Me and my family jumped on the Harry Potter bandwagon very late. The sixth movie had just come out when I picked up the first book and then proceeded to make the rest of the family read it.
And although we were late, we swiftly became whole-hearted converts…um….fans!
As a matter of fact, I started the first book in January, by that November, all five of us had read every book and were dressed up at the midnight premier for part 1 of the seventh movie.
Around this same time, Facebook quizzes were still a thing–you don’t believe me, but they used to be cool–and of course, I HAD to see which house I’d be sorted into.
Because these were fan-made quizzes, I had to take more than one just to make sure things were accurate. 3 out of 4 sorted me into Gryffindor and 1 out of 4 sorted me into Hufflepuff. *BARF*
(Yes, I tried NOT to rig my answers to get me into Gryffindor.)
So when Pottermore made its debut with the actual, for real, Rowling-approved quiz, I was dying to get my hands on it!
Side note: my sister got the BETA version of Pottermore…TWICE! It was a long, complicated process and it’s insane that she got it twice!
When I got my account I zoomed through the first few chapters to get to the Sorting Hat.
Don’t cheat, answer as honestly as possible. This is the quiz that counts–J.K. Rowling herself is quizzing you.
I took my time, I considered every answer, but I didn’t overthink it.
Finally it’s time for my results. I cross my fingers, praying I wouldn’t be a Hufflepuff when suddenly my computer screen is flooded with green and silver.
It’s wrong, it has to be wrong. My breath is short, “Nonononononononononononononononono”
“What?! Did you get Hufflepuff?” the husband asks, only a few chapters behind me.
Wordlessly, I swivel my computer around for him to see the dreaded news.
“Slytherin!! No way!” he laughs.
But it’s no laughing matter, I felt kicked out of the cool kid club…I’d been punched in the gut and I couldn’t breathe. I felt as though I’d let Rowling down and was severely depressed.
I made my way to the floor where the husband was sitting so I could see his results, the screen goes blank for a moment and then the warmth of the Gryffindor common room lights up his screen.
“NO! NO! THAT’S NOT FAIR!!!”
The husband is dying of laughter at this point.
“It’s not funny!” I say, punching his arm more out of frustration than play, “It’s not fair!”
I was upset the rest of the night and I haven’t returned to Pottermore since. It broke my heart too much. The poor husband spent a long time trying to make me feel better but to no avail.
Lately though, I think I’ve found my inner Slytherin and I’m learning to be okay with my house. But there will always be a part of me that has Gryffindor envy, and that part of me mourns every day.