They met on the train. Four young boys from four very different households, all on their way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
A single compartment and a conversation that lasts the entirety of the trip, crossing subjects and topics seamlessly as though the boys had known each other for years rather than mere hours.
And then they arrive at their destination, and the giant form of the groundskeeper leads them to the dinghies.
Four to a boat is the rule. James and Sirius don't give it a thought as they make their way forward, never hesitating or doubting that it wouldn't be those four that they'd come with on the train. Peter and Remus, far less sure and after a moment's pause, follow.
Together they see the castle in all its glory. For the first time, it hits them. We're going to be wizards.
Oh, they've all heard stories, of course. James's father has been telling him for years all about the little secrets he discovered in his own time. All the passages and shortcuts to find and make use of. He feels almost like he's coming home.
Sirius too, has been raised on the stories. But his parents and cousins rarely spoke of anything but the dungeons where Slytherins make their home. He's always pictured Hogwarts as a cold place, much like his own family home, but here, against a backdrop of stars and with the lights shining brightly in every window, he wonders if maybe things will be different.
Remus too had wizarding parents. His father was a half-blood and his mother was pureblood, but they had always been hesitant to speak of their school. They had never thought a werewolf like him would be allowed to attend. As such, Remus's image of the school was framed by his image of Dumbledore, the man who had arrived on his doorstep to invite him personally. This was a place of wisdom and knowledge and magic. How could he be anything less than awed by the vision?
Peter's mother was a muggleborn, and she had always described Hogwarts as a place of such wonder and excitement... but she had always cautioned him that some wizards had always looked down upon her for her birth and could well do the same to him. Peter, though desperate to learn magic and become powerful like the legends he'd memorized so long ago, found the castle to be a daunting image. Wonderful but frightening all at the same time.
And then there was the Sorting, something none of them were prepared for.
Oh, again, they'd all heard stories. But it was something of an unspoken rule that none would speak of the Sorting Hat to any children below the age of eleven. They couldn't be made to think that it was the Hat that made the decision for them, now could they? No, they had to believe that a position in one of the Houses of Hogwarts were something that they would earn through some trial or another.
Otherwise they would arrive listless and uncaring, ready to accept whatever decision the Hat made for them. And that was no way for the Sorting to go about.
And so they stood, gaping at that ruddy old Hat. It truly looked it's thousand years, but it spoke and sang like something out of a storybook.
That's the other reason no one speaks of the Hat. The children would never believe it.
They all watched the first child be Sorted. A young girl by the name of Adair, who was Sorted into Ravenclaw almost from the moment the Hat touched her hair.
Sirius was next and, though he hid it well, he was terrified.
He sat on that stool, as tiny as any eleven year old, the Hat almost swallowing his head as it was placed upon him.
And it looked into his mind. It spoke to him and him alone. It saw everything he was and everything he could possibly be.
It saw a child who seemed destined for Slytherin. Pureblooded to such a degree that the family could trace their lineage to times before Hogwarts was even an idea. He was bright and cunning, with so much to offer.
But his ambition... his greatest and singular ambition was to leave that family behind. He hated them. Hated the coldness. Hated the hate. Hated the way that he knew they would hate him for being anything other than what they wished.
But he was also resigned. He was a Black, after all, and Blacks had been Slytherins for as long as Slytherins had existed. He was just another link in the family line. Another bond in the chain.
And he was daring, too. Just daring enough to wish for that hate. Daring enough to backtalk when his parents would scold him. Daring enough to refuse to be the Pureblooded scion that they wished him to be.
Daring enough to think 'what if?' when the Potter boy had told him- unaware that he was Sirius Black and that of course he'd be Slytherin- that he'd 'see him in Gryffindor'.
Daring enough to break the chain.
The Hat shouted its decision, and Gryffindor welcomed its first and only child of the Black family.
Remus was next, and he was unafraid. He was sure of his position.
He'd studied the school extensively upon receiving his invitation, so desperate to make use of the opportunity he'd been given. He'd looked at the Houses and their histories and thought that it would be Ravenclaw for him.
His whole life, he'd spent reading, after all. Studying and learning, rather than going out to play. He liked it, even if sometimes he wished that he could do something different.
But he was a werewolf, and such was his burden. He was a danger to those around him, no matter what Dumbledore said, and he'd take great care to watch himself over the next few years lest some other poor child be cursed with his condition.
The Hat was as certain as he, but the Hat had chosen a different fate for him.
The Hat knew, after all, after a glance at his mind. Remus was a studious soul, of this there was no doubt. He would be happy in Ravenclaw, this the Hat knew. But he did not belong there. After all, where else could a child of such bravery go?
