This was it. I was officially signed and about to have my first meeting with Ragmar Dorkins—the manager—and the rest of the team as the new seeker for The Chudley Cannons, a team which used to have an impressive winning streak before things went downhill around 1972.

Roger left me standing alone and I shivered as I was over-taken by a mini epiphany: I liked Katie. My old chaser, Katie Bell. I liked Katie Bell.

I began to inquire as to why Oliver was being such a wuss but the doors in front of us swung open dramatically, sunlight pouring in and Oliver’s face becoming even paler than during the final match our seventh year. The once dull roar exploded and the open doors shook lightly. Oliver swallowed one last time before glancing back at the rest of us and heading out.

“We can go in now, right?” “Yeah,” I said before looking back at Fred and George who had both moved forward, “Yeah, let’s go.” Roger, Fred, George and I all entered the small hospital room and saw Oliver and Marcus both sitting on their respective beds, facing in opposite directions. Both were fully dressed but they both seemed to be contemplating something. Oliver looked dazed and morbid and Marcus looked, well, pissed.