Yippee
Peter:
Sirius Black got Gryffindor? What? How? Aren't all of the Blacks supposed to be in Slytherin? What?
Peter was shaking in anticipation while waiting for his name to be called. His father had mentioned wanting him to be in Slytherin, but he hadn't rubbed it in too much. He wanted to be in Gryffindor; he wanted to be brave. But, he wasn't. That was his problem.
He went through his nervous habits, biting at his lip until it bled, biting his nails, and bouncing his right leg, then his left, then both. Then, his name was finally called.
"Peter Pettigrew!"
He released a breath and made his way to the front, still shaking. Once he got there, the sorting hay was placed on his head. Then, he jumped dramatically when it began to speak.
"Ahh, yes! A Pettigrew! Lovely brain in here, seemingly willing to please. But, where to put you? You seem to have many qualities of a Hufflepuff...Oh, you'd be absolutely magnificent at Herbology. Wait, oh, you'd be much better in GRYFFINDOR!"
"What...?" Peter wondered aloud as he made his way to the Gryffindor table, hardly registering the clapping students around him. He made it. He made it! James got Gryffindor almost as soon as the hat was set on his head. He smiled broadly and made his way to sit by Peter. Peter didn't belong here, in Gryffindor. He knew that. Still, he forced a fake cheery smile and struck up a conversation with James, anyhow. His new friend looked so excited.
Remus:
The feast looked magnificent! Remus was sure he had never seen this much food before in his entire life. The boy next to him, however, was extremely mopey, though Remus could not see why. The boy was posh-looking, with sharp cheekbones, long hair, and overall good-looking features, and this boy was currently attempting to stab through his plate with his fork.
"Why are you murdering your plate?" Remus asked the boy, trying to make conversation because it was just too quiet and awkward.
"Was bored," the boy responded, not looking up.
"Ah," Remus could take a hint. If the boy didn't want to talk to him, he wouldn't force him.
"It looked at me funny," the boy said suddenly with a slightly reluctant smile, and Remus smiled, too.
"Is that so?"
"Mhm, absolutely."
"I'd better be careful not to do that, then, shall I?"
The boy smiled once more at Remus and returned to his plate, slightly less upset than before.
James:
The portraits are magnificent, James thought as the Gryffindor prefect showed him and the other Gryffindor first years through the staircase. He had been so excited to see everything about the wonderful school ever since he could remember, and finally being able to get a tour, he was not disappointed.
There was a boy moping around towards the back of the group. A Black, James realized, not having paid much attention to the sorting. He had never cared much for blood purity, but maybe this Black was different. He was in Gryffindor after all. Weren't most Blacks in Slytherin?
James tried to approach him to say hi, but was unable to get to him before the Prefect started talking about the password to get into Gryffindor tower. Fine, he'd speak to him, later. Now, he had to convince Peter that he wouldn't forget the password, anyhow.
Then, he discovered his dorm-mates. One was Peter, which he was grateful for. Another was a heavily scarred boy, Remus Lupin, who looked nice enough. The last one was Black, Sirius Black, he had learned. He didn't know much about Sirius, yet, but something in him told him that he needed to make sure the boy was okay and loved who he was, not who he was expected to be.
"I'm James, James Potter."
"My mother would call you a blood traitor."
"Well she sounds like a right bitch if you ask me," said Remus.
"She'd call you a mudblood," Sirius snapped, then looked down as if he didn't mean to say that.
"Lupin is right," James replied comfortingly, "and don't say words like that, Black."
"Right, sorry," Sirius said then sighed, "you're both right. Thanks James. You too, Remus."
Remus:
That word, mudblood, what did it mean? Remus wanted to know.
"What does mudblood mean, Sirius?"
Sirius looked down in shame and James grimaced.
"It's like a pureblood wizard slur for wizards with, um, non-magical, we call them muggles, parents," James stammered.
"Oh," Remus replied. That made sense, he supposed.
"Listen, Remus," Sirius began apologetically, but Remus cut him off.
"No, no, it's okay! You didn't mean it. You were just saying your mother would call me that."
And it really was okay. It was just a word. Words couldn't hurt him as much as what he already had to deal with every full moon. What was a little insult compared to that? He didn't blame Sirius. It wasn't his fault. He hoped Sirius didn't feel too guilty.
Then, Sirius smiled, and Remus felt it right then and there that all of these boys would become great friends
The happy vibe was killed, however, when an owl flew in the open window carrying a vibrant red envelope.
"Is that a howler?" Peter asked nervously.
"It's from my mother," Sirius said blankly, face going pale.
"Oh, no," James said, wide eyed and looking alarmed, "you'd better open it!"
"What's a howler?" Remus asked, as Sirius wordlessly opened the howler and it began to shriek.
Remus did, in face, learn what a howler is that day, and vowed never to send one to anyone, ever.