After Hogwarts – A short story by Jana

hogwartsPart One

I reached Platform 9 ¾ with as much anxiety as I had excitement. What if I’m in Slytherin? Albus Severus Potter, what did Dad say again? Two Headmasters of Hogwarts, but why did he name me after a Slytherin, a dead one too? Does he think that I belong in Slytherin? I followed James onto the train, which was royal red, with gold patterns covering it like decorations on a cake. Red and gold, the Gryffindor  colours. Was it a sign? Focus, Albus, focus. According to my brother James, I ask too many questions, but I have my reasons. My father is Harry Potter, greatest wizard of all time. And he will have a Slytherin son, thanks to me, I’m pretty sure. On the train I saw Rose, my cousin, daughter of the smartest witch of the age and part of a family of complete redheads.  She has a brother, Hugo, who, like my younger sister Lily, is not old enough to start at Hogwarts. They waved at me, all of them, Ron, Hermione, Hugo, Lily, Mum and Dad. From the look on my Dad’s face, I knew he believed in me. But the real question is… Do I believe in myself?

As I sat, stiff as a board, on the luxurious, comfortable, train seats, I felt lonely. There was James, laughing and sharing the latest stock of Canary Creams from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes with his friends, and there was Rose, forever her mother’s daughter, studying a book on Vampires. I had no – one. I needed to make some friends. Just as I began feeling extremely sorry for myself, the Lady with the trolley of food knocked on our train carriage. I jumped up. “Three cauldron cakes, and a liquorice wand, please” I said, politely.

“Three?” I heard a voice next to me. I turned, and there stood a tall, pale boy, hair as white as chalk, and a sneer. Scorpius Malfoy. “Woah, how are you going to eat all those, fatty?”

“I..” I stammered. Dad had warned me about this, but what would he say if he knew that I had just gone bright red with humiliation?

“You’re probably the richest Weasley I’ve ever met.”

“I’m a Potter, Weasley was my mum’s name” I replied, finally pulling myself together.

“Ha! You say it like you’re proud.” He sniggered.

“Leave him alone.” It was James, staring at Scorpius, giving him a look that quite clearly said ‘Don’t mess with me’.

Still sneering, he left, muttering “What a little weirdo. No wonder, though, he’s got a Weasley mum, and he’s proud.”

From the stories Dad had told me, it sounded as though I was in for the same life as his.                Practically haunted by Malfoys.

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