Chapter Text
The first thing I notice about Hartwell Academy isn't the spires or the polished oak doors. It's the noise. Every hallway hums with it—violins bleeding through thin walls, a trumpet blasting sharp enough to rattle glass, someone screaming lyrics into a mic that definitely isn't plugged in. Hartwell is supposed to be the best of the best, but all I hear is chaos.
Which feels about right.
I don't belong here. Not really.
Dad calls it a waste of money, my sisters roll their eyes like I'm delusional, and even now, dragging my suitcase across the marble floors, I keep waiting for someone to stop me and say there's been a mistake. "Sorry Lupin, you're not meant for this place."
Still, I get in. On bass. Which is ironic, considering bass players aren't meant to stand out. Background noise. Easy to ignore. That's me to a fault.
"Oi! You look lost."
I turn, already bracing for some overenthusiastic stranger, and sure enough—there he is.
Messy dark hair like he’s been running fingers through it all day, wide grin, drumsticks sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. He looks like trouble in sneakers.
"Uh," I say, articulate as always. "Just finding my dorm."
He bounces on his heels like he can't stand still for more than three seconds. "You're Lupin right? Remus Lupin? Bass?"
I freeze. "...Yeah?"
“Brilliant.” He thrusts out a hand. “James Potter. Drums. Future bandmate. Possibly your new best friend, if you play your cards right.”
I blink at him. “…Bandmate?”
“Yeah, mate. We’re at Hartwell. You think I came here to play snare in some orchestra? No chance. I’m putting together a band. Rock and roll. Loud enough to get us thrown out. You in?”
I want to laugh in his face. I don't know him. I don't know anyone. And I'm not about to throw myself headfirst into some cocky stranger's daydream. But James Potter looks at me like he's already decided I said yes.
“Maybe,” I mutter, dragging my suitcase past him. “If you’re lucky.”
He jogs after me, still grinning. “Oh, trust me. You’ll thank me later.”
I doubt it. But his confidence sticks to me like static. And somehow, without realizing it, I’ve already taken the first step into something I’m not sure I’ll survive.