A/N: Tbh, I'm glad this chapter is done. I'm not a huge fan of writing Peter, and I wanted to get through the part where I felt I needed to show everyone's perspective. From now on, each event will only be told from one of the marauder's perspectives, although it'll still alternate as it serves the story. There may not be quite so many Peter chapters from now on. I start my finals the week after Thanksgiving, so I probably will not get a chance to write for a few weeks, but I hope that once finals are over, updates will come more frequently. That is all - enjoy!

ALSO PLEASE GO CHECK OUT THE NEW TUMBLR FOR THIS UNIVERSE - "thosemarauderboys" . You can find fancasts of the characters (including OCs) to see what I imagine them looking like, plus fun facts about them, and I'm trying to update with like, images and stuff as well.

The Sorting, Peter

The journey from the train to the castle was too anxiety-inducing for Peter to remember much of it, instead passing in a blur of intense nausea. He was fairly sure that his pallor was a very sickly green, rather than his customary pale pink, and the time in those little rickety boats did not help matters. As Professor McGonagall marched them through the large dining hall, Peter fought the urge to be sick. It would certainly not be the best first impression. He could imagine the resounding laughter as the entire student body saw him, sick covering his robes. Feeling a little bit flushed, Peter shook the image from his mind, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. He was so focused, he didn't notice that the rest of the students had stopped walking, having reached the front of the hall, and he promptly collided with the girl in front of him, who turned around and shot him a nasty look.

There was a worn old hat sitting on top of a fairly unsteady looking stool, and as Peter watched, the hat opened wide at the brim and began singing. The phenomenon shocked Peter so much that he nearly fell over, feeling extremely lightheaded. He couldn't make out the words that the hat was saying, his brain feeling fuzzy and full. Finally, a crisper, clearer voice cut through the muddle in his mind.

"When I call your name, you will step forward, and the hat will sort you into your house," Professor McGonagall announced. "When you have been sorted, you will join your house at its table."

Peter began wringing his hands together and twisting them in his robes, a telltale sign of his mounting nerves.

"Black, Sirius!" was called, and the curly-haired boy who had defended him on the train stepped forward. The hat seemed to take a great deal of time deliberating, but at last it shouted "Gryffindor!" and Sirius made his way to the table to the far right, decorated in red and gold. He seemed to deflate a bit, but he did not quite seem happy, which baffled Peter. From his discussions on the train, it seemed as though Gryffindor was the house to be in.

Angus Brown and Eagan Burke both went to Hufflepuff. What had Emrys said on the train about Hufflepuff? That was where people who were loyal went. Peter thought that could be right for him. Loyalty was a good thing, and though he had never really had an occasion to prove his loyalty, he thought it could be something he valued.

"Fawley, Zephyr!" was called forward, and a boy who looked like he belonged in the shadows stepped forward. He frowned as the hat was placed on his head, but otherwise sat completely still.

"Slytherin!" the hat called out after a few moments, and the boy stood silently, handing the hat back to Professor McGonagall. He glided over to the green and silver table to the left, barely making a sound, and he sat next to the other first years, his face still expressionless.

Howard Hall was sent to Hufflepuff as well, and Peter rapidly grew both more impatient for his turn and more nervous. He wanted it to be over, but he was also terrified of the result.

"Lupin, Remus!" Professor McGonagall called, and Peter recognized the friendly boy from the train compartment. He looked about as nervous as Peter felt, his face thoroughly green. For several moments, the hall sat quietly, waiting for the hat to announce its decision, but nothing came. Peter felt an edge of panic on Remus' behalf, but even more that this would happen to him too. What if the had decided he had to leave Hogwarts? What if it said he wasn't a wizard after all, that there had been some mistake?

"Gryffindor!" the hat shouted at last, and Peter released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in. He watched Remus walk over to the Gryffindor table, but he didn't miss the almost longing glance he cast in the direction of the Hufflepuff table ask he walked past. Perhaps Peter wasn't the only one who was hoping to join the ranks of the Hufflepuffs. Gavin O'Neill was sent to join Hufflepuff and Peter felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Pettigrew, Peter!" Professor McGonagall said, and Peter immediately felt as though he had shrunk to half his size. She seemed to tower over him with the impossibly large hat, and it felt as though he had to scramble up onto the stool to be sorted. As Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head, it slipped down about his ears, covering his eyes.

Very interesting, a voice hissed in Peter's ear, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Not Ravenclaw, I think, no, we can eliminate that one right away.

I'd really like Hufflepuff, Peter thought to himself, and he heard the hat chuckle slightly.

No, I think not that either. Hmmm, the hat considered carefully. There is not so much ambition, but cunning abound. Slytherin would be a good fit… But perhaps in Gryffindor… if I sent you there, perhaps what I have seen…

The hat seemed to be talking to itself for the most part then, its words completely unintelligible to Peter.

Please, I don't want to be in Slytherin, Peter thought, his hands gripping the edge of the stool so tightly that his knuckles were starting to ache.

No, perhaps this will change things… Alright then… Be brave, Peter…

"Gryffindor!"

Peter let out a sigh of relief as he scooted off the stool and made his way toward the red and gold dressed table. Gryffindors up and down its length offered him high fives as slaps on the back as he passed them, but Peter kept going, searching for Remus and Sirius, the only two faces he recognized.

"Would it be alright if I sat here?" Peter asked the two boys, gesturing to the empty place beside Remus. Sirius gave a noncommittal shake of the head, and Remus waved his had in assent, flashing a welcoming smile, but both boys had their eyes fixed on the sorting.

"Potter, James!" had been called only a few moments before, and Peter turned to watch what was happening. It seemed like mere moments compared to the time he had spent sitting on the stool before the hat called out in a loud voice, "Gryffindor!", confirming all their suspicions. The table cheered and Sirius went completely berserk and Peter clapped along with the others. James practically skipped over to them, collapsing into the seat next to Sirius with a slight huff and looking for all the world like he was about to cry with joy.

"Sexton, Althea!" became yet another Hufflepuff, and Peter watched her join the table next to him with envy. It wasn't that he was displeased with being sorted into Gryffindor, it was just that he wasn't entirely sure that he agreed with the hat's assessment of him.

"Stebbins, Daniel!" was called forth, and a small, bookish looking boy with curly hair stepped forward to answer.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat declared almost at once, and the boy hopped off, looking rather pleased.

Peter looked around at the empty plates that sat on crimson table runners, and he longed for them to be filled with food. His mother had told him how wonderful the dinners were at Hogwarts, and he looked forward to it so much. She had not been the best cook herself, but she had tried awful hard. Peter used to sit with her while she cooked sometimes, taste testing the dishes she created and suggesting things that she might add. He had always loved cooking.

"Wells, Adrian!" Professor McGonagall beckoned. Peter watched as yet another of his peers was sorted into the house he had wanted, but he didn't let himself feel sorry. He had gotten a wonderful house and he knew people there and he felt certain that they could be friends, so long as they tried hard enough. And Peter was quite determined to make considerable effort. Things would be different here, things would not be like his old schools. He would not be bullied here.