Sisters; Can't Live With Them, Can't Prank Without Them

A-whim-a-way

We entered a compartment in silence. As Lione sat down she swung the strap on her shoulder round revealing a Guitar.

"You brought your guitar," I said.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "This is a ferret."

"Right," I said, "I guess I deserved that."

Lucy was giggling.

"What?" Gregory asked, "It wasn't that funny."

"Oh she's just excited because we're back at school. You should have heard her last year, she squiggled."

"What's that?"

"Half way between a squeak and a giggle. The sound that will forever embody Air Jet in my mind."

"It's not that," Lucy said, "Or at least it's not all that. I know I'm excited but that's only half the reason. You see- actually it might be about a third-"

"Er hum."

"Right. You see my Dad was once turned in to a ferret."

"Really?" cried Gregory.

"By who?" Lione asked.

"One of the teachers here."

"D'you think he still works here?" Gregory said eagerly.

"What?" said Lione, "Do you want to be a ferret? I could ask McGonagall for a spell if you really want it."

"Maybe it was McGonagall!" Gregory cried, "I always thought there was something suspicious about her."

"No you didn't," I protested, "You're just saying that because she turned Lucy's Dad in to a ferret."

"She didn't," said Lucy, "The teacher who did it was fired. Not because he transfigured my Dad, he was a Death Eater."

"Oh."

There was silence again.

"So," I said, to break it. "Lione. Are you going to play us something or not?"

Lione twanged a few strings to make sure it was in tune then started. It was very simple, just a few chords played over and over but after she'd only played it a few times everybody was ready to join in simultaneously.

"In the Jungle, the mighty Jungle,

The Lion sleeps tonight.

In the Jungle, the mighty Jungle

The Lion sleeps tonight.

Ah-"

There was silence again except for Lione's playing because no one wanted to be the one to sing the "Ah whooooooo" bit. We all burst in to giggles because of the sharp ending. All except Lione who, after concluding that no one was going to sing any more, launched in to another tune. It was amazing. It sounded like two guitars were playing at once, one picking at the strings and another strumming chords. Her fingers at the... you know... the twangy bit (I will have to look that up) as in the bit where you either strum or pick depending on what you're doing. Well anyway, her fingers at that bit flew between the strings. But on the fingerboard (see, I know that name) they moved slowly and rather clumsily. But the music still came out beautifully. It was amazing and very good. When she ended there was another hush (got tired of silence) but this time it was different. Nicer somehow.

"Wow," said Gregory.

"Yeah, Kettle," I said, "I thought you said you were no good?"

"You know I remember that," said Lucy, "That was way better than no good. You can really play! Why didn't you tell us you could play like that? Why? Why why why?"

Lione laughed. "I was no good. I was okay but a far cry from what I thought I would be like by that age. Then I went back at the end of last year, picked up my guitar again and found I was worse! So I practiced really really hard over the holidays and I actually got better. That's why I brought it with me this time, so I can practice. Plus, for once, I'm actually getting to enjoy it now I'm on book two."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"That I can play duets and 'What do you do with a drunken sailor'."

We laughed.

"Hey!" she protested, "It's hard. It's really fast."

We continued to laugh. Leigh thrust the guitar at me.

"Go on smart boy," she said, "You play."

I took the instrument and placed it on my lap. I held it exactly how she had and arranged my fingers to match identically hers. I dropped my hand across the strings. I dropped the guitar in shock. It sounded awful! Like someone had taken a cat and... done cruel things to it. I would say thrown against the wall but I've never heard cats that have been slung against the wall so I can't really make the comparison, can I? Lets just say that it sounded incredibly bad. The others laughed.

We spent most of the rest of the trip handing round the guitar for other people to have a go on. We even managed (and by we I of course mean Lucy) to persuade the lady on the sweet trolley to have a go. She performed 'Twinkle twinkle little star' before handing it back, taking a bow and receiving a unified round of applause from us. Gregory even managed to pull off a rendition of kum by ya before the end of the journey, much to the amusement of everyone in a three-compartment radius of us.

But soon the journey was over and we were getting on to the part I was dreading.

"What's the matter with you?" Lione asked, as we got in to the horseless carriages for the final stretch on the Hogwarts. And by horseless carriages I don't mean cars, they were horse carriages that moved without horses.

"Yeah," said Gregory, "What's wrong? I'm looking forward to the Sorting now I don't have to take part in it."

