“Well that was certainly… something,” she observes. “Something?” I repeat incredulously. “Your cousins are mad!” Rose laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, it’s not genetic.” Yet.

I mean, come on Luce; is your vocabulary range really that small? The sorting hat certainly didn’t put you in Ravenclaw for your looks.…wait. I think that came out wrong. This should probably be kept between us. I’m already number one on her hit list; there’s not much else she can do to me, but still, I live in fear.

In fear of a sixteen year old girl.

“Uh –”

“– what’s going on?” Rose finishes for me, looking at her best friend while I elbow mine in the side, demanding the same thing with my eyes. He just rubs the spot where I’d elbowed him and laughs like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, but clearly, there’s something going on here.

I hate being out of the loop.

This is MY plan.

Who died and made HIM King of the Plan? Cos it sure wasn’t me.

I don’t know what the obsession with peacocks is in this family. I, however, haven’t inherited the blind tolerance for them that my parents and grandparents before them clearly have.

Thank. Merlin.