Days Go By

DAYS GO BY

CHAPTER ONE: Family Ties

Remus Lupin was sitting on a stool with a talking hat on his head while at least three hundred people looked on. He had been waiting for this moment for the better part of his boyhood, but sitting up there felt a bit awkward all the same.

The hat was talking, but not to Remus. It was making comments to itself about Remus's nature. 'Good mind,' it muttered, 'quite introverted. . .'

The latter comment annoyed Remus a bit. 'I'm not that introverted, that is, if introverted means what I think it means,' thought Remus.

'Oh you're not?' The hat's voice had a more booming quality, now that it was addressing Remus directly. 'Well, for your information, it doesn't mean what you think it means. I suggest you look the term up; it isn't a fancy word for shy.'

'I will, um, sir,' thought Remus to the hat, bewildered by how much the hat seemed to know about the contents of his brain.

The hat went on. 'In any case, I've been on your head for nearly half a minute now, and you've not deigned to think a word to me till now! Haven't you any opinion about which House you want to be Sorted into?'

'Er. . .'

'I thought you'd think something along those lines. You would do quite well in Ravenclaw, or perhaps Hufflepuff.'

'My father was in Ravenclaw.'

'So you think you belong there, do you?'

Remus had no idea.

'Your mind is strong, but your heart is stronger. You are loyal to your friends, and listen to your parents. You have respect for tradition, but you do not let it rule you. And you're nice," added the hat with a hint of a chuckle, if an enchanted object can be said to have done such a thing. 'I'd say your best bet is. . . GRYFFINDOR!'

The rightmost table burst out cheering, and Remus made his way toward it. The students at the table were definitely Gryffindors; something about their swift, impulsive movements and fast-darting eyes made Remus sure of that. They seemed like a nice enough bunch.

Remus accepted congratulations and pats on the back from several older Gryffindors before heading over to the part of the table where the other freshly sorted first years were.

There were four new Gryffindors already, three of them girls. Remus sat next to the boy, who looked as if he could use some company.

The boy took a sideward glance at Remus. "Hullo," he said.

"Hullo," said Remus. Remus noted the boy's face was devoid of excitement. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," said the boy, drawing himself up a little, as if to emphasize the fact that he most definitely was all right. "I mean, you can't get yourself sorted into a house just to spite your mum, can you? The hat's got to have more reasoning behind putting you somewhere than that."

"Of course it's got to," Remus said. What else was he supposed to say?

"My logic exactly. 'Cos the thing is. . ." The boy paused. "What's your name?"

"Remus."

"Surname?"

"Lupin."

"I'm Sirius Black." Sirius ran his fingers through his dark hair, looking slightly unsettled, after the two boys shook hands. "Are you a Mudblood?"

Remus winced slightly at Sirius's use of the less than tasteful term for wizards from non-magical families. But the expression on the boy's face was inquiring, with no trace of arrogance or disdain. Remus decided---hoped, rather---that it was simply Sirius's upbringing talking. He was a Black, after all. "No," said Remus, "I'm not."

"So people in your family attended Hogwarts, yeah?"

Remus nodded.

"So, in your family, is practically everyone in one house? Like Gryffindor, were all your relatives in Gryffindor?"

Remus thought on the matter for a moment. "Not at all, actually. An awful lot of my father's family members were in Ravenclaw. As for my mum's side..."

Remus decided not to finish the sentence. Remus's relations on his mum's side were Muggles, but he wasn't about to tell Sirius Black that.

"Me, I'm expecting a Howler, or worse, for ending up here," Sirius said unhappily. "Not that I mind being brave and true, but my family would prefer it, evidently, if I were a bit more, I don't know, Slytherin." Sirius bit his lower lip, frowning. "I don't know what they're going to do to me. Remus, you don't know how lucky you've got it, not having these kinds of expectations on your back."

"How lucky I've got it!" Remus gave Sirius an incredulous look. Him, Remus Lupin, lucky? That was a new one.

"Yeah. Insomuch as this Sorting business is concerned, anyway. Anyhow, how'd you find the ride up here, on the Hogwarts Express?"

The conversation continued in this vein, covering inconsequential topics, until the hat bellowed "GRYFFINDOR!" once more. The two boys leaped up and cheered as loudly as the rest for the newest addition to their house, "Pettigrew, Peter." No sooner had they sat back down than the hat cried out their house's name again.