"What were you worrying about?" Lucy asked him. "You had generations of Gryffindors to reassure you. What did I have to look forward to? Mouldy old Slytherin."

"If I remember correctly," said Lione, "You were going for Hufflepuff."

"I was nervous, that's all," snapped Lucy.

Lione dropped it immediately. Even I knew that if Lucy was ever as blunt as that then she definitely did not want to talk about it.

"Though I have to admit I agree with you," Lione mused, "I detested that hat."

"I hated those little boats," Gregory added, "Made me feel sick."

"Maybe Melanie won't like them either," I dreamed, "Maybe she'll turn back when she sees them. Or maybe she'll go in them, get so incredibly sick that she has to be sent home. Or maybe she'll fall in to the lake."

"Ah!" they chorused. "Melanie."

"Almost forgot about her."

"Well of course Joseph wouldn't forget her," Lucy told them, "It's part of his nature to remember everything."

"And the fact that she's his sister didn't contribute anything?"

"Guys, I'm serious! What if she gets in to Gryffindor? I'll have to live with her every day of my life for six years! I don't think I can put up with her for that long."

"I managed," Lucy put in shyly.

"But your brother's in a completely different house," I pointed out, "And you two seem to actually get on. How do you manage that, by the way? Seems like an impossible task if you ask me. Stupid Melanie."

"What about you and Caitlyn?"

I glared at Lione for making such a relevant, useful and inconsiderately accurate point.

"But it's not Caitlyn," I pointed out, "It's Melanie, or 'evil brat queen' as she prefers to be called."

"Really?" Lucy asked.

"No."

"Oh. Why not?"

How could she beat me at potions?

"What if she's not in Gryffindor?" Gregory inquired.

"What if she is?"

"What if she isn't?"

"What if she is?"

"What if she isn't?"

"Ah, but what if she is?"

"Joey-" Lione started.

"Joseph."

"Joseph. It's a 1 in 4 chance."

"That's huge! That's 25%!"

"Exactly! People have killed babies because they have more than that chance of surviving."

"Lione, let's try to keep to the subject please."

Lione put her head in her hands. "I give up," she announced, "Sure. Melanie will be a Gryffindor, you will be miserable and the world will end. Happy?"

"No," I said, "That's the point."

"Ah yes, I forgot what we were talking about for a minute."

We entered the Main hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table. The others greeted the other new Gryffindor second years. Maybe I should tell you about them for a moment. You know, so you know whom I'm talking about when I mention their names. Well there was Robert Oliver, Samuel Longbottom, Laura Potter and Anya Corrie. Robert was half Muggle on his Dad's side, his Dad was a famous Muggle chef but I've never heard of him. Samuel was half Muggle on his Mum's side. His Dad was the professor for Herbology so I wasn't really all that bothered when he beat me in that class. Laura was the daughter of the famous Harry Potter, she was really mysterious. Anya didn't know what she was on the Muggleborn/Wizardborn side; she was brought up in a Muggle orphanage. Her and I got on really well. And that was my class.

Finally the moment I was dreading arrived, a little group of eleven-year-olds had arrived. Melanie was amongst them looking annoyingly dry, healthy and happy. She waved at me. Just to spite me, the other Gryffindor second-years waved back. I swung round and swatted Samuel's hand down.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

"Just being polite," Samuel replied.

"Stop it."

They grinned at me.

"What's your big problem with her?" Anya asked, "She's sweet."

"She's evil."

More grins.

"Joseph thinks Melanie is going to get in to Gryffindor," Lucy explained, "He thinks he's going to have to put up with her every day of his life for the next six years and that he'll never be able to escape from her. He was hoping she'd get ill or fall in the lake or something so she wouldn't be able to come. Plus," she frowned, "there was something about the world ending if she came because Joseph would be so miserable but I don't really understand that bit." She looked up at me, "What was that bit about again?"

"Never mind," said Lione, throwing me a particularly mischievous grin.

Professor McGonagall placed a three-legged stool on the ground in front of the new first years. Everyone stared at it as a tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth the hat began to sing.

"A fact that is so little known,

Is that when I was newly sown,

A talking hat was no surprise,

But none of these were very wise.

But then came brave old Gryffindor,

And brain box dear young Ravenclaw,

And Slytherin and Hufflepuff,

To mention brief is not enough.

