Aftermath

Chapter 3: The Sorting

Chapter 3: The Sorting

After Kaitlyn left, I stared out of the train window, watching the countryside flash by. I’m a city girl - born and raised on the streets of London - and I’ve never been so far away from home before, because we don’t have much money.

It’s just me and my mum in our house, because Elisa got hit by a car before I was born and dad left. My mum works at a till in Sainsbury’s. It was the best job she could find, and the pay is barely enough for us to get by, but we manage.

Then this summer, a strange ball of fluff and feathers started attacking my bedroom window before flying through the open one next to it and landing on my bed. it took me a moment to realise that it was an owl. That brought back memories of being six in London Zoo, licking this huge ice cream and staring at the caged animals, asking mum why they were all locked up. Slowly, I reached out a hand to stroke the creature. It nuzzled into me happily. That was when I knew that I had to get a pet. I didn’t know how I would be able to afford one, just that I needed it.

Carefully, I picked up the brown fluffy owl and took it back to the window. That was when i realised that there was something tied to its leg.

“What’ve you got there?” I cooed, stroking the tiny bird. It offered the leg out to me, and with shaking hands, I untied the string that had attached what I now saw was an envelope to the owl’s skinny foot. The owl gave my hand a last, affectionate peck and took off.

“Wait!” I called, but it was already gone. I sat down on my shabby bed, with its broken posts and scribbled on covers, and regarded the envelope in my hand. An elaborate, swirling script depicted my name and address on the front. Curious, I turned over the crisp white paper, and was surprised to see that it had been sealed with purple wax. Some sort of crest was pressed into it.

“Rose, what’s going on up there?” my mum’s scratchy voice called up the stairs. She must have just got back from her saturday morning shift in the supermarket. I thought quickly.

“Mum, look what just came!” I shouted back, jumping off my bed and running out of my bedroom, down to the kitchen-diner. I looked around guiltily, spying the unwashed breakfast dishes in the sink.

My mum was standing in the corner by our old rattly kettle, her cigarette-stained fingers changing the paper in the coffee strainer. She turned and smiled at me, her eyes as tired as her voice.

“What’s that?” she asked me, reaching out for the letter. I gave it to her reluctantly. After a quick examination, she placed it back in my eager hands. “It’s addressed to you; you should open it,” she said, patting my head. I ripped the envelope open the moment it touched me, the scattered pieces drifting to cover the already dirty floor, and revealing underneath a letter made of the same crisp white paper as the envelope. Mum laughed at my rabid excitement as I unfolded the letter and began to read. And reread. And reread again. This is what it said:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall

Dear Miss Greene,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Your Sincerely,

Filius Flitwick,

Deputy Headmaster

“What’s it about?” mum asked, peering over my shoulder. I heard her gasp as she read the words that I had just finished. “Is there a kit list?” she questioned, pulling out a second piece of paper from behind. I gaped at her.