"Looks like it's not going to be just the five of us after all," Remus commented.

Sirius, who had a short attention span, abandoned whatever he and Remus had been discussing before, and started talking about his cousin, Andromeda, and how she only had five housemates in her year. He was to be rudely interrupted by the arrival of the two boys that had just been sorted into their house.

"Well how now?" With this comment, one of the boys saluted all with a wave of his hand. He was a short and stocky fellow, with a pink face and dark blond hair. He turned a pair of mischievous eyes upon Sirius. "Sirius Black! What are the odds? Surely you must've noticed the confused whispers after you'd been sorted. Sirius Black, a Black, in Gryffindor. Everyone was thinking. . ." Here the pink-faced boy paused for effect. "You can't be serious!" And he laughed heartily at the joke, the other boy laughing along with him. He'd grabbed the girls' attention; they were giggling, too.

Sirius gave a tight, obligatory smile.

The pink-faced boy excused his tactlessness, grinning toothily: "I couldn't resist. It was a once in a lifetime chance."

The tall boy who had come with the pink-faced boy spoke, finally. Remus was beginning to think he was a mute, or something. "He was laughing about it to himself back there, when we were still waiting to be sorted." He shook his head in mock-disappointment. "That's Peter Pettigrew for you. There's really no need to ever take him seriously. No pun intended." He extended his hand to Sirius, somewhat pompously. "I'm James Potter."

Sirius took it. "Obviously, I'm Sirius."

The girls cackled shrilly. There were four of them, now. The lameness of the joke began to dawn on the other three boys.

"Getting old yet? Every next person I meet thinks they're the first to notice how wonderful a pun my name is. Named after my great-uncle Sirius. Merlin! Why couldn't he have had a normal name?"

"Normal meaning what?" Remus asked, for the sake of argument.

"Aren't you contrary," said Sirius, amiably. "I mean, with a name like Robert or something."

Peter chuckled. "Great Uncle Bob Black? That's pretty weird itself. BOB. Great Uncle Billy Bob Black Sounds like the name of one of those Muggle Americans who've always got those horses and those hats. You know them, right?"

Sirius, Remus, and James looked at Peter with blank expressions.

"Come on! You know, those Muggles who use horses to get around. With the big hats." Here Peter indicated the shape of the hats with his hands. "And they've got rope that's twisted all funny and they're always saying 'Yee-haw.'"

"Pete, you know about the most random things," said James. Remus and Sirius, equally in the dark about what Peter was talking about, agreed.

A girl with too-long red hair on Sirius's right turned to look at Peter. "You mean cowboys, don't you?"

"Thank you! Yes, cowboys."

"Oh," James said, "but weren't they found a bit further south?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, like in Mexico, or South America. They were wizards, also. Not Muggles!"

"And they had Hippogriffs, not horses," Remus added, thoughtfully. Suddenly, a smile lit up his face. "But those cowboys did have names like Great Uncle Billy Bob Black! At least the American and British ones did."

"I knew I remembered that much," Peter asserted.

"I had a book of stories about one Wild Ken Hacksworth. A great man. An Englishman, although the Americans try to claim him as one of their own. He rode through the wilds of Darkest Peru on the back of his Hippogriff steed, Bulworth. With his partner Jose Luis de la Hacienda by his side, he helped rid the farms of the brave Spanish pioneers of the invasive evil presented by the Nogtails. Good stuff. A legend, that Ken Hacksworth. In fact. . ." He turned to Peter. "What? What is it?"

Peter had started cracking up about halfway through James's narrative. "It's not what you're saying. It's how you're saying it. All majestic-like. I could practically hear the orchestral swell in the background."

James offered a rueful grin, and turned to the front of the Great Hall. "Ah, finally it's Dumbledore. He's Headmaster here, you know. I was beginning to think the Sorting would never end. Finally we can eat."

Dumbledore's speech was brief, and soon enough, the boys were able to feast on Hogwarts's fine fare. As it turned out, there were no more additions to the first year Gryffindor roster after James. The eight newcomers could hear their older housemates complaining about how few first years had been sorted into Gryffindor. The new Gryffindors felt a bit bad, as if the smallness of their group was their fault, somehow, but they didn't dwell on the feeling for long.

