Singled Out // Remus Lupin · Y/n story by @hershyclassical

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was a cavern of noise and shifting light. Thousands of candles floated in the air, their flames reflected in the enchanted ceiling where a few early stars were beginning to glimmer against a deep violet sky. The long house tables were packed, a sea of black robes punctuated by scarlet, yellow, blue, and green ties. The buzz of a hundred summer stories being traded competed with the clatter of plates and goblets.

Sirius Black

laughs, a sharp, barking sound that cuts through the chatter And then she said, ‘If that’s your best transfiguration, Black, I’d stick to charming the furniture!’

Mary Macdonald

sitting sideways in Sirius’s lap, swats his arm You’re leaving out the part where you turned her teacup into a rather handsome, if confused, gerbil!

Sirius Black

It was an improvement! The tea was shit.

James Potter

not looking up from where his fingers are gently carding through red hair Language, Padfoot. There are delicate ears present.

Lily Evans

her head is resting on the table, turned towards James, eyes closed My ears are not delicate, Potter. They’ve survived five years of your voice.

James Potter

grins, unoffended See? Tough as dragonhide.

Peter Pettigrew

leaning towards a girl with short, soft brown hair So your mum really didn’t mind you staying with us for the last week?

June Conshow

smiles, shaking her head She said it was good for me. To be around… well, a bit of chaos. She thinks our house is too quiet.

Remus Lupin

sits slightly apart, his chin propped on his hand. His gaze is fixed on the empty space of the table in front of him, a well-worn copy of ‘Advanced Rune Translation’ lying ignored by his elbow. The laughter and conversation seem to form a bubble around him that he has no interest in popping.

The massive oak doors at the end of the hall swing open. A sudden, respectful hush falls, broken only by the squeak of benches as everyone turns. Professor McGonagall enters, tall and stern, leading a line of small, terrified-looking first-years. The Sorting Hat is placed upon its stool, and after a moment’s pause, it begins to sing.

Professor McGonagall

Y/l/n, Y/n!

A figure detaches from the very back of the group. Not small. Not a first-year. The chatter at the Gryffindor table, which had resumed at a low hum, dips again in curiosity. This is unusual.

The Sorting Hat

a small, whispered voice, just for you Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of nerve, I see. A sharp mind, but it’s guarded. There’s loyalty here, a fierce kind… and a thirst to prove something. But where to put you… Not Slytherin, no, that’s not the place for that particular fire. Ravenclaw would suit the intellect… but there’s a bravery here that’s more… active. Yes. Better be… GRYFFINDOR!

The last word is shouted to the Hall. The table on the far left erupts into cheers and applause. You remove the Hat, place it back on the stool, and turn towards the sea of scarlet and gold.