at different heights. The roof lines were clearly defined against the sky. Smoke from several chimneys rose straight up. The outer walls rose directly from the rock; the foundations were visible where the slope fell away.
I stood and looked. A small cold knot remained, but I could breathe through it. My palms were damp. I rubbed my fingertips together and felt the thin film of sweat. I wiped them on my robes and made myself stop.
"It is fine if the first sight feels overwhelming," Remus said quietly.
"I know."
We climbed the last stretch to the inner gate. Lanterns hung from hooks on the arch. A pair of suits of armour stood to either side. Their visors were down. The metal showed fine scratches.
A light pressure crossed my face and arms as we stepped under the arch. The air cooled by a few degrees and pressed lightly across my face. The smell of damp stone and iron sat in the back of my throat.
We moved through the gates together. Heads turned. Voices lowered. Boots scuffed against the flags, then shifted to let us pass. No one used my name. They looked as if they were searching their memory and finding nothing.
I remembered the way photos went blank in albums, the way names slid from conversations. The Charm erased the cue, not the whole world; it made people look past what should be there.
I kept my face still and my pace even. Heat gathered along my neck; I loosened my grip on my bag strap and stayed close to Remus.
"Is this normal?" I said, low.
"You are new," he replied in the same tone. "You will get used to it, or you will stop noticing. It loses force either way."
He walked with a steady step. I matched him and counted three breaths.
We took the main corridor. The flagstones were cool through my soles. Torches burned at even heights and gave a clean light without smoke. Portraits moved and followed us with their eyes; a few mouthed words that did not leave the canvas. A suit of armour tipped its visor a fraction, then stilled. Ahead, the main staircase shifted on its pivots. One flight slid sideways and locked to a landing with a click. Another rotated and met our floor. A prefect at the top checked names on a board and pointed a group to the right.
Remus led me down a side passage. We stopped at a tall wooden door with iron bands. The wood smelled of polish and resin. The hinge pins were bright. He knocked once.
The torches burned steadily. Heat from the fire settled on my face and hands. The floor was polished stone without scuffs, and the ceiling rose high on clean ribs of masonry. Wax and ash hung in the air with a faint trace of parchment and ink.
A witch stood at the far end of the room. Her robes were deep green and properly pressed. A silver brooch fixed her collar on the left. Her hair was drawn tight into a bun without a loose strand. Square spectacles sat level on her nose. She kept her chin straight and her shoulders square. Her eyes moved from Remus to me and held for a measured count.
Remus walked forward at a calm pace. His voice was steady. "Good evening, Minerva."
She gave a short nod. "Mr Lupin."
Remus set his hand on my shoulder, light and sure. "Harry, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and Professor of Transfiguration."
I stepped forward and offered my hand. My palm was damp; I rubbed my thumb along my robe seam and gripped properly. "Pleased to meet you, Professor McGonagall."
Her handshake was firm and exact. Her palm was cool and dry; she released on the second count. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr Potter," she said in a clear Scottish voice. "You will be busy from the first day. There is work to do."
"Thank you, Professor."
She studied my face for a second and then moved to the desk. The desk surface was ordered: parchment stacked with aligned seals. Two quills lay on a tray with the nibs cleaned and bright. A small shaker of sand stood to the right of the blotter. A brass ruler marked the edge of the writing mat. She lifted the top sheet from a stack, checked a line, and set it down again with the corners square.
"You will begin classes with your year group tomorrow," she said. "Allowances will be made while you catch up. If you are uncertain about a procedure, ask a prefect or a member of staff. The timetable will be issued at breakfast."
"Understood," I said.
Her expression eased by a small amount. "You are among people who wish you well."
"Thank you," I said, and meant it.
Remus's mouth lifted slightly. "It is good to see you, Minerva."
"And you," she replied. Her tone softened by a shade and then settled. "I am pleased you have returned to staff. I'm sure you're aware that Dumbledore arranged the post. Temporary cover to help with Defence work and the warding rota. It's formal, signed and lodged. That was part of the plan."
"Yes," he said.
The mantle clock ticked at a regular speed. She turned back to me. "For Transfiguration, precision is required. Clear intent. Careful wand movement. Untidy wand work causes injury. You will keep your notes in order and submit them on time."