The banquet gradually wound down. People were leaving. The Gryffindor first years began to fret. A girl with frizzy blonde hair was asking, "Where do we go now?" A passing fourth year told her that they ought to go to Gryffindor Tower, but nobody among the first years knew where that was.

The blonde girl was whining. "What now?"

James stood up, drawing attention to himself. "I say we simply pick a group of Gryffindors and follow them," he said. "They're bound to go to Gryffindor Tower."

"But if they go to the library or somewhere besides Gryffindor Tower," the blonde girl argued, "we'd be absolutely lost."

"I say it's worth it," Sirius said. "I mean, nobody's going anywhere other than Gryffindor Tower at this hour, anyway."

James was glad for the support. "All right then. Let's follow the next bunch that leaves."

The blonde girl rolled her eyes. "This is stupid. Why don't we all just wait here? I'm sure they've got some way organized for us to get to the Tower. Look, all the other first years from the other houses are still here."

Everyone looked. It was true. All the other first years appeared to still be there.

James got himself ready to be persuasive. "Amelia. It's Amelia isn't it? My father told me that Hogwarts is no hand-holding place. You've got to think for yourself here. Maybe this is some kind of a test. A test to see whether we can think on our feet, you know?"

He looked to the other boys for back up. All of them nodded, and Remus grinned. Test, his hind foot.

"And if it is a test for self reliance," Peter piped up, "I don't want to be the one to fail it."

"And if it isn't then, well, no harm done," Sirius finished. "So. You with us, or what?"

"We'll take the 'or what,' Black," Amelia said smugly, not bothering to consult with the other girls. Remus noticed that the little dark haired girl across from Amelia looked as if she didn't fully approve of Amelia's speaking for all of them. The annoyance was only apparent on her face for a moment; the next instant she was smiling like never before, into Amelia's face.

Sirius shrugged. "Suit yourselves."

"James, look!" Peter tapped James's shoulder. "Those girls at the end of the table---they're leaving."

Simultaneously, the boys got up and walked as fast as dignity would allow them toward the exit, all the while keeping their eyes on the group of girls they planned to follow.

But their adventure was to end almost as soon as it started.

"Whoa! Hold up there, you four!" A tall, pretty girl was rushing toward them, worry apparent on her brown face. "Thank goodness I found you before you got yourselves lost and us all in detention!"

She looked over to the Gryffindor table. "Right. Okay, your female counterparts are coming. Right. I am Lakshmi Chandra. You may call me Laksh, you may call me 'Shmi, you may call me Chandra. But you may not call me Sandra. Laugh, if you want, but people have tried it more than once."

The girls arrived, accompanied by a bald boy even taller than Lakshmi Chandra.

"Well, you sure took your time, Kingsley."

"Don't even talk to me about taking time," Kingsley said. He turned to the girls. "This one," he said, indicating Lakshmi, "is always late. You can call her Sandra by the way; it's her British name."

"Is not!" Lakshmi gave Kingsley a playful swat.

He laughed. Addressing the boys, he said, "I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt. Lakshmi and I are your sixth year prefects. We've been given the honor of showing you to Gryffindor Tower."

Kingsley started walking, indicating the way. "We prefects are always around if you need guidance in your first few weeks here, so don't hesitate to ask. It's our job. Well, part of it, anyway."

Lakshmi was walking backwards. She insisted upon keeping eye contact with the youngsters, for reasons nobody other than her could fully understand. It got awkward when they got to climbing stairs, and she did bump into the occasional hanging tapestry, but she kept at it. "My first piece of advice to you would be to stay out of trouble. Don't go walking round places not knowing where you're going. And definitely not at night. If a Ravenclaw prefect catches you, you'll get a week's detention, easy." She paused, making a face that expressed her loathing of the said prefects. "No mercy. No mercy whatsoever."

"You know," said Kingsley, to Lakshmi, "they're trying to give prefects the power to dock points?"

Lakshmi looked interested. "Really? Who's trying?"

"Head Boy and Head Girl. They're trying to convince the powers that be that it's necessary. Good old Malfoy. Best disciplinarian in the world when it comes to Gryffindors."