But please, dear friends, and fair me well,

You see I have a tale to tell.

These greatest Wizards in the land,

Used to sort trainees by hand.

But as approached their final season,

In to me they put their reason.

Now all of you have me to wear,

And I will sort for I am fair.

Now as the bravest of the four,

The daring go in Gryffindor.

Or if the Dark Arts make you grin,

Then you belong in Slytherin.

If Ravenclaw is in your sight,

Step back unless you're very bright.

Or if you're persistent, loyal and true,

To Hufflepuff away with you!

You see the sorting isn't dull,

So pop me up upon your skull,

For your head, I'll see inside,

Which house for you, I will decide."

Everyone applauded and the Sorting hat dipped its point in a small bow.

"It changed its song!" Lucy cried with delight.

"It changes it every year," I told her.

Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll of parchment. "When I call your name," she announced, "you will put on the hat and sit on the stool. When the hat announces your house, you will take off the hat, leave it on the stool for the next person and go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Adams, Claire!"

A girl with short pigtails and a subtle smile on her lips moved forward and placed the hat on her head.

"I know her," Anya told us, "She's at my Orphanage. Complete Kleptomaniac."

"What's one of those when it's at home?" Robert asked.

"Someone who can't help stealing," explained Lione, "Addicted to it."

"Hold on to your handbags," Gregory muttered.

Lucy frowned and held back a snigger. "Why on earth do you have a handbag, Gregory?"

Gregory groaned.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat.

Everyone clapped politely except the Slytherins themselves who hooted.

"Wouldn't have expected anything less," Anya laughed.

"Is she really that bad?" Joseph asked.

"Ooh yeah."

"Not all Slytherins are evil," Lucy put in sulkily, "Look at my brother."

"Yes," said Gregory. "Look at your brother."

"Bower, Melanie!"

Melanie moved forward. I suddenly tensed and slid forward so I was literally on the edge of my seat. I heard sniggering behind me but I didn't care. This would be the defining moment of my life. This was the most important sorting that would ever exist for me. This very minute would change the course of my entire life. Would Melanie be able to bug me, or would she not? It could go either way. Of course, as I look back now I realise that I shouldn't really have been so nervous. It was, of course, statistically more likely for her to go in any of the other three houses. But of course she didn't.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The crowd clapped. Around me there were cheers. Behind me my 'friends' were going,

"Whooooooo! Go Melanie!"

I turned round and glared at them.

"Awww," said Gregory, "Does de ickle Joseph have to put up with annoying sister? Poor Joseph."

"Yeah," the others joined in, "De poor ickle Joseph."

"Stop it," I commanded.

"Cheer up, Joseph," said Lione, "It won't be that bad."

"Yeah," Lucy agreed, "You won't have to see her during lessons, will you? So she can't annoy you all the time."

They couldn't hear what I called them because just then Johnson Cabbage was put in to Hufflepuff and the crowd erupted in to loud applause.

"It's official," I told them, "I hate that hat."

"Join the club," said Lione, "I hated it too last year. I swear it was teasing me. Kept suggesting different houses and never said them out loud."

"When I put it on," Lucy contributed, "I could have sworn I heard it grinning. Which I know is impossible because A, it's a hat and B, grinning makes no sound."

"Actually it makes a quiet 'tlink' sound."

"But I felt it was expecting me and knew what was coming before it even got on my head."

"Maybe it recognised the sir name," Gregory suggested.

"Then why didn't it put me in Slytherin?"

They went silent. Just in time for Smitha Dunkin to be sorted in to Ravenclaw. I started to get angry. Why were they so bothered about Lucy and what the hat said to her last year? Didn't they realise that this stupid... garment had just wrecked all my high hopes of not seeing my oldest sister during term time.

"Who cares?" I cried, "I don't. Can't you see that I'm the one who's going to suffer here? You may think she's sweet but wait till you meet her."

"We have met her."

"You're lucky. You got a one-minute inspection and then ignored. I hate that hat."

"Join the club," they all chorused. Then they laughed.

The rest of the sorting continued without event except when McGonagall announced a certain new first year.

"Font, Fred!"

I froze. "Guys," I said, "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," said Gregory, "How cruel must his parents be?"

"No! His sir name! Font isn't exactly common is it?"

"No."

"So he must be related to Ainsley Font!"

"Who?"

"The little boy who went missing. This is conclusive! Every child who's gone missing was related to a wizard."