A child so bold as to come to this school, knowing full well what was in store for him. So courageous that he had not thought twice upon receiving his invitation.
He was terrified of the rejection of his peers, this the Hat knew. The thought of them discovering his true nature would be a shadow in the back of his mind for years to come. They would shun him, if they knew. They would hurt him, if they knew. There were some that might even be so bold as to kill him, Dumbledore or no. And Remus could never blame them for that.
But he refused to let that fear rule him. He refused to be like the other werewolves he'd met, so terrified of magical society that they were too afraid to even try to be a part of it.
This was his chance. To be a normal child. To be a wizard rather than a werewolf. It was his chance, and damned if he wasn't going to take it.
Such bravery, such courage. If he ever had need of it, the Hat would offer him the Sword of Godric Gryffindor without hesitation.
Remus went to his table confused and unsure, but Sirius clapped him on the back amidst the cheers of the older students and he smiled, glad to be there.
Peter was next and he was a tricky one.
The toughest by far, all things considered. The Hat had seen twenty-two children already and Peter was proving more difficult than any of them.
He had no place in Ravenclaw, of this there was no doubt. The boy had a yearning for power, not knowledge, and was not the brightest candle to begin with.
Hufflepuff was where he believed he belonged, and the Hat was tempted to give it to him. For all his fears and insecurities, Peter was well used to toil and a hard worker well and true. His loyalties were a matter of debate, but incur his debt and he would always repay.
But Slytherin was where the Hat felt he would rightly be classed. His ambition for power was great, as was his cunning. He was not the cleverest soul by far, but cunning and cleverness were two very different things.
And he was afraid, as well, but it was because of his fear that the Hat was so conflicted. Peter feared being alone. He feared losing the friends he had made. Already Sirius and Remus were together in Gryffindor, and James seemed to have no doubt as to where he would soon be placed.
Peter was well aware of the Hogwarts rivalries and knew that friendships between Houses were a rare thing indeed. If he were a Hufflepuff, or heaven forbid a Slytherin, his friends would turn on him and he would be alone again.
Peter hated being alone. In all the world, there was nothing he feared more. At least at that moment. For a child such as him, small and weak and talentless and dim, pain was something to be expected. Something to be feared, yes, but endured. He did not yet know of pains so great that they would come to be feared far more than any solitude.
He feared being alone. He didn't want to be alone, with new people in a new place. He wanted to be with his friends.
He dared to ask.
None were more surprised than he when the Hat announced its decision.
James Potter came right after Peter, clapping the smaller boy on the shoulder as he scurried past to find his seat, grinning so brightly you'd think he'd been offered the world.
James took his seat with all the confidence that was due to a Potter. Professor McGonagall sat the Hat down upon his head, remembering with some fondness doing much the same for his father some twenty years previous.
The Hat was barely placed before it made it's decision. Professor McGonagall had not yet even released the sagging tip, when it bellowed for all the Great Hall to hear.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Professor McGonagall caught the quick grin Potter sent her way. He knew full well that she was now his Head of House and likely thought he knew from his father exactly how to play her like a fiddle. She never quite shocked Charlus Potter out of that delusion, but she'd be sure to break his son of it before it got out of hand.
James went to take his seat at the Gryffindor table, nudging the redheaded Evans girl out of the way to take the spot opposite Remus and right next to Peter, to the thunderous applause of the rest of the table.
Around them, the Sorting continued, but these four boys didn't care. They talked and joked and laughed, only stopping once when James poked fun at the redhead who seemed upset when the black-haired Snape boy was Sorted into Slytherin.
He didn't know, then and there, that the girl he was teasing for liking a boy would be the one he'd fall in love with in just a few years. He didn't know that they'd marry just after Graduation and have a beautiful baby boy, and he certainly didn't know that he would be laying down his life for those two by the time he was only twenty-one years old.
He didn't know that the three boys around him would each lay down their lives for a son he'd never get to see grow.
But he did know that these three boys who were with him today would be with him for the rest of his life.
And though the name came later- not until their sixth year when the Map was completed and they'd needed a name, and Peter had wanted something alliterative and James had wanted to call it the 'Prankster's Pal' and Sirius had insisted that it be named something far more grandiose and Prongs had retorted that 'Padfoot' was a thing of such dignity and a fistfight was only avoided when Remus brought out his thesaurus- but that was the night that the Marauders were born.
Author's Note: Wow, so this is what happens when you binge on Marauders headcanons for an hour. It's weird, I don't really read Marauders era HP fics, so even though I haven't seen it I am sure that this idea of a Marauders Sorting isn't exactly new, but I do kind of like how it turned out anyway. Let me know what you guys think of it.