The Best Way to Eat Shit Together
Ah—peaceful Hogwarts.
No final boss leading an army into the high school. No escaped convict sneaking in to hunt a rat. No soul-sucking monster guzzling spirits like cola. No terrorists storming the place to assassinate the headmaster.
Not yet, anyway.
"To all of you who have completed yet another semester free of incident or accident, this Prime Minister extends his encouragement and congratulations."
Right. Even through the end of second year, nothing had happened at Hogwarts this term.
And starting next term, every single one of those disasters was scheduled to hit on a bimonthly rotation.
Because next semester the three accident-magnet golden protagonists would be enrolling as first-years.
Three years older than in the original, no less.
June 30th, 2014, 11 a.m., Hogwarts Great Hall.
On the screen, Prime Minister David Cameron's congratulatory address wrapped up, followed by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's declaration that summer holiday had officially begun.
All that remained was the moment every student was waiting for: the announcement of the House Cup winner.
"Therefore, in accordance with the Ministry of Magic's Department of Educational Policy regulations and Hogwarts internal rules, this Deputy Headmistress will now announce the winning house for the 2013–14 academic year."
On the dais, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall—wearing a lime-green blouse and square spectacles—spoke into the microphone.
"The winning house is—!"
But I didn't hear a word McGonagall said.
Something far more important than any House Cup was sitting in my hands: the second-year report card that would decide my entire summer.
"Eugene, did you open it yet? I'm more curious about yours than mine."
"Seriously. Why'd you even make that bet with Uncle Raul? There's no way you cracked the top three hundred in practicals. You've already failed two subjects. Two fails out of six—how are you supposed to hit the three-hundreds…"
A pretty black-haired girl and a freckled boy with red curly hair were chattering away right in front of me.
Whack—!
"Percy, shut up. Why are you jinxing him? Eugene worked hard—maybe he did better than you think."
"Ow! Hey, why do you only ever take it out on me? Your boyfriend's the one who needs to see this."
"Percy, sadly my boyfriend is currently preparing to sprint up to the dais."
"Someday Cedric Diggory's going to find out just how foul-mouthed his girlfriend really is."
"Hey! Percy Weasley! You done talking? You're the one who started—"
I still hadn't even opened the report card, and the two of them were already bickering among themselves.
"Congratulations! Hufflepuff!!!"
Waaaaaaaaah—!
"This year's House Cup prize is an iPhone 5s! Of Hufflepuff's total enrollment of 1,050 students, excluding the fourteen who accumulated more than one hundred individual demerits or failed to meet two-thirds attendance, every remaining student will receive the prize. You've all worked hard this year. Representing Hufflepuff, the second-year with the highest individual house points—Cedric Diggory—please come forward to accept the House Cup."
The moment McGonagall finished, cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table where I sat.
Of course, I already knew I was one of those fourteen, so I hadn't held any hope of getting a prize.
"This year's House Cup prize was sponsored by Crave Industries. We will now briefly play a congratulatory message from Chairman Carbon Crave of Crave Industries—"
A middle-aged man who looked like he loved money more than oxygen appeared on the screen, but I didn't care what he was saying.
"Eugene, Zacharias is glaring at you. Looks like he piled up demerits fighting you too, so no prize for him either."
"Maybe fight a little less next time."
"Percy, stop needling Eugene."
"Karina, you stop lecturing me."
"Can both of you just be quiet for a second?"
I shut the two of them up as they started sniping at each other again, then opened the report-card envelope with trembling hands.
"Hey, I still can't get used to it."
"Used to what?"
"The new grading system. You know—Senior Undersecretary Umbridge said it had to be integrated with Muggle school grades, so they switched everything to A through F. No romance left. Zero romance."
"Really? I actually like it better—easier to read at a glance. Percy, you used to get all O's anyway, and now you just get all A's."
"Still… there was something romantic about that letter O all by itself."
My idea of romance is spreading a picnic mat by the Han River with a pretty girlfriend and a packed lunch. Percy Weasley's idea of romance is apparently a letter on a report card. What a terrifying creature.
I let their chatter go in one ear and out the other while I unfolded the rustling paper.
Ah.
Damn it.
Brrring-brrring-brrring—
As if someone had been watching me, my Galaxy Note 2 rang at the exact perfect moment.
"Yes, Uncle."
"Eugene, did your report card come out? Ah—first of all, you worked hard this year. No matter what your grades are, I love you, son."
"Thank you. I love you too, always. I already checked the grades."
