I start to hyperventilate and think that I am most certainly about to die. Maybe I’ll come back as a ghost, like Moaning Myrtle. I could haunt this sixth year Gryffindor girls’ bathroom – Rose Weasley, the pregnant ghost of Gryffindor house. That has a nice ring to it.
 

Great – the Potters are coming. Which means Scorpius Malfoy's coming. Maybe I can hide out in the attic until they leave.

Maybe I should just go buy some cats and spend New Years with them.

“Well, the thing is…” I start, “I’m sort of…with child.” 

Yes, I consider a pregnant sixteen year old who talks to herself in her head and considers spending her life (or afterlife) haunting toilets as perfectly normal, thank you very much.
 

“Thanks for not shunning me from your life,” I say, “and for not killing Malfoy and ending up in Azkaban and starting a big chain-reaction of self-destruction throughout our entire family.”

I don’t think he gets that the dark mark is a sign of all the suffering our parents and grandparents went through, but more of a fashion statement. Then again, James went to the last Halloween party dressed as Voldemort.
 

“Malfoys and Weasleys will never be friends, no matter how much your generation think they will.”

“I have not been crying,” he says stubbornly, “Boys don’t cry.” 

“Fred!” James yells, and Fred comes stumbling down the stairs from the dormitories, “How is it that you have the Prank Mastermind for a father and you’re still crap at this?”
 

He frowns back. So I continue frowning. And it’s just one big frown-a-thon. 
 
 
 

There are some sentences that, when you’re around six or seven, you think you’ll never have to say, and believe me, that’s one of them.
 

Cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic Rose Weasley is no more – I officially love life.

Laura Phelps does sarcasm. You learn something new every day. 

“I think we momentarily fulfilled every child’s worst nightmare and became our parents,” I say, “Promise me we’ll never do that again.”

I’m so happy to hear this I could do the Hippogriff step. The Hippogriff-step is quite a complex dance move that should only be attempted by very drunk grandmothers on a Friday night – it involves a lot of flapping your arms and bobbing your head, while running around in a circle.

"Rose, when I was eighteen years old, I was tortured under the Cruciatus Curse by Bellatrix Lestrange, and I can safely say that it was like a day in a beauty spa compared to labour!"

"In case I haven’t introduced myself already – Rose Weasley. But you can call me Mum."