Lakshmi noted two of the students, the red haired girl and the short girl, had fallen behind and taken a wrong turn. "No, no, not that way. Up this way. We're almost there."

"Shmi," said Kingsley, "did you hear what I said?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Lakshmi said, to the other prefect. The rest of her tirade was for the first years' benefit. "They're both Slytherins, you know. The Heads. That shouldn't be allowed. They're a right evil lot, those Slytherins. But you all know that. Pretty much every wizard that went to Hogwarts that turned out to be evil and got caught was in Slytherin while they were here. Y'do get what I mean, right?"

The first years nodded, some more readily than others. Kingsley nudged Lakshmi, giving her a meaningful look. He indicated Sirius with a jerk of his head.

"'Course, all Slytherins don't come out evil. Obviously."

At the mention of Slytherin House, Sirius had started paying closer attention to what the prefects were saying. Noting Sirius's sudden solemnity, the other boys had stopped talking, and had started listening, too. Lakshmi's last comment and whom it was intended for was lost on nobody.

Sirius's grey eyes grew hard as slate, and his face became unreadable.

The group walked in silence until they reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

"You've got to tell her the password, or she won't let you in," Kingsley told the first years, indicating a wizard painting of a fat lady in a pink dress. He turned to the Fat Lady, and said, in a strong, deep, password-saying voice, "Leni Lenape."

"Welcome, dears," the Fat Lady said, as she let the group in.

Once inside the Tower, Lakshmi directed the girls through one door, and Kingsley directed the boys through another.

Once in their dormitory, where their bags were waiting for them, the four boys changed into their pajamas, got into their neatly made, identical beds, and proceeded to talk for the better part of the night. This turned out to be completely and utterly inadvisable.

***

Gladys Filch was prepared. She had a clean length of parchment and two primed quills, one regular, and one sugar. These were at the ready for note taking. Her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi was open to the section on ground mushrooms, the topic she was confident their Herbology class would be taking up first. Class had yet to start, though, so these tools lay idle whilst Gladys chatted idly with her fellow Gryffindors.

The first year Gryffindor girls had been early to class. They had introduced themselves to Professor Hibiscus, taken their seats, and spent several minutes assessing the Hufflepuffs from across the greenhouse.

"Well," said Charlotte, "they seem nice, I suppose."

"Nice, yes," Amelia said, "in a dull sort of way."

"Yes, of course," said Charlotte hurriedly. She had a frail voice, and always sounded as if she was apologising for something.

"I don't know, girls," said Lily lowering her voice, "they're not all that dull. Look at that fellow. Second row. The one with the dark curly hair. He's rather fit. Now don't everyone look at once, but. . ."

Everyone did look at once.

"Oh, him," said Amelia, "Edgar Bones. Our parents know each other." She beamed. "He is so good-looking, isn't he?"

Lily nudged Gladys. "What do you make of him?"

"He's all right."

"All right?" Amelia gave Gladys an exaggeratedly shocked look. "Just all right?"

"He's exactly all right;" Gladys said, "he's worth a second look but not a third." Gladys paused, surveying the other side of the room for something more interesting. She noticed that the professor had been hobnobbing with Edgar and the other Hufflepuffs for some time. "Hey, how come Hibiscus is talking so much with them? When we tried to make small talk with the woman it didn't work at all."

"Professor Hibiscus is the head of Hufflepuff house," Amelia put in.

"Ah," said Gladys. Teachers had House loyalties, too, evidently.

"There are so many more of them than us," said Charlotte, "that may have something to do with it."

"Charlotte," Lily said, "I think maybe it just seems like there's so many of them because so many of us are, well, not here yet."

Nine o'clock, the time class would start, was growing steadily nearer, and the boys were still nowhere to be found. "Brilliant," said Amelia, sounding very much like Lakshmi Chandra, "Professor Hibiscus is going to dock points from Gryffindor for sure if they're late."

Gladys wanted to stick a sock in Amelia's mouth. Or a particularly nasty variety of mushroom. It was true, if the boys didn't show up on time, there would be lost points, and, more importantly, a lost opportunity for the new Gryffindors to make a good first impression on Hibiscus. However, there was no good in bellyaching about it. There was nothing they girls could do about the matter. Aloud, Gladys said nothing.

