"Well, okay, it wasn't a ton," Jamie said with a laugh. "But, you used to talk me up with you as a kid on the weekends you were able to be home." He was still trying to remember when, if, or how things had changed. He suspected it had been slow and gradual, the sort of change you only realize happened when you looked backwards.
"September 2015, yes. Prophet ran a whole photo essay on it the morning after the sorting. If you've got the archives from that far back, you can probably find it." The 'if you're really that interested' was left unsaid, but Jamie felt it was still hanging in the air between them anyway. After a moment, he pursed his lips. "Al told you about his sorting, then?" He couldn't imagine any other reason for that particular question.
Laughing again, he shook his head. "No. I do go by James outside the family. But, I think Jamie might be better for everyone here to avoid confusion." He shot his...father...a smirk. "Your choices in names are going to bite us all in the arse, now. And, yes, I enjoy flying. I'm pretty sure Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley are only allowed one child who doesn't and that one's not me. If you and Aunt Hermione didn't clear out the trophy room along with everything else of wizard society that was hidden away, you should be able to find the 'Potter Quidditch Shelf' where my name sits up next to yours and James'."