"Good. Don't get too down. Betting on your grades wasn't to pressure you—it was truly for your own good. You know that, right?"
"I know. I was the one who suggested it in the first place."
"That's my Eugene. So what's the result? Where are you spending this summer—Mediterranean cruise or the practical combat magic academy?"
"…The academy."
"Well, that's perfect. I was uneasy about kids going on a cruise alone in times like these anyway. Amos? Transfer the money right now."
Through the phone I could hear Cedric's father, Uncle Amos, cackling as he called the academy and registered us on the spot.
"…What? Why is Uncle Amos paying for mine?"
"Ah, you kids wouldn't know. Eugene, even if it's a boarding academy right in the middle of London, I didn't feel right sending you alone, so we decided to send all five of you together. The parents already talked it over. Congratulations, Eugene Kim. Have a fun holiday with your friends. You can tell the others yourself. I've got a business trip this afternoon, so I'll be home late. I'll bring pizza—just get home safely and rest. See you later!"
My adoptive father, Uncle Raul, hung up in that same warm voice he always used.
On the dais, Cedric was choking up and rambling through his acceptance speech.
Slap—!
"Hey, Eugene Kim! What's with that face? Oh—you checked the report card? Did you guys check yours too? I'm dying of curiosity."
A cheerful blonde girl—Penelope—smacked me on the back and plopped down beside me.
"Penny, where were you?"
"Just ran to the bathroom. It's that time of the month."
Penelope answered Karina's question while casually stuffing a muffin into her mouth.
"Hey, keep that kind of talk quieter."
"Percy, I'm the one on my period—why are you the one getting embarrassed?"
When Percy yelped and told her to shut up, Penelope just giggled and shot back.
"Hey, you guys are all going too. The parents already finished talking it over."
"Going where? The cruise? Holy crap. I've always wanted to go. But can I even travel? I want to be there when my little sibling is born. I even want to help pick the name."
"How about Laundry Clearwater? Nice continuity."
"Are you insane, Eugene Kim? Don't joke about my sibling's name."
Penelope flipped me off and glared at my nonsense.
"Penny, how's your mom doing? You must be nervous too. Your sibling's a pretty late arrival."
"I'm not the one giving birth, so what's there to be nervous about? Honestly, my parents hit forty and then suddenly caught fire again—it's exhausting. They could at least take better care of the kid they already have. So where do we board the cruise? Marseille? Naples? Crete?"
"Just show up at Slughorn-Weybridge Academy. Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock. That's where we'll be boarding. Whether it's a cruise or your own insides is still up for debate."
"Ah, got it. Eugene, sorry. It's that time of the month—I don't think I can make the academy."
"For two whole months?"
"Yep."
"Then you'll die of blood loss, you idiot."
My mood had been foul until a second ago, but watching my friends' faces turn the color of dirt at my words made everything feel a lot better.
Yeah. The best way to eat shit is together.
"Hello? Mom? I just heard something weird."
"Dad! I thought I was going to Paris with Cedric over the holiday? I have to go to an academy?"
"Mom? I'm starting academy tomorrow? First I've heard of it. Ah… stop by the hospital before I leave in the morning and drop off Mom's bag? What, that maternity ward can't even receive packages? Fine. Stop yelling. A pregnant woman shouldn't be screaming like that. I said I got it! Bye!!!!!!"
I watched Percy, Karina, and Penelope each sink into despair as they called their parents to confirm the facts, then stuffed the report card back into my pocket.
I caught Snape glaring at me from the staff table and casually looked away.
Stare all you want with that greasy hair. Even on the last day of term I refuse to clock into the lab—I left that slave mentality behind in my previous life as a grad student.
Go suffer alone without a research assistant, Professor.
My eyes stayed fixed on Cedric, who was still sniffling and weeping on the dais.
"Percy, what's the average lifespan of a British wizard?"
"Eighty-one, as of last year."
Even mid-phone call he answered me like a ChatGPT that never missed a beat.
"Uwaaah—I'm only a second-year and yet to represent Hufflepuff like this is such an honor—sob—"
I truly couldn't believe it. No—I didn't want to believe it.
That idiot friend of mine currently smearing snot all over the microphone while rambling his victory speech.
According to the original story.
In four years, during the final of the Triwizard Tournament, he would be murdered by Voldemort.
"I really can't stand the thought of watching that."
I'm a super-J. I have to plan everything or I can't function.
And nowhere in the first-half roadmap of this life is there a line item that says "attend friend's funeral and cry my eyes out."
None of you are allowed to die before eighty-one.