"I will take care," I said.
Her eyes went to my hands and back to my face. "Eat at dinner even if you are not hungry. Tired pupils make mistakes. If you feel unwell, go to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey is efficient."
"Very well, Professor."
She looked to Remus. "There is a staff briefing after the Sorting. Mr Lupin, attend, please."
He inclined his head. "Of course."
I let my eyes move round the room while they spoke. A high-backed chair stood by the wall, straight and without a cushion. The desk edges showed no chips. The bookshelf behind held titles on wand movement, material limits, reversal technique, exam standards by year, and classroom safety. Volumes were arranged by height and subject. A tray of teacups sat with all handles at the same angle. A fine line of chalk dust marked the left cuff of her robe. Nothing sat out of place.
She noticed where I was looking. "Discipline keeps pupils safe," she said. "You will find that standard across my classrooms."
"Yes, Professor."
Remus gave a short breath that read as a quiet joke with him. "Try not to turn anyone into a toad," he said. "Best to keep your classmates in their current shapes."
Professor McGonagall's mouth moved by a small degree. She let out a brief sound, then fell quiet. "Quite."
I kept my feet planted and my shoulders level. The fire gave a soft hiss as a log shifted and sent out a little spray of sparks. Heat pressed at my cheeks. My collar felt tight; I loosened it one notch when she looked away. A faint draught from the corridor ran across my ankles. The stone under my shoes felt cool and solid.
McGonagall drew another sheet from a file and checked a list. "Your subjects will include Defence, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, and Astronomy. Catch-up sessions will be scheduled. You will attend them. Mr Lupin will coordinate gaps from previous years."
Remus's answer was even. "I have the list. We will address it step by step."
"Good." She put the file away with a clean motion and aligned its edge with the others. "Do not run on the stairs. If a staircase moves, step back and wait. Do not jump gaps. Portraits may speak to you. Reply politely. Suits of armour may attempt conversation. Do not engage."
"Yes, Professor."
"For written work," she added, "use black ink unless told otherwise. Write the title, date, and subject in the top left. Put your full name on the first line. If you do not know an answer, write what you can prove. Do not guess."
"I understand."
She held my gaze for one count. I kept my posture straight. Sweat had gathered at my collar. I loosened it by a notch when her attention went back to the desk.
"That will do for now." She closed the top drawer, checked the lock on the cabinet with a light touch of her wand, and faced us again. "You will wait in the antechamber until you are called."
"Yes, Professor."
She moved with us to the door. The hinges were oiled and made no sound. The corridor outside held a paler light from lamps with clean glass. Dust on the stone smelled dry and faint. From farther along came a patchwork of footsteps, some quick, some slow, and a single clear bell.
She paused at the threshold. "One last point, Mr Potter. If anyone presses you with questions, refer them to me or to the Headmaster. There is no need to speak beyond what is required."
"I will do that," I said.
"Good." Her mouth eased by a fraction. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Thank you, Professor."
She inclined her head to Remus. "Mr Lupin."
"Professor," he returned.
She walked away. Her steps were even. The sound faded and then stopped. The door closed with a clean click.
Remus gave my shoulder a light squeeze. We stepped into the corridor. The air was cooler than the office, and the torches burned at a steady height without sputter. A faint vibration ran through the stonework, the sort I notice where old wards are strong.
We did not speak. Footfalls and faint door clicks carried along the passage. I set my bag higher on my shoulder and matched Remus's pace.
We took a right, then two lefts, and the passage narrowed before opening again. Tapestries shifted as we passed. A suit of armour tilted its helm a fraction and then went still. A staircase near us rotated with a slow groan and locked into a new position; the handrail trembled under my fingers. I caught Remus's eye.
"Still temperamental," he said in a mild voice.
"I thought staircases would be better trained," I said.
He gave a short laugh. It eased my nerves a little. I kept moving. My shoulders still felt tight, but my steps stayed even. I wanted to be here more than I had let myself admit. I also did not trust that the place would keep me if I relaxed.
We climbed a spiral staircase in close turns. My thighs warmed from the steps. I kept my breathing quiet and steady. At the top we reached a wide landing and an oak door with a griffin knocker. The brass was clean and cool to the touch.
Remus looked at me. "All right?"
