Dear Rose,

I made some really unexpected discoveries today, which I know will interest you...

So it all began this morning when my boredom got the better of me, and I was rummaging under the bed when I chanced upon a loose floorboard. The dust and cobwebs were worth it-you know how I hate them- because a few minutes later I pulled out an old, torn photo album, titled: 'Collections Compiled by Creepy'. Only after the series of events afterwards did I realise that it was actually 'Creevey', and not 'Creepy'. Anyway, I skimmed through the first few pages looking at various pictures that had been taken a few years before the Second Wizarding War- when our parents were at Hogwarts!

I soon came across a photo - which I perhaps should not have seen - of two teenagers literally eating each others faces. The caption for that photo was: 'Cannibalism revealed through serious snogging'. It was after staring at it for some time that I realized that the boy in the photo had red hair and freckles, bearing a curious resemblance to our father. I first thought that the girl must have been Mum, but to my utmost shock and disbelief when in tiny print underneath the caption I read- 'Ron W. and his physical soulmate Lavender B.'.

The sight affected me terribly; I felt as though I was traumatized. I didn't think that I could look at Dad in the same way again. At dinner I could barely touch my food, even though Mum had made my favorite dish - bouillabaisse. It was only when Mum asked me if something was wrong that my painstakingly maintained self control collapsed. ''Who is Lavender Brown?'' I blurted out, admits Dad's noisy slurps.

Needless to say, the slurps were replaced with a choking fit. And mum, well, she turned redder than the tomatoes in the bouillabaisse. I raised my eyebrows. "I think you should ask your father that," Mum smirked, looking pointedly at Dad's abashed face.

"Uh, Lavender, well she was just a friend," Dad spluttered.

Whereas Mum calmly added, ''That's putting it mildly.''

"Anyway, how did you come across that incriminating bit of evidence?" Dad questioned me, looking as though he wouldn't take an 'I don't know' for an answer. I realised honesty would be my only path out.

"Oh, I was just looking through some old photographs," I shrugged.

Dad turned red- I thought I was in for a lecture now, "Hugo, you should know better than to go looking through my stuff." Dad instructed.

At that I defiantly replied, "But it was under the floorboard in my room.'' I have my pride. Mum burst out laughing, it was the first time I'd ever heard her snort, so you understand how baffled I must have been.

''Dad,'' I said soberly, ''I think Mum's been jinxed.'' Dad gave me an amused nod. Soon after Mum had recovered from her fit of hysterics, they both led me to believe that the photo album had been given to Dad by a boy named Colin Creevey, who was literally married to his camera. He had sent Dad this particular photo to document Dad's 'not-so-personal' life.

In Dad's words: 'Colin would not think twice about taking a photo- even if it meant sticking his nose into other people's business.'

But Mum cleverly replied, as usual, ''Well, your Dad and Lavender were not exactly private anyway. It wasn't Colin's fault that he loved taking photos- he just saw Lavender and your Dad as inspiration.''

By the end of this, I had become quite familiar with Colin Creevey but still had no true knowledge about Dad's 'physical soulmate'.

"But who was Lavender?'' I asked, determined to weasel the hidden secrets out of them both.

I guess Dad realized that he could not prolong the inevitable truth any longer, "I think the picture you saw is self-explanatory. But, if this appeases your conscience, we barely dated'' - Mum coughed loudly - ''for about a month or two.''

"But Merlin's Beard, it was intense" Mum added.

For the tenth time that night I raised my eyebrows as Dad, looking mildly annoyed, muttered to Mum, "You don't talk. What about Cormac McLaggen and of course, Victor Krum, eh?"

It was Mum's turn to squirm uncomfortably. "Well," she responded, "Victor and I never thrashed around like a pair of eels and neither did I send McLaggen sweetheart necklaces for Christmas!"

Once again Mum had triumphed as she does in basically everything. For myself, I had had enough, both of Mum and Dad's bickering and the bouillabaisse. ''I'm not hungry, goodnight.'' I spoke through gritted teeth.

I guess Dad must have sensed my disgust as he tried to reassure me, "It's alright, Hugo. At that age everyone does that sort of thing- you will too- blame it on the hormones." I blanched. The bouillabaisse I had just digested was about to make a reappearance. "At the end of the day, though," Dad continued as though nothing had happened, "your mother was the only person truly ever loved. You and your sister stand testament to that."

Mum admonished Dad, ''Ron!''

Before the conversation could get any more graphic than it already was, I scurried upstairs where I immediately began writing to notify you about the useful blackmail we now have on our hands, dear sister, you owe me big time. And, of course, this information is definitely not strictly confidential with our beloved cousins.

Love,

Hugo