"I think she seems nice," said Lily. Lily was Muggle-born, and full of good intentions and positive thoughts about all things wizarding. Gladys liked Lily, and pitied her. Last night, on the way to Gryffindor Tower, Lily had spoken of the wizarding world as if it were a magical place, free of war, hunger, discrimination, and other evils characteristic of the world she knew. She was right about the magical bit, but dead wrong about the rest. Gladys knew Lily must eventually be disillusioned, and that experience would hurt.

Amelia gave Lily a superior sort of smile. "Nice enough not to take off points for lateness?"

"No," said Lily, rather reluctantly, "I suppose not."

"But I hope so," Gladys said, and her companions agreed.

Professor Hibiscus began class on time. She was old and tired-looking, with long, coarse white hair, which she wore in a ponytail. She started the class by taking a roll call. "Orville Abbott," she read.

Orville raised his hand.

"Sirius Black."

"Here!" Sirius's voice called from the back of the greenhouse. He and his three companions shuffled to the front of the classroom post haste.

"We're so sorry," said James. His face was flushed and his eyes were shining. He didn't look sorry at all.

"We asked for directions from the wrong ghost," Remus explained.

"Peeves is a poltergeist." Hibiscus gave a slow, sleepy Mona Lisa smile, then continued with the roll. The four of them scrambled to their seats.

Gladys was vaguely dreading having her name called. It came quickly, though, bringing with it only a few questioning glances from the Hufflepuffs. The Gryffindors, the girls at least, knew already.

"So," Amelia had said at the banquet, the night before, "you're related to the caretaker here then?"

It was the first thing anybody had said to her, after she'd been Sorted. The two of them had been Sorted one after another. Fawcett, then Filch. "Yeah. My uncle."

"That must be so. . .interesting for you."

"Yeah," Gladys had responded, "interesting like a train wreck."

Gladys started disliking Amelia at that point, and nothing that had transpired since then had done anything to change her opinion on the matter.

Herbology was dull, especially since Hibiscus had planned a dry, What is Herbology? lesson for them. Some students had entered the greenhouse expecting not to like Herbology, many left it knowing they wouldn't. Gladys was among their number.

Transfiguration was next, and none of the Gryffindor first years knew where Professor McGonagall's room was. They wandered the halls aimlessly, walking in four pairs, all of them going in the same direction. Sirius and Remus were in front, and were therefore nominally leading the way. Amelia and her shadow, Charlotte, were next, followed by Peter and James. Lily and Gladys brought up the rear, as usual.

Sirius was in front, so everyone saw when he was accosted.

"Sirius!" a female voice called.

He tried changing directions, and shielding himself with Remus's body, but it was no use. He'd been spotted.

"Come, come, Andromeda, we must say hello to our dear cousin. Sirius! Siri, darling!" Two older girls made their way over to Sirius from across the hallway.

"Hullo Andromeda, Narcissa," said Sirius, looking rather sour.

From the way Sirius had hullo-ed, it was apparent which girl was Narcissa and which was Andromeda. Whatever was going on seemed interesting. Gladys and Lily slowed down, and listened in.

"The strangest things are going on this year," Narcissa was saying. "This whole you being sorted into Gryffindor debacle has to be the oddest. You poor thing. You should have seen us, Siri, the whole table all ready to cheer when you joined us Slytherins."

"Actually," Andromeda said, her voice at least an octave lower than Narcissa's, "I was hoping you'd end up a fellow 'Claw. Cissy and me actually had a bet---"

"We had nothing of the kind, Andromeda," Narcissa countered. "I for one was just kidding. Betting is vulgar, Sirius, don't ever." She paused for a moment, studying Sirius's face. "Honestly, this is madness. What next? Bella in Hufflepuff next year?"

At this point, Remus tried to drift away, but Sirius stopped Remus by grabbing Remus's shoulder and saying, wearily, "Just a minute. Please?" After making sure his friend was not going anywhere, Sirus said, to Narcissa, "I'm sure you don't have to worry about that. She's definitely Slytherin material, that Bellatrix."

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean. We're Blacks. We're all supposed to be Slytherin material. Except for the ivory tower freaks that get Sorted into Ravenclaw every two centuries or so."