I nodded. My mouth felt dry. "I am more worried about the hat," I said.
He smiled at the corner of his mouth and knocked.
The door swung inward without a creak. We entered.
The Headmaster's office held more light than the corridor. A fire burned with a low, even flame. The shelves carried rows of books and boxed instruments with dials that ticked. A slow click came from one brass dial every few seconds. Three telescopes stood on a wheeled stand. A silver device on a side table released a thin line of smoke that curled once and disappeared. The air smelled faintly of beeswax polish, reminding me of the carriage leather, and something sharp and sweet that might have been citrus. Portrait frames filled the walls; many eyes were shut, but lids flickered. On a golden perch, a phoenix sat with its head tucked, feathers bright even in the half-shadow.
A large desk sat near the far window. Papers were stacked but not messy. An open tin of sherbet lemons rested by an inkstand. Behind the desk sat Professor Albus Dumbledore.
His eyes were clear and very focused. He took in Remus, then me, and did not hurry. The lines at the sides of his mouth stayed neutral.
"Harry," he said. "Do come in."
I stepped forward. My heartbeat jolted once and then quickened. Remus closed the door behind us and remained inside, one step to my left.
A low three-legged stool stood near the desk. On the seat lay the Sorting Hat. The brim was worn at the edge; the stitches showed where the felt had been repaired. The leather band had darkened with age. I had seen it in dreams more than once. Facing it at seventeen still felt unfamiliar.
"It is uncommon to sort at your age," Dumbledore said. His tone stayed even. "Given your circumstances, the Hat will place you where you are known and protected by a House. It makes your presence ordinary here—that ordinary is part of the shield."
I swallowed. "All right."
He angled the stool slightly towards me. "Please."
I moved to the stool and sat. The wood felt solid under my weight and did not rock. I put my hands on my knees to keep them still. The hat was heavier than it looked when I lifted it with both hands. The felt was dry and faintly scratchy against my palms. I could smell old dust and something that reminded me of ink.
Remus stood close enough that I could sense him without looking. The phoenix rustled once and went quiet. A portrait to my right pretended to snore.
Dumbledore watched without leaning forward or back. "Ready, Harry?"
I gave one short nod.
I lowered the Hat toward my head. The brim brushed my hair and covered my ears. The lining settled over my crown.
"Well, well, well."
The voice formed close to my ear, rough at the edges and amused. "Not common, this. You are a complicated one, Potter."
I kept still and did not speak.
"Bravery, yes. Loyalty, yes. You hold on to people even when it costs you. You are clever, though you do not always use it for yourself. And ambition is present. You try to press it down, but it is there. You want to make a difference."
I stayed quiet. I was not sure if I was meant to answer, and I did not want to disturb the fit of the Hat on my head.
"This is not only about potential," the Hat said. "You have been shaped. You carry marks from dark magic and from people. You have lost much and spent long stretches alone. You want to be known for more than staying alive."
I tightened my fingers on my knees.
"There are deliberate memory charms across many minds," it went on. "Many should recall you, and they do not. The work is strong, old and exact."
Cold pressed at my chest.
"Yet you are here," it said, quieter. "You keep choosing. You keep acting when you are tired. You are steady."
"Your place is clear. Gryffindor!"
The Hat bellowed the word at once. The sound carried against the stone and then faded.
Hands took the Hat away. I blinked. Professor Dumbledore watched me with a small, steady smile. Behind me, Remus let out a breath.
"Gryffindor," Dumbledore said, giving one firm nod. "Yes."
A small box on the desk opened with a light click. Inside lay a silver badge with a lion picked out in red and gold enamel. He lifted it and held it towards me.
"Welcome, Mr Potter."
He paused and looked over his spectacles. His voice lowered to a private tone. "Your name has been returned to the Hogwarts records, Harry. The change holds within these grounds. Beyond them, the charm remains. The world may not recall you, but our ledgers and lists do, and your House does."
"The Headmaster's register is warded against outside Obliviation." Remus said softly. "I asked for, and received, an exception so Hogwarts can record you without undoing the global protection. No one beyond these walls will recall you unless we choose otherwise."
I heard each word clearly and held onto it. For the first time in years I was entered under my own name. I existed here.
