Remus knew they should never have ended up in the same house.

Of course James belonged in Gryffindor. That was undeniable, surely. He came from a long line of wizards supposedly descended from Godric Gryffindor himself and he had been decked out in red and gold long before he first stepped foot into Hogwarts. And then there was that undeniable courage; courage that had made him almost drown trying to save his neighbour's cat when he was seven; courage that would later make him one of the best aurors, one of the strongest wizards on the side of good. Courage that made him so loved, a hero of war, a martyr who died trying to save his wife and son.

Sirius… well, Sirius should've followed his family into Slytherin. It was all there, all present in him – the cleverness that sometime descended into maliciousness, the cunning, the ambition. Even the blood, as noble and ancient and pure as could be.

Remus, however, should've been in Ravenclaw. He was intelligent, after all, more so even than his friends ever were, for all their brilliancy. He wasn't so foolishly trusting, so openly emotional as James. He knew very well that logic – the simple logic of personal gain – could easily overcome beliefs of honour and valour.

And Peter, loyal Peter, never quite reaching the levels his friends did, never quite bright enough, never quite as powerful and capable as they, he would perhaps have felt at home in Hufflepuff. Because in Hufflepuff, perhaps he wouldn't have been the one who always followed, like a shadow on the others' heels.

Things seldom happen the way they're supposed to, however. Or perhaps everything goes exactly as intended, just that mere mortals can't seem to realize it's the way things should be?

In any case, the Marauders had all left their pasts behind upon meeting each other. And, knowingly or unknowingly, they had changed.

Sirius exchanged ambition for a chance to enjoy life with his friends, forsook his pure-blooded family to spend time with blood-traitors and a half-breed.

Peter chose to try to overcome his cowardice by relinquishing his loyalty, the only trait that had ever really set him apart at all.

And Remus himself had ignored that voice in his head, had ignored the warning, had let emotions guide him when his intelligence could have saved his friends. He had let his love blind him, had believed in honour and friendship til the end, like a true Gryffindor. He should've known who the traitor was all along, because it was just so logical, because it made perfect sense. Instead, he had chosen to stay true to his house, and in the process buried two of his friends and wrongly hated a third, for crimes he could never have committed, not from the logical point of view.

It was remarkable, surely, that in all that guilt and self-blame there was a tiny feeling of pride. He had been foolish and emotional, but in the end, he had assuaged a doubt he had harboured for twenty-three years, had proved himself a true Gryffindor.