Andromeda raised her eyebrows at Narcissa. "Every two centuries, you say?"

"Yes, yes, I know. Grandfather was a Ravenclaw, and so was Cousin Frances. Same thing. All three of you are deviations from the norm. But Siri here is something else. Something worse. He's a. . .a. . ."

Narcissa's hazel eyes strayed from the faces of her companions. Down the hall, she'd spotted something she fancied. She yanked her long blonde hair out of its ponytail, and tucked it behind her ears. "Hi Lucius!" she cried, with a rather overenthusiastic wave.

Lucius was navigating the halls with his Head Girl counterpart, Marissa Flint. Rumor had it that their relationship extended quite a bit beyond their shared duties. Lucius glanced at Narcissa and gave a dutiful nod in her direction, acknowledging her. Andromeda also received a nod; she and Lucius were in the same year.

Narcissa turned to Andromeda. "He's mine. That---woman---can carouse around with him all she wants, but in the end he's going to be mine." She turned to Sirius, catching him just as he was trying to drift away. "It's all arranged---more or less."

Narcissa's face fell. It appeared as if the most horrible thought in the world had just come to her. "Andy? The Flints aren't old money, are they?"

Gladys looked over at Lily. "This is getting a bit lame," she said. "Let's go?"

Lily nodded, her eyes on Narcissa. "Wouldn't it be heavenly to look that lovely when you're sad?"

"Maybe," said Gladys, "but I'd rather not be sad at all."

"Sadness itself is lovely, sometimes."

Gladys gave an ambiguous "hmn." What strange theories this Evans girl had!

As Gladys and Lily passed the other group, they waved to Sirius and poor Remus, who had not been able to detach himself from Sirius throughout the discussion, despite his best efforts.

Sirius used the opportunity to tell his cousins that he had Transfiguration class with these two girls, and he really had to go. Andromeda told Sirius how to get to McGonagall's classroom, and then she and her sister set off walking, without saying goodbye.

Gladys, Lily, Remus, and Sirius started to make their way to the Transfiguration classroom. Though all four of them were walking in the same row, Sirius and Remus carried on as if the girls were not there.

"You suck," said Remus, "I haven't the foggiest idea why you forced me to stand there while you maintain your Black family ties. You owe me one."

"What do you mean, Black family ties?" Sirus threw his hands up in the air. "I haven't got any of those! There aren't any two way ties between me and them, at least, if that makes sense."

"It doesn't."

"It does, you're just slow. Think about it." Sirius tapped the side of his own head mockingly.

"I have. Really. There is no such thing as a two-way tie. Your analogy doesn't really hold up."

"You don't really hold up."

"That sounds vaguely nasty."

"I know." Sirius grinned. "You know what? I reckon I have it worse than you. You had to stand around and listen to that conversation, true. But now I owe you one, you see. But me, poor me. I had to actually participate in that weird conversation, and I've not even got anyone owing me one to show for it."

"Boo-hoo."

"You're a callous one, Lupin."

"That's me." And Remus shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes in a very callous manner.

Lily had been looking as if she had been thinking about how to make inroads into their discussion for some time. Now, she made her move.

"Now it wasn't that bad," she said, "Sirius, your cousins seem wonderful."

Sirius feigned confusion. "Cousins? What cousins?"

"Those two older girls you were just talking to. The ones that gave you the directions to McGonagall's classroom."

"Now why would you suppose those two. . .individuals. . .were my cousins, eh? They don't look any more like me than, say, your little friend there."

Gladys wondered who the hell Sirius Black thought he was to go off calling her Lily's 'little friend' like that. She scowled at him, and hoped he would take notice. He didn't.

Lily was trying to explain herself. "Well, I just happened to overhear---"

"Happened to overhear, she says! Lupin, I do believe we have ourselves an eavesdropper. A snoop, yeah?"

"That's not fair," said Lily, "it's not like that at all."

"Well then, Evans, tell me what it is like, because, frankly, I don't get it."

There was no explanation. Lily looked to Gladys for help, but Gladys had none to give.

"That's what I thought. See, I know that I was talking in a public hallway, but you see, private conversations do go on in public hallways."

"And we generally don't listen to other people's private conversations," Remus added.

