Aftermath

Chapter 3: The Sorting

“The other one is Slytherin,” he told her. “You don’t want to end up on the wrong side of a Slytherin. They’ll curse your butt off. Plus you're a muggle born, which is a bad thing in Slytherin books. You-Know-Who was in Slytherin, they say.” Oscar, Adam and Kaitlyn exchanged knowing glances. I stared at them, confused.

“She doesn’t know about the Great War,” Adam realised. I glared at them.

“Of course I do, it was in 1914. Then there was another one in 1939. Which one are you talking about?” I asked them. Adam and Oscar looked at each other and burst out laughing; Kaitlyn put her head in her hands. I felt my face burning. “What?” I demanded, afraid I had said something wrong.

“The Great War was three years ago,” Adam explained. “The Second Wizarding War. It all ended in the Battle of Hogwarts, when Harry Potter finally beat You-Know-Who!” I still wasn’t seeing the significance.

“This is the first year the school has been open since then,” Oscar added. I held up my hands to stop them.

“Wait a minute. Who’s this Harry Potter guy?” I demanded. Kaitlyn groaned and stood up.

“I’m going to the toilets,” she announced, sweeping out, as Adam and Oscar settled into a detailed description of who Harry Potter was. I nodded at the right places, and tried to look like I understood a word they were saying. Harry Potter had somehow defeated You-Know-Who (who was actually called Lord Voldemort, but you weren’t supposed to say the name) when he was a baby, leaving a lightning scar on his forehead. He had then arrived at Hogwarts and fought off Vol- I mean, You-Know-Who many times, who had managed to survive being killed, like Harry, until his final year when he went hunting “horcruxes”, which contained pieces of Voldemort’s soul, and destroying them so he could kill Voldemort. But in the end he didn’t kill him; he just outwitted him, and the killing curse rebounded again, destroying Voldemort for good.

“They did make sure he was really dead, didn’t they?” I asked hesitantly. Adam and Oscar laughed again.

“Yes, of course they did,” Adam told me, tears in his eyes.

“Apparently rigor mortis had set in by the time they burned his body,” Oscar added. I flinched in disgust.

“Oscar, not now,” Adam, cautioned his brother. “He’s obsessed with dead things, and diseases and things,” he explained.

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

“Not!”

“All right, all right,” I shushed them, grinning. “So what houses do you two want to be in?”

“Gryffindor!” they shouted in unison, although Oscar was less enthusiastic than Adam.

“You’d better be in Gryffindor with us!” Adam added. I smiled and nodded, although my mind was lingering on Ravenclaw. I had done well in my SATs, getting two 5As and a 5B in English, although I didn’t see the point of the subjects. Sure, maths was useful, and English taught you new words, but what was the purpose of teaching us other things, like world religions and why you should eat healthily and exercise for thirty minutes five times a week?

“Anything off the trolley, dears?” An old lady asked us, pushing in front of her a large cart full of sweets and goodies. I was about to get something, before I realised I didn’t have any money.

“We’ll get you something,” Oscar promised, and proceeded to pull three silver coins - I remembered they were called sickles - out of his trouser pocket. “Shall we get some things for Kaitlyn?” he asked Adam.

“Go on then,” he replied.

“Four chocolate frogs, four packets of bertie botts beans and three cauldron cakes please,” Oscar asked the lady, handing over two of the silver sickles and receiving the sweets and four small bronze coins - knuts - in return. Adam didn’t comment on the fact that Oscar had only bought three cauldron cakes. I watched as he distributed the sweets so we all had one of each. He gave the last cauldron cake to Kaitlyn’s empty seat, along with the other sweets, leaving himself with only a packet of beans and chocolate frog; no cauldron cake.