The Sorting

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Gryffindor. One word that had four very different meanings to four boys, who on the surface seemed very different, but deep down, only wanted the same things. Love. Acceptance. Joy.
To James Potter, these words were accompanied with a swell of pride, and an immediate mental image of the smile on his father's face, and the reluctant smirk on his mothers. When James was first born she had been hoping for Ravenclaw, or even Slytherin, the latter being the house she had been sorted into during her days at Hogwarts. But shortly after he had entered infancy, there was no doubt in her mind, that he was pure Gryffindor.
James had been expecting to be sorted into Gryffindor for as long as he could remember. His parents had as well, that's why he was shocked when the hat suggested that a mere ounce of him belonged in Hufflepuff. He didn't think there was anything wrong with Hufflepuffs, but Gryffindor was where he was meant to be. But after a few moments of debating, the hat had made its final decision. If anyone asked James, he would say he was a Gryffindor through and through, but reluctantly a piece of him would argue that he belonged in Hufflepuff. And his loyalty to his friends in the years to come would further prove this.
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To Peter Pettigrew, the word Gryffindor was out right terrifying. Peter had no clue how the English house system worked, he assumed it was somewhat like the American one, but he didn't know what houses stood for what. The first time he heard the word Gryffindor, was from his slightly younger sister Jane. Jane had read Hogwarts: a History, just to see if it contained any information on the houses. It did. This information didn't make Peter feel much better.
Peter was desperately hoping for Hufflepuff. Kind, loyal, just. It sounded perfect for him. Hell, he was 15 and shaking at the thought of being sorted into Gryffindor; house of the brave, chivalrous, and courageous. How could he survive there?
The hat, had at first assumed that Hufflepuff would be a good home for the elder Pettigrew sibling, but upon taking a deeper look into the young lads mind, decided that Gryffindor was the house for him. And so Peter went and sat, next to his younger sister, James Potter, and Sirius Black.
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To Sirius Black, Gryffindor was the dream. For years it was burned into Sirius, quite literally, Toujours Pur. He was to rule Hogwarts as the Black Prince. The Slytherin Black Prince. Slytherin was where he belonged, where all of his ancestors had, except for Uncle Alphard, but that was one of the many reasons he had been close to being disowned, only to at the last moment, prove his worth of the Black title. Sirius, though, knew he had nothing in common with his ancestors. In his opinion, almost all of the Black family members deserved to rot. The exceptions being Uncle Alphard, Aunt Dorea (who was technically a Potter), Andromeda, and Regulus. The others, to be quite frank, could burn in hell.
The rest, were a bunch of twats too focused on blood purity, religion, homophobia, and incest, that had their heads so far up their ass, they could see their small intestine. Sirius, from the time he was little, had wondered why his parents believed that muggles were so inferior. He wondered if what they believed was true, better yet if it was right.
To Sirius Black, Gryffindor was rebellion. It was a sign that he could get out from under his parents thumb, while still holding them under his. When the hat had been placed on his head, it was already ready to shout Slytherin. Sirius knew the hat would take some convincing. Already prepared to say 'don't you dare'. To both the hat and Sirius' surprise, it didn't. It had taken one look at Sirius' mind and saw that it was strikingly similar to the one of James Potter. So there he sat, at Gryffindor table, with the eyes of hundreds on him. And he sat tall and proud, shoulders broad, and a smirk on his face, daring someone to say something indecent to him.
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The word Gryffindor meant absolutely nothing to Remus Lupin. For it was a house he didn't expect to call his own. In his mind, Remus was a lot of things. Smart, witty, an intellect, well-read, a monster. Brave didn't make the list. Brave was no where near the list. Remus expected to be sorted into Ravenclaw, as his father had. Ravenclaws, while incredibly curious and smart, were indifferent to what type of being you may be. Gryffindors were loud and obnoxious and went around shoving their opinion on everything in everyones face. Remus was quiet and reserved.
In Remus' mind, he was quit literally everything a Gryffindor was not. His father was expecting Remus to be a Ravenclaw. To be sorted just as he had. And while they didn't know what house his mother would've been in, for she is a muggle, he always thought she would've been sorted Gryffindor. She was young, and out spoken. Brave enough to stand up for what she thought was right.
He damned her for it when the hat suggested he belonged to Gryffindor. He had argued with the hat for a while, told it that he was a Ravenclaw, he belonged there, and he thought he had won. Until,
"Gryffindor!" Remus was shocked as the last word was spoken aloud. He gaped as he walked towards the table of his house. A house he wanted nothing to do with. Gryffindors were loud, obnoxious, and restless. He was quiet, reserved, socially awkward. He repeated this mantra as though it was his lifeline.
He took a seat next to Lily and a few other girls, who introduced themselves as Marlene McKinnon, Mary Macdonald, and Jane Pettigrew. On his other side was James Potter. Who looked happy to have him in his house. Sat across from Remus was Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, Jane's older brother.
"Guess we will have to get to know each other? Huh, Lupin?" Sirius asked, his tone cold as ice.
"Piss off, Black." Remus replied, turning slightly to face Lily and only catching one last glimpse of the grey eyes he was sure hell accompanied.

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