"And why is that?" Sirus let the question hang for a moment, though he knew he would be the one to answer it. "Because it's rude! Evans, when you listen to things you oughtn't to listen to, you often hear things people don't wish you to hear. That's why snooping's frowned upon. Even when people are talking about unimportant things. Like cowboys."

Lily turned crimson. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Don't think we haven't forgotten. Especially now."

Remus sniggered. "I remember that. She leaned right over and told Pete what was what."

"There," said Lily, triumphantly, "at least I was helpful."

"No hard feelings," Sirius said, "but that has got to be the lamest excuse for being a snoop I've heard in a good long while. Fact is, maybe if you had somebody less boring to converse with, you wouldn't need to mooch off our conversations so much."

"I'm no more boring than your mum, Black," said Gladys, with a bitter parody of a smile to match his own.

"You ought to thank Heaven for that, Filch," Sirius said, "as my mum has got to be the most boring and repetitive witch ever to grace the British Isles."

The group had reached McGonagall's classroom, and Sirius held the door open saying, "Ladies first. That means you, Lupin. Heh. Now don't look so cross, girls. When Sirius Black says no hard feelings, he means no hard feelings, yeah?"

But all the same, hard feelings were felt, particularly by Lily, who later declared Sirius Black to be the most horrible boy she had ever encountered. Gladys, after some deliberation, was compelled to agree with Lily's assessment.

Transfiguration managed to raise both their spirits somewhat. Both girls were dizzy with excitement at the prospect of changing an object's form with just a flick of their wands and a few magic words. Unlike Hibiscus, Professor McGonagall had their class working on their first spell almost as soon as class began. She was bright and friendly, but firm. Their task was to turn an apple into a peach. Most of the students got their apple to change shape fairly quickly.

"Now," McGonagall said, after about five minutes, "eat it."

Lily blanched. She looked at her apple-turned-peach as if for the first time. She turned to Gladys. "She expects us to actually eat this thing?"

Gladys picked up her peach aggressively. "I'll try mine first."

She closed her eyes and took a bite. She chewed slowly, screwing up her face a little in surprise and disgust. Though the fruit had the look of a peach, it still had the taste and consistency of an apple.

McGonagall walked over to where the two girls were sitting. "I see you've discovered an important lesson about Transfiguration," she said, smiling. "Transfiguration is more than just words and wandwork. It requires focus. You must have the nature of the object you desire firmly in mind, and focus on it. Only then will you get true transfigurations. Try again now, all of you."

McGonagall muttered a few words and waved her wand, and all the peaches became apples again. It took Gladys a long time to get the spell just right. Lily got it before her. So did Amelia and all the boys but Peter. After a time, Lily picked up a newly formed peach of Gladys's and tried it.

She chewed thoughtfully. "Stop worrying, it's perfectly fine," she said, after she'd swallowed.

"Mine always have an apple aftertaste though," Gladys protested.

Lily shrugged. "Everyone's does. What can McGonagall expect? It's just our first day of class."

Gladys dropped her wand on the table and stretched. "You're right," she said. Gladys was glad Lily had stopped her killing herself trying to conjure up the perfect peach. She probably would have continued for the entire class period if Lily hadn't stepped in. Gladys wasn't sure if Lily was telling the truth about everyone's peach having as bad an apple aftertaste as Gladys's did, but the comment was supposed to make her feel better, and it had worked.

Lunch was short, and History of Magic disgustingly long. The class was taught by an ancient professor called Binns who droned in a monotone without moving his lips. To make matters worse, seats were assigned. Gladys had to sit between Amelia and Remus. She and Amelia remained attentive for the entire class, beating the odds. Remus, however, failed in his half-hearted attempt to stay awake.

"Gladys?" Remus spoke in a whisper, his eyes half closed. This was about halfway through class.

"What?" She did not even deign to look in his direction.

"I'm awfully tired. Me and the guys stayed up so late talking, and I think I'm coming down with something."

"Bully for you." Gladys's tone did not match the coldness of her words. He really did look like hell.

"So. Do you think I could copy your notes during dinner, maybe? Pete and James aren't doing much of anything useful back there, and Sirius has been out cold for ages, you see."