I took the badge. The metal was cool and had a small weight; the pin pressed into my palm. "Thank you, sir."
Remus touched the centre of my back with two fingers. "Told you the Hat knew what it was doing."
I managed a small smile. He opened the door, and we stepped out.
The corridor air was cooler than the office. I could still smell beeswax and old paper on my robe sleeves. "Right," Remus said, already moving. "I will give you a quick sense of the place before I change my mind again unexpectedly."
"I am not sure that is a joke," I said.
"Neither am I," he replied, not breaking stride.
Torches burned without smoke. The light was warm but did not reach every corner. The stone under my shoes felt hard and slightly uneven; the soles gave off a soft scrape with each step. The walls were rough to the touch if I brushed them with my fingertips. A draught slid along the floor from a far stairwell. From below, a low swell of voices rose and fell. It was too muffled to catch words.
Portraits lined the passage. A wizard in plum robes leaned his cheek on one hand and followed us with his eyes. Oil on the canvas caught the torchlight along his sleeve. A witch in travelling gear shut her book, glanced at Remus, and then looked at me with open interest. Two children in a small landscape frame pointed and whispered. The sound was not unkind, but it held attention. I kept my gaze forward.
"You will find the building follows regular patterns," Remus said as we took a tight turn up a narrow stair that curved to the right. "Do not argue with the staircases. Step off when they stop, even if it is not where you meant to be. Ask a portrait for directions if you need to. They will help more often than not."
We turned left at a long window. Night had taken the grounds; torch lines showed paths as thin bands of light. I could make out the dark shapes of trees and the faint shine of water far off. The glass felt cold when I set my knuckles against it for balance.
"Everyone loses their bearings in the first week," Remus added. "Do not worry if you do."
"I am already lost," I said, as evenly as I could.
"That puts you ahead," he said, and his mouth twitched.
We passed a suit of armour that lifted its visor a finger's width and lowered it again. The hinge ticked. A tapestry beside it showed a group of wizards in old dress trying to subdue a large plant with long, toothy pods. One wizard waved his arms and then froze, mid-flail, when he noticed me looking. I looked away.
On each floor, the separate sounds were easier to tell apart. Somewhere a clock struck the quarter with a soft, measured note. From another corridor came a burst of laughter and the clap of a door. The air held a mix of stone, wool, hot iron from a torch sconce, and a faint trace of baking that must have drifted up from the kitchens.
A short staircase slid to the right as we stepped onto it. The movement was slow and gave warning through the rail. We waited for it to settle. I breathed out and felt some part of my chest ease for the first time since the Hat. The badge warmed in my palm. I pinned it to my robes. The metal caught the torchlight and flashed red and gold.
"Better?" Remus asked.
"A bit," I said.
"Good." He slowed and tipped his head, listening. "You'll learn which portraits give directions and which like to keep to themselves, and you'll learn the stair cycles."
We turned down another passage. On the wall ahead, a row of small brass lamps burned with clear, steady flames. The light showed pale dust along the floor where few feet passed. When I brushed the edge with my shoe, a thin line cleared. The air here was still.
My pulse settled to a steady count I could match with my steps. Forward. No noise in my head. One thing at a time.
A final set of steps led up to a landing marked by a stone arch. Beyond it, the corridor opened wider. Murmured voices drifted from a far bend and faded again.
Remus looked back at me. His eyes checked my face the way they always did, not intrusively, just to make sure I was present. "Keep close," he said in a quiet voice. "We will take it section by section."
I nodded. My throat felt tight, but my feet were firm on the stone.
We walked on.
We stopped before a pair of enormous wooden doors carved with runes and the school crest. I recognised the lion and the badger. The other two—a snake and a bird—I could only guess at.
"This is the Great Hall," said Remus, pushing the doors open with both hands.
I took one step inside and halted. Warmth from hundreds of candles reached my face; melted wax gave off a faint sweet smell.
The hall was large. The enchanted ceiling showed the sky outside in precise detail. Sunset slid into dusk; the clouds edged gold and grey. Long tables ran the length of the floor, and their polished surfaces reflected the candles that hung in neat rows above. At the far end, a high table sat on a dais with high-backed chairs carved with House symbols.