Gladys wanted to say no, because he'd been with Sirius earlier. But he did look so tired, and his eyes seemed affected by that special breed of weariness that Gladys had thought that only people recovering from fever experienced. She nodded, feeling like a traitor even as she did so, despite the noble rationale for her decision.

"Thanks," said Remus with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "You can sleep as much as you want, if you want, next class. I'll copy your notes for you next time round, all right?"

Gladys nodded, but seriously doubted she trusted him enough to call him on his promise.

At dinner, Gladys grabbed an apple and put it into her pocket. If she had time, she wanted to practice Transfiguration, later. After several minutes of eating and conversation, she left, not telling anyone she was going. She liked knowing that soon enough, the people who hadn't noticed she'd left would be asking: 'Where's Gladys?'

She walked down the hallway, heading towards the bathroom. On the way she saw Nearly Headless Nick and Kingsley Shacklebolt, both of whom recognized her and said hello, making her feel quite special.

Gladys was being followed, and she knew it. She turned around quickly. "Gotcha," she said, looking down at the dark brown feline behind her.

The cat regarded Gladys a moment before slowly walking over and rubbing against her leg. "Now," said Gladys, scooping the animal up, "where's your master?"

She looked up and saw that he was already there, a gaunt youngish man with dark auburn hair in need of a trim. "That's what I love about this place," Argus said, "I can Apparate, and nobody else can."

Irony. Argus was a Squib. Lily's opposite; a non-magical person from a wizard family. Thus, he could not Apparate, in the traditional sense. However, he knew Hogwarts better than anyone alive, and had an uncanny ability to appear where he was needed within seconds.

Gladys smiled with her eyes, but not her mouth, as Argus was disposed to do. She often did that too, when she was with him. "You really like it here? You didn't sound sincere."

"Of course," said Argus ambiguously. He gave a low chuckle.

The cat struggled in Gladys's arms, so she let it go. Argus picked it up, after it came to him. He held the cat close to him. Gladys could imagine how it must have been purring.

"Her name is Marie Antoinette," said Argus, "after one of the finest paintings I ever met."

Spontaneously, they began walking. They avoided others as much as possible, which was easy, as it was dinnertime. Nobody in their right mind wasn't eating.

They walked in silence for what felt like a long time. It was a good silence, the kind of silence one only experiences with family members and very close friends. The sort of silence that is a form of companionship in of itself.

Gladys was taken rather off guard when Argus broke the silence to ask her how she'd found her first day of classes. An ordinary uncle would have asked that question right away, and centered the entire conversation on the topic, but Argus was no ordinary uncle. She remembered the apple in her pocket.

"Look," she said, pulling out the apple. "In Transfiguration today I learned how to turn this into a peach."

"A peach. Hmn."

Gladys placed the apple on the floor. The three of them, Argus, Marie Antoinette, and herself, gathered around it. She said the magic words, thinking as hard as she could of peaches.

The apple changed into a peach. Gladys was not impressed yet, as she knew that the change in form was only the most basic part of the transfiguration. Argus and Marie Antoinette, however, were amazed, not by the transfiguration itself, but by who had performed it. They stared at the peach with their large, pale brown eyes.

"Marvelous," said Argus, "You are going to make all of us very proud." The life of the British Squib is one great anticlimax from the age of eleven onward. Argus's full understanding of this was the reason for the touch of melancholy in his tone as he said this; he knew that his niece would reach heights of experience that he himself could only dream of.

"Maybe," Gladys said, "but will I make you happy?" By 'you,' Gladys meant the entire Filch clan. Often, Gladys felt as if her older sister, at least, would have been much happier if Gladys had never received a Hogwarts letter. That way they could have remained at home, together. To say misery loves company is a cliché, but clichés become clichés for a reason: they are true.

"an only speak for myself," said Argus, "but yes." He offered her the peach, smiling with his eyes. "Eat this," he said, "Go eat. Talk with your friends. You'll find the Great Hall is around that corner. We've come full circle."

"Okay," said Gladys, "but you keep the peach."

"Fair enough."

Gladys turned the corner.

Going into the Great Hall, Gladys surveyed her surroundings. Lit by hundreds, maybe thousands, of candles, the place was beautiful. All at once, she felt very much at home.

Hogwarts got the Gladys Filch stamp of approval, definitely, and that was something.