"Meals are taken here," Remus said, his tone easy, used to this reaction. "Also assemblies, exams, and ceremonies. You will get used to it."
I was not sure I would. He led me out before I could ask whether the ceiling always displayed the sky.
"The classrooms are spread across the castle," he went on, setting a pace that forced me to keep close. "Charms is taught by Professor Flitwick. He is small, precise, and very skilled. You have the basics with me, enough not to look lost. You will learn the rest."
I nodded. I still was not clear where Charms ended and other spellwork began, but I kept that to myself.
He indicated a tall door on the left. "Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall's class. It is complex. She will expect focus and control."
Another turn. Another staircase that tilted a fraction under our feet and then settled.
"Potions are in the dungeons," he said. "Cold. Damp. Several ingredients react to heat or contact; leave sealed jars closed unless instructed."
We passed a tapestry with a wizard showing goblins a formal dance. The figures stamped and bowed in a set pattern. One goblin glanced at me and then returned to the step.
"History of Magic is upstairs," Remus said. "Compulsory. Professor Binns teaches. He is a ghost."
"A ghost?" I turned my head.
"He passed on a long time ago and returned to the classroom. He speaks at one pace. Take notes; have tea if you need help staying focused."
He showed me the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom—his—and then the library behind tall carved doors. The air in the doorway smelt of paper, leather, and dust. My shoes sounded duller on the wooden boards just inside. The silence was strict; no casual whisper carried.
"You will be in there often," Remus said. "Madam Pince is in charge. Treat the books with care."
That made sense. I protected what few books I had.
We kept moving. Down a passage behind a statue of a one-eyed witch, past a group of third-years arguing with a painting that would not admit them. The painted figure folded his arms and looked away until they corrected the password.
"Each House has its own dormitories and common room," Remus said. "You are in Gryffindor. The password is Flarewood. It changes each week. The Fat Lady guards the entrance. She sings. Do not remark on the pitch."
I must have looked as out of my depth as I felt, because he slowed and studied my face.
"You will learn it," he said, gentler now. "Give it time. Hogwarts makes room. Even when it does not seem to."
I nodded. I was not sure my voice would work.
We stepped outside for the last stretch. The grounds opened out in long lines of grass that rolled down to the water and up to the forest. The air smelt of cut grass, damp soil, and cold stone from the wall behind. A faint metallic tang hung in the air, the taste of fresh spellwork.
Remus pointed towards a distant oval with three tall hoops at each end. A crosswind moved the pennants at the far stand in short jerks. "Quidditch pitch: dangerous. Popular."
I gave no answer. He rarely let me near a broom. Safety had to sit above everything else.
He nodded at the dark treeline. "The Forbidden Forest. Entry is banned for students."
Beyond the trees, the Black Lake showed a broad surface with small ripples moving in clean lines. Something disturbed the water and slipped out of sight. It could have been a tail or a fin.
"And up there," Remus said, pointing to the highest turret, "is the Owlery. If you need to send a letter."
There was more. Herbology had large greenhouses behind the castle, their glass panes streaked and beaded. The Hospital Wing sat along a corridor with windows that faced the lawn; beds in a row, screens neatly folded at each end. Remus's face tightened when he mentioned a room that appeared when needed. He did not explain how to summon it. I logged the details and left it there.
It was a lot. Names, rooms, rules. My head struggled to hold the order of it.
We circled back to the Entrance Hall. Stone flags spread beneath our feet, worn smooth by years of use. Torches burned in iron brackets. The ceiling rose high. Doors stood in a line: the Great Hall, classrooms, and a corridor that ran towards the back stair.
Remus checked his watch. "Staff meeting in five minutes. Will you be all right on your own?"
I hesitated. I wanted him to go over it again, slower, with a map. He had work.
I squared my shoulders and tried a steady smile. "Yes. I'll manage."
He held my gaze a second longer, then nodded. "If you need anything, my office is on the second floor. The staff room is near the Defence corridor, behind the portrait with too many keys. Ask. Do not wait."
"I will."
He squeezed my shoulder and took the nearest staircase.
The Entrance Hall went still around me. The candle flames shifted a fraction. From somewhere above came a low grind of stone.
I took one breath, then another. The badge felt cool against my chest. I let the cold settle into me. For the first time in years I had a name to wear.